TW: internalised biphobia, domestic abuse
January 28th, 1975
"Fuck you, Christine!"
John's words cut through the air harshly, making her flinch. She was sat in the studio, out of sight of the window into the room from the corridor, watching Lindsey lay down a take.
As much as she liked Lindsey and Stevie, she knew that they were far from perfect. But somehow, she felt as though she could rely on them when John started shouting at her and treating her like she was nothing. She missed the days when they were so in love, days when he'd take her out on dates and call her "princess" and "darling". It had felt so new and sweet. She knew it wasn't her fault, but every angry word he shouted made her feel like it was.
And it didn't help that every book she read told her it was her fault too. "Self-improvement for wives" amongst them. She had torn that one up.
If she didn't want to have sex, she didn't have to.
"Close the blinds, Chris," Lindsey murmured, "Tell him you've gone home. Crash at mine tonight."
"Thank you," she breathed, watching Lindsey get up and walk away, and reaching to her side to flip the blinds closed.
Richard Dashut gave her a sympathetic smile and she avoided eye contact. But by the time Lindsey had returned, tears were streaming down her face.
"Hey," he murmured, motioning for Richard to leave, locking the door behind him, "Please don't cry, love."
"It's not fair. When you argue with Stevie, it's not like this. Why can't I shout back? Tell him he's a lousy husband anyway and that he only ever wants to fuck me."
Lindsey took a deep breath, taking her hand,
"Because you're too good to do that."
"I'm not," she mumbled, "I'm a horrible person. I don't even love him."
"You don't love him anymore?"
"I don't think I ever have."
"Why not? Something must have made you marry him."
"Wanting to be normal made me marry him," she hissed and instantly regretted it as she watched the confused expression spread across his face.
"You are normal," he shook his head, "Yeah, you sweet thing, you must be drunk."
"Normal women don't like their friends' wives. Normal women don't date women, even if it is in college. Normal women-"
"You're gay?" Lindsey asked, rubbing the back of her hand, "Chris, gay doesn't mean not normal."
"I'm not gay," she snapped.
"But you like women?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry for shouting, Linds."
She looked at her lap, ashamed.
"You're bi?"
"Yeah, well...I thought I was. I don't know."
"It's okay," he smiled reassuringly, "I am too. You can talk to me."
"You're bi?"
"Stevie broke up with me when she found out," he murmured, "But it's nothing, you're more important."
"I just look at John, even when he's sober and so sweet, and I just despise him. I don't want this. I hate it."
"Have you thought about divorce? It's clear you won't be able to sort this out until he quits drinking, and by the way he's shouting, I'd say it would take a long time."
"Yes," she murmured, "I don't love him. I can't take it anymore."
"You don't have to."
"You're too good to me, Linds."
"No, I'm not, you deserve someone who loves you and cares about you to talk to."
"Thanks," she said weakly.
"So, the friend's wives thing? Mick's ex? What's her name? Jenny?"
"Jenny," she smiled, "Jenny Boyd. We lived together before we came here, when her kids were little. She called me their second mother. She'd cuddle with me on the couch when Mick and John were out."
"That's so cute," he murmured, "And you love her?"
"I don't know," she admitted, "I'm attracted to her and I love her lots, but I'm not in love with her."
"No?"
"It wouldn't last. And she's straight anyway."
"You never know," Lindsey chuckled and ruffled her hair, "You didn't know about me, huh?"
"Touché."
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"Yeah."
"I really, really like Richard."
"Our Richard? Dashut?"
"Yeah."
"You'd be cute together, but that's mad, Lindsey, you've seen him shirtless. You wanna date that? The man with a rug for chest hair?"
Lindsey raised an eyebrow,
"Absolutely."
April 4th, 1975
The next time they ended up having a heart to heart, they were recording Rumours. Christine was practically sat on his lap on the couch, Lindsey's guitar on her knee as he guided her through a solo.
"See, you're a natural," he grinned, kissing her cheek.
She giggled, but suddenly her side hurt.
"Linds? I don't feel good," she murmured quickly.
"Too much blow?"
"Yeah."
"How about I take you back to mine? I'll look after you tonight."
"Yeah," she clung to his side as everything swayed in front of her.
"It's okay, honey, it's okay," he murmured, "Come on, let's get you some water."
By the time Lindsey had guided her into his house, up to the living room, her vision wasn't blurry, but she still didn't feel good- her head was pounding and she swayed on her feet.
"I've ordered pizza, I hope that's okay," he murmured, sitting next to her, "Would you like to sleep until it turns up?"
She nodded and let him adjust her position to lay her down, with her head resting against his chest.
"It's gonna be okay."
"I miss my old girlfriend," Christine admitted, chewing on the crust of her pizza.
"You had a girlfriend?"
"In art school, but she's forgotten about me by now," she said, "Her name was Indigo and she had the best smile in the world."
