FIC: Grace, Too (QAF)(3/4)
I was going to post this back with the whole WIP amnesty thing, but then I thought Oh no, I still have a chance to finish it, I'll do it, I will - Unfortunately, I believe this is as finished as it will get. Which means there are entire scenes that are missing. Yes, I suck. But all the major parts are there - beginning, middle, end. It's just some of the relationship and character development and other crazy stuff like that which is skipped out on.
Basically, I am posting this for peace of mind, and so I can get rid of one of the twenty gazillion WIPs on my machine.
Previously: part one, part two
Post-414, Brian/Justin, Justin/other. NC-17. [unfinished - a couple missing scenes, unbetaed, etc.] - no S5 spoilers.
“Guess who I’ve been hanging out with?” Justin said.
The line was silent for a moment, then Brian said, “If you say Mary-Kate Olsen, I swear to god -“
“No,” Justin said quickly. “Shut up, you know me better than that.”
“Hollywood warps young impressionable minds all the time, Sunshine.”
“Well, not this one.” Justin walked over to the window and looked out at the sky, wishing the phone had a cord he could fiddle with. “Sam Auerbach.”
Brian said, “Sam whothefuck?”
“Auerbach,” Justin repeated. “The guy who painted that mural in Pittsburgh a few months ago, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” said Brian. “He had an exhibition at Lindsay’s gallery.”
Justin paused, rested his hand on the window frame. The odd tone in Brian’s voice made something stir in the back of his mind.
“That’s right,” he said. “I’d forgotten that.”
“Hmm,” said Brian. “So what else is going on in the merry land of Angels?”
*
“Draw something,” said Sam.
Justin raised an eyebrow. “What do you want me to draw?”
“Anything,” said Sam, and handed him a sketchpad.
“Okay,” Justin grinned. “Then you’ll need to take your clothes off.”
“What are you drawing, my cock?”
“Something like that. Sit down.”
Sam sat on the couch, legs splayed apart, arms hanging loose at his sides. Justin started to sketch, directing Sam to turn his head to the side slightly.
Justin drew, and watched as Sam became lost in thought. Sam’s dick began to fill and harden as Justin sketched the line from his shoulder to his hip.
Justin wondered what Sam was thinking of. Or who. He seemed eased of concentration, eyes half closed. There was an almost wistful distance in his face.
Justin’s hands itched, but he had priorities, damnit. He stepped back and glanced at what he’d drawn so far, a rough outline of Sam’s form. He moved in closer again and looked at Sam’s face, shading in the expression on paper. The slight curve of his stomach. The muscles of his arm. Sam’s cock, thick and semi-erect.
Static image, scrawled lead, and Justin set his pencil down.
He walked over to Sam, carefully, and Sam didn’t even notice the movement until Justin was standing right over him.
“Don’t most models know how to keep their baser bodily functions under control?” Justin said softly.
Sam blinked and shifted, suddenly aware of his aroused state. Before he could respond, Justin dropped to his knees in front of him, taking Sam’s cock between his lips.
Sam started to moan instantly, but bit his lip and fell quiet. But Justin wanted him to make noise.
He scratched his nails up Sam’s thighs, bobbing on Sam’s dick with his mouth, and thought of what Sam must be feeling. Justin’d felt it often enough. Hot, warm, wet. The soft pressure of tongue and palate.
Justin was hard, too. He adjusted himself with one hand.
When Justin craned his gaze up to Sam’s face, he saw that Sam’s eyes were closed tight. His lips were open slightly, and he was starting to make a low, constant noise, saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth and glistening in the hotel room lamplight. Justin ripped his gaze away and continued sucking. No matter how irrational, he wanted Sam to remember this. He wanted to make a mark on him.
He wasn’t sure that he was succeeding.
Justin’s erection waned, simply from how unreal everything seemed. The couch, Sam, and everything, seemed fuzzy around the edges from the light in the room. The way Sam turned his head away, it was like Justin wasn’t even there, like Justin wasn’t even sucking his cock.
But Justin kept mouthing him, and the choked groans and shifting muscle under his lips and hands were the only way Justin could be sure it was happening.
