THE WINDOW OF MY MIND
Title: The Window of My Mind
Written By: gaeln
Timeline: Post 513
Rating: R
What if: Justin was there
Warning: Justin as silent observer so, consequently, heavy on Justin’s inner thoughts and light on actual dialogue but it's fairly short and vaguely AU.
Author's Notes: Maybe this ‘what if’ has been done to death but I’ve only read one so…thanks once again to the lovely shadownyc for betaing for me.
The Window of My Mind
Settling his backpack on his left shoulder, his book bag already safe on his right, he moves down the too-narrow corridor, through the open doorway and, once inside the terminal, he expertly weaves his way through the weary late-night travelers…past Starbucks and Burger King and Cinnabun…to passenger pick-up, snagging the at-the-head-of-the-line Yellow Cab and, collectively, he and the driver, they move off into the dark of the Pittsburgh night.
Their destination may be the same…Liberty Avenue but their reasons for going there couldn’t be more different.
For him it’s mostly about confronting his fear but it’s also about celebrating the rebirth of an icon and the staking of a claim. For the driver it’s mostly about putting food on the table but it’s also about getting his kid‘s teeth fixed and taking the wife for that weekend vacation in Atlantic City. Same destination…different reasons…different journeys and neither of them wants anything to get in their way so…nothing does.
They speed down the highway, no one saying a word. The driver drives while Justin gazes, he’s only vaguely aware of the whirl of random colors shining bright against the deep blue-black of nighttime sky, his eyes, almost by instinct, searching for those imaginary patterns imposed on that same nighttime sky by the ancients…their futile attempt to find order where, really, none exists.
And he smiles…soon…soon…he‘ll be there soon.
He has the guy drop him off a couple of blocks away, less chance of being seen by anyone so, less chance of spoiling the surprise, he reasons, but he knows he’s only just fooling himself. For one thing, there’s no way he’s getting into Babylon without someone recognizing him and for another, well…honestly? That’s just not the real reason he’s causing even further delay. The real reason, he knows, lies deep inside himself and he’d have to be in some serious denial not to understand that. He hasn’t been there, he hasn’t been back to Babylon, since that night…that awful night four months ago when seven people died…that night when Michael nearly did.
He hasn’t been there since the night their cocooned little world exploded onto the national news and the front page of newspapers across America, the survivors reluctant witnesses to hate and intolerance made tangible...made undeniable, reliving their experiences time and again for radio and TV talk-show hosts, for newspaper and magazine journalists, just like them, all the talking-heads and wordsmiths, trying to understand.
He hasn’t been back there since the night Babylon and its dead became martyrs to a cause.
But he also hasn’t been back to Babylon since that same night, that very same night when Brian first told him he was loved, really loved. By him. Fuck…by him.
And even after all this time, remembering the touch of his hands, the feel of his body, the sound of his voice causes Justin to shiver just a little and he smiles as he thinks of it, the way those words felt when whispered over his ear, across his hair and into his mouth, how they moved through him…made him whimper…made him hard.
He’d always told himself that the words, the actual words themselves, meant nothing. He knew Brian loved him, he’d known he did for a while, so what the fuck did three little words matter? But he’d been wrong. They did matter, they mattered more then he could’ve known and he’s no longer able to imagine living his life without hearing the echo of them in his mind.
But remembering those words from then doesn’t change the fact that he’s still scared now…well, maybe not so much scared as seriously uneasy…a serious kind of uneasiness wrapped up in a distinct kind of anxiety so…he goes slow. He wanders the first block hiding in daydreams, vision-memories of times that are past, in his mind seeing himself and Brian everywhere. That’s where they kissed in front of the cops just to piss ‘em off…over there, in front of Woody’s, that’s where he and Brian faced-off with Hobbs and that’s where they danced in the street to celebrate the defeat of their enemy…in front of the diner he can almost see the Vette, Brian waiting to take him to the loft after another late-night shift is over…there’s the gym where they, separately and collectively, amassed who knows how many phone numbers…the Thai Take-Out…the corner grocery store…everywhere he looks he finds the memories of their life.
And it still is their life; even if he doesn’t live here anymore…no matter how long he might be gone…even if he never comes back, it will always be theirs.
Although deep in his remembering, he’s still able to easily weave his way through the night-time crowd. Only this time, instead of weary travelers, he weaves his way through pretty club boys and buffed-out hunks and sparkling queens, all heading the same way he is, all heading toward Babylon.
