Author: Maressa
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Brian is forced to deal with his feelings for Justin. Set immediately after episode 122.
Notes: This was the first fanfic that I ever wrote. The last episode had me so torn up, that I needed some way to pass the time until the new season began. I look forward to the feedback that I may receive, as I have read the reviews for some of the other stories on this site, and often they are funnier than the fic. Hopefully I won't get such negative reviews, but if I deserve them, send them my way.
They all crowded into the small hospital room. There were so many of them. Michael and Vic each held onto Debbie as the tears streamed down her face. Emmett and Ted looked sick from shock, and Melanie and Lindsey held each other blindly. And of course Justin was there, at least his body was, but the lack of color in the young face showed the truth. Justin Taylor was dead. Brian was there too, slumped in the corner where he had been since he had seen Justin's cold body. The doctors and nurses were kind but distant. They asked Debbie how they could contact Justin's parents, then asked everyone to please leave so they could attend to the body. They left with everyone in tears, except Brian, whose face was almost as white as Justin's had been. Melanie was so stunned that she couldn't make her usual comments about how uncaring Brian was. And it wasn't that at all. The truth was that Brian cared deeply. His pain raced through his body and made him feel sick. He was overcome by a grief too great for tears.
Michael took him back to the loft, and Brian went straight for a bottle of Jack Daniels. Michael tried to take it away, but Brian kept him at arms length.
"Jesus Brian! Is that really going to help things?" asked Michael
"Yes!" replied Brian shortly as he took a long swallow from the bottle.
"Drinking's not going to change anything. It's not going to bring him back." Michael said.
"What the fuck does it matter? At least I'll feel better for now." Brian retorted with a bitter laugh.
"Do what you want. I'm leaving. You'll be drunk soon, and I don't want to deal with it."
"Fine, go away. I don't care." And then as the door slammed shut "The only one who matters already did.
Brian thought that the alcohol would help him forget, at least for a little while. Instead, his memories of what happened became frighteningly clear. He remembered that kid coming up behind Justin, his own shouts, and the agony of waiting for an ambulance to arrive. He remembered the frantic work of the EMTs and the hollow voice of the doctor saying "I'm very sorry. We did everything we could." Brian clutched his head as if trying to squeeze all the horrible images out as he stumbled into the bedroom. He fell onto the bed, and there he sobbed till morning.
Brian wasn't sure how he made it through the next few days. After that first terrible night Brian picked himself up and went to work, trying to act as if nothing had happened. A shell fell over him, and he was able to work mechanically, while inside he thought only of Justin. His shell was a fragile one, much thinner than the shell Justin had slowly been breaking down, and it cracked easily outside the office. Each blonde guy on the street was like a punch in the stomach. Debbie's house, the diner, the clubs were all torturous with their memories, so he stayed away. The worst was the time he heard that song. It made him physically sick to remember how wonderful to dance with Justin in his arms that night. But the shell held until the funeral, though only one more blow was needed to destroy the shell and the person behind it.
It was rather fitting that on the day of the funeral the sky was gray, and a light rain was falling. Brian walked to the graveside slowly with his head bowed. His friends looked on with sympathy, but the reaction from Justin's family was rather different. Craig had to be restrained, as he lunged at Brian. He looked capable of murder, and Brian would have thanked him heartily if Craig had ripped him apart. Justin's mother was far worse, as she looked at him with pure hate.
"You!" she screamed "How can you have the nerve to come here today? You killed my baby!"
"Jen, honey…" began Debbie softly.
"It's true." continued the hysterical Jennifer "You're as guilty as if you had hit him yourself. If he hadn't met you he would be alive today."
"I. . . I loved him." Brian stammered.
"You only love yourself." Then she added with her voice full of venom "Why couldn't it be you who died? GET OUT YOU MURDERER!!"
Brian ran, ran to his car and drove away as fast as he could. His shell, the thing that kept him going, had shattered around him, and hot tears stung his eyes. Back at the loft, Brian tore through his things looking for Justin's drawing. Finally he found it in a drawer. He looked at it, admiring its quality, seeing for the first time the love that had gone into the picture. He kept the picture in one hand and started playing with himself with the other, slowly at first. He groaned, and his fist started flying faster.
"Justin! Justin!" he called as he climaxed, but Justin wasn't there. With the release everything became clear to Brian. He knew what he had to do. He went to the bathroom, and dug out all the pills he could find. He filled a glass of water, and took them all. With his back to the wall, Brian slid to the floor and waited for death to claim him. He thought it would be quick and peaceful, but instead he found himself thrashing in pain. A swirling gray fog clouded his vision. He tried to cry out, but no sound escaped his lips.
Suddenly, with a thud, he woke up. It took him a moment to realize where he was. The room was in semi- gloom, and the linoleum floor beneath him was cold. Then he remembered. He was at the hospital, in Justin's room as he lay in a coma. He was waiting for a change, any change. Being in this state of limbo was hell. Brian raised his head slowly, and was surprised to see Justin looking at him intently. Their eyes met, and a slow smile crept onto Brian's face.