A few minutes later, Sam came, fingers twisting at the fabric of the couch. Justin leaned back and planted a kiss on Sam’s knee.
“Who were you thinking about?” Justin asked, voice lightly teasing.
Sam stared at him a moment, and shook his head. “Fuck you,” he said.
*
Justin called every fifteen minutes until Brian picked up the phone.
“Jesus Christ, Justin,” he said, “I just got in the fucking door. What’s crawled up your ass now?”
“Nothing,” Justin said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
He heard a few muffled thumps, imagined Brian’s expensive shoes hitting the floor roughly. Brian would be toeing off his socks and untying his tie at the same time, exhausted from work, but not tired enough to let on.
Brian didn’t speak for a moment, then said awkwardly, “So... talk.”
“Let me rephrase that,” Justin said. “I wanted to hear your voice.” And he wanted something real.
There was silence for a minute, and then Brian let out a low chuckle.
“Why didn’t you just say you were horny, Sunshine?”
Justin grinned. That hadn’t been exactly why he called, but it was close enough - and applied to the situation more with every passing second.
“Mmm. I’m hard,” said Justin softly. He reached down to touch himself through his jeans. Brian chuckled again.
“You’re so bad at this,” said Brian.
“Me?” said Justin in an affronted voice. “At least I have some class. I’m not all ‘I’m going to ream your tight little hole with my big throbbing stick’ or whatever.”
“That’s a perfectly valid form of dirty talk, Sunshine.”
“It can be hot sometimes...” Justin trailed off. “Okay, yeah, it’s really hot, I admit it, but then later I start thinking of exactly what you said, and it just sounds really gross.”
Brian gave him a frustrated sigh. “Fuck you very much,” he said. “It’s your turn, then.”
Justin grinned at his ceiling. “Okay. It’s a hardship. What are you wearing?”
“Jesus Christ, Justin! A fucking pink tutu.”
“Kinky.”
“Right. Also known as ‘Don’t ask me that fucking question.’”
“’Kay,” Justin said. “Umm. Where are you right now?”
He heard some footsteps, then Brian said “I’m by the bed. Looking at the sheets.”
“Are they dirty?”
Brian swallowed wetly. “Yeah. Yeah, they’re dirty. I had a trick over.”
“Can you - I mean, lay down on the bed. Then start jerking off.”
“This is really sexy, Justin.”
“Brian! Now, I’m there with you. Right? You -”
“Yeah,” said Brian. “You’re watching me jerk off. You really suck at this, you know. I give you that look, that one that says ‘suck me so hard you’ll taste it for days.’”
“Fuck, Brian -“ Justin slid his hand inside his jeans.
“You come over and swallow my cock.”
“I see. Do I digest it, too?” Justin started stroking himself, lazily and slow.
“The head of my dick is at the back of your throat. You love it. You can’t get enough.”
“Yes,” Justin smiled. “Do you know why?”
“You love cock. You love it down -”
“Yes,” said Justin, “I love your cock. I love tasting you. I love feeling you writhe under my mouth. It’s such a rush... knowing that I can give you that.”
There was a moment of bated silence. “I do believe you’re getting better at this,” said Brian.
Justin smirked, glad that Brian couldn’t see him. “So I’m swallowing your cock, right?” Justin shoved his jeans down his thighs and took better hold of his hardening dick.
“You’re swallowing my cock,” said Brian. “Yeah. You want me to take the lead?”
“Fine,” said Justin. “You lead.”
*
Sam never mentioned it when Justin’s drawing hand started to tremble.
And it wasn’t like Justin was still uncomfortable talking about it. He was better with things, finally, and he could say it to anyone. Yeah. That’s right. I’m a kid that got his head bashed in. He wouldn’t even flinch.
But Justin recognized the dignity that Sam was trying to offer him, (or let him keep, he’s not sure which), and offered the same silence in return whenever an oddly familiar blonde woman started to work herself into the margins of Sam’s sketches.
*
(there might be scenes missing here.)
*
There are some lessons that Justin could never have learned from Brian Kinney. Lessons like there are just some things that stay with you.
