Title: Seeing the Other Side
Pairing: Ben and MIchael (QAF)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1700
Summary: This is a S4 gap filler for between the scene when Ben leaves Anthony's apartment and the scene where Michael is reading Ben's short story in their bedroom (before the sweet dancing).
Genre: Angst, Romance
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just for fun.
I'm an idiot.
A thoughtless, bastard-of-an-idiot.
What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn't - that's the problem - I wasn't thinking at all.
I almost threw it all away.
Michael's forgiven me for a lot, but he would never forgive me for cheating...and I know that. After everything he went through with David - that's the one thing Michael has been very clear about, the one thing that he will not tolerate.
David was a prick. It wasn't just the cheating...he took Michael for granted - treated him like a child - less than worthy - like a door mat.
But am I much different? Since the moment Michael reluctantly told me what he thought of my book, I've treated him like shit. I fucking asked him to read it and give me his honest opinion and when he did just that, I immediately insulted his intelligence. I pretty much told him he's too stupid to have an opinion about...oh god. He loved me enough to be honest and I threw it in his face.
It's not your fault that you're more justice league than ivy league.
Did I really say that to him? Fuck.
When I first met him, Michael didn't think much of himself. But he was...is...brilliant. His interpretation of graphic literature is spot on and insightful. The one hour he spent speaking to my class gave my students more of an understanding of the subversive empowerment of queers in literary arts than I could achieve in an entire semester.
He never saw himself that way though - he didn't know how remarkably astute and intelligent he was...is...fuck. He still doesn't really get it - but at least he's way more confident now.
And people noticed. Important people. People with power and money, who have scriptwriters and set designers, and...fuck.
Did I congratulate him? No. Did I offer him support and reassurances to quiet that little voice and nagging doubt in his head - to which he tries to deny he still listens? No. Instead I belittled him and belittled the offer and the high-powered director who made it...and the entire genre of film Rage and other comics before it have inspired...fuck.
I could see it in the way he looked at me - I could see how much I was hurting him. And I watched as he swallowed hard and reached out to comfort me...support me...as if he thought he deserved my insults.
Of course he doesn't think he deserves more. It's his fucking default.
And every moment I've spent building up Michael's fragile self-image - the thousands of moments I've given comfort and support - mean nothing after just a few moments of misdirected anger. No, that's not exactly right. Anger is just how I expressed it - it was envy and jealousy and stupid male ego bullshit.
But Michael took it on...he always takes it on.
Because he loves me.
Fuck. He fucking loves me.
He loves me with everything he has in him. He gives himself to me fearlessly. And despite the fact that he will likely lose me long before he's ready...not that anyone is ever really ready to lose the love of his life...fuck...I'm the love of his life.
And he's mine - even though I treat him otherwise when I'm scared...or apparently when my ego takes a hit.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
And then Vic...oh god, Vic. He was the only father-figure Michael ever really had. Michael loved him so much. And even though we all knew it was a matter of time - Vic had cheated death more times than anyone ever imagined possible - it was still such a shock.
To everyone.
Then Debbie loses her mind for a while and Michael was so worried about her.
God - I hardly even touched him since the night he...god...Vic died and I didn't offer him the slightest bit of comfort. Why? Because my book sucks and Rage is a flaming success?
Fuck.
And he didn't even have Brian to lean on.
Shit...Brian.
Vic dies, Debbie goes bat shit crazy, Brian gets cancer, and the most I've said to Michael in the last few weeks is that he should get his money back on the lap top that he bought me to inspire my muse...because despite my complete and utter disregard for his feelings, Michael still believes in me. But I just threw it in his face.
And then...when he showed a moment of understandable human frailty...instead of holding him close and calmly reassuring him, I snap at him. I snap at him to back off of Hunter because the kid was scared out of his mind after Vic died and once again remind Michael that he'll never get it because he doesn't have it.
The look on Michael's face...jesus...he was devastated for Hunter and felt completely inadequate as a parent because he didn't even think about it. And I just say he isn't expected to think about it because he doesn't have it. I rub the salt in his open wounds and make sure he knows that he'll never be truly connected to either Hunter or me - not the way we are to each other anyway - because he's not like us.
And then I walked away.
How very compassionate of me. Fuck.
Vic dies, his mom goes bat shit crazy, his best friend-slash-unrequited-love gets cancer and all I can do is make Michael feel worse because he didn't think about the fact that his son has the same disease that killed his uncle.
His son and his lover. Why would I expect him to be thinking about it - he was probably doing everything in his subconscious mind to deny the pain of that truth while he as grieving the devastating loss of his beloved uncle.
I constantly demand him to understand my experience with HIV - yet I never take one second to understand his. And I should - I'm his fucking lover - so I should think about it - especially during a time like...fuck, fuck, fuck!
Vic dies, Brian has cancer, his mom is bat shit crazy and the two men he loves more than anything in his life are...fuck.
He was scared too. So fucking scared. Of course he was - why didn't I even consider that.
And he had no one.
When he should have had me.
I should have been the one he could turn to no matter what.
And I left him. A little bit at a time - I just left.
And I almost cheated. I would have fucked Anthony - I would have. I know it and so does Michael. I would have fucked him because Anthony said everything I needed to hear. He understood Ben-the-Writer - the struggle to put words together - the painful process...Anthony got me in ways I needed to be...fuck. I bought it all - hook, line, and sinker.
Jesus - I almost fucked him. Just because he stroked my fucking fragile ego - I almost fucked him. I almost risked everything. I almost sacrificed Michael. I would have...god...I would have put him through more suffering after everything he had already been going through...all alone...on his own...because I was being a fucking asshole.
And I can't even think about what it would have done to Hunter. Jesus.
But Anthony was only saying what he knew I needed to hear. He was only stroking my ego so he could eventually stroke my cock. Anthony was only looking for a fuck with someone who could give him the fucking 'gift'.
Gift?
What the fuck?
Anthony just wanted to fuck me because I'm positive.
Michael just wants to love me despite it.
So I owe it to him. I owe Michael the truth. He deserves to know how fucking stupid I am and how I almost threw us away for the sake of my ego. He deserves to know that I get it now. He deserves to know that I appreciate him and love him and can't imagine my life without him and that I'll never be so stupid and careless again.
If roles were reversed Michael would sit me down, look me in the eyes and own his shit.
But I'm not strong like him. I'm not brave like him.
So instead I stayed up all night writing a short story - on the lap top Michael gave me - the one I refused to accept. The story is about a selfish bastard who almost lost everything that matters just so he could learn that he has everything that matters.
And Michael is reading it.
And I'm waiting.
I feel like throwing up.
And when he's finally standing in front of me, nervously holding my manuscript, I am pretty sure that I will throw up.
And when he asks me if I'm sure I want his opinion after the last time, I can feel my heart breaking a little because if Michael hates it I don't think I'll be capable of breathing.
And when he says it's brilliant, I know he means it because he loves me enough to tell me the truth - even when I don't want to hear it.
And I almost cry because I should have known that the first time.
I should have been holding him every night since Vic died.
I shouldn't be letting him let me off the hook with his warm, gentle eyes and his sweet smile. I shouldn't be waltzing him around the living room - at least not until I drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness.
But when he tells me what his favorite part of my story is I know that I don't need to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness.
Even though I should - I don't.
Because he's already forgiven me.
And because I'm not as brave as him...I let him.