THE LAMEST MOST HALF-ASSED PLAN IN THE UNIVERSE
Title: The Lamest Most Half-Assed Plan in the Universe
Written By: sonofabiscuit77
Timeline: Future
Warnings: Angst / Humour
Rating: R
Summary: "...something had to be done and as I was surrounded by total fuck-ups, it was pretty fucking obvious that I was the only person capable of doing it..." Fifteen years into the future and Brian and Justin have broken up yet again... Can the younger and slightly less dysfunctional Kinney solve their problems?
Author Notes: Many thanks and kudos once again to a great beta in bluebirdgirl for your comments and corrections!
Inspired By Icon:
The elevator rattled open and I stumbled out, keeping one hand on the wall in an attempt to keep myself upright. Opening the apartment door with barely a noise, I silently congratulated myself on my extreme stealth. I headed for the kitchen to retrieve the six-pack of water in the refrigerator. I’d need it if I wanted to be functioning well enough tomorrow to finish that fucking paper on fucking Samuel fucking Beckett, the fucker. I wedged the refrigerator door open, still trying to be quiet, and hoisted the water out, tucking it under my arm. I weaved my way out of the kitchen and into the living room…
Fuck.
Dad was lying on the sofa, completely motionless. I froze and felt the water slip from its crappy hold under my arm. Carefully, I bent over and deposited it on the floor. The room was dark but the drapes weren’t drawn and the orange and white street light from outside was casting ominous shadows over his long and still-unmoving form. Shit. I edged towards the sofa, my heart speeding up like a fucking Nascar rally and I was seriously close to a major freak out. This was reminding me far too much of all the shit that went down last year.
"Dad?" I whispered, standing like a retard in the middle of the fucking room. "Dad?" I swallowed over the words, feeling the panic rise in my chest.
I know that I wasn’t there when Dad had his heart attack last year. But Justin told me what had happened. He had been working out on his treadmill (Dad, not Justin) and went to take a shower. He had been in there too long so Justin started to get suspicious and went to check on him. He found him lying on the marble tiles, barely able to breathe and clutching the left side of his chest.
"Dad? Are you um... okay?" I whispered again trying to remember any of the fucking CPR shit I’d been shown in school.
"Course I’m fucking okay."
"Ah! Fuck!" I half jumped out my skin as he suddenly rose up out of the couch into a sitting position.
"You look fucking wasted," he commented, completely unperturbed by my near freak out or probably knowing him, getting some sort of a sadistic kick out of it. His face was covered with a red pattern where he’d been lying on one of Mom’s embroidered cushions and his eyes were all screwed up and shadowy.
"Oh my God! You fucking scared me! I thought -" I trailed off at his warning look, suddenly aware I was still standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. "Um... what are you doing here?"
"Visiting your Mom," he sneered the words out.
"Oh." I fell into the nearest armchair and began to unscrew the cap on one of the bottles, tilting it and drinking the entire thing in one long thirsty drag. When I finished and lowered the bottle, he was looking at me with one eyebrow raised.
"You obviously had a good time."
"Yeah, it was alright."
He smiled slightly, quirking one side of his mouth and leaned back into the couch.
"So - err, how was Mom’s date?"
"I don’t fucking know. She didn’t go."
"Oh shit, did he cancel on her again?" I shook my head, "She must’ve been, like, totally devastated, right?"
"Wrong. She was too busy helping to comfort my poor broken heart." He said the last bit in one of his most sarcastic voices - he has quite a lot of them.
"Oh? You and Justin have another fight?"
"Me and Justin are no longer me and Justin," he paused in this overly dramatic way. "We’re over. We broke up. He’s gone to LA. For good."
"What? No way. Why?"
"That’s none of your fucking business." He reached behind him and retrieved an empty bottle of something from under one of the couch cushions. I groaned to myself. Neither he nor Mom are supposed to drink. Mom because of the meds and Dad because, well, the whole having had a heart attack thing. Justin would be seriously fucking pissed if he knew.
"But, you guys’ll work it out right? You always do."
"Not this time." He looked away then and kinda buried himself into the couch, turning his face away from me. "Now fuck off so I can get some sleep."
****
When I came downstairs in the morning, he’d already gone. No note of course, just the empty bottles in the trash and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke. I couldn’t be bothered to think any further on Dad’s dramatic revelations and anyway I had Samuel fucking Beckett to think about so I went to class. When I got home later that day, Mom was already there, wearing her apron, her hands covered with flour like some fucking portrait of a hausfrau. This was obviously one of her domestic days.
"Hi honey! Good day at college? What did you study today?"
Jesus, I was nineteen, not nine. I just kinda grunted in return and headed into my room to download some porn from this site Jake had recommended. But I was quite surprised to see I had an email from Justin, of course he’s totally the sort of person who’d use that antiquated method of communication.
"Dear Gus,
You’ve probably heard by now about Brian and I….."
Yeah, he actually fucking typed the …. What’s it called? Ellipses? Unbelievable, but so Justin. As was that whole always-assuming-that-everyone-was-just-as-obsessed-with-the-Brian-and-Justin-show-and-their-endless-uber-dramatic-relationship-as-he-and-Dad-were shit. Seriously, I don’t think I've ever met any two people more self-obsessed or each-other-obsessed in my whole fucking life. And I've been putting up with this shit all my fucking life. No wonder I've been in therapy for so long.
I just want you to know that you are entirely not to blame for any part of our break up.
Why the fuck would I ever think I had anything to do with their break-up? He really needs to quit reading those fucking parenting manuals.
And please remember that even though your father and I are no longer together, it shouldn’t affect our relationship, the feelings I have for you have not changed."
I rolled my eyes at the underline. God, Justin was so gay.
I am still here for you any time you want to talk about anything. I may be living and working in LA for the foreseeable future but I’m always going to be there for you. You are welcome at any time, you know I always love to see you and hang out with you. I’ll miss you and I love you and your Mom with all my heart. All my love, Justin.
I rolled my eyes again at the last bit - all my heart, Jesus. But I have to admit that I was slightly sad. Apart from the endless lame-ass questions about how I was doing and how I was feeling, Justin was pretty cool in his dorky gay sorta way. More importantly, and this was the kinda introspective shit my shrink loved, he was one of the few people who’d always been a constant in my life. As long as I’d had Dad, (which was all my life, of course - dur) I’d had Justin too. So for them to be, like, utterly and completely over, well, I guess it was pretty heavy.
*****
Over the next few weeks, I barely saw Dad and Mom was seriously starting to freak out, so she’d started leaving him these incredibly irritating messages: "Brian, I’m worried about you, where are you? You shouldn’t work too hard, you know it’s not good for you. I hope you’re not drinking too much..." Blah, blah fucking blah. No fucking wonder Dad had gone AWOL. But I admit that I was kinda surprised myself. When he’d first spilled the news about him and Justin being OVER, I’d just assumed that he would be round here more often, hanging around Mom and I and driving both of us fucking batshit. That’s what he had always done in the past when Justin was out of town or they’d had one of their mini break-ups.
Anyway, I was passing down this street one day on my way back from school when I noticed him through the window of this rather shitty looking bar. I stopped and pondered the situation. This was majorly weird. Firstly, it was the middle of the afternoon and Dad’s like a completely crazy-ass workaholic. Secondly, this place was a pick-up bar - a straight pick-up bar. So what the fuck was Dad doing in a hetero pick-up bar in the middle of the afternoon? Was he trying to mend his broken heart in some half-assed attempt at going straight? Knowing Dad’s much vaunted aversion to pussy, I seriously doubted it, but I was intrigued and admittedly slightly concerned about his sanity. So, I walked in.
"Hey Dad."
He turned round slowly to take me in, looking completely unsurprised but pretty fucking wasted. "What’re you doing here?"
I shrugged, "Just passing. It’s on my route home. Saw you through the window."
"Thought you’d come in and have a drink with your old man?"
"Something like that."
His mouth quirked in this sort of bitter ironic way and he signalled to the bartender for a refill of that shitty whiskey he liked. I ordered a beer.
"So. How’s college?"
"Okay."
He nodded uninterestedly and looked away. Usually conversations between Dad and I were always lacking in actual fucking conversation, but then usually Justin was there to fill the silences with his endless blathering.
"Justin wanted me to tell you that he misses you and that you should call him," he said eventually, his voice totally flat.
"Oh? You guys still in contact then?"
"Yes. We’re still in contact. Apparently, there’s a lot to discuss when people break up." He sneered the last few words. "Things to divide up. Assets," he sorta popped his tongue over that word.
"Oh." That was surprising too. In all their previous break-ups, they’d never gotten around to the dividing shit up phase that I knew so well from my Mom’s failed marriages. Oh, except for that one time Justin moved out and bought his own place, but they’d gotten back together, like, two weeks later and ended up buying a completely new mammoth fucking apartment between them as a compromise, keeping on Justin‘s new place, and the old place they‘d both owned before. I’d lost track of how much real estate they owned between them.
He swallowed the rest of his drink and signalled for another. "So, whatcha gonna do when you graduate Sonnyboy?" Okay, so he was more than pretty fucking wasted. The only time he ever called me Sonnyboy was when he was drunk or when he was pleased with me - guess which happened most often? Plus, graduate? I was only a fucking freshman.
"I dunno." This also really wasn’t the time to tell him that I’d switched my major to Drama two months ago.
He raised his glass slowly at me, pointing with his index finger, "I want to say one word to you, just one word -" He paused, all fucking dramatic: "Plastics," and then snorted in hilarious self-amusement.
"What?"
"Plastics." He paused again, "It’s the future."
"What?"
"Jesus. Don’t you kids know anything?" he shook his head in mock disgust. "The Graduate, the movie? You seen it?"
"Don't know. Who’s in it?"
He sighed with this martyred roll of his eyes, "Forget it. Fuck."
"Is this one of those gay culture things?"
"No!" he snorted. "It’s about a kid who sleeps with an older woman. If you overlook the scene where she gets her tits out, it’s a classic movie."
We sat in silence for a while, I started to pick at the corners of the beer label, feeling awkward. I couldn’t think of anything to say. "So, you and Justin, is it, like, for real this time?"
"Yup."
