Fandom: Queer as Folk
Title: The Four Letter Word
Characters: Brian and Justin
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating/Warnings: R for Strong language.
Summary: Justin comes to a realization. Told from his POV.
A/N: Thanks to anyone who reads!
Disclaimer: I don't own QAF or anything you recognize and I don't claim to. I make no money for writing this story.
Story banner found in my profile. (Thanks Eka!)
*The Four Letter Word*
Justin's POV:
I know Brian will never say it again. He doesn't have to, and I'm okay with that. He will never again say the four letter word, that I used to think wasso fucking important.
That's not the way that Brian works. He's more of an 'actions speak louder than words,' type of person, and I get it now. I didn't used to, but now I do.
It took me so long to finally figure that out. Brian has been telling me that he loves me, from the very beginning. I just never saw it for what it was.
While he won't come right out and say again, "I love you, Justin," I know by his actions, that he does. I know that it's hard for Brian to admit how he feels.
I know that he grew up in a shitty household, with a bitch for a mother, and an abusive asshole for a father. It's why Brian thinks that he's fucked up.
But he's not fucked up. Brian's wonderful. He's a loving father to Gus, a great friend to Michael, Ben, Lindsay, Melanie, Emmett, and Ted, and a wonderful lover to me.
Brian might not think so, but he is. I can tell sometimes, that he's scared. I think Brian's waiting for me to ask him to say the word again, the one thing that he can't give me.
He's waiting for me to beg again, for him to say that he loves me. Well, I won't. Not after everything that we have been through. Not after the fact that he's given more of himself to me, than to anyone else.
I can't ask Brian to put himself on the line again, and I won't. Not after knowing now, how much it cost him the first time he did it. How much it cost him to come to my Prom.
Now that I think about it, I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gotten bashed at my Prom. I have always wondered what might have happened, if he and I had gone home that night, and had sex like we planned.
Yeah, I know, living in the past is ridiculous, but sometimes I can't help myself. I can't help but wonder, if that night had turned out differently, if I hadn't gotten bashed in the head with a bat, by some homophobic asshole, would we be together?
I guess I'll never know, because that night was taken away from me in a single moment, by the crack of a bat against my head. Well, the important part of that night was taken from me. The pain is still there, it's always there.
It was the part where Brian and I danced, and were in love. I have a hard time believing it, when Daphne tells me about the emotions that Brian allowed himself to display on his face that night.
She says that his eyes were bright and alive, that he smiled the entire time, and that when we danced, it was like we were the only two in the universe.
I try to cling onto the little bit of hope it offers me, when she explains the Prom to me, for the millionth time. But I know that I will never be able to give back to Brian, the night he gave me, which I can no longer remember.
I know that, and it hurts. It hurts that I will never get to know just how happy Brian was that night. I will never be able to tell him how much it means to me that he even showed up.
I know that the bashing hurt not only me, but Brian as well. I think that night is when he finally realized that he loved me. It was also the night that he came close to losing me.
It's because of that night, that Brian will never again tell me he loves me. He's afraid that something else is going to happen, and I don't blame him. I can't.
I know that if things had turned out different, Brian would have told me he loved me earlier. He would have said the words that I have been dying to hear.
But they didn't, and he didn't. Brian won't tell me what he feels, because he's afraid of what will happen if he does. He thinks it'll give me some kind of power over him.
The thing he doesn't understand now, though, is that I no longer need them. I don't need picnics on the floor, flowers, music, or even the four letter word. I don't need all of that anymore, because when I look into his eyes, I can see for myself, how much he truly loves me.
The end.