Many, many many thanks to eureka1 for doing the beta work on this one.
This story will probably take you through all emotional stages, so approach with caution. It picks up where Cowlip left it off - with Justin's departure to New York City.
Insistent knocking on the metal door pulled Brian from sleep. It took him a few moments to remember Justin had left hours ago, and that whoever was at the door wanted only to intrude and make sure he wasn't drowning his sorrows in Jim Beam.
To fuck with whoever was at the door, Brian thought, rolling onto his other side. A shiver wracked his naked body in response to the blast of cold air from the air conditioner. Since it was, naturally, already miserably hot and humid in June, Justin must have left the air conditioner running.
The knocking didn't relent, getting on Brian's nerves.
He snatched a pair of boxers, pulling them on and stumbling to the door.
"It had better be good," he mumbled, pulling the heavy door open.
The first thing he saw was a joint; then Debbie's face came into focus, along with her big smile.
Groaning, Brian turned around, allowing her to come inside. "Shut the door behind you," he stated through a yawn.
"Aren't you a ray of sunshine this fine afternoon?" she teased, depositing the joint and a bowl of tuna macaroni casserole on the counter.
"What time is it?" Brian called from the bathroom, where he'd retreated to relieve himself.
"It's two in the afternoon. Why?" Debbie asked curiously as he returned. She eyed him in amusement, from his undressed state – to the bed lines on his chest – to his tousled hair. "Don't tell me. You were sleeping."
"Ding, ding, ding." He plopped onto the couch, scrubbing at his face. "The sun was rising when we finally fell asleep. I don't know how or when Justin woke up."
Debbie gasped, going to sit next to him. "You didn't take Sunshine to the airport? You let him go alone?" she chided.
"What the fuck for? We're not a couple of teary lesbians." Brian grabbed his smokes from the table. "Besides, we cried enough last night," he admitted in a small voice, studiously ignoring the mother figure next to him.
"Oh, honey." She hugged him tightly, pulling him close and stroking his hair. "It'll be okay. You'll see."
Brian huffed. "Are you smoking the same shit as Justin? He said the same thing. Nothing will be the same. We won't see each other all the time. We won't visit. I have Kinnetik to worry about, and I'm still thinking about what to do with Babylon. He should focus on becoming a fucking success."
Debbie laughed heartily. "You're the one smoking shit, kiddo. You'll be on the first plane to visit when he says he needs you."
Brian glared at her but didn't deny her statement. "I can live without him just fine," he said after a while.
"Ah, I haven't seen this bravado from you in years. We need the high-quality weed I brought over for this conversation."
"There's no bravado. I survived twenty-nine years without him; I can survive twenty-nine more."
Debbie brought the joint to the couch, patting Brian's cheek lovingly. "There's a problem with that. You didn't know Sunshine for the first twenty-nine years of your life. And it'll be hard, but I know you'll survive."
Brian lit the roach, taking a pull, before slowly exhaling. "This is pretty good shit."
"The upside of dating a cop."
"Why, Debbie, stealing from the police weed stash?" He laughed loudly, puffs of smoke escaping his mouth.
She smirked, not divulging anything. "Now, set that bravado aside because you can't fool me. Tell me how you really feel."
Brian was never able to lie to or hide from Debbie, and he had no idea how to evade this conversation. He wasn't ready to admit that he felt like a part of him was missing now that Justin was gone; it would sound too pathetically lesbianic.
Debbie took a pull from the joint, nudging Brian with her elbow. "Remember when Claire went off to college?"
"What the fuck?" He narrowed his eyes. Talking about that cunt was the last thing he wanted.
"It took a lot of prodding and poking from me, but when you finally admitted that you'd miss her, I knew there was more to that statement than you let on."
"Oh, yeah. It wasn't like she was home much anyway. But her departure meant I'd be alone in that fucking hellhole with Saint Joan and Drunk Jack."
She stroked his cheek. "Why do you think I invited you over so much?"
"Here I thought you liked me, or that you wanted me to keep Mikey company," Brian said sarcastically.
"Brian, you have no idea how many times my heart broke when you came to us in the middle of the night. Especially when you were older and too proud to let me take care of your wounds. You'd lock yourself in the bathroom and curse for hours while tending to your cuts and bruises."
"And people wonder why I'm so fucked up," Brian mumbled, taking the joint from Debbie's hand. He leaned his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes.
"I'll never understand how some people can hurt their children. I know I spanked Michael twice, but it was mostly because he scared the shit out of me by disappearing. The first real slap across the face was when he railed against Carl."
Brian cringed, remembering when he'd punched Michael at the girls' anniversary some years ago. "I can't say I didn't get in fights or throw punches, as you'd know better than anyone." He glanced up, catching her eyes. "But when I punched Michael...God...I still can't believe I hurt him. I wanted to apologize the next second, but what he'd said was inexcusable."
"He told me I'd have done it too if I'd heard him," Debbie said quietly.
"It's better no one else heard him. Especially Justin. We all know about his temper."
Debbie tilted her head. "Did Michael say something about Justin at that party? Sunshine had every right to be there with his new boyfriend."
"That's what I told Michael too. But he went on and on...you know how he can run his mouth. Wonder where he got that from?" Brian asked with a smirk.
"What did he say?"
"You don't want to know, Debbie."
"Something against Sunshine. Nothing else could have made you punch your best friend."
Brian nodded, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Tell me, kiddo. It's all water under the bridge now."
"Not this. It never will be. It will always hang over Justin like an ugly cloud... He's still not okay, you know? He's strong though and doesn't let anyone see through his facade."
"You mean Michael commented about the bashing?"
Brian gulped loudly, inhaling from the joint. "Yeah. He said I should have...should...have...left him there...for dead."
"What?" Debbie pulled away, glaring at Brian. "You're not making this up, are you?"
