This is a fanfiction for the book I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson. I have no idea why it doesn't have its own fandom base, because it was an awesome book. Also it's not necessary to have read the book in order to understand this fic.
This is an AU, where they're both in high school, and I'm not sure where in the book this takes place, but it's just a different way they end up together. I really needed more of them in the book, so this happened.
Thanks to littlewo for helping with my confidence on this one!
At some point, it becomes inevitable that you will be left behind. Someone you love will realize that they would be better off without you, and they will disappear from your life forever. There is nothing you can do; people just don't like being tied down to one person. Everyone loses interest. It's just the way of life. Eventually, there will be someone or something better around the bend, and they will leave.
They will always leave.
That's why it's better to just cut your losses early and not open yourself up to that kind of hurt in the first place.
At least, that's what I thought until I met him.
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Sometimes we create our own heartbreaks through expectations.
-Anonymous
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Brian was unlike anyone I had ever met. He was charismatic, funny and supremely handsome. Of course, I had met plenty of other people who were charming and hilarious and good-looking, but none of them had quite the same effect on me. He had a sort of magnetism to him that kept me coming back. (Portrait and Self-portrait: Boy with Magnet keeps a Hold on Boy)
He had a huge poof of blond hair that was more whitish than anything. It was extremely curly and looked like a mane, which led me to believe that he was like a lion; fierce and protective. His eyes were an indescribable shade of blue and green, like the ocean on a clear, cloud-free day. A quirk of his mouth made him look like a trickster, and always made my stomach feel like it was made of jello. His hands were slim and long, like a pianist, but were also covered in callouses, which looked rough and would probably fit perfectly with my own callouses. All of that made him look like a perfect god, but his god-ness was outlined with human in the form of the gap between his two front teeth. It made him look more like a mortal than an unreachable god who laughs at awkward, enamored boys.
I knew he was bad for me. He hung out with girls who painted their nails purple and he left broken hearts wherever he went. People simultaneously wanted to be him, and were jealous of him. He could make friends with whoever he wanted, and could change his personality depending on who he was with. I wouldn't find this out until it was too late, but he was like a chameleon; no one knew who the actual Brian Connelly was. (Portrait: Boy Changes Colors to Confuse the Prey)
He was the popular player who loved and left, while I was the lonely, gay nerd, but back then I didn't care about that. All I knew was that he made me feel like I mattered; he noticed me when no one else did. He made me feel special in a way that nobody else ever could.
The first time I saw him, he saved my life.
I was getting bullied in the locker room again. The other guys were accusing me of checking them out while they changed, and they called me disgusting names. They thought that if I looked at them the wrong way, they could "catch the gay," which was ridiculous, but then again, none of them were the sharpest knife in the drawer.
I had just come out the previous year, and thought that by now some other piece of juicy gossip would make them forget about me, but I was wrong. They had never stopped making me feel unnatural and embarrassed about myself. I had always thought that something was wrong with me, and they had just proved my theories.
In actuality, I wasn't staring at them getting changed. They saw my red cheeks, and thought I was getting excited from the view. I was only red from the steam coming from the showers but I turned positively tomato-like when they called me names, which they thought was further indication of my guilt. They started to advance on me and probably would have pummeled me to half an inch of my life, but Brian came bursting in like a white knight. (Self-portrait and Portrait: Boy gets Rescued by Fearless Dragon) He got really angry at them, calling them cowards and yelling at them to leave me alone. He was like an avenging angel; or that's what I thought at the time. But, once he had saved my life, he disappeared before I could even say thank you.
That was my first experience with the person who would simultaneously ruin and save my life.
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Happiness is the china shop; love is the bull.
-H.L. Mencken
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The second time was more memorable.
It was a year later, and we were both sophomores. In our school, we had required study hall time. Every day after lunch, the entirety of the sophomore class would trek over to the library, and try to be quiet for an hour. Mostly, people just played on their phones, or surreptitiously tried to listen to their music. All in all, study hall was a waste of time, because nobody actually studied. That is, except for me.
