"Coup de Foudre" 11
Michael confronts Brian.
By Gaedhal
Los Angeles, May 2016
“Brian?” The room was dark and still, but Michael recognized that distinctive Brian odor of sweat, sex, tobacco, and vanilla. “Brian? It’s me, Michael?”
“Who the fuck else would it be?” came a voice from the bed. “Don’t you always come tap-tap-tapping on my fucking door, even after I told you to go the fuck away?”
Michael approached the bed. “I’m not going away, so you might as well talk to me.”
Brian’s head poked up out of the tumbled sheets. His eyes were shadowed and his hair in supreme disarray. “Just fuck off, Mikey. Please, just this once, do what I say.”
“No,” Michael stated. “I’m not going away. When I called after I heard about Ron and you said that Ben and I shouldn’t come to the funeral, I knew you thought you’d have everything under control. That you wouldn’t need us to help you…”
“I don’t need anyone’s fucking help!” Brian shouted, bolting out of the bed. He was still wearing the pants that went with his Armani suit, but was shirtless and barefoot. “Especially not yours, or Ben’s, or Deb’s, or Lindsay’s, or anyone else who thinks they can come in here and fix everything! Because you can’t fix anything, Michael! You can’t fix me. And you can’t fix Ron! It’s fucking OVER! So go away. Leave me alone. And tell Diane and Dorian and whoever the fuck else is lurking outside that they can’t fix anything either. So they should leave this house NOW!”
“You want me to leave,” Michael stated. “I get that.”
“You’re a genius, Mikey,” Brian spat. “A fucking genius! My God! How you even managed a semester of fucking community college is beyond belief. If I hadn’t done all your homework senior year, you’d still be in fucking high school!”
Michael swallowed. “You’re probably right about that. I’m no genius. But you’re not so smart, either, Brian.”
“I’m smart enough to know the truth,” Brian replied. “Smart enough to know when I’m fucking defeated. And you know what? I’m not even drunk! I’m not even stoned! I’m fucking sober - and it’s the worst feeling in the fucking world!”
“I bet it is,” Michael whispered. “I bet it feels shitty.”
“Shitty doesn’t begin to cover it.” Brian began stalking around the room aimlessly. “It fucking feels like someone burned my skin off and all my insides are exposed. That’s what it feels like. I… I remember how I felt when… when Justin was in that coma.” He slumped down on the bed. “I was numb. I couldn’t feel my hands or my feet. It was like my mind was one place and my body was somewhere else and that the two would never get back together again. But this… this is something else.” He looked up at Michael and his face was haunted. “Ten fucking years! That’s what it feels like! Like ten fucking years of my life have been ripped out of my body.”
Michael stepped forward slowly. “I know. I understand.”
“You can’t possibly understand!” Brian snapped. “Everyone keeps saying that they understand. That they’re so fucking sorry. Well, they don’t understand! They can’t fucking understand! And I don’t give a fuck if they’re sorry! Sorry is meaningless! Sorry doesn’t mean shit! It… doesn’t… mean… shit…”
Brian’s voice trailed off as he put his head in his hands and sobbed. Michael’s heart was breaking, but he was afraid to approach him. Afraid Brian would lash out at him. But if he didn’t, then who would? Who could?
Michael had loved Brian Kinney since the moment he saw him walk into their eighth grade classroom, the new boy. He was younger than Michael, but he was already the tallest boy in the class. Tall and handsome and confident. Some said he was arrogant. An asshole. A fuck-up. The kind of kid who would lead you astray. But Brian was also the smartest kid in the class, whip-sharp and knowing in a way that most kids were not. Something in his eyes said, “I know things you’ve never thought of and I’ve done things you can only dream of.” From that moment on, Michael dreamed of being led astray by Brian Kinney.
But he was also afraid of Brian and always had been. Afraid of his intensity and his mercurial temper. Afraid of his hard intelligence and his cold beauty. Afraid of his overwhelming sexuality. Afraid of what he was capable of. And afraid of what he brought out in Michael.
