His Own Brand of Broken
This was originally written for QAF Challenges
The Drabble ispiration was written by zaipixie and betae by girloftheburbs
TTitle: His Own Brand of Broken
Author: sfscarlet
Beta: girloftheburbs
Short Summary: Brian's Thoughts.
Characters: Justin, Brian,Lindsay and Gus, Ted.
Warnings: Slight angst, NC-17
This is the drabble that inspired the story.
Drabble His Own Brand of Broken
Despite what people thought, Brian knew just how screwed up he was. He also knew the reason for it. The years guarding his heart and soul in the Kinney household had erected seemingly solid walls to hide behind. But the hairline cracks needed constant seeing to.
His pain management was easy to recognize, and he kept it no secret. Sex. Lots of it. Drugs. Equal amount.
Most people didn't even bother to name it as the pathetic band-aid it was.
But the things he did to keep things as firmly together as he was, was something he did alone.
Prologue:
I've had a for shit day. After I take my shower and eat an apple, I pull out my journal and begin writing.
Everyone thinks that I'm unaware of the amount of sex and drugs I do, my pain management, my way to cope with life. I'm aware, very aware, but I know that everyone has masks and I wear mine well. Billy Joel hit it on the nail.
Well we all have a face
That we hide away forever
And we take them out and
Show ourselves
When everyone has gone
Some are satin some are steel
Some are silk and some are leather
They're the faces of the stranger
But we love to try them on
To the public, I'm Brian Fucking Kinney, stud of Babylon and master of pharmacology. I am those things, but I'm also plain Brian Kinney. Justin understands the plain Brian Kinney, the one who lives behind the mask. He was always on to me. Maybe Deb gets it a little, and Linds, well, she knows me, calls me on my shit, but sometimes I wonder where her loyalty is. I think if I gave any indication of swinging both ways, she would jump at the chance to be Mrs. Brian Kinney. I can't even fathom that thought. Ugh. Mikey, unfortunately, only sees me as the 14 year old he met in history class, the bad boy he always wanted to be, but never could figure out how to become. He's no longer wanting to be the bad boy, but he still needs someone to tell him what to do. Thankfully, Ben is that person now and not me.
While I recognize both sides of Brian Kinney, it's much easier to write down the hard parts. Talking about them is too painful, too hard, too much. Justin's seen me write in here, and periodically I give him the journal to read. He always puts it aside to read later, when I'm not there. This isn't some grand novel that I eagerly await his critique. It is my heart, my very being stripped bare so that I can put the pieces together with the glue of drugs and sex to function every day. Its my way to compartmentalize all the parts of my life that don't fit the CEO of Kinnetik or the Babylon playboy. I've come to realize that if I didn't do this, I would go insane. Writing it down is cathartic; it helps me deal with all the shit in my life without suffocating.
Letting Justin read my journal allows him inside the closet of Brian Kinney's tortured soul. He never badgers me, never pushes for me to talk about my feelings--so thankful he is all male and not part-lesbian. He will make a comment, just in passing, that lets me know he understands. I feel less vulnerable, not on the witness stand for the grand inquisition. He already knows my deepest thoughts, and when he makes the comment, I can feel free to talk if I want to. The door is open, cracked, and I'm free to close it or walk through it. We sometimes talk after he's read my journal, but regardless, he gets to know me a little more.
January 17th
This week sucked even more than normal. It started out when Mikey stopped by Kinnetik, blubbering like a five year old. I knew someone died, just by looking at him. My first thought was that it was Debbie and I felt my heart clench at the thought. Deb is my mother, not that bitch Joan, the drunk. I would miss Deb if she weren't here. Debbie understands that I need unconditional love--a mother's love--but sometimes she forgets the role and gets angry at me for doing something. Usually the something involves Mikey or Justin. Unfortunately she has rose-, no make that very dark red, -colored glasses when it comes to Mikey and his faults. He can do no wrong, and someone has to be blamed for his screw ups. When he broke up with Dr. Dave, she told me to fix it. I threw him this huge party and invited his beard. Everybody was so mad at me, but the next day, Debbie realized what and why I did what I did and she forgave me. I'll never apologize to anyone for my actions. You either figure them out ( you will if you know and understand me) or you don't and figure I'm an asshole.
That's what Melanie does. Tells me I'm an asshole--never really seeing what I'm doing. I support Gus despite giving my rights away, a decision that I'll always regret. I do have regrets--many of them--I just won't apologize. I wish I could spend more time with him. This fatherhood thing isn't so bad, and the young man seems to really like hanging out with me. Full-time fatherhood is not in the cards, but part-time is very doable. Maybe someday.
So if it wasn't Deb, who was it? When he told me it was Vic, my heart still clenched and I dropped down in my seat. Silent tears ran down my face and I didn't bother to hide them. If Deb was my mother, Vic was my favorite uncle, the one you talked to and shared things with.
Vic always believed in me, never questioned why I did what I did, and he always cheered me on. He was the first person who accepted what I was without judgment. Being gay himself, it was easy to come out to him. He gave me my first talk about safe sex, and talked and talked to me until he was sure I would not end up like him--positive. I'm glad he didn't suffer and waste away. I don't think any amount of pain management would be sufficient to erase that from my memory. Vic and I would talk about the strangest topics. I remember one afternoon, we spent three hours talking about relationships. No one would believe that I had a three hour conversation with Vic, let alone about relationships, but it happened. He gave me some great advice and I actually have used some of it with Justin.
He was the sane one in the group, knew me better than anyone except Justin. He knew that I was in a relationship with Justin, but didn't tease me or haggle me. It was the most natural thing in the world to him. He never gave advice about how I should treat Sunshine, just that I should respect him. Of course I respect, Justin. He's the most honest, caring person I know.
So what did I do when I went to pay my respects to Deb, I fucked up even more. I told her that everyone should be happy that Vic lived those extra years, that he should have been dead a long time ago. My fucking mouth can get me in more trouble. I either don't say what I want to say or I say the first thing that comes into my head. While it was true that Vic had been given an extra four years, I shouldn't have said it then. Maybe later, when Deb's shock wore off, but not then. So she kicked me to the curb. In a way, she did me a favor. I ended up in Babylon getting my dick sucked by a doctor who told me I had a lump.
Fast forward to today when the doctor confirmed my worst fears. I probably have testicular cancer. Me, Brian Fucking Kinney has cancer of his ball--the irony of it all. I'm the fucking Stud of Liberty Avenue and now, what the fuck am I now--a one-ball wonder. I should just kill myself now--save everyone the trouble of feeling sorry for me. My world will shatter if I cannot use my pain management tools-if I can't get my dick sucked--I'll no longer be the Stud of Liberty Avenue. Who wants half a man? I might as well just buy a shit load of drugs and drown in oblivion. No one will miss me. I can hear the conversations now:
“He overdosed. He's been taking drugs for so long--just miscalculated.”