I always utilized study hall for what it was intended for; studying. I did my homework, looked over my notes for tests, and occasionally helped another student with their homework. More like did their homework for them. I could have actually made a business out of doing homework for other students, and it would have been a booming success.
It was during one of these such "helping" sessions with another student that I interacted with Brian for the second time.
I was attempting to tutor a guy in calculus, but he wasn't getting it. He didn't understand the basics of algebra, so he was doomed from the start. I tried approaching it from a different angle, but he was getting frustrated and angry at me. He blamed his failure on my inability to teach him correctly. I in turn said that it was impossible to teach monkeys math because their brains were eons behind ours in sophistication. But, he didn't even understand the insult, so the brilliant comeback was wasted on his simple mind.
Unfortunately, he did catch on to the fact that I was saying something derogatory about him, so he lunged at me. It turns out that what he lacked in brains, he more than made up for in brawn. In high school, I was a skinny shrimp of a kind, which was just more ammo for bullying. (Self-portrait: Boy Gets Shot by Bully Bullets)
I was unable to fight back, so it was rather uneventful for him. It was a different story for me. I would have bruises from his fingers around my neck for the next week.
The bruises would have been around for longer, but Brian became my saving grace once again. As I was struggling to shove him off me, Brian came out of nowhere and threw the idiot across the room, thereby saving my life and whatever dignity I still had left.
This time, he stuck around to make sure I was alright. Due to the fleshy fingers that had been cutting off my air circulation, I was unable to speak. I could only groan, and even that was painful. I tried to express my gratitude, but he just waved it off, saying it was nothing. But it wasn't nothing to me. No one had ever stood up for me like that. Everyone just pretended like it wasn't happening. They would just ignore my tears and my cries of pain. It was the first time anyone had recognized me as a person who had feelings and emotions. It was far from nothing; it meant the world to me.
I attempted to explain all that to him through grunts and gestures, and somehow I think he understood what I meant. He seemed like the kind of tortured soul who had been through hell and back and was determined to make the best of the rest of his life. No doubt it drove the girls crazy to see that kind of pain in his eyes; they just wanted to be the one to finally figure him out, to finally make him laugh. I was no different. I wanted to be the one he opened up to, the one who could make him forget about the past, and look forward to the future.
We talked for a while about school, because he wasn't actually an idiot and he enjoyed learning, just like I did. Then I learned that he was an amateur meteorologist and loved to look at the stars. He said that meteors fascinated him because he liked knowing that he had a little piece of the sky in his pocket. Like the sky had given him that little gift to let him know that nothing was as it seemed. He told me that he loved knowing that the sky was closer than we think; it was just a stone's throw away. The way he explained it was very poetic and mesmerizing. I couldn't take my eyes off him. His passion for fallen rocks and the stars was inspiring. (Portrait: Boy Swims Among the Stars)
But, for better or worse, Brian walked away soon after that. I wanted to get to know him better, to talk to him, to be his friend, to learn more about the stars and meteors, but it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn't sure why he insisted on saving me if he didn't want to talk to me.
I didn't know what he wanted; one minute he was talking to me, and the next minute he was completely blowing me off. I didn't know what was going on with him. He seemed to have two different personalities; the one who saved beat-up nerds, and the one who went to wild parties with two girls on his arms. I didn't know which one was the real Brian. I wanted desperately to believe that the one who had saved me was the real one, but the more I paid attention to him, the more I realized that the real Brian was the party animal.
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Love is a promise delivered already broken.
-Steve Martin
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It was during the summer before our junior year. I was sitting on the beach because Jude had invited a lot of her hornet friends to spend the night, and I wasn't really in the mood to get caught up in their purple nail polish and antennas.
I was sitting in the sand, reading my new favorite book about meteors and shooting stars (which aren't even stars) when I felt a disturbance in the force. I peeked my head up, not sure if I wanted to be noticed yet, and saw his halo of white blond hair.
It was shorter than I remembered it. I wondered if he had gotten it cut and why he would ruin such a beautiful piece of art. You're not supposed to touch masterpieces. (Self-portrait and Portrait: Boy Gets Arrested for Breaking Priceless Art)
I wondered if I should wave to him, because I didn't want to be awkward and ignore him, but then I realized he wasn't alone. He had Courtney perched on his arm like a parrot. Surprisingly, she was the only one with him, which usually means date and I could guess why he had taken her to the beach that night. It was the same reason why I had decided to spend the night at the beach.
