Fic: My Everything (Brian/Justin)
Title: My Everything
Characters/Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: Post 409 and post 513
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,382 words
Warnings: None
Summary: Brian and Justin in bad times and good times.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own these characters.
Banner: Made by the amazing kari77 - thank you for inspiring me! :)
Thanks to: The lovely rromantic, for boosting my confidence when I needed it, and for fixing a few mistakes :) All remaining mistakes are mine.
Author's Notes: Written for the Matchmaking Challenge at neverenough_bj.
My Everything
It’s late when I finally come home after my evening class at PIFA. I’m tired, exhausted after a long day, and I practically drag my feet up the stairs to the loft, silently cursing the fucking elevator for not working when I actually need it.
As I climb the stairs I find myself wondering what kind of state I’ll find Brian in. Angry? Frustrated? Annoyed? Puking into the toilet, again?
It’s just impossible to know these days. Sometimes his body handles the radiation therapy fairly well; other times he’s so sick it scares the shit out of me. I know it’s normal to react like that to radiation, but I can’t help it. It hurts so much to see him so sick, so vulnerable.
I reach the top of the stairs and stop there for a minute. I focus on breathing calmly, and I rub my neck for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Then I slowly open the door and step inside.
I pause for a moment, listening.
It’s quiet.
I roll the metal door shut, trying to make as little noise as possible, and take a few steps across the floor. I can’t see or hear him anywhere, so I move over to the bedroom.
I find him lying on the bed.
Sleeping.
Naked.
There is nothing covering him; instead the covers are in a heap next to him. He’s lying on his stomach, peacefully breathing into the pillow.
I let out a relieved sigh, happy that he’s sleeping and not throwing up again, and let my bag drop to the floor.
For a moment I just watch him.
He’s so fucking beautiful. His body is perfect, even after weeks of battling cancer. It’s unbelievable that there is something so ugly and destroying lurking underneath such a beautiful surface.
I have to swallow a big lump in my throat.
Sometimes I love him so much it hurts.
I take a few steps closer and sit down on the bed next to him. I gently touch his back with my hand, checking if he’s cold. He shifts a little in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up.
He must be exhausted. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s spent most of the day bent over the toilet.
I sigh a little. I really hate having to go to school and work these days. I’ve cut back on my hours at the diner, and I wanted to skip some classes too. Brian is my number one priority right now, and I want to stay with him as much as I can.
But Brian, of course, wouldn’t have it. I tried to tell him that some of my classes really aren’t that important, but he didn’t believe me.
So every day I leave the loft to go to school, hating that I have to leave him alone.
Brian’s body is warm, despite its naked condition. I let my hand rest on his back for a while, needing the contact.
That’s when I get the sudden urge to draw. An urge that is stronger and more intense than I’ve ever felt before.
I quickly take a sketch book out of my bag on the floor, and just let the need to create take me over.
For a while the only thing that can be heard in the quiet room is the sound of the pencil running over paper. I’m completely consumed with the task at hand as everything inside is pouring out of me and takes form on the white surface. It’s coming from a place deep inside, a place where all my deepest, most intense and raw feelings reside.
I completely lose track of time. It’s not until Brian starts moving next to me that I look up from the sketch book.
“Sunshine?” he mumbles, his voice so weak that I wouldn’t have heard him if I hadn’t been so close.
“I’m here,” I whisper, putting the sketch pad away. I move my hand gently up and down his back to let him feel my presence. Leaning down, I kiss his shoulder softly, and rest my head against his warm body for a while. I fight to keep the tears at bay, determined to stay strong for him. He’s helped me through so much; now it’s my turn to be there for him.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but eventually it occurs to me that Brian shouldn’t lie like this, with nothing covering him. He still isn’t cold, but I don’t want to take any chances. Brian catching a cold is the last thing we need right now.
I reach for the covers and pull them over him. He still has his eyes closed, and isn’t giving me any indication that he has even noticed the warm softness that now surrounds him. My heart clenches seeing how exhausted he is. The illness has really taken its toll on him, not that he would ever admit that. He keeps playing his role as super stud, going to work, going to Babylon, and I’m the only one who seems to notice how he’s really doing.
It’s taking its toll on me too.
But I don’t matter right now. Brian is all that’s important. Making sure Brian gets better. It’s all I care about.
Because as long as he’s okay, I’m okay.
I crawl into bed and settle under the covers next to him. He notices that, and with a sigh he turns around to pull me into his arms. I’m more than willing, and I move closer to him, hiding my face against his warm, naked chest. I feel his hands on my back, and I kiss his bare chest over and over.
It’s an intimate moment. We’re sharing quite a few of those these days.
I guess cancer does that to you.
Somehow we just need to be close. Touch each other. Feel each other.
After a while we fall asleep like that.
4 years later
I put the big box I’m carrying down on the floor and look around, a big grin escaping me. Most of all I want to sing or dance or jump around. Or do something equally pathetic.
It’s hard to believe that we actually own this house. Brian and I. Together.
This will be our home now. As much as I’ve always loved the loft, and felt at home there, this will be different. This is a place that we own together, right from the beginning.
