510 Gapfiller
Hi all,
Actually, I don't do gapfillers, so this is a first. I was writing something else this morning and this kept popping into my head so I figured I might as well get it out and get on with my day. Spoilers for episode 510. Brian's POV.
WORDS
by Kimberley
I stand staring through the window like I did all those nights nearly four years ago. There’s a major difference, though. Mikey isn’t tossing and turning. He’s not tortured by dreams of baseball bats and cold cement floors, memories he may never really have when awake, but that he can’t escape once sleep finally creeps in to claim him. Mikey just … lays there. So still.
So fucking still.
I’ve been standing here since I left Deb in the chapel. She had things she needed to say, things she needed whatever God is out there to hear. All I could do was hold her hand while she prayed, threatened, sobbed. She asked me if I wanted to say anything, but I couldn’t. Everything I needed to say at that moment, I needed to say to the man lying so still in that hospital bed.
I wish I’d had the guts to say them earlier but all I can do now is rehearse them in my head, hoping that I’ll still get my chance. Hoping that this isn’t how our friendship is destined to end, with the two of us on opposite sides of a sheet of sterile glass, both bound motionless by devastating injuries, his to his body, mine to my heart.
I thought we’d always be friends, Mikey. I thought you’d always love me, always be there for me, understanding what drives me to do the things I do. I wasn’t condemning your lifestyle choices. Couldn’t you see that? It wasn’t about you moving on with your life, it was about me being left behind. Not having the guts to reach out and take what I wanted. We’d traveled so far together along life’s path and when I lost my footing, when I crashed to my knees on the unforgiving trail, I blindly reached out my hand.
But you just kept walking. Getting further and further away, knowing I’d never be able to catch up. And I was scared.
So fucking scared.
I wanted to hate you for that, Mikey. I wanted to so fucking bad, but I couldn’t. You were walking toward everything you’d ever wanted in life and I could only watch you go, knowing that you’d never be mine again, admitting that you never really were, not in the way you’d once hoped.
Someone else was taking my place at your side. Walking arm in arm with you while I was left to pull myself up and try to stagger on alone.
Fuck you, Mikey.
Fuck you for saying that I needed to change, that I needed to want the same things you did to be worthy of your friendship. Fuck you for thinking that I’d take advantage of your desperation when you came to my office, for believing that our friendship meant so little to me and for not even offering me the courtesy of a fucking thank you. Fuck you for opening my eyes to the real reason Justin finally left me for good.
Fuck you for not being able to hear a single, fucking word of this.
“Brian?”
I turn watery eyes to see Ben standing beside me and frown. “What time is it?
He glances quickly at the clock hanging prominently in the hall, not bothering to point out that I had only to raise my eyes to see it myself. “10:54”
I nod.
“Do you need anything?”
How can he be so fucking considerate at a time like this? His partner… his fucking husband is lying in that bed hooked to those machines and fighting for his life. How can he ask me if I fucking need anything?
“I need him to wake up.” My voice is a hoarse whisper and I’m surprised to hear it. Surprised at the emotion it conveys and by the fact that the words took it upon themselves to escape without consulting with my brain as is standard operating procedure.
“He will.”
I look into Ben’s eyes and see how hard he’s trying to hold on to that belief. Another major difference between then and now. I never let myself believe. Oh, I hoped, even pleaded with whatever deity might exist, but I never once allowed myself the luxury of actually believing it.
But he did. He woke up and I shoved everything I’d been dying to say to him into that little corner of my heart where nothing ever gets touched, nothing ever gets too close that I can’t escape. I couldn’t offer him the words he so desperately needed to hear.
I glance in the window at Mikey. Four years is too fucking long. “I need to go.”
“You can stay,” Ben offers kindly. “Talk to him. He needs to know that you still care about him, despite what’s been happening between you.”
I stare at him for a moment. “Yeah,” I finally reply. “He does.” Not bothering to address the surprised look on his face, I turn and walk toward the exit.
As the car pulls up to the scene once again, I can still barely comprehend that it’s real. The initial chaos has been replaced by an organized effort to simultaneously put out the small fires still burning and tend to the injured still at the scene. I’m hoping he’s still here. He’d wanted to stay inside and help, but I’d practically dragged him from the building, not wanting to take a chance that there was still something lurking in the shadows, something that might finally succeed in taking him from me forever. Once outside, he’d rushed to his mother’s side and I’d been left to look for my best friend. As soon as I’d seen how badly he was injured, I knew I’d have to go to the hospital with him. Justin was fine, but Mikey needed me. It was so frustrating to learn that there was nothing I could do to help him, absolutely nothing.
But there was still something I could do for Justin. For me. Something I should have done long ago.
My breath escapes in a sigh of relief as I see him standing with a couple of paramedics, an EMT jacket dwarfing his small frame. Without conscious thought, I’m walking toward him, my eyes locked unwaveringly on my goal.
He’s moving toward me, soot mingling with the shock and concern on his face. It’s as though we’re moving in slow motion, the distance between us lessening at an agonizing pace. I want to touch him, I need to touch him.
