Light In Shadows
A Brian and Justin Fan Fiction
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters nor do I presume to do so.
Author's Note: Warning, there are some graphic violent images in this story as well as MPREG. If you are not okay with these two storylines, then please do not proceed.
Chapter One: Dismal Creation
Brian's POV:
It had been two months since it happened. Since everything changed. My life had been turned upside down. It wasn't about me. It was about him. I didn't know what to do to be there for him, or if there was anything I could do. I felt hopeless as if I was lost in a haze and no matter how hard I tried to gravitate towards the light, I was coming up empty and ended up even more shrouded in darkness. It was hard to care about someone because when they hurt, you hurt. I guess it was part of the reason I wouldn't let myself be susceptible to falling in love. Until he came along. That threw my old principles out of the water, even though it took 5 years for me to wake up and realize what I had. What we had.
Now I was lying in bed with my arms around him, his face buried in my chest, both of us fully clothed and I was stroking his hair and touching his tear-stricken face. The tears wouldn't stop no matter how much I wiped them away. Another would just take their place. How did we get here? I should have been there to protect him. Why wasn't I there? Oh, right, that's because he was in New York and I was in Pittsburgh. I had convinced him to go, that he would be sacrificing to stay with me and we agreed that we shouldn't have to make sacrifices to be together.
Why did I listen to myself? We could have been settling into our new life together, instead of him literally starving, trying to find out where his next meal would be coming from and how he would write his next rent check. He wouldn't accept my help, I offered, but he wanted to do it on his own. Sure, eventually, he started to get noticed. He even got his own solo show and he was actually able to pay his bills. He did it. He was a fucking success and I couldn't have been prouder. He had become the best homosexual he could possibly be. Sure, I missed him, but I felt like he had a higher calling. Now, I say, screw a higher calling, we could have been perfectly happy at Britin. But here we are, and he's hurting.
When he came home unexpectedly I knew something was wrong. He had a solo show two days before. I couldn't make it because I had an event at Kinnetik. I so wanted to be there. I really did. I wish I had cancelled my plans because what happened wouldn't have happened if I was there with him all night. No amount of shoulda coulda or woulda could change what had transpired. No, nothing. I realized nothing would ever be the same again. We would never have our fairytale romance. A tear slid down my cheek and I wiped it away before it could trickle down and fall on Justin. I was supposed to be the strong one and I would do whatever I could to stay strong for him. For us. Would there be any light in this dismal darkness?
Justin's POV:
I could tell Brian was crying, too. I knew he was trying to be strong. I wish I could be. I wasn't. I was weak, which is probably why this happened to me. Why bad things happened to me. I wasn't like Brian. Sure, I was stronger in being emotionally expressive, but he had hardened himself, which probably ended up saving him. He was holding me and trying to love me unconditionally, but I knew he was questioning. I was asking myself a similar question, how could I have been so stupid?
He seemed so charismatic. Telling me how much my work inspired him. What a crock of shit that was. The moving image of what happened next stayed with me in perfect detail. I saw it when I was awake as if I was hallucinating it, as clear as I could see Brian, now. I saw it when I closed my eyes and I saw it in my dreams. I couldn't escape it.
My paintings were strewn across the massive space of the art gallery. I had my own room that was featured during my solo show. It was a very generous space and my art fit schematically and perfectly in the way I had arranged them. I called my series of paintings a retrospective in amber. Brian was always my inspiration and he clearly was present in each of my paintings. I painted abstractly, but his touch and presence were always identifiable. Brian was pervasive in my mind and even when I didn't try to include him in my work he always somehow appeared there in the finished product. Probably because his life was irrevocably tied to mine. He was my soul mate, so it made perfect sense that he had become a part of me just like I had become a part of him. It kept me slightly sane to know I had pieces of him inside of me since he let me into his heart. I think I would have died if I didn't have that. Thank God for Brian.
The first painting started out with the least amount of amber tones and with more gray. The series of paintings progressed with an increase of amber and decrease of gray just like my love for Brian had progressed and gotten deeper with time. I remembered toiling away at those paintings and they just came to me. It was as if the God of Art had used my hand as his vessel and painted these masterpieces. They didn't feel like work to me, they felt natural and inspired. Those feelings seemed to fade, though, and in its place this darkness had seeped in and taken over. I didn't know how I would see the light again. I remembered it, but I couldn't see it. It was all darkness.
