Rock Me Gently (5/5)
Title: Rock Me Gently
Rating: PG-13
Author: sunshine_kin
Summary: People cope in different ways. This is Justin's.
Warnings: major character death, ghosts, AU
Comments: One ridiculous minor detail from season 5 that gives nothing away. Many thanks to darksylvia for the nit-picking and beta for this entire story!!!!
Read part four, here!
---Rock Me Gently---
Part 5/5: Hold Me...
"You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there"
Sarah McLachlan - Angel
Justin becomes increasingly irritating after Brian's unexpected departure. He was left hard and panting completely alone.
He's called in sick for the past fourteen days. People are becoming worried, and it doesn't seem like Brian will return. He ignores everyone who calls, turns away all that knock and his only indication of life to those around him is the frequent, obsessive pacing Justin has done in front of the window. It casts a large silhoutte and he waves down at Emmett dismissively before retreating to the kitchen.
Justin idly wonders why he didn't ask any of the questions he's been meaning to. Would Brian would ever show up while he was with other people, and if he did, what would they see? Was Brian just visible to him? What if he was in public? Justin feels foolish, believing in ghosts and the return of the dead. It sounds cinematic and poorly portrayed.
Where the hell *is* Brian? Why hasn't he returned since that night? A rage begins to take root inside, targeted at Brian for leaving him again. It's not as if he could just call the bastard and say, "Get your ass back home!" he doesn't even know who to call.
Justin needs some emotional outlet. The plate on the counter shatters on the dark wood floor. The remnants of wine glasses collect into a small mound of glass shards on the kitchen floor. Brian's splintered cell phone lays in the corner, various distinct pieces jutting out from the disfigured plastic.
Justin knows he's enjoying this destruction of their home far too much, but it's too hard to resist. Grinning, he knocks lamps over and overturns the large dining table. Kicks the sofa against the TV before he strides back into the kitchen, hastily grabbing five bottles of alcohol from the cart.
"Ah, the Jim Beam," he snarls aloud, hand tightly gripping the neck,"Brian loves this stuff..." and with a victorious cry brings it down on Brian's flat panel monitor. The silent buzzing plays in his ears as the liquid seeps across the desk like blood.
The second bottle is red wine, but its drip marks resemble thinned blood against the stark white living room carpet as the wine slides down the TV screen.
"Brian!" voice cracking in rage, "Come out! I know you're here!" Suddenly he gets an idea. He unscrews the cap of the vodka and pours it directly into his mouth, most of it dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt. The rest he uses to drown his paintings. The smile brightens as he soaks the bed with the remaining two bottles. "Come save me!" voice glee. Must I be blindfolded again?" Justin sighs, "I've already seen everything!"
Frustrated and exhausted, he collapses into one of the white dining room chairs. Could it really be that he tried to look again? It would have only been a peek, he reasons.
His eyes gloss around the room pausing at Brian's lighter on the counter.
"BRIAN!" he screams, pushing his chair back abruptly with a screech. He drags the chair through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Eyeing his reflection, chest heaving, dark circles under his eyes, and both hands clutching the back of the chair until his knuckles are white, he suddenly hates the image. With another cry of Brian's name, he hurls the chair shuddering against the mirror with a dull crack.
He drops the chair and fumbles toward the living room, "If you're testing my survival skills without you, I can't. I can't do it. I haven't eaten in three days, I haven't slept in four. I don't function anymore without you. Please come visit me..." he falls to his knees in front of the sofa, head laying against it in exhaustion.
// * \\
When Justin awakens from the awkward nap, he realizes his efforts were indeed in vain. Brian hadn't shown.
Suddenly feeling fidgety from staying at home waiting for the past two weeks, Justin goes for a drive, for the first time, in Brian's car. He realizes he has no idea where he is going, only that he needs to get there. Perhaps if he is reckless enough, Brian will try to stop him.
During one of his multiple gas breaks, Justin climbs back into the 'vette and is well on the road before he realizes he's no longer alone. Justin disregards the need to check his blind spot, but relief floods his body when he thinks he sees Brian in his peripheral vision. He's too afraid to look directly, and continues driving, ignoring the persistent feeling of Brian's presence that makes the air thick with words to say but leaves his throat dry and mind empty.
Finally, he knows this is his destination. He has no idea where he's driven to, in what direction or for how long. Only that this beach is beautiful, and that he needs to look. It's almost sunrise, and the colors make his fingers itch to paint it. Justin smiles to himself when he hears the passenger door slam shut and Brian's familiar shuffle echoing his own footsteps. When he reaches the line between land and sea, he closes his eyes and is calmed by Brian's warm chest and chin resting on his shoulder.