He bought it for us after he proposed to me almost three years ago, and I loved it from the moment I saw it. It was perfect, despite being slightly bigger - okay, a lot bigger - than I ever dreamed of. But who was I to complain? The love of my life bought it for me as a token of how much he loves me, so how could it not be perfect?
Today we’re finally moving in, and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve had three good years in New York, but I missed Brian terribly and I can’t wait to live with him again. Even though Brian and I have been together for more or less 7 years, we’ve never really lived together very much during that time. I stayed with him at the loft a lot of the time before I moved to New York, but I didn’t ‘officially’ live there, apart from a few short periods.
Everything feels more real now. This step we’re taking today is huge.
And I’m ready for it. We are ready for it.
I decide to go and find Brian, who is carrying some boxes into another room of the house.
I find him in that room, the most special room in the house to me. It’s where I agreed to marry him. Where we made love in front of the fireplace afterwards. That’s still one of the most beautiful and intimate moments of my life.
I walk over to Brian, who’s standing next to a big box, examining its contents.
“What’s in there?” I ask curiously, peeking into the box.
“Works of art,” he says with a smile, and I discover that the box contains some of my artwork.
There’s a little bit of everything in it, but mostly there is old stuff and things I haven’t finished. I see a lot of old sketches and some work I did when I went to PIFA.
“Oh shit, look at this,” I grin and pull a sketch out of the box. It’s one of me and Brian fucking, one I sketched when I was 17 years old and head over heels in love with this gorgeous guy I’d just met.
Little did I know back then about how my life would turn out.
We spend some time looking through all the stuff in the box, a lot of it things I don’t even remember. It’s amazing how many drawings, sketches and paintings I’ve done over the years.
I suddenly notice that Brian has stiffened next to me. He’s standing very still, looking at something in his hands. His face shows absolutely no expression.
I move closer to him so I can look at what he’s holding.
I freeze, staring at the small painting before us.
I’d completely forgotten about it.
What I see is a painting of Brian, lying naked on the bed in the loft. His eyes are closed and all the beautiful lines on his body are clearly visible.
I remember it now. I remember drawing when Brian was ill. I remember coming home one night, finding his beautiful, naked, sleeping form on the bed, and getting this urge to draw that was so strong I couldn’t resist it.
I remember sketching furiously until Brian woke up. And I remember painting while Brian was resting the next day, using the sketch I did the day before as the base for my work.
The result was the painting Brian now holds in his hands.
It’s a painting made of love. I put all my feelings into it - all my fear, all my devotion, all my affection. All my love for him. It’s all there.
And I know he can see it too.
It’s a simple painting, but it’s also... powerful. Even today, after all the hundreds of pieces I’ve created, this has to be one of the most intense things I’ve ever done. It’s hard to believe I actually forgot about it. But once Brian was declared cancer free and we knew that the nightmare was finally over, we put that time, and everything connected to it, behind us and we never looked back.
“This one is special.”
I’m so lost in my own thoughts that the sound of Brian’s voice startles me. I look at him, and see him still staring at the painting he’s holding, not taking his eyes off of it.
He sees it. He sees how special it is, how much is being said through the brushstrokes.
“Yes, it’s special,” I say quietly, touching his arm with my hand.
“Tell me about it.”
“I painted this when you were sick,” I tell him, and I can’t stop my voice from trembling a little, it’s so full of emotion. “One day when I came home from class I found you in bed like this. Naked. Beautiful. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to sketch you. The next day I did this painting based on that sketch.”
I stop for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything so I continue. “I’ve never shown this to anyone. Once I’d made it I hid it because there were just too many feelings there. I didn’t want anyone to see. I meant to show it to you once you’d recovered, but then somehow, I forgot all about it.”
My hand caresses his arm gently. “It’s about us. About what we’ve been through, about what we have, what we will always have. I painted this during one of the worst times in our lives, but when I look at it now, I don’t see the fear. I see hope. Faith. And love. And that’s what I felt. Yes, I was scared. I was terrified of losing you and I carried that fear around with me every minute, every hour, every day. But I always believed in you, believed that you would make it. You’ve always been the strongest person I know, and I knew that you would fight it. And if for some reason your strength wouldn’t be enough, I was determined to fight for you.”
Brian doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just stands there motionless, and I begin to wonder if I’ve said too much, if maybe he wasn’t ready to hear all that. Then he turns and looks at me.
“We should hang this in our bedroom.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, a bit taken aback, because even though the painting is filled with love and hope, it’s still something that will remind us of a really difficult time in our lives. “It’s quite-“
“I’m sure,” he interrupts and looks straight into my eyes. “I didn’t know anyone could love me like this. I want to see it.”
I just nod. There is that insecure side of Brian, the side other people very rarely gets to see. The side of him that makes him doubt that he can mean something to other people. The side of him that still, even after all the years we’ve been together, finds it hard to believe how much I love him.
I take the painting from his hands, and make him look at me again. I smile, running my hand down the side of his face. I kiss him softly.
“I’ve always loved you like that,” I whisper. “I always will.”
He nods, smiling a little. Then he wraps his arms around me and holds me for a long time, showing me that he understands, that he knows. I rest my head against his chest, feeling at home in his arms.
Today we are starting our new life together, in our own house. And I’m going to make sure that he wakes up every morning and goes to sleep every night knowing that he is my life. My everything.
And he always will be.
THE END
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