And also afraid of something no one would ever have imagined about Brian Kinney unless they knew him to his core - his vulnerability. His neediness. A need so great that Michael had always held back, even when he wanted Brian so badly he thought he’d die. Held back because he knew he wasn’t strong enough for Brian. That he would be sucked in and lost forever inside the all-consuming entity that was Brian Kinney. He’d only known two people who he’d ever thought were strong enough to survive that white heat. One was Ron. And the other… Michael turned his mind away from the other one, blocking that thought.
But now Brian needed him more than he’d ever needed him before. He couldn’t be afraid. He couldn’t hesitate.
“I know I can never understand what you’re going through,” he began. “No one can. No one can ever know what’s inside someone else. No one can feel another person’s… grief.” Michael had to be careful. The wrong word, the wrong phrase, and he’d lose Brian. But he couldn’t lose him. Not now. “That’s yours, Brian. No one else can touch it.”
Michael waited. Brian was silent, but he was listening. He’d hadn’t closed him out - at least not yet. So he continued.
“But other people are feeling their own grief. It’s not the same as yours, but it’s just as… as important to them. Ron’s mother. His sisters. Think about what they’re feeling. And Diane loved Ron, too. She’s the one who called me. Because she loves both of you.”
“Diane.” Brian took a deep breath. “I might have figured she was the one. She’s always been a fucking busybody. And she really thinks she owns me ever since…” Brian paused. “Do you know I have a daughter, Michael? You’re not the only one.”
“No,” Michael gulped. It had been almost two years since he’d seen Jenny Rebecca. “I didn’t know.”
“Diane’s daughter, Mia. Just like Lindsay, she caught me in a moment of weakness. Why do I do these things to myself? Why the fuck? Ron encouraged her, too. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world, but I didn’t see him offering her his spunk in a cup. Son of a fucking bitch… I need a drink. Badly.”
“Have you eaten anything, Brian?” Michael put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Can I get you some water?”
“No!” Brian bellowed, jerking away. “I don’t want any fucking food. I’m not hungry. And I don’t want water. I need booze and plenty of it. As soon as I get all these people out of this fucking house - and that includes you, Mikey - I’m going to start drinking and I’m not going to stop until I fucking pass out - forever!”
“You could do that,” Michael said softly. “You could drink yourself into oblivion. Or drug yourself. You’ve done it before. I can’t stop you. No one can stop you. But I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t.”
Brian was still as a stone. “So tell me, Mikey. Why the fuck shouldn’t I?”
Michael steeled himself. “Because Gus needs you not to. He’s grieving, too, in case you hadn’t noticed. Or are you too selfish to care that your son is hurting? He’s only a kid. He’s 15. Don’t you remember yourself at 15? Because I do. I remember that you hurt so bad you tried to run away more than once. And then you succeeded. You ran away because your father failed you, Brian. He failed you because he was a drunk, selfish bastard. Does that sound familiar? Is that what you want to be to Gus? The guy who causes him more pain when he’s already in so much pain he can’t even process it? And maybe I’m not very smart. I admit that.”
Brian winced. “Michael, I…”
“No, let me finish,” he said. “You’re right. I probably wouldn’t have graduated from high school without your help. I couldn’t make it through community college, while you got a scholarship to Penn State and were the golden boy at everything you ever tried. And… and as a father I’m pretty worthless, too. I hardly ever see my daughter. Melanie sees to that and I’m too much of a wuss to fight her. But I thought you were better than that, Brian. You and Ron - you were both better than that. So don’t let Gus down. And don’t let Ron down, either. I know how much you love Gus - and how much Ron loved him. And if you have a daughter, don’t be that asshole who is just a fucking teaspoonful of come in a cup. Don’t become Jack Kinney. You’re better than that.”
“I’m not fucking Jack Kinney!” Brian jumped up so quickly he almost knocked Michael over. “I’m nothing like Jack Kinney!”
Michael stood up slowly and faced him. “Then prove it, Brian. Be a man now. Be a father. Show everyone the partner that Ron knew. The man that… that he loved.”
Brian wiped his swollen eyes with the back of his hand. “I… I can’t…”
Michael grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Yes, you can! You aren’t just anybody - you’re Brian Kinney, for fuck sake! So act like Brian Kinney and not some pathetic ghost of Brian Kinney. Because I don’t know that guy - and I don’t want to know him.”