"You’re not gonna ever see each other again?"
"Oh, I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Just, without the fucking," he shrugged again and looked away.
"Aren’t you - aren’t you, like, sad or something?"
"Yeah. I’m crying on the inside."
"But Dad -"
"Just leave it Gus. It’s got nothing to do with you." His gaze was steely through the alcoholic haze and I quickly shut my mouth.
"Dad," I started again after another long uncomfortable pause, "Mom’s worried about you."
"You should tell her to mind her own fucking business. And tell her to stop leaving so many fucking messages. I, unlike her, can take care of myself."
Yeah right. Both my parents were the world’s biggest fuck-ups when it came to managing on their own. But this wasn’t the time to voice that opinion so I wisely kept my mouth shut. In another weird twist, he started speaking again, kinda like I wasn‘t there. I steeled myself for one of those awful self-revelatory things:
"It was time. We’d both been fucking clinging to something…." he trailed off and I saw his fingers grip harder around his glass, "it’s for the best. Trust me. I’m just amazed it lasted this fucking long." I glanced quickly at his face. Talk about fucking awkward, his eyes were completely blank and I felt more weirded out than ever. I hastily got up to go, I so didn’t want to hear any more revelations. Dad barely noticed me leaving, he was already ordering another drink anyway.
As I turned to walk home, I thought about last year, when he was sick. On a couple of occasions, I’d been left alone with him in his private hospital room, Justin was off somewhere and Mom was busy self-medicating or weeping or something and I was supposed to keep him company. So, I would sit there in silence, staring at his unconscious face, feeling far too self-conscious and embarrassed to talk or touch this person that didn’t seem to be Dad at all. Dad was sarcastic, scary and annoying, he wasn’t this vulnerable, sick-looking stranger, but it wasn’t like I could just walk on out of there and abandon him so I just sort of kept sitting there with this phoney smile on my face. I was so fucking relieved when Justin came back and took his hand and kissed his face and spoke to him like it was totally normal and he wasn’t unconscious and he hadn’t just almost died.
******
On Sunday I had my bi-monthly call with Mel. Yeah, she schedules them, sending me these Meeting Request things which I‘m supposed to accept and keep in my electronic diary. Like I have an electronic diary. She called dead on time (of course) and I got out of bed naked to answer it. I always answered Mel's phone calls naked. It was my mini version of a rebellion. Yeah, so it's lame, but it amuses me.
"So Justin’s finally left him for good. Well good for him! About fucking time! I bet he’s fucking falling apart."
Okay, so she was right on the falling apart thing - I’d seen him in a straight bar for fuck’s sake. But I didn’t want to give her that satisfaction as her happy tone of voice was grating on my hangover-from-hell, so I didn’t say anything. Instead, I did my usual trick of asking about that ugly midget freakazoid I’m supposed to call a sister. So, I got a long gushing reply about how fucking wonderful she was which I cut off with my usual question:
"She dating yet?"
Mel then went on about how she was far too busy with the school elections to think about such things and I browsed some porn sites while listening to her get onto her habitual guilt-trip part of the phone call, "You could do just as well as JR, Gus baby if you applied yourself. I know you could. You always were such a smart boy and sometimes I just feel so guilty - I know that if Lindsey and I had stayed together things would’ve been different and you certainly wouldn‘t have gotten yourself kicked out of fucking school….." I let her go on as I watched this guy shove what looked like a kumquat up this ugly girl’s ass. When Mel finally finished, I hung up and started jerking off.
*****
About two days later, I think it was a Tuesday, I skipped my Modern 17th Central European Drama: Brecht to Handke class, (believe me, no fucking loss), and made my way to Dad and Justin’s place, though I guess it was now technically just Dad’s place. He was at work, so I rode the elevator on up to their penthouse, let myself in and made myself at home by raiding his stash (which he’s also totally not supposed to use) and surfing through the numerous adult channels he subscribed to. I was only there for an hour or something, getting happily mellow when I heard the whir of the elevator and froze. Shit! He was supposed to be at work. Quickly, I turned off the TV and dived into one of the spare bedrooms, hoping he wouldn’t notice the really obvious smell of marijuana. Luckily for me, he was engrossed in some intense conversation when he drama-queened his way into the room.
"What? Why the fuck not?"
"..."
"You’re full of shit Sunshine, you know that?"
Ohhhhh, he was talking to Justin. I concentrated hard on listening to his side of the conversation, not too difficult as Dad’s voice was really fucking loud. I heard the clink of glass and I knew he was getting himself a drink.
"That’s bullshit and you know it. It’s for relaxing. Jesus! I’m not a fucking alcoholic!" I peered through the half opened bedroom door. He was standing in the middle of the room, coat still on, briefcase thrown dramatically to the floor, phone in one hand, bottle of whiskey in the other. I would’ve laughed out loud at the irony if he hadn’t been standing right there with his murderous look of death face.
"I am not."
"..."
"I’m not drinking right now."
He was such a fucking liar. I shifted uncomfortably on my spot on the floor and I couldn’t hear the next few things Dad was saying because his voice had gotten low all of a sudden, but then I heard him:
"Come home Justin."
"..."
"Cause I miss you."
Fuck. He sounded so lost and so un-Dad-like, he was almost pleading. I scrunched up my face, I so didn’t want to listen to this.
"It’ll be different. I promise."
"..."
"No. I will. I will take care of myself. I promise. It’s just…. It’s fucking weird without you. It fucking sucks."
"..."
I was holding my breath by now. His voice had almost broken on that last bit. I slid on my ass away from the door and further into the bedroom so that I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. I stayed hunched up on the floor for another couple of minutes when I heard this huge-ass roar:
"Gus! Get your ass out here now!"
Shit.
I got to my feet and walked out the bedroom with a wide shit-eating grin on my face. Dad had his back to me and was hanging his coat up in one of his many closets with his usual painstaking anal rententiveness. "You steal my stash again, you’re fucking dead, okay?"
Double shit.
He turned around and glared at me, expression deadly serious. I kinda nodded and looked away. "Okay. And now you can tell me why I should continue bankrolling your useless drop-out ass now you’ve taken up fucking -" he screwed his mouth up into a shudder of distaste, "Drama?"
Double double shit.
*****
After I escaped from Dad, I decided to walk the few blocks back home. Mom would totally freak out if she knew, but I’d just pretend I got a cab anyway and then maybe hit her up for the fare so that would be all peachy for everybody. As I walked back I did some serious thinking, creating a list in my head of why Dad and Justin had to get back together and why Justin had to come back:
1. Dad was fucking miserable and Dad being miserable meant everyone around him was feeling the benefit of his fouler than usual (if that was possible) mood, particularly me - evidence being the massive reaming out session I’d just been subjected to.
2. Dad was going to get sick again. Which, by the rate he was drinking, smoking and overworking was going to happen sooner rather than later. And this time, with no Justin, it would be me and Mom dealing with all that shit, and what a fucking useless tag team we would make.
3. Dad missed Justin. He’d said so on the phone and in spite of the fact he was a complete asshole and habitually treated his socks with more love and respect than he did me, he was my Dad and I did have some feelings of affection for him. After all, as he was always reminding me, it was thanks to him that I was tall, hot, well-hung and not a complete moron.
4. Mom missed Justin. She had no one with whom to share hilarious and sob-ridden stories about her disastrous love life. Evidence being: her attempt this morning to engage me in conversation about this guy she’d met at a new Art-Date thing… before I’d had breakfast.
5. I missed Justin.
So, something had to be done and as I was surrounded by total fuck-ups, it was pretty fucking obvious that I was the only person capable of doing it.
*****
The Plan was simple. I would fly to LA, land on Justin’s doorstop and use my considerable wit and charm to convince him to come back to New York and keep Dad from going even more insane. Failing the wit and charm, I would use the tried and tested power of Emotional Blackmail which I had frequently deployed on Justin to great effect in the past.
First of all, I had to get to LA. Only, I was completely broke. Unfortunately this was now standing between me and Stage One of The Plan. Luckily, I was nothing if not resourceful when it came to getting money. My most tried and tested formula being the borrow-one-of-Dad’s-credit-cards-and-buy-myself-a-ticket formula. Unfortunately the last time I’d attempted to do just that in order to fly to Hawaii for a pre college party weekend, I’d run up against several new security barriers thanks to our Federal Government’s War on Fraud. So that method was probably not open to me anymore.
Another method I’d always used to great effect in the past was to help myself to Mom’s plentiful supply of legal prescription drugs and Dad’s plentiful supply of illegal non-prescription drugs and then proceed to sell them to the gullible idiots at school for a great profit. Unfortunately it was this particular moneymaking gambit that had gotten me kicked out of my old high school two years ago, so naturally, I was reluctant to go down that road again. Plus, I’d kinda promised Dad, Justin, Mom and Mel to never do it again. Then it dawned on me in one of those lame stereotypical eureka moments that all I needed to do was to ask Justin.
I composed an emotional ultra-serious email to Justin, telling him how Mom was driving me crazy and Dad was getting on my case and that I just needed a fucking break from all of them and all the shit going down at college and I really wanted to see him, so please, because I was totally broke, could he send me an e-ticket or something so I could fly to LA and spend some time with him?
Naturally Justin came through just as I knew he would and when I logged on the following evening, I had a nice little ticket waiting for me, all bought and paid for, though I was slightly peeved to notice he’d only stumped up for Club Class rather than First Class. Still, it meant I could now move into Phase Two.
Part 2
The first thing Gus said to me as I opened to door to him was: "You look like shit." Followed by: "What’s wrong with your hair?"
What’s that saying about the apple not falling far from the tree? In Gus' case, the apple’s still on the fucking tree.
"Oh? Yeah, I got it cut," I shrugged and he pushed past me still staring at my hair.
"It looks fucking awful."
"Yeah, well, I just let the guy do what he wanted to do," I went to the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out two beers, "you want one?" He nodded and took it.
He took a long pull on his beer and continued staring at me, "Dad looks like shit too. He’s, like, lost tons of weight and he’s gotten even more grey hair."
I didn’t really want to comment on that one, so I nodded back at him and asked him if he wanted to take a look around.
