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flowrs4opheliaTitle: Precious
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flowrs4ophelia
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Brian/Justin
Summary: Too many times it has taken some kind of tragedy to bring Justin and Brian closer together.
Previous chapters: Prologue | I | II | III | IV | V
Notes: Does it ever seem to you like the only time you really feel like doing something like work on fanfic is when you don't really have the time to be doing it? I have horrible luck with this. Like last week, when my college had one of the first snow days in its history, two days in fact, I was so excited because it meant I could work on this....and then I just spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at my laptop screen feeling like my brain had dried up into a raisin, unable to even come up with a good first sentence for part 6. Stuck in my house for two days with hardly any snacks and writer's block. Nightmare. Luckily, I got over it, just in time for schoolwork to start piling up again. ::sigh::
Anyway, I was looking back at what I wrote when I posted the prologue about how this probably wouldn't get to be much longer than six chapters. Well, that was somewhat right, because with the way I have the rest of this planned out, it's going to be eight. I feel kind of obligated to warn you that the last chapter is going to be very short in comparison to the others, almost kind of like an epilogue except more important. The next part, however, could easily turn out to be a really long sucker because there's a whole lot that has to happen in it. So we are getting pretty close to the end, which actually kind of makes me sad to think about because I've loved writing this so much.
p a r t | s i x
Brian has been to several funerals before. They are all pretty much the same, he thought after a while. This one is not the same.
Molly was cremated, so there is no body or even a closed casket to see, just a long table behind all of the rows of seats in the funeral home with various possessions of hers on it representing her. They remind Brian of seeing her bedroom, except it’s not quite the same because these things have been chosen and neatly set up to give a specific impression of what kind of person she was. There is a pair of ice skates, an old teddy bear, a Harry Potter book still bookmarked near the middle, and a wrist cast with so many signatures and drawings on it that there is hardly any white left on it. He can only guess there is some story to go along with everything here, or two, or an innumerable number of stories. Innumerable, but not infinite. Five years from now, then ten, then twenty, then forty, the ones who loved her may never stop thinking every once in a while, How old would she have been now? and then doing the math in their heads, but no matter how long she is in their thoughts the number will always be stopped at 13.
Behind all of these things and some vases of flowers on the table are standing boards that are plastered with photos of her from infancy to pre-teen age, pouting with food all over her face and smiling wide in sunglasses and all dressed up in something sparkly and blue. In the very center is a framed drawing of her looking no older than eight that he can tell must have been drawn by Justin even though he’s never seen it before.
When she was eight, Justin was seventeen. There was so much he did not care to get to know about him back then. All that interested him was the drawing Justin did of him. Or so he thought. There are so many things he never even thought about before this week.
Like: would it feel like you are not getting some kind of necessary closure and being able to properly say goodbye if you could not see the body? Without that, would it still not seem quite real? But the body is not really her. These things on the table are not her, either. If they were, if there was anything of her left, there would not be a bunch of young girls in the seats around him smothering their faces with tissues and sitting stiffly like they’re trying to stay still, though occasionally one audible sob will escape from one of them accompanied by a little tremble of their back and someone beside them will respond by putting an arm across their shoulders.
It’s different in the front row, where Justin and his parents and some other relatives of his are all sitting and hardly moving.
The night before Justin came over to the loft because he got tired of sitting alone in his room. That was what he said. Brian had an idea that with what the next day would bring looming over him he just didn’t feel like thinking about it too much. He and Brian sat on the sofa watching Breakfast At Tiffany’s on TV with their feet up on the coffee table, each of them facing inward a little so their feet were resting closer together than they were actually sitting. Justin said things like “Holly Golightly’s kind of like you” and “I fucking hate this commercial,” anything but what was really on his mind. Brian didn’t mind. But it bothered him a little to think that there might be some things Justin didn’t feel like he could say to him. Justin was starting to fall asleep on his shoulder by the time Holly and Paul were kissing in the rain, and he nudged him back into alertness to keep him awake long enough to drive him back to the house.
When a minister gets up at the podium and starts speaking words about peace in heaven and being with Jesus that are surely meant to give some kind of comfort to all of these people, Brian’s mind wanders a little after five minutes because all of it doesn’t mean any more to him than a lecture on how to do an algebra equation. Like Lindsay said, there isn’t really anything you can say anyway. Then one of Justin’s uncles and some other people who knew her get up and share memories of Molly, including a neighbor who lived next to them when Jennifer and Craig were still married and never forgot a day when Molly was very little that she picked some flowers out of their yard and after being told that wasn’t nice she tried to put them back. That story, at least, has some people laughing lightly for a second.
Then, suddenly, it’s over. And it seems like unlike the other funerals Brian has been to, this one felt inadequate somehow. It is like they have all been watching a comedian for an hour and he never even got to the punchline of the joke, the answer, the reason. Because there is none.
“I totally went to middle school with one of the girls who was there,” Hunter says in the back seat of Brian’s car as he is driving him, Michael, and Ben to Jennifer’s house afterwards. “That’s fucked up, man.”
“Which one?” asks Ben.
“The blond wearing green who came up and talked. Her name’s Natalie...something. Beckman or something that sounds like that.”
“Why is that fucked up?” Michael asks.
“I don’t know, it just is. Who thought I’d run into her again at a funeral?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Ben says.
When they get to the house, they see Ted’s car among the numerous ones already there, meaning Melanie, Lindsay, and Emmett are there, too. When they get inside and make their way through more flower arrangement-adorned tables and groups of people standing and talking they find them already congregated in the living room sitting together, and Justin is sitting next to Melanie with Gus watching as he draws something on the back of a magazine.
“Gus, are you bothering Justin?” Brian asks as he comes up to them.
Justin looks up. “It’s okay. He asked me to play hangman.”
“Oh, did he?” Brian says, laughing. “Well, try not to use too many big words,” he jokes, kicking Justin’s foot lightly with his own.
Justin looks at him with something that actually resembles his usual smile, and for a moment Brian feels a small trace of that warmth it used to make him feel, like something is filling him up with light. Then when the feeling passes there is just that indescribable deep ache again, and Brian doesn’t know where they are. The past is so solid and understandable and the present is just an elusive mystery. But he can’t think about those things right now.
Brian picks Gus up from the seat and then takes his place on the couch, setting him back down in his lap, and he rests his right arm across the back of the couch behind Justin’s head, not quite touching him. A woman he recognizes as one of Justin’s relatives who was sitting with him walks up in front of them with a kind smile.
“You have an adorable son,” she says to him. “He looks so much like you.”
Not at all used to receiving compliments like this, Brian takes a few seconds to respond, “Thanks.”
Justin points to him and says, “Aunt Ellen, this is Brian.”
“It’s good to meet you,” she says, nodding, and he nods back.
Justin then introduces the rest of his friends there, which leads his aunt to move on to admiring JR and baby-talking to her about what a pretty dress she has on. As Brian is watching this, he hears Justin mutter, “Yeah, go ahead, Dad. Give me that look like I should be hiding my freak friends in shame.”
Brian looks up at him and then follows his gaze over to the entrance of the living room just in time to see Justin’s father retract his gaze from their direction and move on to go to the next room. Now feeling a little uncomfortable, Brian looks back at Justin and then looks down, picking up his tie. “Hm. Maybe I should have gone with something less tasteful than Armani. It looks a little obvious, doesn’t it? No wonder he’d be embarrassed by us.”
