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freakykatTitle: Miles From Where You Are
Genre: Brian/Justin
Series: Part Four of Four (plus Epilogue)
Timeline: post 513
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the "World's Apart challenge" on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
neverenough_bj. Lyrics from "Say It Now" by Glen Hansard.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wouldbedorothy. Thanks!
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Miles from where you are
When a building gets torched, all that's left is ashes. I used to think that was true about everything, families, friends, feelings. But now I know, that sometimes if love proves real, two people who are meant to be together, nothing can keep them apart. -- The Crow
It was a lifetime that had passed.
He could feel it in everything -- in Brian’s touch, mouth, hands, skin, taste -- it was the same and different. It was what he knew and a discovery. Justin felt seventeen and all his thirty-two years at once. He wanted. It was simple. Then all he felt was Brian’s mouth on his, hands fumbling with clothes, pulling him up and stumbling their way across the room.
Scratching at the surface now
And I'm trying hard to work it out
Justin would dream sometimes, memories that surfaced during his unguarded moments. He would recall the feel of Brian pressed against him. The shape of Brian’s back under his fingers… the feel of his pulse on Justin’s tongue. The taste of his skin, intoxicating and never quite satisfying the hunger in him. He always needed more. It was in these dreams that he was allowed to think about Brian. To miss him. To yearn and want. They were always vivid -- so fucking real -- that when he woke up, he could feel Brian. The weight of his cock in Justin’s mouth, the scent overwhelming him…
Those were the times he convinced himself that it hadn’t - couldn’t - have been everything he remembered. That his artistic mind only saw what it wanted to. And then Brian touched him… lips parted under Justin’s, splattered colors all around and god damn it, he really was a fucking liar.
Because it was everything he remembered.
Justin licked down the exposed flesh of Brian’s neck, shivering when he felt, rather than heard, the groan that escaped Brian. A cross between pure joy and a sob vibrated in his own mouth before Brian’s lips crashed down on it, fingers in Justin’s hair, holding on to anything he could reach, as if afraid Justin might disappear.
Hands gripping biceps, Justin fumbled, back hitting floor hard and pulling Brian down with him. It all became flashes… skin exposed, lips bruised against warm, sweat-slicked skin, pants flying off and there was nothing between them but an inch of air. Justin pushed up and rolled them over, taking Brian by surprise. He didn’t wait for a response, attacking mouth and skin. Teeth scraping on chin, trailing over neck and chest, licking nipples. There was the taste of Brian in his mouth, that heady musk of him burning his throat -- hurting and soothing -- making Justin want more, pulling him deeper, fingers clutching at Justin’s head.
And so much has gone misunderstood
This mystery only leads to doubt
Brian pulled him up, kissing him long and hard, taking too much… not enough. They fell apart, foreheads touching briefly, and then Brian turned Justin over, biting and licking the back of his neck, soothing caresses. Tremors ran through him, Brian’s slicked fingers inside him, stretching and twisting, his other arm holding Justin upright.
Justin pushed back onto Brian’s fingers. “Fuck.” He could feel the rumble of laughter coming from behind and spoke before Brian did. “Don’t… even think of saying it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” was the reply whispered in his ear. Justin moaned when a wet tongue flicked out to trace his ear. When Brian curled his fingers, Justin’s insides gave a tumble of sorts. That was what he remembered most. The way he could feel Brian’s touch over, under and between.
“Do you understand now?” Brian’s voice was strained, his chin leaning on Justin’s shoulder, dropping kisses randomly. “Tell me you understand.”
Justin pushed back again, groaning when Brian’s hand wrapped around his aching cock, running fingers over the leaking slit and up the vein that ran underneath the hardened shaft.
“Tell me.”
He couldn’t take it. He needed… wanted… so badly. “Yes. I believe… you.”
It was all Brian needed, and he flipped him over, positioning himself and entering Justin in one fluid movement. Justin lost breath, his lungs constricting from the outpouring of -- damn it -- happiness, and he pushed up, taking more, all, everything that Brian gave. The world burst into shards of colors behind his eyelids and he shattered with them…
#####
So if you have something to say
Say it to me now
Justin wasn’t sure how or when they had managed to make it to his room. It was a blur of kisses, hands, fucking, joy, need, and fear. All he knew was he wanted this, Brian inside him, as deep as possible. He wanted to feel him, to fill that ache that was always there.
Throbbing, never ceasing…
He’d blacked out at one point, whether from exhaustion or pleasure he wasn’t sure, and when his eyes opened all he could see was darkness. He wondered, briefly, if he had dreamt it all. Brian showing up at his door, the conversation with Michael, the gallery, them… but then he felt a heaviness across his back that indicated someone else was with him.
It had been real.
Justin turned his head, stopping when it bumped into Brian’s, and for a moment words escaped him. He was staring into Brian’s sleeping face. Brian’s arm was around him. His body as close to Justin’s as possible. The memories rushed through his mind… all those mornings when he’d wake up pushed up against Brian or when he’d find Brian holding on to him…
Justin blinked away the blurriness from his eyes and gently removed Brian’s grip on him before slipping quietly from the bed. He needed room. To think and breathe. To just be. Justin needed to collect the scattered thoughts in his head. He grabbed the pajama bottoms he’d left lying on the floor the night before and put them on. He glanced back once, smiling despite his turbulent emotions, at the sight of Brian spread across his bed. It was the way he’d always ended up in sleep. Taking over every inch of space.
Dragging his eyes away, Justin walked silently into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffeemaker. He tried not to trip on his way in the dark. Caffeine was essential to his existence at that moment. He needed a clear head to come up with some way to fix this. He wasn’t sure how exactly he could, though. It hadn’t taken even one day before he’d given in to Brian.
He was staring into his empty cup, mind whirling with doubts and second thoughts, when Brian’s voice made him jump.
“Didn’t you know that caffeine is bad for you?”
Justin turned, swallowing down the rush of desire that pulsed through him. Brian stood in Justin’s robe, which - being his - was too small for Brian, eyebrow raised in question.
Justin returned the look. If he could act naturally, like this hadn’t meant everything it had, maybe they could get through it without any more scars. “Oh? Where did you hear that?”
Justin saw the smile play at Brian’s lips before he answered. “This annoying little shit once told me that it caused high blood pressure, heart attacks…” He’d begun to walk to Justin as he spoke and stood only an inch from him now. “Poor sexual performance…” He leaned down to brush his lips against Justin’s and whispered, “…and insomnia.”
He couldn’t believe Brian remembered that, and the proud look on his face made Justin laugh. He leaned up to kiss him. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“Yes. I am.”
Justin sighed. “Brian, come on. Be serious.”
“I’m always serious, Sunshine.”
He pulled away from Brian, heading to the windows and staring out into the night. He felt Brian come up behind him, and a second later his chin rested on Justin’s shoulder, arms encircling his waist.