Gus was impressed, or at least that’s what his various exclamations of "cool" and "sweet" seemed to convey. After we did a quick tour of the place, I took him outside onto the terrace which overlooked the ocean.
"This is fucking amazing," he told me, sprawling his long legs over one of the lounge chairs and taking another pull on his beer. I smiled and sat down on the other chair, "Get me another beer, will you Justin?"
True to form as ever. I bit back a retort about his last servants and what they died of and got to my feet, I was still at the stage of being happy to see him so I headed for the kitchen to fulfil his request.
Now, I know Gus and I knew the way his devious teenage mind worked. He was obviously planning something. His email had surprised me with the level of vitriol and near despair but then Gus knew exactly what notes to hit when he wanted to play people. I’d seen him do it so many times with both Linds and Brian, though God, I’d never tell Brian that. He was probably here in some sort of capacity to try and get Brian and I back together, I just couldn’t figure out quite why he would ever care enough, he wasn’t the most selfless of people and the fact that he was actually bothering was quite touching.
"God, it’s so good to be here," he grinned at me as I returned to the terrace with the beer.
"It’s great to see you. I’ve missed you."
He nodded, trying not to grimace too obviously. Gus was very much like any normal teenaged boy (or Brian) in that he loathed any discussion about feelings. We both turned then and watched some scantily clad people stroll past below us on the beach. I loved this balcony and had spent far too much time here since I’d arrived in California, brooding, smoking, watching the hot bodies pass by below, but mainly just trying not to think about Brian. Gus being here would helpfully stop my stupid brain from its infuriating Brian-obsession, but then again, spending time with the object of your obsession’s kid was probably not the best way to move on. I reached for my pack of cigarettes and palming one out, lit it and exhaled deeply.
"You’re smoking."
Gus had turned round to dart me an accusatory look. I guess years of non-smoking and lecturing Brian on that very subject might look strange to him.
"Yeah, sorry. You don’t mind do you?"
"Only if you let me have one."
Well, I couldn’t really refuse the kid without looking like a complete hypocrite, so I threw him the pack, "I suppose I’m not in a position to condemn you."
"Yeah, you say that but if it were Dad, he would totally ream me out."
I had to laugh, he was so right, "Yeah, he would."
"He’s been smoking loads, you know?" I froze momentarily, not wanting to hear this, "And drinking."
This was definitely another conversation track I didn’t want to continue down so I got to my feet, "D’you want to go out?"
*****
I took him to this place a couple of blocks away from the apartment which I’d visited a few times already. It’s really expensive but it’s private and it’s not like I couldn’t afford it.
"Order whatever you like," I told him as we took our places in one of the more secluded corners of the restaurant. The waiter arrived then and Gus pointed to one of the most expensive champagne cocktails on the menu.
"Champagne cocktail huh? You sure you’re not queer?"
He shrugged and handed the menu to the waiter who was openly cruising him, glancing between us with this annoyingly knowing smirk.
"He probably thinks I’m paying for your services," I commented after the guy had gone.
"Ugh, oh God, that‘s so gross!" I had to laugh out loud at his disgust.
"You could clean up in one of the clubs round here," I told him, "it’s what I used to do when I was your age and Brian wasn’t around. I’d get all these old guys to buy me drinks all night and sometimes if they were really lucky and not completely repulsive, I’d let them blow me in the backroom. As a favour to them of course." I rounded the story off with a small smirk.
Gus looked at me and shook his head with a mocking smile, "You were baaad Justin."
"Oh yeah, I was baaad." We shared a quick grin.
After about two courses and six rounds of drinks, I was picking at the remains of my sea bass, feeling more relaxed than I had in ages and completely unprepared for the interrogation:
"So why’d you and Dad break up?"
"Do we have to talk about this?" I should’ve known he wouldn’t drop the subject, he definitely got his tenacity from his mother.
"I want to know. I don‘t get why you‘d leave him after all this time. I always thought you and Dad were, like, infinite."
"Nothing’s infinite Gus."
"No. I know that. But what with Mom and all her relationship shit, you and Dad, were, like always there, together, like something I could rely on -" he trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable and I could feel a nasty sensation of something very close to guilt building in me. Me and Brian were me and Brian and sometimes we got so wrapped up in me and Brian, in each other, in our relationship, in our very insular and very intense little world of two that we forgot that there were other people close to us, namely Gus and Linds who were directly impacted by our fucked-up and dysfunctional behaviour.
"Look, I’m sorry about that, but you know you can always rely on me, I’ll always be there for you."
"Yeah, but what about Dad?"
"What about him?"
"He’s totally lost without you, you know that. And I’m really fucking worried he’s going to get sick again."
I sighed and looked away from him, staring at the dark exotic tops of the palm trees casting black shadows against the frosted glass windows, "I know. I know that. I’ve told him fuck knows how many times to stop smoking, to stop working so fucking hard, to stop drinking and he ignores me. Every. Single. Fucking. Time. I just - can’t take it anymore. If he wants to drink himself into an early grave then he can go ahead and do it, only I can’t be there to watch him."
"But I have to be there. I don’t get to just abandon him like you have, we’re, like, fucking related."
"I haven’t abandoned him Gus."
"Yeah, you have."
"No. It’s Brian that’s abandoned us - our relationship." I know I sounded corny but he needed to understand this. You don’t spend your entire adult life with one person, love them more then anything in the entire world and then just leave them on a whim. "He knows how much I love him and how much you and Linds love him and count on him and yet he still insists on treating his body like shit, on not listening to his doctors - but - it‘s like he has to fucking prove something and that matters more to him than you or I do." I paused for a moment and skewered the head of my sea bass with the silver fish-knife, "And it makes me so fucking angry."
Gus didn’t say anything, I raised my head slightly and watched him taking a few awkward sips of his champagne cocktail. I sighed and ran my hand over my much regretted haircut.
"But Dad wants you back. I know he does. And you still love him so that’s all that matters, right?"
I almost wanted to laugh at those words, "Yeah, that’s what I used to think too."
*****
The next day I was woken up by a distant hammering sound on the door and rolled over, covering my thumping head with my pillow. Of course the banging didn’t stop. I groaned, sighed and heaved my sleep deadened body out of bed. There was only one person who could be that annoying.
"Where is he?"
Yeah, nice to see you too, oh Love Of My Life.
"Where is the little shit?"
I held my head and groaned. "Will you stop fucking shouting?"
"Why’d you buy him a fucking ticket? What the fuck did you think you were doing?"
"I thought you knew, he said he’d told you and Linds!" Fucking Gus. I should’ve known.
"Well he fucking played you Sunshine!"
Oh God, I so wasn’t feeling up to this. I let the rest of the tirade wash over me and pulled open the fridge door reaching for a bottle of water. I was almost tempted to pour the whole lot of it over my head just to see his face, but I was able to restrain myself and sipped at it instead.
"You could’ve just called and asked if he was here," I managed to interject when he finally shut up. "You didn’t have to come all the way out here."
He didn’t say anything, just glared at me. Gus was right about him looking like shit, it seemed like he hadn't slept properly ever since I'd left and knowing him he probably hadn’t.
"Hey Dad!" Gus’s breezy voice called out as he emerged from his room looking well-rested and wearing a wide shit-eating grin, "What’re you doing here?"
"Coming after you, you little shit!" Brian turned one of his most withering stares on his blasé offspring. "What the fuck else would I be doing here?"
Gus shrugged coolly, "I don’t know. Maybe you came for the weather?" I swallowed back a snigger as Brian continued to stare at Gus, narrowing his eyes even further if that was possible.
"The weather! Do you realise how fucking hysterical your mother is? Why the fuck didn’t you tell her where you were going?"
"I did tell her, I left her a note," he shrugged and reached to take the water bottle out of my hand. I just let him.
"Well she didn’t fucking get it!"
"Well it’s not my fucking fault," he retorted walking away from us and leaning, the picture of nonchalance, against the breakfast bar. "How did you know I’d come here?"
"I had one of the guys from IT break into your computer," Brian returned with a self-satisfied smirk, "and we’ll be talking about the shit I found on it later."
"You did what?" I couldn’t fucking believe what had just come out of Brian's mouth. Gus’ nonchalance immediately faded at those words, his mouth working into an intensely panicked ‘oh’. "How dare you invade his privacy like that?"
"It’s got nothing to do with you. Stay out of it," Brian turned back towards me.
"Bullshit it’s got nothing to do with me! I invited Gus. I sent him the ticket."
"Yeah, cause you’re an idiot."
"Oh! I’m an idiot? That’s fucking rich coming from you!"
After screaming at Brian for about five minutes and him giving as good as he got, I looked around and noticed with surprise that Gus had left.
"Where the fuck’s he gone now?" Brian frowned.
"Would you want to stick around and listen to us fight?"
"I don‘t know, I quite enjoyed it," he shrugged and quirked his lip slightly at me. I huffed out a sigh and turned to rest my palms on the edge of the sink, staring at the rivulets of water running against the shiny metal surface.
I had my back to him and I didn’t see him approach, though I could feel him come closer, standing directly behind me, I could feel the hairs on my neck rising, "You look like shit."
I twisted so I was leaning back against the sink, raising my head to look into his eyes, "So do you."
"Your haircut’s for shit. What were you thinking?"
I raised a tentative hand to my head, running it over the offending hair, "I don’t know. I was kinda in a weird place. It’s your fault." I let my hand fall to my side, now really aware of how close we were standing and how much I wanted to touch him.
He smiled slightly and looked away, an almost embarrassed expression shifting over his face, "I missed you." He raised his hand and caressed the back of my head, pulling me against his chest, resting his chin on top of my head. I felt him breathe in and out against my skin, almost inhaling my scent. A sudden feeling of ridiculous euphoria was overwhelming me and I pressed my face further against his chest, exhaling. I felt his kiss against my neck first and a shiver gathered at the edge of my spine. "No, wait." I pulled away annoyed at myself and my fucking non-functioning willpower, but then again, when had I ever had willpower when it came to him?
He was ignoring my half-assed protests and instead pressed me back against the sink, pressing more kisses into my neck, the side of my face, my throat, "Justin? Shut the fuck up."
