A/N: This is my second oneshot for Queer As Folk. I've been having a writer's block lately and this is the first thing I've written in a long while! It feels good to finally be able to write something again and I hope you'll like it. English isn't my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes there might be. I had my good friend Cuvea read it so any major mistakes should be taken care of. I was thinking of my first oneshot and then decided to continue it with this, but you don't have to read my first one for this to make sence. What happens in my other oneshot isn't mentioned in this one. The story is rated T just to be safe. So anyway, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Making it in New York is harder than he thought it would be. He knows he's talented and his name is already somewhat out there because of Rage, but he still has trouble making people stop and just see him. See his art. He doesn't have any contacts in New York he can pull on and he's beginning to doubt himself. Everything seemed so much easier in Pittsburgh. There he had family and friends. And Brian. And there is no doubt that he misses Brian more than should be allowed to admit. He wishes Brian was here to tell him that everything will be okay and to just give it some time. Of course, in reality, Brian would just tell him to suck it up and show those fuckers why they should give him a chance. And Justin's trying, he's really trying, going to all these different galleries, trying to set up meetings so he can show them his art, but it's not working.
He's beginning to think that New York was a big mistake. It all seems pretty pointless really. He's not sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. He's been here for a month and still, nothing. Nothing good has happened to him while he's been here and he's sick of it. He's sick of doubting himself and rethinking his decisions. He wants to go back to being sure of himself, determined to make it.
It's been a real shitty day and that's just putting it mildly. He was up before the sun, researching about upcoming charity events. He's been all over the city today, donating pieces of his work to the different charities, hoping that he'll somehow be discovered this way. He's been doing this since his first day here. Worst thing is that no one will buy his art, but it's a charity, people are supposed to buy all kinds of stuff. He can only hope that some important art-people will be there and take a liking to his drawings. Other than that all he can do is wait.
He's found a diner in the city that's become his regular in hope of having a reminder of home. But there's no Debbie behind the counter and no friends in the booth. Still, they have good coffee so that's something. He walks in just as his phone starts ringing, so he steps to the side and sees who it is. The word mom flashes across the screen, and he feels kind of disappointed like he always does when he looks at his phone and it's not Brian's name there. Truth is that he hasn't spoken to Brian as much as he thought he would after leaving. He's spoken with Michael, Emmett, Ted and even Debbie more than with Brian. Brian's just always busy nowadays and he never has time. Justin's beginning to fear it's just him he never has time for.
Justin breathes in deeply, mustering up his most cheerful voice.
"Hey mom," he greets her, hoping his voice sounds light and happy, and not at all forced.
"Justin!" his mom exclaims. "I'm shocked you answered. It feels like you've been dodging my calls."
He pushes the guilt away, as he waves it off. "No, of course not mom. I've just been busy, you know. It's New York, there's so much to experience!"
"How's your art going? Can I brag about my son's work being displayed soon, eh?"
He chuckles, because he feels he has to. "Everything is good. I've been feeling really inspired since I got here. And I'm still going out almost every day, trying to get people to look at my drawings. It's all good."
He makes it sound better than it is. What else can he do when it's his mom on the phone?
"That's good," she says, sounding happy for him. She goes on to talk about how she spent all day yesterday with Debbie and it makes his heart ache like every other time he's talked to someone from back home. He wants to be there with them, experiencing all the things they do instead of hearing about it.
"Uh, that's great, mom," he says quickly, knowing that he's cutting her off mid-story. "I've really got to go, though. We'll talk later, okay? Okay, bye." He almost misses her surprised goodbye as he hangs up. He's not proud of himself. He's not.
He contemplates buying a cup of coffee, but he just don't feel like it anymore so he walks off again, flashing the waiter an apologizing smile as he heads out.
Justin had no problems finding an apartment when he first got to New York. He figures it's because it's so crappy, there's no light half of the time and he's pretty sure he saw something moving in the corner that one time, that no one else wants it. It's nothing like Brian's loft. No fancy furniture or perfect view, just old broken chairs and a weird smell, but whatever. It's cheap and he can draw anywhere.
The apartment is in an old building and there are a couple of other apartments too. He's not sure anyone lives there, though, because he's never seen or heard anyone. But then again, he doesn't spend much time in that place. He doesn't call it his home, because it's not. Home is where the heart is. Home is where Brian… Anyway. This will never be his home, it's just a place he's staying right now.
He has his keys out as he climbs the stairs, but when he gets closer to his door, he sees that it's cracked slightly open. He takes a deep breath as he stops, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. He's been robbed. That's the first thing that goes through his mind. So maybe he doesn't have a lot of expensive stuff, but the things he's got have sentimental value and he doesn't want to be without any of them.
He doesn't know why he holds his breath as he slowly walks towards the door. Maybe it's a way of bracing himself for what he's about to see. He pushes the door all the way open and it quickly becomes clear that he's not alone as his eyes land on the figure standing by the window.
"Fuck," he gasps. His gaze is glued to the back of the person who has yet to turn around. It doesn't matter. He could recognize that back anywhere.
"Quite a place you've got yourself here," Brian says, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
It doesn't really register in Justin's head, he's still gaping as a fish. "What are you doing here?"
"What," Brian says, throwing out his arms, "kind of greeting is that?"
Justin splits into a huge grin and moves forward, reaching Brian in just four steps and falling into his arms. As Brian closes his arms around Justin, Justin feels something inside. It's not the usual feeling of love and butterflies flying around every time Brian touches him, although that's still there. It's different, yet familiar. He realizes it's a feeling he's been taking for granted every time he's been around Brian and it's just now that he really feels it strongly. It's the feeling of being home.