Justin smirks and responds with the same sarcasm, “Oh yeah, you look so nelly we could grill burgers over your flame. We should have had a cookout instead.”
Of course, he doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s funny at all. Brian moves him arm down from the couch so it’s resting more over his shoulders, and it seems for a second that Justin is moving in closer to him.
“Mommy,” Gus moans, leaning forward in Brian’s lap and looking at Melanie. “I’m hungry.”
“Okay, we’ll get you something to eat,” she says.
“I’ll go with him,” Brian says. He turns to Justin and asks, “You want a drink or something?”
“Sure.”
Brian takes Gus into the family room where there is a table with food and punch and they are just getting done filling a paper plate with pieces of cheese and carrots when Brian sees Craig is standing just a few feet away glancing over at them.
“Hey, Gus,” he says, patting his head to get his attention. He picks up a cup of punch for him and hands it to him with his plate. “Go ahead and go back to your mommies, alright?”
“Okay,” he says, turning away.
Brian looks up at Craig, who is now doing his best to pretend he hasn’t even noticed them. He walks over to him and says, “Did you not know I have children, too, Mr. Taylor? Six of them.”
He doesn’t even turn to meet eyes with him.
“No, I’m shitting you, it’s just the one,” Brian says.
“What the hell do you want?” Craig asks in a low voice, finally looking his way.
“Just to say...well, I hope I wasn’t out of line the other day. I just don’t want my presence to cause any trouble. Surely you can understand.”
“Understand? Oh, sure,” Craig says darkly. “It’s not enough that I’ve lost my only child I could be proud of. My son’s shameful lifestyle has to be waved right in my face at her funeral, when if it wasn’t for the bad influence you had on Justin this family might still be together. Then I would have had more time with my daughter than I had.”
Brian stares at him for a long moment, taking in what he just said. “What are you saying?” he asks quietly. “You wish it had been him?”
Craig takes a little too long to answer, and his face shows a strange kind of alarm for a moment, as if he’s just been scared by himself. “I did not say that,” he says in the same quiet voice. “Son of a bitch.”
He looks away, and Brian scratches the back of his head for a moment as he looks around the room as if searching for someone else to go talk to. Then Brian says conversationally, “Mr. Taylor, were you aware that your son is about to have some of his paintings in a show at a very prestigious art gallery?”
Craig looks completely confused by him asking a question like that. “...No. No, I didn’t know that,” he says awkwardly.
“Hm. And did you know that he’s living in New York completely independently of any financial help from anybody else? I’m sure you know the rent there even for a little shithole like the one he’s living in is God-awful. But he pays for it all on his own. He has to get up as early as five in the morning sometimes to walk six blocks to the cafe where he works. But he can’t work so much that he doesn’t have time to do his art, of course. And do you have any idea how expensive it is to paint? You know how much just one canvas can cost?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he says dully.
“And even with all that to worry about, he still manages to send me a small check every month to pay me back a little at a time for bankrolling the two years of education he got at the institute,” Brian continues, restraining himself from adding a comment about why he needed to pay for his tuition in the first place.
Craig sighs, obviously running out of patience. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“I thought you’d be interested,” he says, feigning surprise. “You’re his father.”
Craig just gives him a look of extreme vexation. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s already completely thrown his life away.”
“I see,” Brian says, nodding. “Well, I just think it’s too bad you’re not proud of your son. Because I would be. I am.”
Craig just stands there dumbfounded as Brian turns to walk off, and then he stops. “Oh. Forgot the drink,” he says to Craig with a smile, going back to the table and taking a cup before walking off.
Right before he makes it to the landing area to go back into the living room he passes Justin’s aunt he met earlier, and as he’s momentarily stopped by a couple people blocking his way they smile at each other just because it seems like the thing to do when their eyes meet. Somehow this leads to her saying, “So, Ryan...It is Ryan?”
“Uh. Brian,” he corrects.
“Sorry. Brian. So, what do you do?” she asks.
“I’m an ad executive. A year and a half ago I started my own agency.”
“Ah. Well, that must be nice. Being your own boss.”
“Yes. It’s very nice,” he says with a smile.
“Is it doing well?”
“Very well.”
“That’s good.” She seems to be thinking of something else to say, and Brian thinks this is his chance to walk away before she goes on. “So, did you do any ads I might have seen?”
Brian thinks through all of Kinnetik’s accounts until one company they’ve worked with comes to mind that didn’t have hot, half-naked bodies on the ads. “Maybe. We did some spots for Froota bubblegum.”
“Oh, the ones where the people are blowing bubbles and they say things on them like they’re speech balloons?”
“That’s right,” he says with a smile, starting to feel a little bit like he’s talking to a client he needs to impress.
“Oh, those are cute,” she says. “Goodness...Those air a lot. You must be doing well.”
He grins. “Indeed.”
She looks at him curiously for a moment and says, “So...are you just a friend of the family?”
Brian thinks to himself that he should have seen that one coming next. After all, how exactly would a man in his mid-thirties who’s in advertising know Justin?
“Um,” he says, almost laughing. “You could say that. Yes.”
Suddenly someone grabs his shoulders and starts pushing him out of the room. Craig says, “Excuse us” to a confused-looking Aunt Ellen, who Brian suddenly has a strong impression must be from Craig’s side of the family. He drags Brian into the hallway and looks around to make sure nobody is looking their way before he starts talking.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted to chat more,” Brian says.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demands. “What are you talking to my sister-in-law about?”
Brian’s tolerance is starting to run out now and he is afraid of saying something he shouldn’t, so he just gives Craig an exasperated look and turns to walk away. Craig grabs his arm and vigorously pulls him back.
“Look, if you have to be here with Justin then be here,” he says in an almost whispering but still heatedly angry voice. “But you stay the fuck away from the rest of my family. They don’t need to know about you.”
Feeling a flash of anger, Brian doesn’t even think before he smiles facetiously and blurts out, “Oh, but I was just going to tell Ellen over there how many times her nephew has sucked my dick.”
Everybody in the surrounding rooms must hear it when Craig shoves him back against the wall, hands grabbing the front of his shirt. Knocked out of breath, Brian hears a lot of gasps and looks around to see several people looking their way and appearing at each ends of the hall to see what’s going on. Including...
“Dad! Jesus Christ!” Justin yells, coming into the hall.
Craig has gone in a second from looking angry to looking a combination of that and extremely embarassed, and he isn’t holding Brian against the wall with much force anymore. Brian pushes him off of him and goes over to Justin, wrapping his arm around his chest to pull him away. “Come on.”
“What the fuck did he do?” Justin says.
“Never mind. Come on.”
Justin turns around and Brian practically tears a way through the crowd for them to go back into the landing area, where Lindsay and Ted are standing looking confused.
“What happened?” Lindsay asks.
Brian just shakes his head and hands her the now-empty plastic cup, looking down at his suit where the punch got spilled all over him when Craig pushed him. “Be a dear and throw that away for me.”
“My God. Here,” says Melanie, who just appeared out of the living room, getting a pack of tissues out of her pocket. Lindsay takes a couple and starts blotting the punch out of his shirt and suit.