Sam wasn’t drunk that night, and neither was Justin, although they were both slightly buzzed. They’d been smoking and discussing Pollock, which turned into an argument on martial arts movies, which turned into Sam once again telling one of his ex-wife stories, and Justin said -
“So if you married all these women, which ones were you in love with?”
Sam went silent. “I wasn’t in love with most of them,” he said finally. “I’ll tell you who I was really in love with. I’ve been dancing around her long enough.”
“Hmm,” said Justin, and sat on the floor, his back against the couch. Sam scooted down to sit beside him.
“She was gorgeous,” said Sam. “Beautiful, and creative, and had a temper like a cat.”
“Please don’t talk about pussy,” said Justin, only half-joking.
Sam laughed. “Ah, well, she broke my heart. Isn’t that how it always goes?” He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I wanted her to come with me. She wouldn’t leave her family.”
Justin shook his head. “So, she was married,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Sam. “To a woman.”
Justin inhaled, and laughed. “Fuck,” said Justin. “You are good, aren’t you?”
“The best, you’d better believe it,” said Sam. “I only fucked her once, and I think she would have gone with me, if she hadn’t been clinging to her old life so hard.” He looked away for a moment, his eyes shadowed. But then he turned back to Justin with a ready grin.
“Love,” he quipped, “is utter and complete hell.”
“Sometimes,” said Justin, and he thought of Brian. “Not always.”
*
“I want to show you something,” said Sam.
He took Justin on a winding car ride in the dead of night, through wide streets and bright lights.
“Where are we?” said Justin, but Sam was shaking his head.
“Not important,” said Sam. “Just wait, and then look.”
(end of scene unwritten)
*
“Have you ever thought about writing?” Justin asked.
Brian sounded drunk, just a little. Justin imagined him laying in bed, chuckling smokily towards the ceiling, sheets twisted around his thighs.
“I write all the time. I work in advertising, what do you think I do all day?”
That wasn’t what Justin was getting at. “I mean, real writing,” said Justin. “Like a writer. Y’know? Or maybe photography, you have a really good eye.”
“Why are you asking me this?” said Brian.
“Because...” Justin trailed off. “Because I just think you’d be good at it, is all.”
“You want me to be an artist, Sunshine? Just like you?” said Brian.
Justin said, “That’s not what I -“
“You want me to be original, creative,” said Brian. “You want me to inspire you, right?”
“Brian -“
“I don’t need to write,” said Brian. “You may think everyone in the world needs to make beautiful things, but I don’t. I sell shit to the masses. It’s not my job to make people feel. It’s my job to make them do what I want them to.”
“You make it sound so controlling.”
“It is,” said Brian. “And it’s manipulative, and it requires me to be a cold hearted bastard. And that’s why I like it. That, and I’m damn good at it. You know that, Justin.”
“It was just an idea,” said Justin. “I just thought you might like creating something for yourself once in a while.”
Brian was silent for too long.
“Brian?” Justin sighed. “Brian, I didn’t mean -“
“I’m not going to be like them,” Brian said softly. “I’m not going to sweep you off your feet with my talent. I’m not going to inspire you. You know what I am. And fuck, Justin, I’m happy. Are you?”
Justin’s heart skipped. He froze. What?
A prickly, pins-and-needles feeling traveled up his spine, something not exactly like dread, but close. “What are you talking about?” he said.
But he knew what Brian was talking about.
“I’m talking about Sam Auerbach,” said Brian. “I’m not fucking jealous or anything, I just want you to know that I get it. I know.”
“Brian,” said Justin, “He’s straight. I’ve only - he’s straight.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s straight, or even if you’re fucking him,” said Brian, “although that certainly didn’t help in Lindsay’s case.”
Justin heard himself exhale sharply. Lindsay. Brian meant - Yes. Yes, it all fit. How could Justin not have known?
But now wasn’t the time. He pushed the thoughts to the side, and bit his lip. “Brian,” he said slowly. “I enjoy spending time with him. Learning from him. Yes. But it’s not like that.”
“What is it, then?” Brian said, and he sounded pained. He made a noise and cleared his throat.
“It’s not that,” Justin repeated.
“Yeah?” A harsh breath. “You’ll have to enlighten me, then,” said Brian. “Because as I see it, you’ve found some new guy, some new guy that can understand you better than... who can tell you what a genius you are, and have the pretty credentials to back it up.”