“You think too fucking much.”
“One of us has to.” Justin turned into Brian’s arms, leaning back to look at his face. “Tell me what happened, Brian.” He covered his mouth with one hand, stroking the side of Brian’s face with the other. “And don’t fucking tell me that it doesn’t matter. I know it does.”
Brian pursed his lips inward, something Justin knew he did only when he was stressed or trying not to be. Trying to ease Brian, he kissed his chin, then throat, and back up to his mouth.
“Tell me.” They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity until finally Brian nodded.
“But not right now.”
“Brian-”
“I want to take a shower and I can’t…” He brushed one hand over his face, and Justin reached up to touch his cheek in silent understanding.
“Fine. Go.”
Brian looked down at him, smirking, and Justin knew what was coming next. He tried not to react, simply waiting. Brian brushed past him, stopping to look back. “You coming?”
Justin shook his head, a puff of laughter escaping. He turned, meeting Brian’s gaze, and surprising them both, grinned widely. He almost laughed at the dazed expression on Brian’s face, and he used it to his advantage, pulling down his pants, discarding them, before walking across the floor and past Brian. “Well, since you asked so nicely and all.”
He heard Brian’s mumbled “Little shit” as he walked into the bathroom…
######
And I'm looking for a sign
In this dark uneasy time
Waking up with Brian brought back feelings that Justin had managed to keep bottled up for so long. Some were good. Like the warmth in his stomach when Brian touched him or the toe-curling kisses he’d give to pull him out of sleep. The feel of Brian’s mouth on his aching cock, the hands that molded to his skin, and the sound of Brian in the morning… The deep, sleep-fogged voice that muttered his name as they both came…
And some weren’t good. Remembering how it felt not having that. The times when it wasn’t just the two of them. The mornings after a fight where the space between them in bed was so wide, he hadn’t been sure if they could ever find each other again. The coldness in that voice when Brian thought pushing him off the cliff was preferable to letting Justin make his own decisions.
Justin pushed those thoughts away as he waited for Brian to tell him the truth. The real reason he was here. He hadn’t forced the issue since that first night, allowing Brian to set the pace, to pick the time. He’d thrown himself into their suddenly revived relationship… counting the hours as they passed. He knew if Brian couldn’t be honest with him… it was over.
It already was. He had meant it when he’d given Brian three days.
They were down to less than one now.
It had been a blur of fucking: at the apartment, in Justin’s car, at the gallery, in the back alley where Brian had caught him by surprise… in the kitchen while Justin had been attempting to make dinner… on the couch where Justin had jumped on Brian while he worked.
Justin knew Brian was up to something. They hadn’t spent every single minute together. While he was working, Brian had been in meetings on the phone and out in the city. He hadn’t asked, mostly because when they were together all Justin wanted was to soak up as much of Brian as he could. To drink in every moment because he was determined this would be it.
He watched Brian instead of concentrating on the painting in front of him. He’d restarted it, using what he had already produced and adding changes he knew it needed. It was monochromatic, blurred figures trailing away from the viewer except for one face, eyes sharp and probing. Justin had no fucking clue what he was going for, but for the first time in a long time, he liked what he was painting.
Brian was walking toward him, and Justin hurried to cover his work. He smiled at the other man as he came to stand next to the painting, not attempting to look at it. Brian knew better. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Brian reached for Justin’s hand, taking the brush out from his fingers and setting it on the easel. Justin allowed him to take off his smock (one of Brian’s old shirts that was left behind) and followed as Brian led him to his bedroom. He waited to see exactly what it was all about. It was unlike Brian to bring them to the bed. They normally ended there but rarely if ever began there. “What’s going on?”
Brian shook his head, eyes serious, and motioned to the bed. “Get in.”
Justin raised an eyebrow.
Brian sighed. “Just -- trust me, okay? Get in.”
He did as Brian asked, lying face up and watching Brian remove his own shirt, leaving him only in his traditional wife beater. It surprised him when Brian spoke again to hear his voice sound so… tense.
“Can you get on your side?”
Justin blinked a few times, but after gauging that, no, Brian was serious, he rolled to his side, listening intently to Brian’s movement. The bed dipped under his weight, and a few moments later, Brian’s hands were on his hips, flexing and smoothing over Justin. It wasn’t unusual for them to lie this way, but Brian had never asked to. It was too… Justin wasn’t sure what, but it was.
He felt Brian’s arms slide around his waist, and after a few seconds, Justin brought one hand down to entwine their fingers. He sighed when Brian’s lips skimmed over the back of his neck. They were spooning, Justin realized, and would have laughed at that if he wasn’t so worried about what was going on in Brian’s head. Brian’s cheek touched his as he lay his head right beside Justin’s.
They laid in silence for several minutes, just breathing in. Justin felt Brian’s heartbeat against his back, the steady rhythm that had always lulled him to sleep. He felt his eyes grow heavy. And then Brian spoke.
“It was like I was seeing you.”
Justin’s eyes flew open and he tried to turn to look at Brian, but strong hands held him in place. Brian’s voice was almost pleading.
“Don’t. I can’t look at you and do this.”
Justin nodded, taking the hand in his and bringing it up to his chest. “Okay.”
Brian cleared his throat. “It’s not that… shit. I’ve missed you for a long time. That’s not any fucking news. You knew that, even if you didn’t want to see it.”
Justin agreed silently. He had known at Ben’s funeral that something between them had changed. But neither of them had said anything, and Justin pretended he’d imagined it.
“I kept insisting that it was fine. That you had Matt and that you had ended up where you belonged. That it wasn’t some big fucking deal when you stopped painting and started the gallery. I ignored Daphne when she told me she thought you weren’t happy. You seemed it when we talked, or on the rare occasions we saw each other.”
“I was pretending,” Justin softly said, before closing his eyes at the words. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that.
“Yeah, well. No shit, Sunshine.” Brian kissed the side of Justin’s face, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Thing was -- I didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. It’s just not me to…”
“Show up at your ex’s door at one in the morning with declarations?”
“Yeah. And stop thinking what you are, because I haven’t finished, okay?”
Justin shrugged, trying not to let the bubble of hopefulness expand further. “Shutting up.”
“That’ll be a first.” Brian stroked Justin’s arm and began speaking again. “There’s a lot of time that’s passed. I’m not -- fuck -- I’m forty-four years old, Justin. Jesus.”
Justin suppressed the laugh that threatened to come out at the despondent note in Brian’s voice. “I’m well aware of that, yes.”
“I’ve spent most of my life, and I don’t regret that, doing what I wanted, fuck what anyone else thinks. Except that -- for a long time now -- I haven’t done that. I’ve done what everyone thinks I should do. I’ve lived up to being Brian Fucking Kinney.” He sighed, muttering under his breath that he was starting to sound like a babbling moron. “I’m never going to be -”
“Normal? Yeah, got that.”
