Queer as Folk - the opposite of good is good intentions
Title: the opposite of good is good intentions
Prompt: “I can’t go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.” (Lewis Caroll)
Bonus? yes
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG13
Original/Fandom: Queer as Folk
Pairings (if any): Brian/Justin (implied)
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): consequences of a bashing
Summary: On prom night, you died.
A/N: written for writerverse. Certainly not the best piece I've ever written but... yeah. And it's also not beta'd.
Link:
On prom night, you died.
Not really, not technically but you might as well have. It sure doesn't make much of a difference now.
Your decay, if you want to stick to the analogy, started even earlier than that night.
It started on a staircase at Babylon with the simplest question.
That's when you began to fall apart. Bit by bit.
Dressing in your tux felt like putting on armor. Because suits meant business, and business meant control. At least, that's what you thought when you got into your car and drove to the hotel. It was supposed to be a one off, a one time deal, a favor even. It was never meant to...
It ended in a hallway at the hospital where they made you wait. You weren't family - not even friends, really - and even if you had been, you still would have been gay, and he still would have been gay, and they still would have made you wait.
You knew, right there in that plastic chair, that it was your fault. All of it. When you retraced the steps in your head, you came up with at least a handful of occasions where it was you who paved the road to here.
The biggest mistake of them all was showing up at the prom. You had good intentions, or at least you thought you had. You tried to believe that you went there because of him, because it was what he wanted, but sitting there at the hospital made you realize that you did it for you.
That's what actually killed you. It wasn't a bat or the booze or the blow.
It was knowing that it was you who put him there, his life hanging by a thread.
It should have been you.
Prompt: “I can’t go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.” (Lewis Caroll)
Bonus? yes
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG13
Original/Fandom: Queer as Folk
Pairings (if any): Brian/Justin (implied)
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): consequences of a bashing
Summary: On prom night, you died.
A/N: written for writerverse. Certainly not the best piece I've ever written but... yeah. And it's also not beta'd.
Link:
On prom night, you died.
Not really, not technically but you might as well have. It sure doesn't make much of a difference now.
Your decay, if you want to stick to the analogy, started even earlier than that night.
It started on a staircase at Babylon with the simplest question.
That's when you began to fall apart. Bit by bit.
Dressing in your tux felt like putting on armor. Because suits meant business, and business meant control. At least, that's what you thought when you got into your car and drove to the hotel. It was supposed to be a one off, a one time deal, a favor even. It was never meant to...
It ended in a hallway at the hospital where they made you wait. You weren't family - not even friends, really - and even if you had been, you still would have been gay, and he still would have been gay, and they still would have made you wait.
You knew, right there in that plastic chair, that it was your fault. All of it. When you retraced the steps in your head, you came up with at least a handful of occasions where it was you who paved the road to here.
The biggest mistake of them all was showing up at the prom. You had good intentions, or at least you thought you had. You tried to believe that you went there because of him, because it was what he wanted, but sitting there at the hospital made you realize that you did it for you.
That's what actually killed you. It wasn't a bat or the booze or the blow.
It was knowing that it was you who put him there, his life hanging by a thread.
It should have been you.