*****
He walked me into the bedroom, or rather we sort of half-stumbled, half-walked into the bedroom, legs knocking untidily against each other, hands pawing clumsily at jackets, shirts, pants, underwear, Brian’s arms were tight around me the whole time as we finally tumbled onto the bed, the springs sinking under our joint entwined weight. On the bed he crawled all over me, kissing, licking, biting at my face, my neck, my shoulders as I gripped and scratched at him. Then he stopped, pausing and leaning over me, stared directly into my face for a tiny overwhelming moment before he was kissing me properly, deep and hot and so, so familiar. I broke away from him for a moment, my lips sore and red, "The door - we should close the door."
"Fuck the door," he groaned and I could feel him grinding himself against me, his dick hard against my hip.
"No, wait, Gus might come back," I pulled away from him and made to get off the bed, his arm still wrapped around my waist not letting me go.
"He’s seen us before. Justin -"
"I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that," I rolled my eyes and pushed his arm away, climbing off the bed. I ran to shut the door, ramming the bolt home and God didn‘t that sound appealing? I practically fucking jumped back on the bed in my eagerness to get back to him. He was looking at me with an indulgent smile, reaching out a hand to run it over my body, down my chest, over my stomach, lower and lower with an absorbed expression of awe and love and then he was touching my dick, caressing my balls. I groaned in appreciation and watched his face closely, staring at his half-closed eyes, dark with a mixture of no sleep and lust, the lines around them more pronounced, his skin dryer and his lips thinner, but all so, so perfect. Looking at him now and feeling his hands all over me and him so achingly close, I couldn’t remember why I had left and why I had tortured myself for the past Brian-less weeks. All I could think about was wanting him, needing him, all over me, in me, on me, any way, I didn’t care, I just wanted him. I crept closer to him, draping both my arms over his shoulders and whispering directly into his ear, "Brian."
******
The next day to Gus’s intense disgust, we barely left the apartment. He had disappeared by the time hunger drove me out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
"Little fucker took $300 from my fucking wallet," bitched Brian as he slid naked onto one of the stools by the breakfast bar.
"Well, he has expensive tastes," I turned and grinned at him, he was in the process of lighting a cigarette, I darted my eyes to it and frowned.
"Last one," he looked at my disbelieving face, raising one eyebrow, "promise."
"Hmmm, believe that when I see it." I went back to poaching the eggs, sliding them carefully out of the pan next to the rye toast and spinach, I picked it up and placed it fait accompli style in front of Brian.
"I’m not eating that."
"Oh, why?"
"Eggs, Sunshine. Cholesterol." He looked so fucking pleased with himself for thinking of that.
"That’s bullshit," I told him. "That shit about eggs being full of bad cholesterol is just a myth. They’re full of good cholesterol and important nutrients. So, eat it." I leaned over and pulled the cigarette out his fingers, shoving the plate of food towards him. I turned to throw the cigarette into the trash, not before taking a small crafty drag.
"I saw that."
I turned and shrugged, "Yeah, well maybe I’ll take it up seeing as you’re now quitting."
"You wouldn’t."
"You know I so would. Now eat your fucking breakfast."
"Jesus, I forgot what a nag you are." He sighed like the true martyr he was and reluctantly began to jab at the eggs with his fork.
"Yeah, but you can’t live without me." I slid onto the stool in front of him with my widest smile. "You said so last night."
"I plead temporary insanity due to a distinct lack of getting laid."
"It was after we fucked."
He looked up and scowled at me, I just returned the scowl with my own beatific smile.
"So when will you be done here?"
"What?" I stood up again and turned back to the stove to check on my eggs.
"When are you getting your ass back to New York?" He spoke the words slowly as if talking to a retarded person.
"I don’t know. I have a commission to work on here."
"Fuck it."
"I can't just fuck it Brian, it's not professional." I knew I was avoiding the question, but the truth was I still wasn’t sure how things were between us. What was the fucking point of saying all that stuff and leaving for a point if I just gave in and came back? Nothing would ever change. "Anyway, I’m still not sure if I want to come back."
"Bullshit."
"No. It’s not bullshit. All that stuff I said about you taking care of yourself, I was totally fucking serious. Any decision I make about coming back is wholly contingent on you promising to look after yourself and particularly to stop fucking drinking."
"So, what? This is an ultimatum?"
"No. This is gonna save your fucking life you stupid asshole!" I gritted my teeth and slid my eggs onto a plate, slamming them down onto the counter beside him. I was pleased to notice him flinch slightly. Good.
He sighed and abandoning the eggs for a moment, ran one hand over his hair. His face looked suddenly tired and for once he looked his actual age, "Look. Listen to me. Say I do? Say I do everything you want and quit smoking and quit drinking and scale back my hours at work. It won’t make any fucking difference, I know I’m going to die in the next few years anyway."
I froze at those words and stared down at my eggs, the yolks had broken and were running fluorescent yellow over the plate, "No you’re not," I said softly.
"You don’t know that. Fuck, I’ve had cancer - twice, I’ve got one fucking ball, I’ve got a barely functioning heart, my body‘s falling apart. I always knew I‘d never live a long life Sunshine, people like me aren‘t meant to."
"Bullshit. That’s bullshit. It’s an excuse Brian. You’re not going to die for a long, long time, not if I’ve got anything to do with it," I felt my voice gaining force.
"Justin -"
"Jesus, will you fucking shut up for a moment? You’re still frightened about what happened last year, I know you and I know how your mind works. You’re scared because you know you’re not invincible. It’s just like what happened with the cancer, only this time you’re even more freaked out because you’re not thirty-two, you’re forty-eight," he actually gave a full body shudder at the mention of his age, "But I’m not going to let you get away with it. I’ll tie you to the fucking bed if necessary."
He turned a small sly smile to me, "Promise?"
I smiled weakly, "Promise. But you’ve got to help me, I can’t do it all on my own." I felt my breath catch in my throat and moved around to the other side of the counter, passing one arm around him, pulling him back against my own body, feeling his realness, his warmth. I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of his bare skin, letting the dampness of my eyes fade into his skin, "God Brian, just - just, please -"
He twisted slightly on his stool, turning to wrap both arms around me, holding me tightly, "Okay," he said it softly. "Whatever you want." He pulled his head back and looked into my eyes, tracing one finger along the line of my jaw, "But please just come home."
*****
Epilogue
Unfortunately, my new flight arrangements meant I had to sit next to Dad all the way back to New York. At least we were in First Class which didn’t stop Dad from bitching about absolutely everything all the way back. God, he was so embarrassing.
"So, when’s Justin coming back?"
I tried to drop it subtly into the conversation as Dad was scanning through his messages on that tiny watch hologram thing he wore.
"What?"
"Justin. When’s he coming back to New York?"
"Couple of weeks," he answered distractedly.
"Oh right. So that means that you two are, like, a couple again?"
"We’re not a fucking couple Gus."
I rolled my eyes, he was so predictable, "Yeah, yeah, you’re not a fucking couple, whatever, just let me know if my plan worked or failed will you?"
"Your plan?"
"Yeah, my secret plan. I go to LA, you panic, queen out and follow me. You see Justin, can’t resist each other and voila back together again."
He laughed out loud at that, like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard, "That was your plan? Sounds like a contender for The Lamest Most Half-Assed Plan in the Universe to me Sonnyboy."
"Shut up! It worked, didn’t it? You and Justin are all happy-happy fuck-fuck again, aren’t you?"
He looked away, still sniggering to himself, the big freak. For a middle aged guy, he could be so fucking immature.
"So, what do I get as a reward for my hard work?" I demanded. That stopped him sniggering.
"You’re fucking kidding me right?"
"Nuh-huh."
He sighed dramatically and went back to his messages, "I’ll think it over."
He scrolled through a few messages then lifted his head again, glancing at me with a slight frown, "Out of interest, say I do believe you had some sort of "plan", why the fuck would you care about me and Justin and our happiness? And don’t tell me it’s because you love your old man so fucking much because I know that’s not true."
I shrugged, "Well, you’re alright, I guess, when Justin’s around. When he’s not, like these past few weeks, you’re just fucking impossible, so it was mainly for my own benefit."
"I’m not that bad."
"Oh you so are. Plus, without Justin, I was kinda worried about your sanity and your health and so was Mom."
"My health? Jesus, have the three of you been comparing notes?"
"No. But he told me that was why he left you and I kinda think he was right. We don’t want you to die so you’ve gotta get your shit together and stop drinking and smoking and working so fucking hard." I swallowed, feeling my throat contract slightly, "If you die Dad then I‘m just left with Mom and she - well, you know what she‘s like, she‘d be even more of a mess and probably end up in another dead end relationship and I don’t know if I could cope with all that and other life shit on my own, plus, you know, I might miss you."
There. I've finally fucking said it. I felt weird afterwards, almost like I wanted to fucking burst into tears or some such shit. If I ever decide to tell my shrink about this, she'll have a fucking orgasm.
Dad was looking at me with an unfamiliar softness in his expression, kinda like he was weirdly proud of me which was majorly freaky in itself. The only times I remember him looking like that were when he’d read a rave review of one of Justin’s shows or on the extremely rare occasions I’d gotten good grades or high school junior year when I’d captained the soccer team to our award-winning unbeaten season (before they’d kicked me out for the drug dealing thing).
"You know you’ll always have Justin too," he told me.
I nodded, willing the fucking tears to not spill from my eyes. I never fucking cried.
"And, I know I can be a selfish prick -"
I nodded in agreement. He was definitely right on that one.
"But I don’t really want to die myself just yet, so I guess I might consider being a bit more choosy with some of the shit that I put in my body," he smiled wryly at that as if it was like majorly amusing. "And just between you and me, I don’t know if I could put up with up another of Justin’s queen-outs."
He looked at me, smiling slightly and I smiled back at him, feeling this vague sensation of a shared conspiracy. He turned back to checking his messages and I turned my head away from him, closing my eyes, I was pretty fucking exhausted, being this altruistic was wearying. Plus I‘d been so aware of the fact Dad and Justin were having yet more reunion sex last night I‘d worn my Earpod until the battery died and gotten, like, zero sleep.
"So, how about you tell me where you got some of that hardcore shit you had on your hard drive?"
Fuck.
"I’ve looked all over but I’ve never managed to find anything quite that fucked-up."
