.034 Not Enough
.034 Not Enough
Sydney Alexis
A/N: Brian centered fic
There are times in his life when he realizes he's so fucking lucky for what he has--a good job, a fancy loft, friends. He's pulling in thousands a month and doing better than his dear old father could ever have hoped to make in a lifetime.
He fucked hundreds if not thousands of men, has a closet full of expensive clothes...
But none of it was enough. Not nearly enough.
Everything had to be clean and crisp and the best because he went so fucking long without when he was a kid. Tattered, second hand cloths from the dime-store, cast offs from Jack Kinney's own back. Shoes too tight, pants too short.
Nothing that was ever just for him.
The only thing that seemed to come in abundance in the Kinney household was liquor, violence, and an absence of anything that meant anything.
Funny how, no matter how much he struggled to not turn into Jack Kinney, he'd done just that.
The liquor was always there; the bar in his loft was always well stocked. Top shelf liquors in lieu of the swill Jack guzzled, but it was alcohol all the same.
There was violence. An endless line of willing bodies he hammered into, trying to fuck away the pain of a lost childhood, trying to distance himself from everyone while trying desperately to feel something.
And there was an absence of anything that meant anything. Yes, there was Michael, Debbie, and Vic. His 'adopted' family.
He'd spend afternoons and dinners there catching glimpses of what his life could be like if his parents actually wanted him.
He pretended it didn't fucking hurt, and, somewhere along the line, got so good at it, he almost convinced himself.
And then he picked some blond twink under a streetlamp.
Suddenly, Justin was always in his loft, filling the spaces he didn't realize were empty. The kid grew into a mature, self-sufficient man who pushed him to be a better man, a better father, a better partner.
And Brian wouldn't have it any other way.
fanfic100: 41/100
Sydney Alexis
A/N: Brian centered fic
There are times in his life when he realizes he's so fucking lucky for what he has--a good job, a fancy loft, friends. He's pulling in thousands a month and doing better than his dear old father could ever have hoped to make in a lifetime.
He fucked hundreds if not thousands of men, has a closet full of expensive clothes...
But none of it was enough. Not nearly enough.
Everything had to be clean and crisp and the best because he went so fucking long without when he was a kid. Tattered, second hand cloths from the dime-store, cast offs from Jack Kinney's own back. Shoes too tight, pants too short.
Nothing that was ever just for him.
The only thing that seemed to come in abundance in the Kinney household was liquor, violence, and an absence of anything that meant anything.
Funny how, no matter how much he struggled to not turn into Jack Kinney, he'd done just that.
The liquor was always there; the bar in his loft was always well stocked. Top shelf liquors in lieu of the swill Jack guzzled, but it was alcohol all the same.
There was violence. An endless line of willing bodies he hammered into, trying to fuck away the pain of a lost childhood, trying to distance himself from everyone while trying desperately to feel something.
And there was an absence of anything that meant anything. Yes, there was Michael, Debbie, and Vic. His 'adopted' family.
He'd spend afternoons and dinners there catching glimpses of what his life could be like if his parents actually wanted him.
He pretended it didn't fucking hurt, and, somewhere along the line, got so good at it, he almost convinced himself.
And then he picked some blond twink under a streetlamp.
Suddenly, Justin was always in his loft, filling the spaces he didn't realize were empty. The kid grew into a mature, self-sufficient man who pushed him to be a better man, a better father, a better partner.
And Brian wouldn't have it any other way.
fanfic100: 41/100