"I've missed you," he whispers into the nape of Brian's neck.
Brian pulls back slightly to kiss Justin's lips, just barely. "I know." That's Brian's way of saying I've missed you too.
"I thought I'd been robbed," Justin admits a while later as they're sitting on his couch with boxes of take out, Brian's treat, in front of them.
Brian takes a look around, his face not impressed. "Not much to rob, is there?"
"I know," Justin sighs. "It's just, it's been harder than I thought it would be."
"Your mom seems to be thinking you're just days away from being displayed in a gallery," Brian says, surprising Justin.
"You've talked with my mom?"
Brian shrugs, like it's no big deal. It is to Justin, though.
"Why did you stop answering my calls?"
There's a glint in Brian's eyes, like he has some kind of secret, but other than that, Justin gets nothing out of him.
Justin's really enjoying Brian's company, when all of the sudden Brian stands up, dusting visible dirt off his expensive suit. "Okay, that's enough," he says. He offers his hand to Justin, to help him to his feet too. "We're getting out of here."
"What are you talking about?" Justin asks confused. He gets even more confused when Brian finds one of his bags and starts opening drawers, throwing clothes and other things in it.
"This place is fucking up your health," is the only thing Brian offers as an explanation. "You going to help or not?" Brian's got his eyebrows raised as he's holding the bag in his hand.
Justin nods quickly and finds another bag, starting with his bathroom, that doesn't really have much of a bath, and then moving on to his more important things.
"Where are we going?"
Brian smirks at this. "It's New York, Sunshine. I think we can find a hotel or two that doesn't have cockroaches piling in the corner."
Justin feels his face paling and his eyes going wide. "Cockroaches?" He thought there might have been a mouse, but this is much worse. Suddenly he has a strong urge to get out of here.
They do indeed end up finding a very nice hotel and Justin's beginning to feel a little more like himself again. Of course it isn't the surroundings that define him, but it's still more like he's used to and he feels comfortable. Relaxed, even. He never felt like that in the apartment. He can actually inhale the air here without feeling like he just cut off a year of his life.
Brian gets them a nice, big hotel room with a king size bed, of course. They're hardly inside before their bags are thrown everywhere, and there's kissing and touching, right up against the door. Justin's missed this for sure. He hasn't been with anyone since his last time with Brian, and there's only so much his own hand can do. They fuck before they make it to the bed and it's two fucks later before they actually get on the bed.
Justin's exhausted as he's sitting against the bed rest. Brian is lying on his stomach beside him, and he's almost asleep. It's the middle of the night now and there's so much Justin wanted to talk about, but all thoughts disappeared from his head every time Brian kissed him.
"Brian," Justin whispers. The only reply he gets is a small grunt. Justin just smiles and slides down, making himself comfortable beside Brian. He doesn't know how long he'll have him here, so he'll enjoy it as long as he can.
Justin is the first to wake up the next morning. It's kind of surreal waking up beside Brian in a hotel room in New York, but he's really happy about it. Hotel coffee usually isn't something to brag about, so Justin decides to get Brian coffee from the diner he's grown accustomed to. He leaves a note for Brian, telling him where he is, and he briefly consider drawing a little heart, but figures it's a little too childish. So he does it anyway.
He's first in line at the diner and has just given his order, two coffees to go and two of those delicious looking muffins, when his phone starts ringing. He digs out his phone from his pocket, thinking it's Brian, but it's eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees a number he doesn't recognize.
He accepts the call and there's a lady on the other end, asking if he's Justin Taylor, the artist who donated some of his pieces to charity. He nervously says yes, and then she goes on to talk about the small gallery she's working for and how they bought one of his paintings and are now interested in meeting him.
"Now, there's no promises, okay? But my boss really liked what he saw and he's interested in seeing more of your work."
The sentence runs through his head over and over again. They want to meet him and see more of his drawings. Suddenly it feels like all of his hard work finally paid up and he feels like doing a happy dance, but instead the employee behind the counter clears her throat for probably the hundredth time. Justin just leaves some money on the counter as he takes his orders, heading for the door. The phone is still pressed against his ears as he listens to the lady telling him where and when to come for a meeting. It's finally happening.
"Brian!" He calls as soon as he gets back inside the hotel room. He hears the shower running, so he puts the coffee and the muffins on the table and sprints to the bathroom, barging in without knocking. Brian doesn't even seem surprised as he looks at him briefly and then continues washing his body. "Guess what!"
"You've finally decided to do something about your hair?" Brian's voice is muffled over the water, but Justin hears him just fine.
"I've got a meeting! It's at a small gallery and it's not exactly much, but it's something! It's a chance," Justin says excitedly. "Last night I was ready to call it all off and just come home with you."
"I knew it would happen, Sunshine."
Justin's heart warms at the love in in Brian's eyes and there's only a ping of sadness by the thought of Brian leaving soon.
"And as for coming home with me," Brian continues with an eyebrow raised. "You already did that."
Justin shakes his head. "I don't mean following you to a hotel room. I mean your loft back home."
"I've rented it out."
"You've what?" Justin nearly drops his jaw all the way down to the floor.
"You see, I realized something. I'm my own boss. I can work anywhere."
Justin shakes his head again. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
Brian winks at him and gestures with his head for Justin to join him, then turns around so Justin can see the water falling down his back. The coffee will get cold, but Justin doesn't really care as he undresses. He doesn't really care about anything else than the fact that he's finally home.