"No one in their right mind would make up such a thing, Debbie. Anyway, like you said, it's water under the bridge. We talked about it, he apologized, and I brushed him off."
"But you didn't forgive him," she said quietly.
"It's not something I can forgive. It doesn't matter that Michael is my best friend; what he said was beyond cruel. It wasn't like that time when we were fourteen and he jokingly slapped me. I never knew someone could playfully slap someone else."
"It took a lot of convincing from me to make you believe that my son didn't hate you, and that he hadn't meant to slap you. That was when I had a serious discussion with Michael about the cruel people in the world and explained to him that not all parents are as nice as me."
"That's why he was kissing my ass next day in school. I couldn't get rid of him."
They finished the roach, and Brian brought out his own stash, rolling a new one as Debbie brought over the tuna macaroni casserole.
"I still remember the day I met you," Debbie said after a while, smiling into space.
Brian cringed, but he was transported twenty years earlier too.
.
.
.
The new school sucked.
Brian had changedschools three times so far. His behavior got him kicked out, after he took out his anger on his classmates for daring to pick on him.
No one knew about his home environment, and they taunted him mercilessly about his lack of money for lunch, his dirty and ripped clothes, and his long absences from school after his father used him as a boxing bag.
The new school wasn't much different from the others. He had yet to miss a day because of Jack, but he was ready to skip classes that day.
It had been a week since he started at this school, and he actually liked it a bit better than the other schools. He was still new, and no one had yet picked on him. It was the beginning of the semester, and he had to turn in a big essay for English class. He'd stayed up most of the night writing it, causing him to awaken late. It was enough to make his old man to fly off the handle, screaming at Brian for being lazy and yelling that he wouldn't become anything in life if he slept through the day. He'd overslept by five minutes, not hours. No excuse worked to placate Jack's rage, and Brian left for school with a sore rib and a red cheek.
Near the end of the day, when he was at the lockers to exchange books, he saw a couple of seniors picking on a short, dark-haired guy. They were trying to stuff him into a locker.
Brian had seen the boy in some of his classes, and he could tell he was helpless against the bullies.
His anger exploded as he strode over to them.
"Leave him alone!" Brian shouted, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.
"Oh, if it isn't the new freshman," one of the seniors said, sneering.
"And the duckling has balls," the other joked.
Brian glared. "Yeah. Wanna see them?" he dared. "Get away from him! Pick on someone your size!"
"Like you, maybe?" The seniors turned on him, but Brian was quick. He sucker punched one of them and, when the other guy turned to run away, he threw his heavy math book after him, nailing his shoulder.
He knew that he'd made enemies, but he didn't care. With the seniors out of sight, Brian turned to his fellow freshman.
"Hey. You okay?"
The boy's wide brown eyes stared up in awe at his new superhero. "Yeah. Thanks."
Brian smiled, reaching out a hand to help him up. "I'm Brian."
"Michael."
"Nice to meet you, Michael." When Brian turned to leave, Michael pulled him back by the sleeve.Brian raised a brow questioningly.
"Do you have plans after school?"
"Not really."
"How about I thank you with a milkshake?"
Brian grinned. "That doesn't sound so bad." He'd be in trouble for being home late, but it wasn't every day that he made a friend.
Between that break and the end of the school day, the seniors found Michael alone and tripped him in the parking lot, where he fell, scraping his palms and knees.
Brian discovered his new friend on a bench, head hung down, jeans ripped, and knees bloodied.
"What happened, Michael?"
Michael looked up, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Ma will be so mad," he whispered. "These were my new jeans."
Brian could relate. His father always got upset when he ripped his clothes. They cost money that he worked hard to make. Brian had been seriously thinking about finding himself a job to get his own stuff - and maybe give Jack one less reason to beat him.
"Come on. I'll take you home."
"It hurts," Michael admitted.
"I bet. We'll walk slowly." He slung Michael's backpack over his shoulder, draped one of Michael's arms around his neck, and they shuffled away from school.
"Do you still want that milkshake?" Michael asked after a few minutes.
"What about your knees?"
"Ma works at the diner. I go there after school every day."
"If you're sure."
Michael nodded, steering him toward Liberty Avenue.
Brian had never been on that side of the town. Even though it was daytime, there were still all kinds of different people out and about. He openly gaped at two men kissing in the middle of the road. He couldn't look away.
Michael chuckled, nudging his friend toward the diner. "Never seen two guys kissing?"
Brian shook his head, dazed, still glancing behind himself at the two men. His tummy squirmed, and he felt warm all over. It was like that time when he'd seen the neighbor across the street, naked and touching himself late at night. Or like he felt every time he saw the sweaty football players at his old school. To Brian's horror, his dick started to harden, and he had no idea how to hide it.
"Almost there." Michael's voice pulled him away from his thoughts.
"So you've seen two guys kissing before?" Brian asked casually.
Michael snorted. "It would be hard to miss that around here. Don't tell me you've never been here before."
Brian shook his head. "No, I've never been to this part of town. I've heard about men kissing on TV, but Pops said it's an abnormality and disgusting."
"And what do you think?"
Brian peeked over his shoulder at the couple still exchanging spit. "It's pretty hot."
Michael beamed at his new friend. "I must warn you about Ma. She's loud and overbearing, but she means well."
Brian knew loud. His family was always loud and, if overbearing meant not accepting shit, resulting in punches, Brian knew about that too.
Michael opened the door to the diner, scowling at the bell that announced their presence.
Debbie was near the door, delivering a meal, when she heard the bell. She turned, smiling, knowing it was her son. The sight of him, disheveled and bloody, sent her into a frenzy.
"Michael! Goodness. What happened, sweetie?" She rushed to his side, stroking his tear-stained cheeks, checking his scraped palms and knees.