“Is Michael going to be OK?” he asks.
“They don’t know.” My mind barely registers my response. My arms reach out of their own volition, pulling him firmly to me. Only once I’m holding him can I finally breathe.
We stand like that, clinging to one another, his need for contact as strong as mine.
“When I heard what happened, I tried to call you on your cell phone,” I tell him once we separate. It’s important to me that he knows he was my first concern. Regardless of what he might think, the fucking club doesn’t come first.
whatever else happens, by all means, keep on dancing
No, not this time. The fucking dance is over. “You didn’t answer.”
He doesn’t say anything. I can practically see the night’s events playing through his mind and he closes his eyes against the horror of it all.
I wipe the sweat and soot from my upper lip. “I was… so fucking scared,” I admit, the last word riding on a breathless laugh. Me, Brian Kinney, actually admitting to being vulnerable, not only to myself, but to the man before me. The man with the power to use that vulnerability against me, to hurt me more than any other. “All I could think was… please, don’t let anything happen to him.”
He’s still silent, his eyes finally rising to meet mine, tears building and threatening to track down his soot covered cheeks. I can only pull him to me, holding him close, my lips brushing his ear. “I love you,” I murmur. It’s like a weight is lifted from my heart, finally freeing me to say the words we both need to hear. I hear his quiet gasp as they register and I hope it’s one of pleasant surprise and not one of fear that I’m finally saying the words but for all the wrong reasons. I pull back so that I can look into his eyes and I see the myriad of emotions there. Disbelief, hope, fear, joy, shock. I don’t want him to doubt what I’ve said. I don’t want him to think that I’ll deny it later, claim that he heard wrong, that the words weren’t the ones he thought he’d heard. I look directly into his eyes and say it again, my voice strong and clear. “I love you.”
He looks overwhelmed, like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Cupping my face, he kisses me then pulls back to study my face once again, perhaps fearing that the man who’d finally said the words would be gone from his sight, disappearing into the darkness and smoke surrounding us.
I whisper it once again between his lips before claiming them in a kiss meant to melt any doubt that might still remain. I can almost feel the exact moment when he accepts them. His lips quiver against mine and his body starts to tremble. I pull him into a hug and he returns the embrace with equal fervor, standing on his toes and pressing our bodies together as though to block out the activity still churning around us.
And he does.
There are no paramedics, no firemen, no injured victims in this moment in time. It’s just the two of us, the sound of sirens and commotion completely drowned out by three little words.
End
Actually, I don't do gapfillers, so this is a first. I was writing something else this morning and this kept popping into my head so I figured I might as well get it out and get on with my day. Spoilers for episode 510. Brian's POV.
WORDS
by Kimberley
I stand staring through the window like I did all those nights nearly four years ago. There’s a major difference, though. Mikey isn’t tossing and turning. He’s not tortured by dreams of baseball bats and cold cement floors, memories he may never really have when awake, but that he can’t escape once sleep finally creeps in to claim him. Mikey just … lays there. So still.
So fucking still.
I’ve been standing here since I left Deb in the chapel. She had things she needed to say, things she needed whatever God is out there to hear. All I could do was hold her hand while she prayed, threatened, sobbed. She asked me if I wanted to say anything, but I couldn’t. Everything I needed to say at that moment, I needed to say to the man lying so still in that hospital bed.
I wish I’d had the guts to say them earlier but all I can do now is rehearse them in my head, hoping that I’ll still get my chance. Hoping that this isn’t how our friendship is destined to end, with the two of us on opposite sides of a sheet of sterile glass, both bound motionless by devastating injuries, his to his body, mine to my heart.
I thought we’d always be friends, Mikey. I thought you’d always love me, always be there for me, understanding what drives me to do the things I do. I wasn’t condemning your lifestyle choices. Couldn’t you see that? It wasn’t about you moving on with your life, it was about me being left behind. Not having the guts to reach out and take what I wanted. We’d traveled so far together along life’s path and when I lost my footing, when I crashed to my knees on the unforgiving trail, I blindly reached out my hand.
But you just kept walking. Getting further and further away, knowing I’d never be able to catch up. And I was scared.
So fucking scared.
I wanted to hate you for that, Mikey. I wanted to so fucking bad, but I couldn’t. You were walking toward everything you’d ever wanted in life and I could only watch you go, knowing that you’d never be mine again, admitting that you never really were, not in the way you’d once hoped.
Someone else was taking my place at your side. Walking arm in arm with you while I was left to pull myself up and try to stagger on alone.
Fuck you, Mikey.
Fuck you for saying that I needed to change, that I needed to want the same things you did to be worthy of your friendship. Fuck you for thinking that I’d take advantage of your desperation when you came to my office, for believing that our friendship meant so little to me and for not even offering me the courtesy of a fucking thank you. Fuck you for opening my eyes to the real reason Justin finally left me for good.
Fuck you for not being able to hear a single, fucking word of this.
“Brian?”