There was supposed to be a meteor shower that night. I had read up on them (not because of Brian) to see if I could expand my horizons, and found out that they are one of the most romantic dates ever.
My blood started boiling. I was a thousand degrees and was going to start exploding. (Self-portrait: Boy erupts with Lava)
I had wanted to share this night with myself and my meteor book, but Brian and Courtney had crashed into my nest like parasitoid wasps who lay their eggs in caterpillars and eventually kill the host with their invasive young. (Self-portrait and portrait: Boy Gets Eaten Alive by Parasitic Wasps)
But, Brian and Courtney ruined this night, just like he ruined everything.
They positioned themselves far, far away from me. Brian threw their blanket down, laughing when it just blew back in his face. Courtney laughed too. I did not. Once they had figured out the blanket, he placed their little picnic basket in the corner. I wasn't surprised at how small it was; it probably only held enough food for Brian, because Courtney didn't eat. It looked like they had forgotten chairs, so they laughed again at themselves. I didn't understand what was so funny. Their butts were going to get all sandy now; why was that funny? So they crammed together on the blanket, trying desperately not to land on the sand. When they had gotten themselves situated, they looked like they were Siamese twins, joined at the hip. Or, more accurately, they looked like Venus fly traps, poisonous and deadly to anyone who got too close.
I had hoped that they would get bored, and go home before the meteor shower even started, but they looked like they were planning on staying for a long time. They had planted themselves there and their roots spread across the entire span of the beach, intertwining and choking everything they came into contact with. (Portrait and Self-portrait: Boy Strangles Boy with Poisonous Roots)
They seemed to be having a good time. Every once in a while, Brian would pass Courtney the bottle of wine he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, because I didn't see a cooler with him. And it was probably warm, so I was glad it was Courtney with him and not me. Warm wine is even worse than cold wine, which is pretty nasty anyway.
Suddenly I registered how cold it was getting. I had spent so long judging Brian and Courtney that I didn't realize the temperature steadily dropping. So I pulled my blanket over myself and snuggled into it. I noticed Brian and Courtney had also forgotten a blanket, so they were freezing. Well, Courtney was freezing because she was only wearing a bikini and little itty bitty shorts. I couldn't figure out why she had decided to wear that when she knew it got cold near the water at night.
In order to preserve warmth, they edged even closer to each other, which I didn't even think was possible. They wrapped their arms around each other and I barfed bright green vomit. Thankfully they didn't notice.
I killed them with my laser eyes, but they didn't even pay attention. Hello! I wanted to shout, I'm trying to kill you! Can you be a little more considerate?
Thankfully, the meteor shower had started. Little pieces of the sky were flying across the ocean of black and the stars seemed to faint at the sight of the shooting ones. The falling stars were filling the heavens to the brim so the whole sky was made up of light and black was peeking through where the light was cracking. It reminded me of myself. All white light, but not quite flawless, with black showing where I had been stretched and reformed. It was beautiful, but damaged. Not all the way pristine, but perfect in its own way. (Landscape: Sky Floods with Light)
I risked a quick look over at Brian and wished I hadn't.
They were sitting in each other, their lips all over, rubbing their hands up and down their bodies and making groaning noises. I left soon after that.
Suddenly, I was at home. I couldn't remember even walking home from the beach. It was like my mind teleported my body back home, but got stuck somewhere along the way.
Back at the beach, I had started to sketch out the sky over flooding with beams of light, but every time I tried to sketch the sand, my hand decided that Brian would look good sprawled out in front of the waves. I ruined half of my notebook with sketches like that. My hand had a mind of its own; it wouldn't stop drawing Brian. That's when I figured it was time to stop.
Now, at home, I ripped out those drawings and tore them up into the smallest pieces I could. My insides were bright red and I wanted to cut them out.
Brian was in the past now. He had Courtney, Jude had Oscar, and I had my drawings. Everything was perfect.
Until it wasn't.