Brian hit Justin’s arm. “Shut up, smartass. We -- I don’t -- I just kept telling myself it was for the better. That you had your happy hetero-like home life and I had my fucking. Then Ben got sick, and we knew it was the end. He’d run out of time. We started taking turns with him so Mikey could have some time away.” Brian buried his face against the crook of Justin’s neck, his warm breath on Justin’s skin as he spoke. “And we got to talk. One day we were bullshitting when he looked at me and said, ‘You’re a fucking moron, Brian. You love him. Fuck what anyone says. Go find him.’ It took me a while to react, because it was so out of left field.”
Justin didn’t dare move. Brian was never like this. Never open or talkative, except when it was important to him. “I would have been surprised, too.”
“When I tried to argue, he wouldn’t listen. Telling me I was a fucking idiot, that I love you, and that what we could build didn’t have to fit any one mold.” Brian laughed a little then. “He said we had always created our own rules, why the fuck stop now. And -- I knew he was right. But, you know…”
“You’re Brian fucking Kinney, right?”
“Exactly. I didn’t listen. I chalked it up to Ben being sick and just -- shoved it away. And then he died. And I saw you again -- and everything he said came back. That just pissed me off. So I spent a year trying to forget it.”
Justin held his breath, already knowing what Brian was going to say. He was going to tell him.
“Then, last week… it’d been a long fucking month. Mikey was depressed, the kids, Debbie… Emmett guessed I needed to do something. So, he forced me to go with him to a new club. Drew was out of town and he wanted someone to go with him. That was what he said, of course. I knew better. But I went.” Brian paused then, seeming to need a moment to collect his thoughts. “We were walking back to the car, trading notes on the dancing and the fucking as usual, and -” Brian took a deep breath as he spoke. “We heard -- it was -- fuck.” This time Brian tried to pull away, but Justin held onto his arms, stroking his hands gently.
“Tell me.”
“Some fucking breeders were taking a -- kid wasn’t more than sixteen years old. I ran without thinking, and I could hear Emmett in the background on the phone. I don’t know what the fuck I was going to do. All I could see was you -- lying on concrete, blood everywhere. I managed to tackle one of them. The other one ran off.”
“What did you do?” Justin’s grip on Brian’s arm was strong, knuckles white. “Did the-”
“I don’t know -- it’s all a fucking blur -- I know I hit the motherfucker enough to cause some damage. I left him lying there and tried to help Emmett with the kid but -- I couldn’t. It was you, on the floor. It was that fucking night coming back.”
“Brian.” Justin turned, struggling against the hands that tried to stop him, shaking from memories of everything that happened, his recovery, the loss of those days. Even after years of therapy, thousands of dollars spent, it scared him to think of that night. It always would. But he knew that for Brian, it was probably worse. He’d never tried to work past it, just shoved it away. And sadly, he remembered it all. “Hey. It’s okay.”
“It’s not fucking okay. I couldn’t -- it was too late. We tried to stop -- but by the time the paramedics got there…” Brian ran a hand over his face. “He didn’t make it. Sixteen fucking years old.”
“Brian.”
“I should have -”
“What?” Justin touched his face, fingers gripping Brian’s chin and forcing him to look at him. “You did everything you could. You were a hero. Just like before.”
“He died.”
“I know that. But that doesn’t stop what you did. You tried.”
“I couldn’t save him and all I could think of was, what if I hadn’t been there that night? What would have happened to you?”
Justin rose on one arm, leaning over Brian. “Hey. I’m here. Look at me. I’m right here. You did save me. I’m here because of you.” He kissed Brian’s mouth until he felt it open beneath his lips, and he breathed in, deepening it until Brian’s hands gripped at his hair. Pulling away, he sighed against Brian’s face. “Don’t feel guilty. Don’t make that the reason you’re here.”
Hazel eyes, haunted and pained, looked into his and Justin felt caught there. Brian’s hands touching his cheeks softly. “You don’t need to hear all this. It’s not fair.”
“I can handle it, Brian. Probably better than you can.”
Brian pushed Justin back, staring into his eyes. “It’s not the reason. It’s the excuse, Justin. I wanted to be here, a year ago. Shit. Longer than that. But I chose to waste time -- I don’t even fucking know why. The reason is because -”
Justin got up fast. “Don’t. Don’t say it. Please.” He walked to the foot of the bed, pacing with anxiety and despair. He couldn’t hear it. “It’s just the shock of it all.”
“Justin.”
“No. I can’t hear it. I can’t take it.” He started to move to his closet. If he said the words, he couldn’t take them back. It would be real. He needed clothes. Had to get out of this room, away from Brian. He couldn’t take this.
Brian came up behind him suddenly, turning Justin and claiming his mouth before anything else could be said. Justin closed his eyes, a part of him wanting to struggle, the other unable to fight. He wrapped his arms around Brian, forgetting the fear for that moment. He sank into the waves that overcame him, taking in everything he couldn’t… wouldn’t from Brian’s words. He forgot that they could never work and let himself believe, for that second, in the lie.
#####
So if you have something to say
Say it to me now
He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. Justin could hear Brian rumblings in the other room. He’d been awake for an hour, listening intently and trying desperately to find a way to do what he had to with the minimum amount of pain. The doorbell rang and he tried to make out what was being said. Giving up finally, he rose from bed, slipping into his bathrobe and stepping outside his bedroom.
Brian was dressed in jeans and a white shirt, phone to his ear. “I understand, Theodore. I can’t be back for a few weeks, though… Yeah, I’m aware of that, but you and Cynthia can handle it.” Brian smirked a little as he spoke. “Well, you’re going to have to. It’s your job now.”
He caught Justin’s eye when he turned and half smiled as he continued. “No, I won’t be back to close down the loft for a while.”
Justin glared at him. They had a deal. Three days.
“No. I have an open date back… Not sure how long I’ll be… Yeah… It looks great… Pretty much as soon as I’m back, we’ll start with the construction. Listen, Ted, I got to go… It leaves tomorrow… Thanks. Yeah. Bye.” He snapped his phone shut and gave Justin a self-satisfied smirk. “Good morning, Sunshine. I ordered breakfast. It’s on the counter.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Brian?”
That was met with an interested look. “Having breakfast, Justin.”
“Don’t be glib with me!”
Brian laughed. “You didn’t actually just say that, did you?”
“Fine. Don’t fucking play with me, asshole. I said three days. I meant three days.”
“I know.” Brian motioned to his feet and Justin noticed his bag.
“Oh.” It took the wind out of his sails… the sight of Brian leaving again. He was confused now. Talking to Ted, it sounding like he wasn’t leaving. “Well, what the fuck was that all about with Teddy?”
“That was a private conversation, Sunshine.”