“Justin should have been there. Maybe he could have stopped him.”
“Now Gus won't grow up watching an over-the-hill club boy.”
I'm too fucking tired to go buy drugs right now. Maybe tomorrow.
January 20th
Saw Sonny Boy today and damn that lesbian, Lindsay. She had me thinking about a grown up Gus, and I realize I want to see a grown up Gus. Guess that means that I go have this diseased ball removed. At least I wasn't a lesbian and told the whole world my problems. They're still reeling from Vic. Thanks Vic for taking the spotlight. I owe you one, old man. I guess it won't matter anyway. Once I'm no longer the stud of Liberty Avenue, the gang will find someone else to hang around with. I'm sure Justin won't want anything to do with me once he finds out. I'll miss him, but he's better off with someone who is whole, not some fucked up guy like me. Maybe his next conquest will actually be able to tell him how he feels--keep him happy.
January 24th
Today was for shit. Cynthia is angrier than shit with me for bailing. And Justin--what do I do with him? He tells me he'll be here when I come back and to do whatever I need to do. How the fuck can he be so patient? I would have thrown my ass to the curb a thousand times over, but no, the twat just continues to take whatever shit I throw his way. He needs to realize that I'm not the person he thinks I am and get on his merry little way. I would have told Cynthia, really I would, but I just couldn't bring myself to see the pity in her eyes. She loves me in her own way--thankfully she realizes that I'm 100% gay and will never have sex with her. But that's okay, she supports me more than anyone, except Justin. Justin is the only person who really believes in me. I wish I didn't have to lose him, but it can't be helped.
January 31st
I'm back in fucking Pittsburgh, the one-ball wonder man. I feel like shit and I probably look like it too, but I have a business to run and I need to return. I felt like such a pussy this afternoon when Ted had to call me a fucking cab. I was so weak, like a baby--not that I really know what a baby feels like nor do I want to, but shit, I could barely walk. Ted was great, a true friend. I'll never tell him what he means to me, but he's great. He can keep his mouth shut, and can arrange for all the things I need. I'll need to give him a good bonus. Surely he's doing this to ensure that Kinnetik stays afloat.
February 2nd
Justin heard the message from the damn doctor and confronted me. Got all weepy and I threw him out. That was the hardest thing I've ever done. He's always left on his own and I've always let him. I do tend to push him off Mt. Kinney, but it's always his choice. I can't let him be with me out of obligation. He doesn't need some diseased one-ball wonder. I know it was the right thing to do. It just kills me to know that he won't be here when I wake up from this nightmare.
February 4th
Fuck ! All I've done is puke for the last six hours. I'm sitting on the couch as I write, trying to stop the nausea from overwhelming my body again. I need to pull myself together. The radiation makes taking any drugs out of the question, and my cock isn't suck-worthy either. I'm coming unglued--the cracks are becoming gaping holes and I'm oozing out of my skin.
I wish Justin were here. I could give him this journal and he would surreptitiously read it and then not talk about it. He'd make a comment and then I could talk without feeling obligated.
I'm scared. The doctors say they got it all and I have a 99% chance of full recovery. What happens if they're wrong? They were wrong about Justin, said he'd never draw again, and look at him now--went to draw a fucking movie. If I can't fuck, I'm nothing--fucking nothing. If I can't fuck, there's no reason to go to Babylon or Woody's. My entire existence is wrapped up in Liberty Avenue.
I regret kicking Justin out. He should have more of a back bone--realizing that I'm full of shit.
I'm so tired. Maybe tomorrow I'll ...
February 9th
Justin returned, thankfully. That stubborn, pain-in-the-ass came back and I let him. I'm glad that he saw through my bullshit. With him, I can be a shit and he will call my game. While everyone else always blames me for shit that isn't my fault, Justin sees the real me. He sees how much I care about Gus, how much I will do for “my family” but he is silent. He supports me. Why did I ever doubt that he would be there for me? I was there for him when he was bashed, even though it just about killed me to watch him struggle.
Justin is the strong one in our relationship, not me. Everyone sees me as the cold, unfeeling guy who only thinks about his dick getting sucked, but that isn't true. I care greatly about a few people--Gus, Justin, Debbie, and even Lindsay fit in the first category. If I didn't care about Lindsay, I wouldn't have fathered Gus. My love for Gus is stronger than I ever anticipated, but I am so glad that he's in my life. Deb is the mother I never had and she calls me on my shit. That's how Deb is--defending her own like a mother bear with its cub and I'm a cub to her.
But Justin is a category all to himself. He got bashed and fought hard to come back, to make a life for himself. He had nightmares for months, and I would hold him while he cried and shook from the nightmares. Eventually he worked through them, and he has them when he is just really stressed out. Unfortunately, his hand will probably always give him trouble, so I gently massage it for him and try to distract him with other things when I see him getting tired. Justin will fight for what he wants, and he wants me. I'm amazed that a 20 year old man can be interested in a 32 year old, but he is, and I'm the lucky one. Maybe there is hope for us after all.
March 14th
The fucking doctors have radiated my fucking ball, and I bet if you put me under a Geiger counter, I'd glow. Who would think that a beam of invisible waves would have such a profound effect on a body part? At least it's over and I can get back to my life. Now if only I could be the Stud of Liberty Avenue again. I haven't had a hard on in forever and I'm beginning to wonder if I ever will. I finished radiation over two weeks ago, and still no life. Justin isn't going to wait forever. He says it doesn't matter, that he'll wait. Soon his needs will need to be met, and I refuse to go through another episode like the fucking fiddler. He's young, virile, and hot, he should be fucking, not cleaning up my puke. Whatever possessed me to be happy that he returned? He would be better off with someone who can fuck him, not some guy with a useless dick. Things have been going well for us, but I can't see him waiting long.
March 21st
That was hot. Justin and I fucked and it was as good as I remember, and I know he enjoyed it too. I was just so happy to have a hard on. Thank you Joan for your timely visit. My mother, the cunt. Who would tell their son that his cancer is a result of his lifestyle? My mother, the bitch, is who. She has the audacity to come into Kinnetik and tell me that I was spared so I could repent from my evil lifestyle. She is crazy. Spared, my ass. I healed thanks to modern medicine and radiation, not some divine intervention. The only thing that came out of her visit was that I was so angry I got a hard on. Never knew that anger could do that. I hope she rots in hell. She surely doesn't care about me and she can keep her distance from me forever. I guess Justin will be sticking around for awhile, now that he's going to be able to get his needs met again. I do like him around.