But the thing is…Babylon still blows-up regularly in his nightmares, a blinding white flash from somewhere behind him, surrounding him, and then nothing, nothing but blackness, no sight just sound, the sound of people screaming, the sound of Babylon dying. And a crushing heaviness, he’s unable to move and sometimes that’s where the dream ends, he wakes up shaking and feeling lost but sometimes they end differently. Sometimes he wakes up at the sound of Brian yelling for him, desperate to find him and while he still wakes up shaking, it isn’t as bad. He knows he’ll be alright because he knows he’ll be found.
And even though he continues his hesitation, it’s not for too long, the need to be a part of this, Babylon’s reopening, far outweighs…well, maybe not far outweighs but still…need does outweigh uneasiness wrapped up in anxiety so he continues his way down Liberty Avenue toward a phoenix risen from the ashes, the building bright with lights, people disappearing down its alleyway to get in line.
Brian’s ‘fuck you’ to all those who thought destroying it would bring them to their knees.
No way. No…fucking…way. Not now…not ever.
Liberty is theirs, they fought for it, they won it and no one will ever take it from them, not crusading politicians, not murdering fanatics…no one.
Although now psyching himself up, although now also feeding off the energy of those around him, feeling less uneasy, less anxious, he still covers the distance between himself and Babylon more slowly then might have been expected and when he reaches the corner, with Babylon just at the end of the next block, he slows, he stops, he leans against a pole, and he remembers too much. The lights change two, maybe three times, until finally someone, a pretty club boy on the verge of becoming a sparkling queen, notices him, and taking his hand, he drags Justin along with, “Come on sweetie, the party’s over here, come with me.” Gently he pulls Justin across the street and down the next block, toward the sidewalk leading into the alleyway.
And Justin goes with him because, really, what else is there for him to do.
But when they get close, close enough to start moving through the tightly packed alley toward the end of the line, he is recognized…by Jake the bouncer, working the door. “Justin,” Jake summons him, gesturing him to come.
He lets go of his new friend, telling him, “Find me inside,” knowing he won’t and his new friend grins at him, giving him a quick kiss, telling him, “Sure, sweetie, I’ll find you,” but also knowing he won’t. He goes to his friends waiting impatiently for him further down the line while Justin goes to Jake waiting patiently for him by the door.
Jake tells him, “You can go on in, baby, go ahead,” and he also grins at Justin while continuing to card and admit…card and admit…card and admit the seemingly never-ending line of party-goers. “I thought the boss wasn’t expecting you, though? What was it? Somethin’ about an opening that could not be missed, right? Compounded by…illness? I distinctly recall him sayin’ somethin’ about you not being able to attend our fabulous reopening which, I have to admit, I found to be very sad.”
“Oh you did, did you?” Justin laughingly questions him.
“Yes, yes I did,” Jake solemnly assures him.
So Justin grins right back at him and then shaking his head in further reply, tells him, “No, the boss isn’t expecting me, kind of a surprise…I guess. Glad to see you here though. You good?”
“Could not be better, Justin, could not be better. I’m just glad Brian hired me back, four months away from here was…difficult.”
“I can imagine.”
“Yeah, well say what you will but without Babylon…man,” and he sighs his annoyance just remembering it and then, instantly perking up, continuing with, “And now look, the place is packed…” they both glance at the crowd around them as if to confirm his assertion, “And let me tell you, it is amazing how many people are trying to get in here tonight, and some of them are…get this,” him coming into Justin all close and secretive-like, “Straight…couples.”
“Nooo?" Justin questions him.
“Believe it,” Jake assures him, “It is fucking fabulous, Justin, it really is.”
“It really is,” Justin murmurs but mostly to the doorway just in front of him, the doorway answering him only with bass rhythms and vibrating lights and he hesitates again but this time Jake’s there to take notice.
“Don’t worry Justin, there’s nothin’ to worry about, really. Nothing like that’s ever gonna happen here again…I swear. Look, I promised Brian and now I’m promising you, you believe me…don‘t ya?”
He gives Justin a gentle push from behind causing him to do a little spin back toward him, his hands thrown out in mock-defeat, “Okay, okay,” he laugh-tells Jake, “I’m goin’, I’m goin’, see me go?”
And he does. Smiling, Jake watches as he disappears through the doorway into Babylon come alive.
He stops just inside that doorway, safe within Brian’s meticulously rewoven state-of-the-art cocoon and he feels…he sees…he breathes in their beautiful, beautiful world.
He feels it as iridescent snow twirls from the darkened ceiling, as it falls lightly over the club boys and buffed-out hunks and sparkling queens below, soft touches on their skin before landing in drifts across the floor.
