Title: Curtains
Author: Velvetphile
E-Mail: Velvetphile@maxwelldemon.zzn.com
Rating: PG
Summary: Perhaps it was time, time to deal with the past . . . and with the dark, familiar figure which stood in front of Curt, so patiently waiting for the other shoe to drop. . .
Disclaimer: Nope, don't belong to me, they all belong to Todd Haynes and respective writers.
Timeline: Post VG
Author's Note: This is far from my first fanfic, it is however my first Velvet Goldmine fanfic. So please, feedback is worshipped right alongside my Jonathan Rhys Meyers pictures g
****
Dusk set in over New York City, golden sunlight glinting off of the highest towers and skyscrapers of the bright metropolitan. The sky split into a kaleidoscopic of rich hues as the sun sunk steadily beneath the treetops in the distance.
The last crimson ray of the sun touched upon a single man who sat in his darkened apartment, head bowed in thought. The shaft of light fell warm across his head and he glanced up at the glowing slit in the dark curtains which hung over his windowpane. He moved to push them aside, glancing out at the rapidly darkening streets below him and leaned heavily against the cool glass.
Below, in the growing shadows of the night, a figure stirred, moving lightly and rapidly over the gritty pavement. The dark figure attracted his attention for a moment, but then it was gone, disappeared into the twilight.
Curt Wild tilted his head to one side and studied the dwindling shadow as it moved down the slick streets with a vaguely familiar grace to his step. An oddly melancholy smirk graced his lips for a moment and then he turned away from the window, away from the bustling and chaotic world outside the glass.
He sank back into his chair and waited for the moment to come again.
****
A soft knock on the door roused Curt Wild from where he sat, deep in thought. He glanced up wearily, running slender fingers through his artificially golden hair which hung limp to his shoulders. He peered at the door in the dim light and sighed slightly. Pushing himself up out of the chair he stretched, the ebony faille of his shirt sliding gently up his stomach. He moved quietly across the plush carpeting, it's magenta color glowing softly in the dim light which seeped in from the curtained windows on one wall. Curt reached out and grasped the cold door handle and wrenched it open, the door slid open noiselessly on slick hinges.
A bright shaft of light from the hallway poured into the dark apartment, illuminating the dark figure who stood on the other side of the door. Curt squinted in the harsh brightness and stepped backwards into the gloom of his apartment, blinking rapidly. When the dazzling spots in front of his eyes had cleared, he recognized a familiar slender figure in the doorway. The man gazed at him expectantly for a long moment, sapphire eyes glittering as he leaned nochalantly against the frame of the door. Curt held his gaze for a long moment, the moment, it seemed, had come at last.
He stepped aside and let Brian Slade into his home.
Brian smiled tightly and brushed past him, gliding in as if he owned the place. He reached out and flicked on the lightswitch and as he passed Curt watched him in silence, allowing the door to swing shut with a barely audible click.
The room was flooded with a soft brilliance, glinting off of the opulent furniture and elegant furnishings. Brian swept his gaze around the room and whistled under his breath. He nodded slightly as if confirming something, and then turned, allowing his gaze to land on Curt, and remain there.
"Nice place." His soft words seemed hesitant and his tone carried that same lilting arrogance it always had, but his confidence was shaken and there seemed to be something in his voice which Curt was not used to. . . fear? Possibly, anxiety, likely. . . and yet still there were traces of emotion, emotion which Curt was not sure he was ready to deal with.
Or perhaps it was due time, time to deal with the past . . . and with him, the dark, familiar figure which stood in front of Curt, so patiently waiting for the other shoe to drop. . .
"Brian. . ." Curt's voice was hesitant and wary as he spoke. He found himself edging away, as if physical distance could heal the rift of time and words which hung between them.
"What are you doing here?"
Brian bit his lip gently and moved away from him, trailing his fingertips over the soft material of the couch in front of him, he moved into the light. Curt gasped softly as he viewed Brian for the first time in years. With makeup washed away and gaudy clothes reduced to a pair of black jeans and a silver tee shirt, all traces of Tommy Stone were washed away. The blue hair Curt remembered so fondly was not back, nor was the blonde which Brian had sported for the beginning of their relationship, rather his hair had been cut short and dyed a thick ebony. The delicate, almost feminine features of Brian Slade remained and Curt breathed in relief at the sight of the man in front of him, this was truly Brian at his most vulnerable. . . Brian startled Curt out of his observations with his soft response.