“If you didn’t want me to hear it, then you shouldn’t have been having it in my house.”
Brian nodded. “True enough. And since you asked so nicely, I was just telling Theodore I would be indisposed for a couple of weeks and to only contact me in a state of emergency… which means he’ll be calling every day, of course.”
Justin shook his head. He was missing something. “So, you’re not going back to the Pitts?”
Brian looked at him now. “I told you I wasn’t.”
“And you’re not staying here?”
“Three days is three days.” Brian continued to stare at him.
Justin crossed his arms. “So, where are you going?”
“Spain.”
Justin blinked, breath catching in his chest. “Ibiza?”
Brian nodded. “Sure. Among a few others.” He reached into his briefcase, pulling out a ticket and placing it on the table. “I want you to come with me.”
Justin opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Brian smiled, closing the briefcase as he talked. “It leaves tomorrow. Ten in the morning. From JFK.”
“You’re insane.” Justin let out a hysterical bubble of laughter. He fell into a chair at the table, glancing at the ticket that sat on it. His name, in that Arial typeface that airline tickets always had. Clear as day. “What the fuck is going on, Brian?”
Brian walked to Justin, kneeling down to meet his eyes. “You’re always telling me I don’t respect your right to make choices. That I push you off the cliff and never let you have a say.” Brian glanced pointedly at the tickets and then back at Justin. “This is your choice. I’m giving you that.”
Justin stared into hazel eyes, as open as he’d ever seen them, and he felt the fear rising to the surface.
Brian held up a hand. “Don’t do it. Don’t fucking run away. It’s what you do, Justin. Anytime I start to sound too real, you get scared and you run. It’s why you left the first time, and it’s why you left the last time.”
“You pushed me away the last time.”
“If I had told you what I wanted, you wouldn’t have believed me. You never do. It’s a fucking no-win situation.” Brian rose up, looking down on Justin. “I’m not saying I want Breeder Avenue with the white picket fence and Volvo.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Yeah. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I want.”
Brian grinned. “It’s what you said you wanted.”
“That was a decade ago, Brian.”
“Glad to hear that’s changed. I can’t promise that I’ll ever be satisfied with any form of hetero lifestyle, but… we’ve always made up our own rules.”
Justin forced himself not to smile. “True.”
“We’ve never been conventional. I don’t think we have to fucking start now.” Brian grabbed his jacket, hanging it from his arm, and headed to his bag. Justin felt a moment of panic.
“So, you’re going to go?”
Brian glanced back at him. “Do you give a shit?”
Justin looked away. “I didn’t say that.”
“You give a shit. Huh. Justin Taylor…”
“Shut the fuck up.” Justin got to his feet and suddenly Brian was in front of him. Leaning in, he kissed him, deeply, one hand on his head, the other wrapped around Justin’s waist.
Pulling back, lips touching Justin’s, he breathed onto his mouth. “Gives a shit.” He leaned away, eyes softening at the fear Justin knew was evident on his face. “I know you can’t hear this.” He tightened his hold when Justin started to pull away, and bringing his mouth to Justin’s ear, he whispered, “I fucking love you. Get over it.”
Justin shook with every emotion raging inside, while every single thing he wanted was there in front of him, and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t say it back.
Brian pulled away, walking to the door. He paused for a moment. “I hope you use that ticket. If you don’t…”
Justin closed his eyes.
“I’ll see you in two weeks.”
Justin’s eyes snapped open. “What?”
“I have to be back then. We start construction on Kinnetik New York.”
Justin blinked. “Wait… what?”
Brian moved a little closer. “I’m opening the New York branch, so I’ll be back. Don’t worry, I booked a suite at the Plaza until I can find a place here. You won’t have to put me up.”
There were no words, really. Brian was moving to New York. For him. He knew that. “Jesus Christ, Brian.”
There was that famous look, the patented “Who gives a fuck?” Kinney one, and Justin allowed the hope to rise. He believed somewhere in his mind that this was real. That it was true. Because Brian was staying. He was staying, and for once he was giving Justin the chance to decide if he wanted to stay with him.
Brian nodded to the table. “I hope you use it.” And then he was gone.
######
So if you have something to say
Say it to me now
He’d been staring at the damn piece of paper for hours now and he was no closer to knowing what to do than he had been before. It was ridiculous. It would never work. He and Brian always fell apart. It was their gift. Justin laughed sadly. It was what they always did. Their pattern… Brian couldn’t change. Justin got frustrated. Brian would hide. Justin would get angry. Something would happen. Brian would freak and go to the extreme. Justin would run away.
Except this time…
It wasn’t like that. Brian hadn’t fought it. He had changed. Not completely. Not to where it wasn’t him, but -- Justin ran a hand through his hair. He’d handed Justin the reins and stepped away. It was up to him now.
He could have everything he wanted. If he let himself.
He just didn’t know if he could.
The painting stood in front of him, half-finished, promising but unsure. It was there. What he wanted out of it. But his fear, his uncertainty wouldn’t let him find it. Justin rose, eyes taking in all the strokes, those obvious, those subtle… and it came… slowly. He reached for the brush, frantic strokes taking over. Colors reviving, changing, becoming deeper… gaining vitality. He did this for hours, not stopping, knowing if he did… it might disappear altogether.
When it was done, he stepped back, taking it all in. It wasn’t perfect yet. But he’d begun, and he knew it would be unique. One of a kind. Like nothing else he’d ever paint. The smile that spread across his face was wide, and Justin let out a laugh, free and real.
He brushed stained hands on his pants, not caring about the paint, and picked up the handheld that always lay close to his side when he was working. He pressed one of the speed dial buttons, making a list as he moved through his apartment. He had a lot to do.
“Fucking hell, J. Do you know it’s like two in the fucking morning?”, was the surly greeting when the line was finally picked up.
“I didn’t interrupt anything.” Justin smiled into the phone.
“Now, how would you know that? Steve and I could have been playing Little Bo Peep and the Big Bad Wolf, for all you know.”
“Which one of you is which?”
David snorted. “Do you need to ask? You know he’s my bitch. Ow! What the… oh, hey honey. I was joking!”
Justin laughed and called out. “David! I’m not coming in tomorrow. Well, today. Or the next day.”
There was silence. “Uh-huh. You’re not?”
“No, I won’t be in for a couple of weeks. Just cancel all meetings and, you know, try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”
There was a pause. “This have anything to do with Mr. Fucking Gorgeous Kinney?”
Justin said nothing, grabbing the ticket from the counter as he walked to his room. Smiling, he said quietly, “Let’s just say I’m going on a long overdue trip.”