Debbie comes over with her hands on her hips, followed by Carl, and says, “What in the flying fuck is going on?” in just barely a quiet enough voice for nobody in a next room to hear her.
Ted looks at her shrugging and Brian glances to the right to see Justin going up the stairs quickly, and he moves to go after him right away, leaving Lindsay dabbing the tissues at thin air for a second.
When he gets up to the second floor he sees Justin in the hall leaning into the wall with his head against it as if he feels sick, and comes up behind him and puts his hands on his shoulders.
“I can’t fucking believe...” Justin pounds a fist against the wall, making a surprisingly loud thud.
“Hey. Come on,” Brian says, wrapping his arms around him to pull him away from the wall and then leading him into his room. He takes him to the bed and pushes him down to sit on it, and then sits next to him.
Justin is breathing heavily, still looking angry, but starting to calm now. Brian puts his arm around him and says, “Fuck...I’m sorry.”
Justin shakes his head. “God. You weren’t even doing anything.”
Brian cocks an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Were you?”
Brian doesn’t feel like telling him everything right now so after a moment’s hesitation he says, “Just exchanging some boring small talk with your aunt. I should have known he wouldn’t like that.”
Justin looks in complete disbelief and rests his forehead down in his hands.
Brian runs his hand up and down his back and then, remembering how hard he just punched the wall, says, “Well. You sure can pack a wallop for a fag.”
Justin looks up at him with a “what the fuck?” expression.
“Never mind,” Brian says. “That’s something my dad told me once after I got pissed at him and punched a box of books.”
“Oh.”
Brian realizes he’s getting punch on Justin’s shirt leaning into him and pulls back, taking off his suit. “Shit...Look at this.”
Justin says, “Now you must really regret wearing Armani.”
He laughs lightly and says, “No kidding.”
Justin loosens his tie, undoes a button of his shirt, and leans back to lie across the bed. “You never told me you came out to your father.”
Brian can hardly believe he’s interested in that right now, but he says, “I didn’t?”
“No.”
Brian lies back on the bed next to him and Justin turns over on his side so they’re looking at each other.
“I told him after I found out he had cancer,” Brian says.
“What did he say?”
“He said I was the one who should be dying instead of him.”
Even though he says it indifferently, it makes Justin go quiet and look at him a little sadly. Then he says, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’ve both got our other family.”
Brian smiles faintly and puts his hand to his face for a moment, brushing hair out of his eyes. “You want to go back downstairs?”
He sighs. “Not particularly. But I guess I should.”
“You don’t have to.”
Justin smiles. “To tell you the truth, I can’t wait until all these people just get out of here.”
Brian almost grins, remembering how much Justin always hates parties or any kind of gatherings with lots of people unless they have many hot guys to look at. He rolls onto his back, looking up at the ceiling, and says, “Yeah, I don’t really blame you.”
They stay upstairs until it sounds like most of the guests have left. By the time they come down and Brian is ready to leave, everyone seems to have decided to pretend nothing out of the ordinary has happened during the whole reception so as not to let it be any more of a disturbance than it’s already been. This doesn’t last past the time Brian and the party he came with get into his car, at which point Michael immediately starts asking him what exactly happened with him and Craig and Brian just tells him, “Nothing. It was bullshit,” and leaves it at that.
By 4:30 Brian is starting to wonder what he took the whole day off for anyway, sitting in front of the TV with a beer and starting to think about going over to the store and bothering Michael until he closes so they can go straight to the diner. But then he hears someone knock on the door.
He turns around on the sofa to look at the door and calls, “It’s open!”
As he expected, since he can’t think of anyone else it would be, Justin opens the door and comes in. “Hi...Are you busy?”
Brian gestures toward the television. “Do I look busy?”
He shrugs, coming over behind the couch and looking at the TV screen. “What are you watching?”
“Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” Brian answers. “Nothing else on.”
“Oh. I’ve heard this kind of sucks,” Justin says as he comes around the couch to sit next to him.
Brian looks surprised. “Who told you that?”
“Steph. Luke’s boyfriend. He’s into theater. According to him some of the best stuff in the play isn’t even in the movie.”
Brian takes a moment to process all that and then says, “His name is Steph?”
“Yeah, it’s for Stephan. I know, isn’t that silly? I can hardly call him that with a straight face.”
He laughs into his bottle of beer as he takes a drink.
“He’s kind of a strange guy,” Justin says. “But a really good actor. I went with Luke to see a production of Angels In America he was in. You ever seen that?"
“No.”
“It’s pretty amazing. Steph played this character who finds out his lover he's lived with for three years has AIDS, so he leaves him. But it’s not that he doesn’t love him, he does. I guess it's because of that. He loves him so much he just can't stand to watch him die."
For a second Brian feels like someone just punched him right in a very vulnerable spot in his stomach. “Shit...Life really isn’t for sissies, is it?”
Justin looks down, frowning. Brian clears his throat and says, “So...he and Luke been together long?”
Justin has no idea why Brian would care to know anything about that, but he answers, “Two happy years of infidelity.” He smiles a little thinking about it. “I don’t see both of them that much, but when I do it’s kind of sickening how much in love they obviously are. Finishing each other’s sentences and stuff like that. The kind of thing you couldn’t watch while you’re eating.”
Brian laughs again, elbowing him in the side.
“And what’s kind of funny is they were both born to a couple hippies and they’re really tight with each other’s parents. They don’t even live together but it’s like they’re practically married.”
“So how do they do it?”
Justin shrugs. “They trust each other enough that they can be together but still be free.”
Brian looks to the side at his face for a moment. It’s the closest thing to an admission of what kind of a relationship he and Luke have had that he’s ever said. But Brian finds he doesn’t really care about that anymore.
“Well, that’s what they say, isn’t it?” Brian says. “If you love something you got to let it go.”
Justin smiles. “Weren’t you paying attention to the end of the movie last night? Keep thinking too much like that and you’ll just be putting yourself in a cage like Holly. Some people want to belong to someone.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I’ve seen it lots of times. It’s one of my mom’s favorites. She always cries at the end. Don’t tell her I told you that.”
He smiles. “Wow. And here I thought you’d never seen any films made before 1980.” He finishes off his beer and seems to realize something looking at the empty bottle. “Oh. Sorry. You want a drink?”
They both go to the fridge to get beers and sit at the bar drinking them. Brian says, “So, I assume word got around to your mother about what happened at the reception.”
“I think word got around to everybody,” Justin says, his face going hard again like it was right after it happened. “They just had the decency not to talk about it too openly.”
“Well, remind me to apologize to her about that next time I’m at the house.”
“Apologize? Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“Actually...it kind of was.”
Justin rolls his eyes. “Right, because you’re not allowed to talk to any straight people at my family gatherings.”
“No. Because I went up and talked to him first to try to...fuck it, it doesn’t matter. It was a total waste of time. Anyway, he’d been pissing me off, so when he got on me later I had to say some joke I knew perfectly well would rub him the wrong way when I shouldn’t have been fucking with him.”
Justin thinks for a moment but then just says, “Whatever. He’s the one who overreacted. And he feels really stupid about it, too.”
Brian taps his knuckles on the counter uncomfortably. “I just feel...”
“What?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Something this bad happening...Maybe at the least, it could have been a chance for you and your father to...reconnect or something.”