"I owe Zeus a blow-job for this last trip, but don't tell," he says seriously.
Justin smirks, "How big is his dick?"
He feels Brian's deep laughter in his chest as arms fold across his stomach, and Justin focuses his attention on the flickering sparkles across the water at the first glimpse of daybreak. He won't say anything stupid, won't turn around, won't break the comforting silence...
"Justin," Brian says softly, and Justin is jerked from spell. "This is where it all ends, you know? Where it all begins..." The spill of water along the shore catches Justin's attention. "The blur between things...is more subtle than..." he hears Brian swallow. "This...mingling is why I..." For the first time in Justin's life, he feels like Brian is at a lost for words. But he remains quiet and patiently listens.
"It's not a door, Justin. It's a gleaming archway! With gold trim and a border of damned glowing gardenias! Fuck!" He's exasperated. Is Brian afraid?
Justin winces, then frowns in confusion.
"I'm sorry," Brian barely whispers. Then louder, "Come on." Justin keeps his eyes tightly shut as Brian leads him by the hand out toward sea. They walk over the tumbling waves as if it were still sand on the beach, the sun shining faintly beneath his eyelids as the reds and oranges cascade across the sky.
The deafening ocean crashes slowly fade and Justin knows he's flying.
"Brian, why are you telling me this? I..."
"I know." Justin thinks Brian's awkward breaths cause him to exhale when he repeats, "I'm sorry."
He sighs understandingly.
Justin feels cold as he climbs higher toward the feathery clouds. Is this heaven? The air feels so thin, he's having trouble breathing, taking great gulps one after another to sustain himself. It's like suffocating. His fingers clench Brian's hand tightly as panic sets in and the cold is almost wet, his hands feel pruny in such dry air.
But the sensation will eventually pass; he knows he'll make it.
"Justin," he finally hears Brian's voice echo from far away. "Open your eyes."
* finis *
1) I'm sorry, darksylvia for mocking your door suggestion.
2) There's actually a lot material I decided not to include, backstory on Brian's death, keywords making the story less vague. Grins.
3) I want to write a commentary on this. Who writes commentaries on their own writing?!? Oh yes, I can see it now, "Shakespeare's Use of Meter -- The Iambic Pentameter" by...WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
4) The complete title of the chapter would have been from the title of the song, "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me." But...I thought that gave away a little *too* much.
Feedback is my cocaine.
Rating: PG-13
Author: sunshine_kin
Summary: People cope in different ways. This is Justin's.
Warnings: major character death, ghosts, AU
Comments: One ridiculous minor detail from season 5 that gives nothing away. Many thanks to darksylvia for the nit-picking and beta for this entire story!!!!
Read part four, here!
---Rock Me Gently---
Part 5/5: Hold Me...
"You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there"
Sarah McLachlan - Angel
Justin becomes increasingly irritating after Brian's unexpected departure. He was left hard and panting completely alone.
He's called in sick for the past fourteen days. People are becoming worried, and it doesn't seem like Brian will return. He ignores everyone who calls, turns away all that knock and his only indication of life to those around him is the frequent, obsessive pacing Justin has done in front of the window. It casts a large silhoutte and he waves down at Emmett dismissively before retreating to the kitchen.
Justin idly wonders why he didn't ask any of the questions he's been meaning to. Would Brian would ever show up while he was with other people, and if he did, what would they see? Was Brian just visible to him? What if he was in public? Justin feels foolish, believing in ghosts and the return of the dead. It sounds cinematic and poorly portrayed.
Where the hell *is* Brian? Why hasn't he returned since that night? A rage begins to take root inside, targeted at Brian for leaving him again. It's not as if he could just call the bastard and say, "Get your ass back home!" he doesn't even know who to call.
Justin needs some emotional outlet. The plate on the counter shatters on the dark wood floor. The remnants of wine glasses collect into a small mound of glass shards on the kitchen floor. Brian's splintered cell phone lays in the corner, various distinct pieces jutting out from the disfigured plastic.
Justin knows he's enjoying this destruction of their home far too much, but it's too hard to resist. Grinning, he knocks lamps over and overturns the large dining table. Kicks the sofa against the TV before he strides back into the kitchen, hastily grabbing five bottles of alcohol from the cart.
"Ah, the Jim Beam," he snarls aloud, hand tightly gripping the neck,"Brian loves this stuff..." and with a victorious cry brings it down on Brian's flat panel monitor. The silent buzzing plays in his ears as the liquid seeps across the desk like blood.
The second bottle is red wine, but its drip marks resemble thinned blood against the stark white living room carpet as the wine slides down the TV screen.