Brian blinked as if he was waking up from a long sleep. “I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t mean to say those things about you. I know you mean well, but…”
“But nothing!” Michael said firmly. “This isn’t about me! It’s about you and your son. Because I know you’re a good father. I know how much you care about Gus. He needs you now, more than he’s ever needed you before. You have to think about him.”
Brian nodded. He brushed at his ruined Armani trousers. “I know. But I’m a fucking mess. And I reek. I can’t go downstairs like this.”
“Then pull yourself together. Take a shower. And get dressed,” said Michael. “Gus is down there. And Ron’s family is still here. And Ben. And Diane and Dorian. And Diane’s little girl. What’s her name?”
“Mia,” Brian murmured. “Her name is Mia. She’s almost three years old.”
Michael nodded. “I remember when Gus was three. And Jenny Rebecca. That’s a cute age.”
“I know.” Brian sighed. “But I promised Diane I’d only step in if she wanted me to. Mia is her daughter. She wanted a kid but she didn’t really want a husband, so… what the fuck?” Brian shrugged. “Only a few people even know I’m her father. Ron knew. And Dorian and Peter know. And Diane’s assistant, Angie. I think that’s all. Even Gus doesn’t know. At least, I don’t think he knows.”
“He’s pretty smart, Brian,” said Michael. “Maybe he’s already figured it out.”
“Maybe.” Brian stood there like he was lost. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, Michael - or even where to begin. How can I live here, Michael? What am I going to do? Everything reminds me of Ron. In the bed… I can smell him on the sheets, on the pillows. All of his clothes are in the closet. His products are in the bathroom. His office is full of his stuff - his DVD’s and his books and his papers. I… I can’t think about it. I can’t deal with it! I’m going to go fucking crazy!”
“Then think about this,” said Michael. “Leave this house, at least for a while. Leave it behind you. Take Gus away so you both can clear your heads.”
Brian looked at his oldest friend imploringly. “Where, Mikey? Take Gus where? Where are we supposed to go to forget?”
The answer was so obvious to Michael that the words came easily. “Come to Pittsburgh, Brian. Where you belong. Come home.”
By Gaedhal
Los Angeles, May 2016
“Brian?” The room was dark and still, but Michael recognized that distinctive Brian odor of sweat, sex, tobacco, and vanilla. “Brian? It’s me, Michael?”
“Who the fuck else would it be?” came a voice from the bed. “Don’t you always come tap-tap-tapping on my fucking door, even after I told you to go the fuck away?”
Michael approached the bed. “I’m not going away, so you might as well talk to me.”
Brian’s head poked up out of the tumbled sheets. His eyes were shadowed and his hair in supreme disarray. “Just fuck off, Mikey. Please, just this once, do what I say.”
“No,” Michael stated. “I’m not going away. When I called after I heard about Ron and you said that Ben and I shouldn’t come to the funeral, I knew you thought you’d have everything under control. That you wouldn’t need us to help you…”
“I don’t need anyone’s fucking help!” Brian shouted, bolting out of the bed. He was still wearing the pants that went with his Armani suit, but was shirtless and barefoot. “Especially not yours, or Ben’s, or Deb’s, or Lindsay’s, or anyone else who thinks they can come in here and fix everything! Because you can’t fix anything, Michael! You can’t fix me. And you can’t fix Ron! It’s fucking OVER! So go away. Leave me alone. And tell Diane and Dorian and whoever the fuck else is lurking outside that they can’t fix anything either. So they should leave this house NOW!”
“You want me to leave,” Michael stated. “I get that.”
“You’re a genius, Mikey,” Brian spat. “A fucking genius! My God! How you even managed a semester of fucking community college is beyond belief. If I hadn’t done all your homework senior year, you’d still be in fucking high school!”
Michael swallowed. “You’re probably right about that. I’m no genius. But you’re not so smart, either, Brian.”
“I’m smart enough to know the truth,” Brian replied. “Smart enough to know when I’m fucking defeated. And you know what? I’m not even drunk! I’m not even stoned! I’m fucking sober - and it’s the worst feeling in the fucking world!”
“I bet it is,” Michael whispered. “I bet it feels shitty.”
