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Part 4. Header and disclaimer here. Spoiler for all seasons! Summary: Seven Months After...
Sew this up with threads of reason and regret
So I will not forget. I will not forget
How this felt one year six months ago
I know I cannot forget. I cannot forget.
Brian returned from the backroom feeling slightly better after he had fucked a blond head and didn’t look back after it but only walked straight away. Sex was healing. Yep, it was. Well, maybe it was only plastering a band-aid over a still leaking wound, but Brian couldn’t care less. As long as it weren’t Hello Kitty! band-aids, he could take it.
Gracefully sliding his way through dancing bodies and enjoying the covetous looks he received wherever he turned. Yes, he was a slut. Yes, he took self-confidence and pleasure from being wanted. Definition for slut, remember?
Leaning on the bar he spotted the other slut. Slightly smirking he walked up next to Emmet, grabbed the Cosmo out of his friend’s hands and drowned it in one gulp.
“I hate that shit!”, he hissed only seconds after, but laughed anyway. Brian banged the fragile glass (when did Alfonso get the fucked-up idea to use such fragile glasses in a fucking gay club?) back onto the counter and it broke into about ten million shards. Huh? He glanced down and scowled at the glass. How did it dare breaking? Then he noticed that there was a something warm pouring down his palm. Huh? Brian held it against the flashing lights, but couldn’t see anything. Maybe it was Bean. Warm Bean. Or had some bird pissed on his hand?
“Fucking birds, you should shoot ‘em all!”, he mumbled angrily, then considered that it just might Beam, so he brought the hand to his mouth and sucked the offending fluid off his skin.
He knew the steel taste of that. It was blood.
When did he cut himself?
“Huh?”, Brian said under his breath.
“Brian?”, Emmet’s distant voice asked, but right at that moment Brian decided that his blood pouring down his hand was the most hilarious sight ever and started laughing like a madman.
“It’s blood, Em!”, he almost shrieked (if Brian Kinney would ever shriek).
“Yes, I can see that, honey. What did you take?”
Brian only smirked, uncoordinately threw an arm over his friend’s shoulder and whispered hotly into his ear: “Why, wanna have a lil’ bit too?”
Under any other occasions, that would have been an offer Emmet couldn’t have refused because Brian Kinney always had the best stuff, but right now it was the best if at least one of them stayed sane.
“Don’t you have work tomorrow? It’s four in the morning!”
Emmet was pretty tired, but he didn’t want Brian run around alone and high. The danger of Brian picking up a blade and just sliding his own throat was too big - fucking bastard. No one but him would have the nerve to do that. If he left, Brian was going, too.
“You’re all work, no fun, Emmy! C’mon, let’s dance!”
Okay, now it was definitely time for Brian Kinney to go home. Emmet pretended that his friend had not just called him “Emmy” because that would mean the end of the world as they knew it.
“No, Brian. We’re going home.”
Brian grinned and turned on his heels, looking like a fucking ballerina.
“Fuck it. I’m gonna find Justin and we’ll dance all night!”
Emmet swallowed hard and reminded himself not to cry. Surely their baby was alright in New York.
And most certainly Brian was a mess back here.
“Wait!”, he called and caught up with Brian, grabbing his arms (God, such strong shoulders!) and starting to dance. Briant tilted his head and smiled. “What are you doing, Honeycutt?”, he cooed.
“Dancing.”
“You didn’t want to.”
“Well, I’ve changed my mind.”
Brian tilted his head again. Then he laughed loudly and started dancing along with Emmet, closing his eyes.
They had danced for a few minutes silently, Brian with closed eyes all way through, not caring if he hit someone or someone hit him. Then he suddenly laughed again and reached out, wrapping something invisible into his arms and whispering something into the air.
Emmet watched the scene unfolding in front of him totally bewildered: Brian had slung his arms around something that just wasn’t there and danced, smiling joyfully and laughing small, honest laughs that Emmet had only rarely seen before. What the fuck?!
Brian’s arms began roaming around the invincible form, his eyes still closed, and then the song changed into something Emmet remembered because as every dutiful teenager, Justin had loved the weird techno-remix of Like Ice in the Sunshine and Brian laughed brightly and then suddenly acted as if he was lifting someone of the ground. He spinned a circle, then lowered his arms carefully back to the ground and dived down to place a kiss into nothing, lifting a hand and grabbing air.
Emmet could feel the tears spilling through his lids as he decided he couldn’t watch this any longer. Whatever shit Brian had taken, it had been fucking strong. Too fucking strong.
The queen straightened his shoulders, knowing that he had to be strong, too - he could have a full breakdown and call Teddy at Deb’s.
Emmet took Brian home. He only managed to convince the drugged man by telling him in a broken voice that Justin was waiting for him at the loft. Fortunately, Emmet knew how to drive. He knew that Brian would kill him for driving his Corvette tomorrow, but as if that mattered right then. Brian feel asleep within one minute sitting, still laughing, in the car. He never fully woke up anymore while Emmet undressed him, forced water down his throat so he wouldn’t dehydrate and kissed his forhead.
Brian Kinney was a mess.
Emmet swore to never tell a living soul, not even Brian himself.
It was the first vow about not spreading out news he ever kept.
