I don't own Queer as Folk, the lucky stiffs at Showtime still have that honor.
This is my take on Brian's reaction to Justin being bashed at the prom. This was written for the Fanfiction Critique Group's Revival Challenge. Here are the rules:
Quick-Fire Challenge #1
1. You can write about something that feels either absolutely right, or absolutely wrong
2. It should be 500 words or more
3. Maximum T rating
Brian Kinney had very few absolutes in his life. He had never believed in following the rules set by others, preferring instead to live by his own code, but now he had to wonder if he had somehow erred in his own value judgments. Although, whenever anyone commented on the subject of Brian's values they always loved to point out that he had none at all. Brian had tried to push Justin away. He had done everything he could think of to push that stubborn little twink away to no avail. He didn't know exactly how he felt about Justin, but he knew it was something, even if he'd never admit that fact to another living soul.
He took a deep breath and released it in a heartfelt sigh as he sat on the rock hard bench, staring into space, his hazel eyes dark pools in his pale face. He could barely feel the sticky wetness of the blood on his face, neck, clothes, and the delicate silk scarf he had draped around his neck. There was nothing he could do, so he waited...waited for someone, anyone to come and tell him that Justin was alive. The whole night seemed surreal; everything from his arrival at the prom to that amazing dance seemed like something from a dream. Of course, the dream was crushed by reality the moment that baseball bat had slammed into Justin's head. Blood...bright red and flowing...bright blue eyes closed...screaming...sirens...police...paramedics. Brian shook his head violently to clear the images assaulting him and tried to concentrate on something, anything other than what he had just witnessed.
He heard the footsteps approaching him and felt a wave of relief course through his body as he recognized the tread of his best friend. Mikey was here; he wasn't alone in the sterile silence of the hospital corridor. He couldn't turn his head in greeting and felt rather than saw Michael sit down beside him. Even though his body had turned into stone, he felt Michael's hand gently caress his neck in an effort to get some kind of reaction.
Brian's only response to the questing hand was silence. He had nothing to give to Michael, to Justin, to anyone; in fact, he wondered why he'd ever thought otherwise.
Michael sat helplessly by Brian's side and tried to comfort his friend, although he was at a loss as to what he could do or say to make the situation better. Brian sat as still as a statue and hadn't said a single word since Michael had sat beside him. He finally settled for putting a comforting hand on his neck as he grasped in vain for the correct thing to say. How, he wondered, do you comfort someone who has just watched his sometime-lover get bashed in the head with a bat?
Michael had known from an early age that the world was cruel to anyone deemed "different", but this event was beyond anything he had expected to happen at something as innocuous as a Senior Prom at fucking Saint James Academy. He wasn't exactly sure what he had even been doing at a prom, but knowing his friend as he did, he was sure to come up with a perfectly valid reason. Michael sighed resignedly and gently rubbed his hand across Brian's neck. He felt impotent as he watched his best friend suffer in silence and was astonished to see a single tear finally escape from tormented hazel eyes and slowly trickle down a pale cheek.