March 28th
Crisis averted. I'm whole again. Its been a hell of a winter. Justin's coming over tonight. I think I'll leave this out for him.
Justin
I wondered when he would leave me his journal to read. So much shit has happened in the last few months. I see his hold slip when we're alone, and I think I know what he's thinking, but this is his way of telling me he needs me. I wish he'd believe that I'm not going anywhere, but I guess leaving when I found out about the cancer wasn't my best move. Although, he did throw me out. I should have recognized his pain management methods had to change when the usual ones couldn't be accessed. Yelling at me has often substituted for drugs. I know I was hurt and angry, and it took a conversation with Michael to help me come back, but honestly, I was almost ready to do so on my own.
He's still tired and has gone to bed. I'll stay up and read for awhile. Maybe I can help.
It didn't take long to read his entries--there weren't many, but what there was, was gut-wrenching. It's time to address some of his fears. I get in bed with him and we sleep entangled in each other's limbs.
The phone rings about 10:00, waking us up.
“Kinney.”
“...Hi Gus. You do. Well, I think we can handle that. See you in a little while.”
He turns toward me and kisses me softly. “Gus wants to spend the day with us. Now that Lindsay knows about my brush with death, she seems to feel it necessary to ensure that Gus spends time with his Daddy.”
Brian thank you for making this so easy. “Do you think that's the reason Gus is coming over--because Lindsay feels guilty?” I watch the mask fall for just a moment as my words strike a cord. “Gus loves you. He's your son. He's always wanted to be with you. This has nothing to do with your cancer.” I kiss him softly as I make my way to the bathroom and turn the water on for our shower. Brian joins me, and turns me to the wall to start washing my hair.
“Gus likes hanging with his Justin. I think he has a real place for you in his life.”
I lean back into his fingers, enjoying the gentle massage he's providing. “You're Gus' father and he loves you. Watch him when you open the door today. He always runs straight toward you and laughs and smiles when you scoop him up.”
“That's because I'm the good guy. I buy him ice cream and take him to the diner.”
He kisses me and finishes washing my body. “Pity makes my dick soft. Now stop with your pity party. You know that Gus loves you. Turn around so I can wash you. We want to be finished with our fuck session before they get here.”
Brian smiles at my suggestion and turns around. I quickly take the soap and lather his skin, then run my finger down his crack. He spreads his legs, allowing me access to his body. I gently bite his neck as I run my finger up and down his perineum, massaging the sensitive tissue. He presses back into my body, trying to push my finger inside, I comply with his silent request, gently pushing in two fingers. He moans with pleasure and my dick starts to ooze precum. I finger him until I feel his rhythm become faster; he's fucking my fingers. I grab the condom and lube. Taking my fingers out, I coat them with lube and push them back in, making his channel wet and accommodating. I squirt lube on my condom-covered dick and then gently push inside Brian. He pushes back, impaling his body on my cock. I grab his hips, setting up a rhythm between us. I grab Brian's cock, stroking it in time to my thrusts.
“Justinnnnn,” he yells as he shoots across my fingers.
My cock is squeezed by his spasms and I go over the edge as well. He turns his head and we fervently kiss as I grab the edge of the condom, pulling out.
“Water's getting cold,” he states and shuts it off. He steps out of the shower as he grabs the towels and hands me mine. Brian would never admit that he enjoys my cock up his ass, but there are times that he needs me to take over. He's vulnerable, knowing that I've read his most intimate thoughts of the past few months. While he knows I won't push him on any of them, he still feels like he's on display and that is a very uncomfortable feeling. Our lovemaking helps ease his fears. As long as my cock responds to his cock, he feels that his life is in order. Maybe one day, he'll be able to tell me instead of writing down his thoughts, but this is okay for now.
We dress quickly and Brian moves to the kitchen to put on coffee; he needs his caffeine fix for the day. I pick up my art supplies, don't want Gus to start coloring on one of my projects. Before the coffee is finished, the buzzer sounds, announcing their arrival. I stand back and let Brian open the door, watching to see if he looks at Gus like I suggested.
Gus does exactly like I predicted. “Daddy,” he yells and rushes toward Brian's knees, almost knocking him down.
Lindsay gives him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you?”
Brian frowns, he doesn't want to be reminded of his illness. “I'm fine.” He picks up Gus and swings him around like he's an airplane.
“Should you be doing that Brian? He's heavy.”
“I said I was fine. I have a clean bill of health. Now stop asking questions.” He puts Gus down and bends down to talk to him. “Sonny Boy. Have you eaten breakfast? I happen to know a diner that serves the best pancakes in the world.”
“Yippeee. Go see Grandma Debbie?”
“Probably. If she isn't there, maybe we'll go to her house to say hello.”
I come out of the bedroom and kiss Lindsay hello. “Hey Linds. How are you?”
“Great. I was going to go shopping this morning and Gus said he wanted to see Brian, so here we are.”
“Gus has good ideas. Spend some time with your pregnant wife before another baby invades your world,” I suggest as I walk over to the door.
“Are you sure? I mean, Gus is a lot to handle these days. Lots of energy.” I hear her unspoken words of caution and they make me sad. She knows Brian is still recovering from the radiation, and she doesn't want to push Gus on him. On the other hand, she wants Gus to be with his father. “We'll be just fine.” I bend down and whisper in Gus' ear. “Kiss your mom goodbye, big guy.”
He giggles at my suggestion and does as I ask. “Bye Mommy. Dad and Justin going to take me for pancakes and see Grandma Debbie.” He scampers off to his corner of the loft where his toys are and finds a truck, rolling it on the hardwood floors.
Linds walks out of the loft and I close the door. I go to Brian who is finishing his cup of coffee. “Let's go eat. I'm starving.” My stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly, and he laughs.
“Sunshine. Brian and Gus!” Debbie yells as the bell announces our arrival. She walks over to our booth with her proverbial pad and pen. “Gus, I have a big plate of pancakes with your name on it. What'll it be, boys?”
“I'll have the pancakes, some bacon, and a glass of chocolate milk.”
“Two egg whites and wheat toast, no butter.”
“You need more than that, Brian. You need to build up your strength. I'll bring you an omelet and toast.”
Brian just rolls his eyes, but knows better than to argue with Deb.
“Daddy. Why does everybody keep asking how you are?”
I watch Brian with eager eyes, wondering how he's going to answer Gus. Brian will never lie but he doesn't want to scare Gus.
“I was sick for awhile. That's why you didn't see me, but I'm better now.”