"The same guys...they pushed me down in the school yard."
"I'm so going to have a talk with your principal."
"Earlier today, they tried stuffing me into a locker," Michael added in a small voice. But before his mother could go on a rampage, he continued, "Brian here saved me."
It was then that Debbie finally noticed the other boy. Brian. Michael had been talking about him non-stop since he'd started school a week earlier, having joined her son's school in the middle of the school year.
"Thank you, Brian! I'm Debbie Novotny."
"It's okay, Mrs. Novotny. They were really mean to Michael."
"I invited him for a milkshake to thank him," Michael explained.
Debbie looked between the boys, smiling. "That's very nice of you, honey. Go to your booth. I'll be right there with two milkshakes and antiseptic. What kind of milkshake would you like, Brian?"
"Chocolate, please."
She smiled, disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.
"Your mom is nice. She wasn't even mad about your new jeans."
"I guess me being hurt threw her off," Michael joked.
They sat at the booth in the back of the diner. While waiting for Debbie, the boys made small talk about their classes. Brian suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his eyes glued to the door.
Michael turned to see what got his friend's attention. It was the couple from the street. They were holding hands, laughing, and stealing kisses.
It would be his lucky day if Brian turned out to be gay too.
"So you like boys?" Michael asked casually.
"Michael Novotny! I brought you up to be more polite than that," Debbie scolded him, appearing next to their table with her hands full. After depositing the milkshakes, she sat next to her son, keeping her eyes on Brian. "So, do you?"
"Ma!" Michael laughed, embarrassed.
Brian turned red, looking between mother and son, then at the couple. He ended up shrugging.
After Debbie was done with tending to Michael, she made Brian scoot closer to the wall, moving to sit by his side. "Let me see that cheek, honey. Did the seniors give you that shiner?"
Brian's eyes widened in fear, and he placed his palm over his purple cheek, as if to hide it.
Debbie frowned, checking the boy's panicked eyes. In that moment, she knew that Brian was going to become a good friend of her son's, and that she'd do anything in her power to keep him safe.
"It's okay. Let me look at it."
"When did they hurt you? Did they go after you too?" Michael inquired from across the table, cementing Debbie's fears that the shiner was given by someone else, not the seniors.
Brian glared at Michael, but he allowed Debbie to check his bruise.
"Use this cream. It will be okay in a few days." She placed a small tube in his hand.
Brian stared in amazement at the cream before quickly stuffing it into his backpack. He was going to use it on all his bruises.
.
.
.
"I have to say it was an experience meeting you, seeing Liberty Avenue for the first time." Brian commented with a wink.
"Oh, I bet it was just what you needed to discover yourself."
"It answered all my questions about why I liked to watch my neighbor touching himself, or drooled over the boys on the football team, or dreamed and got a stiffy about said football players."
Debbie laughed. "I knew though, from the first moment I saw you, that there was a sad story behind those gorgeous eyes of yours."
"And you found it out not long after I met Michael."
"There had been hints of the domestic violence in your house for a while, but that night explained it all," Debbie said somberly.
.
.
.
Brian didn't expect anything special for his birthday. It was his fifteenth, and all he wanted was to pass the day as an invisible person.
He'd heard his pops come in late the previous night, most likely drunk. Jack had screamed at his mother, followed by some banging, and, finally, silence.
The next morning, Brian decided it was wise to stay in his room. He found some chocolate chip cookies Debbie had sent home with him the previous week. They were rock-hard, but Brian chewed on them so he wouldn't have to leave his room to find something to eat.
He found a magazine he'd taken from Michael. It was the very same one he and Michael had jerked off over, the one with Patrick Swayze's picture. If Brian had the money, he'd go watch Swayze's new movie but, for now,he was satisfied that Debbie had given him money to watch Pretty in Pink and a re-show of The Breakfast Club with Michael a while ago.
Maybe finding a job wouldn't be so difficult now that summer was fast approaching. Otherwise, only a few more weeks of school, then a summer stuck in the house. Brian would do anything he could to escape that place.
He imagined working in a camp and meeting a beautiful guy. Like his gym teacher. Brian grinned, remembering a few weeks ago when he'd gone down on his teacher. He'd been terrified, his knees shaking, but he'd loved hearing the sounds out of the man's mouth, the man's scent, his hands gripping Brian's hair. Brian hoped that shower rendezvous landed him a spot on the soccer team next year.
The door of his room opened with a bang, startling him from the fantasy.
Quickly, Brian covered his stiffy with the magazine, though his father's glare was enough to wither his erection.
"Yeah?" Brian said, uncertainly.
"We've been calling for you. I told Joanie not to bother to do anything nice for you! Why did you ignore us, you little bastard?"
"I didn't hear you, I swear." Brian jumped out of the bed on the other side when Jack approached him.
"You don't deserve anything from us! You're a waste of space and money."
Brian's eyes watered. "I haven't asked anything of you!" he shouted, feeling brave with the bed between them. "I even stopped asking for clothes. I'm still wearing shirts that no longer fit."
"We bought those for you last month!"
"I've grown since then! I bet you remember being my age and shooting up overnight!"
"Stop yelling at me, you little shit!" Jack rounded the bed, pushing Brian into the wall, knocking the breath out of him for a moment. "I'll teach you to not run your mouth and be respectful of the things you have!"
Brian's reflexes were quick. He covered he face with his arms, but left his stomach unprotected.
"I don't want to hear any more complaints from you. Now, you'll come downstairs and thank your mother for wasting the money I worked hard to earn to bake you a cake. And you will eat it, even if it tastes like crap."
Jack pushed Brian out of his room, kicking him from behind every few steps.