"I'm not sure," his tone was colored by the soft accent which had been suppressed for the past ten years. Brian moved again, past Curt, never meeting his prying eyes as he inspected the room. He stopped as he reached the window and fiddled with the edge of the curtain.
"That's not true actually," Brian seemed wracked with indecision and he turned to face Curt, who still stood in the center of the room, watching him. Their eyes met for a long moment and then Brian turned away again.
"A few days ago I was approached by a man at my concert," he flinched imperceptibly at the memory. "A reporter."
Curt frowned as the memory of a quiet, dark haired young man appeared in his mind. The man who had been doing a story on Brian. . .
"He knew, Curt." Brian shook his head, dark hair falling gently across his eyes and sat down heavily in a plush chair by the windows. "I don't know how, but he knew. . ." Brian pulled aside the curtain a bit and gazed out of the window, not meeting Curt's eyes as he sat in the chair opposite him. The two sat in silence for a long moment, gazes twined and neither dared to break the lock.
"Did you tell him?"
Curt frowned and narrowed his eyebrows. "Tell him what?" He cocked an eyebrow, struggling to retain long forgotten arrogance. "Tell him that the great Brian Slade had become everything that he had once despised?" his lip twisted cruelly and a long dead fire stirred inside his heart.
"Did I tell him that you had become Tommy Stone, the much idolized and fradulent pop star of the eighties?" Curt shook his head and scoffed. Brian broke the heavy gaze the two of them held and glanced down in what appeared to be shame as Curt continued.
"No, I didn't tell him. But I did see him, the night of the concert." Curt shrugged. "I didn't have to tell him, he seemed to have figured it out for himself." Curt bit the inside of his lip and flinched at his own sneering tone, but Brian seemed unaffected by it. He wrung his hands gently in his lap and appeared deep in thought. He began gnawing on his thumb again, a sure sign that something was wrong, Curt knew from experience.
"What did he say to you anyway?" Brian glanced away running slender fingers through his dark hair and Curt noticed how they trembled ever so slightly going through the heavy tresses.
"He asked me what I felt about being connected to . . . me." Brian frowned and shook his head. "It's all so confusing, there were too many sides to myself in the end." He glanced up and met Curt's eyes again, but this time he did not look away.
"It was like that the last time too. . . the line between Maxwell Demon and Brian Slade were so blurred in the end that I didn't know who I was."
"I knew." Curt spoke softly, his voice filled with wistful regret at the sudden memories which threatened to overwhelm him. "I always knew."
Brian smirked sadly and lifted an eyebrow. "Why didn't you tell me then? It might have saved us both a great deal of heartache. . ."
Curt shook his head. "You were always Brian, always. . ." He leaned back in the chair and this time he glanced away from the other man sitting across from him and out the window beside him. "It was you, Brian that I fell in love with." Brian felt himself flush with shame at the revelation and he brought a hand up and chewed on the skin of his thumb anxiously. Curt turned back to watch him and his heart wrenched at Brian's apparent angst.
"But you were Maxwell too. . ." He shrugged his slender shoulders and picked at one laquered fingernail. "You were a little of both, I always knew that Maxwell was your way of escaping reality when things got rough. . . and by the end, things were pretty rough. So you retreated. . . from everyone and everything."
"Including you." Brian's voice was no more than a hushed whisper.
Curt nodded, "Including me."
"You've thought this over a bit haven't you?" Brian struggled to force a light tone, but it came out raw and heartbroken.
Curt shrugged again. "It's been ten years. I've been living alone in this luxury with nothing to do but think." He gestured to his rich surroundings and swallowed hard, watching Brian gnaw on his thumb.
"Analyzing you made it a lot easier to forgive you. . . and revealed a lot about why I never stopped . . ." Curt seemed to choke on his word for a brief moment and Brian released his thumb to watch his ex lover.
