Title: Masks Within
Rating: PG-16
Fandom: QaF
Character: Brian, Justin
Genres: Angst, Briancenter, Drama, Drabble.
Timeline: Anything between S.1 & S.2 is fair game.
Spoilers: See above.
A/N: Once again, thanks to Sandra for editing this.
Can you believe it; she actually said she liked it. I own nothing in bold below.
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Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.
A mask is something to be placed on to hide away from the world, to be used to shield and become someone else but never to be something for you to conform into. It all started as a way to hide away the pain of his childhood from those around him. But it consumed him and became his persona, the walls once disposable and constructed of water easy to banish soon solidified into glass then stone till there was no telling where one started and the other began.
You can hide away, inside your perfect little world.
He may not have become what he dreamed of being but at least he wasn't his father and that alone allowed him to sleep at night. Never would he entertain the idea pf bringing a life into this world, more so fear then his 'stud' status coveted his idea of never reproducing. Fear of becoming his father, fear of actually wanting to become a parent and raise this child as his own. Him walking unsteadily around the room; her first words; his first play; her graduation. But in them growing up he in turn would have to mature, more chances to screw up.
Scratching at the walls you built around yourself.
So he failed to live, breathing sleeping and going through the motions of a person. For twenty-nine years he survived day to day, month to month, and year to year. Living the life that would make most single gay men cum in their pants. And all he wanted was a way out.
Take another look around you, you've seen better days. There's nothing here that you would ever miss.
It was over; the life in the limelight was starting to burn. Melting away the flesh and muscle till only the bone remained, gleaming white in the setting sun of an era. The drinking and steady availability enabled him to not have to jack off, a plus to this life style. Unfortunately the steady diet of 'unprescripted' drugs was always dangerous and one of the most pathetic things would be to end up as an 'over the hill' party boy. But the opinion of retreating into a model home, an empty shell that though pretty to look at, it was incapable of actually living in didn't appeal to him. The loft serving as more of a hotel room then living quarter, no life lived in its walls. Brian A. Kinney's entire day was a routine of dancing, getting wasted and living life in the fast line. But it never filled the void; he was outside, watching his life.
You sit around a lonely picture in a world that doesn't fit you. You're crashing into everything.
Then came along in all his blazing innocent glory unwilling to waver for even a moment in the path of what he wanted; no dancing around the truth or trying the sugar coat it by thinking that he couldn't take it. Unashamed to ask to be held at the end of a hard day, even more shocking was that Brian wanted to be the one to hold him when the nightmares hit, sooth his sobs and rejoice in his successes. The man who would come home to his Sunshine and have the blond come home to him, the only one for in for the rest of his life. His heart knew this, but his consciences had a hard time dealing with the change.
I take your whole existence and bury it deep inside of me; beaten to the ground. You changed my world; my life.
There were things in his life he wasn't proud of. Actions and reactions to circumstances he wished he had the power to go back and alter, but the way he treated his lover; yes lover; he was outright ashamed off. The years of verbal and emotional abuse weighted against his 'caring' and consideration did nothing to sooth the anguish populating inside of him. The once clean bathroom counter now cluttered with Lexipro and Lunesta; Prozac and Metatonim. While the fridge was full of water and Beam, the poppers so old they looked seemly furry. Unable to actually recall the last time he had food in his stomach, much less a decent meal the urge to take care of himself all but vacated. His time now spent running on the treadmill pushing nearly 10 miles a day, sometimes until his body rejected itself and blood stained the cavern of his mouth and painted a coat on the interior of his toilet bowl.
It was a matter of time before the world unraveled at the seams as routine continued hours of the mundane bled from the pores as the screams of the silent in the empty space when his heart bound with another… The last thing he remembered was a blissful moment of nothingness, lightness of breath and the echoing of his own heart, fast and quickened drumming a tattoo against his ear drums before the color bled and all was reduced to white eternity.
Time was of no relevance, a frozen sun, burning ocean and snow that felt like flame as it brushed against the sensitive nerves sewn into exposed flesh.
Ticking of a clock was the first thing that registered as the pieces took their time assembling themselves in his mind like mismatched puzzle pieces attempting to create a image out of nothing. The colors blurred and lines fuzzy; jagged, an impressionist field day.
Weight pressing down on his side, clutching pressure on a limp lib where he was almost certain there would be purple evidence of the visitor. The figure he was sure would be topped with dark brown, imagine his surprise when instead it was gold and with eyes blue and clear like the desert sky.
And a smile of sunshine.
"…"
"So he lives..."
"…Justin."
"Welcome back Brian."
"…"
"You almost didn't make it."
"Not without you."