1Title: The freeing Consequence of Disillusion aka Fic in which Ethan's not crazy
Author: ladyerzulie
Summary: How anyone, anyone could even entertain the idea of leaving a man like Brian for someone like Ethan is unfathomable.
Genre: Humour. Maybe a touch of angst. Maybe.
Rating: R (maybe)
Timeframe: Season 2, but veers way off the path.
Warnings: A bit of Justin/Ethan. Nothing too crazy. I wouldn't call this anti-Ethan, 'cause it's not. It's just pro-Brian.
Author's note: This was written for Jessica. It's also long overdue too, like a couple of weeks, but she waited patiently. So, here honey!
Thanks to chynnadoll17 for beta'ing this for me. She's a great friend and one of my best supporters. I couldn't do this without her. I love you Chynna.
I also dedicate this to arlad. She is such a great friend and my lj lovah and a cheerleader like no other. I Love you Sofia. Goooooo Mexico!!!
What's your flava?
When you look back on it now, you realize that you were very dumb. Ok, so maybe it was, like, two weeks ago when you were considering this (there must have been a break in your sanity). How anyone, anyone could even entertain the idea of leaving a man like Brian for a man (could you even call him that?) like Ethan is unfathomable. Like, thank God Brian didn't and still doesn't know about Ethan. You don't even want to think about the fresh hell that would be let loose if he did. Ok, so, really. How did you even think to leave Brian for Ethan?
Come on now sugar…
After a great amount of introspection (telling Brian that you were staying with Daphne for a bit and living on her fucking lumpy couch), you realize that Ethan told you what you wanted to hear. Wanted, not needed. You know the saying "actions speak louder than words," but you've realized the better saying is "a picture says a thousand words." Ethan would tell you that he loved you, that he needed you. He said that you were his muse, his light, his everything. He told you that you were so beautiful and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He wrote songs for you. He said if he were Brian and had you, he's let you know that he loved you everyday and that he'd be monogamous 'cause you'd be all he needed. Brian, on the other hand, would massage your hand when it cramped. He'd let you rant and rave and throw things when the injustice of the world became too much. He'd hold you when you cried about your father and he'd nod when you told him about all of the cruel and unusual torture you'd like to execute on Chris Hobbs. He'd challenge you in a debate about Meursault from "The Stranger" (your all time favourite book) and he'd demand your attention when you became childish and leave the room because you didn't want to hear that Meursault was an existentialist. While watching soccer, he'd tried to explain why only goalies could touch the ball with their hands, positions and the legend that is Pele. You'd only have eyes (and ears) for the yummy foreign players in their yummy foreign shorts, with their yummy foreign arms and legs and their yummy foreign faces.
I don't blame you, for being you…
It was like… you don't know how to describe it, but just things about Ethan made you start to dislike him.
… but you can't blame me, for hating it.
The little chin hair used to scratch your chin when you and he were in a heavy make out session. It used to scratch you when he blew you too, but that's not really relevant. It reminded you of the little patch of chest hair that Michael has. It may have been because of the life of luxury that you've always had (sort of), but his apartment, with the chipping walls and the bad lighting and the horrible, cruddy looking fixtures made you a bit mad. And maybe a tad bit irrational. He really couldn't have found a better place to live? Would that have been too hard? And maybe, just maybe, Ethan could have shelled out $8.23 for Pantene Pro-V shampoo and conditioner. Whatever he was using just was not cleaning his hair right. In your little secret liaisons with Ethan, you've learned something. Violin music playing while you are sleeping is not helpful to your circadian rhythm. You can't count how many times you were wide awake, ready to start the day at 3.00 am and dead tired at 2.00 pm.
Comfort eagle.
"Ethan."
"Yeah." Fumbling around. Turning the pages of Henryk Wieniawski's Scherzo Tarantelle, op.16. Having to get it just right.
"Ethan." If there was one thing you hated, it was being ignored.
"Yes, Justin. Yes." Annoyed.