"Brian!" voice cracking in rage, "Come out! I know you're here!" Suddenly he gets an idea. He unscrews the cap of the vodka and pours it directly into his mouth, most of it dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt. The rest he uses to drown his paintings. The smile brightens as he soaks the bed with the remaining two bottles. "Come save me!" voice glee. Must I be blindfolded again?" Justin sighs, "I've already seen everything!"
Frustrated and exhausted, he collapses into one of the white dining room chairs. Could it really be that he tried to look again? It would have only been a peek, he reasons.
His eyes gloss around the room pausing at Brian's lighter on the counter.
"BRIAN!" he screams, pushing his chair back abruptly with a screech. He drags the chair through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Eyeing his reflection, chest heaving, dark circles under his eyes, and both hands clutching the back of the chair until his knuckles are white, he suddenly hates the image. With another cry of Brian's name, he hurls the chair shuddering against the mirror with a dull crack.
He drops the chair and fumbles toward the living room, "If you're testing my survival skills without you, I can't. I can't do it. I haven't eaten in three days, I haven't slept in four. I don't function anymore without you. Please come visit me..." he falls to his knees in front of the sofa, head laying against it in exhaustion.
// * \\
When Justin awakens from the awkward nap, he realizes his efforts were indeed in vain. Brian hadn't shown.
Suddenly feeling fidgety from staying at home waiting for the past two weeks, Justin goes for a drive, for the first time, in Brian's car. He realizes he has no idea where he is going, only that he needs to get there. Perhaps if he is reckless enough, Brian will try to stop him.
During one of his multiple gas breaks, Justin climbs back into the 'vette and is well on the road before he realizes he's no longer alone. Justin disregards the need to check his blind spot, but relief floods his body when he thinks he sees Brian in his peripheral vision. He's too afraid to look directly, and continues driving, ignoring the persistent feeling of Brian's presence that makes the air thick with words to say but leaves his throat dry and mind empty.
Finally, he knows this is his destination. He has no idea where he's driven to, in what direction or for how long. Only that this beach is beautiful, and that he needs to look. It's almost sunrise, and the colors make his fingers itch to paint it. Justin smiles to himself when he hears the passenger door slam shut and Brian's familiar shuffle echoing his own footsteps. When he reaches the line between land and sea, he closes his eyes and is calmed by Brian's warm chest and chin resting on his shoulder.
"I owe Zeus a blow-job for this last trip, but don't tell," he says seriously.
Justin smirks, "How big is his dick?"
He feels Brian's deep laughter in his chest as arms fold across his stomach, and Justin focuses his attention on the flickering sparkles across the water at the first glimpse of daybreak. He won't say anything stupid, won't turn around, won't break the comforting silence...
"Justin," Brian says softly, and Justin is jerked from spell. "This is where it all ends, you know? Where it all begins..." The spill of water along the shore catches Justin's attention. "The blur between things...is more subtle than..." he hears Brian swallow. "This...mingling is why I..." For the first time in Justin's life, he feels like Brian is at a lost for words. But he remains quiet and patiently listens.
"It's not a door, Justin. It's a gleaming archway! With gold trim and a border of damned glowing gardenias! Fuck!" He's exasperated. Is Brian afraid?
Justin winces, then frowns in confusion.
"I'm sorry," Brian barely whispers. Then louder, "Come on." Justin keeps his eyes tightly shut as Brian leads him by the hand out toward sea. They walk over the tumbling waves as if it were still sand on the beach, the sun shining faintly beneath his eyelids as the reds and oranges cascade across the sky.
The deafening ocean crashes slowly fade and Justin knows he's flying.
"Brian, why are you telling me this? I..."
"I know." Justin thinks Brian's awkward breaths cause him to exhale when he repeats, "I'm sorry."
He sighs understandingly.
Justin feels cold as he climbs higher toward the feathery clouds. Is this heaven? The air feels so thin, he's having trouble breathing, taking great gulps one after another to sustain himself. It's like suffocating. His fingers clench Brian's hand tightly as panic sets in and the cold is almost wet, his hands feel pruny in such dry air.
But the sensation will eventually pass; he knows he'll make it.
"Justin," he finally hears Brian's voice echo from far away. "Open your eyes."
* finis *
1) I'm sorry, darksylvia for mocking your door suggestion.
2) There's actually a lot material I decided not to include, backstory on Brian's death, keywords making the story less vague. Grins.
3) I want to write a commentary on this. Who writes commentaries on their own writing?!? Oh yes, I can see it now, "Shakespeare's Use of Meter -- The Iambic Pentameter" by...WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
4) The complete title of the chapter would have been from the title of the song, "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me." But...I thought that gave away a little *too* much.
Feedback is my cocaine.