“No,” said Justin more loudly. “’Better’? That doesn’t -“
“Yes! Some guy you can follow right to the ends of the fucking earth, until he turns around and he’s not anything like who you thought he was. You keep doing the same - fuck. Strange as the thought may be, Sunshine, I was once an idealistic youth like yourself. I know how these things go.”
“What - Where is all this coming from? That’s not it at all.” Justin was trying not to breathe, afraid that if he did he might start crying or yelling obscenities. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.
“Ethan. Sam. Even fucking Cody. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Fuck him. There was no good way to answer that. But maybe it wasn’t even the actual issue. There was something Brian wasn’t saying.
“Brian,” he said instead, and paused to take a deep breath. “What brought this on? Is something wrong?”
Brian sighed. “Fuck,” he said, and didn’t continue for a minute. Then he sighed again.
“Lousy day,” Brian said. “No real reason.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” said Brian. “I’m just -“ His voice slowed, became calmer. “I think I might be drunk.”
“You are,” said Justin. Inhale. “Brian, you know I love you.”
Silence.
“Sam isn’t another Ethan,” Justin said. “And if I saw him again, even Ethan wouldn’t be another Ethan. They don’t - It’s just you for me. You’re what I want.”
“And Auerbach?” said Brian.
Exhale.
“Nothing. He’s inspiring, he’s interesting,” said Justin. “I’ve been talking with him. I’ve been figuring out things about my own art, where I want to go with it, what the fuck I’m doing now. It’s just nice to get a fresh perspective.”
“A fresh perspective. Yeah, I... I should probably get some sleep,” said Brian.
“I’m sorry for being such a twat,” Justin said.
“No,” said Brian. “Well, yeah, you’re a twat, but no. I’m just tired.”
“Brian?”
“Yeah?”
“A minute ago... you said you were happy.”
Pause. “Yeah,” said Brian softly.
If you’re so happy, then what happened today? Justin wanted to ask.
But instead, he said, “I’m happy, too. And I’m happier when I’m with you.”
“...I should go,” was all Brian said, but he didn’t hang up.
“Yeah,” said Justin quietly, “You should. It’s late.” But he pressed the phone against his ear and tried, with all he had, to hold on.
*
tbc
Basically, I am posting this for peace of mind, and so I can get rid of one of the twenty gazillion WIPs on my machine.
Previously: part one, part two
Post-414, Brian/Justin, Justin/other. NC-17. [unfinished - a couple missing scenes, unbetaed, etc.] - no S5 spoilers.
“Guess who I’ve been hanging out with?” Justin said.
The line was silent for a moment, then Brian said, “If you say Mary-Kate Olsen, I swear to god -“
“No,” Justin said quickly. “Shut up, you know me better than that.”
“Hollywood warps young impressionable minds all the time, Sunshine.”
“Well, not this one.” Justin walked over to the window and looked out at the sky, wishing the phone had a cord he could fiddle with. “Sam Auerbach.”
Brian said, “Sam whothefuck?”
“Auerbach,” Justin repeated. “The guy who painted that mural in Pittsburgh a few months ago, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” said Brian. “He had an exhibition at Lindsay’s gallery.”
Justin paused, rested his hand on the window frame. The odd tone in Brian’s voice made something stir in the back of his mind.
“That’s right,” he said. “I’d forgotten that.”
“Hmm,” said Brian. “So what else is going on in the merry land of Angels?”
*
“Draw something,” said Sam.
Justin raised an eyebrow. “What do you want me to draw?”
“Anything,” said Sam, and handed him a sketchpad.
“Okay,” Justin grinned. “Then you’ll need to take your clothes off.”
“What are you drawing, my cock?”
“Something like that. Sit down.”
Sam sat on the couch, legs splayed apart, arms hanging loose at his sides. Justin started to sketch, directing Sam to turn his head to the side slightly.
Justin drew, and watched as Sam became lost in thought. Sam’s dick began to fill and harden as Justin sketched the line from his shoulder to his hip.
Justin wondered what Sam was thinking of. Or who. He seemed eased of concentration, eyes half closed. There was an almost wistful distance in his face.