“Okay. I'm glad. Can we go to the park today? Mommy won't let me go when I'm sick, but since you're not sick anymore, maybe you'd like to play too.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“Yippee.”
Debbie brings the food and we eat. Brian manages to finish his omelet, and he eats a few bites of my pancake as well. Deb is happy, but knows Brian well enough to be quiet. Gus slurps the last of his chocolate milk and starts pumping his feet in the booth.
“Can we go to the park nowww, Daddy. I want to feed the ducks and you can push me on the swing.”
Brian pays the bill and leaves his big tip as usual, and we drive to the park where father and son feed the ducks and enjoy the swings. Gus starts to rub his eyes, a sure sign that he is ready for his nap.
“Gus, time to go home.” I say as I see Brian slowing down as well.
“But I want to play some more.” He runs up to the slide and starts walking up the rungs.
“Two more slides and then we need to go back to the loft. We'll play Candyland when you get up from your nap.”
“I'm too old to take a nap. My friend Jason says naps are for babies,” he pronounces in a voice full of four year old knowledge.
“Daddy and I are going to take a nap.”
He thinks about this statement for all of 15 seconds, decides this is acceptable, and announces,“Okay.” I love four year old logic.
We all take naps and then play a few rounds of Candyland. Lindsay comes to pick Gus up about 4:00.
When they leave, Brian lights up a cigarette, watching out the window as they walk to Lindsay's car. “He's such a great kid.”
“I told you he loves you.”
“You're very smart, Mr. 1500-on-your-SAT's. I did it for him, you know.”
I knew immediately that Brian was talking about the surgery and radiation, but I went along with the conversation. “Did what?”
“Had the surgery, radiation. I wanted to see him grow up.”
I go over and hug him, placing my cheek against his chest. “Now you will.”
He stabs out the cigarette and pulls me towards the bedroom, where he quickly takes off my clothes, pushing me on my back. He kisses me throughly, exploring all my skin from my forehead down to my pubes. I shiver in anticipation, knowing that Brian is making love to me. There is nothing like being made love to by Brian. He is gentle but forceful, and the look in his eyes melts my soul. Placing himself between my legs, he engulfs my cock, taking it all in. Swirling his tongue, he plays with the mushroom head and the sensitive skin underneath. I arch into his mouth, trying to push my body into his. He calms me with his hands, showing me he wants to savor this moment, not reach the finish quickly. His fingers play with my balls, fondling each with just the right touch of firmness. My breath hitches as he takes the fingers from one hand and lightly touches my perineum, fingers ghosting my hole.
“Briannn,” I plead, knowing he understands my desire.
He removes his mouth from my dick, sliding it down to my balls, sucking each one into his mouth and playing with it. I pant even heavier now, feeling my body race to the finish line, long before I'm ready.
He hears the hitch in my breath, the shallow pants, and he grabs the lube and condom from the drawer. He quickly lubes my hole and puts the condom on and then lubes it as well. Placing his cock at my entrance, he pushes slightly, breaching the barrier. He waits for my signal--I nod my head and touch his butt, and he slowly pushes in the rest of the way. I reach up for his mouth, needing to kiss him, to have as much of my body in contact with his as I possibly can. He kisses me, devouring my mouth and cementing our union.
“Briannn,” I moan as he slowly pumps in and out of me. It's a dance, choreographed to the ultimate level by us. We know the dance, understand its meaning, its significance.
“Justinnn,” he sighs as he pumps again into me, pushing my hot spot with each thrust.
I can no longer hold back; I've reached the point of no return. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull him into my body as tight as I can. He pumps faster, grabbing my dick to increase my enjoyment. “Come for me,” he urges as I tilt my hips up to meet his cock. I shoot all over us and I feel him spasm inside me. He reaches for the condom, pulls out and ties it off, tossing it into the trash. He lays on top of me, my legs open to accommodate his larger frame.
This is always one of my favorite times, after we've made love. I stroke his hair and back and give him light kisses. He lays on top of me, claiming me as his own. We fall asleep, neglecting to wash off my cum, and when we wake up an hour later we are stuck to each other.
“Twat,” he says as he pulls himself off me, dried cum on his stomach. “I need a shower.” He pads off to the bathroom and gets the water ready for us.
While we're in the shower, Brian washes my hair. “I think Ted deserves a raise. He's worked hard.”
Another topic from his journal. I'm impressed, he really wants to open up this time. “He's good at what he does.”
“He saved my ass on more than one occasion while I was sick.”
“He's your friend. You gave him a chance after...”
“I know what I did. It was a good business decision.”
I laugh at him as I turn him around to soap his body. “You don't fool me. Ted's your friend, not just an employee.” I kiss him and he returns my kisses. We play a little in the water, me giving him a quick hand job and he reciprocating.
“Can we go to the cemetery tomorrow?”
This throws me for a loop. I didn't expect this at all. “Sure.” I turn off the water, wondering what brought this on, but I know better than to comment on this turn of events.
We get dressed and watch Indiana Jones, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull that we rented from Netflix. Brian loves all the Indiana Jones movies; goes back to the Brian/Mikey show and I love to watch for the special effects, so it works for both of us. After the movie, we go to Woodys for a few games of pool, and end up in Babylon.
He's restless, doesn't want to dance and he's not in the mood for doing drugs. He's had about three drinks and keeps pulling us out to the dance floor. I don't mind since I love to dance, and he's not going to the back room with a lot of random tricks. He gets that way, doesn't trick for a week, sometimes a month. He doesn't say anything to me, sort of like its his own personal experiment. One day he'll decide that it's okay not to trick, and I will be waiting with open arms. We leave Babylon early; it's only 1:30 a.m., and we walk back to the loft. We undress and go to bed.
In the morning, he gets dressed and makes coffee. No sex this morning, but I understand and don't mention it. We eat breakfast, a bagel for me and a Guava shake for him, and he grabs the car keys.
He drives to the cemetery; we don't talk and I watch him from the corner of my eye. He parks the car and we walk to Vic's grave. He doesn't reach for me, so I stand by his side.
“Vic. I wish you were here. I've had some pretty shitty months; the cancer and all, but you know that. I bet you laughed your ass off when you heard I had cancer in one of my balls. You always told me that fucking wasn't the only thing that mattered in the world. I always said you were a crazy old man, but you were right. Cancer taught me something. It taught me....” tears fall down his cheeks and he stops for a moment while he sticks out his arm and pulls me close to him. “Thanks for the lesson.” He stoops down and touches the gravestone, then turns toward me. “Let's go. I only have one life to live and it's moving right along.”
I put my arm around his waist and we walk back to the car in silence. Brian's said so much today; I'm overwhelmed. No journal for me to read and decode. Life is good.
