Title: Changes, Part 13/? (You & Me-Series)
Author:
soulmatejunkee Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: Post 5.13; POV's
Word Count: 3.225
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. It’s all CowLip and Showtime.
Beta: My lovely
mander3_swish - thank you :)
As always: Every comment is welcome. I Love to read what you think. Thanks!
01.
Listen to me02.
Trust me03. Babylon
Part 1 |
Part 204. Find a way
Part 1 |
Part 2 |
Part 3 |
Part 405.
...remember what's missing?06.
The Party07. Thanksgiving
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10 08. 1 wedding, 4 rings...
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1209.
The first Webcam Sex Chat10.
The first call11. Expectations -
Happy Valentine |
Revenge12.
March 18th 200613. Aftermath -
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814.
Be careful what you wish for15. Changes -
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13 Justin's POV
I waited. I had no idea for what, he had told me that he wouldn’t come home, so there was no reason to wait for him, but I did it anyway. I waited in the kitchen, I waited in the living room, I waited under spray of the shower, and then I waited in bed. It was only 11pm. It felt weird to be in the bed alone. I had never been alone in the house during night, in the bed, yes, like when he had ditched me while I had the flu during the summer a few years ago, but I’ve never had been alone in the house. It felt wrong even though I knew it would happen more often in the future; not just when Brian felt like fucking someone else, but he would also be away on business trips.
I sighed and leaned against the pillow. I wasn’t tired, I was angry and I was disappointed, but I couldn’t even say if I was more angry at him or myself. I knew this would happen and I had told him that I was okay with it, so it was not fair to be pissed about it. But I never expected it to happen so soon.
I winced when my cell phone rang and grabbed it, just to sigh again when I saw the ID and realized that it wasn’t Brian. It was Michael. At 11pm?!
“Michael,” I answered the call.
“Hey, I’m sorry I’m calling so late, but I can’t reach Brian. He shut his phone off and I don’t have your number… at the house, so… is he still awake? Can I talk to him?”
He sounded worried, he sounded pitiful.
“He’s not here. He wanted to go out tonight: Woody’s and Babylon.”
“And you let him go alone?” Now he sounded reproachful.
“Who am I, his mother?” What the fuck? The last thing I needed was someone who reminded me that my boyfriend didn’t want me around on only the second night I was back home.
“Mh… I… don’t know what to say.” Now he sounded confused.
And I was confused, too. Why would Michael call so late just to blame me for not following Brian to Woody’s and Babylon? Why would he call so late and sound so fucking pitiful?
“Michael, why did you call?” I asked him. “I mean… what happened?”
“Well, calling him was the least I could do after I heard about it.”
“Heard about what?”
“That his mother died.”
I closed my eyes. “That his mother died.“ I repeated Michaels words. “Oh my god.”
“You had no idea, did you?”
“No, I had no idea.” I got out of bed in two seconds and grabbed my clothes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know, I thought he told you.”
“Yeah, one would think that.” I sat down on the bed again. Maybe there was a reason that he didn’t tell me. Maybe there was a reason why he didn’t want me to be there, maybe he didn’t need me - maybe he needed Michael. After all, Michael was his best friend and knew his parents. “Who told you?”
“I met Ted at Woody’s and he told me that Claire had been at Kinnetik this morning and that they had an argument, a pretty loud one and everybody heard it and then Brian left.”
So Brian hadn’t called Michael either. Fuck, I had no idea what to do!
“But he wasn’t at Woody’s when you were there?” I asked him.
“No, he wasn’t. You know him; you know his pain management techniques, right? I just wanted to know if he’s all right.”
It was too early to be at Babylon already so he had to be somewhere else. I needed to be with him. Even though he didn’t want me there, I had to be there. Even if all I could do was to tell him that I was there, even if he would only push me away.
“His mom… I only met her once, I don’t know…”
“Neither do I,” Michael said. “He never talked about her. It was always all about his dad. His mom never did anything. All he ever told me was that she drank too much and that… she’s cold hearted. But that’s it.”
I nodded. A stupid thing to do, he couldn’t see it. “I’ll find him.”
“Let me know if you need anything okay? No matter what time it is.”
“Sure. Thanks.” I still had no idea what to do. I even expected myself to call Michael sooner or later, simply because he was the one who knew Brian since he was a kid, he knew about his childhood, his parents and how much they sucked. I only heard about it, but Brian never talked about them or his sister or how they lived when he was younger.
I got dressed and grabbed the car keys - I got myself a brand new dark red Mini Cooper. It was my first car that was all mine and so of course I fucking loved it. Brian didn’t. He called it a shoe box and refused to drive with me so far. I knew he would change his mind sooner or later, but I decided to let him rant for a while. He had wanted me to buy a Jeep Wrangler, the same as what he once had. Not that I wouldn’t have loved to have a Jeep, but as soon as I saw the red Mini Cooper I totally fell in love.