Justin takes a long while to respond to that, seeming very taken aback that he would say that. Finally he says, “Well, if that’s what it was, then he’s the one who fucked it up, not you. Besides...I don’t think I would ever want anything to do with him again no matter what.”
This makes Brian feel a little better, but not much. The only reason he tried to apologize to Craig was because he’d become concerned that his confrontation with him might have affected the chances of him and Justin being able to get along again at all. Now it seems a lot more clear that that was never a possibility. But even so, although Justin pretends not to care anymore what his father thinks of him, he knows all too well that acceptance is something nobody can make themself not want. Especially from fathers.
“What was he saying that pissed you off so much, anyway?” Justin says in a careless, merely curious voice.
Brian looks up, caught by surprise. Then he looks away from Justin’s eyes, focusing on the top of the counter. “...Nothing.”
Justin looks at him like he sees exactly what he’s hiding. “That’s okay. I don’t care.”
He takes a drink of his beer and they both sit in silence for a while. For a while Brian stares carelessly over at Elizabeth Taylor on the muted TV and Justin stares off at nothing in particular.
The muted television brings a memory into Brian’s head, for once one that doesn’t have tears or blood. There was one day during the second time he and Justin were living together that they both had absolutely nothing to do, so they slept in until noon and then stayed inside for the entire day until the sun went down. They just hung around the loft in their underwear making fun of stupid shows on TV they would usually not be caught dead watching, but it was just a kind of day when they didn’t care about anything and nothing bothered them. One hour they would be entangled together on the couch fucking slowly like they had all the time in world, drawing it out for long, agonizing minutes until the noises escaping from their throats made it sound like they were being tortured, and the next hour they would be lying on the floor high and laughing hysterically at something that wouldn’t even seem that funny five minutes later. At one point Justin made a bowl of popcorn and they started trying to throw pieces of popcorn at each other and catch them in their mouths, and Brian didn’t care at all that they were making a mess.
”Man, you really suck at this.”
“I do not!”
“Look how much popcorn there is on the floor on your side!”
“Oh, fuck you. It’s your aim that sucks. I’d think you would know where my mouth is after all the times your dick has been in it.”
When Brian remembers this, for a moment he thinks he has an idea what is near the complete opposite side from the extreme pain of loss on that spectrum Lindsay was talking about.
Suddenly Justin says, “You know...I’m not even sure how she broke her wrist.”
Brian looks at him, taking a second to re-emerge from his thoughts and realize what he’s talking about.
“That happened this year, I guess,” Justin says. “But the whole time I’ve been in New York I only saw Molly that one time I was here to visit. And I spent most of those two days out with you and the guys. And I think I only talked to her once on the phone when I called. That was it. I don’t remember if I heard about her breaking her wrist. I don’t know how that happened. I felt too bad to ask my mom...”
Brian isn’t sure what to say. He just puts his hand over his arm where it’s resting on the counter. Justin doesn’t even seem to feel the touch, like he’s off in another world.
“I don’t think she ever really understood why I had to leave home when I was seventeen,” he continues. “I mean...we fought a lot, but she did kind of look up to me. And my mom always said she was asking about me all the time. She didn’t know how to tell her it wasn’t that I wanted to leave.”
“I’m sure she understood,” Brian says. “You went to her birthday party, didn’t you? You didn’t just vanish off the face of the earth without looking back.”
He looks up at him. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
“I believe it was the reason I got robbed that one time.”
“You didn’t seem to think it was a good enough reason.”
“Well...what the hell. Whatever I didn’t get ripped off I would have had to part with after I went insane and paid for those TV spots, anyway.”
Justin crosses his arms on the counter and says, “Now that I think about it, she might have thought what my dad did at the reception was kind of funny. That he embarrassed himself like that.” He thinks a moment and then a strange-sounding laugh suddenly comes out of him. “She didn’t really like him, you know. Maybe she wasn’t old enough to know the real reasons not to. But he was always such a hard-ass. Mom was much more lenient about letting her do stuff like have spontaneous, unplanned sleepovers. I remember we always loved to tell on each other to my mom when we caught each other doing something bad, but for some reason we never did that to Dad. I guess it was kind of fun keeping something from him he should know.”
Justin takes another drink and then wrings his hands together a little, looking oddly uncomfortable in his own skin. “The poor bastard, though,” he says, and the words sound like they’re fighting their way out. “I guess Molly was the last remaining link keeping what was our family still connected at all. I only ever heard anything about him from what Molly found out when she saw him. And now...he’s got nothing. He’s lost both of his kids.”
In the next few seconds, Brian can hear his breathing become more disturbed, and then he stands up muttering, “Shit,” and puts his hand over his mouth.
Brian stands and goes over to him and tries to turn him around, but he doesn’t want to face him.
“Justin. Hey...” He wraps one arm around his chest as his first sob comes out and he covers his face with both of his hands. Brian isn’t really aware of what he says to him when he says it; maybe he just says, “It’s okay,” but whatever it is allows Justin to completely let go, and all at once his legs seem to completely lose their strength as he collapses back against him and Brian is practically holding him up from behind. They sink to the floor together, Brian holding him so tightly around his chest it is like he’s trying to hold all his pieces together as his back shakes. And there they are curled together again, maybe not healing yet this time, but feeling what has to be felt and not carrying it around alone anymore.
Continue to part 7...
Author:
flowrs4opheliaRating: R
Characters/Pairings: Brian/Justin
Summary: Too many times it has taken some kind of tragedy to bring Justin and Brian closer together.
Previous chapters: Prologue | I | II | III | IV | V
Notes: Does it ever seem to you like the only time you really feel like doing something like work on fanfic is when you don't really have the time to be doing it? I have horrible luck with this. Like last week, when my college had one of the first snow days in its history, two days in fact, I was so excited because it meant I could work on this....and then I just spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at my laptop screen feeling like my brain had dried up into a raisin, unable to even come up with a good first sentence for part 6. Stuck in my house for two days with hardly any snacks and writer's block. Nightmare. Luckily, I got over it, just in time for schoolwork to start piling up again. ::sigh::
Anyway, I was looking back at what I wrote when I posted the prologue about how this probably wouldn't get to be much longer than six chapters. Well, that was somewhat right, because with the way I have the rest of this planned out, it's going to be eight. I feel kind of obligated to warn you that the last chapter is going to be very short in comparison to the others, almost kind of like an epilogue except more important. The next part, however, could easily turn out to be a really long sucker because there's a whole lot that has to happen in it. So we are getting pretty close to the end, which actually kind of makes me sad to think about because I've loved writing this so much.
p a r t | s i x
Brian has been to several funerals before. They are all pretty much the same, he thought after a while. This one is not the same.
Molly was cremated, so there is no body or even a closed casket to see, just a long table behind all of the rows of seats in the funeral home with various possessions of hers on it representing her. They remind Brian of seeing her bedroom, except it’s not quite the same because these things have been chosen and neatly set up to give a specific impression of what kind of person she was. There is a pair of ice skates, an old teddy bear, a Harry Potter book still bookmarked near the middle, and a wrist cast with so many signatures and drawings on it that there is hardly any white left on it. He can only guess there is some story to go along with everything here, or two, or an innumerable number of stories. Innumerable, but not infinite. Five years from now, then ten, then twenty, then forty, the ones who loved her may never stop thinking every once in a while, How old would she have been now? and then doing the math in their heads, but no matter how long she is in their thoughts the number will always be stopped at 13.