A surprisingly sober Joan was standing by the kitchen table, where a lopsided chocolate cake waited on a plate. She opened her arms when Brian appeared in the doorway and put her hands on his shoulders, smiling.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart!" She kissed his cheek. "I made your favorite. Chocolate chocolate chip cake."
Brian's stomach roiled. The cake looked like a pile of shit, and the cookies he'd tried eating hadn't sat well with him.
His uneasiness went unseen as Joan poured him a glass of juice.
Jack pushed him into a chair. "Eat your cake, Sonny Boy."
As Brian picked at a slice of cake, he kept his eyes on his parents, who were watching him.
"Any plans for today?" His mother inquired.
"I was thinking of taking Michael out, but I don't exactly have money. He's my only friend," he explained, hoping to touch their dead hearts.
"How much do you need? Twenty bucks enough?" His mother grabbed her purse.
Brian was stunned, but before he could answer, Jack let out a huff. He snatched the purse out of his wife's hands.
"That's my money! I worked hard for it. You won't waste it on games."
"We want to see the new movie, Youngblood."
The name of the movie piqued Jack's interest. "At least, it's nothing as stupid as that Police Academy thing."
Brian bit his tongue to keep from stating that he actually enjoyed the Police Academy series and couldn't wait for the new movie. He knew better than to say anything.
"Here you go." Jack handed Brian a ten-dollar bill. "It's more than enough."
"And maybe you'll bring your friend over. We'd like to meet him," Joan said, smiling.
"Maybe." Brian knew he'd never bring Michael into his house. He was too pure and unsullied to be around such monsters.
After eating three slices of the shitty-looking cake, which actually tasted pretty good, his parents got off his back and scattered. Brian took advantage of the empty kitchen to call Michael.
"Hello?" It was Debbie who answered.
"Hi, Mrs. Novotny. It's Brian."
"I told you to call me Debbie, honey. Michael is around the corner buying bread. Do you want me to give him a message?"
"I wanted to know if we're still on to meet at five." Brian curled his fingers around the cord of the phone.
"Oh, I had no idea you'd made plans. I'll tell him to give you a call when he's back."
"No, no. It's okay. I guess he can't come." The last thing Brian wanted was for someone to call his house.
"Of course, he can meet you, honey. I'll remind him. Look, my lasagna is burning, so I have to go. Michael will call you later."
Brian was met by a beeping noise after Debbie hung up. Shit.
He retreated to his room, straining to hear in case the phone rang. He did his homework, picked up around his room, took a shower, used some of the cream he'd nicked from Debbie (even though she made sure he always had a new tube of cream when the previous one was finished, Brian was usually too embarrassed to ask for more) on his fresh bruises, and finally relaxed. It was past five. Michael had definitely forgotten about their plan.
That was when the phone let out a shrill ring.
He sprinted out of his room, almost knocking over his old man, who had been roused from his afternoon drinking haze.
"Hello?" Brian said in hushed voice into the phone, aware of beady eyes glaring daggers into his back.
"Brian? Hi! Mom told me that you called."
"Yeah. We still on?"
"Sure. Where do you want to meet?"
"I'll come get you later." Brian hung up, closed his eyes, and turned to face his father.
"Now you're using the phone. Maybe you should start paying your share for everything you use in this house, so you understand how expensive everything is!"
"It was Michael. We made plans to meet for my birthday. I told you we were going to the movies."
"Whatever. Next time, you'll be paying the phone bill."
Brian stormed into his room to change his clothes. Nothing fit him anymore, but he liked the way the tight shirts looked on him.
On his way out of the house, Brian made an spur-of-the-moment decision to take money from his father's coat. He knew the ten dollars Jack had given him wouldn't be enough.
He barely had the front door open, however, when it was slammed shut and his head knocked into it.
"You little thief!" Punches flew, and Brian had no idea what part of his body to shield first.
"You won't give me the money I need, not even on my birthday!"
"Because you're an ungrateful little shit! You don't do anything in this house!" Jack's fist connected with Brian's nose.
Blood spurted out of his nose just as tears sprung from his eyes. "I'm a fucking kid! What do you want from me? I get the best grades in class. I clean my room. I even take the trash out."
"You're another mouth to feed. A waste of space." Jack opened the door, pushing Brian out. "I'm taking the trash out too."
Brian landed on his ass, staring in shock at the raging man. "Pops..."
"Get the fuck out of my sight!"
Brian scrambled up before running as fast as his feet could carry him toward Debbie's house. His ribs hurt; it was hard to breathe through his bloody nose; his head was throbbing where it had been knocked against the door; and his ass was sore.
It was getting dark when he reached the Novotny residence.
Before he could knock on the door, he stopped himself. Debbie would know. It would take a blind person or an idiot not to know what had happened.
But Brian was beyond caring. He'd rather live aloneif it meant the police would take that monster away from him.
He wiped snot and blood off his face, finally raising a hand to knock on the door. It opened before he mustered the courage to rap his knuckles against it.
Debbie had been watching the struggling teenager through the window and, when she noticed that he'd gathered enough courage to knock, she opened the door. She took in his battered state, then engulfed him in a big hug.
Brian froze, remembering the time Jack had him in a headlock. He struggled out of her arms, took two steps back, and watched her with a panicked stare.
"It's okay, kiddo. I won't hurt you." She approached him again, placed one arm around his waist, and rubbed his shoulders with her other hand.
It felt good. It didn't hurt. It was unlike anything else he'd ever felt.
"This is nice," he mumbled into her hair, finally relaxing.
She pulled him inside, closing the door. "I want you to know that you'll always be safe here," she whispered, still hugging him.
"Thank you, Mrs. Nov... uh, Debbie."
She beamed, cupping his cheek. "Now, let me look at you."
"Brian! I thought I heard your voice." Michael came bounding down the stairs. "Oh, shit! Did you get into a fight?"