Justin’s hands itched, but he had priorities, damnit. He stepped back and glanced at what he’d drawn so far, a rough outline of Sam’s form. He moved in closer again and looked at Sam’s face, shading in the expression on paper. The slight curve of his stomach. The muscles of his arm. Sam’s cock, thick and semi-erect.
Static image, scrawled lead, and Justin set his pencil down.
He walked over to Sam, carefully, and Sam didn’t even notice the movement until Justin was standing right over him.
“Don’t most models know how to keep their baser bodily functions under control?” Justin said softly.
Sam blinked and shifted, suddenly aware of his aroused state. Before he could respond, Justin dropped to his knees in front of him, taking Sam’s cock between his lips.
Sam started to moan instantly, but bit his lip and fell quiet. But Justin wanted him to make noise.
He scratched his nails up Sam’s thighs, bobbing on Sam’s dick with his mouth, and thought of what Sam must be feeling. Justin’d felt it often enough. Hot, warm, wet. The soft pressure of tongue and palate.
Justin was hard, too. He adjusted himself with one hand.
When Justin craned his gaze up to Sam’s face, he saw that Sam’s eyes were closed tight. His lips were open slightly, and he was starting to make a low, constant noise, saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth and glistening in the hotel room lamplight. Justin ripped his gaze away and continued sucking. No matter how irrational, he wanted Sam to remember this. He wanted to make a mark on him.
He wasn’t sure that he was succeeding.
Justin’s erection waned, simply from how unreal everything seemed. The couch, Sam, and everything, seemed fuzzy around the edges from the light in the room. The way Sam turned his head away, it was like Justin wasn’t even there, like Justin wasn’t even sucking his cock.
But Justin kept mouthing him, and the choked groans and shifting muscle under his lips and hands were the only way Justin could be sure it was happening.
A few minutes later, Sam came, fingers twisting at the fabric of the couch. Justin leaned back and planted a kiss on Sam’s knee.
“Who were you thinking about?” Justin asked, voice lightly teasing.
Sam stared at him a moment, and shook his head. “Fuck you,” he said.
*
Justin called every fifteen minutes until Brian picked up the phone.
“Jesus Christ, Justin,” he said, “I just got in the fucking door. What’s crawled up your ass now?”
“Nothing,” Justin said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
He heard a few muffled thumps, imagined Brian’s expensive shoes hitting the floor roughly. Brian would be toeing off his socks and untying his tie at the same time, exhausted from work, but not tired enough to let on.
Brian didn’t speak for a moment, then said awkwardly, “So... talk.”
“Let me rephrase that,” Justin said. “I wanted to hear your voice.” And he wanted something real.
There was silence for a minute, and then Brian let out a low chuckle.
“Why didn’t you just say you were horny, Sunshine?”
Justin grinned. That hadn’t been exactly why he called, but it was close enough - and applied to the situation more with every passing second.
“Mmm. I’m hard,” said Justin softly. He reached down to touch himself through his jeans. Brian chuckled again.
“You’re so bad at this,” said Brian.
“Me?” said Justin in an affronted voice. “At least I have some class. I’m not all ‘I’m going to ream your tight little hole with my big throbbing stick’ or whatever.”
“That’s a perfectly valid form of dirty talk, Sunshine.”
“It can be hot sometimes...” Justin trailed off. “Okay, yeah, it’s really hot, I admit it, but then later I start thinking of exactly what you said, and it just sounds really gross.”
Brian gave him a frustrated sigh. “Fuck you very much,” he said. “It’s your turn, then.”
Justin grinned at his ceiling. “Okay. It’s a hardship. What are you wearing?”
“Jesus Christ, Justin! A fucking pink tutu.”
“Kinky.”
“Right. Also known as ‘Don’t ask me that fucking question.’”
“’Kay,” Justin said. “Umm. Where are you right now?”
He heard some footsteps, then Brian said “I’m by the bed. Looking at the sheets.”
“Are they dirty?”
Brian swallowed wetly. “Yeah. Yeah, they’re dirty. I had a trick over.”
“Can you - I mean, lay down on the bed. Then start jerking off.”
“This is really sexy, Justin.”