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Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun.
-Matt Groening
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Eighth period is the best period to people-watch.
People are milling around, some not really wanting to go to class, but knowing that they had to, others talking to friends not caring if they were late, and more still just wandering around not even going to class. I was one of those people.
I always skipped eighth period to hang out in the art hallway. There are seniors getting ready to leave as soon as they could, wanna-be art scholars with paint all over their hands, distressed teachers with paint in their hair and clay on their shoes, and even better; the sound of dreams being achieved or broken.
Art is delicate; with one stroke, you could screw up the entire painting, or create an inadvertent masterpiece. The same goes for dreams. They are not bullet-proof; you have to carefully shape them, and create them and slowly build them up, or they will crash around you in little shards that never quite look the same again no matter how you fix it.
The best place to see dreams is in art. Many students dream of becoming the next Picasso, or da Vinci, or Michelangelo, but few ever achieve that level of recognition. Their dreams are carefully crafted out of the finest clay, maybe even stone, carved to perfection, dusted until it gleams, but with one wrong choice; it crashes to the floor, destroyed forever. No matter how you put the pieces back together, there will always be some cracks and it won't be quite the way it was before. Kind of like a meteor shower. Kind of like humans. Kind of like life.
The sound of that is heartbreaking; knowing that someone's dreams are lying in shards around them is terrifying because you can't help thinking what if that was me? What if my dreams were broken? What if I'm not good enough?
Doubt is a powerful opponent to dreams. It wiggles in your brain, infiltrating everything until you're constantly questioning everything you do, wondering if this is the moment when you feel everything fall to pieces and realize there is no turning back. Few people ever survive a doubt attack; it eats away at your dreams until there is nothing left of them. And that's even worse than having them crash to your feet. Because if they break, there's always a chance of rebuilding a new, better dream. But if they just fade away, there's nothing left to rebuild.
That's the sound I love most about the art hallway. Not the shattering of dreams, but the achieving of them. When finally, the last stroke is painted, the last carve made, and you realize that this is your dream, and this is you living it. It sounds like love and beauty and happiness and hard work and tears and sweat and its one of the best sounds in the world.
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Love unbridled is a volcano that burns down and lays waste all around it: it is an abyss that devours all-honour, substance and health.
-Richard von Krafft Ebing
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I had just heard another person's dreams being crushed under the boot of doubt when tragedy struck at exactly 2:34pm.
Brian broke up with Courtney.
It wasn't as momentous an occasion for the school as it was for me. Inside of me, angels were simultaneously singing, and falling down to earth. The singing ones were happy he was single, and the falling ones were worried about what that might mean for me.
On the one hand, Brian's recent single status meant that he was up for grabs for anyone, including me.
On the other hand, I hated my brain for adding including me onto that statement. I didn't want anything to do with that skin-changing chameleon. But the singing angels didn't agree. I desperately wanted to ignore Brian, but was in danger of falling; for a person, not down to earth.
My heart had burst when I heard the news that Brian was no longer covered in flame retardant. It was now laying in little pieces at the bottom of my chest; when I put it back together there was a little Brain-shaped hole that was begging to be filled. I hated my heart for that hole. But I also desperately wanted to fix it.
My dreams were slowly being reconstructed without my permission. Construction workers were working around the clock to make sure that this dream was water-proof, bullet-proof, Brian-proof and crack-proof. There was no way I was going to have my heart or my dreams broken by Brian again.
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Love is a hole in the heart.
-Ben Hecht
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My way of life as I knew it was destroyed exactly one week after Brian broke up with Courtney. I had decided to call that momentous day BBCH (Brian broke Courtney's heart).
I was at CSA again. Outside the window with my new charcoal that Jude had surprisingly bought for me out of her own pocket money.
We were learning how to do shading and lighting. I had always excelled at shading, with my pictures mostly made out of shadows and black with very little light and white, but needed a little help highlighting and making things stand out. With my charcoal, I swiped it across the page, creating a long gash of black and opening up the page so it would give me its secrets. With the white, I ran it over part of the black line, making a gray, mushy part in the middle. I had black, white, and many shades of gray, but still no highlighted part, and no shadowed part. Nothing stood out.