Have to make a few calls, and I'm working on my presentation. *hurries*
Sew this up with threads of reason and regret
So I will not forget. I will not forget
How this felt one year six months ago
I know I cannot forget. I cannot forget.
Brian returned from the backroom feeling slightly better after he had fucked a blond head and didn’t look back after it but only walked straight away. Sex was healing. Yep, it was. Well, maybe it was only plastering a band-aid over a still leaking wound, but Brian couldn’t care less. As long as it weren’t Hello Kitty! band-aids, he could take it.
Gracefully sliding his way through dancing bodies and enjoying the covetous looks he received wherever he turned. Yes, he was a slut. Yes, he took self-confidence and pleasure from being wanted. Definition for slut, remember?
Leaning on the bar he spotted the other slut. Slightly smirking he walked up next to Emmet, grabbed the Cosmo out of his friend’s hands and drowned it in one gulp.
“I hate that shit!”, he hissed only seconds after, but laughed anyway. Brian banged the fragile glass (when did Alfonso get the fucked-up idea to use such fragile glasses in a fucking gay club?) back onto the counter and it broke into about ten million shards. Huh? He glanced down and scowled at the glass. How did it dare breaking? Then he noticed that there was a something warm pouring down his palm. Huh? Brian held it against the flashing lights, but couldn’t see anything. Maybe it was Bean. Warm Bean. Or had some bird pissed on his hand?
“Fucking birds, you should shoot ‘em all!”, he mumbled angrily, then considered that it just might Beam, so he brought the hand to his mouth and sucked the offending fluid off his skin.
He knew the steel taste of that. It was blood.
When did he cut himself?
“Huh?”, Brian said under his breath.
“Brian?”, Emmet’s distant voice asked, but right at that moment Brian decided that his blood pouring down his hand was the most hilarious sight ever and started laughing like a madman.
“It’s blood, Em!”, he almost shrieked (if Brian Kinney would ever shriek).
“Yes, I can see that, honey. What did you take?”
Brian only smirked, uncoordinately threw an arm over his friend’s shoulder and whispered hotly into his ear: “Why, wanna have a lil’ bit too?”
Under any other occasions, that would have been an offer Emmet couldn’t have refused because Brian Kinney always had the best stuff, but right now it was the best if at least one of them stayed sane.
“Don’t you have work tomorrow? It’s four in the morning!”
Emmet was pretty tired, but he didn’t want Brian run around alone and high. The danger of Brian picking up a blade and just sliding his own throat was too big - fucking bastard. No one but him would have the nerve to do that. If he left, Brian was going, too.
“You’re all work, no fun, Emmy! C’mon, let’s dance!”
Okay, now it was definitely time for Brian Kinney to go home. Emmet pretended that his friend had not just called him “Emmy” because that would mean the end of the world as they knew it.
“No, Brian. We’re going home.”
Brian grinned and turned on his heels, looking like a fucking ballerina.
“Fuck it. I’m gonna find Justin and we’ll dance all night!”
Emmet swallowed hard and reminded himself not to cry. Surely their baby was alright in New York.
And most certainly Brian was a mess back here.
“Wait!”, he called and caught up with Brian, grabbing his arms (God, such strong shoulders!) and starting to dance. Briant tilted his head and smiled. “What are you doing, Honeycutt?”, he cooed.
“Dancing.”
“You didn’t want to.”
“Well, I’ve changed my mind.”
Brian tilted his head again. Then he laughed loudly and started dancing along with Emmet, closing his eyes.
They had danced for a few minutes silently, Brian with closed eyes all way through, not caring if he hit someone or someone hit him. Then he suddenly laughed again and reached out, wrapping something invisible into his arms and whispering something into the air.
Emmet watched the scene unfolding in front of him totally bewildered: Brian had slung his arms around something that just wasn’t there and danced, smiling joyfully and laughing small, honest laughs that Emmet had only rarely seen before. What the fuck?!
Brian’s arms began roaming around the invincible form, his eyes still closed, and then the song changed into something Emmet remembered because as every dutiful teenager, Justin had loved the weird techno-remix of Like Ice in the Sunshine and Brian laughed brightly and then suddenly acted as if he was lifting someone of the ground. He spinned a circle, then lowered his arms carefully back to the ground and dived down to place a kiss into nothing, lifting a hand and grabbing air.
Emmet could feel the tears spilling through his lids as he decided he couldn’t watch this any longer. Whatever shit Brian had taken, it had been fucking strong. Too fucking strong.
The queen straightened his shoulders, knowing that he had to be strong, too - he could have a full breakdown and call Teddy at Deb’s.
Emmet took Brian home. He only managed to convince the drugged man by telling him in a broken voice that Justin was waiting for him at the loft. Fortunately, Emmet knew how to drive. He knew that Brian would kill him for driving his Corvette tomorrow, but as if that mattered right then. Brian feel asleep within one minute sitting, still laughing, in the car. He never fully woke up anymore while Emmet undressed him, forced water down his throat so he wouldn’t dehydrate and kissed his forhead.
Brian Kinney was a mess.
Emmet swore to never tell a living soul, not even Brian himself.
It was the first vow about not spreading out news he ever kept.
Have to make a few calls, and I'm working on my presentation. *hurries*