Title: Inmates (1/?)
Rating: M
Pairing: Neil/Brian
Warnings: Mentions of child molestation and rape, angst, hurt/comfort. Remember to look after yourself. Please stop reading if it triggers you.
Note: Based on the canon of the movie; not the book. Set post-movie. Feedback is all kinds of motivational love.
Summary: In the prison of the mind, could it be possible to heal?
When Brian checks himself into therapy, Neil avoids him for a while. He thinks he's stupid, weak and cowardly, and a whole lot of other invectives he saves for when he's in Eric's presence. At the same time, he wonders what Brian talks about in those sessions, and wonders why he doesn't feel the same need to spill his guts about it.
But then, it's almost like he can't talk about it at all. With anyone. Except that time with Brian, Christmas Eve, when he hurt all over and just wished the intermittent bleeding from his ass would stop. That was awful. He didn't know anyone could shake like that. It scared him, and after that, shit, he wasn't going to go look for reasons to talk about it again.
After all, most of it was his fault anyway.
The day Brian comes to him, in his room, Neil just watches him. He's been clean of fucking johns for some time now, and feels pretty aimless. He couldn't go back to New York, and Wendy seemed to understand. He didn't though. Not really.
'What the fuck do you want?' He says, deadpan, and Brian shuffles a bit, flustered. He moves his glasses up his nose, and combs his hair down a bit. Neil realises when he does that, he can't see his eyes properly.
'You've had sex.' Brian says, and Neil nods a few times.
'I haven't.' Brian says.
'So?'
'With anyone. I haven't been able to. Haven't wanted to.'
'And?' Neil is deliberately making this hard for him. He doesn't know why. God knows the kid has been through enough. Brian glares at him, he puts his diary that he still takes everywhere into his bag, and then folds his arms defensively.
'I don't get why so many people w-worship you.'
'Me either.' Neil says, with a smirk. He is 20 now, Brian is 19, Neil tells himself that he needs to stop thinking of him as a kid. It's not right.
'I've never...' Brian trails off then, he wipes at his nose and checks the back of his hand, and Neil gets it then. Brian's going to say something that's really hard for him to say. Neil stands up abruptly and walks to his bedroom window, places his hands behind his head, tries not to pay any heed to the fears coiling up in his gut. You never know with Brian. Little shit.
'I've never um, jacked off before.' His mouth is awkward around the words, and Neil looks at him sidelong, once, before looking back out the window. He's shocked.
'What. Ever?'
'Ever. No.'
'The shrink put you up to this shit?'
'No. I just don't get why you get to be the one who gets to...do what you do with people, and I'm stuck like this.'
'You want what, tips or something? You're not even queer.'
'How would I know?' Brian says then, starting to pick up some of the things on Neil's table. Worn baseball cards, old pens, a postcard from Wendy. Neil watches him for a minute and then feels frustrated and cornered. He walks forward and grabs Brian hard by the wrist, hard enough that Brian winces, and then they just look at each other. Neil lets go as if burned.
'Sorry, man.' Neil says, feeling really sick now, like he's going to throw up.
'You need help, Neil. It wasn't your fault.' Brian said, and Neil feels himself jerk, all over. Like he's just been hit. He turns slowly, angry and running his hand down his face.
'Shit.' He says, and then walks out of his own room, his own house. Anything to get away from this kid who looks like a fucking pushover, but is probably stronger than he ever will be.
Two weeks pass, and Neil is really shaken up. He is having his own nightmares now, which make him punch the pillow in anger. He loved Coach, loved him. This shouldn't be happening. His brain and body were betraying him. And sometimes he had nightmares about his last john, and that was even worse. Because man, he thought he was going to die that night. And sometimes when he wakes up, aching from phantom pains, missing the Coach, hating the whole fucked up world, he wishes that he had.
Eric tells him that Brian might actually be queer after all, and Neil scoffs at him, but thinks about it later. He thinks about it a lot.
He tries to imagine a life where he's never jacked himself off, and he just can't. He tells Eric about it, and Eric laughs in disbelief, and then looks all concerned and worried.
