One more B/J ficlet
Again one of the post-513 pre-malli_'s 601 ficlets. Spoilers through all the five QAF Seasons. Don't own them, don't make money, I disclaim. You know it already, malli_, but I made some slight changes.
Title: Leftovers
Summary: Twelve Months After 513
Brian stares at the wedding rings.
He kept them.
And looked at them.
Every morninge and every night of every day since Justin went to New York.
It isn’t as if he had much of a choice, with them lying around on the counter top. He throws his briefcase down after a long day of work and his eyes would grace them before moving on, thinking for a short second about everything that could have been. Thinking about their discussion which last name to take. Smiling gently and sadly. Then moving on, wondering which clothes to wear to Babylon tonight, wondering which model to use for the new Braun-ad, wondering if Mikey went with him that night.
He doesn’t sit lifelessly on the couch staring at them and crying senselessly, god no. It’s only one short glance every day. Reminding him of Justin. Of love. Of promises. Of passed chances and the plea that never left his lips.
Stay!
Tonight is different, though.
It had been exactly twelve months since Justin had left.
Brian didn’t keep count of the days. It was the New York Times which reminded him. There was an article about Justin, the newcomer of the year, this day, mentioning how exactly one year ago, the artist had moved to New York and startet his glorious career.
He tried not to think about Justin. At work, he sometimes succedded. With Mikey in Babylon, he sometimes succedded. With Ted, Emmet, the professor and Michael at the Diner, he sometimes succedded.
Of course he did.
But then he is alone at night and the loft seems empty again.
That doesn’t happen everyday, either. But the more time passes without hearing from Justin personally, it suddenly isnn’t so rare at all that he would enter the loft and wonder when it became so lonely.
So this night, he picks up the wedding rings, opens the box and stares at them. For the first, or maybe second time in twelve months. He just sits and stares and tries not to think. About what could have been, would have been, isn’t, will never be.
He remembers Justin’s words: “We don’t need rings or vows to prove that we love each other. We already know that.” He remembers agreeing with them.
He wishes that this one time, he’d have a vow. It would be easier.
He tries not to remember that it was one year and Justin called him exactly once.
He tries not to remember that Justin will never come back.
Suddenly he smashes the box against the wall. He doesn’t want to be reminded. He doesn’t want to mourn. Still he smirkes as he hears the crack! of the box as it hits the stone with force and breaks. The rings fall out and hit the floor, then roll away from each other. There Justin. Our dreams together are shattered. Happy now?
He laughs suddenly and muses that the box must feel exactly like he does now. Broken, and empty. That’s the smartest metaphor ever: I feel like a box of weddingrings. He knows he didn’t get a kick-ass-score on his SATs for nothing.
His laughter dies down and Brian gets up, reaching for the Beam, not bothering to pour himself a glass, just drinking directly from the bottle. Peachy. He suddenly hopes that Justin is going through the same shit. That would make it better. Yeah. A lot better.
And then he remembers that Justin is fine and fabulous and that that’s the reason why he’s going through the shit in the first place.
And that conclusion sobers him.
Brian places the Beam carefully back on the counter, changes into his club clothes and hesitates as he grabs his cell to call Mikey.
Better not. He’s called his best friend often enough. He has bothered him often enough. Jesus.
When he’s sitting in the ‘Vette, his cell suddenly rings. It’s Michael.
“Are you coming to Babylon tonight?”, and when has Brian ever said ‘no’ to his best friend?
***
The next morning, he has a bitch of a headache.
And when he is about to leave and throws one last look to the counter, he notices that the rings are missing.
He thinks for a second before he remembers smashing them against the wall. Right.
He comes in late because he carefully picked up every piece of the box and glued it together again. It lookes disturbingly broken and disturbingly ugly now, but at least the rings fit safely in and it’s there on the kitchen counter.
Waiting.
Because some dreams never shatter, no matter how hard you crush them.
Title: Leftovers
Summary: Twelve Months After 513
Brian stares at the wedding rings.
He kept them.
And looked at them.
Every morninge and every night of every day since Justin went to New York.
It isn’t as if he had much of a choice, with them lying around on the counter top. He throws his briefcase down after a long day of work and his eyes would grace them before moving on, thinking for a short second about everything that could have been. Thinking about their discussion which last name to take. Smiling gently and sadly. Then moving on, wondering which clothes to wear to Babylon tonight, wondering which model to use for the new Braun-ad, wondering if Mikey went with him that night.
He doesn’t sit lifelessly on the couch staring at them and crying senselessly, god no. It’s only one short glance every day. Reminding him of Justin. Of love. Of promises. Of passed chances and the plea that never left his lips.
Stay!
Tonight is different, though.
It had been exactly twelve months since Justin had left.
Brian didn’t keep count of the days. It was the New York Times which reminded him. There was an article about Justin, the newcomer of the year, this day, mentioning how exactly one year ago, the artist had moved to New York and startet his glorious career.
He tried not to think about Justin. At work, he sometimes succedded. With Mikey in Babylon, he sometimes succedded. With Ted, Emmet, the professor and Michael at the Diner, he sometimes succedded.
Of course he did.
But then he is alone at night and the loft seems empty again.
That doesn’t happen everyday, either. But the more time passes without hearing from Justin personally, it suddenly isnn’t so rare at all that he would enter the loft and wonder when it became so lonely.
So this night, he picks up the wedding rings, opens the box and stares at them. For the first, or maybe second time in twelve months. He just sits and stares and tries not to think. About what could have been, would have been, isn’t, will never be.
He remembers Justin’s words: “We don’t need rings or vows to prove that we love each other. We already know that.” He remembers agreeing with them.
He wishes that this one time, he’d have a vow. It would be easier.
He tries not to remember that it was one year and Justin called him exactly once.
He tries not to remember that Justin will never come back.
Suddenly he smashes the box against the wall. He doesn’t want to be reminded. He doesn’t want to mourn. Still he smirkes as he hears the crack! of the box as it hits the stone with force and breaks. The rings fall out and hit the floor, then roll away from each other. There Justin. Our dreams together are shattered. Happy now?
He laughs suddenly and muses that the box must feel exactly like he does now. Broken, and empty. That’s the smartest metaphor ever: I feel like a box of weddingrings. He knows he didn’t get a kick-ass-score on his SATs for nothing.
His laughter dies down and Brian gets up, reaching for the Beam, not bothering to pour himself a glass, just drinking directly from the bottle. Peachy. He suddenly hopes that Justin is going through the same shit. That would make it better. Yeah. A lot better.
And then he remembers that Justin is fine and fabulous and that that’s the reason why he’s going through the shit in the first place.
And that conclusion sobers him.
Brian places the Beam carefully back on the counter, changes into his club clothes and hesitates as he grabs his cell to call Mikey.
Better not. He’s called his best friend often enough. He has bothered him often enough. Jesus.
When he’s sitting in the ‘Vette, his cell suddenly rings. It’s Michael.
“Are you coming to Babylon tonight?”, and when has Brian ever said ‘no’ to his best friend?
***
The next morning, he has a bitch of a headache.
And when he is about to leave and throws one last look to the counter, he notices that the rings are missing.
He thinks for a second before he remembers smashing them against the wall. Right.
He comes in late because he carefully picked up every piece of the box and glued it together again. It lookes disturbingly broken and disturbingly ugly now, but at least the rings fit safely in and it’s there on the kitchen counter.
Waiting.
Because some dreams never shatter, no matter how hard you crush them.