The end
The Drabble ispiration was written by zaipixie and betae by girloftheburbs
TTitle: His Own Brand of Broken
Author: sfscarlet
Beta: girloftheburbs
Short Summary: Brian's Thoughts.
Characters: Justin, Brian,Lindsay and Gus, Ted.
Warnings: Slight angst, NC-17
This is the drabble that inspired the story.
Drabble His Own Brand of Broken
Despite what people thought, Brian knew just how screwed up he was. He also knew the reason for it. The years guarding his heart and soul in the Kinney household had erected seemingly solid walls to hide behind. But the hairline cracks needed constant seeing to.
His pain management was easy to recognize, and he kept it no secret. Sex. Lots of it. Drugs. Equal amount.
Most people didn't even bother to name it as the pathetic band-aid it was.
But the things he did to keep things as firmly together as he was, was something he did alone.
Prologue:
I've had a for shit day. After I take my shower and eat an apple, I pull out my journal and begin writing.
Everyone thinks that I'm unaware of the amount of sex and drugs I do, my pain management, my way to cope with life. I'm aware, very aware, but I know that everyone has masks and I wear mine well. Billy Joel hit it on the nail.
Well we all have a face
That we hide away forever
And we take them out and
Show ourselves
When everyone has gone
Some are satin some are steel
Some are silk and some are leather
They're the faces of the stranger
But we love to try them on
To the public, I'm Brian Fucking Kinney, stud of Babylon and master of pharmacology. I am those things, but I'm also plain Brian Kinney. Justin understands the plain Brian Kinney, the one who lives behind the mask. He was always on to me. Maybe Deb gets it a little, and Linds, well, she knows me, calls me on my shit, but sometimes I wonder where her loyalty is. I think if I gave any indication of swinging both ways, she would jump at the chance to be Mrs. Brian Kinney. I can't even fathom that thought. Ugh. Mikey, unfortunately, only sees me as the 14 year old he met in history class, the bad boy he always wanted to be, but never could figure out how to become. He's no longer wanting to be the bad boy, but he still needs someone to tell him what to do. Thankfully, Ben is that person now and not me.
While I recognize both sides of Brian Kinney, it's much easier to write down the hard parts. Talking about them is too painful, too hard, too much. Justin's seen me write in here, and periodically I give him the journal to read. He always puts it aside to read later, when I'm not there. This isn't some grand novel that I eagerly await his critique. It is my heart, my very being stripped bare so that I can put the pieces together with the glue of drugs and sex to function every day. Its my way to compartmentalize all the parts of my life that don't fit the CEO of Kinnetik or the Babylon playboy. I've come to realize that if I didn't do this, I would go insane. Writing it down is cathartic; it helps me deal with all the shit in my life without suffocating.
Letting Justin read my journal allows him inside the closet of Brian Kinney's tortured soul. He never badgers me, never pushes for me to talk about my feelings--so thankful he is all male and not part-lesbian. He will make a comment, just in passing, that lets me know he understands. I feel less vulnerable, not on the witness stand for the grand inquisition. He already knows my deepest thoughts, and when he makes the comment, I can feel free to talk if I want to. The door is open, cracked, and I'm free to close it or walk through it. We sometimes talk after he's read my journal, but regardless, he gets to know me a little more.
January 17th
This week sucked even more than normal. It started out when Mikey stopped by Kinnetik, blubbering like a five year old. I knew someone died, just by looking at him. My first thought was that it was Debbie and I felt my heart clench at the thought. Deb is my mother, not that bitch Joan, the drunk. I would miss Deb if she weren't here. Debbie understands that I need unconditional love--a mother's love--but sometimes she forgets the role and gets angry at me for doing something. Usually the something involves Mikey or Justin. Unfortunately she has rose-, no make that very dark red, -colored glasses when it comes to Mikey and his faults. He can do no wrong, and someone has to be blamed for his screw ups. When he broke up with Dr. Dave, she told me to fix it. I threw him this huge party and invited his beard. Everybody was so mad at me, but the next day, Debbie realized what and why I did what I did and she forgave me. I'll never apologize to anyone for my actions. You either figure them out ( you will if you know and understand me) or you don't and figure I'm an asshole.
That's what Melanie does. Tells me I'm an asshole--never really seeing what I'm doing. I support Gus despite giving my rights away, a decision that I'll always regret. I do have regrets--many of them--I just won't apologize. I wish I could spend more time with him. This fatherhood thing isn't so bad, and the young man seems to really like hanging out with me. Full-time fatherhood is not in the cards, but part-time is very doable. Maybe someday.
So if it wasn't Deb, who was it? When he told me it was Vic, my heart still clenched and I dropped down in my seat. Silent tears ran down my face and I didn't bother to hide them. If Deb was my mother, Vic was my favorite uncle, the one you talked to and shared things with.
Vic always believed in me, never questioned why I did what I did, and he always cheered me on. He was the first person who accepted what I was without judgment. Being gay himself, it was easy to come out to him. He gave me my first talk about safe sex, and talked and talked to me until he was sure I would not end up like him--positive. I'm glad he didn't suffer and waste away. I don't think any amount of pain management would be sufficient to erase that from my memory. Vic and I would talk about the strangest topics. I remember one afternoon, we spent three hours talking about relationships. No one would believe that I had a three hour conversation with Vic, let alone about relationships, but it happened. He gave me some great advice and I actually have used some of it with Justin.
He was the sane one in the group, knew me better than anyone except Justin. He knew that I was in a relationship with Justin, but didn't tease me or haggle me. It was the most natural thing in the world to him. He never gave advice about how I should treat Sunshine, just that I should respect him. Of course I respect, Justin. He's the most honest, caring person I know.
So what did I do when I went to pay my respects to Deb, I fucked up even more. I told her that everyone should be happy that Vic lived those extra years, that he should have been dead a long time ago. My fucking mouth can get me in more trouble. I either don't say what I want to say or I say the first thing that comes into my head. While it was true that Vic had been given an extra four years, I shouldn't have said it then. Maybe later, when Deb's shock wore off, but not then. So she kicked me to the curb. In a way, she did me a favor. I ended up in Babylon getting my dick sucked by a doctor who told me I had a lump.
Fast forward to today when the doctor confirmed my worst fears. I probably have testicular cancer. Me, Brian Fucking Kinney has cancer of his ball--the irony of it all. I'm the fucking Stud of Liberty Avenue and now, what the fuck am I now--a one-ball wonder. I should just kill myself now--save everyone the trouble of feeling sorry for me. My world will shatter if I cannot use my pain management tools-if I can't get my dick sucked--I'll no longer be the Stud of Liberty Avenue. Who wants half a man? I might as well just buy a shit load of drugs and drown in oblivion. No one will miss me. I can hear the conversations now:
“He overdosed. He's been taking drugs for so long--just miscalculated.”