Debbie caught the anxious look in Brian's eyes and turned to her son. "Go get the first aid kit, honey."
She steered Brian to the couch. "I won't tell Michael, but we both know he'll figure it out eventually."
"So much for being his hero. What kind of hero gets his ass kicked?"
"Kiddo, you didn't do anything to deserve this. I won't tell anyone, but if you are ever ready to talk about it, I'm here."
"Thank you." He smiled, but thenwinced when the smile made his split lip hurt.
Debbie shooed Michael away after he delivered the first aid kit, saying he shouldn't see his friend in this state. He actually listened, going to his room.
"Can I ask one thing, though?" Debbie said after cleaning Brian's cuts in silence for a while.
He shrugged, biting his lip to keep from screaming in pain.
"What did you supposedly do to make him so upset?"
Brian's clouded eyes found hers. "I was born."
Debbie's heart shattered at the seriousness in the kid's voice. She wrapped her arms around him again.
"I'm a waste of space. I don't do anything in the house. They don't care if I get good grades. I don't know what they expect from me. All I hoped was that my birthday would go by without incident," he mumbled, feeling more tears running down his cheeks.
"You mean he did this to you on your birthday?" Debbie gasped, pulling away to stare at him in shock.
"All the more reason, I guess."
"What an animal. You can stay here as long as you like, Brian. You're always welcome here."
When Debbie was done cleaning his cuts and tending to his bruises, she brought him some lasagna.
"You're too skinny. Growing boys need several meals a day. Do you want me to get Michael? I think he must have fallen asleep, or he wouldn't have stayed in his room for so long."
"Let him sleep," Brian whispered. "Though..."
"Yes?" She sat next to him, hovering. She was ready to call the social workers to have Brian removed from neglectful and abusive parents.
"Can you do that thing again? The thing with your arms around me. It felt really nice."
"You want a hug? I love giving hugs." She squeezed him to her chest, rocking both of them.
"So this is a hug?"
"No. Don't tell me. Of course, those animals never showed you affection." Debbie hugged him tightly, trying not to cry at the thought that a fifteen year old had never been hugged. "From now on, you'll be sick of hugs. Hugs are my specialty."
Brian smiled against her shoulder, tentatively wrapping his arms around her. "They're nice."
.
.
.
"And after that you got sick of me using your couch as if it were my bed."
"Not even when you abused it. I remember when I heard you coming in late at night, or early morning, whichever you prefer. I thought Jack had hurt you again, even though I knew he was supposed to be away for a few days. When I came downstairs, I found you drunk, bottle of Beam in hand, and a guy sucking you off."
Brian puffed from his joint, chuckling. "The good old days."
"You were seventeen!"
"Your point? I was a rebel."
"Not under my roof. Though I knew both Michael and I were going to lose you if I gave you a lecture and kicked you out. You'd have taken it personally because it was all you knew," Debbie said softly.
"Instead you kicked out my trick."
"We couldn't have Michael's innocent eyes seeing that," she joked.
"True. I still can't believe the lad stayed untouched until eighteen."
"And whose fault was that, Brian? He hoped you'd be the one."
"And I told him no. At least, he grew a brain and made a boyfriend at the end of senior year."
"Who you'd sampled before, to make sure he was good."
"You can't accuse me of not being a good best friend. What if he'd turned out to be a freak?"
Debbie rolled her eyes. "And what would you have known about freaks? You were eighteen."
Brian caught her eye, laughing. "Backroom of Babylon. Need I say more?"
"At eighteen?" She gasped.
"On my sweet sixteenth I had my cherry popped in the backroom, if you'd like to know. I still don't know how the guy looked, but damn, it felt good."
"You don't know who you fucked for the first time?"
"Who fucked me for the first time," Brian corrected her. "Maybe that's why I gave Justin that special night when I heard it was his first." He shrugged. "I don't give a fuck. It was amazing as it was, and I wouldn't change it for anything."
Debbie shook her head. "I hope Michael didn't step into the backroom until he was at least legal."
"That part of the club scared him. Poor widdle Michael."
"No wonder Sunshine followed in your footsteps." She chuckled, taking the last drag of the joint.
"I'll have you know that Justin was forbidden to step in the backroom until he was eighteen. That was my present for his coming of age. I took him there that weekend. He was like an excited three-year-old in a candy store."
"Did you let him sample other flavors?"
Brian smirked. "As many as he wanted because I knew he'd end up in my bed again that night, not with any of those brainless guys."
"And look how it turned out. Now you can't get rid of him."
"I don't even want to." Brian lowered on the sofa, stretching his legs under the table. "Fuck. I even asked him to marry me, something I'd sworn to myself I wouldn't do. Love, marriage, commitment...it's all a scam."
"Not if you meet the right person."
"I rejected love from the first moment I heard the word out of Saint Joan's mouth. She told me that she loved me but, a minute later, Pops backhanded me for spilling milk on the table. Saint Joan didn't get mad at Jack or comfort me. I was five."
"I'd like to think I set a pretty good example of what love meant once you started frequenting our house. Even though Michael can be a little shit, I love him to death. When Vic came back from New York HIV positive, what was I supposed to do? Kick him out for being careless? People didn't know much about the virus back then."
"Exactly. It didn't matter what people in your family did wrong or what happened to them. You still loved them. My parents hated me just for existing."
"Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you, kiddo?" Debbie cupped his cheek. "You've come a long way, manging to pull away from that hellish household. The horrors you lived through then helped form the man you are now."
"Every time Jack told me I'd end up a big nothing, it made me want to become a big success, able to buy and sell his ass a thousand times over."
"Yet, you still met with him and gave him money."
"Because a masochistic, ever-longing part of my heart hoped he'd see what I'd become and say he was proud of me, that he was sorry for the hell he dished out for eighteen years."
.