I turn watery eyes to see Ben standing beside me and frown. “What time is it?
He glances quickly at the clock hanging prominently in the hall, not bothering to point out that I had only to raise my eyes to see it myself. “10:54”
I nod.
“Do you need anything?”
How can he be so fucking considerate at a time like this? His partner… his fucking husband is lying in that bed hooked to those machines and fighting for his life. How can he ask me if I fucking need anything?
“I need him to wake up.” My voice is a hoarse whisper and I’m surprised to hear it. Surprised at the emotion it conveys and by the fact that the words took it upon themselves to escape without consulting with my brain as is standard operating procedure.
“He will.”
I look into Ben’s eyes and see how hard he’s trying to hold on to that belief. Another major difference between then and now. I never let myself believe. Oh, I hoped, even pleaded with whatever deity might exist, but I never once allowed myself the luxury of actually believing it.
But he did. He woke up and I shoved everything I’d been dying to say to him into that little corner of my heart where nothing ever gets touched, nothing ever gets too close that I can’t escape. I couldn’t offer him the words he so desperately needed to hear.
I glance in the window at Mikey. Four years is too fucking long. “I need to go.”
“You can stay,” Ben offers kindly. “Talk to him. He needs to know that you still care about him, despite what’s been happening between you.”
I stare at him for a moment. “Yeah,” I finally reply. “He does.” Not bothering to address the surprised look on his face, I turn and walk toward the exit.
As the car pulls up to the scene once again, I can still barely comprehend that it’s real. The initial chaos has been replaced by an organized effort to simultaneously put out the small fires still burning and tend to the injured still at the scene. I’m hoping he’s still here. He’d wanted to stay inside and help, but I’d practically dragged him from the building, not wanting to take a chance that there was still something lurking in the shadows, something that might finally succeed in taking him from me forever. Once outside, he’d rushed to his mother’s side and I’d been left to look for my best friend. As soon as I’d seen how badly he was injured, I knew I’d have to go to the hospital with him. Justin was fine, but Mikey needed me. It was so frustrating to learn that there was nothing I could do to help him, absolutely nothing.
But there was still something I could do for Justin. For me. Something I should have done long ago.
My breath escapes in a sigh of relief as I see him standing with a couple of paramedics, an EMT jacket dwarfing his small frame. Without conscious thought, I’m walking toward him, my eyes locked unwaveringly on my goal.
He’s moving toward me, soot mingling with the shock and concern on his face. It’s as though we’re moving in slow motion, the distance between us lessening at an agonizing pace. I want to touch him, I need to touch him.
“Is Michael going to be OK?” he asks.
“They don’t know.” My mind barely registers my response. My arms reach out of their own volition, pulling him firmly to me. Only once I’m holding him can I finally breathe.
We stand like that, clinging to one another, his need for contact as strong as mine.
“When I heard what happened, I tried to call you on your cell phone,” I tell him once we separate. It’s important to me that he knows he was my first concern. Regardless of what he might think, the fucking club doesn’t come first.
whatever else happens, by all means, keep on dancing
No, not this time. The fucking dance is over. “You didn’t answer.”
He doesn’t say anything. I can practically see the night’s events playing through his mind and he closes his eyes against the horror of it all.
I wipe the sweat and soot from my upper lip. “I was… so fucking scared,” I admit, the last word riding on a breathless laugh. Me, Brian Kinney, actually admitting to being vulnerable, not only to myself, but to the man before me. The man with the power to use that vulnerability against me, to hurt me more than any other. “All I could think was… please, don’t let anything happen to him.”
He’s still silent, his eyes finally rising to meet mine, tears building and threatening to track down his soot covered cheeks. I can only pull him to me, holding him close, my lips brushing his ear. “I love you,” I murmur. It’s like a weight is lifted from my heart, finally freeing me to say the words we both need to hear. I hear his quiet gasp as they register and I hope it’s one of pleasant surprise and not one of fear that I’m finally saying the words but for all the wrong reasons. I pull back so that I can look into his eyes and I see the myriad of emotions there. Disbelief, hope, fear, joy, shock. I don’t want him to doubt what I’ve said. I don’t want him to think that I’ll deny it later, claim that he heard wrong, that the words weren’t the ones he thought he’d heard. I look directly into his eyes and say it again, my voice strong and clear. “I love you.”
He looks overwhelmed, like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Cupping my face, he kisses me then pulls back to study my face once again, perhaps fearing that the man who’d finally said the words would be gone from his sight, disappearing into the darkness and smoke surrounding us.
I whisper it once again between his lips before claiming them in a kiss meant to melt any doubt that might still remain. I can almost feel the exact moment when he accepts them. His lips quiver against mine and his body starts to tremble. I pull him into a hug and he returns the embrace with equal fervor, standing on his toes and pressing our bodies together as though to block out the activity still churning around us.
And he does.
There are no paramedics, no firemen, no injured victims in this moment in time. It’s just the two of us, the sound of sirens and commotion completely drowned out by three little words.
End