Episode 6.03 - Part TWO (revised)
The staff kitchen at Kinnetik is relatively empty these days. The former pulsing point of socializing has involuntarily mutated into a place of hectic passage.
You see, the CEO, the unrestricted ruler around here, has been working himself into a frenzy lately and seems to expect everyone around him to keep up. As a result, the employees don’t have room, time-wise, to pencil in unscheduled coffee breaks or much of a break in general. There are only two people in the building who can presume taking such liberties as taking breaks on their own time, questioning Mr. Kinney on specific things or - god forbid - proctorizing him. Ted and Cynthia are leaning against the counter in the kitchen, both slurping their third cup of coffee today.
“If I’d figure out how to do it without burning myself, I swear I’d be having sex with this cup of coffee right now.” Cynthia announces. After letting another sip of the hot liquid chase down her throat, she asks, “So? Anything new from Devenport Pharmaceuticals? We talked about you keeping an eye on that account, remember? I just have this really bad feeling about that asshole Mason.”
Ted sighs. “Actually, I’m afraid, Devenport himself is not amused. I was on the phone with him this morning.”
“Devenport is now something like the partner of Remson, right? Shit, Ted, what’s happening?”
“I-I don’t… I don’t know yet!” Ted stutters his reply. “I mean, if Devenport goes and rats on us, I don’t have a clue how Remson will react.” He slowly lifts his head and meets Cynthia’s open-mouthed, scare-shocked expression. “Well, let’s not paint it all too black now, right?” He offers an intendedly confident smile and plants his cup a little too hard on the counter. As he starts walking out of the kitchen he adds, “By the way, I think it’s best if we don’t tell Brian about this just yet. There’s a chance that it’ll all play out good, so no reason to burden him additionally. He’s got enough on his plate right now.” Cynthia nods sadly in agreement. “He really is a wreck,” Ted mumbles. “It’s hard watching him like that.”
“Tell me about it!” his female co-worker interjects. “He’s popping coffee like some caffeine junkie; I can barely keep up with the making! He’s working himself into madness, but would he listen?” The rhetorical question follows a simultaneous “Tss” from both parties. “He has me calling the hospital at least four times a day to check up on Justin. The nurses tell me he’s there every day after work for a few hours, sometimes even in the morning.”
“You’d think Brian Kinney caring this much would have to be a good thing, but as it is, it’s unhealthy what he’s doing. I’ve never seen him like this before. I’m gonna go talk to him!” Ted decides.
Cynthia almost chokes on her coffee. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Well, what’s the alternative?” Ted shrugs. “Watching him get more depressed and desperate by the day?”
“As much as I support your concern, have you forgotten what happened to me the last time I tried to get him to talk?”
“I know, he cut your holiday time short.”
“Damn right he did! God, I could -” She successfully calms herself again. “Anyway, if you want to hold on to that Caribbean holiday you are planning with Blake, you’d better keep the help to a subtle minimum.”
Ted nods and walks off.
…
The knock on the door kicks Brian out of his working stupor. “Come in,” he says, slightly annoyed already.
Ted enters the office, keeping his smile light. “Hey, Brian!” A good, neutral greeting, he thinks. In the same instant he could slap himself for his naivety. It doesn’t matter what type of greeting he offers, his boss would interpret it however the hell he pleased.
“Theodore!” Brian says, finally granting Ted a look while closing a thick file. “You look particularly enchanting today. How can I help you?” he asks with what can only be the falsest grin you’re going to see on this side of Hollyweird.
‘Ooooh, careful there,’ Ted reminds himself, knowing and fearing this attitude. “Actually, you can’t. I was rather wondering if maybe I could be of help.”
“Oh? Well that’s a respectable attitude, Theodore.” Oh oh, more to come. Brian glances up from his papers to throw at poor Ted, “Considering you are working here and paid to do that.”
There was just no chance in hell of winning this, so Ted resigns to trying a different path. “I just wanted to see how you are and if -”
“Thank you, Theodore, I’m doing just fine. No need to extend your scope of duties. Anything else?”
How was that? ‘f.i.n.e.’ as in ‘fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional?’ Ted forces the thought away and concentrates on the task at hand, getting Brian to talk about his feelings. Right. Ha ha. “Come on, Brian, we think you need to talk!”
“We? Oh, you and your little imaginary friend?” Brian states, pointedly looking past Ted. “Are you at that age now where having one is okay again?”
“I was referring to me and the not-so-imaginary Cynthia.”
“Oh, so now my employees discuss my private life?”
“We are your friends and we’re worried!” Ted insists, knowing full well that their relationship has grown way past superficial.
“’bout what?”
“About you, of course!”
Brian throws himself back into his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you here again?”
Ted throws his hands up in the air. “Right! Just play it the asshole way!”
“Only way I can keep my high scores.” Brian smirks.
“BRI-AN!” Ted persists. The hell with the Caribbean cruise!