“Shitty doesn’t begin to cover it.” Brian began stalking around the room aimlessly. “It fucking feels like someone burned my skin off and all my insides are exposed. That’s what it feels like. I… I remember how I felt when… when Justin was in that coma.” He slumped down on the bed. “I was numb. I couldn’t feel my hands or my feet. It was like my mind was one place and my body was somewhere else and that the two would never get back together again. But this… this is something else.” He looked up at Michael and his face was haunted. “Ten fucking years! That’s what it feels like! Like ten fucking years of my life have been ripped out of my body.”
Michael stepped forward slowly. “I know. I understand.”
“You can’t possibly understand!” Brian snapped. “Everyone keeps saying that they understand. That they’re so fucking sorry. Well, they don’t understand! They can’t fucking understand! And I don’t give a fuck if they’re sorry! Sorry is meaningless! Sorry doesn’t mean shit! It… doesn’t… mean… shit…”
Brian’s voice trailed off as he put his head in his hands and sobbed. Michael’s heart was breaking, but he was afraid to approach him. Afraid Brian would lash out at him. But if he didn’t, then who would? Who could?
Michael had loved Brian Kinney since the moment he saw him walk into their eighth grade classroom, the new boy. He was younger than Michael, but he was already the tallest boy in the class. Tall and handsome and confident. Some said he was arrogant. An asshole. A fuck-up. The kind of kid who would lead you astray. But Brian was also the smartest kid in the class, whip-sharp and knowing in a way that most kids were not. Something in his eyes said, “I know things you’ve never thought of and I’ve done things you can only dream of.” From that moment on, Michael dreamed of being led astray by Brian Kinney.
But he was also afraid of Brian and always had been. Afraid of his intensity and his mercurial temper. Afraid of his hard intelligence and his cold beauty. Afraid of his overwhelming sexuality. Afraid of what he was capable of. And afraid of what he brought out in Michael.
And also afraid of something no one would ever have imagined about Brian Kinney unless they knew him to his core - his vulnerability. His neediness. A need so great that Michael had always held back, even when he wanted Brian so badly he thought he’d die. Held back because he knew he wasn’t strong enough for Brian. That he would be sucked in and lost forever inside the all-consuming entity that was Brian Kinney. He’d only known two people who he’d ever thought were strong enough to survive that white heat. One was Ron. And the other… Michael turned his mind away from the other one, blocking that thought.
But now Brian needed him more than he’d ever needed him before. He couldn’t be afraid. He couldn’t hesitate.
“I know I can never understand what you’re going through,” he began. “No one can. No one can ever know what’s inside someone else. No one can feel another person’s… grief.” Michael had to be careful. The wrong word, the wrong phrase, and he’d lose Brian. But he couldn’t lose him. Not now. “That’s yours, Brian. No one else can touch it.”
Michael waited. Brian was silent, but he was listening. He’d hadn’t closed him out - at least not yet. So he continued.
“But other people are feeling their own grief. It’s not the same as yours, but it’s just as… as important to them. Ron’s mother. His sisters. Think about what they’re feeling. And Diane loved Ron, too. She’s the one who called me. Because she loves both of you.”
“Diane.” Brian took a deep breath. “I might have figured she was the one. She’s always been a fucking busybody. And she really thinks she owns me ever since…” Brian paused. “Do you know I have a daughter, Michael? You’re not the only one.”
“No,” Michael gulped. It had been almost two years since he’d seen Jenny Rebecca. “I didn’t know.”
“Diane’s daughter, Mia. Just like Lindsay, she caught me in a moment of weakness. Why do I do these things to myself? Why the fuck? Ron encouraged her, too. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world, but I didn’t see him offering her his spunk in a cup. Son of a fucking bitch… I need a drink. Badly.”
“Have you eaten anything, Brian?” Michael put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Can I get you some water?”
“No!” Brian bellowed, jerking away. “I don’t want any fucking food. I’m not hungry. And I don’t want water. I need booze and plenty of it. As soon as I get all these people out of this fucking house - and that includes you, Mikey - I’m going to start drinking and I’m not going to stop until I fucking pass out - forever!”