Until I saw the very real black shadow cast over my white page.
I whipped my head around to see who had been spying on me.
It was Brian.
My heart was going to soar up through my throat jump down his, and make its home there. I tried to force it back down to where it belonged in my chest, but it was too strong. Before I could stop it, my heart leaped out my mouth and disappeared into his mouth. I could see it pulsing next to his own heart, and I finally knew what it felt like to have your heart stolen.
Eventually I realized that we had yet to speak to each other. He was looking at me like he wasn't sure if I was the cure to cancer, or the cause of cancer. I was glaring at him, angry that my heart decided his chest was a better home than mine was.
"Hi."
I couldn't decide who had spoken. I wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if I should go with a casual "hi" or a formal "hello" or a flippant "hey" or even a rude "yo." I then figured out it was Brian, because my mouth hadn't moved, and as far as I was aware, I hadn't learned how to throw my voice between two seconds ago and now.
"Hey."
I decided to go with flippant, like it didn't matter to me that he was standing in front of me.
"Whatcha doing?" What kind of word is "whatcha?" Is that even a word?
"Nothing." Admiring you.
"Cool."
"What are you doing?" Will you kiss me already?
I wanted to throw myself into a volcano for having those thoughts. I was supposed to be immune to his charms; my dreams and my heart were supposed to be Brian-proof. My construction workers must be faulty.
Apparently he had answered me, because he was looking at me expectantly, like he was waiting for my own answer.
Oops.
"Uh, cool." I borrowed his word from before. Hopefully that was a sufficient answer.
"Wanna go somewhere?" Wait, what? Did he just ask me out on a date? What's going on? And again with those made up words.
"I mean, like, to look at stars. As friends," he clarified.
Oh.
"Uh, sure?" It came out as more of a question. I wasn't sure where we were going with this, but I did like to look at stars.
"Great. Let's go." Huh? It wasn't even dark out. How were we going to look at stars?
"Uh, okay?" I was very verbal and concise. Also very confused at the sudden turn of events. But, nonetheless, I followed him out of the woods and back to his house. I knew the path like my own name.
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I never really understood the saying like the back of my hand. Because who really knows what the back of their hand looks like? How can you even memorize that? Does that mean you know the location of all your veins, and all the bones, and where you have a freckle, and what size your fingers are, and what shape your fingernails are? There are too many variations in memorizing the back of your hand. But, knowing your name; that's a no-brainer. Everyone knows their own name. It's one of the first things you ever learn.
-Noah
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At his roof, Brian had everything already set up.
"So, you just look through here," Brian started to say, demonstrating where to put my eye, "then you just-NO don't touch that," I had apparently touched something I wasn't supposed to, "so when you put your eye here, don't touch anything," got it, "and there you go." It seemed that Brian was nervous as well. He had repeated the same information twice.
The stars were blinding.
They were so bright and everywhere. I, myself was made out of star dust and light and planets and the universe. I couldn't even speak for fear that stars would fall out of my mouth. The stars blotted out the black sky and made me feel like I was drowning in light. My mind exploded in a blaze of starlight and radiant color. The entirety of the universe was over my head and I couldn't even feel it.
I was hyperaware of Brian behind me, with his hand on a lever keeping the telescope steady for me. I could feel his breath ghosting across the back of my neck, making me shiver. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, unsure if they wanted to reach across and touch his shoulder, or touch his hair so I decided to be safe and stick them in the hand-jail so they wouldn't do anything embarrassing.
"Wow." I finally found my voice and articulated my thoughts of the stars. I wanted to say something about how they were engulfing the blackness of the sky and making everything light and not dark and brightening up the sky and turning everything into starlight and moonlight. But my voice didn't want to cooperate. So I stuck with wow.
"I know, right? I kind of want to paint it. You know, if I could paint." I totally agreed with him. My fingers were shaking again, but this time because they wanted a paintbrush and paper. I wanted to capture everything on canvas, all my feelings, the stars, Brian next to me, and the sound of the universe above me.
"Here, let me show you something. You'll completely lose your mind." Yeah, I was losing my mind, but not because of the stars.