"I'm going."
"Ok."
"No, I'm going. Like, leaving and never coming back. Like, ditching you for good." There, you had said it.
"What? Why?" Finally leaving the damn opera alone and looking at you.
"Because. I have a boyfriend, and I'm not being fair to him."
Taunting laughter. "Boyfriend? Brian's a 'boyfriend?'" Damn those bunny ears.
"Yes, he's my boyfriend and I shouldn't be cheating on him with you. That's being perfidious." You don't know why you had to define it to him. It's not like he was stupid.
"I know what that's being Justin. You can't go. He doesn't deserve you. He sleeps with everyone. He's not faithful to you." Now fumbling with words. Trying to find a way to get you to stay.
You sigh. "I know. He's never told me that I would be his one and only one though."
"Just because he's never said it, doesn't mean that you shouldn't be. It's normally implied." More sure of himself.
"I know, and I'm working on that." Yeah, right. You start to fumble. "I mean, Ethan, don't you think you deserve someone who's just yours? Not someone who has a boyfriend and has you as a secret?"
"Yes. I do. And I'm willing to wait for you, because I know that you'll leave him for me and become my one and only one." So sure of himself.
Christ. You tried to be nice. You didn't want to get nasty, 'cause he's a good guy, but he asked for it.
"Christ Ethan. Fuck, just fuck. I'm leaving you to go back to the boyfriend that I still have. I don't want you anymore. I don't fucking want to be with you anymore, ok? We are done, ok. Done." There. You've done it.
"Justin…" As you walk to the door.
"Done." You open the door.
"Come on, let's work this out." As you put on your jacket.
"Done." You start to walk out of the door.
"Baby…" You swerve around.
"Ok. One. Ewwwwwwwww. Two. Don't call me baby. My mother does not call me baby. Furthermore, I'm not a child, or an infant or a fetus or an embryo. Do not call me that." You run down the stairs.
You say to me I don't talk enough, but when I do I'm a fool.
There were maybe two times that you wished (not) that you chose Ethan. The first time was when you were listening to your all time favourite mixed CD. It had Unbelievable by EMF, Push It by Salt n Pepa, December 1963 by Frankie Vallie & The Four Seasons, Supersonic by JJ Fad, Green Tambourine by The Lemon Pipers and more great classics. It was a fucking fabulous mix and sometimes, just sometimes you'd put it in the stereo system and dance around. One time, Brian came in while you were disco dancing to Disco Inferno by Ike & Tina, ejected the CD and threw it out of the window with an "Oops. My bad." The second time, you were extremely horny. Like, so horny that you'd blow Brian one thousand times in any place he wanted if he would just fuck you. Sadly, luck was not on your side and a soccer match was on. Mexico vs. Brasil. You will never understand how a man that would drop almost anything for sex would not stop watching the match when you were fingering your ass. On the couch. Sitting right next to him. In the end, he jerked you off. It was a bit painful though. Brian was rooting for Mexico (the guys were hot), so when Brasil got the first goal, he jumped a bit, screamed and squeezed your dick a bit too hard. You almost squealed like a little girl. At least Mexico won in the end.
Bisexuals, trisexuals, homosapiens, carcinogens, hallucinogens.
You were walking down the street with Brian one day and there on the corner violining (what the fuck do you call violin playing?) was Ethan. You hoped that you and Brian could make it down the street and into the cinema without him seeing you, but no such luck. Brian just had to want to stop and "support the local talent." He never gave you a hundred dollar bill while you were sketching. Ethan looked up and was just about to tell Brian something, when he noticed you. You were scared. Your hands were sweating and you were shaking a bit. He could have decided to be vindictive and told Brian about your little affair. Instead, he smiled at you, looked back at Brian, nodded, closed his violin case and walked away.
"What the fuck? Was he fucking retarded or something?" Brian was confused.
"Or something." You smiled, grabbed his hand and dragged him into the cinema. You wanted to be first on line.
End.
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