Okay - so these two songs just SCREAMED post 5.13 Brian and Justin and I couldn't resist anymore. The lyrics will be posted as a second chapter if you're interested - though I know when I read song fics I tend to ignore the lyrics and just read the story! =D Coz I'm bad like that. I know song fics are sometimes considered to be a bit … you know. But I'm not against them and like I said, I write what I want to *angle face*.
Warning: Brian Kinney's probably a bit OOC - but I've based him on the last three episodes and, as we all know, he turned into a right soppy sod by then. All love and romance and … (excuse me while I barf) marriage! BORING!
D/C: QAF does not belong to me. Neither do Babylon Bombs or Nickelback. All three of these things are disappointing!
Justin peered out the window of his crummy New York apartment. It was a shit-hole really, one step up from the streets but since Daphne's friend had decided she wanted to move in with her boyfriend, Justin had been forced to make other arraignments and this was it. There were drug deals throughout the apartment building, prostitution, gambling, all kinds of debauchery and although sometimes living near debauchery is thrilling, it's really not the same when you can barely escape it. But this was the best he could afford on the money he was making though he hoped that was all about to change.
The worst thing about the apartment, Justin knew, was how much it reminded him of Ethan's place. It had the same 'bohemian/ I-can't-afford-a-decent-sofa' look to it and for what it was, it was extortionate. The best thing about the apartment was the view, right across New York city. He could see the headlights of the cars dancing through the streets like reflections of the stars above. He could see the people during the day living their lives. He could see the flashing boards of advertising and then he always thought of Brian. He could imagine Brian in New York, he'd probably have turned Time Square into a war zone of who can be the most outrageously funny or sexy or both with their adverts. He probably wouldn't rest until the coca-cola advert had been replaced by a fag in skimpy Speedo's winking as he held a cola bottle, with the tag-line 'got coke?' underneath it.
Justin smiled to himself, Brian Kinney in New York. He'd fucking love it but every time he asked him to fly out, Brian always had something important anchoring him in Pittsburgh. But Justin was not one to give up easily. He kept begging until eventually, Brian broke down. It was a Friday morning when Justin got the call. He answered it, careful not to get paint on everything.
"Hello."
"Guess where I am?" was the reply.
"What?"
"Guess where I am?" Brian insisted.
Justin look at the clock on his CD player, 9.30. That meant he could only be in one place.
"Kinnetic."
"Wrong."
"What?"
"I'm at the airport."
"What? Why?"
"Wrong question, ask me which airport?"
Justin just frowned. Brian was acting strange, like a kid with a secret but who won't just offer the information but the younger man decided to play along.
"Fine," he sighed. "Which airport?"
"JFK," was the pleased response.
"What? What are you doing there?"
"Business - I've got to talk with Brown Athletics this morning so I thought I'd spend the weekend in the city that never sleeps. There's just one problem."
"Oh? what's that?"
"I didn't book a hotel."
"Oh, well then where will you stay?" Justin teased.
"Can't imagine," Brian joined.
"Well," Justin said, dropping his voice a little, "I guess you could stay at mine but I have to warn you, sleeping is not allowed."
"I wasn't planning on doing much sleeping."
--
It was forty-eight hours before either of them suggested leaving Justin's flat. Brian hadn't even mentioned how horrible it was; he'd just said 'nice place' in a way that was probably sarcastic and then mouths had been put to better use than something as trivial as words. But, into the afternoon on the Sunday, Justin insisted he show Brian the sights.
"I've already seen the sights I came for," Brian smirked. "And I do mean came for."
Justin grinned a little before pulling Brian to his feet and commanding he put clothes on.
"Okay," Brian conceded, "but I really need a shower and you better come with me, there's some places I just can't reach my myself."
It was another hour before they finally left. They were strolling down the Boulevard, close enough so that they were almost touching but not so close they'd turned into one of those disgusting lovey-dovey couples you see, like Ted and Blake, who don't seem to be able to walk five yards without saying something spew-worthy or at least touching inappropriately. Inappropriately in the eyes of Brian, of course, meaning hand holding or kisses to the cheek.