He see it as lights shimmer in reflection in the mirrors and bright-colored bottles behind the bar where the bartenders whirl and dance, black-silhouettes against turquoise and orange panels of light, as the music etches itself into their very DNA, he’s sure it will. That fucking thumpa-thumpa, he knows they must hear it in their dreams because he sure-as-shit knows he does.
And he breathes it in, the warm smell of sex and need, the sharp smell of alcohol and lust, the sweet smell of cologne and longing.
And when he sees him, when he sees Brian up on a platform, time slows, maybe almost stops. His awareness becomes narrow, focused, everyone else around him just so much ambiance and he finds himself breathing in time to the swaying of Brian’s hips…hips sway soft back and forth, he breathes soft in and out…back and forth, in and out…connected as Brian dances…as he dances above all the rest…as he dances all alone.
His head’s thrown back in abandon, his eyes just barely open, his arms stretched out before him, hands laid one over the other with fingers snapping. He’s bathed in golden light and Justin gasps quietly from within as he remembers, how could he ever forget--just how beautiful Brian really is.
And still he dances alone, laser-lights fanning out just above him, his arms cutting through the arrow-straight lines of grass-green whenever he stretches them languid over his head. He dances alone but not for long. Soon enough, a red-haired twink works up the courage to climb up behind him, wrapping his arms around Brian, swaying his hips in time to Brian’s hips, in time to Justin’s breathing, and they both let him. He holds the twink’s arms across his chest as, at least for a while, the boy dances draped along Brian’s back until eventually Brian turns to him, whispering soft in his ear, words only the boy hears and he smiles to Brian, kissing him quick and then, jumping down from the platform into the arms of his friends, he knows that his time above all the rest is over.
Justin understands that this has been going on all night and so he moves on, he moves as a shadow on the edges of the celebrating crowd and he watches, all fear forgotten.
At least for now. It’s the same, this Babylon and it’s not. They’re all the same but then again, they’re really not either, Babylon’s newer with cutting-edge security, they’re wiser with the scars to prove it and so the beat goes on as he moves for a while and then leaning,as he watches for a while, the pattern repeated again and again.
And so the game plays on.
Up the stairs and along the three-sided catwalk, always in the shadows, never in the light, Justin’s pulse keeps time to the never-ending rhythm and his eyes never leave Brian as, time after time, would-be seducers try to stake their claim. And as time after time, they’re refused. Brian gives a little, just so much and when they want more, when they whisper around his ear, into his hair, words they hope will win him, he tells them to go. The Brian of five years ago would have just told them all to ‘fuck-off’…no…actually the Brian of five years ago would’ve had his dick sucked three times by now and would’ve fucked at least two sweet asses. But Justin knows this isn’t that Brian, this is someone changed. They all leave, if not that satisfied then at least not that wounded, his would-be seducers, he’s letting them go easy but he is letting them go just the same and Justin can’t help but wonder why.
He continues the path of his quest down the length of the catwalk, along one side, along the second, along the third, always watching him and he just can’t help but wonder why.
And then it’s Michael’s time to join Brian on the platform. Justin watches him as he moves from Ben to Brian, Brian reaching down to help him up and with him, he really dances, his bare arms lie easily over Michael’s shoulders, their foreheads brought together with soft smiles exchanged. For one song, for two, then into a third they dance until finally Brian whispers softly in his ear words Michael already knows and he laughs. Brian gives him a sweet kiss and then, jumping down, Michael moves his way back into Ben’s arms, once more just a part of the crowd.
He switches focus occasionally, watching their friends for seconds at a time but not often, he finds it’s too difficult to keep his mind anywhere else but on Brian. And when he does, with mind-numbing frequency, refocuses from Ted and Blake or Michael and Ben or Emmett back to Brian, he half-expects each time to find him gone, he half-expects each time to find him dragging some warm willing twink to the backroom but instead each time he finds him still there and Justin’s confusion grows.
It‘s just so fucking weird.
Because changed or not, the man still has his needs.
Yet Justin waits, he waits his time, wanting just the right song to be thmpa-thumping out of the state-of-the-art sound system and when that just-right song fills the room, pulsing off every surface and into every body, he knows the time has come to make his presence known, the time has come for him to move from the shadows into the light.
He’s already, if not conquered his fear, then at least confronted it.
He’s already been a part of the celebration of the rebirth of an icon.
So now he just has to stake his claim.
With the voice of Heather Small singing, “What have you done today to make you feel proud?” surrounding him, he makes his way down the stairs to the floor stopping just on the edge of the crowd in front of him so he can gauge his way through what has become the epitome of boys gone wild, everyone sweaty and horny, drunk and charged, everyone knowing the end is near…it’s closing time.