.
.
An eighteen-year-old Brian wiped sweat off his forehead as he stepped into his house. He'd mowed five lawns in the neighborhood that day, including the hot neighbor's across the street. That had been his extra tip, sucking the guy off, and then allowing him to fuck him in the swing on his porch.
"Where have you been?" Jack shouted when he saw Brian.
"Out. Earning my own money," Brian snarked, opening the cupboard door and taking a glass out. He filled it with tap water and drank half of it.
"How exactly did you earn money?" Jack laughed ironically.
"I mowed our neighbors' lawns. It's MY money."
"How much? Give it here. As long as you live under my roof, it's my money."
"No way. I plan to invest it in my car and save for college." Brian was quite proud of his car, a 1962 Chevy Nova. As much as as cars weren't his thing, the Nova had class.
"That piece of steel on wheels?"
"Yes, I got her with my own money. I have no idea how you missed her, but she's been around for a couple years since I got my license." Brian looked out the window as he talked, sensing something was wrong. No Nova. "Where is she?"
"I thought some drunk had stolen it and parked it in front of our house."
"What have you done with my car?" Brian yelled, throwing his glass at the wall. He couldn't believe his father would be so cruel. He had to have seen the car in front of the house for the past two years.
"They're probably towing it to the scrap metal yard."
Brian made sure to knock into his old man on his way out of the house. He'd suffer the consequences when he returned. If he returned.
It was nearing ten at night when he used the spare key to the Novotny residence, hidden behind the Cupid statue on the front porch. He didn't want to wake anyone, so he started searching for Debbie's car keys, making more noise than he intended.
"Jesus Christ, Brian! I thought you were a burglar." Debbie switched the light on. "Did he hurt you again?"
"I need your car keys."
"What happened to your car?"
"I have to rescue her before she becomes a pile of pressed metal. No thanks to Mr. Wonderful."
"He sold your car?" She gasped.
"He claims he didn't know it was mine. Seriously? Who is he fooling? He couldn't fool me when I was five, and he can't fool me now. Fucking asshole. If something happened to my car, I'm going to kill him," Brian roared.
"Calm down, honey. Let me get Michael to go with you. Someone will have to bring my car back, or do you plan on trading them?"
Brian cracked a smile. "Mine is a thousand times better than yours."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
That was how Brian and Michael ended up in the scrap metal yard at midnight, blindly searching for Brian's Nova. When they found it, Brian fell to his knees, stroking the rusty metal. The car was his first real possession, and he was closer to it than he was to his entire family.
It sputtered to life with only one try.
After thanking Michael for joining him in his midnight quest for his car, they drove to their respective homes. Brian parked around the block, to keep his precious car safe, before heading inside his house.
Jack was awake, waiting for him.
Brian didn't expect to be greeted by a punch in the nose, but he was quick to answer with a swing of his own. He rarely fought back, knowing Jack had always won, but the adrenaline was still running high through his veins. They threw punches and kicks until Joan came into the kitchen, afraid of what she'd find there. She always preferred to stay away when Jack was in one of his moods.
She turned the light on and cried out at the bloody men on the floor.
"Jack! Brian!"
"Stay out of this, woman! He needs to be taught a lesson for daring to hit his dad," Jack snarled.
Brian lay coiled on the floor, grunting when Jack kicked him in the stomach.
"Jack, stop!"
In his rage, he pushed her away, making her stumble over a chair.
Brian had never particularly cared for either of his parents, but he was closer to his mother if he had to choose. When he saw her falling, he kicked a foot up, hitting Jack in the knee. With a satisfying crack and thump, the man immediately crumpled to the floor.
Brian crawled to his mother. "Are you okay, Mom?"
He was surprised to be backhanded for his good deed. "He might drink too much, but he's a good man. He only wanted to teach you a lesson, and what did you do? You raised your hand to him. You hurt your father, Brian. God will never forgive you."
Brian resisted the urge to kick her too as he limped to his room, where he slammed the door shut. "Fuck you! Fuck both of you! I hope you go to HELL!"
He quickly threw a few clothes and books into his already-packed suitcase before going downstairs, ready to leave. As he opened the front door, he saw Jack on the couch, bottle of Beam in hand, glaring at him, and his mother checking Jack's leg.
"It's all your fault, Joanie. You wanted another brat. Look how he turned out." He pushed her away, standing up on unsteady legs. "If you leave now, I don't ever want you back!" Jack yelled at Brian.
"No worries there. I don't plan on ever stepping into this house again."
Brian heard the bottle smashing against the other side of the door when he closed it behind him. He took a gulp of air, relaxing.
Freedom.
He had no idea what he'd do for the next month until college started, but he wasn't returning to that hellish place. If it meant he had to sleep in his car, he'd do it.
After locking his suitcase in the trunk of the car along with his other belongings, Brian went to Woody's. He celebrated his freedom by drinking the night away.
With the first rays of sun, he made his way to Michael's house.
Debbie was awake and preparing breakfast when he tried fitting the spare key into the hole but couldn't manage the task.
She gave him a once-over, sighing heavily. She helped him to a chair in the kitchen, handing him a glass of water.
"Drink all that."
"I'm freeee! Free as a bird."
Debbie snorted, petting his head. "No more drinking for you."
"Freedom!"
"What has our young friend so happy so early this morning?" Vic asked, joining them downstairs.
"Vic!" Brian threw his arms around the man. "How are ya?"
"I've been better."
"I feel wonderful! We should celebrate. I'm headed to Babylon. Want to join me?"
Deb interjected, "Honey, I hate to break it to you, but Babylon closed an hour ago. It's seven in the morning."
"Oh, damn. There must be a place open to celebrate. I'm free! No more going to that hellish place."
"What do you mean? Did they kick you out for good?" Debbie gasped.
