FIC: tongue the bruise you leave (B/J, QAF) Brian POV

[freakykat]

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Title:tongue the bruise you leave (It's Only Time series)
Author: freakykat
Time Frame: Way post 513 - spans a few years gap.
Summary: Brian does what he can. Fourth short in a series titled It's Only Time. The series should lead up to a work in progress that is underway.
Rating: R
Warnings: Angsty, angsty and then there’s more…
Notes: Thanks to wouldbedorothy for beta-reading especially since she was crazy sick when she did. Props go to her B/J poem Take Me In that inspired the title. Feedback much appreciated and loved.
Disclaimer: I own none of this - they belong to Showtime, Cowlip and others. I only play with them a little. Once I'm done, I'll dust them off and give them back.


Tongue the bruise you leave


You’re Brian Kinney for fuck’s sake.

You run that single thought in your mind as you sway to the persistent thump of the music. Your body gyrates, sways, less graceful than in your younger years. You close your eyes, hands thrown up to touch the shower of glitter that falls from above. Your head falls back and you don’t think of crystal blue eyes and sunshine.

Sounds of laughter, of love and life caress your skin, your soul… you shake your head to the rhythm and your eyes slit open, focusing on nothing and everything.

You don’t think of alabaster skin and warm breath. Of callused hands and soft lips.

Of broken sighs in the night. Hands on your face, in your hair.

You let the bruise inside darken, expand…

You do the only thing you can.

You keep dancing.


***

You wonder when it will stop. The constant ache that springs inside when his voice drifts through the telephone line…fills the room as you listen to the same message so many times you lose count.

You marvel at the strength of your voice when you talk with him. Inside it’s all crumbling…falling in pieces and you realize at once, you can’t speak. So you let him talk…let him tell you about his day. His work and new job. His new life.

And inside the bruise blackens…throbs.

You ache for light…for air, and only the sound of your name on his lips pushes you to respond. Hear the worry in his voice, asking how you are.

You do the only thing you can.

You keep lying.


***


You walk in a blur, perplexed at your inability to be who they expect you to be. You can feel Michael’s worried glances as you chew soundlessly on Debbie’s pontenesca. There was nothing you could say to ease his mind. He wanted to see your pain the way you always showed it.

Indifference and fucks and bottles of Beam.

Shit. You wish you could. You reach for more wine and nod when Debbie offers more of her love onto your plate. She hesitates before shoveling it on the white ceramic. Your fork spears the food randomly.

You wanted to break. You wanted to fall.

Bruise and bury and bleed…

You do the only thing you can do.

You maintain the façade.


***


You thought you knew real pain. Had experienced it when your life…your heart lay bleeding on the cold asphalt floor.

When it walked off in a storm of color and rage.

When you pushed it toward dreams and fate.

You follow his light from across the room. Watch as he pulled farther from you…from everything that loved him. You feel sadness at the wave of loss that radiates from those around you. You want to change it.

Tell him to stay. Tell him you were wrong.

But you know you weren’t that.

You feel the warm hand on your shoulder and you turn to see Ben’s bright blue eyes, not as crystal as the pair you’re used to looking into, filled with soft sad understanding and…you smile, wavering.

“Want to go get drunk?” he says, pointing behind him to the group gathered in what could only be called mourning.

You answer with a soft, “Fuck yeah.”

You let the bruise bleed.

You do the only thing you can.

You balm the pain.


***



You know things are different when he stops calling as frequently. You can tell by the way they look at you that they’re waiting for your spiral.

You know you are.

It was the way you had always handled that pain. Proven that you could continue. You would wallow…soothe the bruises with different tongues…different hands…fucking and sucking…high and drunk…you would whirl in your despair, sink into the familiar dark hole that was left when the sun disappeared.

And somehow…you would pull out.

Once, it was for him. Light had shone and you’d been drawn out of the stench you’d built and into warmth.

Later, you’d forced a reason. Pretended to find your way out. Clung to lies and betrayals…until shadows faded into the light and you’d found that you’d never really left the darkness.

This time…the darkness grasps at you…soothing and calling. You yearn to allow it in…fall into its endless abyss.

You lean toward it. You almost touch it.

You do the only thing you can.

You fight it away.

***

Change comes and you settle with it. You talk like the pain doesn’t exist. He becomes a part that you worship. You fall into comfort and familiarity.

It’s harder then you ever thought.

You hear from him often enough. He shares his life the best he can. You accept what he can give. You never see him for more than a passing moment. It’s easier for him you know.

Time passes. Weeks turn into months. Months into years. You tell yourself that it doesn’t matter.

You begin to realize that you have the one thing you never had before.

You yearn and wish and want…and believe. You remember the smile that made your day worthwhile. The laugh that would echo through the loft. Lessons he taught you whisper in your mind. You begin to think that it’s really only time. You want to be everything he saw.

You were supposed to be Brian Kinney.

You realize you still are, even when Michael jokes about the fact that you’ve lost your title as King of Liberty Avenue. You want to laugh at the glare Ben sends him. You exchange glances with Theodore. You wink at Emmett and think he’s always had the right idea.

Fuck ’em all.

You laugh and live and…love. You feel the bruise mend…turn into a pale yellow…sunshine and light.

You do the only thing you can.

You let yourself hope.

Part Five

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