Behind all of these things and some vases of flowers on the table are standing boards that are plastered with photos of her from infancy to pre-teen age, pouting with food all over her face and smiling wide in sunglasses and all dressed up in something sparkly and blue. In the very center is a framed drawing of her looking no older than eight that he can tell must have been drawn by Justin even though he’s never seen it before.
When she was eight, Justin was seventeen. There was so much he did not care to get to know about him back then. All that interested him was the drawing Justin did of him. Or so he thought. There are so many things he never even thought about before this week.
Like: would it feel like you are not getting some kind of necessary closure and being able to properly say goodbye if you could not see the body? Without that, would it still not seem quite real? But the body is not really her. These things on the table are not her, either. If they were, if there was anything of her left, there would not be a bunch of young girls in the seats around him smothering their faces with tissues and sitting stiffly like they’re trying to stay still, though occasionally one audible sob will escape from one of them accompanied by a little tremble of their back and someone beside them will respond by putting an arm across their shoulders.
It’s different in the front row, where Justin and his parents and some other relatives of his are all sitting and hardly moving.
The night before Justin came over to the loft because he got tired of sitting alone in his room. That was what he said. Brian had an idea that with what the next day would bring looming over him he just didn’t feel like thinking about it too much. He and Brian sat on the sofa watching Breakfast At Tiffany’s on TV with their feet up on the coffee table, each of them facing inward a little so their feet were resting closer together than they were actually sitting. Justin said things like “Holly Golightly’s kind of like you” and “I fucking hate this commercial,” anything but what was really on his mind. Brian didn’t mind. But it bothered him a little to think that there might be some things Justin didn’t feel like he could say to him. Justin was starting to fall asleep on his shoulder by the time Holly and Paul were kissing in the rain, and he nudged him back into alertness to keep him awake long enough to drive him back to the house.
When a minister gets up at the podium and starts speaking words about peace in heaven and being with Jesus that are surely meant to give some kind of comfort to all of these people, Brian’s mind wanders a little after five minutes because all of it doesn’t mean any more to him than a lecture on how to do an algebra equation. Like Lindsay said, there isn’t really anything you can say anyway. Then one of Justin’s uncles and some other people who knew her get up and share memories of Molly, including a neighbor who lived next to them when Jennifer and Craig were still married and never forgot a day when Molly was very little that she picked some flowers out of their yard and after being told that wasn’t nice she tried to put them back. That story, at least, has some people laughing lightly for a second.
Then, suddenly, it’s over. And it seems like unlike the other funerals Brian has been to, this one felt inadequate somehow. It is like they have all been watching a comedian for an hour and he never even got to the punchline of the joke, the answer, the reason. Because there is none.
“I totally went to middle school with one of the girls who was there,” Hunter says in the back seat of Brian’s car as he is driving him, Michael, and Ben to Jennifer’s house afterwards. “That’s fucked up, man.”
“Which one?” asks Ben.
“The blond wearing green who came up and talked. Her name’s Natalie...something. Beckman or something that sounds like that.”
“Why is that fucked up?” Michael asks.
“I don’t know, it just is. Who thought I’d run into her again at a funeral?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Ben says.
When they get to the house, they see Ted’s car among the numerous ones already there, meaning Melanie, Lindsay, and Emmett are there, too. When they get inside and make their way through more flower arrangement-adorned tables and groups of people standing and talking they find them already congregated in the living room sitting together, and Justin is sitting next to Melanie with Gus watching as he draws something on the back of a magazine.
“Gus, are you bothering Justin?” Brian asks as he comes up to them.
Justin looks up. “It’s okay. He asked me to play hangman.”
“Oh, did he?” Brian says, laughing. “Well, try not to use too many big words,” he jokes, kicking Justin’s foot lightly with his own.
Justin looks at him with something that actually resembles his usual smile, and for a moment Brian feels a small trace of that warmth it used to make him feel, like something is filling him up with light. Then when the feeling passes there is just that indescribable deep ache again, and Brian doesn’t know where they are. The past is so solid and understandable and the present is just an elusive mystery. But he can’t think about those things right now.
Brian picks Gus up from the seat and then takes his place on the couch, setting him back down in his lap, and he rests his right arm across the back of the couch behind Justin’s head, not quite touching him. A woman he recognizes as one of Justin’s relatives who was sitting with him walks up in front of them with a kind smile.
“You have an adorable son,” she says to him. “He looks so much like you.”
Not at all used to receiving compliments like this, Brian takes a few seconds to respond, “Thanks.”
Justin points to him and says, “Aunt Ellen, this is Brian.”
“It’s good to meet you,” she says, nodding, and he nods back.
Justin then introduces the rest of his friends there, which leads his aunt to move on to admiring JR and baby-talking to her about what a pretty dress she has on. As Brian is watching this, he hears Justin mutter, “Yeah, go ahead, Dad. Give me that look like I should be hiding my freak friends in shame.”
Brian looks up at him and then follows his gaze over to the entrance of the living room just in time to see Justin’s father retract his gaze from their direction and move on to go to the next room. Now feeling a little uncomfortable, Brian looks back at Justin and then looks down, picking up his tie. “Hm. Maybe I should have gone with something less tasteful than Armani. It looks a little obvious, doesn’t it? No wonder he’d be embarrassed by us.”
Justin smirks and responds with the same sarcasm, “Oh yeah, you look so nelly we could grill burgers over your flame. We should have had a cookout instead.”
Of course, he doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s funny at all. Brian moves him arm down from the couch so it’s resting more over his shoulders, and it seems for a second that Justin is moving in closer to him.
“Mommy,” Gus moans, leaning forward in Brian’s lap and looking at Melanie. “I’m hungry.”
“Okay, we’ll get you something to eat,” she says.
“I’ll go with him,” Brian says. He turns to Justin and asks, “You want a drink or something?”
“Sure.”
Brian takes Gus into the family room where there is a table with food and punch and they are just getting done filling a paper plate with pieces of cheese and carrots when Brian sees Craig is standing just a few feet away glancing over at them.
“Hey, Gus,” he says, patting his head to get his attention. He picks up a cup of punch for him and hands it to him with his plate. “Go ahead and go back to your mommies, alright?”
“Okay,” he says, turning away.
Brian looks up at Craig, who is now doing his best to pretend he hasn’t even noticed them. He walks over to him and says, “Did you not know I have children, too, Mr. Taylor? Six of them.”
He doesn’t even turn to meet eyes with him.
“No, I’m shitting you, it’s just the one,” Brian says.
“What the hell do you want?” Craig asks in a low voice, finally looking his way.
“Just to say...well, I hope I wasn’t out of line the other day. I just don’t want my presence to cause any trouble. Surely you can understand.”
“Understand? Oh, sure,” Craig says darkly. “It’s not enough that I’ve lost my only child I could be proud of. My son’s shameful lifestyle has to be waved right in my face at her funeral, when if it wasn’t for the bad influence you had on Justin this family might still be together. Then I would have had more time with my daughter than I had.”