Epilogue
Yay! I wanted to get this posted before blackout and I did. Woot! I'm hoping to have the Epilogue up later today. I'll have more to post after blackout. It's good. Time to write. Anyway, thanks for the patience, guys. I hope you enjoyed this. Only one little bitty part left so this is pretty much done. :)
Genre: Brian/Justin
Series: Part Four of Four (plus Epilogue)
Timeline: post 513
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the "World's Apart challenge" on
neverenough_bj. Lyrics from "Say It Now" by Glen Hansard.Beta:
wouldbedorothy. Thanks! Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Miles from where you are
When a building gets torched, all that's left is ashes. I used to think that was true about everything, families, friends, feelings. But now I know, that sometimes if love proves real, two people who are meant to be together, nothing can keep them apart. -- The Crow
It was a lifetime that had passed.
He could feel it in everything -- in Brian’s touch, mouth, hands, skin, taste -- it was the same and different. It was what he knew and a discovery. Justin felt seventeen and all his thirty-two years at once. He wanted. It was simple. Then all he felt was Brian’s mouth on his, hands fumbling with clothes, pulling him up and stumbling their way across the room.
Scratching at the surface now
And I'm trying hard to work it out
Justin would dream sometimes, memories that surfaced during his unguarded moments. He would recall the feel of Brian pressed against him. The shape of Brian’s back under his fingers… the feel of his pulse on Justin’s tongue. The taste of his skin, intoxicating and never quite satisfying the hunger in him. He always needed more. It was in these dreams that he was allowed to think about Brian. To miss him. To yearn and want. They were always vivid -- so fucking real -- that when he woke up, he could feel Brian. The weight of his cock in Justin’s mouth, the scent overwhelming him…
Those were the times he convinced himself that it hadn’t - couldn’t - have been everything he remembered. That his artistic mind only saw what it wanted to. And then Brian touched him… lips parted under Justin’s, splattered colors all around and god damn it, he really was a fucking liar.
Because it was everything he remembered.
Justin licked down the exposed flesh of Brian’s neck, shivering when he felt, rather than heard, the groan that escaped Brian. A cross between pure joy and a sob vibrated in his own mouth before Brian’s lips crashed down on it, fingers in Justin’s hair, holding on to anything he could reach, as if afraid Justin might disappear.
Hands gripping biceps, Justin fumbled, back hitting floor hard and pulling Brian down with him. It all became flashes… skin exposed, lips bruised against warm, sweat-slicked skin, pants flying off and there was nothing between them but an inch of air. Justin pushed up and rolled them over, taking Brian by surprise. He didn’t wait for a response, attacking mouth and skin. Teeth scraping on chin, trailing over neck and chest, licking nipples. There was the taste of Brian in his mouth, that heady musk of him burning his throat -- hurting and soothing -- making Justin want more, pulling him deeper, fingers clutching at Justin’s head.
And so much has gone misunderstood
This mystery only leads to doubt
Brian pulled him up, kissing him long and hard, taking too much… not enough. They fell apart, foreheads touching briefly, and then Brian turned Justin over, biting and licking the back of his neck, soothing caresses. Tremors ran through him, Brian’s slicked fingers inside him, stretching and twisting, his other arm holding Justin upright.
Justin pushed back onto Brian’s fingers. “Fuck.” He could feel the rumble of laughter coming from behind and spoke before Brian did. “Don’t… even think of saying it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” was the reply whispered in his ear. Justin moaned when a wet tongue flicked out to trace his ear. When Brian curled his fingers, Justin’s insides gave a tumble of sorts. That was what he remembered most. The way he could feel Brian’s touch over, under and between.
“Do you understand now?” Brian’s voice was strained, his chin leaning on Justin’s shoulder, dropping kisses randomly. “Tell me you understand.”
Justin pushed back again, groaning when Brian’s hand wrapped around his aching cock, running fingers over the leaking slit and up the vein that ran underneath the hardened shaft.
“Tell me.”
He couldn’t take it. He needed… wanted… so badly. “Yes. I believe… you.”
It was all Brian needed, and he flipped him over, positioning himself and entering Justin in one fluid movement. Justin lost breath, his lungs constricting from the outpouring of -- damn it -- happiness, and he pushed up, taking more, all, everything that Brian gave. The world burst into shards of colors behind his eyelids and he shattered with them…
#####
So if you have something to say
Say it to me now
Justin wasn’t sure how or when they had managed to make it to his room. It was a blur of kisses, hands, fucking, joy, need, and fear. All he knew was he wanted this, Brian inside him, as deep as possible. He wanted to feel him, to fill that ache that was always there.
Throbbing, never ceasing…
He’d blacked out at one point, whether from exhaustion or pleasure he wasn’t sure, and when his eyes opened all he could see was darkness. He wondered, briefly, if he had dreamt it all. Brian showing up at his door, the conversation with Michael, the gallery, them… but then he felt a heaviness across his back that indicated someone else was with him.
It had been real.
Justin turned his head, stopping when it bumped into Brian’s, and for a moment words escaped him. He was staring into Brian’s sleeping face. Brian’s arm was around him. His body as close to Justin’s as possible. The memories rushed through his mind… all those mornings when he’d wake up pushed up against Brian or when he’d find Brian holding on to him…
Justin blinked away the blurriness from his eyes and gently removed Brian’s grip on him before slipping quietly from the bed. He needed room. To think and breathe. To just be. Justin needed to collect the scattered thoughts in his head. He grabbed the pajama bottoms he’d left lying on the floor the night before and put them on. He glanced back once, smiling despite his turbulent emotions, at the sight of Brian spread across his bed. It was the way he’d always ended up in sleep. Taking over every inch of space.
Dragging his eyes away, Justin walked silently into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffeemaker. He tried not to trip on his way in the dark. Caffeine was essential to his existence at that moment. He needed a clear head to come up with some way to fix this. He wasn’t sure how exactly he could, though. It hadn’t taken even one day before he’d given in to Brian.
He was staring into his empty cup, mind whirling with doubts and second thoughts, when Brian’s voice made him jump.
“Didn’t you know that caffeine is bad for you?”
Justin turned, swallowing down the rush of desire that pulsed through him. Brian stood in Justin’s robe, which - being his - was too small for Brian, eyebrow raised in question.
Justin returned the look. If he could act naturally, like this hadn’t meant everything it had, maybe they could get through it without any more scars. “Oh? Where did you hear that?”
Justin saw the smile play at Brian’s lips before he answered. “This annoying little shit once told me that it caused high blood pressure, heart attacks…” He’d begun to walk to Justin as he spoke and stood only an inch from him now. “Poor sexual performance…” He leaned down to brush his lips against Justin’s and whispered, “…and insomnia.”
He couldn’t believe Brian remembered that, and the proud look on his face made Justin laugh. He leaned up to kiss him. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“Yes. I am.”
Justin sighed. “Brian, come on. Be serious.”
“I’m always serious, Sunshine.”
He pulled away from Brian, heading to the windows and staring out into the night. He felt Brian come up behind him, and a second later his chin rested on Justin’s shoulder, arms encircling his waist.
