Justin remembered girls back on Mickey Mouse Club doing things like baking cookies for guys that they liked. There was every possibility that it was stupid, the way anonymous flowers and cards were, but he was optimistic about it, thinking maybe they knew something that he didn't.

It wasn't easy to find chocolate chips and walnuts in Europe, not the kind that he remembered, with recipes on the back of the package. Eventually, though, he found and mixed and baked. It seemed like a great idea while he was making them, but when he was standing in front of Chris, Justin just felt like more of an ass than usual.

It wasn't that Chris was mean or even laughed at him. He'd plucked a cookie off the plate, bit into it and even smiled. There was a flutter of possibility when Chris licked chocolate off the side of his mouth and grinned at him. Justin noticed, though, that Chris was looking more through him than actually at him.

That was what made it the worst. Justin was pretty sure Chris knew. But he was nice, never letting it really affect their friendship. He smiled at not so anonymous wilted wildflower bouquets, tucked carefully homemade cards into his duffel, but he still never really looked at Justin.

There was the brief period where Justin read ridiculously romantic poetry and sighed longingly, resting his hand on his chin and looking forlornly into space. And when Justin's tutor forced him to read the Odyssey, he thought that Chris was sort of his unconquerable journey.

Chris laughed at his brooding, jumping on him and suggesting videogames, saying things like "Infant! I shall conquer your kingdoms and enslave your peoples." when he knocked the books out of Justin's hands. He'd forget to brood then, and he never really managed to figure out a perfect parallel to Chris in any of the stories that he plowed through.

Justin stopped dreaming, stopped pining. He thought that maybe he was realistic, and honestly, when people screamed his name and fainted just because he spoke to them, it was mostly easy to forget something that seemed as ultimately improbable as making Chris love him.

In time, he mostly forgot about loving Chris. He allowed himself to smile knowingly when interviewers mentioned things like first love; he mumbled things about Britney and looked anywhere but at Chris. Chris was his best friend. They hung out, played like kids, rode their motorcycles whenever they could.

One day, when they'd been riding for a while, Chris motioned to him to pull over. It was woodsy and isolated and Justin thought that maybe they should have brought a lunch or at least a couple drinks. Chris was fumbling in his saddlebags, though, and he yanked out a foil wrapped package, unwrapping it and offering Justin a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. The cookie still felt warm, and the chocolate chunks melted sweet against his tongue.

The dimming light seemed suddenly full of possibilities. Justin licked chocolate from the corner of his mouth, and felt his eyes drift past Chris' face to stare at a withered tree just over his shoulder.

~end~