Oh God. I was gonna be in therapy for years.
Written By: sonofabiscuit77
Timeline: Future
Warnings: Angst / Humour
Rating: R
Summary: "...something had to be done and as I was surrounded by total fuck-ups, it was pretty fucking obvious that I was the only person capable of doing it..." Fifteen years into the future and Brian and Justin have broken up yet again... Can the younger and slightly less dysfunctional Kinney solve their problems?
Author Notes: Many thanks and kudos once again to a great beta in bluebirdgirl for your comments and corrections!
Inspired By Icon:
The elevator rattled open and I stumbled out, keeping one hand on the wall in an attempt to keep myself upright. Opening the apartment door with barely a noise, I silently congratulated myself on my extreme stealth. I headed for the kitchen to retrieve the six-pack of water in the refrigerator. I’d need it if I wanted to be functioning well enough tomorrow to finish that fucking paper on fucking Samuel fucking Beckett, the fucker. I wedged the refrigerator door open, still trying to be quiet, and hoisted the water out, tucking it under my arm. I weaved my way out of the kitchen and into the living room…
Fuck.
Dad was lying on the sofa, completely motionless. I froze and felt the water slip from its crappy hold under my arm. Carefully, I bent over and deposited it on the floor. The room was dark but the drapes weren’t drawn and the orange and white street light from outside was casting ominous shadows over his long and still-unmoving form. Shit. I edged towards the sofa, my heart speeding up like a fucking Nascar rally and I was seriously close to a major freak out. This was reminding me far too much of all the shit that went down last year.
"Dad?" I whispered, standing like a retard in the middle of the fucking room. "Dad?" I swallowed over the words, feeling the panic rise in my chest.
I know that I wasn’t there when Dad had his heart attack last year. But Justin told me what had happened. He had been working out on his treadmill (Dad, not Justin) and went to take a shower. He had been in there too long so Justin started to get suspicious and went to check on him. He found him lying on the marble tiles, barely able to breathe and clutching the left side of his chest.
"Dad? Are you um... okay?" I whispered again trying to remember any of the fucking CPR shit I’d been shown in school.
"Course I’m fucking okay."
"Ah! Fuck!" I half jumped out my skin as he suddenly rose up out of the couch into a sitting position.
"You look fucking wasted," he commented, completely unperturbed by my near freak out or probably knowing him, getting some sort of a sadistic kick out of it. His face was covered with a red pattern where he’d been lying on one of Mom’s embroidered cushions and his eyes were all screwed up and shadowy.
"Oh my God! You fucking scared me! I thought -" I trailed off at his warning look, suddenly aware I was still standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. "Um... what are you doing here?"
"Visiting your Mom," he sneered the words out.
"Oh." I fell into the nearest armchair and began to unscrew the cap on one of the bottles, tilting it and drinking the entire thing in one long thirsty drag. When I finished and lowered the bottle, he was looking at me with one eyebrow raised.
"You obviously had a good time."
"Yeah, it was alright."
He smiled slightly, quirking one side of his mouth and leaned back into the couch.
"So - err, how was Mom’s date?"
"I don’t fucking know. She didn’t go."
"Oh shit, did he cancel on her again?" I shook my head, "She must’ve been, like, totally devastated, right?"
"Wrong. She was too busy helping to comfort my poor broken heart." He said the last bit in one of his most sarcastic voices - he has quite a lot of them.
"Oh? You and Justin have another fight?"
"Me and Justin are no longer me and Justin," he paused in this overly dramatic way. "We’re over. We broke up. He’s gone to LA. For good."
"What? No way. Why?"
"That’s none of your fucking business." He reached behind him and retrieved an empty bottle of something from under one of the couch cushions. I groaned to myself. Neither he nor Mom are supposed to drink. Mom because of the meds and Dad because, well, the whole having had a heart attack thing. Justin would be seriously fucking pissed if he knew.
"But, you guys’ll work it out right? You always do."
"Not this time." He looked away then and kinda buried himself into the couch, turning his face away from me. "Now fuck off so I can get some sleep."
****
When I came downstairs in the morning, he’d already gone. No note of course, just the empty bottles in the trash and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke. I couldn’t be bothered to think any further on Dad’s dramatic revelations and anyway I had Samuel fucking Beckett to think about so I went to class. When I got home later that day, Mom was already there, wearing her apron, her hands covered with flour like some fucking portrait of a hausfrau. This was obviously one of her domestic days.
"Hi honey! Good day at college? What did you study today?"
Jesus, I was nineteen, not nine. I just kinda grunted in return and headed into my room to download some porn from this site Jake had recommended. But I was quite surprised to see I had an email from Justin, of course he’s totally the sort of person who’d use that antiquated method of communication.
"Dear Gus,
You’ve probably heard by now about Brian and I….."
Yeah, he actually fucking typed the …. What’s it called? Ellipses? Unbelievable, but so Justin. As was that whole always-assuming-that-everyone-was-just-as-obsessed-with-the-Brian-and-Justin-show-and-their-endless-uber-dramatic-relationship-as-he-and-Dad-were shit. Seriously, I don’t think I've ever met any two people more self-obsessed or each-other-obsessed in my whole fucking life. And I've been putting up with this shit all my fucking life. No wonder I've been in therapy for so long.
I just want you to know that you are entirely not to blame for any part of our break up.
Why the fuck would I ever think I had anything to do with their break-up? He really needs to quit reading those fucking parenting manuals.
And please remember that even though your father and I are no longer together, it shouldn’t affect our relationship, the feelings I have for you have not changed."
I rolled my eyes at the underline. God, Justin was so gay.
I am still here for you any time you want to talk about anything. I may be living and working in LA for the foreseeable future but I’m always going to be there for you. You are welcome at any time, you know I always love to see you and hang out with you. I’ll miss you and I love you and your Mom with all my heart. All my love, Justin.
I rolled my eyes again at the last bit - all my heart, Jesus. But I have to admit that I was slightly sad. Apart from the endless lame-ass questions about how I was doing and how I was feeling, Justin was pretty cool in his dorky gay sorta way. More importantly, and this was the kinda introspective shit my shrink loved, he was one of the few people who’d always been a constant in my life. As long as I’d had Dad, (which was all my life, of course - dur) I’d had Justin too. So for them to be, like, utterly and completely over, well, I guess it was pretty heavy.
*****
Over the next few weeks, I barely saw Dad and Mom was seriously starting to freak out, so she’d started leaving him these incredibly irritating messages: "Brian, I’m worried about you, where are you? You shouldn’t work too hard, you know it’s not good for you. I hope you’re not drinking too much..." Blah, blah fucking blah. No fucking wonder Dad had gone AWOL. But I admit that I was kinda surprised myself. When he’d first spilled the news about him and Justin being OVER, I’d just assumed that he would be round here more often, hanging around Mom and I and driving both of us fucking batshit. That’s what he had always done in the past when Justin was out of town or they’d had one of their mini break-ups.
Anyway, I was passing down this street one day on my way back from school when I noticed him through the window of this rather shitty looking bar. I stopped and pondered the situation. This was majorly weird. Firstly, it was the middle of the afternoon and Dad’s like a completely crazy-ass workaholic. Secondly, this place was a pick-up bar - a straight pick-up bar. So what the fuck was Dad doing in a hetero pick-up bar in the middle of the afternoon? Was he trying to mend his broken heart in some half-assed attempt at going straight? Knowing Dad’s much vaunted aversion to pussy, I seriously doubted it, but I was intrigued and admittedly slightly concerned about his sanity. So, I walked in.
"Hey Dad."
He turned round slowly to take me in, looking completely unsurprised but pretty fucking wasted. "What’re you doing here?"
I shrugged, "Just passing. It’s on my route home. Saw you through the window."
"Thought you’d come in and have a drink with your old man?"
"Something like that."
His mouth quirked in this sort of bitter ironic way and he signalled to the bartender for a refill of that shitty whiskey he liked. I ordered a beer.
"So. How’s college?"
"Okay."
He nodded uninterestedly and looked away. Usually conversations between Dad and I were always lacking in actual fucking conversation, but then usually Justin was there to fill the silences with his endless blathering.
"Justin wanted me to tell you that he misses you and that you should call him," he said eventually, his voice totally flat.
"Oh? You guys still in contact then?"
"Yes. We’re still in contact. Apparently, there’s a lot to discuss when people break up." He sneered the last few words. "Things to divide up. Assets," he sorta popped his tongue over that word.
"Oh." That was surprising too. In all their previous break-ups, they’d never gotten around to the dividing shit up phase that I knew so well from my Mom’s failed marriages. Oh, except for that one time Justin moved out and bought his own place, but they’d gotten back together, like, two weeks later and ended up buying a completely new mammoth fucking apartment between them as a compromise, keeping on Justin‘s new place, and the old place they‘d both owned before. I’d lost track of how much real estate they owned between them.
He swallowed the rest of his drink and signalled for another. "So, whatcha gonna do when you graduate Sonnyboy?" Okay, so he was more than pretty fucking wasted. The only time he ever called me Sonnyboy was when he was drunk or when he was pleased with me - guess which happened most often? Plus, graduate? I was only a fucking freshman.
"I dunno." This also really wasn’t the time to tell him that I’d switched my major to Drama two months ago.
He raised his glass slowly at me, pointing with his index finger, "I want to say one word to you, just one word -" He paused, all fucking dramatic: "Plastics," and then snorted in hilarious self-amusement.
"What?"
"Plastics." He paused again, "It’s the future."
"What?"
"Jesus. Don’t you kids know anything?" he shook his head in mock disgust. "The Graduate, the movie? You seen it?"
"Don't know. Who’s in it?"
He sighed with this martyred roll of his eyes, "Forget it. Fuck."
"Is this one of those gay culture things?"
"No!" he snorted. "It’s about a kid who sleeps with an older woman. If you overlook the scene where she gets her tits out, it’s a classic movie."
We sat in silence for a while, I started to pick at the corners of the beer label, feeling awkward. I couldn’t think of anything to say. "So, you and Justin, is it, like, for real this time?"
"Yup."
"You’re not gonna ever see each other again?"
"Oh, I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Just, without the fucking," he shrugged again and looked away.
