A/N: This isn't what I usually write, at all. You may need kleenex for this, and it's not happy. All I can say is I heard this song and I had to write this. And, of course, my muse helped.
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, the show, or the song or lyrics.
Just got home and I know… without a doubt, he's gone. Completely gone. I know that he's been here, I can feel it, not to mention the loft looks… emptier. I'd say cleaner, but how do you describe cleanliness when you've gotten used to the clutter?
Do I miss him? Of course I do, and since I'm by myself I can admit that. I also know I pushed him away… why? Because I had to, for his own good. He was too young for me and I was too old for him… I know what you're thinking. Brian Kinney admit he's old? Yes… I know it. Anything over 30 to gay men is over the hill. I am Brian Kinney, so I can still get anyone I fucking want. The problem is, I only wanted one. Shocked, are you? You shouldn't be. Why would I possibly want to fuck anyone less than the best? Oh, there were many reasons I let Justin come back, time and again, no matter how hard I pushed… because he is the absolute best cocksucker who has ever had the privilege of sucking my cock. And his ass… it is, was, beyond description. Your cock hasn't known tight, sweet, hot, amazing perfection in an ass until its fucked Justin. But you probably never will.
I also know I'm just as good at fucking, if not better, mainly because he learned fucking from me… top and bottom. But that little fucker had a natural born fucking talent… I've seen a lot of asses and mouths and suckers and fuckers in my time… but I have never seen the same level of sensuality, the tenacity, the desire and need that Justin had. Not only that, but he had the balls to come back every time I pushed him away… that's how I knew he needed to leave… because he stopped fighting. He stopped reading me, he always used to say he was on to me… I hadn't heard that from him since before prom. I know he had to have remembered saying that, but after that… no matter how often we fucked, no matter how fucking amazing it was, whether it was just us, or with tricks… he didn't seem to be on to me at all.
I thought, for a moment, that maybe, things would change… not me, but him. He made those ridiculous rules… he should have known my agreeing that easily to someone controlling my actions was a big fucking sign that something was different. The no names and numbers was easy, I'd never done that anyway. Home by 3? Sure, I'd agree to that… what the fuck, right? I was working towards being partner at the time… it made sense. No kissing? That was hard, at least it would have been hard before Justin. Kissing has always just been a part of sex, some people think it makes it more personal… whatever! It uses part of the body, and when fucking, you use your whole fucking body. And I like kissing, always have. Then I kissed Justin, many, many fucking times. Kissing tricks? Not so necessary any more.
Then he had to go and break them. That first time, I got it… he had his first virgin, you remember that. I remember mine, but you don't get to hear that. He kissed him to reassure him, make it more personal, less callous. Just to shove him away later… like I tried to do with him. Justin's not that kind of person, I knew it hurt him to do that. The year before Justin would have known that. … After that… I tried to figure out what changed. What made him so different to want something else? I mean besides the obvious: the fact that he was 18, never been in a real *shudder* relationship, never had a chance to figure out what he wanted out of life.
There had to be something that changed his perceptions… and I know it wasn't me. I didn't change. Well, maybe I did, a little, I let him come back, I actually went after him, a few times, he spent the night many times, fuck, he lived with me. No, I never told him how I felt… I didn't need to, I shouldn't have had to… I showed him all the fucking time. Maybe they weren't the grand, romantic gestures that he wanted or other lesbians or stepford fags expected. They were practical, necessary things that should have been fucking huge.
Then I figured it out… that thing that changed him. Well, technically more than one thing, but I saw it a little, and get progressively worse as the weeks went by. It was that fucking Sap and that stupid fucking party. I knew exactly what Justin had to do to work on the bar… and I knew what went on at those parties. Justin didn't think I knew, maybe a part of him did, but you don't spend as much time and money at Babylon as me to not know exactly what goes on. I had heard the stories, talked to the guys who went there, knew the dancers at the club, rather intimately, too… at least the talented ones. Talent that lies outside of dancing.
Most people would tell you it's the size that matters, and as a gay man, it's certainly a joy to have the size and be able to use it, but it really is what you do with it that matters. Some of the biggest guys with the biggest cocks are nellier bottoms than Emmett and can't suck worth a damn. Some of the biggest guys have the smallest cocks, but their sucking skills are phenomenal. Although still nothing like Justin… but I digress. I don't like spending that much time thinking about Justin and all his natural talent for all things sexual. Mainly cause I'll miss the little fucker if I spend too long thinking about him.
Working for the Sap changed Justin, not that I didn't know it would, it just didn't change him the way I thought it would. I'm really fucking glad Justin got out before anything happened to him… who the fuck knows where we'd be if something had happened there. But that, timed with the little concert that Linds just had to fucking take him to… he fell hook, line and sinker. And didn't I fucking know he would when I found out where they were taking him. Before the prom… I'm sure he would have fucked the fiddler, maybe wanted something more, but he would have been honest, wouldn't have hid what he was doing. He would have come right out and said it, and it wouldn't have been for the fake romance and pretty meaningless words… it would have been because he wanted to, for his own needs.
I'm sure the fucking fiddler knew exactly what to say and what to do to reel Justin in, too. Before… well, Justin wouldn't have fallen for it. Shit, I mean he saw through all my bull shit, every fucking time… but did he see through it after? No, he fucking didn't… and I knew then I had to let him go, push him to make his own choice. I know it wasn't much of a fucking choice, but he could have chosen different. I even gave him that last out. Was it cruel? Maybe. I knew he would want to find me in Babylon, he was looking for some sign that the little play acted out on stage meant something… ah, Sunshine, if you only knew what that had done to me. But I made sure he knew it, knew I wanted him to see me, to find me… and he did.