Brian always used to close Babylon to ‘Proud’ and, apparently that’s a tradition he’s planning on keeping in place, some things must remain the same, some things are not meant to change.
But when they see him, they move aside for him because they know…they know that without a doubt, he’s the one Brian’s been waiting for.
He’s the young King Arthur come to pull Excalibur from the stone, the only one, at least for this night, who can.
He climbs up behind him, wrapping strong arms around him and Brian holds on, holds his arms across his chest…just like with all the others. But now it’s their hips that sway together, it’s now their breathing that moves in and out together, now they’re connected as they dance above all the rest.
Brian murmurs all warm and needing, “Ummhh, yeah, that feels good…ohgodyeah…so good,” and as his voice drifts to silence, his head dipping back onto Justin’s shoulder, his eyes remain softly closed as he wonders, with just a hint of irritation, “What the fuck took you so long? I was just about to find some….”
“The fuck you say,” and Justin jostles him, “You did not know it was me,” and he laughs into his hair, “And you didn’t know I was here.”
“Yeah, well…what was it you said on the phone last night? Oh yeah, yeah, I remember, I remember. You said that you had ‘the worst case of the flu ever known to man.’ Let’s just say your little acting job just wasn’t all that…convincing. I had my…doubts.”
“I was perfection and you know it,” Justin retorts with a highly refined sense of indignation. “You so believed me,” he sing-songs mockingly.
“Like hell I did,” and Brian laughs at the absurdity of Justin‘s mocking.
“The hell you didn’t.” But when Brian turns in his arms, grabbing him up, holding him tight against him, kissing him hard and complete and just a little desperate, Justin knows Brian’s uncertainty. He thinks maybe he did know he was lying, he just didn’t know why and Brian being Brian, he thought the worst. Well, maybe not the worst but definitely not the truth. Brian didn’t know he was coming and his relief is something that can be smelled and tasted and touched…at least by him. Justin knows the texture and nuances of all of Brian’s insecurities…intimately.
And Brian continues, “Plus…Jake may have mentioned something to Michael and well…need I say more.”
“Fuck…that's just not fair, kind of a conspiracy or something but…well, anyway…anyway, sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, I was sick just not…” he tries to make it up.
“Shit…and I’ve kissed that mouth, if I get some disgusting disease I swear I’ll…”
“You’ll what, huh? What’ll you do? Fuck me into oblivion ‘cause, if that’s the case, then…” but Brian stops him from finishing his thought with another kiss, just as hungry as the first and Justin lets him.
And trying to have the last word, Brian questions, “And just what the fuck makes you think I’d worry…huh?”
“Nothing, Brian,” Justin whispers, “I know you never worry about me,” his lips just lightly touching the skin of Brian‘s throat, “Now do you?” he questions, with just a hint of snark.
Brian does a soft snort, “No need, I’ve raised you well,” and he murmurs, “I know you can take care of yourself.”
“Yeah well…perhaps but,” and Justin pauses for effect, “Not as well as…you can, no one takes care of me the way you do,” which gets him another kiss and a gentle slap on his ass.
He only just hears Brian’s retort of, “Yeah, I’ll just bet.”
And so the song ends, the club lights flash on and off and everyone reluctantly stops dancing. They’re all vaguely dazed and noticeably pissed-off at having their fabulous night come to an end. Nonetheless they begin their mass exodus for the door…time to go home…there‘s always tomorrow.
Brian pulls him down from the platform and, leaning back against it, he brings Justin up tight in his arms again and, cupping the back of his head, with their mouths just a milli-inch apart, he asks, “Got a place to stay, you know, for tonight?” Brian then flicks his tongue out, licking his lips and he pretend-bites at it, missing but not by too much.
Pulling back from Brian, grinning, he tells him, “I had thought I might, you know, stay at the loft?”
“Oh is that right? And so…what? You think every time you just come waltzing into town you’re gonna find shelter in my bed…”
“Yeah, yeah that’s exactly what I think, you gotta problem with that? ‘Cause if you…”
“Justin…?”
“No…seriously, if you’ve got a problem with…”
“Justin!”
“What?”
“Let’s go home…humm?”
“Well…alright…fine…if you really think…”
“Justin!”
“Yeah!?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
And genius that he is, he does.
So, after Brian makes sure Babylon is taken care of for the night, they go back to the loft where they fuck like rabbits and in a year or two, when Brian finally leaves Pittsburgh behind, they will live happily ever after…in New York.
The End
So what have you done today to make you feel proud?