“You think too fucking much.”
“One of us has to.” Justin turned into Brian’s arms, leaning back to look at his face. “Tell me what happened, Brian.” He covered his mouth with one hand, stroking the side of Brian’s face with the other. “And don’t fucking tell me that it doesn’t matter. I know it does.”
Brian pursed his lips inward, something Justin knew he did only when he was stressed or trying not to be. Trying to ease Brian, he kissed his chin, then throat, and back up to his mouth.
“Tell me.” They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity until finally Brian nodded.
“But not right now.”
“Brian-”
“I want to take a shower and I can’t…” He brushed one hand over his face, and Justin reached up to touch his cheek in silent understanding.
“Fine. Go.”
Brian looked down at him, smirking, and Justin knew what was coming next. He tried not to react, simply waiting. Brian brushed past him, stopping to look back. “You coming?”
Justin shook his head, a puff of laughter escaping. He turned, meeting Brian’s gaze, and surprising them both, grinned widely. He almost laughed at the dazed expression on Brian’s face, and he used it to his advantage, pulling down his pants, discarding them, before walking across the floor and past Brian. “Well, since you asked so nicely and all.”
He heard Brian’s mumbled “Little shit” as he walked into the bathroom…
######
And I'm looking for a sign
In this dark uneasy time
Waking up with Brian brought back feelings that Justin had managed to keep bottled up for so long. Some were good. Like the warmth in his stomach when Brian touched him or the toe-curling kisses he’d give to pull him out of sleep. The feel of Brian’s mouth on his aching cock, the hands that molded to his skin, and the sound of Brian in the morning… The deep, sleep-fogged voice that muttered his name as they both came…
And some weren’t good. Remembering how it felt not having that. The times when it wasn’t just the two of them. The mornings after a fight where the space between them in bed was so wide, he hadn’t been sure if they could ever find each other again. The coldness in that voice when Brian thought pushing him off the cliff was preferable to letting Justin make his own decisions.
Justin pushed those thoughts away as he waited for Brian to tell him the truth. The real reason he was here. He hadn’t forced the issue since that first night, allowing Brian to set the pace, to pick the time. He’d thrown himself into their suddenly revived relationship… counting the hours as they passed. He knew if Brian couldn’t be honest with him… it was over.
It already was. He had meant it when he’d given Brian three days.
They were down to less than one now.
It had been a blur of fucking: at the apartment, in Justin’s car, at the gallery, in the back alley where Brian had caught him by surprise… in the kitchen while Justin had been attempting to make dinner… on the couch where Justin had jumped on Brian while he worked.
Justin knew Brian was up to something. They hadn’t spent every single minute together. While he was working, Brian had been in meetings on the phone and out in the city. He hadn’t asked, mostly because when they were together all Justin wanted was to soak up as much of Brian as he could. To drink in every moment because he was determined this would be it.
He watched Brian instead of concentrating on the painting in front of him. He’d restarted it, using what he had already produced and adding changes he knew it needed. It was monochromatic, blurred figures trailing away from the viewer except for one face, eyes sharp and probing. Justin had no fucking clue what he was going for, but for the first time in a long time, he liked what he was painting.
Brian was walking toward him, and Justin hurried to cover his work. He smiled at the other man as he came to stand next to the painting, not attempting to look at it. Brian knew better. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Brian reached for Justin’s hand, taking the brush out from his fingers and setting it on the easel. Justin allowed him to take off his smock (one of Brian’s old shirts that was left behind) and followed as Brian led him to his bedroom. He waited to see exactly what it was all about. It was unlike Brian to bring them to the bed. They normally ended there but rarely if ever began there. “What’s going on?”
Brian shook his head, eyes serious, and motioned to the bed. “Get in.”
Justin raised an eyebrow.
Brian sighed. “Just -- trust me, okay? Get in.”
He did as Brian asked, lying face up and watching Brian remove his own shirt, leaving him only in his traditional wife beater. It surprised him when Brian spoke again to hear his voice sound so… tense.
“Can you get on your side?”
Justin blinked a few times, but after gauging that, no, Brian was serious, he rolled to his side, listening intently to Brian’s movement. The bed dipped under his weight, and a few moments later, Brian’s hands were on his hips, flexing and smoothing over Justin. It wasn’t unusual for them to lie this way, but Brian had never asked to. It was too… Justin wasn’t sure what, but it was.
He felt Brian’s arms slide around his waist, and after a few seconds, Justin brought one hand down to entwine their fingers. He sighed when Brian’s lips skimmed over the back of his neck. They were spooning, Justin realized, and would have laughed at that if he wasn’t so worried about what was going on in Brian’s head. Brian’s cheek touched his as he lay his head right beside Justin’s.
They laid in silence for several minutes, just breathing in. Justin felt Brian’s heartbeat against his back, the steady rhythm that had always lulled him to sleep. He felt his eyes grow heavy. And then Brian spoke.
“It was like I was seeing you.”
Justin’s eyes flew open and he tried to turn to look at Brian, but strong hands held him in place. Brian’s voice was almost pleading.
“Don’t. I can’t look at you and do this.”
Justin nodded, taking the hand in his and bringing it up to his chest. “Okay.”
Brian cleared his throat. “It’s not that… shit. I’ve missed you for a long time. That’s not any fucking news. You knew that, even if you didn’t want to see it.”
Justin agreed silently. He had known at Ben’s funeral that something between them had changed. But neither of them had said anything, and Justin pretended he’d imagined it.
“I kept insisting that it was fine. That you had Matt and that you had ended up where you belonged. That it wasn’t some big fucking deal when you stopped painting and started the gallery. I ignored Daphne when she told me she thought you weren’t happy. You seemed it when we talked, or on the rare occasions we saw each other.”
“I was pretending,” Justin softly said, before closing his eyes at the words. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that.
“Yeah, well. No shit, Sunshine.” Brian kissed the side of Justin’s face, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Thing was -- I didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. It’s just not me to…”
“Show up at your ex’s door at one in the morning with declarations?”
“Yeah. And stop thinking what you are, because I haven’t finished, okay?”
Justin shrugged, trying not to let the bubble of hopefulness expand further. “Shutting up.”
“That’ll be a first.” Brian stroked Justin’s arm and began speaking again. “There’s a lot of time that’s passed. I’m not -- fuck -- I’m forty-four years old, Justin. Jesus.”
Justin suppressed the laugh that threatened to come out at the despondent note in Brian’s voice. “I’m well aware of that, yes.”
“I’ve spent most of my life, and I don’t regret that, doing what I wanted, fuck what anyone else thinks. Except that -- for a long time now -- I haven’t done that. I’ve done what everyone thinks I should do. I’ve lived up to being Brian Fucking Kinney.” He sighed, muttering under his breath that he was starting to sound like a babbling moron. “I’m never going to be -”
“Normal? Yeah, got that.”
