Fic: Five Minutes, Forty-Six Seconds
Title: Five Minutes, Forty-Six Seconds
Author: museme87
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: R
Wordcount: 785
Warnings: takes place during the bashing, language, explicit descriptions
Summary: He'll later find out that it took five minutes, forty-six seconds for the ambulance to arrive, but for Brian it felt like a lifetime.
Author's Note: The idea for this fic came about after realizing that Brian had blood on his lips while he was sitting in the hospital at the end of 1.22. The idea of Brian kissing Justin as he laid there dying just about killed me. I could imagine Brian bartering with Justin in the parking garage, telling him things just to try to keep him alive. Making promises, etc. This was supposed to turn out a lot more eloquent than it did. The writing is as muddled and stilted as I imagined Brian's head would have been at that point in time, so it works in that sense.
Thwack!
The wetness of it gets him. Makes him gag.
The sound of wood splitting flesh and breaking bone permeates through the garage. It lingers with him, replays over and over in his head like a broken record. He hears it when he shouldn't be able to hear it anymore, above everything else. Above the name-Justin's name-that he thinks he's screaming. He doesn't hear himself say it, but the raw burn of his throat tells him he must be shouting something.
Thud!
Justin collapses before he can ever get to him. Just falls. Slowly, slower than can possibly be real. His blonde head bounces off the cold cement, the sound echoing in stereo. It settles, inhumanly still. That's all Brian can process.
He must pick up the bat but barely remembers taking it to the kid's knees. That fall should reach his ears but never does.
Just Justin's.
That squishy thwack. Crunching bone. Broken skin.
Oh god.
Oh god.
He drops, knees protesting. There's blood coating Justin's temple, his hair and cheek. It runs a hasty path towards his nose and lips. Brian's never seen so much of it before.
No.
No, no, no. No!
God!
He's lifted Justin's shoulders up before he can think straight, sort of clings to him without realizing all the damage he could be doing. As far as he knows, Justin's already dead. Still warm. So, so warm. Like all those nights they spent in bed together. Happy. They'd been so happy. Tonight. Other nights. Sunshine-y smiles.
Oh god.
Somehow his palm lands on Justin's chest. He feels it. A staggered, weak breath. Barely there. He's dreamed it. So much blood. Christ. Seconds longer than minutes. Another. Shuddered. Wet. Not dead then. Not yet.
There's blood on his shaking hands. He shifts Justin, remembers that he shouldn't do that. But he's done it already. He's killing him. Every time he moves him. But he can't not. He can't leave Justin on that floor. It's too cold. He'll get cold. He'll die cold.
Brian chokes a sob.
No. Shit, no. Fuck.
Sunshine.
Christ.
His fingers worm their way into his pocket. He grabs his phone, but it slips. Too much blood. He grips tighter, pulls it out.
The screen is blank.
The phone is off.
Why can't he ever keep his goddamn phone on?
Biting his quivering lips, he presses the button. It's taking too fucking long. There's not time. Goddamn, mother fucking piece of shit. They're running out of time. They should have had all the time in the world.
There.
And then, 9-1-1.
Ring.
Ring.
"911. Please state your emergency."
His…his…Justin. On the floor. There was a bat. And. Blood. He's bleeding. His head and it's everywhere. The parking garage of the Fairmont. On Market Street.
Brian doesn't think he's supposed to put the phone down, but he does. He can't talk anymore. There's nothing left to tell her.
Justin's going to die. Here. In a parking garage. On the best night of his life. He's only seventeen. No, no eighteen. There was a birthday. He remembers, and it was a month ago. A birthday, and he didn't give Justin what he asked for.
Oh god.
The kid wanted a date.
Dinner. A movie.
A burger and fries and a ticket to see Shrek.
And it had been too much to ask.
Brian hadn't…and now…and now.
He wipes his eyes, sniffs hard. He touches Justin's face lightly, his thumb skims across Justin's red-stained lips. Blood smears. He bends, his mouth pressed to the corner of Justin's. Again. Again, and his lips pull into a frown. He sobs against Justin's skin.
"Sorry." His chest constricts. Another sob, his eyes shutting and tears trailing his cheeks. "I'm…so sorry. I should have…" He chokes. "Oh god, Sunshine. Please don't…I might…"
There's barely a heartbeat. Brian waits for it. A weak flutter of a thud-thump. Then nothing. Nothing.
Nothing.
"Don't," he begs, desperate. "We'll go out. You and me. Together. As a couple. Just please…" He blinks back the wetness in his eyes. "Please don't die on me."
Thud……thump.
"Come on. Come on! Listen. Are you listening to me?"
Brian clutches onto him as if his life depends on it. He thinks this is it, that the ambulance is never going to make it. Justin's going to die. There's too much damage, not enough time. Fuck.
And he doesn't know if Justin can hear him. And he tries to hold him very still but firmly. Brian wants Justin to feel his warmth. He can't be cold. Brian won't let him go…go cold. Won't let him go without knowing that maybe, that he thinks that...