I look into the window of my mind
Reflections of the fears I know I've left behind
I step out of the ordinary
I can feel my soul ascending
I am on my way
Can't stop me now
And you can do the same
Heather Small - “Proud”
Written By: gaeln
Timeline: Post 513
Rating: R
What if: Justin was there
Warning: Justin as silent observer so, consequently, heavy on Justin’s inner thoughts and light on actual dialogue but it's fairly short and vaguely AU.
Author's Notes: Maybe this ‘what if’ has been done to death but I’ve only read one so…thanks once again to the lovely shadownyc for betaing for me.
The Window of My Mind
Settling his backpack on his left shoulder, his book bag already safe on his right, he moves down the too-narrow corridor, through the open doorway and, once inside the terminal, he expertly weaves his way through the weary late-night travelers…past Starbucks and Burger King and Cinnabun…to passenger pick-up, snagging the at-the-head-of-the-line Yellow Cab and, collectively, he and the driver, they move off into the dark of the Pittsburgh night.
Their destination may be the same…Liberty Avenue but their reasons for going there couldn’t be more different.
For him it’s mostly about confronting his fear but it’s also about celebrating the rebirth of an icon and the staking of a claim. For the driver it’s mostly about putting food on the table but it’s also about getting his kid‘s teeth fixed and taking the wife for that weekend vacation in Atlantic City. Same destination…different reasons…different journeys and neither of them wants anything to get in their way so…nothing does.
They speed down the highway, no one saying a word. The driver drives while Justin gazes, he’s only vaguely aware of the whirl of random colors shining bright against the deep blue-black of nighttime sky, his eyes, almost by instinct, searching for those imaginary patterns imposed on that same nighttime sky by the ancients…their futile attempt to find order where, really, none exists.
And he smiles…soon…soon…he‘ll be there soon.
He has the guy drop him off a couple of blocks away, less chance of being seen by anyone so, less chance of spoiling the surprise, he reasons, but he knows he’s only just fooling himself. For one thing, there’s no way he’s getting into Babylon without someone recognizing him and for another, well…honestly? That’s just not the real reason he’s causing even further delay. The real reason, he knows, lies deep inside himself and he’d have to be in some serious denial not to understand that. He hasn’t been there, he hasn’t been back to Babylon, since that night…that awful night four months ago when seven people died…that night when Michael nearly did.
He hasn’t been there since the night their cocooned little world exploded onto the national news and the front page of newspapers across America, the survivors reluctant witnesses to hate and intolerance made tangible...made undeniable, reliving their experiences time and again for radio and TV talk-show hosts, for newspaper and magazine journalists, just like them, all the talking-heads and wordsmiths, trying to understand.
He hasn’t been back there since the night Babylon and its dead became martyrs to a cause.
But he also hasn’t been back to Babylon since that same night, that very same night when Brian first told him he was loved, really loved. By him. Fuck…by him.
And even after all this time, remembering the touch of his hands, the feel of his body, the sound of his voice causes Justin to shiver just a little and he smiles as he thinks of it, the way those words felt when whispered over his ear, across his hair and into his mouth, how they moved through him…made him whimper…made him hard.
He’d always told himself that the words, the actual words themselves, meant nothing. He knew Brian loved him, he’d known he did for a while, so what the fuck did three little words matter? But he’d been wrong. They did matter, they mattered more then he could’ve known and he’s no longer able to imagine living his life without hearing the echo of them in his mind.
But remembering those words from then doesn’t change the fact that he’s still scared now…well, maybe not so much scared as seriously uneasy…a serious kind of uneasiness wrapped up in a distinct kind of anxiety so…he goes slow. He wanders the first block hiding in daydreams, vision-memories of times that are past, in his mind seeing himself and Brian everywhere. That’s where they kissed in front of the cops just to piss ‘em off…over there, in front of Woody’s, that’s where he and Brian faced-off with Hobbs and that’s where they danced in the street to celebrate the defeat of their enemy…in front of the diner he can almost see the Vette, Brian waiting to take him to the loft after another late-night shift is over…there’s the gym where they, separately and collectively, amassed who knows how many phone numbers…the Thai Take-Out…the corner grocery store…everywhere he looks he finds the memories of their life.
And it still is their life; even if he doesn’t live here anymore…no matter how long he might be gone…even if he never comes back, it will always be theirs.
Although deep in his remembering, he’s still able to easily weave his way through the night-time crowd. Only this time, instead of weary travelers, he weaves his way through pretty club boys and buffed-out hunks and sparkling queens, all heading the same way he is, all heading toward Babylon.