“Brian! Now, I’m there with you. Right? You -”
“Yeah,” said Brian. “You’re watching me jerk off. You really suck at this, you know. I give you that look, that one that says ‘suck me so hard you’ll taste it for days.’”
“Fuck, Brian -“ Justin slid his hand inside his jeans.
“You come over and swallow my cock.”
“I see. Do I digest it, too?” Justin started stroking himself, lazily and slow.
“The head of my dick is at the back of your throat. You love it. You can’t get enough.”
“Yes,” Justin smiled. “Do you know why?”
“You love cock. You love it down -”
“Yes,” said Justin, “I love your cock. I love tasting you. I love feeling you writhe under my mouth. It’s such a rush... knowing that I can give you that.”
There was a moment of bated silence. “I do believe you’re getting better at this,” said Brian.
Justin smirked, glad that Brian couldn’t see him. “So I’m swallowing your cock, right?” Justin shoved his jeans down his thighs and took better hold of his hardening dick.
“You’re swallowing my cock,” said Brian. “Yeah. You want me to take the lead?”
“Fine,” said Justin. “You lead.”
*
Sam never mentioned it when Justin’s drawing hand started to tremble.
And it wasn’t like Justin was still uncomfortable talking about it. He was better with things, finally, and he could say it to anyone. Yeah. That’s right. I’m a kid that got his head bashed in. He wouldn’t even flinch.
But Justin recognized the dignity that Sam was trying to offer him, (or let him keep, he’s not sure which), and offered the same silence in return whenever an oddly familiar blonde woman started to work herself into the margins of Sam’s sketches.
*
(there might be scenes missing here.)
*
There are some lessons that Justin could never have learned from Brian Kinney. Lessons like there are just some things that stay with you.
Sam wasn’t drunk that night, and neither was Justin, although they were both slightly buzzed. They’d been smoking and discussing Pollock, which turned into an argument on martial arts movies, which turned into Sam once again telling one of his ex-wife stories, and Justin said -
“So if you married all these women, which ones were you in love with?”
Sam went silent. “I wasn’t in love with most of them,” he said finally. “I’ll tell you who I was really in love with. I’ve been dancing around her long enough.”
“Hmm,” said Justin, and sat on the floor, his back against the couch. Sam scooted down to sit beside him.
“She was gorgeous,” said Sam. “Beautiful, and creative, and had a temper like a cat.”
“Please don’t talk about pussy,” said Justin, only half-joking.
Sam laughed. “Ah, well, she broke my heart. Isn’t that how it always goes?” He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I wanted her to come with me. She wouldn’t leave her family.”
Justin shook his head. “So, she was married,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Sam. “To a woman.”
Justin inhaled, and laughed. “Fuck,” said Justin. “You are good, aren’t you?”
“The best, you’d better believe it,” said Sam. “I only fucked her once, and I think she would have gone with me, if she hadn’t been clinging to her old life so hard.” He looked away for a moment, his eyes shadowed. But then he turned back to Justin with a ready grin.
“Love,” he quipped, “is utter and complete hell.”
“Sometimes,” said Justin, and he thought of Brian. “Not always.”
*
“I want to show you something,” said Sam.
He took Justin on a winding car ride in the dead of night, through wide streets and bright lights.
“Where are we?” said Justin, but Sam was shaking his head.
“Not important,” said Sam. “Just wait, and then look.”
(end of scene unwritten)
*
“Have you ever thought about writing?” Justin asked.
Brian sounded drunk, just a little. Justin imagined him laying in bed, chuckling smokily towards the ceiling, sheets twisted around his thighs.
“I write all the time. I work in advertising, what do you think I do all day?”
That wasn’t what Justin was getting at. “I mean, real writing,” said Justin. “Like a writer. Y’know? Or maybe photography, you have a really good eye.”
“Why are you asking me this?” said Brian.
“Because...” Justin trailed off. “Because I just think you’d be good at it, is all.”
“You want me to be an artist, Sunshine? Just like you?” said Brian.
Justin said, “That’s not what I -“
“You want me to be original, creative,” said Brian. “You want me to inspire you, right?”