“Justin should have been there. Maybe he could have stopped him.”
“Now Gus won't grow up watching an over-the-hill club boy.”
I'm too fucking tired to go buy drugs right now. Maybe tomorrow.
January 20th
Saw Sonny Boy today and damn that lesbian, Lindsay. She had me thinking about a grown up Gus, and I realize I want to see a grown up Gus. Guess that means that I go have this diseased ball removed. At least I wasn't a lesbian and told the whole world my problems. They're still reeling from Vic. Thanks Vic for taking the spotlight. I owe you one, old man. I guess it won't matter anyway. Once I'm no longer the stud of Liberty Avenue, the gang will find someone else to hang around with. I'm sure Justin won't want anything to do with me once he finds out. I'll miss him, but he's better off with someone who is whole, not some fucked up guy like me. Maybe his next conquest will actually be able to tell him how he feels--keep him happy.
January 24th
Today was for shit. Cynthia is angrier than shit with me for bailing. And Justin--what do I do with him? He tells me he'll be here when I come back and to do whatever I need to do. How the fuck can he be so patient? I would have thrown my ass to the curb a thousand times over, but no, the twat just continues to take whatever shit I throw his way. He needs to realize that I'm not the person he thinks I am and get on his merry little way. I would have told Cynthia, really I would, but I just couldn't bring myself to see the pity in her eyes. She loves me in her own way--thankfully she realizes that I'm 100% gay and will never have sex with her. But that's okay, she supports me more than anyone, except Justin. Justin is the only person who really believes in me. I wish I didn't have to lose him, but it can't be helped.
January 31st
I'm back in fucking Pittsburgh, the one-ball wonder man. I feel like shit and I probably look like it too, but I have a business to run and I need to return. I felt like such a pussy this afternoon when Ted had to call me a fucking cab. I was so weak, like a baby--not that I really know what a baby feels like nor do I want to, but shit, I could barely walk. Ted was great, a true friend. I'll never tell him what he means to me, but he's great. He can keep his mouth shut, and can arrange for all the things I need. I'll need to give him a good bonus. Surely he's doing this to ensure that Kinnetik stays afloat.
February 2nd
Justin heard the message from the damn doctor and confronted me. Got all weepy and I threw him out. That was the hardest thing I've ever done. He's always left on his own and I've always let him. I do tend to push him off Mt. Kinney, but it's always his choice. I can't let him be with me out of obligation. He doesn't need some diseased one-ball wonder. I know it was the right thing to do. It just kills me to know that he won't be here when I wake up from this nightmare.
February 4th
Fuck ! All I've done is puke for the last six hours. I'm sitting on the couch as I write, trying to stop the nausea from overwhelming my body again. I need to pull myself together. The radiation makes taking any drugs out of the question, and my cock isn't suck-worthy either. I'm coming unglued--the cracks are becoming gaping holes and I'm oozing out of my skin.
I wish Justin were here. I could give him this journal and he would surreptitiously read it and then not talk about it. He'd make a comment and then I could talk without feeling obligated.
I'm scared. The doctors say they got it all and I have a 99% chance of full recovery. What happens if they're wrong? They were wrong about Justin, said he'd never draw again, and look at him now--went to draw a fucking movie. If I can't fuck, I'm nothing--fucking nothing. If I can't fuck, there's no reason to go to Babylon or Woody's. My entire existence is wrapped up in Liberty Avenue.
I regret kicking Justin out. He should have more of a back bone--realizing that I'm full of shit.
I'm so tired. Maybe tomorrow I'll ...
February 9th
Justin returned, thankfully. That stubborn, pain-in-the-ass came back and I let him. I'm glad that he saw through my bullshit. With him, I can be a shit and he will call my game. While everyone else always blames me for shit that isn't my fault, Justin sees the real me. He sees how much I care about Gus, how much I will do for “my family” but he is silent. He supports me. Why did I ever doubt that he would be there for me? I was there for him when he was bashed, even though it just about killed me to watch him struggle.
Justin is the strong one in our relationship, not me. Everyone sees me as the cold, unfeeling guy who only thinks about his dick getting sucked, but that isn't true. I care greatly about a few people--Gus, Justin, Debbie, and even Lindsay fit in the first category. If I didn't care about Lindsay, I wouldn't have fathered Gus. My love for Gus is stronger than I ever anticipated, but I am so glad that he's in my life. Deb is the mother I never had and she calls me on my shit. That's how Deb is--defending her own like a mother bear with its cub and I'm a cub to her.
But Justin is a category all to himself. He got bashed and fought hard to come back, to make a life for himself. He had nightmares for months, and I would hold him while he cried and shook from the nightmares. Eventually he worked through them, and he has them when he is just really stressed out. Unfortunately, his hand will probably always give him trouble, so I gently massage it for him and try to distract him with other things when I see him getting tired. Justin will fight for what he wants, and he wants me. I'm amazed that a 20 year old man can be interested in a 32 year old, but he is, and I'm the lucky one. Maybe there is hope for us after all.
March 14th
The fucking doctors have radiated my fucking ball, and I bet if you put me under a Geiger counter, I'd glow. Who would think that a beam of invisible waves would have such a profound effect on a body part? At least it's over and I can get back to my life. Now if only I could be the Stud of Liberty Avenue again. I haven't had a hard on in forever and I'm beginning to wonder if I ever will. I finished radiation over two weeks ago, and still no life. Justin isn't going to wait forever. He says it doesn't matter, that he'll wait. Soon his needs will need to be met, and I refuse to go through another episode like the fucking fiddler. He's young, virile, and hot, he should be fucking, not cleaning up my puke. Whatever possessed me to be happy that he returned? He would be better off with someone who can fuck him, not some guy with a useless dick. Things have been going well for us, but I can't see him waiting long.
March 21st
That was hot. Justin and I fucked and it was as good as I remember, and I know he enjoyed it too. I was just so happy to have a hard on. Thank you Joan for your timely visit. My mother, the cunt. Who would tell their son that his cancer is a result of his lifestyle? My mother, the bitch, is who. She has the audacity to come into Kinnetik and tell me that I was spared so I could repent from my evil lifestyle. She is crazy. Spared, my ass. I healed thanks to modern medicine and radiation, not some divine intervention. The only thing that came out of her visit was that I was so angry I got a hard on. Never knew that anger could do that. I hope she rots in hell. She surely doesn't care about me and she can keep her distance from me forever. I guess Justin will be sticking around for awhile, now that he's going to be able to get his needs met again. I do like him around.