"I left. Fuck them."
.
.
.
"As sad as it was to see you that day when you came to us drunk, yet happy about your decision to leave your family, I knew I'd see a different Brian from that day on."
Brian scoffed, picking at the food. "You could say I was reborn when I left them. It was like I was seeing the world in a new light. College, my first job, this loft, being able to do anything I wanted, anyone I wanted, gaining respect at Babylon, becoming a success after being declared the youngest account manager in the company...the good days, you know?"
"Yet, a part from the past stayed with you. You kept meeting your dad to give him money." Debbie watched him sadly, knowing how affected Brian had still been all those years later. He'd still hoped to find closure and for his parents to be proud of him for what he'd become.
"Yeah, the joke was on me."
.
.
.
The first time Brian decided to visit his family was on Christmas Eve, the same year he'd gotten a job at one of the best advertising companies in town. He'd scarcely seen his family while he was in college, and an unknown force had been pushing him toward his childhood home.
It was late evening when he rang the doorbell, shuffling nervously. Despite the frigid air outside, Brian's hands were sweaty as he clutched the bouquet of roses and the bag of presents.
When the door opened, his eyes widened at seeing his sister for the first time in many years.
"Claire," Brian said quietly.
Instead of a warm welcome, she glared at him. "Oh, you remembered your family! Fine time you chose to visit."
Brian silently wondered what he'd expected when he decided to drop by. He should have known nothing would have changed in his dysfunctional family, though he'd thought Claire was nicer than their parents. Apparently, she'd changed a lot too.
Gone was the girl who let him hide in her room when Jack came home drunk late at night, who used to comfort him after his father's beatings, who tried to be kind toward him unlike their parents.
When she turned to head back inside, leaving the door open for him to follow, Brian noticed her protruding belly.
Maybe that was a good start for a normal conversation. "So you're pregnant? Did you get married, and the invitation got lost in the mail?"
She threw him a nasty look over his shoulder. "If you must know, Mother tried contacting you. This is my second." She patted her belly. "Mother wanted me married the second she heard I was pregnant, three years ago."
"Why, Claire," Brian smirked. "I didn't take you as that type."
His rather unkind joke was met with reproach from his mother who'd joined them in the hallway, hearing her son's voice.
"And what type is that? An easy woman? Your sister is very sorry for laying with a man before getting married. I'm surprised you haven't knocked up anyone yet."
"I'd be worried if that was the case," Brian said, laughing. He wasn't about to tell anyone he was gay. His mother was likely to tattooa cross on his forehead. "So, these are for you." He handed her the flowers. "I had no idea you'd be here, or that you had a kid, Claire," he added, somewhat sorrowfully.
After a moment of awkward silence, Brian cleared his throat. "So where's Pops? I have Mr. Daniels here, wanting to meet him."
"Exactly what Jack needs. More booze," Joan muttered. "And he's at that slimy bar. He's always there."
She left them in the hallway, going to place the flowers in water.
"Want to meet Johnny?" Claire asked, nudging Brian toward the living room. "Larry, my husband," she said in introduction, pointing to the man sitting on the couch, watching TV. "Larry, this is my brother, Brian."
The unkempt man with unwashed hair raised two fingers to Brian in salute. "'sup, man?"
Brian sketched a smile that barely even stretched his lips, nodding.
"And little Johnny," Claire added, showing her brother her son, who was sitting next to the small tree in the corner of the room. The boy looked up when he heard his name. "Come here, honey. Meet your uncle."
Brian had never been a fan of kids. They were loud and whiny. It was enough that he had to endure his best friend's whining when he didn't get his way; he didn't need to surround himself with brats.
He figured it was his duty as an uncle, though, to be nice to his sister's kid. "Hi, there. I'm Brian." He crouched to the kid's level.
Johnny eyed his mommy before looking at the strange man.
"What do you say?" Claire prompted him.
"Hi, Uncle Brian," he said slowly, trying to pronounce the words correctly.
"How old is he?" Brian caught Claire's eye.
Johnny thrust five stretched fingers in front of Brian. "Two an' a 'alf."
Brian laughed. "Nice. Well, Merry Christmas, Johnny."
The little boy grinned.
Feeling bad for not knowing about his nephew's existence, Brian dug in his coat for some candy he'd snagged from the reception desk at the office. When he gave the kid a small piece, Claire snatched it away.
"He's too young, you idiot!"
"I want!" Johnny whined, keeping his eyes on the sweet in his mommy's hand.
"No, you're much too young."
Before the kid could go in a full-blown tantrum, Larry came to the rescue, distracting him with one of his toys.
Brian decided it was time to leave. He pulled his wallet out, ignoring Claire and Joan's gasps at the number of bills he had in there. He extracted a couple fifties, handing them to Claire.
"Here, get that kid something nice from me. I'll go see Pops."
On the way to the bar, it started snowing. Brian burrowed into his winter coat, hurrying his pace.
From the second he stepped into the ratty place, he wanted to vomit. It smelled like cheap cigarettes and lost hope. There were some scarcely-dressed women trying to get the old men's attention, but they were too focused on their card games and drinking to notice them.
Brian scanned the room a few times before he noticed his old man at the bar. His body shook as he approached. All his instincts told him to run away and never look back, but a rational part of his brain convinced him to go closer to the bar and Jack.
He leaned against the bar next to his father. "Two whiskeys," he ordered.
Jack didn't seem to notice him, his focus on the money in his hands.
Brian covered his hands. "I'll get it. How much?"
Jack was surprised to see his son beside him. He hadn't seen or heard of Brian in years. "Sonny Boy! Long time, no see."
"Nothing has changed, apparently," Brian murmured. He accepted his glass of whiskey, pushing the other one toward his already-wasted dad.