Anyway, I grabbed the keys and ran down the stairs, took my cell phone and dialed Brian’s number. In the next moment the door opened and he came in, with his cell phone in his hand, and stopped when he saw me. I guess one look from me was enough for him to know that I knew what had happen.
And there I was, still not knowing what to do. I was happy to see him, he came home, he didn’t go to Babylon, but still… Brian never had been the guy who was easy to care of. He normally played it cool, especially in front of me. The only time he gave in was when he had cancer and I really didn’t give him a choice in the matter.
I put my cell phone aside and walked over to him.
“Where were you going?” he asked. His voice was quiet.
“To find you,” I answered and took his hand, relieved that he let me do it. “Michael called and told me about your mother and I wanted to find you because no matter what you think or do, I wanted you to know that I’ll be here if you need me. And if you need Michael… we should call him.”
He kept looking at me. I tried not to look too pitying because I knew he hated it. I’m not sure if it worked, but so far he hadn’t pushed me away and hadn’t told me that it was Michael he needed.
“Want to talk about her?”
He shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. She died last week because alcohol induced cirrhosis of the liver.”
I just nodded. “When’s the funeral?”
Now he laughed, somehow and shook his head while he pushed my hand and pulled me with him upstairs. “The funeral was last Friday.”
“What?” I followed him. “What… the fuck…?”
“My sister wasn’t able to find me and I hadn’t been at the loft for a while, so I didn’t get her messages.”
How stupid was his sister? Brian Kinney was easy to find if you knew how to use Google. So… obviously she didn’t really want to find him.
“Guess it’s easier to blame me when I’m not around,” he mumbled. “But then… they never had a problem blaming me whether I was around or not.”
He pulled me into the bedroom and onto the bed. He was still holding my hand, but he didn’t look at me. He laid down on his back and closed his eyes.
“Of course, I’m allowed to pay for the fucking funeral.”
I put my free hand on his chest. “Brian…”
He laid his free hand over mine. “Can we please… can we… not talk?”
His eyes were still closed and he was holding both of my hands and it didn’t seem that he wanted to let me go.
“Sure,” I said and laid down beside him. I just watched him. I knew he wasn’t asleep and I knew it was sort of out of character for him to be here, with me, instead of fucking his brains out in order to forget or to ignore what had happened. I wondered how he ended up coming back home, but of course I didn’t say anything. I was glad he was here with me and that he let me be with him.
I never saw him cry. I’ve seen him being sad and helpless, but he never really cries in front of me. It was probably one of his stupid pride things. He was the older one and when we first met he also was the stronger one, at least that how it seemed to be. He knew more about life and gay life than me, and he became my mentor, so to speak; especially in the beginning when we were still far from being partners. Sometimes it seemed like he still saw me like that: the kid he brought home that night, the kid he could easily impress with simply everything he said and did. You don’t break down in front of someone who - at least once - looked up to you.
I still do look up to him. He’s still very impressive, but through all those years he became also more human to me and we became more equal. I knew he wasn’t always strong, I knew he was vulnerable and insecure. I learned my lessons. But since he has never talked to me about his childhood and his parents, it was practically impossible for me to completely understand why he thought and acted the way he did. Why he was so fucking unpredictable from time to time and why he tended to push people away instead of trusting them to not be disappointed in him when he wasn’t as strong as he wanted to be.
After almost fifteen minutes, he pulled his hand away from mine, which was still lying on his chest, and put it over his eyes. And then I saw some tears. I didn’t move, he was still holding my other hand and I was still touching him. I wanted to do more, but I was afraid that if I started to push him to open up completely he would totally shut down.
His hand was still over his eyes when he said: “The last time I saw my mother… she told me that god gave me cancer to punish me because I was gay and that I would burn in hell.”
Wow, this woman really knew how to hurt her son. I swallowed.
I moved closer to him and leaned my head against his. I didn’t let go of his hand. “You know, my grandmother always said that she doesn’t want to go to heaven when she dies because all the interesting people would end up in hell for their evils simply because no one is perfect. She always wanted to meet John F. Kennedy. So, if you want to meet James Dean one day, a guy who drank and took drugs, who lived on the very sunny side of life for a short while, and I know you want to meet him, you’re absolutely going the right way.”
It took him a few seconds, but then he started laughing. I knew it wasn’t an honest laugh, he was upset, he was sad, probably angry and for sure disappointed that he had such shitty parents, but he didn’t push me away. He seemed to finally accept that no matter if he broke down or not, I wouldn’t leave him nor would I stop loving him or start seeing him as a wimp.
He let go of my hand and turned around so that we were lying face to face. He still had tears in his eyes when he leaned forward and kissed me, softly, no tongue. It was weird, but all I could think was that he hadn’t fucked someone else, that he hadn’t been at Woody’s or at Babylon because I would smell it.