"Aren’t you - aren’t you, like, sad or something?"
"Yeah. I’m crying on the inside."
"But Dad -"
"Just leave it Gus. It’s got nothing to do with you." His gaze was steely through the alcoholic haze and I quickly shut my mouth.
"Dad," I started again after another long uncomfortable pause, "Mom’s worried about you."
"You should tell her to mind her own fucking business. And tell her to stop leaving so many fucking messages. I, unlike her, can take care of myself."
Yeah right. Both my parents were the world’s biggest fuck-ups when it came to managing on their own. But this wasn’t the time to voice that opinion so I wisely kept my mouth shut. In another weird twist, he started speaking again, kinda like I wasn‘t there. I steeled myself for one of those awful self-revelatory things:
"It was time. We’d both been fucking clinging to something…." he trailed off and I saw his fingers grip harder around his glass, "it’s for the best. Trust me. I’m just amazed it lasted this fucking long." I glanced quickly at his face. Talk about fucking awkward, his eyes were completely blank and I felt more weirded out than ever. I hastily got up to go, I so didn’t want to hear any more revelations. Dad barely noticed me leaving, he was already ordering another drink anyway.
As I turned to walk home, I thought about last year, when he was sick. On a couple of occasions, I’d been left alone with him in his private hospital room, Justin was off somewhere and Mom was busy self-medicating or weeping or something and I was supposed to keep him company. So, I would sit there in silence, staring at his unconscious face, feeling far too self-conscious and embarrassed to talk or touch this person that didn’t seem to be Dad at all. Dad was sarcastic, scary and annoying, he wasn’t this vulnerable, sick-looking stranger, but it wasn’t like I could just walk on out of there and abandon him so I just sort of kept sitting there with this phoney smile on my face. I was so fucking relieved when Justin came back and took his hand and kissed his face and spoke to him like it was totally normal and he wasn’t unconscious and he hadn’t just almost died.
******
On Sunday I had my bi-monthly call with Mel. Yeah, she schedules them, sending me these Meeting Request things which I‘m supposed to accept and keep in my electronic diary. Like I have an electronic diary. She called dead on time (of course) and I got out of bed naked to answer it. I always answered Mel's phone calls naked. It was my mini version of a rebellion. Yeah, so it's lame, but it amuses me.
"So Justin’s finally left him for good. Well good for him! About fucking time! I bet he’s fucking falling apart."
Okay, so she was right on the falling apart thing - I’d seen him in a straight bar for fuck’s sake. But I didn’t want to give her that satisfaction as her happy tone of voice was grating on my hangover-from-hell, so I didn’t say anything. Instead, I did my usual trick of asking about that ugly midget freakazoid I’m supposed to call a sister. So, I got a long gushing reply about how fucking wonderful she was which I cut off with my usual question:
"She dating yet?"
Mel then went on about how she was far too busy with the school elections to think about such things and I browsed some porn sites while listening to her get onto her habitual guilt-trip part of the phone call, "You could do just as well as JR, Gus baby if you applied yourself. I know you could. You always were such a smart boy and sometimes I just feel so guilty - I know that if Lindsey and I had stayed together things would’ve been different and you certainly wouldn‘t have gotten yourself kicked out of fucking school….." I let her go on as I watched this guy shove what looked like a kumquat up this ugly girl’s ass. When Mel finally finished, I hung up and started jerking off.
*****
About two days later, I think it was a Tuesday, I skipped my Modern 17th Central European Drama: Brecht to Handke class, (believe me, no fucking loss), and made my way to Dad and Justin’s place, though I guess it was now technically just Dad’s place. He was at work, so I rode the elevator on up to their penthouse, let myself in and made myself at home by raiding his stash (which he’s also totally not supposed to use) and surfing through the numerous adult channels he subscribed to. I was only there for an hour or something, getting happily mellow when I heard the whir of the elevator and froze. Shit! He was supposed to be at work. Quickly, I turned off the TV and dived into one of the spare bedrooms, hoping he wouldn’t notice the really obvious smell of marijuana. Luckily for me, he was engrossed in some intense conversation when he drama-queened his way into the room.
"What? Why the fuck not?"
"..."
"You’re full of shit Sunshine, you know that?"
Ohhhhh, he was talking to Justin. I concentrated hard on listening to his side of the conversation, not too difficult as Dad’s voice was really fucking loud. I heard the clink of glass and I knew he was getting himself a drink.
"That’s bullshit and you know it. It’s for relaxing. Jesus! I’m not a fucking alcoholic!" I peered through the half opened bedroom door. He was standing in the middle of the room, coat still on, briefcase thrown dramatically to the floor, phone in one hand, bottle of whiskey in the other. I would’ve laughed out loud at the irony if he hadn’t been standing right there with his murderous look of death face.
"I am not."
"..."
"I’m not drinking right now."
He was such a fucking liar. I shifted uncomfortably on my spot on the floor and I couldn’t hear the next few things Dad was saying because his voice had gotten low all of a sudden, but then I heard him:
"Come home Justin."
"..."
"Cause I miss you."
Fuck. He sounded so lost and so un-Dad-like, he was almost pleading. I scrunched up my face, I so didn’t want to listen to this.
"It’ll be different. I promise."
"..."
"No. I will. I will take care of myself. I promise. It’s just…. It’s fucking weird without you. It fucking sucks."
"..."
I was holding my breath by now. His voice had almost broken on that last bit. I slid on my ass away from the door and further into the bedroom so that I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. I stayed hunched up on the floor for another couple of minutes when I heard this huge-ass roar:
"Gus! Get your ass out here now!"
Shit.
I got to my feet and walked out the bedroom with a wide shit-eating grin on my face. Dad had his back to me and was hanging his coat up in one of his many closets with his usual painstaking anal rententiveness. "You steal my stash again, you’re fucking dead, okay?"
Double shit.
He turned around and glared at me, expression deadly serious. I kinda nodded and looked away. "Okay. And now you can tell me why I should continue bankrolling your useless drop-out ass now you’ve taken up fucking -" he screwed his mouth up into a shudder of distaste, "Drama?"
Double double shit.
*****
After I escaped from Dad, I decided to walk the few blocks back home. Mom would totally freak out if she knew, but I’d just pretend I got a cab anyway and then maybe hit her up for the fare so that would be all peachy for everybody. As I walked back I did some serious thinking, creating a list in my head of why Dad and Justin had to get back together and why Justin had to come back:
1. Dad was fucking miserable and Dad being miserable meant everyone around him was feeling the benefit of his fouler than usual (if that was possible) mood, particularly me - evidence being the massive reaming out session I’d just been subjected to.
2. Dad was going to get sick again. Which, by the rate he was drinking, smoking and overworking was going to happen sooner rather than later. And this time, with no Justin, it would be me and Mom dealing with all that shit, and what a fucking useless tag team we would make.
3. Dad missed Justin. He’d said so on the phone and in spite of the fact he was a complete asshole and habitually treated his socks with more love and respect than he did me, he was my Dad and I did have some feelings of affection for him. After all, as he was always reminding me, it was thanks to him that I was tall, hot, well-hung and not a complete moron.
4. Mom missed Justin. She had no one with whom to share hilarious and sob-ridden stories about her disastrous love life. Evidence being: her attempt this morning to engage me in conversation about this guy she’d met at a new Art-Date thing… before I’d had breakfast.
5. I missed Justin.
So, something had to be done and as I was surrounded by total fuck-ups, it was pretty fucking obvious that I was the only person capable of doing it.
*****
The Plan was simple. I would fly to LA, land on Justin’s doorstop and use my considerable wit and charm to convince him to come back to New York and keep Dad from going even more insane. Failing the wit and charm, I would use the tried and tested power of Emotional Blackmail which I had frequently deployed on Justin to great effect in the past.
First of all, I had to get to LA. Only, I was completely broke. Unfortunately this was now standing between me and Stage One of The Plan. Luckily, I was nothing if not resourceful when it came to getting money. My most tried and tested formula being the borrow-one-of-Dad’s-credit-cards-and-buy-myself-a-ticket formula. Unfortunately the last time I’d attempted to do just that in order to fly to Hawaii for a pre college party weekend, I’d run up against several new security barriers thanks to our Federal Government’s War on Fraud. So that method was probably not open to me anymore.
Another method I’d always used to great effect in the past was to help myself to Mom’s plentiful supply of legal prescription drugs and Dad’s plentiful supply of illegal non-prescription drugs and then proceed to sell them to the gullible idiots at school for a great profit. Unfortunately it was this particular moneymaking gambit that had gotten me kicked out of my old high school two years ago, so naturally, I was reluctant to go down that road again. Plus, I’d kinda promised Dad, Justin, Mom and Mel to never do it again. Then it dawned on me in one of those lame stereotypical eureka moments that all I needed to do was to ask Justin.
I composed an emotional ultra-serious email to Justin, telling him how Mom was driving me crazy and Dad was getting on my case and that I just needed a fucking break from all of them and all the shit going down at college and I really wanted to see him, so please, because I was totally broke, could he send me an e-ticket or something so I could fly to LA and spend some time with him?
Naturally Justin came through just as I knew he would and when I logged on the following evening, I had a nice little ticket waiting for me, all bought and paid for, though I was slightly peeved to notice he’d only stumped up for Club Class rather than First Class. Still, it meant I could now move into Phase Two.
Part 2
The first thing Gus said to me as I opened to door to him was: "You look like shit." Followed by: "What’s wrong with your hair?"
What’s that saying about the apple not falling far from the tree? In Gus' case, the apple’s still on the fucking tree.
"Oh? Yeah, I got it cut," I shrugged and he pushed past me still staring at my hair.
"It looks fucking awful."
"Yeah, well, I just let the guy do what he wanted to do," I went to the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out two beers, "you want one?" He nodded and took it.
He took a long pull on his beer and continued staring at me, "Dad looks like shit too. He’s, like, lost tons of weight and he’s gotten even more grey hair."
I didn’t really want to comment on that one, so I nodded back at him and asked him if he wanted to take a look around.
Gus was impressed, or at least that’s what his various exclamations of "cool" and "sweet" seemed to convey. After we did a quick tour of the place, I took him outside onto the terrace which overlooked the ocean.