But the thing is…Babylon still blows-up regularly in his nightmares, a blinding white flash from somewhere behind him, surrounding him, and then nothing, nothing but blackness, no sight just sound, the sound of people screaming, the sound of Babylon dying. And a crushing heaviness, he’s unable to move and sometimes that’s where the dream ends, he wakes up shaking and feeling lost but sometimes they end differently. Sometimes he wakes up at the sound of Brian yelling for him, desperate to find him and while he still wakes up shaking, it isn’t as bad. He knows he’ll be alright because he knows he’ll be found.
And even though he continues his hesitation, it’s not for too long, the need to be a part of this, Babylon’s reopening, far outweighs…well, maybe not far outweighs but still…need does outweigh uneasiness wrapped up in anxiety so he continues his way down Liberty Avenue toward a phoenix risen from the ashes, the building bright with lights, people disappearing down its alleyway to get in line.
Brian’s ‘fuck you’ to all those who thought destroying it would bring them to their knees.
No way. No…fucking…way. Not now…not ever.
Liberty is theirs, they fought for it, they won it and no one will ever take it from them, not crusading politicians, not murdering fanatics…no one.
Although now psyching himself up, although now also feeding off the energy of those around him, feeling less uneasy, less anxious, he still covers the distance between himself and Babylon more slowly then might have been expected and when he reaches the corner, with Babylon just at the end of the next block, he slows, he stops, he leans against a pole, and he remembers too much. The lights change two, maybe three times, until finally someone, a pretty club boy on the verge of becoming a sparkling queen, notices him, and taking his hand, he drags Justin along with, “Come on sweetie, the party’s over here, come with me.” Gently he pulls Justin across the street and down the next block, toward the sidewalk leading into the alleyway.
And Justin goes with him because, really, what else is there for him to do.
But when they get close, close enough to start moving through the tightly packed alley toward the end of the line, he is recognized…by Jake the bouncer, working the door. “Justin,” Jake summons him, gesturing him to come.
He lets go of his new friend, telling him, “Find me inside,” knowing he won’t and his new friend grins at him, giving him a quick kiss, telling him, “Sure, sweetie, I’ll find you,” but also knowing he won’t. He goes to his friends waiting impatiently for him further down the line while Justin goes to Jake waiting patiently for him by the door.
Jake tells him, “You can go on in, baby, go ahead,” and he also grins at Justin while continuing to card and admit…card and admit…card and admit the seemingly never-ending line of party-goers. “I thought the boss wasn’t expecting you, though? What was it? Somethin’ about an opening that could not be missed, right? Compounded by…illness? I distinctly recall him sayin’ somethin’ about you not being able to attend our fabulous reopening which, I have to admit, I found to be very sad.”
“Oh you did, did you?” Justin laughingly questions him.
“Yes, yes I did,” Jake solemnly assures him.
So Justin grins right back at him and then shaking his head in further reply, tells him, “No, the boss isn’t expecting me, kind of a surprise…I guess. Glad to see you here though. You good?”
“Could not be better, Justin, could not be better. I’m just glad Brian hired me back, four months away from here was…difficult.”
“I can imagine.”
“Yeah, well say what you will but without Babylon…man,” and he sighs his annoyance just remembering it and then, instantly perking up, continuing with, “And now look, the place is packed…” they both glance at the crowd around them as if to confirm his assertion, “And let me tell you, it is amazing how many people are trying to get in here tonight, and some of them are…get this,” him coming into Justin all close and secretive-like, “Straight…couples.”
“Nooo?" Justin questions him.
“Believe it,” Jake assures him, “It is fucking fabulous, Justin, it really is.”
“It really is,” Justin murmurs but mostly to the doorway just in front of him, the doorway answering him only with bass rhythms and vibrating lights and he hesitates again but this time Jake’s there to take notice.
“Don’t worry Justin, there’s nothin’ to worry about, really. Nothing like that’s ever gonna happen here again…I swear. Look, I promised Brian and now I’m promising you, you believe me…don‘t ya?”
He gives Justin a gentle push from behind causing him to do a little spin back toward him, his hands thrown out in mock-defeat, “Okay, okay,” he laugh-tells Jake, “I’m goin’, I’m goin’, see me go?”
And he does. Smiling, Jake watches as he disappears through the doorway into Babylon come alive.
He stops just inside that doorway, safe within Brian’s meticulously rewoven state-of-the-art cocoon and he feels…he sees…he breathes in their beautiful, beautiful world.
He feels it as iridescent snow twirls from the darkened ceiling, as it falls lightly over the club boys and buffed-out hunks and sparkling queens below, soft touches on their skin before landing in drifts across the floor.
He see it as lights shimmer in reflection in the mirrors and bright-colored bottles behind the bar where the bartenders whirl and dance, black-silhouettes against turquoise and orange panels of light, as the music etches itself into their very DNA, he’s sure it will. That fucking thumpa-thumpa, he knows they must hear it in their dreams because he sure-as-shit knows he does.