Jack knocked his glass against Brian's, smiling. "So your ambition to succeed in the world came to an end, and you decided to drown your sorrows with your old man?"
"Actually, I got promoted. Only three months in Ryder's company, and I'm anaccount manager."
"Now you only need to keep your nose clean and be careful not to knock up one of your ladies. The second that happens, you'll be a ruined man, Sonny Boy."
"Don't worry about that."
"So this fancy job of yours...it pays well?"
"I'm comfortable. I found a place above an old warehouse. I'm working on renovating and decorating."
A few rounds later, Jack elbowed Brian in the ribs. "You've grown up so much. You must be quite the ladies' man. I sure had my groove until I knocked your mother up."
Brian thought back on the previous night and all three tricks he'd taken to the backroom of Babylon. "Can't complain."
"Never let anyone tie you down. Don't make my mistake. You'll be miserable. We're not meant to be tied down." Jack downed his glass, waving at the bartender to pour him another. "Mark my words, Sonny Boy. We Kinneys are free souls. Don't knock up some chick and ruin your life."
Brian scowled at his dad's narrow-minded thinking. "I'll keep that in mind, Pops."
"I see you at least drink like a Kinney. I had my worries about you, back in the day."
"What's that supposed to mean? Of course, I drink. I learned from the best."
"Besides your love for soccer, you were never interested in any manly activities. I tried teaching you how to repair things around the house, but you'd always get injured."
Brian rolled his eyes. Power tools weren't his thing. He'd leave that to his friend, Lindsay, and her girlfriend, Melanie. The crazy lesbians loved power tools and getting dirty.
"Then you must be proud that your efforts were partly successful now that I'm working on my loft. I waxed the floors with Mikey. Of course, we got stuck in the corner because we didn't think to start from the other side, but we did it."
Jack laughed loudly. "So you're still friends with that kid? I thought you left that fairy behind you once high school ended."
Brian slammed his glass on the counter. "Michael is my friend, and if you want to ever see me again, you'd better not bad-mouth him!"
Jack raised his hands in defense. "I guess you're entitled to have whatever friends you want, as long as you don't bat for his team. You don't, do you, Sonny Boy? A Kinney would never deny a tight pussy and a pair of big tits."
Brian tried not to gag. "No, Pops. Tits rule," he said mechanically. That answer got him a slap on the shoulder and a proud smile.
They wasted the night away at the bar, getting ridiculously drunk. They stumbled into each other as Brian took his old man home. He got a reproachful look from his mother before she pulled Jack into the house and slammed the door into Brian's face.
He made his way to Mikey's apartment, which he shared with the biggest queen Brian had ever had the misfortune of meeting.
Brian pressed the doorbell and didn't lift his finger until the door was opened by a bleary-eyed Emmett.
"What's wrong with you?"
Brian pushed past him, heading into Michael's room. He found his friend sitting up on the bed and yawning.
"Did Santa bring you as a present?" Mikey laughed.
Anything witty Brian wanted to say was lost to the loud sob that escaped his lips. He crumpled on the bed next to Michael.
"Shit. Brian? What's wrong?" Michael wrapped his arms around his best friend, his senses being attacked by the smell of alcohol. "Are you drunk?"
Brian's wet eyes turned to meet Michael's in the dark room. "He's proud of my fancy job. He warned me not to get tied down or knock some chick up. He's proud of me inheriting the Kinney drinking skills."
"Did you see your dad?" Michael guessed in a small voice.
"That fucking asshole."
"Why would you go to see him?"
"I thought I'd see my family. It's Christmas, Mikey. Guess I don't really have a family. Claire's married and has one kid and one on the way. Mom's been drinking again. Pops is the same drunk we always knew."
"Come on, lie down. Try to get some sleep." Michael helped him under the blanket, stroking his hair.
Brian burrowed closer to Michael, sniffling. "He was surprised to hear I'm still friends with you. He called you a fairy. He asked if I was one, too."
"What did you tell him?" Michael whispered, rubbing a hand over his back.
"No, of course. He'll probably kill me if he finds out." Brian gulped loudly. "I gave him some money when he complained he was short."
"Do I want to know how much?"
"A couple hundred."
"Are you crazy? He doesn't deserve a rat's ass from you!"
"You'd give Deb money if she ever asked."
"That's different, Brian. Mom loves me and, besides, she'd never ask for money."
"I guess you're right, but that's your family. Mine is different," he mumbled, stuffing his face into the pillow to muffle the sobs.
.
.
.
"So what's the plan now?" Debbie asked as they were chasing the last pasta in the bowl.
"I have a few big accounts lined up. I'll focus on that," Brian explained.
"And when are you going to visit Sunshine?"
Brian caught her eye, shrugging.
"You plan on visiting him, right?"
"I don't know. I'll take it a day at a time."
"You know that my door is open any time you need someone to talk to," she said quietly, taking his hand.
Brian leaned his head against her shoulder. "Thank you, Ma."
"What about that wonderful kid of yours? You plan on visiting him?"
"What's with the twenty-one questions?"
"I don't want you to close up and isolate yourself because two of the people you love the most have moved to other cities."
"They're less than an hour away by plane. I'll visit Gus as much as I can. And Justin...well, I have no idea, Deb. I want him to make it out there, to become a huge fucking success. If we keep in touch...I'm afraid he'll return home and say 'fuck it' to New York."
"I know you're selfless and want the best for him, but this is not a situation where you have to think for his best. Think for both your best. I bet you already miss him, and I know you'll be miserable by the end of the week."
"My future sounds so bright," Brian mumbled.
I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did while writing it. Some of the past things are true since I based it on what I read in the pre-series books, and some (most of it) is my wild imagination.
There might be another chapter...or installment, and I will make this a mini-series. We shall see. Either way, stay tuned. Keep an eye on the fb groups.