“You could do that,” Michael said softly. “You could drink yourself into oblivion. Or drug yourself. You’ve done it before. I can’t stop you. No one can stop you. But I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t.”
Brian was still as a stone. “So tell me, Mikey. Why the fuck shouldn’t I?”
Michael steeled himself. “Because Gus needs you not to. He’s grieving, too, in case you hadn’t noticed. Or are you too selfish to care that your son is hurting? He’s only a kid. He’s 15. Don’t you remember yourself at 15? Because I do. I remember that you hurt so bad you tried to run away more than once. And then you succeeded. You ran away because your father failed you, Brian. He failed you because he was a drunk, selfish bastard. Does that sound familiar? Is that what you want to be to Gus? The guy who causes him more pain when he’s already in so much pain he can’t even process it? And maybe I’m not very smart. I admit that.”
Brian winced. “Michael, I…”
“No, let me finish,” he said. “You’re right. I probably wouldn’t have graduated from high school without your help. I couldn’t make it through community college, while you got a scholarship to Penn State and were the golden boy at everything you ever tried. And… and as a father I’m pretty worthless, too. I hardly ever see my daughter. Melanie sees to that and I’m too much of a wuss to fight her. But I thought you were better than that, Brian. You and Ron - you were both better than that. So don’t let Gus down. And don’t let Ron down, either. I know how much you love Gus - and how much Ron loved him. And if you have a daughter, don’t be that asshole who is just a fucking teaspoonful of come in a cup. Don’t become Jack Kinney. You’re better than that.”
“I’m not fucking Jack Kinney!” Brian jumped up so quickly he almost knocked Michael over. “I’m nothing like Jack Kinney!”
Michael stood up slowly and faced him. “Then prove it, Brian. Be a man now. Be a father. Show everyone the partner that Ron knew. The man that… that he loved.”
Brian wiped his swollen eyes with the back of his hand. “I… I can’t…”
Michael grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Yes, you can! You aren’t just anybody - you’re Brian Kinney, for fuck sake! So act like Brian Kinney and not some pathetic ghost of Brian Kinney. Because I don’t know that guy - and I don’t want to know him.”
Brian blinked as if he was waking up from a long sleep. “I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t mean to say those things about you. I know you mean well, but…”
“But nothing!” Michael said firmly. “This isn’t about me! It’s about you and your son. Because I know you’re a good father. I know how much you care about Gus. He needs you now, more than he’s ever needed you before. You have to think about him.”
Brian nodded. He brushed at his ruined Armani trousers. “I know. But I’m a fucking mess. And I reek. I can’t go downstairs like this.”
“Then pull yourself together. Take a shower. And get dressed,” said Michael. “Gus is down there. And Ron’s family is still here. And Ben. And Diane and Dorian. And Diane’s little girl. What’s her name?”
“Mia,” Brian murmured. “Her name is Mia. She’s almost three years old.”
Michael nodded. “I remember when Gus was three. And Jenny Rebecca. That’s a cute age.”
“I know.” Brian sighed. “But I promised Diane I’d only step in if she wanted me to. Mia is her daughter. She wanted a kid but she didn’t really want a husband, so… what the fuck?” Brian shrugged. “Only a few people even know I’m her father. Ron knew. And Dorian and Peter know. And Diane’s assistant, Angie. I think that’s all. Even Gus doesn’t know. At least, I don’t think he knows.”
“He’s pretty smart, Brian,” said Michael. “Maybe he’s already figured it out.”
“Maybe.” Brian stood there like he was lost. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, Michael - or even where to begin. How can I live here, Michael? What am I going to do? Everything reminds me of Ron. In the bed… I can smell him on the sheets, on the pillows. All of his clothes are in the closet. His products are in the bathroom. His office is full of his stuff - his DVD’s and his books and his papers. I… I can’t think about it. I can’t deal with it! I’m going to go fucking crazy!”
“Then think about this,” said Michael. “Leave this house, at least for a while. Leave it behind you. Take Gus away so you both can clear your heads.”
Brian looked at his oldest friend imploringly. “Where, Mikey? Take Gus where? Where are we supposed to go to forget?”
The answer was so obvious to Michael that the words came easily. “Come to Pittsburgh, Brian. Where you belong. Come home.”