His arm went around my waist and my legs almost dropped. My entire body was made out of dust and it was going to fall apart at any moment. As if his arm wasn't enough, his movement brought his mouth closer to the back of my neck. I shivered at his closeness. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn he shivered against my back too.
Whatever he had done to the telescope with his arm made the stars look a million times bigger and closer. My eyes were swimming in an ocean of stars and light. Buckets and buckets of light were being dumped over my head, soaking my entire being with stars and making me weightless. I felt I could float right up there and become a star, twinkling in the sky.
"Wow." It amazed me that I could not find any other words to express how I was feeling.
"I know." I turned to him, and he wasn't looking at the stars. His head was turned towards me, and I got the feeling that he hadn't been looking at the stars all evening.
My heart was thumping. I could feel my heartbeat in every part of my body. I was sure he could hear it pounding away in my chest. My fingers twitched, wanting to touch his hair to touch his face his shoulders his stomach to touch every part of him at the same time.
He leaned closer in my space. I could feel every part of our bodies lining up, like they were made to fit together, like puzzle pieces.
His closeness was doing things to my body. My breath was coming in shallowly and my lungs wouldn't expand past a few cubic inches of air. It was like my lungs suddenly forgot how to take in air because of his presence. It messed with my mind that he had such an effect on me. He made my lungs forget how to be lungs. He made my mouth forget how to make words. He made my brain forget how to think. How could someone have that effect on you, just by standing in front of you?
I could sense, rather than see him inch closer closer closer until his lips were on mine. His hands came up and bunched my shirt in his fists trying to bring me even closer to him. My hands found a home in his hair because I could finally finally touch it. He moaned in my mouth when I swiped my tongue across his lips. He in turn shoved his tongue into my own mouth tasting everything in there; my teeth, my cheeks. I moved my hands from his hair down to his shoulders then down to his waist then to his hips where they stayed. His hands moved from my back up up up to my hair where he smoothed it away from my forehead then moved down to my cheeks framing my face.
We eventually broke away gasping for air and breathing heavily. Our foreheads were touching and somehow my hands had moved up framing his face matching his posture. My eyes were still closed so I opened them. He was looking at my lips like they were the answer to world peace. My gaze kept flicking from his lips to his eyes scared that he was going to say it was a mistake. But it didn't happen. He just dove back in capturing my lips with his own desperate for more more more. It was a hungrier kiss. We were pulling each other closer hands everywhere lips everywhere. I wanted him all over me.
We broke apart again trying to grab as much air as we could. I slipped my hands under his shirt because I could do that now and felt his hard stomach his wide shoulders his narrow waist trying not to be embarrassed about my own less-than-stellar body.
He shivered as I touched each part of his body. His hands went down to the hem of my shirt, and he slid them under the fabric. His eyes flickered close. He whispered god under his breath and I shivered. His voice was raspy and low and it did things to me. My legs were weak already, and his voice turned them to jelly. His hands wandered all around my chest, mapping out my body.
"You're beautiful." He muttered. I had never been called beautiful before, especially by another dude. I decided I liked the compliment, even if I didn't believe it.
Doubt must have shown on my face, because he frowned a little, and then I saw determination set in his eyes. In one motion, he ripped my shirt up and over my head, exposing me to the cold wind of the outside. His eyes swept up and down my body as if he was trying to memorize each crevice and bump. I wanted to wrap my arms around myself but his gaze locked me in place.
His hands reached out like he wanted to touch me but stopped a couple inches away. He looked afraid to place his hands on me. Like I would break if he did something wrong. I was feeling a little confident, so I took his hands in my own and placed them on my shoulders. He smirked at me and brought me closer to him. His lips met mine and he showed me with his body how beautiful he thought I was. I in turn showed him everything I couldn't put into words.
The Brian-shaped hole had been filled in my heart. I could feel my dreams being achieved and the sound was even better than I had imagined. Listening to other people's dreams being accomplished just isn't the same thing as having yours be accomplished.
My heart was weird and it was cracked in places and stretched in others and bits of black were peeking through but it was beautiful in all its damage.
Let me know what you think!