March 28th
Crisis averted. I'm whole again. Its been a hell of a winter. Justin's coming over tonight. I think I'll leave this out for him.
Justin
I wondered when he would leave me his journal to read. So much shit has happened in the last few months. I see his hold slip when we're alone, and I think I know what he's thinking, but this is his way of telling me he needs me. I wish he'd believe that I'm not going anywhere, but I guess leaving when I found out about the cancer wasn't my best move. Although, he did throw me out. I should have recognized his pain management methods had to change when the usual ones couldn't be accessed. Yelling at me has often substituted for drugs. I know I was hurt and angry, and it took a conversation with Michael to help me come back, but honestly, I was almost ready to do so on my own.
He's still tired and has gone to bed. I'll stay up and read for awhile. Maybe I can help.
It didn't take long to read his entries--there weren't many, but what there was, was gut-wrenching. It's time to address some of his fears. I get in bed with him and we sleep entangled in each other's limbs.
The phone rings about 10:00, waking us up.
“Kinney.”
“...Hi Gus. You do. Well, I think we can handle that. See you in a little while.”
He turns toward me and kisses me softly. “Gus wants to spend the day with us. Now that Lindsay knows about my brush with death, she seems to feel it necessary to ensure that Gus spends time with his Daddy.”
Brian thank you for making this so easy. “Do you think that's the reason Gus is coming over--because Lindsay feels guilty?” I watch the mask fall for just a moment as my words strike a cord. “Gus loves you. He's your son. He's always wanted to be with you. This has nothing to do with your cancer.” I kiss him softly as I make my way to the bathroom and turn the water on for our shower. Brian joins me, and turns me to the wall to start washing my hair.
“Gus likes hanging with his Justin. I think he has a real place for you in his life.”
I lean back into his fingers, enjoying the gentle massage he's providing. “You're Gus' father and he loves you. Watch him when you open the door today. He always runs straight toward you and laughs and smiles when you scoop him up.”
“That's because I'm the good guy. I buy him ice cream and take him to the diner.”
He kisses me and finishes washing my body. “Pity makes my dick soft. Now stop with your pity party. You know that Gus loves you. Turn around so I can wash you. We want to be finished with our fuck session before they get here.”
Brian smiles at my suggestion and turns around. I quickly take the soap and lather his skin, then run my finger down his crack. He spreads his legs, allowing me access to his body. I gently bite his neck as I run my finger up and down his perineum, massaging the sensitive tissue. He presses back into my body, trying to push my finger inside, I comply with his silent request, gently pushing in two fingers. He moans with pleasure and my dick starts to ooze precum. I finger him until I feel his rhythm become faster; he's fucking my fingers. I grab the condom and lube. Taking my fingers out, I coat them with lube and push them back in, making his channel wet and accommodating. I squirt lube on my condom-covered dick and then gently push inside Brian. He pushes back, impaling his body on my cock. I grab his hips, setting up a rhythm between us. I grab Brian's cock, stroking it in time to my thrusts.
“Justinnnnn,” he yells as he shoots across my fingers.
My cock is squeezed by his spasms and I go over the edge as well. He turns his head and we fervently kiss as I grab the edge of the condom, pulling out.
“Water's getting cold,” he states and shuts it off. He steps out of the shower as he grabs the towels and hands me mine. Brian would never admit that he enjoys my cock up his ass, but there are times that he needs me to take over. He's vulnerable, knowing that I've read his most intimate thoughts of the past few months. While he knows I won't push him on any of them, he still feels like he's on display and that is a very uncomfortable feeling. Our lovemaking helps ease his fears. As long as my cock responds to his cock, he feels that his life is in order. Maybe one day, he'll be able to tell me instead of writing down his thoughts, but this is okay for now.
We dress quickly and Brian moves to the kitchen to put on coffee; he needs his caffeine fix for the day. I pick up my art supplies, don't want Gus to start coloring on one of my projects. Before the coffee is finished, the buzzer sounds, announcing their arrival. I stand back and let Brian open the door, watching to see if he looks at Gus like I suggested.
Gus does exactly like I predicted. “Daddy,” he yells and rushes toward Brian's knees, almost knocking him down.
Lindsay gives him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you?”
Brian frowns, he doesn't want to be reminded of his illness. “I'm fine.” He picks up Gus and swings him around like he's an airplane.
“Should you be doing that Brian? He's heavy.”
“I said I was fine. I have a clean bill of health. Now stop asking questions.” He puts Gus down and bends down to talk to him. “Sonny Boy. Have you eaten breakfast? I happen to know a diner that serves the best pancakes in the world.”
“Yippeee. Go see Grandma Debbie?”
“Probably. If she isn't there, maybe we'll go to her house to say hello.”
I come out of the bedroom and kiss Lindsay hello. “Hey Linds. How are you?”
“Great. I was going to go shopping this morning and Gus said he wanted to see Brian, so here we are.”
“Gus has good ideas. Spend some time with your pregnant wife before another baby invades your world,” I suggest as I walk over to the door.
“Are you sure? I mean, Gus is a lot to handle these days. Lots of energy.” I hear her unspoken words of caution and they make me sad. She knows Brian is still recovering from the radiation, and she doesn't want to push Gus on him. On the other hand, she wants Gus to be with his father. “We'll be just fine.” I bend down and whisper in Gus' ear. “Kiss your mom goodbye, big guy.”
He giggles at my suggestion and does as I ask. “Bye Mommy. Dad and Justin going to take me for pancakes and see Grandma Debbie.” He scampers off to his corner of the loft where his toys are and finds a truck, rolling it on the hardwood floors.
Linds walks out of the loft and I close the door. I go to Brian who is finishing his cup of coffee. “Let's go eat. I'm starving.” My stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly, and he laughs.
“Sunshine. Brian and Gus!” Debbie yells as the bell announces our arrival. She walks over to our booth with her proverbial pad and pen. “Gus, I have a big plate of pancakes with your name on it. What'll it be, boys?”
“I'll have the pancakes, some bacon, and a glass of chocolate milk.”
“Two egg whites and wheat toast, no butter.”
“You need more than that, Brian. You need to build up your strength. I'll bring you an omelet and toast.”
Brian just rolls his eyes, but knows better than to argue with Deb.
“Daddy. Why does everybody keep asking how you are?”
I watch Brian with eager eyes, wondering how he's going to answer Gus. Brian will never lie but he doesn't want to scare Gus.
“I was sick for awhile. That's why you didn't see me, but I'm better now.”