Fin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Brian is forced to deal with his feelings for Justin. Set immediately after episode 122.
Notes: This was the first fanfic that I ever wrote. The last episode had me so torn up, that I needed some way to pass the time until the new season began. I look forward to the feedback that I may receive, as I have read the reviews for some of the other stories on this site, and often they are funnier than the fic. Hopefully I won't get such negative reviews, but if I deserve them, send them my way.
They all crowded into the small hospital room. There were so many of them. Michael and Vic each held onto Debbie as the tears streamed down her face. Emmett and Ted looked sick from shock, and Melanie and Lindsey held each other blindly. And of course Justin was there, at least his body was, but the lack of color in the young face showed the truth. Justin Taylor was dead. Brian was there too, slumped in the corner where he had been since he had seen Justin's cold body. The doctors and nurses were kind but distant. They asked Debbie how they could contact Justin's parents, then asked everyone to please leave so they could attend to the body. They left with everyone in tears, except Brian, whose face was almost as white as Justin's had been. Melanie was so stunned that she couldn't make her usual comments about how uncaring Brian was. And it wasn't that at all. The truth was that Brian cared deeply. His pain raced through his body and made him feel sick. He was overcome by a grief too great for tears.
Michael took him back to the loft, and Brian went straight for a bottle of Jack Daniels. Michael tried to take it away, but Brian kept him at arms length.
"Jesus Brian! Is that really going to help things?" asked Michael
"Yes!" replied Brian shortly as he took a long swallow from the bottle.
"Drinking's not going to change anything. It's not going to bring him back." Michael said.
"What the fuck does it matter? At least I'll feel better for now." Brian retorted with a bitter laugh.
"Do what you want. I'm leaving. You'll be drunk soon, and I don't want to deal with it."
"Fine, go away. I don't care." And then as the door slammed shut "The only one who matters already did.
Brian thought that the alcohol would help him forget, at least for a little while. Instead, his memories of what happened became frighteningly clear. He remembered that kid coming up behind Justin, his own shouts, and the agony of waiting for an ambulance to arrive. He remembered the frantic work of the EMTs and the hollow voice of the doctor saying "I'm very sorry. We did everything we could." Brian clutched his head as if trying to squeeze all the horrible images out as he stumbled into the bedroom. He fell onto the bed, and there he sobbed till morning.
Brian wasn't sure how he made it through the next few days. After that first terrible night Brian picked himself up and went to work, trying to act as if nothing had happened. A shell fell over him, and he was able to work mechanically, while inside he thought only of Justin. His shell was a fragile one, much thinner than the shell Justin had slowly been breaking down, and it cracked easily outside the office. Each blonde guy on the street was like a punch in the stomach. Debbie's house, the diner, the clubs were all torturous with their memories, so he stayed away. The worst was the time he heard that song. It made him physically sick to remember how wonderful to dance with Justin in his arms that night. But the shell held until the funeral, though only one more blow was needed to destroy the shell and the person behind it.
It was rather fitting that on the day of the funeral the sky was gray, and a light rain was falling. Brian walked to the graveside slowly with his head bowed. His friends looked on with sympathy, but the reaction from Justin's family was rather different. Craig had to be restrained, as he lunged at Brian. He looked capable of murder, and Brian would have thanked him heartily if Craig had ripped him apart. Justin's mother was far worse, as she looked at him with pure hate.
"You!" she screamed "How can you have the nerve to come here today? You killed my baby!"
"Jen, honey…" began Debbie softly.
"It's true." continued the hysterical Jennifer "You're as guilty as if you had hit him yourself. If he hadn't met you he would be alive today."
"I. . . I loved him." Brian stammered.
"You only love yourself." Then she added with her voice full of venom "Why couldn't it be you who died? GET OUT YOU MURDERER!!"
Brian ran, ran to his car and drove away as fast as he could. His shell, the thing that kept him going, had shattered around him, and hot tears stung his eyes. Back at the loft, Brian tore through his things looking for Justin's drawing. Finally he found it in a drawer. He looked at it, admiring its quality, seeing for the first time the love that had gone into the picture. He kept the picture in one hand and started playing with himself with the other, slowly at first. He groaned, and his fist started flying faster.
"Justin! Justin!" he called as he climaxed, but Justin wasn't there. With the release everything became clear to Brian. He knew what he had to do. He went to the bathroom, and dug out all the pills he could find. He filled a glass of water, and took them all. With his back to the wall, Brian slid to the floor and waited for death to claim him. He thought it would be quick and peaceful, but instead he found himself thrashing in pain. A swirling gray fog clouded his vision. He tried to cry out, but no sound escaped his lips.
Suddenly, with a thud, he woke up. It took him a moment to realize where he was. The room was in semi- gloom, and the linoleum floor beneath him was cold. Then he remembered. He was at the hospital, in Justin's room as he lay in a coma. He was waiting for a change, any change. Being in this state of limbo was hell. Brian raised his head slowly, and was surprised to see Justin looking at him intently. Their eyes met, and a slow smile crept onto Brian's face.
Fin