Brian hit Justin’s arm. “Shut up, smartass. We -- I don’t -- I just kept telling myself it was for the better. That you had your happy hetero-like home life and I had my fucking. Then Ben got sick, and we knew it was the end. He’d run out of time. We started taking turns with him so Mikey could have some time away.” Brian buried his face against the crook of Justin’s neck, his warm breath on Justin’s skin as he spoke. “And we got to talk. One day we were bullshitting when he looked at me and said, ‘You’re a fucking moron, Brian. You love him. Fuck what anyone says. Go find him.’ It took me a while to react, because it was so out of left field.”
Justin didn’t dare move. Brian was never like this. Never open or talkative, except when it was important to him. “I would have been surprised, too.”
“When I tried to argue, he wouldn’t listen. Telling me I was a fucking idiot, that I love you, and that what we could build didn’t have to fit any one mold.” Brian laughed a little then. “He said we had always created our own rules, why the fuck stop now. And -- I knew he was right. But, you know…”
“You’re Brian fucking Kinney, right?”
“Exactly. I didn’t listen. I chalked it up to Ben being sick and just -- shoved it away. And then he died. And I saw you again -- and everything he said came back. That just pissed me off. So I spent a year trying to forget it.”
Justin held his breath, already knowing what Brian was going to say. He was going to tell him.
“Then, last week… it’d been a long fucking month. Mikey was depressed, the kids, Debbie… Emmett guessed I needed to do something. So, he forced me to go with him to a new club. Drew was out of town and he wanted someone to go with him. That was what he said, of course. I knew better. But I went.” Brian paused then, seeming to need a moment to collect his thoughts. “We were walking back to the car, trading notes on the dancing and the fucking as usual, and -” Brian took a deep breath as he spoke. “We heard -- it was -- fuck.” This time Brian tried to pull away, but Justin held onto his arms, stroking his hands gently.
“Tell me.”
“Some fucking breeders were taking a -- kid wasn’t more than sixteen years old. I ran without thinking, and I could hear Emmett in the background on the phone. I don’t know what the fuck I was going to do. All I could see was you -- lying on concrete, blood everywhere. I managed to tackle one of them. The other one ran off.”
“What did you do?” Justin’s grip on Brian’s arm was strong, knuckles white. “Did the-”
“I don’t know -- it’s all a fucking blur -- I know I hit the motherfucker enough to cause some damage. I left him lying there and tried to help Emmett with the kid but -- I couldn’t. It was you, on the floor. It was that fucking night coming back.”
“Brian.” Justin turned, struggling against the hands that tried to stop him, shaking from memories of everything that happened, his recovery, the loss of those days. Even after years of therapy, thousands of dollars spent, it scared him to think of that night. It always would. But he knew that for Brian, it was probably worse. He’d never tried to work past it, just shoved it away. And sadly, he remembered it all. “Hey. It’s okay.”
“It’s not fucking okay. I couldn’t -- it was too late. We tried to stop -- but by the time the paramedics got there…” Brian ran a hand over his face. “He didn’t make it. Sixteen fucking years old.”
“Brian.”
“I should have -”
“What?” Justin touched his face, fingers gripping Brian’s chin and forcing him to look at him. “You did everything you could. You were a hero. Just like before.”
“He died.”
“I know that. But that doesn’t stop what you did. You tried.”
“I couldn’t save him and all I could think of was, what if I hadn’t been there that night? What would have happened to you?”
Justin rose on one arm, leaning over Brian. “Hey. I’m here. Look at me. I’m right here. You did save me. I’m here because of you.” He kissed Brian’s mouth until he felt it open beneath his lips, and he breathed in, deepening it until Brian’s hands gripped at his hair. Pulling away, he sighed against Brian’s face. “Don’t feel guilty. Don’t make that the reason you’re here.”
Hazel eyes, haunted and pained, looked into his and Justin felt caught there. Brian’s hands touching his cheeks softly. “You don’t need to hear all this. It’s not fair.”
“I can handle it, Brian. Probably better than you can.”
Brian pushed Justin back, staring into his eyes. “It’s not the reason. It’s the excuse, Justin. I wanted to be here, a year ago. Shit. Longer than that. But I chose to waste time -- I don’t even fucking know why. The reason is because -”
Justin got up fast. “Don’t. Don’t say it. Please.” He walked to the foot of the bed, pacing with anxiety and despair. He couldn’t hear it. “It’s just the shock of it all.”
“Justin.”
“No. I can’t hear it. I can’t take it.” He started to move to his closet. If he said the words, he couldn’t take them back. It would be real. He needed clothes. Had to get out of this room, away from Brian. He couldn’t take this.
Brian came up behind him suddenly, turning Justin and claiming his mouth before anything else could be said. Justin closed his eyes, a part of him wanting to struggle, the other unable to fight. He wrapped his arms around Brian, forgetting the fear for that moment. He sank into the waves that overcame him, taking in everything he couldn’t… wouldn’t from Brian’s words. He forgot that they could never work and let himself believe, for that second, in the lie.
#####
So if you have something to say
Say it to me now
He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. Justin could hear Brian rumblings in the other room. He’d been awake for an hour, listening intently and trying desperately to find a way to do what he had to with the minimum amount of pain. The doorbell rang and he tried to make out what was being said. Giving up finally, he rose from bed, slipping into his bathrobe and stepping outside his bedroom.
Brian was dressed in jeans and a white shirt, phone to his ear. “I understand, Theodore. I can’t be back for a few weeks, though… Yeah, I’m aware of that, but you and Cynthia can handle it.” Brian smirked a little as he spoke. “Well, you’re going to have to. It’s your job now.”
He caught Justin’s eye when he turned and half smiled as he continued. “No, I won’t be back to close down the loft for a while.”
Justin glared at him. They had a deal. Three days.
“No. I have an open date back… Not sure how long I’ll be… Yeah… It looks great… Pretty much as soon as I’m back, we’ll start with the construction. Listen, Ted, I got to go… It leaves tomorrow… Thanks. Yeah. Bye.” He snapped his phone shut and gave Justin a self-satisfied smirk. “Good morning, Sunshine. I ordered breakfast. It’s on the counter.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Brian?”
That was met with an interested look. “Having breakfast, Justin.”
“Don’t be glib with me!”
Brian laughed. “You didn’t actually just say that, did you?”
“Fine. Don’t fucking play with me, asshole. I said three days. I meant three days.”
“I know.” Brian motioned to his feet and Justin noticed his bag.
“Oh.” It took the wind out of his sails… the sight of Brian leaving again. He was confused now. Talking to Ted, it sounding like he wasn’t leaving. “Well, what the fuck was that all about with Teddy?”
“That was a private conversation, Sunshine.”
“If you didn’t want me to hear it, then you shouldn’t have been having it in my house.”