“What the fuck, Schmidt? There is absolutely no need to worry, I’m doing fucking fine and you are going to find something useful to do now. This conversation - whatever it is - is over!”
“Brian, let me help you! If you want to talk, I -”
“I don’t!”
“Brian,” Ted sits down on one of the chairs, leaning closer. “As your friend and financial advisor - Okay, so that one doesn’t really count for anything right now, I just like the way it sounds -” A loud and annoyed huff from Brian causes him to quickly complete his original thought. “Anyway, it bothers me to see something bothering you this much. I want to -”
Brian pushes himself out of the chair and turns away. “Hear that I feel shitty? Miserable? Exhausted? Know what?” He quickly glances to Ted over his shoulder. “That’s exactly how I feel! So much for your analysis.” He gives a tired wave of the hand. “Now go and put someone else on the couch.”
Ignoring the last comment and registering the gaping leak in Brian’s defences, Ted dares to make a suggestion. “Then, why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
“Why the fuck does everyone keep telling me that?! Christ!”
Ted just stares at him while Brian calms himself. Smirking, he notices how Brian makes his way over to his sofa and lies down, oblivious to earlier statements.
Closing his eyes, Brian mumbles, “Every time I lie down, it all crashes down on me. It’s like managing to balance everything out with the workload and then suddenly having the scale tip over and all the shit it’s been holding buries you underneath.” Wow. If this wasn’t so damn tragic, Ted would totally call Brian on the emotional depth of his words.
Brian opens his eyes all of the sudden and fixes them on Ted. “You know what they always say about thinking positive and you’ll get through?” Ted nods. “I’m really trying to do that, hammering it into my head… The thing is, once I got that covered, I feel like - like it’s my fault. That it should be me lying there instead. I remember that the last time I spoke to him I was bitching around on the phone because he wasn’t able to be here last weekend.” He rubs his hands over his face and sits up after. “They have these partially see-through walls there and every time I’m standing there, it costs me such a great deal of conquest to go in. I know it’s a different room and everything, but I’ll be damned if this doesn’t look exactly the same… same as back then. I go in now, but still, there’s a fucking glass wall that hinders me from getting through, even though I’m sitting right next to him. Even though I’m mustering up the balls to go through the door every day, leaving the visible glass wall behind, the invisible one remains. And every goddamn time, it’s reminding me of my helplessness, of my not-being able to do anything. The awareness of what I could lose is all-present and it’s just - it’s …” He shakes his head in disgust. “Fuck, listen to me! I sound like some hobby lyricist writing for a trashy magazine!”
Ted has been hanging on every word and is once again surprised by how much love and concern the little insight he is granted shows. “Bri,” he starts, sitting down on the sofa and putting a hand on his boss’ shoulder. “He’ll wake up. Hell, I did! The circumstances weren’t all I expected but hey, I’m not complaining!” He grins and watches Brian for a reaction. He doesn’t get one. “Look, blaming yourself is really unproductive. As is shutting yourself off from everything else. You’re there for him. That’s all you really can do.”
In a low voice - completely unlike his usual tone - Brian starts, “When you -”
Cynthia interrupts, having chosen that moment to rush into the office.
“You!” Brian screams at her. “Out!”
Cynthia’s eyes widen at the command. Not that she isn’t used to being treated like this; it is the extreme urgency in his voice that has her a little shocked. With a final incredulous look at Ted she turns on her heels and is out the door.
Letting his eyes follow the pattern of the floor, Brian continues, “When you were… you know, did you get anything? I mean, did you hear anything, noticed if somebody was there?”
Ted thinks about that. “I think I did. In a subconscious way, but nevertheless.” He gives Brian what he hopes is a comforting smile.
“You better be right,” Brian huffs and stands up, indicating that this is the actual end of their conversation.
This time Ted doesn’t object.
□□□
Once having been his safe place, his retreat, the loft now doesn’t feel safe terrain in any way. Current feelings where Brian’s home is concerned don’t have much to do with relaxation or peace. The trap that is his home now, seems to catch him from the point he enters, to the second he firmly shuts the door while heading out again. Trapped in memories, in fear, in agony. The infinite loop that is his current state of mind.
Since Mikey left fifteen minutes ago, Brian has been hearing the silence echo back from the walls surrounding him. He turns on the radio. Listening to music is something he’s been doing a lot lately. Well, it serves the purpose, at least a little.
Switching positions on the sofa, he toys with his cowry shell bracelet. When Michael asked him earlier why he’s been wearing it these past days, he didn’t have a real answer. A couple of days ago, when he ruffled through his cabinets during desperate distraction attempts and came up with the bracelet, he kicked back and let his mind wander through memories surrounding said item.
He was still in college when he got it. He and two other guys he met on campus decided to celebrate their now ‘settled’ sexuality in great style and went on a ‘fucking vacation’ to Mexico. Thinking about it now, Brian owes thanks to whatever higher beings there are that he is still alive today. The vast amounts of drugs and number of encounters with anonymous men could’ve easily killed him in some way.