Brian stares at him for a long moment, taking in what he just said. “What are you saying?” he asks quietly. “You wish it had been him?”
Craig takes a little too long to answer, and his face shows a strange kind of alarm for a moment, as if he’s just been scared by himself. “I did not say that,” he says in the same quiet voice. “Son of a bitch.”
He looks away, and Brian scratches the back of his head for a moment as he looks around the room as if searching for someone else to go talk to. Then Brian says conversationally, “Mr. Taylor, were you aware that your son is about to have some of his paintings in a show at a very prestigious art gallery?”
Craig looks completely confused by him asking a question like that. “...No. No, I didn’t know that,” he says awkwardly.
“Hm. And did you know that he’s living in New York completely independently of any financial help from anybody else? I’m sure you know the rent there even for a little shithole like the one he’s living in is God-awful. But he pays for it all on his own. He has to get up as early as five in the morning sometimes to walk six blocks to the cafe where he works. But he can’t work so much that he doesn’t have time to do his art, of course. And do you have any idea how expensive it is to paint? You know how much just one canvas can cost?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he says dully.
“And even with all that to worry about, he still manages to send me a small check every month to pay me back a little at a time for bankrolling the two years of education he got at the institute,” Brian continues, restraining himself from adding a comment about why he needed to pay for his tuition in the first place.
Craig sighs, obviously running out of patience. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“I thought you’d be interested,” he says, feigning surprise. “You’re his father.”
Craig just gives him a look of extreme vexation. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s already completely thrown his life away.”
“I see,” Brian says, nodding. “Well, I just think it’s too bad you’re not proud of your son. Because I would be. I am.”
Craig just stands there dumbfounded as Brian turns to walk off, and then he stops. “Oh. Forgot the drink,” he says to Craig with a smile, going back to the table and taking a cup before walking off.
Right before he makes it to the landing area to go back into the living room he passes Justin’s aunt he met earlier, and as he’s momentarily stopped by a couple people blocking his way they smile at each other just because it seems like the thing to do when their eyes meet. Somehow this leads to her saying, “So, Ryan...It is Ryan?”
“Uh. Brian,” he corrects.
“Sorry. Brian. So, what do you do?” she asks.
“I’m an ad executive. A year and a half ago I started my own agency.”
“Ah. Well, that must be nice. Being your own boss.”
“Yes. It’s very nice,” he says with a smile.
“Is it doing well?”
“Very well.”
“That’s good.” She seems to be thinking of something else to say, and Brian thinks this is his chance to walk away before she goes on. “So, did you do any ads I might have seen?”
Brian thinks through all of Kinnetik’s accounts until one company they’ve worked with comes to mind that didn’t have hot, half-naked bodies on the ads. “Maybe. We did some spots for Froota bubblegum.”
“Oh, the ones where the people are blowing bubbles and they say things on them like they’re speech balloons?”
“That’s right,” he says with a smile, starting to feel a little bit like he’s talking to a client he needs to impress.
“Oh, those are cute,” she says. “Goodness...Those air a lot. You must be doing well.”
He grins. “Indeed.”
She looks at him curiously for a moment and says, “So...are you just a friend of the family?”
Brian thinks to himself that he should have seen that one coming next. After all, how exactly would a man in his mid-thirties who’s in advertising know Justin?
“Um,” he says, almost laughing. “You could say that. Yes.”
Suddenly someone grabs his shoulders and starts pushing him out of the room. Craig says, “Excuse us” to a confused-looking Aunt Ellen, who Brian suddenly has a strong impression must be from Craig’s side of the family. He drags Brian into the hallway and looks around to make sure nobody is looking their way before he starts talking.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted to chat more,” Brian says.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demands. “What are you talking to my sister-in-law about?”
Brian’s tolerance is starting to run out now and he is afraid of saying something he shouldn’t, so he just gives Craig an exasperated look and turns to walk away. Craig grabs his arm and vigorously pulls him back.
“Look, if you have to be here with Justin then be here,” he says in an almost whispering but still heatedly angry voice. “But you stay the fuck away from the rest of my family. They don’t need to know about you.”
Feeling a flash of anger, Brian doesn’t even think before he smiles facetiously and blurts out, “Oh, but I was just going to tell Ellen over there how many times her nephew has sucked my dick.”
Everybody in the surrounding rooms must hear it when Craig shoves him back against the wall, hands grabbing the front of his shirt. Knocked out of breath, Brian hears a lot of gasps and looks around to see several people looking their way and appearing at each ends of the hall to see what’s going on. Including...
“Dad! Jesus Christ!” Justin yells, coming into the hall.
Craig has gone in a second from looking angry to looking a combination of that and extremely embarassed, and he isn’t holding Brian against the wall with much force anymore. Brian pushes him off of him and goes over to Justin, wrapping his arm around his chest to pull him away. “Come on.”
“What the fuck did he do?” Justin says.
“Never mind. Come on.”
Justin turns around and Brian practically tears a way through the crowd for them to go back into the landing area, where Lindsay and Ted are standing looking confused.
“What happened?” Lindsay asks.
Brian just shakes his head and hands her the now-empty plastic cup, looking down at his suit where the punch got spilled all over him when Craig pushed him. “Be a dear and throw that away for me.”
“My God. Here,” says Melanie, who just appeared out of the living room, getting a pack of tissues out of her pocket. Lindsay takes a couple and starts blotting the punch out of his shirt and suit.
Debbie comes over with her hands on her hips, followed by Carl, and says, “What in the flying fuck is going on?” in just barely a quiet enough voice for nobody in a next room to hear her.
Ted looks at her shrugging and Brian glances to the right to see Justin going up the stairs quickly, and he moves to go after him right away, leaving Lindsay dabbing the tissues at thin air for a second.
When he gets up to the second floor he sees Justin in the hall leaning into the wall with his head against it as if he feels sick, and comes up behind him and puts his hands on his shoulders.
“I can’t fucking believe...” Justin pounds a fist against the wall, making a surprisingly loud thud.
“Hey. Come on,” Brian says, wrapping his arms around him to pull him away from the wall and then leading him into his room. He takes him to the bed and pushes him down to sit on it, and then sits next to him.
Justin is breathing heavily, still looking angry, but starting to calm now. Brian puts his arm around him and says, “Fuck...I’m sorry.”
Justin shakes his head. “God. You weren’t even doing anything.”
Brian cocks an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Were you?”
Brian doesn’t feel like telling him everything right now so after a moment’s hesitation he says, “Just exchanging some boring small talk with your aunt. I should have known he wouldn’t like that.”
Justin looks in complete disbelief and rests his forehead down in his hands.
Brian runs his hand up and down his back and then, remembering how hard he just punched the wall, says, “Well. You sure can pack a wallop for a fag.”
Justin looks up at him with a “what the fuck?” expression.
“Never mind,” Brian says. “That’s something my dad told me once after I got pissed at him and punched a box of books.”
“Oh.”
Brian realizes he’s getting punch on Justin’s shirt leaning into him and pulls back, taking off his suit. “Shit...Look at this.”
Justin says, “Now you must really regret wearing Armani.”
He laughs lightly and says, “No kidding.”
Justin loosens his tie, undoes a button of his shirt, and leans back to lie across the bed. “You never told me you came out to your father.”
Brian can hardly believe he’s interested in that right now, but he says, “I didn’t?”