“Brian -“
“I don’t need to write,” said Brian. “You may think everyone in the world needs to make beautiful things, but I don’t. I sell shit to the masses. It’s not my job to make people feel. It’s my job to make them do what I want them to.”
“You make it sound so controlling.”
“It is,” said Brian. “And it’s manipulative, and it requires me to be a cold hearted bastard. And that’s why I like it. That, and I’m damn good at it. You know that, Justin.”
“It was just an idea,” said Justin. “I just thought you might like creating something for yourself once in a while.”
Brian was silent for too long.
“Brian?” Justin sighed. “Brian, I didn’t mean -“
“I’m not going to be like them,” Brian said softly. “I’m not going to sweep you off your feet with my talent. I’m not going to inspire you. You know what I am. And fuck, Justin, I’m happy. Are you?”
Justin’s heart skipped. He froze. What?
A prickly, pins-and-needles feeling traveled up his spine, something not exactly like dread, but close. “What are you talking about?” he said.
But he knew what Brian was talking about.
“I’m talking about Sam Auerbach,” said Brian. “I’m not fucking jealous or anything, I just want you to know that I get it. I know.”
“Brian,” said Justin, “He’s straight. I’ve only - he’s straight.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s straight, or even if you’re fucking him,” said Brian, “although that certainly didn’t help in Lindsay’s case.”
Justin heard himself exhale sharply. Lindsay. Brian meant - Yes. Yes, it all fit. How could Justin not have known?
But now wasn’t the time. He pushed the thoughts to the side, and bit his lip. “Brian,” he said slowly. “I enjoy spending time with him. Learning from him. Yes. But it’s not like that.”
“What is it, then?” Brian said, and he sounded pained. He made a noise and cleared his throat.
“It’s not that,” Justin repeated.
“Yeah?” A harsh breath. “You’ll have to enlighten me, then,” said Brian. “Because as I see it, you’ve found some new guy, some new guy that can understand you better than... who can tell you what a genius you are, and have the pretty credentials to back it up.”
“No,” said Justin more loudly. “’Better’? That doesn’t -“
“Yes! Some guy you can follow right to the ends of the fucking earth, until he turns around and he’s not anything like who you thought he was. You keep doing the same - fuck. Strange as the thought may be, Sunshine, I was once an idealistic youth like yourself. I know how these things go.”
“What - Where is all this coming from? That’s not it at all.” Justin was trying not to breathe, afraid that if he did he might start crying or yelling obscenities. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.
“Ethan. Sam. Even fucking Cody. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Fuck him. There was no good way to answer that. But maybe it wasn’t even the actual issue. There was something Brian wasn’t saying.
“Brian,” he said instead, and paused to take a deep breath. “What brought this on? Is something wrong?”
Brian sighed. “Fuck,” he said, and didn’t continue for a minute. Then he sighed again.
“Lousy day,” Brian said. “No real reason.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” said Brian. “I’m just -“ His voice slowed, became calmer. “I think I might be drunk.”
“You are,” said Justin. Inhale. “Brian, you know I love you.”
Silence.
“Sam isn’t another Ethan,” Justin said. “And if I saw him again, even Ethan wouldn’t be another Ethan. They don’t - It’s just you for me. You’re what I want.”
“And Auerbach?” said Brian.
Exhale.
“Nothing. He’s inspiring, he’s interesting,” said Justin. “I’ve been talking with him. I’ve been figuring out things about my own art, where I want to go with it, what the fuck I’m doing now. It’s just nice to get a fresh perspective.”
“A fresh perspective. Yeah, I... I should probably get some sleep,” said Brian.
“I’m sorry for being such a twat,” Justin said.
“No,” said Brian. “Well, yeah, you’re a twat, but no. I’m just tired.”
“Brian?”
“Yeah?”
“A minute ago... you said you were happy.”
Pause. “Yeah,” said Brian softly.
If you’re so happy, then what happened today? Justin wanted to ask.
But instead, he said, “I’m happy, too. And I’m happier when I’m with you.”
“...I should go,” was all Brian said, but he didn’t hang up.
“Yeah,” said Justin quietly, “You should. It’s late.” But he pressed the phone against his ear and tried, with all he had, to hold on.
*
tbc