After the ‘fucking adventure’, he decided to give his two ‘friends’ the ex though. Turned out those two were only bearable when tripping and the most uninteresting people when sober.
On their last day in Mexico, he went to a market near their piss poor excuse for a hotel. He wanted to escape the company of the two freaks for one more precious hour before they were headed to the airport and he had to spend the next five hours on the plane with them. Wandering through the market stands, something caught his eye. As he went closer he examined a corny-looking bracelet that was dangling on some sort of fixing. It had about ten cowry shells lined up vertically, bound together by a black thread. For some reason, he found himself extremely attached to that piece of tourist knick-knack, like it was hanging there only for him to see.
An old lady came to stand next to him. “Have you found what you were looking for?” she asked in heavy Spanish accent.
He declined that he was looking for anything, but at the same time couldn’t bring himself to fully turn away from the object he was transfixed on.
“Everybody is looking for something,” she insisted confidently, looking him deep in the eye.
He thought about what was inclined with this trip and came to realize that he really had been searching for something. He wanted to see if he was able to put the ‘Am I gay?’ Brian behind - let’s face it; you can’t fully declare yourself ultimately gay after a one time hand job with your best friend and one blowjob - and oppose his life in a new reality.
And actually, he found just that. He found who he is. Gay to the last particle, and that’s what he needed to know, needed to feel confirmed, though maybe not quite knowingly.
Having watched Brian and his mind hard at work, the market lady plucked the bracelet from its affixing, took his hand and put it on him. Usually hating any kind of jewelry, Brian marvelled at how right and smooth the shells felt against his wrist.
As he reached back for his wallet, the lady shook her head emphatically. “Esto es un regalo!” she declared, enclosing his hand with hers.
Thanking her, he left the little market place and went to collect his companions at the hotel. They may have been useless, but they were the ones who made him go here after all, so technically he had to thank them. Not that he would actually do that, of course.
Now, he can’t even remember the names of his two fellow travellers. To this day though, he is able to recall the face of the old lady who gave him the bracelet.
Ten years went by without him ever taking the thing off for a longer span of time than maybe a shower, not much thinking about the bracelet’s history anymore, but having built some sort of emotional connection to it, when suddenly he came along.
They’d only known each other for a couple of weeks when Justin started asking about the bracelet and its origin. He was relentless in finding out the meaning behind it - which he was certain there was -, hence he was the only one who Brian ever told the story of Mexico.
And then… Remember the little shit that is his nephew? He fucking stole it. Right before he accused Brian of molesting him. Anyway, who brought it back to him? Justin. Always Justin, being the only one who understood its meaning, probably even more so than Brian himself.
Somewhere along the Ethan episode though, it became too much looking at it every day and he stashed it away. It had too much of Justin now, too much of himself. It should rot somewhere where he couldn’t see it, somewhere in the depths of his cabinets, along with his insides.
After the glorious reunion of Brian and Justin, he’d all but forgotten about the bracelet. He didn’t need it. He knew who he was, who he wanted to be. And he had Justin, that’s all there was; all he needed.
Confrontation with the bracelet at the present time, seems a bit more difficult.
With Justin not literally being gone, but still, not fully with him, he needs something to remind him who he is again, something he can hold on to. If Justin - No! When Justin wakes up, only then he would get rid of it again. Only then he wouldn’t need it anymore.
When…
”I need some sleep,
time to put the old horse down…”
What is it with radio stations? You turn the fucking thing on to - best case scenario - reach some level of distraction and suddenly, you end up listening to some schmoopy song and being more depressed than before. Well, in some fucked up way it’s actually soothing.
He hasn’t been this tired and exhausted in his entire life. Going to bed isn’t really an option though. As much as he’s been trying, sleep just wouldn’t come.
“I’m in too deep
and the wheels keep spinning ‘round…”
Brian gets up and starts yet another round of wandering around the loft aimlessly, forcing himself not to reach the brink of sanity tonight and pushing away the seemingly nearing breakdown.
“Everyone says I’m getting down too low…”
“Everyone says, "You just gotta let it go"…”
He pours himself some Jim, not wasting precious room with ice. Chasing down the content of the glass, he switches on the TV. Not a minute has gone by when he switches it off again, stands up and makes his way up to the bedroom. He falls down on the bed, exhausted, tired. Stretching his limbs away from him, he faces the ceiling but his eyes are closed.
"You just gotta let it go…”
As his eyes open again, they’ve transformed to shiny pools. Brian curls up on his side. This time, he doesn’t bother forcing the tears away.
“…I just gotta let it go.”
□□□
A/N: "Esto es un regalo!" = “That’s a present!” in Spanish.
(Thanks go out to my lovely Poil, who - with that one sentence - saved me from completely humiliating myself with my obviously really bad Spanish.)
Lyrics from “I need some Sleep” by Eels.
-> 6.03/part 3