"This is fucking amazing," he told me, sprawling his long legs over one of the lounge chairs and taking another pull on his beer. I smiled and sat down on the other chair, "Get me another beer, will you Justin?"
True to form as ever. I bit back a retort about his last servants and what they died of and got to my feet, I was still at the stage of being happy to see him so I headed for the kitchen to fulfil his request.
Now, I know Gus and I knew the way his devious teenage mind worked. He was obviously planning something. His email had surprised me with the level of vitriol and near despair but then Gus knew exactly what notes to hit when he wanted to play people. I’d seen him do it so many times with both Linds and Brian, though God, I’d never tell Brian that. He was probably here in some sort of capacity to try and get Brian and I back together, I just couldn’t figure out quite why he would ever care enough, he wasn’t the most selfless of people and the fact that he was actually bothering was quite touching.
"God, it’s so good to be here," he grinned at me as I returned to the terrace with the beer.
"It’s great to see you. I’ve missed you."
He nodded, trying not to grimace too obviously. Gus was very much like any normal teenaged boy (or Brian) in that he loathed any discussion about feelings. We both turned then and watched some scantily clad people stroll past below us on the beach. I loved this balcony and had spent far too much time here since I’d arrived in California, brooding, smoking, watching the hot bodies pass by below, but mainly just trying not to think about Brian. Gus being here would helpfully stop my stupid brain from its infuriating Brian-obsession, but then again, spending time with the object of your obsession’s kid was probably not the best way to move on. I reached for my pack of cigarettes and palming one out, lit it and exhaled deeply.
"You’re smoking."
Gus had turned round to dart me an accusatory look. I guess years of non-smoking and lecturing Brian on that very subject might look strange to him.
"Yeah, sorry. You don’t mind do you?"
"Only if you let me have one."
Well, I couldn’t really refuse the kid without looking like a complete hypocrite, so I threw him the pack, "I suppose I’m not in a position to condemn you."
"Yeah, you say that but if it were Dad, he would totally ream me out."
I had to laugh, he was so right, "Yeah, he would."
"He’s been smoking loads, you know?" I froze momentarily, not wanting to hear this, "And drinking."
This was definitely another conversation track I didn’t want to continue down so I got to my feet, "D’you want to go out?"
*****
I took him to this place a couple of blocks away from the apartment which I’d visited a few times already. It’s really expensive but it’s private and it’s not like I couldn’t afford it.
"Order whatever you like," I told him as we took our places in one of the more secluded corners of the restaurant. The waiter arrived then and Gus pointed to one of the most expensive champagne cocktails on the menu.
"Champagne cocktail huh? You sure you’re not queer?"
He shrugged and handed the menu to the waiter who was openly cruising him, glancing between us with this annoyingly knowing smirk.
"He probably thinks I’m paying for your services," I commented after the guy had gone.
"Ugh, oh God, that‘s so gross!" I had to laugh out loud at his disgust.
"You could clean up in one of the clubs round here," I told him, "it’s what I used to do when I was your age and Brian wasn’t around. I’d get all these old guys to buy me drinks all night and sometimes if they were really lucky and not completely repulsive, I’d let them blow me in the backroom. As a favour to them of course." I rounded the story off with a small smirk.
Gus looked at me and shook his head with a mocking smile, "You were baaad Justin."
"Oh yeah, I was baaad." We shared a quick grin.
After about two courses and six rounds of drinks, I was picking at the remains of my sea bass, feeling more relaxed than I had in ages and completely unprepared for the interrogation:
"So why’d you and Dad break up?"
"Do we have to talk about this?" I should’ve known he wouldn’t drop the subject, he definitely got his tenacity from his mother.
"I want to know. I don‘t get why you‘d leave him after all this time. I always thought you and Dad were, like, infinite."
"Nothing’s infinite Gus."
"No. I know that. But what with Mom and all her relationship shit, you and Dad, were, like always there, together, like something I could rely on -" he trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable and I could feel a nasty sensation of something very close to guilt building in me. Me and Brian were me and Brian and sometimes we got so wrapped up in me and Brian, in each other, in our relationship, in our very insular and very intense little world of two that we forgot that there were other people close to us, namely Gus and Linds who were directly impacted by our fucked-up and dysfunctional behaviour.
"Look, I’m sorry about that, but you know you can always rely on me, I’ll always be there for you."
"Yeah, but what about Dad?"
"What about him?"
"He’s totally lost without you, you know that. And I’m really fucking worried he’s going to get sick again."
I sighed and looked away from him, staring at the dark exotic tops of the palm trees casting black shadows against the frosted glass windows, "I know. I know that. I’ve told him fuck knows how many times to stop smoking, to stop working so fucking hard, to stop drinking and he ignores me. Every. Single. Fucking. Time. I just - can’t take it anymore. If he wants to drink himself into an early grave then he can go ahead and do it, only I can’t be there to watch him."
"But I have to be there. I don’t get to just abandon him like you have, we’re, like, fucking related."
"I haven’t abandoned him Gus."
"Yeah, you have."
"No. It’s Brian that’s abandoned us - our relationship." I know I sounded corny but he needed to understand this. You don’t spend your entire adult life with one person, love them more then anything in the entire world and then just leave them on a whim. "He knows how much I love him and how much you and Linds love him and count on him and yet he still insists on treating his body like shit, on not listening to his doctors - but - it‘s like he has to fucking prove something and that matters more to him than you or I do." I paused for a moment and skewered the head of my sea bass with the silver fish-knife, "And it makes me so fucking angry."
Gus didn’t say anything, I raised my head slightly and watched him taking a few awkward sips of his champagne cocktail. I sighed and ran my hand over my much regretted haircut.
"But Dad wants you back. I know he does. And you still love him so that’s all that matters, right?"
I almost wanted to laugh at those words, "Yeah, that’s what I used to think too."
*****
The next day I was woken up by a distant hammering sound on the door and rolled over, covering my thumping head with my pillow. Of course the banging didn’t stop. I groaned, sighed and heaved my sleep deadened body out of bed. There was only one person who could be that annoying.
"Where is he?"
Yeah, nice to see you too, oh Love Of My Life.
"Where is the little shit?"
I held my head and groaned. "Will you stop fucking shouting?"
"Why’d you buy him a fucking ticket? What the fuck did you think you were doing?"
"I thought you knew, he said he’d told you and Linds!" Fucking Gus. I should’ve known.
"Well he fucking played you Sunshine!"
Oh God, I so wasn’t feeling up to this. I let the rest of the tirade wash over me and pulled open the fridge door reaching for a bottle of water. I was almost tempted to pour the whole lot of it over my head just to see his face, but I was able to restrain myself and sipped at it instead.
"You could’ve just called and asked if he was here," I managed to interject when he finally shut up. "You didn’t have to come all the way out here."
He didn’t say anything, just glared at me. Gus was right about him looking like shit, it seemed like he hadn't slept properly ever since I'd left and knowing him he probably hadn’t.
"Hey Dad!" Gus’s breezy voice called out as he emerged from his room looking well-rested and wearing a wide shit-eating grin, "What’re you doing here?"
"Coming after you, you little shit!" Brian turned one of his most withering stares on his blasé offspring. "What the fuck else would I be doing here?"
Gus shrugged coolly, "I don’t know. Maybe you came for the weather?" I swallowed back a snigger as Brian continued to stare at Gus, narrowing his eyes even further if that was possible.
"The weather! Do you realise how fucking hysterical your mother is? Why the fuck didn’t you tell her where you were going?"
"I did tell her, I left her a note," he shrugged and reached to take the water bottle out of my hand. I just let him.
"Well she didn’t fucking get it!"
"Well it’s not my fucking fault," he retorted walking away from us and leaning, the picture of nonchalance, against the breakfast bar. "How did you know I’d come here?"
"I had one of the guys from IT break into your computer," Brian returned with a self-satisfied smirk, "and we’ll be talking about the shit I found on it later."
"You did what?" I couldn’t fucking believe what had just come out of Brian's mouth. Gus’ nonchalance immediately faded at those words, his mouth working into an intensely panicked ‘oh’. "How dare you invade his privacy like that?"
"It’s got nothing to do with you. Stay out of it," Brian turned back towards me.
"Bullshit it’s got nothing to do with me! I invited Gus. I sent him the ticket."
"Yeah, cause you’re an idiot."
"Oh! I’m an idiot? That’s fucking rich coming from you!"
After screaming at Brian for about five minutes and him giving as good as he got, I looked around and noticed with surprise that Gus had left.
"Where the fuck’s he gone now?" Brian frowned.
"Would you want to stick around and listen to us fight?"
"I don‘t know, I quite enjoyed it," he shrugged and quirked his lip slightly at me. I huffed out a sigh and turned to rest my palms on the edge of the sink, staring at the rivulets of water running against the shiny metal surface.
I had my back to him and I didn’t see him approach, though I could feel him come closer, standing directly behind me, I could feel the hairs on my neck rising, "You look like shit."
I twisted so I was leaning back against the sink, raising my head to look into his eyes, "So do you."
"Your haircut’s for shit. What were you thinking?"
I raised a tentative hand to my head, running it over the offending hair, "I don’t know. I was kinda in a weird place. It’s your fault." I let my hand fall to my side, now really aware of how close we were standing and how much I wanted to touch him.
He smiled slightly and looked away, an almost embarrassed expression shifting over his face, "I missed you." He raised his hand and caressed the back of my head, pulling me against his chest, resting his chin on top of my head. I felt him breathe in and out against my skin, almost inhaling my scent. A sudden feeling of ridiculous euphoria was overwhelming me and I pressed my face further against his chest, exhaling. I felt his kiss against my neck first and a shiver gathered at the edge of my spine. "No, wait." I pulled away annoyed at myself and my fucking non-functioning willpower, but then again, when had I ever had willpower when it came to him?
He was ignoring my half-assed protests and instead pressed me back against the sink, pressing more kisses into my neck, the side of my face, my throat, "Justin? Shut the fuck up."