“Okay. I'm glad. Can we go to the park today? Mommy won't let me go when I'm sick, but since you're not sick anymore, maybe you'd like to play too.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“Yippee.”
Debbie brings the food and we eat. Brian manages to finish his omelet, and he eats a few bites of my pancake as well. Deb is happy, but knows Brian well enough to be quiet. Gus slurps the last of his chocolate milk and starts pumping his feet in the booth.
“Can we go to the park nowww, Daddy. I want to feed the ducks and you can push me on the swing.”
Brian pays the bill and leaves his big tip as usual, and we drive to the park where father and son feed the ducks and enjoy the swings. Gus starts to rub his eyes, a sure sign that he is ready for his nap.
“Gus, time to go home.” I say as I see Brian slowing down as well.
“But I want to play some more.” He runs up to the slide and starts walking up the rungs.
“Two more slides and then we need to go back to the loft. We'll play Candyland when you get up from your nap.”
“I'm too old to take a nap. My friend Jason says naps are for babies,” he pronounces in a voice full of four year old knowledge.
“Daddy and I are going to take a nap.”
He thinks about this statement for all of 15 seconds, decides this is acceptable, and announces,“Okay.” I love four year old logic.
We all take naps and then play a few rounds of Candyland. Lindsay comes to pick Gus up about 4:00.
When they leave, Brian lights up a cigarette, watching out the window as they walk to Lindsay's car. “He's such a great kid.”
“I told you he loves you.”
“You're very smart, Mr. 1500-on-your-SAT's. I did it for him, you know.”
I knew immediately that Brian was talking about the surgery and radiation, but I went along with the conversation. “Did what?”
“Had the surgery, radiation. I wanted to see him grow up.”
I go over and hug him, placing my cheek against his chest. “Now you will.”
He stabs out the cigarette and pulls me towards the bedroom, where he quickly takes off my clothes, pushing me on my back. He kisses me throughly, exploring all my skin from my forehead down to my pubes. I shiver in anticipation, knowing that Brian is making love to me. There is nothing like being made love to by Brian. He is gentle but forceful, and the look in his eyes melts my soul. Placing himself between my legs, he engulfs my cock, taking it all in. Swirling his tongue, he plays with the mushroom head and the sensitive skin underneath. I arch into his mouth, trying to push my body into his. He calms me with his hands, showing me he wants to savor this moment, not reach the finish quickly. His fingers play with my balls, fondling each with just the right touch of firmness. My breath hitches as he takes the fingers from one hand and lightly touches my perineum, fingers ghosting my hole.
“Briannn,” I plead, knowing he understands my desire.
He removes his mouth from my dick, sliding it down to my balls, sucking each one into his mouth and playing with it. I pant even heavier now, feeling my body race to the finish line, long before I'm ready.
He hears the hitch in my breath, the shallow pants, and he grabs the lube and condom from the drawer. He quickly lubes my hole and puts the condom on and then lubes it as well. Placing his cock at my entrance, he pushes slightly, breaching the barrier. He waits for my signal--I nod my head and touch his butt, and he slowly pushes in the rest of the way. I reach up for his mouth, needing to kiss him, to have as much of my body in contact with his as I possibly can. He kisses me, devouring my mouth and cementing our union.
“Briannn,” I moan as he slowly pumps in and out of me. It's a dance, choreographed to the ultimate level by us. We know the dance, understand its meaning, its significance.
“Justinnn,” he sighs as he pumps again into me, pushing my hot spot with each thrust.
I can no longer hold back; I've reached the point of no return. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull him into my body as tight as I can. He pumps faster, grabbing my dick to increase my enjoyment. “Come for me,” he urges as I tilt my hips up to meet his cock. I shoot all over us and I feel him spasm inside me. He reaches for the condom, pulls out and ties it off, tossing it into the trash. He lays on top of me, my legs open to accommodate his larger frame.
This is always one of my favorite times, after we've made love. I stroke his hair and back and give him light kisses. He lays on top of me, claiming me as his own. We fall asleep, neglecting to wash off my cum, and when we wake up an hour later we are stuck to each other.
“Twat,” he says as he pulls himself off me, dried cum on his stomach. “I need a shower.” He pads off to the bathroom and gets the water ready for us.
While we're in the shower, Brian washes my hair. “I think Ted deserves a raise. He's worked hard.”
Another topic from his journal. I'm impressed, he really wants to open up this time. “He's good at what he does.”
“He saved my ass on more than one occasion while I was sick.”
“He's your friend. You gave him a chance after...”
“I know what I did. It was a good business decision.”
I laugh at him as I turn him around to soap his body. “You don't fool me. Ted's your friend, not just an employee.” I kiss him and he returns my kisses. We play a little in the water, me giving him a quick hand job and he reciprocating.
“Can we go to the cemetery tomorrow?”
This throws me for a loop. I didn't expect this at all. “Sure.” I turn off the water, wondering what brought this on, but I know better than to comment on this turn of events.
We get dressed and watch Indiana Jones, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull that we rented from Netflix. Brian loves all the Indiana Jones movies; goes back to the Brian/Mikey show and I love to watch for the special effects, so it works for both of us. After the movie, we go to Woodys for a few games of pool, and end up in Babylon.
He's restless, doesn't want to dance and he's not in the mood for doing drugs. He's had about three drinks and keeps pulling us out to the dance floor. I don't mind since I love to dance, and he's not going to the back room with a lot of random tricks. He gets that way, doesn't trick for a week, sometimes a month. He doesn't say anything to me, sort of like its his own personal experiment. One day he'll decide that it's okay not to trick, and I will be waiting with open arms. We leave Babylon early; it's only 1:30 a.m., and we walk back to the loft. We undress and go to bed.
In the morning, he gets dressed and makes coffee. No sex this morning, but I understand and don't mention it. We eat breakfast, a bagel for me and a Guava shake for him, and he grabs the car keys.
He drives to the cemetery; we don't talk and I watch him from the corner of my eye. He parks the car and we walk to Vic's grave. He doesn't reach for me, so I stand by his side.
“Vic. I wish you were here. I've had some pretty shitty months; the cancer and all, but you know that. I bet you laughed your ass off when you heard I had cancer in one of my balls. You always told me that fucking wasn't the only thing that mattered in the world. I always said you were a crazy old man, but you were right. Cancer taught me something. It taught me....” tears fall down his cheeks and he stops for a moment while he sticks out his arm and pulls me close to him. “Thanks for the lesson.” He stoops down and touches the gravestone, then turns toward me. “Let's go. I only have one life to live and it's moving right along.”
I put my arm around his waist and we walk back to the car in silence. Brian's said so much today; I'm overwhelmed. No journal for me to read and decode. Life is good.
The end