They were about half way to the first (and only) stop on Justin's 'tour' when Brian said bluntly;
"People are fucking miserable in New York."
"Yeah, well that's because as well as being the city of dreams, it's the city of people who failed to fulfil dreams; lost souls and broken hearts."
Brian looked at the man next to him with a raised eyebrow.
"What?"
"When did you start talking like a pretentious artist?"
"Since this," Justin grinned, pointing behind Brian. The older man turned around and found himself facing a modern looking art gallery. In the window, on very professional boards, were the words; "For One Weekend Only, The Sunny Hayfield Gallery Is Proud To Be Displaying The Work Of Justin Taylor."
"Shit," Brian breathed. "Why didn't you say anything? You should have been here."
"I had better things to do," Justin grinned. "Come on," he grabbed Brian's arm and dragged him into the Gallery.
"There were more paintings before," Justin was explaining. "I've sold a few."
"A few?" Brian questioned, looking around at painting after painting with the word 'sold' across them in fact these paintings seemed broken up only by the spaces where paintings used to be. And then, his eyes fell on a painting at the end of the room. He wasn't entirely sure what it was meant to be. It was one of Justin's more abstract painting's but Brian felt it spoke to him somehow.
"What's this one?" he asked, walking over to it. It was all reds and golds, perfect swirls and beautiful definition. It seemed to reflect good and bad, love and heart-break, achievement and loss all at the same time. It said everything."I call it Proud," Justin said, he was somewhat sheepish now, quiet, not quite so sure of himself. "What do you think?""Why do you want my opinion?" Brian asked, "what do the critics think?"
Justin was quiet for a second before whispering, like an admission of something embarrassing, "they say it's the best work I've ever done."
"Really?"
"Mm-hmm," Justin continued. "They say that it shows the maturity of a man twice my age, a man who has experienced all the highs and lows of life. Joy, sadness, pain, healing, sex, love and," he swallowed uncertainly, "heartbreak."
Brian finally took his eyes away from the painting and looked at the younger man. Justin was clearly waiting for some input and Brian looked at the nervousness in the blue eyes and he had a strange feeling his opinion meant more than any art critic's.
"It's exquisite; flawless, touching and beautiful," he said honestly. "Like you."
Justin beamed up at him and Brian turned back to the painting.
"So why hasn't it been sold?"
"Er, there's only one person I would want to have this painting," Justin said. "It's being shipped to Pittsburgh first thing tomorrow."
"Justin..." Brian began.
"Don't," the younger man warned. "I painted it for you. No one else was ever meant to have it. I want you to take it."
Brian just looked down at the younger man and nodded gently before kissing him deeply. When Brian pulled away, he was horrified to see that Justin had tears rolling silently down his cheek.
"Sorry," he half sobbed, half-chuckled as he wiped the tears away. "It's just. I'm sorry I left."
"Hey," Brian said sternly, tilting Justin's head upwards so the blonde was forced to stare into those hazel eyes. "It's okay," Brian promised.
"But all I ever wanted was to make you proud," Justin sniffed.
"You have Sunshine, you have."
--
It wasn't long before Brian was packing up to go home and it felt like their hearts were breaking all over again as they said anything but goodbye at the terminal. They both felt like the weekend seemed to have slipped away to nothing. Time was such an unfair thing. The days apart seemed to stretch on for a lifetime but the days together went by like the blink of an eye.
Brian couldn't help feel a gut-churning sadness as the plane took off. He didn't know when he would next see Justin and, despite what he had previously believed, he had no patience when it came to waiting to see the love of his life. But Justin was always there; on the phone, emailing, writing. And, when Brian would get back to the loft, he'd have a parcel waiting for him. Then he would have Justin with him forever, hanging on his wall as a constant reminder of what they had and what they had was special. So special, in fact, it was able to defeat time and distance itself.