And he breathes it in, the warm smell of sex and need, the sharp smell of alcohol and lust, the sweet smell of cologne and longing.
And when he sees him, when he sees Brian up on a platform, time slows, maybe almost stops. His awareness becomes narrow, focused, everyone else around him just so much ambiance and he finds himself breathing in time to the swaying of Brian’s hips…hips sway soft back and forth, he breathes soft in and out…back and forth, in and out…connected as Brian dances…as he dances above all the rest…as he dances all alone.
His head’s thrown back in abandon, his eyes just barely open, his arms stretched out before him, hands laid one over the other with fingers snapping. He’s bathed in golden light and Justin gasps quietly from within as he remembers, how could he ever forget--just how beautiful Brian really is.
And still he dances alone, laser-lights fanning out just above him, his arms cutting through the arrow-straight lines of grass-green whenever he stretches them languid over his head. He dances alone but not for long. Soon enough, a red-haired twink works up the courage to climb up behind him, wrapping his arms around Brian, swaying his hips in time to Brian’s hips, in time to Justin’s breathing, and they both let him. He holds the twink’s arms across his chest as, at least for a while, the boy dances draped along Brian’s back until eventually Brian turns to him, whispering soft in his ear, words only the boy hears and he smiles to Brian, kissing him quick and then, jumping down from the platform into the arms of his friends, he knows that his time above all the rest is over.
Justin understands that this has been going on all night and so he moves on, he moves as a shadow on the edges of the celebrating crowd and he watches, all fear forgotten.
At least for now. It’s the same, this Babylon and it’s not. They’re all the same but then again, they’re really not either, Babylon’s newer with cutting-edge security, they’re wiser with the scars to prove it and so the beat goes on as he moves for a while and then leaning,as he watches for a while, the pattern repeated again and again.
And so the game plays on.
Up the stairs and along the three-sided catwalk, always in the shadows, never in the light, Justin’s pulse keeps time to the never-ending rhythm and his eyes never leave Brian as, time after time, would-be seducers try to stake their claim. And as time after time, they’re refused. Brian gives a little, just so much and when they want more, when they whisper around his ear, into his hair, words they hope will win him, he tells them to go. The Brian of five years ago would have just told them all to ‘fuck-off’…no…actually the Brian of five years ago would’ve had his dick sucked three times by now and would’ve fucked at least two sweet asses. But Justin knows this isn’t that Brian, this is someone changed. They all leave, if not that satisfied then at least not that wounded, his would-be seducers, he’s letting them go easy but he is letting them go just the same and Justin can’t help but wonder why.
He continues the path of his quest down the length of the catwalk, along one side, along the second, along the third, always watching him and he just can’t help but wonder why.
And then it’s Michael’s time to join Brian on the platform. Justin watches him as he moves from Ben to Brian, Brian reaching down to help him up and with him, he really dances, his bare arms lie easily over Michael’s shoulders, their foreheads brought together with soft smiles exchanged. For one song, for two, then into a third they dance until finally Brian whispers softly in his ear words Michael already knows and he laughs. Brian gives him a sweet kiss and then, jumping down, Michael moves his way back into Ben’s arms, once more just a part of the crowd.
He switches focus occasionally, watching their friends for seconds at a time but not often, he finds it’s too difficult to keep his mind anywhere else but on Brian. And when he does, with mind-numbing frequency, refocuses from Ted and Blake or Michael and Ben or Emmett back to Brian, he half-expects each time to find him gone, he half-expects each time to find him dragging some warm willing twink to the backroom but instead each time he finds him still there and Justin’s confusion grows.
It‘s just so fucking weird.
Because changed or not, the man still has his needs.
Yet Justin waits, he waits his time, wanting just the right song to be thmpa-thumping out of the state-of-the-art sound system and when that just-right song fills the room, pulsing off every surface and into every body, he knows the time has come to make his presence known, the time has come for him to move from the shadows into the light.
He’s already, if not conquered his fear, then at least confronted it.
He’s already been a part of the celebration of the rebirth of an icon.
So now he just has to stake his claim.
With the voice of Heather Small singing, “What have you done today to make you feel proud?” surrounding him, he makes his way down the stairs to the floor stopping just on the edge of the crowd in front of him so he can gauge his way through what has become the epitome of boys gone wild, everyone sweaty and horny, drunk and charged, everyone knowing the end is near…it’s closing time.