Brian nodded. “True enough. And since you asked so nicely, I was just telling Theodore I would be indisposed for a couple of weeks and to only contact me in a state of emergency… which means he’ll be calling every day, of course.”
Justin shook his head. He was missing something. “So, you’re not going back to the Pitts?”
Brian looked at him now. “I told you I wasn’t.”
“And you’re not staying here?”
“Three days is three days.” Brian continued to stare at him.
Justin crossed his arms. “So, where are you going?”
“Spain.”
Justin blinked, breath catching in his chest. “Ibiza?”
Brian nodded. “Sure. Among a few others.” He reached into his briefcase, pulling out a ticket and placing it on the table. “I want you to come with me.”
Justin opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Brian smiled, closing the briefcase as he talked. “It leaves tomorrow. Ten in the morning. From JFK.”
“You’re insane.” Justin let out a hysterical bubble of laughter. He fell into a chair at the table, glancing at the ticket that sat on it. His name, in that Arial typeface that airline tickets always had. Clear as day. “What the fuck is going on, Brian?”
Brian walked to Justin, kneeling down to meet his eyes. “You’re always telling me I don’t respect your right to make choices. That I push you off the cliff and never let you have a say.” Brian glanced pointedly at the tickets and then back at Justin. “This is your choice. I’m giving you that.”
Justin stared into hazel eyes, as open as he’d ever seen them, and he felt the fear rising to the surface.
Brian held up a hand. “Don’t do it. Don’t fucking run away. It’s what you do, Justin. Anytime I start to sound too real, you get scared and you run. It’s why you left the first time, and it’s why you left the last time.”
“You pushed me away the last time.”
“If I had told you what I wanted, you wouldn’t have believed me. You never do. It’s a fucking no-win situation.” Brian rose up, looking down on Justin. “I’m not saying I want Breeder Avenue with the white picket fence and Volvo.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Yeah. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I want.”
Brian grinned. “It’s what you said you wanted.”
“That was a decade ago, Brian.”
“Glad to hear that’s changed. I can’t promise that I’ll ever be satisfied with any form of hetero lifestyle, but… we’ve always made up our own rules.”
Justin forced himself not to smile. “True.”
“We’ve never been conventional. I don’t think we have to fucking start now.” Brian grabbed his jacket, hanging it from his arm, and headed to his bag. Justin felt a moment of panic.
“So, you’re going to go?”
Brian glanced back at him. “Do you give a shit?”
Justin looked away. “I didn’t say that.”
“You give a shit. Huh. Justin Taylor…”
“Shut the fuck up.” Justin got to his feet and suddenly Brian was in front of him. Leaning in, he kissed him, deeply, one hand on his head, the other wrapped around Justin’s waist.
Pulling back, lips touching Justin’s, he breathed onto his mouth. “Gives a shit.” He leaned away, eyes softening at the fear Justin knew was evident on his face. “I know you can’t hear this.” He tightened his hold when Justin started to pull away, and bringing his mouth to Justin’s ear, he whispered, “I fucking love you. Get over it.”
Justin shook with every emotion raging inside, while every single thing he wanted was there in front of him, and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t say it back.
Brian pulled away, walking to the door. He paused for a moment. “I hope you use that ticket. If you don’t…”
Justin closed his eyes.
“I’ll see you in two weeks.”
Justin’s eyes snapped open. “What?”
“I have to be back then. We start construction on Kinnetik New York.”
Justin blinked. “Wait… what?”
Brian moved a little closer. “I’m opening the New York branch, so I’ll be back. Don’t worry, I booked a suite at the Plaza until I can find a place here. You won’t have to put me up.”
There were no words, really. Brian was moving to New York. For him. He knew that. “Jesus Christ, Brian.”
There was that famous look, the patented “Who gives a fuck?” Kinney one, and Justin allowed the hope to rise. He believed somewhere in his mind that this was real. That it was true. Because Brian was staying. He was staying, and for once he was giving Justin the chance to decide if he wanted to stay with him.
Brian nodded to the table. “I hope you use it.” And then he was gone.
######
So if you have something to say
Say it to me now
He’d been staring at the damn piece of paper for hours now and he was no closer to knowing what to do than he had been before. It was ridiculous. It would never work. He and Brian always fell apart. It was their gift. Justin laughed sadly. It was what they always did. Their pattern… Brian couldn’t change. Justin got frustrated. Brian would hide. Justin would get angry. Something would happen. Brian would freak and go to the extreme. Justin would run away.
Except this time…
It wasn’t like that. Brian hadn’t fought it. He had changed. Not completely. Not to where it wasn’t him, but -- Justin ran a hand through his hair. He’d handed Justin the reins and stepped away. It was up to him now.
He could have everything he wanted. If he let himself.
He just didn’t know if he could.
The painting stood in front of him, half-finished, promising but unsure. It was there. What he wanted out of it. But his fear, his uncertainty wouldn’t let him find it. Justin rose, eyes taking in all the strokes, those obvious, those subtle… and it came… slowly. He reached for the brush, frantic strokes taking over. Colors reviving, changing, becoming deeper… gaining vitality. He did this for hours, not stopping, knowing if he did… it might disappear altogether.
When it was done, he stepped back, taking it all in. It wasn’t perfect yet. But he’d begun, and he knew it would be unique. One of a kind. Like nothing else he’d ever paint. The smile that spread across his face was wide, and Justin let out a laugh, free and real.
He brushed stained hands on his pants, not caring about the paint, and picked up the handheld that always lay close to his side when he was working. He pressed one of the speed dial buttons, making a list as he moved through his apartment. He had a lot to do.
“Fucking hell, J. Do you know it’s like two in the fucking morning?”, was the surly greeting when the line was finally picked up.
“I didn’t interrupt anything.” Justin smiled into the phone.
“Now, how would you know that? Steve and I could have been playing Little Bo Peep and the Big Bad Wolf, for all you know.”
“Which one of you is which?”
David snorted. “Do you need to ask? You know he’s my bitch. Ow! What the… oh, hey honey. I was joking!”
Justin laughed and called out. “David! I’m not coming in tomorrow. Well, today. Or the next day.”
There was silence. “Uh-huh. You’re not?”
“No, I won’t be in for a couple of weeks. Just cancel all meetings and, you know, try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”
There was a pause. “This have anything to do with Mr. Fucking Gorgeous Kinney?”
Justin said nothing, grabbing the ticket from the counter as he walked to his room. Smiling, he said quietly, “Let’s just say I’m going on a long overdue trip.”
Epilogue
Yay! I wanted to get this posted before blackout and I did. Woot! I'm hoping to have the Epilogue up later today. I'll have more to post after blackout. It's good. Time to write. Anyway, thanks for the patience, guys. I hope you enjoyed this. Only one little bitty part left so this is pretty much done. :)