He put his hand on my cheek and kept his lips close to mine, we didn’t really kiss; it seemed that he just wanted to be close, to keep contact.
“I love you,” I whispered on his lips. “I really love you.”
He didn’t answer; he just kissed me again, softly. I didn’t need him to answer; I just needed him to know and to believe me.
“I never wanted to be like him,” he then said with a broken voice. He had that tone, too, when he told me that he wanted to change his life if he survived cancer. It sounded so vulnerable. “I hated him.”
“Why do you think you are like him?” I rubbed my nose against his.
“That’s what I’ve been told since I remember.” He sighed quietly. “You’re just like me, son. We’re not family men. I never should have a family. And my mother totally agreed with him. You’re just like your father, totally selfish. All you care about is yourself.” He looked at me, almost scared. “I never wanted to be like them.”
“You aren’t.” Good god, what kind of people were they? Did they ever say anything nice to their kids? “I wish I could say something to make you stop believing their bullshit because they obviously had no idea who you really are.”
But now I knew why it was so important for him to be perfect and why he fought so fucking hard against love, marriage, family, and a monogamous relationship. It hadn’t worked for his father and since they always told him that he was exactly like his father had been, what else than fighting against simply everything that man had impersonated - an unsuccessful married guy with a family, caught in a supposed-monogamous relationship that was also supposed to be built on love, and on top of that he was full of regrets - could he do?
And how helpless must he have felt when he realized that he was in love, despite of the fact that he was always told that love wasn’t meant for him? He never had the chance to figure out what he really wanted and who he really wanted to be.
“I’m sorry you didn’t have a chance to talk to her before she died,” I said. “And I’m also sorry that I never had a chance to talk to her, which would’ve been fun!”
He laughed briefly. “I’m sure she would’ve loved to pray for your lost soul, too.”
“Forlorn hope.”
“Good.”
He fell asleep a few minutes later and I pulled the duvet over us before I turned off the alarm so that he would sleep as long as necessary. I was sure Ted and Cynthia would take care of Kinnetik for the time being, and even though Brian probably wouldn’t agree with me, he had to accept it.
Brian's POV
When I woke up it was very bright in the room. I blinked a few seconds and moaned. Why the fuck was I still wearing my pants and my shirt and my shoes? It felt totally uncomfortable.
“Good morning.”
I blinked again and saw Justin sitting beside me, his laptop in front of him. He was working… in bed? What the fuck?
But then it came back, all of it: Claire, my mom, Debbie, the loft, Justin… last night. He put the laptop down and moved closer to me. I felt his hand on my cheek and I closed my eyes again. Did I really drive home instead getting drunk and fucking some nameless trick? Did I really end up here, only to cry in front of him?
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Good.”
“And how do you feel?”
Yeah, how did I feel? I wasn’t sure, I was totally confused. How the fuck did that happen? How the fuck did I become a guy that stopped getting drunk and stopped fucking around? How the fuck did I end up at home, almost sober, but in my suit instead of naked and completely hung-over in the loft?
I felt Justin’s lips on mine, just a soft kiss and I knew that was the answer to all my questions. But unfortunately it didn’t make me feel better in that moment. The opposite, I felt trapped.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Almost noon.”
That woke me up completely and made me fucking angry. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Because I thought you needed some sleep. And yes, I know that you have to work on the campaign for Raymon. I called Ted this morning and he said that he and Cynthia are still busy getting all the details you were asking for and that they would call as soon as they were done.”
“Fuck that, I’m not sick!” I jumped out of the bed. “Stop acting as if I needed a babysitter.”
He sighed and fell on his back, his arms crossed behind his head. “I knew you wouldn’t agree with me, but I wanted you to feel comfortable.”
I looked at him and had problems to breathe. Whatever I felt, it didn’t feel comfortable. I remembered last night, every word that had been spoken. Every fucking word I had told him, things he wasn’t supposed to know. Fuck, being sober sucked. I felt totally exposed.
Justin stood up on the bed. He walked over to me and put his arms on my shoulder. I looked up to him, still unsure of what to say, but I could feel my heart beating faster and not in a good way.
“Do you want to visit her grave?” he asked softly and his fingers touched my lips. “It’s a way to say goodbye.”
It felt like I had a string around my neck that was strangling me and it scared me. I couldn’t stand this, him being so close, me being practically transparent to him. I still could barely breathe. I had to get out of here as soon as possible.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, as loud as my voice let me and got out of his arms.
“Brian…”
“I have to go!”
I grabbed my clothes and practically fled out of the room and the house. I don’t know if he followed me to try to stop me… I couldn’t hear or see anything. It was like a tunnel and I tried to reach the light at the end. I jumped into my car and drove to the loft. I only needed 15 minutes and when I arrived I was still breathless and it felt as if I was carrying a heavy burden with me. I closed the door behind me and I fell against it, slid down and felt the tears running down my face.
TBC