"I…I l-love you."
Thud.
…
…
Thump.
Author: museme87
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: R
Wordcount: 785
Warnings: takes place during the bashing, language, explicit descriptions
Summary: He'll later find out that it took five minutes, forty-six seconds for the ambulance to arrive, but for Brian it felt like a lifetime.
Author's Note: The idea for this fic came about after realizing that Brian had blood on his lips while he was sitting in the hospital at the end of 1.22. The idea of Brian kissing Justin as he laid there dying just about killed me. I could imagine Brian bartering with Justin in the parking garage, telling him things just to try to keep him alive. Making promises, etc. This was supposed to turn out a lot more eloquent than it did. The writing is as muddled and stilted as I imagined Brian's head would have been at that point in time, so it works in that sense.
Thwack!
The wetness of it gets him. Makes him gag.
The sound of wood splitting flesh and breaking bone permeates through the garage. It lingers with him, replays over and over in his head like a broken record. He hears it when he shouldn't be able to hear it anymore, above everything else. Above the name-Justin's name-that he thinks he's screaming. He doesn't hear himself say it, but the raw burn of his throat tells him he must be shouting something.
Thud!
Justin collapses before he can ever get to him. Just falls. Slowly, slower than can possibly be real. His blonde head bounces off the cold cement, the sound echoing in stereo. It settles, inhumanly still. That's all Brian can process.
He must pick up the bat but barely remembers taking it to the kid's knees. That fall should reach his ears but never does.
Just Justin's.
That squishy thwack. Crunching bone. Broken skin.
Oh god.
Oh god.
He drops, knees protesting. There's blood coating Justin's temple, his hair and cheek. It runs a hasty path towards his nose and lips. Brian's never seen so much of it before.
No.
No, no, no. No!
God!
He's lifted Justin's shoulders up before he can think straight, sort of clings to him without realizing all the damage he could be doing. As far as he knows, Justin's already dead. Still warm. So, so warm. Like all those nights they spent in bed together. Happy. They'd been so happy. Tonight. Other nights. Sunshine-y smiles.
Oh god.
Somehow his palm lands on Justin's chest. He feels it. A staggered, weak breath. Barely there. He's dreamed it. So much blood. Christ. Seconds longer than minutes. Another. Shuddered. Wet. Not dead then. Not yet.
There's blood on his shaking hands. He shifts Justin, remembers that he shouldn't do that. But he's done it already. He's killing him. Every time he moves him. But he can't not. He can't leave Justin on that floor. It's too cold. He'll get cold. He'll die cold.
Brian chokes a sob.
No. Shit, no. Fuck.
Sunshine.
Christ.
His fingers worm their way into his pocket. He grabs his phone, but it slips. Too much blood. He grips tighter, pulls it out.
The screen is blank.
The phone is off.
Why can't he ever keep his goddamn phone on?
Biting his quivering lips, he presses the button. It's taking too fucking long. There's not time. Goddamn, mother fucking piece of shit. They're running out of time. They should have had all the time in the world.
There.
And then, 9-1-1.
Ring.
Ring.
"911. Please state your emergency."
His…his…Justin. On the floor. There was a bat. And. Blood. He's bleeding. His head and it's everywhere. The parking garage of the Fairmont. On Market Street.
Brian doesn't think he's supposed to put the phone down, but he does. He can't talk anymore. There's nothing left to tell her.
Justin's going to die. Here. In a parking garage. On the best night of his life. He's only seventeen. No, no eighteen. There was a birthday. He remembers, and it was a month ago. A birthday, and he didn't give Justin what he asked for.
Oh god.
The kid wanted a date.
Dinner. A movie.
A burger and fries and a ticket to see Shrek.
And it had been too much to ask.
Brian hadn't…and now…and now.
He wipes his eyes, sniffs hard. He touches Justin's face lightly, his thumb skims across Justin's red-stained lips. Blood smears. He bends, his mouth pressed to the corner of Justin's. Again. Again, and his lips pull into a frown. He sobs against Justin's skin.
"Sorry." His chest constricts. Another sob, his eyes shutting and tears trailing his cheeks. "I'm…so sorry. I should have…" He chokes. "Oh god, Sunshine. Please don't…I might…"
There's barely a heartbeat. Brian waits for it. A weak flutter of a thud-thump. Then nothing. Nothing.
Nothing.
"Don't," he begs, desperate. "We'll go out. You and me. Together. As a couple. Just please…" He blinks back the wetness in his eyes. "Please don't die on me."
Thud……thump.
"Come on. Come on! Listen. Are you listening to me?"
Brian clutches onto him as if his life depends on it. He thinks this is it, that the ambulance is never going to make it. Justin's going to die. There's too much damage, not enough time. Fuck.
And he doesn't know if Justin can hear him. And he tries to hold him very still but firmly. Brian wants Justin to feel his warmth. He can't be cold. Brian won't let him go…go cold. Won't let him go without knowing that maybe, that he thinks that...
"I…I l-love you."
Thud.
…
…
Thump.