'What did that guy do to you both?' He says, and Neil almost hits him. Almost, except that now he's starting to wonder the same thing.
Brian comes back to his house. Back to his room. Neil lets him in because his Mom is out. He walks into his room without looking back. He thinks 'here we go again.'
'How many times did Coach do what he did to you?' The first words out of Brian's mouth, and Neil turns to him, wide-eyed and feeling betrayed by this. This gentle kid who looked like he could be blown over with one breeze. And he's standing there with this look on his face. Determination. Whatever.
'That summer.' Neil says, feeling expansive. Generous. For even offering that much.
'How many times?'
'I don't fucking know, do I? More than twice. More than what you got. I told you. I was his...' He trails off, he doesn't know if he can say it this time.
'Prize. You were his prize.' Brian says, with a gentleness that has Neil turning away and pressing a fist briefly into his stomach. Brian is like poison, coming here, doing this. Neil thinks 'I'm going to kick him out, boot his ass,' but he doesn't. He just stands, fist to his stomach, breathing. Breathing.
'It's not as easy for you as you make it out, I get that now.' Brian says then, his voice neutral. 'I didn't like you for a little while. For about a month. After that Christmas. I couldn't... I didn't understand. And I was humiliated. No one's ever seen me like that. I hide that pretty well.'
'Even the shrink?'
Brian says nothing, and Neil takes that to mean that he's the only one who's witnessed those violent tremors, the writhing muscles trying to burst out of his skin, the backbone of steel that lurked in all the fear, that got them out of the house. That helped Neil out of the window the second time, because he was too dazed to even remember how to get out.
'I really don't like you.' Neil says then, though there's no passion behind the words. And he looks at Brian, who is nodding, with understanding. That's even worse, Neil thinks.
'I know. I remind you of it. I don't let you forget. I won't.' He said then, with a firmness that was surprising. 'I'm not going to let you think that p-person loved you for you. Any love he had was for your body, and your vulnerability, and the fact that your parents were never home to protect you. And that you were so desperate for someone to pay any attention to you, that you-'
Neil hit him. It wasn't even a punch. It was an open slap. It wasn't even that hard. Brian steadied himself on Neil's table, and then had the audacity to smile at him. And then he left.
Neil was left dazed again. Floored. He had no idea what to do. For the rest of the week, he had no idea.
Another two weeks. This time Neil was smart enough not to let him in. He stood in the doorway and just shook his head.
'No way.' He said, and Brian just pushed him backwards, two hands on his sternum. He didn't even push that hard. And Neil just went with it, out of the way, pliant. Brian walked in with his stupid backpack, his stupid diary, and sat in the lounge like he belonged there just as much as Neil did.
'If you fucking talk about that summer, I swear I'll...' Neil can't finish the sentence, he has no idea what he'll do, actually. He's already hit the geek, after all, and that did nothing. Brian shakes his head, and pulls out a DVD. It's one of those b-grade horrors that Eric likes. And Neil realises the eyeliner bandit has struck again. Won someone else over with his charms. For a moment he even experiences jealousy, because he knows Eric and Brian as a duo probably get along better than Eric and Neil ever did.
Neil sits down on the sofa. As far away from Brian as possible. It wasn't very nonchalant, but he's had all the stress he can take this week. Brian puts in the DVD, he's familiar with the remote and everything. Takes charge like it's his own home. And then he pulls out two chocolate bars and hands one to Neil. Neil takes it and puts it down on the coffee table. Confused.
They watch the movie, and he actually starts to get into it. They laugh at the awful special effects, and at one point they go from yelling at the screen in unison, to falling back on the couch together. It's actually kind of companionable. Neil gets into that too. They have a good time.
Afterwards, Brian looks at his watch and then says he has to get home. And like that, he leaves.
Neil realises that they barely said more than two sentences to each other.
A significant amount of time passes, and then Neil shocks himself when he asks Eric where Brian lives. And then actually asks Eric to drop him off. Eric is shocked too. And then amused, and even laughs at him and jokes about how Neil has a crush and everything. Neil doesn't know what to say to that, so Eric, surprised, says;
'Do you?'
