Are you coming or going? by Begok
Title: Are you coming or going?
Author: I only translated it, begok worked the magic!
Original post: At her LJ, here
Timeline: Post 513
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Prompted by: this manip by britinkinlor
Disclaimer: They belong to me and live in a cage in my basement. No, really, they do.
Seven years ago today I packed my bags and left Pittsburgh to fly to New York, looking for an opportunity and success in my career. I don’t regret having made that decision. It helped me to grow as a person, to improve as an artist and strengthened my relationship with Brian, although there were times along the way when I thought we wouldn’t make it.
Seven years have passed since I left Brian sleeping on the bed and closed the loft’s door, wishing some day I’ll return and open it but fearing that distance, time and even Brian himself wouldn’t let me do it. But also hoping that, if things got tough, we’ll make it through with my stubbornness and determination.
I add a last stroke to the painting and take a couple of steps back to watch it at the proper distance. I realize I'm smiling so I try to get serious to judge the painting with the right standards but the image I see on the canvas brings me back so many memories that I can’t wipe the smile of my face.
I have no need to turn around to know he is standing at the door, watching me. He's probably smiling and he’ll be raising an eyebrow as soon as he notices the painting. Sometimes, when he thinks nobody watches, he lowers his barriers enough for me to see that he keeps on getting surprised seeing himself through my eyes. He should know by now, twelve years later, that for me he will always be the most beautiful man in the world.
I stay looking at the painting, letting the time pass until Brian decides to get closer. Out of the corner of my eye I feel a movement and fix my gaze on the large canvas, although he knows I know he’s there, we continue the charade as a game.
He puts his arms around me and rests his chin on my shoulder as he bends his knees to stay at my height. The warmth of his body makes me shudder and he smiles in my ear. He love knowing that he has that effect on me, even after so long.
- The night I took your virginity?
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile. Even though I keep pretending that was just one more night we both know that when he decided to take me to the loft, we both knew that it wouldn’t be just a fuck, disappearing in the morning. For me, at least, that was clear. I lean my back on his chest and in my temple in his, still staring at the painting.
- The night I fell in love with you.
Brian hugs me tightly against his body and kisses my cheek with one of those wet vacuum-like kisses I like so much.
- That's because I fucked your brains out- he whispers in my ear, giving me goosebumps.
I don’t answer, but I turn around inside his arms to face him. In all these years I’ve learned to read in his eyes and right now I see amusement, nostalgia and love in them because Brian doesn’t care about hiding it from me anymore.
- That was because I knew you were the man of my life.
Brian does not respond, he leans over and kisses me, parting my lips with his tongue and sinking his fingers in my hair to keep me close. As if running away from him had ever crossed my mind...
I have trouble thinking, my heart beats fast and my lips feel swollen and warm when Brian breaks the kiss. I stand with my eyes closed, my forehead resting on Brian’s chin and breathing in the intense aroma that he gives off, a mixture of cigarettes, expensive perfume and something that it's hard to describe but that I’d identify without hesitation as his, in a million.
I turn once again to look at the painting, letting Brian wrap me in his arms, my back against his chest and my head on his shoulder. The Brian looking back at me from the painting is younger than the one hugging me, but just as sexy. As I observe the painting, looking for mistakes or imperfections, I think I hear the voice of that 29-year-old Brian offering himself up to a terrified and yet terribly excited 17-year-old boy.
Are you coming or going? Or coming and Then going? Or coming and staying?
It’s been eight years since I left, one since I came back to Pittsburgh and a month since we moved to Britin after the remodelling and I have never been so sure that, that first night, I made the best decision of my life.
Author: I only translated it, begok worked the magic!
Original post: At her LJ, here
Timeline: Post 513
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Prompted by: this manip by britinkinlor
Disclaimer: They belong to me and live in a cage in my basement. No, really, they do.
Seven years ago today I packed my bags and left Pittsburgh to fly to New York, looking for an opportunity and success in my career. I don’t regret having made that decision. It helped me to grow as a person, to improve as an artist and strengthened my relationship with Brian, although there were times along the way when I thought we wouldn’t make it.
Seven years have passed since I left Brian sleeping on the bed and closed the loft’s door, wishing some day I’ll return and open it but fearing that distance, time and even Brian himself wouldn’t let me do it. But also hoping that, if things got tough, we’ll make it through with my stubbornness and determination.
I add a last stroke to the painting and take a couple of steps back to watch it at the proper distance. I realize I'm smiling so I try to get serious to judge the painting with the right standards but the image I see on the canvas brings me back so many memories that I can’t wipe the smile of my face.
I have no need to turn around to know he is standing at the door, watching me. He's probably smiling and he’ll be raising an eyebrow as soon as he notices the painting. Sometimes, when he thinks nobody watches, he lowers his barriers enough for me to see that he keeps on getting surprised seeing himself through my eyes. He should know by now, twelve years later, that for me he will always be the most beautiful man in the world.
I stay looking at the painting, letting the time pass until Brian decides to get closer. Out of the corner of my eye I feel a movement and fix my gaze on the large canvas, although he knows I know he’s there, we continue the charade as a game.
He puts his arms around me and rests his chin on my shoulder as he bends his knees to stay at my height. The warmth of his body makes me shudder and he smiles in my ear. He love knowing that he has that effect on me, even after so long.
- The night I took your virginity?
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile. Even though I keep pretending that was just one more night we both know that when he decided to take me to the loft, we both knew that it wouldn’t be just a fuck, disappearing in the morning. For me, at least, that was clear. I lean my back on his chest and in my temple in his, still staring at the painting.
- The night I fell in love with you.
Brian hugs me tightly against his body and kisses my cheek with one of those wet vacuum-like kisses I like so much.
- That's because I fucked your brains out- he whispers in my ear, giving me goosebumps.
I don’t answer, but I turn around inside his arms to face him. In all these years I’ve learned to read in his eyes and right now I see amusement, nostalgia and love in them because Brian doesn’t care about hiding it from me anymore.
- That was because I knew you were the man of my life.
Brian does not respond, he leans over and kisses me, parting my lips with his tongue and sinking his fingers in my hair to keep me close. As if running away from him had ever crossed my mind...
I have trouble thinking, my heart beats fast and my lips feel swollen and warm when Brian breaks the kiss. I stand with my eyes closed, my forehead resting on Brian’s chin and breathing in the intense aroma that he gives off, a mixture of cigarettes, expensive perfume and something that it's hard to describe but that I’d identify without hesitation as his, in a million.
I turn once again to look at the painting, letting Brian wrap me in his arms, my back against his chest and my head on his shoulder. The Brian looking back at me from the painting is younger than the one hugging me, but just as sexy. As I observe the painting, looking for mistakes or imperfections, I think I hear the voice of that 29-year-old Brian offering himself up to a terrified and yet terribly excited 17-year-old boy.
Are you coming or going? Or coming and Then going? Or coming and staying?
It’s been eight years since I left, one since I came back to Pittsburgh and a month since we moved to Britin after the remodelling and I have never been so sure that, that first night, I made the best decision of my life.