“No.”
Brian lies back on the bed next to him and Justin turns over on his side so they’re looking at each other.
“I told him after I found out he had cancer,” Brian says.
“What did he say?”
“He said I was the one who should be dying instead of him.”
Even though he says it indifferently, it makes Justin go quiet and look at him a little sadly. Then he says, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’ve both got our other family.”
Brian smiles faintly and puts his hand to his face for a moment, brushing hair out of his eyes. “You want to go back downstairs?”
He sighs. “Not particularly. But I guess I should.”
“You don’t have to.”
Justin smiles. “To tell you the truth, I can’t wait until all these people just get out of here.”
Brian almost grins, remembering how much Justin always hates parties or any kind of gatherings with lots of people unless they have many hot guys to look at. He rolls onto his back, looking up at the ceiling, and says, “Yeah, I don’t really blame you.”
They stay upstairs until it sounds like most of the guests have left. By the time they come down and Brian is ready to leave, everyone seems to have decided to pretend nothing out of the ordinary has happened during the whole reception so as not to let it be any more of a disturbance than it’s already been. This doesn’t last past the time Brian and the party he came with get into his car, at which point Michael immediately starts asking him what exactly happened with him and Craig and Brian just tells him, “Nothing. It was bullshit,” and leaves it at that.
By 4:30 Brian is starting to wonder what he took the whole day off for anyway, sitting in front of the TV with a beer and starting to think about going over to the store and bothering Michael until he closes so they can go straight to the diner. But then he hears someone knock on the door.
He turns around on the sofa to look at the door and calls, “It’s open!”
As he expected, since he can’t think of anyone else it would be, Justin opens the door and comes in. “Hi...Are you busy?”
Brian gestures toward the television. “Do I look busy?”
He shrugs, coming over behind the couch and looking at the TV screen. “What are you watching?”
“Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” Brian answers. “Nothing else on.”
“Oh. I’ve heard this kind of sucks,” Justin says as he comes around the couch to sit next to him.
Brian looks surprised. “Who told you that?”
“Steph. Luke’s boyfriend. He’s into theater. According to him some of the best stuff in the play isn’t even in the movie.”
Brian takes a moment to process all that and then says, “His name is Steph?”
“Yeah, it’s for Stephan. I know, isn’t that silly? I can hardly call him that with a straight face.”
He laughs into his bottle of beer as he takes a drink.
“He’s kind of a strange guy,” Justin says. “But a really good actor. I went with Luke to see a production of Angels In America he was in. You ever seen that?"
“No.”
“It’s pretty amazing. Steph played this character who finds out his lover he's lived with for three years has AIDS, so he leaves him. But it’s not that he doesn’t love him, he does. I guess it's because of that. He loves him so much he just can't stand to watch him die."
For a second Brian feels like someone just punched him right in a very vulnerable spot in his stomach. “Shit...Life really isn’t for sissies, is it?”
Justin looks down, frowning. Brian clears his throat and says, “So...he and Luke been together long?”
Justin has no idea why Brian would care to know anything about that, but he answers, “Two happy years of infidelity.” He smiles a little thinking about it. “I don’t see both of them that much, but when I do it’s kind of sickening how much in love they obviously are. Finishing each other’s sentences and stuff like that. The kind of thing you couldn’t watch while you’re eating.”
Brian laughs again, elbowing him in the side.
“And what’s kind of funny is they were both born to a couple hippies and they’re really tight with each other’s parents. They don’t even live together but it’s like they’re practically married.”
“So how do they do it?”
Justin shrugs. “They trust each other enough that they can be together but still be free.”
Brian looks to the side at his face for a moment. It’s the closest thing to an admission of what kind of a relationship he and Luke have had that he’s ever said. But Brian finds he doesn’t really care about that anymore.
“Well, that’s what they say, isn’t it?” Brian says. “If you love something you got to let it go.”
Justin smiles. “Weren’t you paying attention to the end of the movie last night? Keep thinking too much like that and you’ll just be putting yourself in a cage like Holly. Some people want to belong to someone.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I’ve seen it lots of times. It’s one of my mom’s favorites. She always cries at the end. Don’t tell her I told you that.”
He smiles. “Wow. And here I thought you’d never seen any films made before 1980.” He finishes off his beer and seems to realize something looking at the empty bottle. “Oh. Sorry. You want a drink?”
They both go to the fridge to get beers and sit at the bar drinking them. Brian says, “So, I assume word got around to your mother about what happened at the reception.”
“I think word got around to everybody,” Justin says, his face going hard again like it was right after it happened. “They just had the decency not to talk about it too openly.”
“Well, remind me to apologize to her about that next time I’m at the house.”
“Apologize? Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“Actually...it kind of was.”
Justin rolls his eyes. “Right, because you’re not allowed to talk to any straight people at my family gatherings.”
“No. Because I went up and talked to him first to try to...fuck it, it doesn’t matter. It was a total waste of time. Anyway, he’d been pissing me off, so when he got on me later I had to say some joke I knew perfectly well would rub him the wrong way when I shouldn’t have been fucking with him.”
Justin thinks for a moment but then just says, “Whatever. He’s the one who overreacted. And he feels really stupid about it, too.”
Brian taps his knuckles on the counter uncomfortably. “I just feel...”
“What?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Something this bad happening...Maybe at the least, it could have been a chance for you and your father to...reconnect or something.”
Justin takes a long while to respond to that, seeming very taken aback that he would say that. Finally he says, “Well, if that’s what it was, then he’s the one who fucked it up, not you. Besides...I don’t think I would ever want anything to do with him again no matter what.”
This makes Brian feel a little better, but not much. The only reason he tried to apologize to Craig was because he’d become concerned that his confrontation with him might have affected the chances of him and Justin being able to get along again at all. Now it seems a lot more clear that that was never a possibility. But even so, although Justin pretends not to care anymore what his father thinks of him, he knows all too well that acceptance is something nobody can make themself not want. Especially from fathers.
“What was he saying that pissed you off so much, anyway?” Justin says in a careless, merely curious voice.
Brian looks up, caught by surprise. Then he looks away from Justin’s eyes, focusing on the top of the counter. “...Nothing.”
Justin looks at him like he sees exactly what he’s hiding. “That’s okay. I don’t care.”
He takes a drink of his beer and they both sit in silence for a while. For a while Brian stares carelessly over at Elizabeth Taylor on the muted TV and Justin stares off at nothing in particular.
The muted television brings a memory into Brian’s head, for once one that doesn’t have tears or blood. There was one day during the second time he and Justin were living together that they both had absolutely nothing to do, so they slept in until noon and then stayed inside for the entire day until the sun went down. They just hung around the loft in their underwear making fun of stupid shows on TV they would usually not be caught dead watching, but it was just a kind of day when they didn’t care about anything and nothing bothered them. One hour they would be entangled together on the couch fucking slowly like they had all the time in world, drawing it out for long, agonizing minutes until the noises escaping from their throats made it sound like they were being tortured, and the next hour they would be lying on the floor high and laughing hysterically at something that wouldn’t even seem that funny five minutes later. At one point Justin made a bowl of popcorn and they started trying to throw pieces of popcorn at each other and catch them in their mouths, and Brian didn’t care at all that they were making a mess.