'Are you kidding?' Neil says.
'Yeah, that's what I thought.' Eric says, but his expression as he's driving Neil to Brian's, is not so sure. It doesn't end up mattering, Brian isn't home, and Neil – on the drive home, absently joking with Eric – feels strangely disappointed.
'Eric thinks you have a crush on me.' The first words out of the blonde geek's mouth as he walks in the door, DVDs and chocolate in hand, scruffy backpack, the diary. Neil just watches; wary, a little scared. This is alien territory to him. He has no idea what Brian is going to say next.
'Hey, I'm sorry I hit you. Like. Ages ago.'
'I was expecting worse!' Brian laughed, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Neil blinked. 'So do you have a crush on me?'
'Not my type.' Neil mutters, and Brian's expression sobers.
'Do you even know what your type would be, I mean, if you didn't model all of the guys you were attracted to on your one, lost love?'
'Fuck you.' Neil says, and Brian shrugs.
'Therapy could help you, you know.'
'Like I need it.'
'Yeah. Because it's so normal for kids to fist their baseball coaches.'
'Jesus,' Neil says, suddenly cold, 'do you ever shut up!' He can hear his breathing. That disturbs him. He tries to make himself calm down. He clenches his fists and he turns away and tries to go to that blank place that used to be such a good friend of his.
He jerks when he feels a hand placed on his shoulder. That all over body jerk again. Brian is close behind him, but doesn't do anything more than that hand. It's tentative, light, no full weight behind it. And then a brief squeeze before he lets go and goes back to his DVDs, sorting through them and then holding one up.
'This one?' He says. And Neil just stares at him.
'Why the fuck are you doing this to me?' Neil says, and Brian puts the DVD down and sighs. He is staring through the DVD cover. When he looks up, his face is grim and sad all at the same time.
'I don't know. Because I'm not normal?'
'But why me?'
'You were there, weren't you? Telling me to say I liked it. Not really liking it yourself.'
'I don't know why I keep letting you in,' Neil said then. 'Some fucking kid who hasn't even jacked himself off. I mean come on, what's with that? You don't have to think about anything while you do it. If that's the problem. Just...'
'Do what you do? Pretend it's not happening? Think of the Coach and pretend it's him instead? Pretend like you liked it?'
'I did like it.' Neil said, cocky, and had a moment to wonder what calm thing Brian would say, only to find himself violently shoved backwards into the wall. He had a moment to think, stronger than I thought, before;
'You LIAR! I get that you liked some of it, you probably had to say that to yourself to survive it. But you didn't really like it. No one's ever fucked you who wasn't using you for something, have they? You have no idea what you like. You idiot!' Another shove for good measure, and Neil accidentally bit his tongue. He launched himself away, to go to his room, but Brian grabbed his sleeve and wouldn't let go.
'Christ!' Neil shouted, yanking his arm back to his own body. 'You're not my goddamned shrink. Why are you doing this to me?'
Brian placed both of his hands over his face. It was a surprisingly vulnerable gesture. Neil was disarmed.
'Maybe I do have a crush on you.' He said then. Weakly. His voice muffled in his palms. Neil was surprised. He really didn't know what to expect with this kid.
'I bet your shrink has something to say about that.' Neil said, still jarred from how violently he'd been pushed against the wall.
'He does. I don't care. He's never been through what we have. He doesn't know.'
'You can't like me because of that summer.' Neil said flatly.
'I don't.' Brian said, lowering his hands. 'I like you because you're...because you were honest with me, because you can be funny and wry, because I think you look...fairly okay. Okay?'
'Right.' Neil said, swallowing. 'What if I don't like you?'
'I think I can handle that.' Brian said calmly, and then offered his own small smile. The smile that made him look young and old at the same time.
'Right.' Neil said again.
The rest of the afternoon they watched DVDs together, and didn't talk about it again.
'What's the point in having a crush if you can't have sex?' Neil said, after a shot of vodka, a month later. They were sitting on Neil's bed, it was late and his Mom was doing a night shift, and they'd had macaroni and cheese that Brian had made. They'd even saved enough for his Mom for dinner. Neil thought that was pretty alright.