Brian always used to close Babylon to ‘Proud’ and, apparently that’s a tradition he’s planning on keeping in place, some things must remain the same, some things are not meant to change.
But when they see him, they move aside for him because they know…they know that without a doubt, he’s the one Brian’s been waiting for.
He’s the young King Arthur come to pull Excalibur from the stone, the only one, at least for this night, who can.
He climbs up behind him, wrapping strong arms around him and Brian holds on, holds his arms across his chest…just like with all the others. But now it’s their hips that sway together, it’s now their breathing that moves in and out together, now they’re connected as they dance above all the rest.
Brian murmurs all warm and needing, “Ummhh, yeah, that feels good…ohgodyeah…so good,” and as his voice drifts to silence, his head dipping back onto Justin’s shoulder, his eyes remain softly closed as he wonders, with just a hint of irritation, “What the fuck took you so long? I was just about to find some….”
“The fuck you say,” and Justin jostles him, “You did not know it was me,” and he laughs into his hair, “And you didn’t know I was here.”
“Yeah, well…what was it you said on the phone last night? Oh yeah, yeah, I remember, I remember. You said that you had ‘the worst case of the flu ever known to man.’ Let’s just say your little acting job just wasn’t all that…convincing. I had my…doubts.”
“I was perfection and you know it,” Justin retorts with a highly refined sense of indignation. “You so believed me,” he sing-songs mockingly.
“Like hell I did,” and Brian laughs at the absurdity of Justin‘s mocking.
“The hell you didn’t.” But when Brian turns in his arms, grabbing him up, holding him tight against him, kissing him hard and complete and just a little desperate, Justin knows Brian’s uncertainty. He thinks maybe he did know he was lying, he just didn’t know why and Brian being Brian, he thought the worst. Well, maybe not the worst but definitely not the truth. Brian didn’t know he was coming and his relief is something that can be smelled and tasted and touched…at least by him. Justin knows the texture and nuances of all of Brian’s insecurities…intimately.
And Brian continues, “Plus…Jake may have mentioned something to Michael and well…need I say more.”
“Fuck…that's just not fair, kind of a conspiracy or something but…well, anyway…anyway, sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, I was sick just not…” he tries to make it up.
“Shit…and I’ve kissed that mouth, if I get some disgusting disease I swear I’ll…”
“You’ll what, huh? What’ll you do? Fuck me into oblivion ‘cause, if that’s the case, then…” but Brian stops him from finishing his thought with another kiss, just as hungry as the first and Justin lets him.
And trying to have the last word, Brian questions, “And just what the fuck makes you think I’d worry…huh?”
“Nothing, Brian,” Justin whispers, “I know you never worry about me,” his lips just lightly touching the skin of Brian‘s throat, “Now do you?” he questions, with just a hint of snark.
Brian does a soft snort, “No need, I’ve raised you well,” and he murmurs, “I know you can take care of yourself.”
“Yeah well…perhaps but,” and Justin pauses for effect, “Not as well as…you can, no one takes care of me the way you do,” which gets him another kiss and a gentle slap on his ass.
He only just hears Brian’s retort of, “Yeah, I’ll just bet.”
And so the song ends, the club lights flash on and off and everyone reluctantly stops dancing. They’re all vaguely dazed and noticeably pissed-off at having their fabulous night come to an end. Nonetheless they begin their mass exodus for the door…time to go home…there‘s always tomorrow.
Brian pulls him down from the platform and, leaning back against it, he brings Justin up tight in his arms again and, cupping the back of his head, with their mouths just a milli-inch apart, he asks, “Got a place to stay, you know, for tonight?” Brian then flicks his tongue out, licking his lips and he pretend-bites at it, missing but not by too much.
Pulling back from Brian, grinning, he tells him, “I had thought I might, you know, stay at the loft?”
“Oh is that right? And so…what? You think every time you just come waltzing into town you’re gonna find shelter in my bed…”
“Yeah, yeah that’s exactly what I think, you gotta problem with that? ‘Cause if you…”
“Justin…?”
“No…seriously, if you’ve got a problem with…”
“Justin!”
“What?”
“Let’s go home…humm?”
“Well…alright…fine…if you really think…”
“Justin!”
“Yeah!?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
And genius that he is, he does.
So, after Brian makes sure Babylon is taken care of for the night, they go back to the loft where they fuck like rabbits and in a year or two, when Brian finally leaves Pittsburgh behind, they will live happily ever after…in New York.
The End
So what have you done today to make you feel proud?
I look into the window of my mind
Reflections of the fears I know I've left behind
I step out of the ordinary
I can feel my soul ascending
I am on my way
Can't stop me now
And you can do the same
Heather Small - “Proud”