*****
He walked me into the bedroom, or rather we sort of half-stumbled, half-walked into the bedroom, legs knocking untidily against each other, hands pawing clumsily at jackets, shirts, pants, underwear, Brian’s arms were tight around me the whole time as we finally tumbled onto the bed, the springs sinking under our joint entwined weight. On the bed he crawled all over me, kissing, licking, biting at my face, my neck, my shoulders as I gripped and scratched at him. Then he stopped, pausing and leaning over me, stared directly into my face for a tiny overwhelming moment before he was kissing me properly, deep and hot and so, so familiar. I broke away from him for a moment, my lips sore and red, "The door - we should close the door."
"Fuck the door," he groaned and I could feel him grinding himself against me, his dick hard against my hip.
"No, wait, Gus might come back," I pulled away from him and made to get off the bed, his arm still wrapped around my waist not letting me go.
"He’s seen us before. Justin -"
"I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that," I rolled my eyes and pushed his arm away, climbing off the bed. I ran to shut the door, ramming the bolt home and God didn‘t that sound appealing? I practically fucking jumped back on the bed in my eagerness to get back to him. He was looking at me with an indulgent smile, reaching out a hand to run it over my body, down my chest, over my stomach, lower and lower with an absorbed expression of awe and love and then he was touching my dick, caressing my balls. I groaned in appreciation and watched his face closely, staring at his half-closed eyes, dark with a mixture of no sleep and lust, the lines around them more pronounced, his skin dryer and his lips thinner, but all so, so perfect. Looking at him now and feeling his hands all over me and him so achingly close, I couldn’t remember why I had left and why I had tortured myself for the past Brian-less weeks. All I could think about was wanting him, needing him, all over me, in me, on me, any way, I didn’t care, I just wanted him. I crept closer to him, draping both my arms over his shoulders and whispering directly into his ear, "Brian."
******
The next day to Gus’s intense disgust, we barely left the apartment. He had disappeared by the time hunger drove me out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
"Little fucker took $300 from my fucking wallet," bitched Brian as he slid naked onto one of the stools by the breakfast bar.
"Well, he has expensive tastes," I turned and grinned at him, he was in the process of lighting a cigarette, I darted my eyes to it and frowned.
"Last one," he looked at my disbelieving face, raising one eyebrow, "promise."
"Hmmm, believe that when I see it." I went back to poaching the eggs, sliding them carefully out of the pan next to the rye toast and spinach, I picked it up and placed it fait accompli style in front of Brian.
"I’m not eating that."
"Oh, why?"
"Eggs, Sunshine. Cholesterol." He looked so fucking pleased with himself for thinking of that.
"That’s bullshit," I told him. "That shit about eggs being full of bad cholesterol is just a myth. They’re full of good cholesterol and important nutrients. So, eat it." I leaned over and pulled the cigarette out his fingers, shoving the plate of food towards him. I turned to throw the cigarette into the trash, not before taking a small crafty drag.
"I saw that."
I turned and shrugged, "Yeah, well maybe I’ll take it up seeing as you’re now quitting."
"You wouldn’t."
"You know I so would. Now eat your fucking breakfast."
"Jesus, I forgot what a nag you are." He sighed like the true martyr he was and reluctantly began to jab at the eggs with his fork.
"Yeah, but you can’t live without me." I slid onto the stool in front of him with my widest smile. "You said so last night."
"I plead temporary insanity due to a distinct lack of getting laid."
"It was after we fucked."
He looked up and scowled at me, I just returned the scowl with my own beatific smile.
"So when will you be done here?"
"What?" I stood up again and turned back to the stove to check on my eggs.
"When are you getting your ass back to New York?" He spoke the words slowly as if talking to a retarded person.
"I don’t know. I have a commission to work on here."
"Fuck it."
"I can't just fuck it Brian, it's not professional." I knew I was avoiding the question, but the truth was I still wasn’t sure how things were between us. What was the fucking point of saying all that stuff and leaving for a point if I just gave in and came back? Nothing would ever change. "Anyway, I’m still not sure if I want to come back."
"Bullshit."
"No. It’s not bullshit. All that stuff I said about you taking care of yourself, I was totally fucking serious. Any decision I make about coming back is wholly contingent on you promising to look after yourself and particularly to stop fucking drinking."
"So, what? This is an ultimatum?"
"No. This is gonna save your fucking life you stupid asshole!" I gritted my teeth and slid my eggs onto a plate, slamming them down onto the counter beside him. I was pleased to notice him flinch slightly. Good.
He sighed and abandoning the eggs for a moment, ran one hand over his hair. His face looked suddenly tired and for once he looked his actual age, "Look. Listen to me. Say I do? Say I do everything you want and quit smoking and quit drinking and scale back my hours at work. It won’t make any fucking difference, I know I’m going to die in the next few years anyway."
I froze at those words and stared down at my eggs, the yolks had broken and were running fluorescent yellow over the plate, "No you’re not," I said softly.
"You don’t know that. Fuck, I’ve had cancer - twice, I’ve got one fucking ball, I’ve got a barely functioning heart, my body‘s falling apart. I always knew I‘d never live a long life Sunshine, people like me aren‘t meant to."
"Bullshit. That’s bullshit. It’s an excuse Brian. You’re not going to die for a long, long time, not if I’ve got anything to do with it," I felt my voice gaining force.
"Justin -"
"Jesus, will you fucking shut up for a moment? You’re still frightened about what happened last year, I know you and I know how your mind works. You’re scared because you know you’re not invincible. It’s just like what happened with the cancer, only this time you’re even more freaked out because you’re not thirty-two, you’re forty-eight," he actually gave a full body shudder at the mention of his age, "But I’m not going to let you get away with it. I’ll tie you to the fucking bed if necessary."
He turned a small sly smile to me, "Promise?"
I smiled weakly, "Promise. But you’ve got to help me, I can’t do it all on my own." I felt my breath catch in my throat and moved around to the other side of the counter, passing one arm around him, pulling him back against my own body, feeling his realness, his warmth. I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of his bare skin, letting the dampness of my eyes fade into his skin, "God Brian, just - just, please -"
He twisted slightly on his stool, turning to wrap both arms around me, holding me tightly, "Okay," he said it softly. "Whatever you want." He pulled his head back and looked into my eyes, tracing one finger along the line of my jaw, "But please just come home."
*****
Epilogue
Unfortunately, my new flight arrangements meant I had to sit next to Dad all the way back to New York. At least we were in First Class which didn’t stop Dad from bitching about absolutely everything all the way back. God, he was so embarrassing.
"So, when’s Justin coming back?"
I tried to drop it subtly into the conversation as Dad was scanning through his messages on that tiny watch hologram thing he wore.
"What?"
"Justin. When’s he coming back to New York?"
"Couple of weeks," he answered distractedly.
"Oh right. So that means that you two are, like, a couple again?"
"We’re not a fucking couple Gus."
I rolled my eyes, he was so predictable, "Yeah, yeah, you’re not a fucking couple, whatever, just let me know if my plan worked or failed will you?"
"Your plan?"
"Yeah, my secret plan. I go to LA, you panic, queen out and follow me. You see Justin, can’t resist each other and voila back together again."
He laughed out loud at that, like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard, "That was your plan? Sounds like a contender for The Lamest Most Half-Assed Plan in the Universe to me Sonnyboy."
"Shut up! It worked, didn’t it? You and Justin are all happy-happy fuck-fuck again, aren’t you?"
He looked away, still sniggering to himself, the big freak. For a middle aged guy, he could be so fucking immature.
"So, what do I get as a reward for my hard work?" I demanded. That stopped him sniggering.
"You’re fucking kidding me right?"
"Nuh-huh."
He sighed dramatically and went back to his messages, "I’ll think it over."
He scrolled through a few messages then lifted his head again, glancing at me with a slight frown, "Out of interest, say I do believe you had some sort of "plan", why the fuck would you care about me and Justin and our happiness? And don’t tell me it’s because you love your old man so fucking much because I know that’s not true."
I shrugged, "Well, you’re alright, I guess, when Justin’s around. When he’s not, like these past few weeks, you’re just fucking impossible, so it was mainly for my own benefit."
"I’m not that bad."
"Oh you so are. Plus, without Justin, I was kinda worried about your sanity and your health and so was Mom."
"My health? Jesus, have the three of you been comparing notes?"
"No. But he told me that was why he left you and I kinda think he was right. We don’t want you to die so you’ve gotta get your shit together and stop drinking and smoking and working so fucking hard." I swallowed, feeling my throat contract slightly, "If you die Dad then I‘m just left with Mom and she - well, you know what she‘s like, she‘d be even more of a mess and probably end up in another dead end relationship and I don’t know if I could cope with all that and other life shit on my own, plus, you know, I might miss you."
There. I've finally fucking said it. I felt weird afterwards, almost like I wanted to fucking burst into tears or some such shit. If I ever decide to tell my shrink about this, she'll have a fucking orgasm.
Dad was looking at me with an unfamiliar softness in his expression, kinda like he was weirdly proud of me which was majorly freaky in itself. The only times I remember him looking like that were when he’d read a rave review of one of Justin’s shows or on the extremely rare occasions I’d gotten good grades or high school junior year when I’d captained the soccer team to our award-winning unbeaten season (before they’d kicked me out for the drug dealing thing).
"You know you’ll always have Justin too," he told me.
I nodded, willing the fucking tears to not spill from my eyes. I never fucking cried.
"And, I know I can be a selfish prick -"
I nodded in agreement. He was definitely right on that one.
"But I don’t really want to die myself just yet, so I guess I might consider being a bit more choosy with some of the shit that I put in my body," he smiled wryly at that as if it was like majorly amusing. "And just between you and me, I don’t know if I could put up with up another of Justin’s queen-outs."
He looked at me, smiling slightly and I smiled back at him, feeling this vague sensation of a shared conspiracy. He turned back to checking his messages and I turned my head away from him, closing my eyes, I was pretty fucking exhausted, being this altruistic was wearying. Plus I‘d been so aware of the fact Dad and Justin were having yet more reunion sex last night I‘d worn my Earpod until the battery died and gotten, like, zero sleep.
"So, how about you tell me where you got some of that hardcore shit you had on your hard drive?"
Fuck.
"I’ve looked all over but I’ve never managed to find anything quite that fucked-up."
Oh God. I was gonna be in therapy for years.