He found me literally and figuratively fucking myself, fucking my alter ego, fucking the me that he and wittle Mikey had imagined. Did he get it? Maybe… but not clearly enough to fight it, to tell me to go to hell, or make me stop. He just looked hurt and walked away, turned his back on me. And yet again… I had put me on the line, albeit different than prom… and it was taken from me. The moment he had turned his back on me, I pulled out and told the trick to fuck off. I had my answer, loud and fucking clear.
One last chance, even after that, I gave him. I stopped fucking, and I followed, and I removed my mask… and he still fucking left with that fucking fiddler… and he kissed him. Good fucking riddance Sunshine. Do I want him hurt? No fucking way, he deserves better than that, he deserves better than me. The fiddler? I don't fucking think so, but Justin needs to find out for himself. It won't work, I know that… I saw it in his fucking face when Justin turned to look at me. Justin didn't get it, he didn't see it, and he clearly didn't connect the fact that I had stopped fucking and followed. That fucking fiddler, he knew he won, not fair and square, but he won, for now.
Will he come back to me? Who the fuck knows. Will I take him back if he asks? Probably… what can I say, I'm a gluten for punishment… or maybe just a gluten for that perfect fucking ass and his mouth. But maybe, just maybe, this whole experience will show Justin something else… maybe it will give him what he thought he was missing, give him back some of what he had before that stupid fucking dance… either one of them.
Now it's just me… back to my life, the way it was, before. That's right, boys and girls, back to asshole, fuck everything, care about nothing prick that Mikey just loves to remind me of. I can't fucking believe he said that. Was I sorry I hit him? Maybe… did he deserve it? You bet your fucking ass he deserved it. I can't even think what he said. And then to have Justin and that fucking fiddler standing there, watching it happen… and Justin, I could tell by his face, he had no fucking clue what was going on. For a moment, I almost missed him… had that happened before… he would have been the only one supporting me, not Mikey. But this time… he just wasn't there.
And now he's not here. Between work and the fucking party I knew he had taken all his shit. The loft felt empty then. I saw a couple things he left behind, old sketches on the table, a sock here, soap there. Did I throw them away? You might think that, but then you wouldn't know me. I don't want to look at them, to have that reminder visible, doesn't mean I want to forget. So they're here… but you're not gonna know where.
After apologizing to Mikey… cause how could I not… he's Mikey. I came home, changed, took a long hot shower, now I'm trying to relax, watch some TV. It's not working of course. I probably thought too much and too often about Justin and all the times I would let him in, let him come over, let him stay… but he was good for something, besides the obvious. I could forget with him here. As much as I hated letting him in, letting him affect me, with fucking that good, I didn't need to fucking think. With no one here, my thoughts can easily get the better of me. And I don't want to go out. I know I could, but… the three fucking musketeers are probably there and I have no interest in dealing with any of them tonight.
I turn off the tube, pour myself a glass of beam and roll a joint. They say you shouldn't smoke and drink by yourself, and I say 'fuck 'em'… not to mention I think after today and last couple of months I fucking deserve this. I turn on the radio, pick my favorite jazz station, and smoke and drink. I sit on the floor, in front of my sofa, and I see something under the chair cushion. That hits me as really fucking weird… I don't leave anything there, usually…
I slowly reach over and pull on it, it's red, soft… it's a shirt. One of Justin's favorite's... the one he was wearing that day down the street. At first I want to ball it up, throw it away, or better yet, throw it in the fucking fire place, if I had one.
I can feel the buzz, the high, it's calming, relaxing, the burn soothing, and then the song changes… into something that hurts, something painful, something I don't want to hear, but for some reason can't turn off.
The world was on fire
No one could save me but you.
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
I'm powerless to stop what I do next. I bring the shirt to my face and breathe. God! It fucking smells like him still… little fucker probably hadn't washed it. And it was in the chair cause… fuck! That was where it got left after I took it off him, after I told him he stunk.
No, I don't want to fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
No, I don't want to fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
With you
With you
Fucking song, fucking radio, fucking beam… fucking tea… no, no fucking way am I gonna admit to doing that.
What a wicked game you play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you
v And I don't wanna fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
And I don't want to fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
World was on fire
No one could save me but you
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you
I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
Fuck! God damn mother fucker… why Justin… why, you little fucker, if you were fucking here, I'd…
No I don't wanna fall in love Nobody loves no one
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
No I don't wanna fall in love
[This love is only gonna break your heart]
With you
With you
And then I do something before I can stop myself, something I'll probably regret in the morning, but can't control.
I push the familiar numbers that I haven't pushed in quite a while.
"Good evening Mr. Kinney," Gotta appreciate caller ID, "will you be requiring the usual, sir?"
"No, the opposite… twink, longish blond hair, blue eyes, round ass."
"Very good, sir, I think we can accommodate you this evening, anything else sir? Or just the usual instructions?"
"He doesn't say a word, just rings the buzzer… oh, and a red shirt and beige cargoes," hopefully that sounded annoyed and not as needy as I thought it sounded.
"Very nice Mr. Kinney, I have just the person you're looking for. How soon would you like him sir?"
Not soon enough, I think… and somewhere I barely hear a little voice in my head that says never, you know who you really want.
"One hour."
"Pleasure doing business with you Mr. Kinney, enjoy your evening," the voice says a little too seductively.
Now to go take a really hot fucking shower and try and actually forget… but not before putting the shirt away.