I was saying goodbye to the last guests. "Thank you so much for coming." I shook hands and the last crowd left the room. I turned around to look at what I had accomplished before closing up, when he was standing there. He was attractive. Blonde, tall, slender, possessing an air of confidence.
"Oh, hey. I didn't see you standing there. I'm about to lock up."
"A few more minutes? I'd love to just soak up this last painting." He smiled at me so genuinely one never could have guessed the evil brewing in his mind.
"Okay, sure."
"Your brushstrokes are so deliberate. They're crafted very smoothly."
"Thank you. Are you a painter?"
"Me? No, my stuff would come out like chicken scratch. I guess the creative gene skipped a generation. I'm too heavy handed."
I laughed. "I'm sure you have your own talents."
"I guess you could say that." He stepped towards me, the predatory glare in his eye that I had seen so many times going out to Babylon with Brian. I hadn't gotten laid since I had seen Brian two weeks before. I tried not to sleep with other men unless I felt like the urge was too strong. We weren't monogamous or anything, but I started to want to hook up with others less and less. And to my great joy, he felt the same. He hardly tricked anymore. It was mostly blowjobs and the occasional fuck.
I laughed and moved out of his way. "It's getting late. I think I'm going to head home. I've had a really long and busy day."
"I understand. I'll walk out with you."
"Okay." I turned my back away from him and started heading towards the door. I didn't get very far when I heard a familiar noise, yet one that I hadn't heard for a few years. I turned around to face him, panic setting in, and sure enough, it was what I thought it was. A gun. Cocked and ready. Pointing straight at my head. I thought of Brian and how I would never get to see his face again if I didn't handle the next few moments carefully.
"What is that? You can put it away. I won't scream."
"Good. I hate screamers." He didn't put down the gun and I was really starting to panic but I tried my hardest to not let it show on my face. "If you do exactly what I say, I'll let you go and you'll never see me again."
"Okay, okay." I put my hands in the air to show I was surrendering to his malaligned superiority.
With the gun still poised, he walked towards me and grabbed my hands, tying them behind my back with a rope I didn't notice he had been holding. "Now let's go."
He led me to the restroom, pulled me inside and barricaded the door with the nearby trashcan. I should have fought back harder instead of just letting him touch me. Letting him not use a condom. I should have been in control. I wasn't some sissy little faggot. But I froze. I couldn't do anything to protest his movements. His dirty hands were all over me. He wanted to gag me but I reminded him I wouldn't scream. I wanted to just cooperate and hopefully it wouldn't last long and he would leave.
I was pulled back to reality, when I felt a tear that Brian missed, land on my face. I shouldn't have come home and burdened him with this. I should have just cut contact with him and he would have been none the wiser that this had happened. But, selfish as usual, I needed him. While the vile act was taking place I survived because I thought about Brian and how his touch felt in comparison this man's rough one. He wasn't a man, he was a monster. And not only did I have the event to remember him by. I had this thing.
Brian's POV:
I couldn't imagine how it must be to relive this horrendous experience over and over again every waking moment. I didn't know how long we were holding each other. Minutes, hours, days. Time wasn't relevant. Especially with these circumstances. Two months later and we were both broken. The healing hadn't even begun because of the twisted gift he left us with. The wretched monster couldn't have just raped Justin and fled, no, he had to torture him beyond that night. I didn't know if Justin realized, but his arm was protectively surrounding his stomach. The parental instinct set in even though he was hurting and swore up and down he didn't want the child.
Justin's POV:
I was raped, and dare I say it, pregnant. I hated this child and the man who put it there. It was horrid. I was disgusting because my body wanted to incubate the thing. I had no say over it, it was just there. Slowly growing. It was an abomination and I wanted it gone. Brian and I had talked about it before I started crying and I told him I wanted an abortion. He was so supportive. He didn't try to change my mind or anything. I was so lucky to have him. This darkness clouded everything and there was no sign of light at the end of the tunnel, or even an end for that matter.