”Man, you really suck at this.”
“I do not!”
“Look how much popcorn there is on the floor on your side!”
“Oh, fuck you. It’s your aim that sucks. I’d think you would know where my mouth is after all the times your dick has been in it.”
When Brian remembers this, for a moment he thinks he has an idea what is near the complete opposite side from the extreme pain of loss on that spectrum Lindsay was talking about.
Suddenly Justin says, “You know...I’m not even sure how she broke her wrist.”
Brian looks at him, taking a second to re-emerge from his thoughts and realize what he’s talking about.
“That happened this year, I guess,” Justin says. “But the whole time I’ve been in New York I only saw Molly that one time I was here to visit. And I spent most of those two days out with you and the guys. And I think I only talked to her once on the phone when I called. That was it. I don’t remember if I heard about her breaking her wrist. I don’t know how that happened. I felt too bad to ask my mom...”
Brian isn’t sure what to say. He just puts his hand over his arm where it’s resting on the counter. Justin doesn’t even seem to feel the touch, like he’s off in another world.
“I don’t think she ever really understood why I had to leave home when I was seventeen,” he continues. “I mean...we fought a lot, but she did kind of look up to me. And my mom always said she was asking about me all the time. She didn’t know how to tell her it wasn’t that I wanted to leave.”
“I’m sure she understood,” Brian says. “You went to her birthday party, didn’t you? You didn’t just vanish off the face of the earth without looking back.”
He looks up at him. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
“I believe it was the reason I got robbed that one time.”
“You didn’t seem to think it was a good enough reason.”
“Well...what the hell. Whatever I didn’t get ripped off I would have had to part with after I went insane and paid for those TV spots, anyway.”
Justin crosses his arms on the counter and says, “Now that I think about it, she might have thought what my dad did at the reception was kind of funny. That he embarrassed himself like that.” He thinks a moment and then a strange-sounding laugh suddenly comes out of him. “She didn’t really like him, you know. Maybe she wasn’t old enough to know the real reasons not to. But he was always such a hard-ass. Mom was much more lenient about letting her do stuff like have spontaneous, unplanned sleepovers. I remember we always loved to tell on each other to my mom when we caught each other doing something bad, but for some reason we never did that to Dad. I guess it was kind of fun keeping something from him he should know.”
Justin takes another drink and then wrings his hands together a little, looking oddly uncomfortable in his own skin. “The poor bastard, though,” he says, and the words sound like they’re fighting their way out. “I guess Molly was the last remaining link keeping what was our family still connected at all. I only ever heard anything about him from what Molly found out when she saw him. And now...he’s got nothing. He’s lost both of his kids.”
In the next few seconds, Brian can hear his breathing become more disturbed, and then he stands up muttering, “Shit,” and puts his hand over his mouth.
Brian stands and goes over to him and tries to turn him around, but he doesn’t want to face him.
“Justin. Hey...” He wraps one arm around his chest as his first sob comes out and he covers his face with both of his hands. Brian isn’t really aware of what he says to him when he says it; maybe he just says, “It’s okay,” but whatever it is allows Justin to completely let go, and all at once his legs seem to completely lose their strength as he collapses back against him and Brian is practically holding him up from behind. They sink to the floor together, Brian holding him so tightly around his chest it is like he’s trying to hold all his pieces together as his back shakes. And there they are curled together again, maybe not healing yet this time, but feeling what has to be felt and not carrying it around alone anymore.
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Date: 2007-02-19 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 11:13 pm (UTC)Maybe this is the way towards their reunion. If not, it is fitting that Brian is there when Justin breaks. Awesome story!
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Date: 2007-02-19 11:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-20 12:00 am (UTC)My impression from the show, based on Craig's not bothering to attend his daughter's birthday party, was that he was emotionally distant from her, so Justin's observation about Craig losing both his children was accurate and poignant.
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Date: 2007-02-20 01:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-20 01:25 am (UTC)I'm glad Brian attempted to tell him about Justin, that was a nice gesture. And the comment that got the fight going was typical Brian. Excellent.
Great update!
CHeers!
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Date: 2007-02-20 02:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-20 03:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-20 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-20 04:09 am (UTC)On a side note, I can totally relate to your comment about bad timing when writing a fic. I seem to get bursts of inspiration at the wrong times, that's for sure. Always have a notebook at your side! :D
Keep on writing, you definitely have got great writing skills!
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Date: 2007-02-20 05:17 am (UTC)Oh yes. You know where I wrote most of the park scene in the last chapter? In biology class when I was supposed to be taking notes. Haha. :)
Thanks for your comment!
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Date: 2007-02-20 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-22 11:25 am (UTC)Wonderful!
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Date: 2007-02-22 04:52 pm (UTC)“Mr. Taylor, were you aware that your son is about to have some of his paintings in a show at a very prestigious art gallery?”
Craig looks completely confused by him asking a question like that. “...No. No, I didn’t know that,” he says awkwardly.
“Hm. And did you know that he’s living in New York completely independently of any financial help from anybody else? I’m sure you know the rent there even for a little shithole like the one he’s living in is God-awful. But he pays for it all on his own. He has to get up as early as five in the morning sometimes to walk six blocks to the cafe where he works. But he can’t work so much that he doesn’t have time to do his art, of course. And do you have any idea how expensive it is to paint? You know how much just one canvas can cost?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he says dully.
“And even with all that to worry about, he still manages to send me a small check every month to pay me back a little at a time for bankrolling the two years of education he got at the institute,” Brian continues, restraining himself from adding a comment about why he needed to pay for his tuition in the first place."
brian's loving and sensitive tlc is very touching at the end of the chapter when justin breaks.
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Date: 2007-04-04 12:00 am (UTC)I love this more with each chapter you unveil. *claps*
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Date: 2007-04-04 02:34 pm (UTC):(((( Oh, poor Jester.
“Justin. Hey...” He wraps one arm around his chest as his first sob comes out and he covers his face with both of his hands. Brian isn’t really aware of what he says to him when he says it; maybe he just says, “It’s okay,” but whatever it is allows Justin to completely let go, and all at once his legs seem to completely lose their strength as he collapses back against him and Brian is practically holding him up from behind. They sink to the floor together, Brian holding him so tightly around his chest it is like he’s trying to hold all his pieces together as his back shakes. And there they are curled together again, maybe not healing yet this time, but feeling what has to be felt and not carrying it around alone anymore.
Seriously. :(((
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Date: 2007-04-04 11:40 pm (UTC)Craig just makes me cringe. Especially since neither Justin or Brian have the energy to be angry with him right now.
The funeral was done very well, and again Brian's inner thoughts about the tragedy of Molly's death show that he's being forced to think about things he's never really considered before, and he's just as ungrounded by this whole thing as Justin is.
The part of this chapter that made me the most emotional was when Brian was reflecting on the time that he and Justin stayed in just messing around all day. It reminded me of when Justin remembered cooking omelettes earlier, and at first I wondered if he was remembering the exact same day. The little bits of conversation when they're throwing the popcorn make it believable that this perfect day actually happened, even though we didn't often see them doing stuff like this in the show. Even when one of them makes a joke about sucking dick, it's still gorgeously romantic somehow. *sigh* ah, beejay...
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Date: 2007-04-05 02:20 am (UTC)