Brian was pouring himself another shot, and then took a swig out of the bottle instead. Neil thought, Eric really has corrupted him.
'I don't know. Is there a point in having a crush at all?' Brian said, filling both their shot glasses generously.
'But I can't do anything with you. Can I?' Neil said, and Brian looked at him, already his eyes were wide with fear. 'There, see?' Neil said, shaking his hand. 'Just the idea of it has you looking at me like that.'
'No.' Brian said in frustration. 'I mean yes. It scares me. But that doesn't mean I don't want to try.'
'Freak.' Neil said good-naturedly, and then had another shot of vodka. He was starting to feel it now. He missed this. It occurred to him that he might want to get some kind of job that paid more than making burgers, so he could afford this kind of stuff, instead of depending on others all the time. But he had no idea what he could possibly do with his life. He still felt so aimless.
'Takes one to know one,' Brian said, using a phrase so old that Neil laughed.
When Brian took his glasses off and looked at the world without them, Neil saw more of his face. The square jaw, the large blue eyes that were usually lost behind glass and reflections. The way his hair actually kind of framed his face. He certainly wasn't awful to look at.
'You need different glasses, man.' Neil said, then. And Brian smiled a little.
'You think so?'
'Yeah.'
'Okay.' He said.
'I don't hate you.' Neil said suddenly.
'I know.' Brian said, putting his glasses back on and lying down so that his head was resting on Neil's shins. Neil couldn't help it, he hadn't touched someone in so long, and he remembered the feeling of Brian's hair in his fingers. He lowered his hand and stroked, idly. Brian froze, even that much gentle contact had him on edge.
'Calm down.' Neil said, absently, moving his second hand to do the same thing.
'But you don't like me.'
'Touch doesn't always have to be about true love.' Neil said then, feeling warmth and scalp and hair underneath his fingers. And that's all he did. Over and over again. Eventually he felt Brian's shoulders relax, and felt inexplicably happy about that. He did it until Brian fell asleep against him, and then put the shot glasses on his table and leaned against the wall and fell asleep hunched so that he was still supporting Brian with his legs, with two hands in his hair.
He woke up, Brian still asleep and pliant, though they'd shifted throughout the night. Neil was now lying flat on his bed, head against the pillow, and Brian at some point had shifted so that his head was resting on Neil's thighs. Neil ignored his boner he generally got in the morning, and looked instead at the blonde tufts of hair.
He eased up to take a piss, grateful that he didn't have a hangover, and when he returned, Brian was looking at him sleepily; glasses folded beside him on the bed. Neil found himself feeling unexpectedly tender. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and rested his hand on Brian's head, curling his fingers gently. Brian tensed and licked his lips at the same time.
'Mornin'.' Neil said, softly, and Brian placed a hand on Neil's knee. Again the pressure was light, almost not touching, like when he'd placed a hand on Neil's shoulder. Neil used his other hand and pressed Brian's down.
'I'm not made of glass.' Neil said. 'I'm not going to fucking break.'
'I might.' Brian said, a quaver in his voice, a breathlessness that spoke of real fear. Neil moved his hands away reluctantly, and Brian closed his eyes. 'But don't do that. Please.'
Neil returned his hands. And looked down at this person who was fast becoming a good friend. Maybe something more.
'Okay. Like this?' Neil said, fingers carding through the blonde hair again. The other hand threading fingers through the pale hand resting on his knee. Brian nodded, once, a jerky movement. Neil nodded too, and looked down the tense line of Brian's body and shook his head. He could not be in this situation and not be reminded of the past. It was awful. And he couldn't draw away if he tried.
'It's...hard for me.' Brian said shakily, even as his fingers brushed up against Neil's.
'Yeah.' Neil said, smiling. 'I get that.'
'Don't make fun of me.' Brian said, defensive, his legs curling up into his body, and Neil frowned.
'I'm not.' He said.
'Okay.' Brian said. But he sounded doubtful.
'I'm not.' Neil said again, moving his fingers so that they were now gently stroking the back of Brian's neck. The smaller lengths of hair there, the heat that was warming his hand. Brian's breath hitched, but he didn't move.
'Is this okay?' Neil said, as he applied a bit more pressure, massaging more than seducing, feeling taut muscle and vertebrae against his hand. Brian nodded, and then clenched his fingers on Brian's hand suddenly, as though hanging on for dear life. 'It's okay.' Neil said again, feeling like he was with some wild animal, like that stray dog he had befriended when he was ten at the park. 'I'm not hurting you.' He added, just in case Brian couldn't tell.
'Okay.' Brian said, very softly, and Neil pressed his lips together and just massaged. Eventually the muscles relaxed, the hand holding his own went limp and Neil wondered if he'd fallen asleep again. He was getting bored now, and let his fingers slow to a stop.
Silence, breathing, the sound a car driving by outside. And then Neil watched as the fingers entwined with his disengaged, and then Brian sat up, tentatively smoothing his hair and looking bewildered and dazed.
'Was that...how was that?' Neil said, awkwardly.
Brian just looked at him, mute, as though all the speech had been taken from him. Neil felt his breathing quicken.
'Don't freak out.' Neil said, swallowing and shifting on the bed so that he could get a better look at Brian's face. 'Don't freak out. Come on, that wasn't fucking worth bleeding all down your face, was it?'
Brian laughed a little then, though he still looked very pale.
'Jesus. Shit.' Neil said, shaking his head. 'You're okay, right?'
'I think so.'
'Thank fuck. Well... Brian, that's the most action I've had in months. Hope you appreciate it.' He said wryly, 'and don't bleed on my bed or anything.'
Brian laughed, and Neil laughed a moment later, he couldn't help it.
They spent the morning walking around the streets, Neil keeping a surreptitious eye on Brian's nose, the paleness of his face. And Brian seeming content to talk about Neil's johns, where he grew up, and how much he hated his Dad.
A week later found them in front of the TV, watching a DVD, Neil's Mom out on a night-shift, and Eric working on some assignment. They had vodka, and chocolate, and crisps, and it was as casual as it could ever be when Brian was in the room.
Halfway through the second movie, Brian rested his head on Neil's thigh, and Neil got up before he even knew why. Jerking away. Brian looked up, shocked.
'Sorry.' Neil said. 'Sorry. It's not you.'
Though it was. It was remembering Brian lowering his head on his thigh at Coach's house. It was remembering the shaking and the tremors and the blood and the feeling that nothing would ever be alright again. It was saying 'shhh' over and over and over, as though he was saying it as much to himself as to the boy he held. It was a lot of things. He couldn't handle it.
'Hey.' Brian was saying. 'Talk to me.'
'I just can't do it that way.' He was saying, he could barely hear himself and he couldn't hear the movie at all. And then he realised that Brian had paused it, was standing, facing him, ducking his head to look at him, to see.
Neil turned away, swearing.
'Come sit down again,' Brian again, gesturing to the couch and then reaching out to grasp Neil's sleeve. Neil turned quickly, grasped him back with anger, and then was crushing his lips to Brian's, pressing hard against the softness, yanking Brian into him.
Brian ricocheted backwards as though he'd been thrown, and then he was leaning over the table, gasping, more fear than anything else.
'Is that what you want?' Neil said, hating the way his voice broke, hating everything in that moment. 'Is that it? I can give that to you, but you won't like it. Look at you, fucking fall down mess is what you are. Jesus.' He leaned against the wall, pretending that he was fine. Brian turned to look at up him, still bracing himself on the table.
'Is that how you deal with your shit? You put it on someone else? That's...not very mature.' He said, and then straightened, rubbed his lips. He looked angry, confused, concerned. Neil looked past him, at nothing. Blank place, he reminded himself.
'Come sit down and watch the rest of the movie with me,' Brian said, angrily, and then sat down and unpaused the movie without waiting to see what Neil would do.
Five minutes later Neil joined him, again sitting far away from him on the couch, vulnerable and alien in his own home. When Brian left that evening, Neil wanted to apologise, but found all the words he had to say had turned to lead on his tongue.