"Caring about you." Curt finished. Brian's head drooped slightly and his eyes dimmed. Curt inhaled sharply and shook his head, pushing himself out of the chair and before Brian, pacing the length between the two chairs.
"So that's why you're here? You came all the way over here just to ask me whether or not I had revealed your precious secret? Is that why you were lurking in the shadows outside of my building?" Curt gestured to the darkened streets outside with a scowl and Brian narrowed his eyes in surprise.
"You knew I was there?"
Curt rolled his eyes. "Of course I knew you were there, dolt. Even if I couldn't see you, I could feel you." He shrugged it off and reiterated his question. "So is that why you came here?" Curt's voice dripped with scorn, but Brian could hear underlying traces of pain, and a touch of hope which tinged his voice. He shook his head and chuckled softly.
"No, I came to tell you that I'm done."
Curt stopped in mid step and faltered suddenly, his facade dropping suddenly and his tone became gentle. "What?"
Brian shrugged and stood, facing Curt where he had halted. "I'm done."
"I heard that part, dolt. You're done with what?"
Brian shrugged and spread his hands out. "Everything, stardom, fame, everything. I fired Shannon," he shook his head in disgust. "She was good for nothing anyway. And by tomorrow morning Tommy Stone will be dead," Brian smirked. "Killed in a tragic car accident in London."
Curt narrowed his eyes, this time in concern and drew in a deep breath. "Staging yet another death Brian?"
One corner of Brian's mouth turned up in a grin. "This will be my last," he shrugged. "Until I'm dead anyway. Tommy Stone was a fiction created out of lies and desperation, and now that he is gone, hopefully all those lies will die with him."
Curt stepped in closer, inspecting Brian's innocent face with a reticent air. It was the first time he had seen Brian this carefree in over a decade, features untouched of corruption and shame.
"Why are you doing this?" He asked softly.
Brian smiled, a genuine smile that touched Curt's heart and warmed it like a beam of light. "Because ten years ago I let you walk out of my life. Because of my career, our relationship was destroyed." He reached up to touch Curt's face gently.
"I loved you more than anything in this world, more than I ever loved Mandy, more than I ever loved my bloody career." He smiled a sad smile and Curt could see his lip trembling as he spoke.
"But because I was afraid to lose the luxury that was my work, I lost you. . . and when I lost you, I just couldn't go on. That's why I faked my own death. . ." His eyes fell downcast and he winced in momentary guilt.
"I planned to come see you at that bloody concert, the Death Of Glitter. . . but I watched you sing. . . and I lost my nerve. I turned away and I know now that my mistake was there. I should have stayed, but I couldn't." Brian bit his lip and swallowed hard, watching as his own pale hands twisted together nervously.
"I need you Curt. . ." his voice was raw and tremulous as he choked out the words. Brian let out a shaky breath and shook his head. "I'll understand if you don't want to be with me again, honestly, I wouldn't want to be with me either." He managed a wavering smile and avoided the other man's eyes.
"But I just needed to see you, because if I hadn't come I would have never forgiven myself." Brian stammered over his words and felt suddenly very flustered at Curt's lack of response. Mustering up courage Brian glanced up into his eyes and felt the words escape him before he knew what was happening.
"I love you Curt."
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, the whispered confession hanging in the air between them. Curt's breaths were shallow as he reached up to touch the face of his one time lover. Brian's eyes closed and he reveled in the caress for a moment, then his eyes flew open once more to meet Curt's shimmering gaze.
At last Curt's stoic mask slipped and he allowed himself a genuine smile. He swallowed hard and clasped Brian's palm in his own and stepped in closer until he was practically whispering in his ear.
"I have always loved you. . ."
And as the two of them embraced, the final curtains slipped shut on the story of Curt Wild and Brian Slade.
end
End Notes: ::deep breath:: Wow, my very first Velvet Goldmine fanfic. Several friends of mind informed me that it couldn't be done, not without smut anyway ::shrug:: Somehow I managed g
So this is for Alexis and Daphne who were the ones who tied me up and forced me to watch Velvet Goldmine the first two times around until I liked it g Well maybe they didn't tie me up, but you get the idea. . . and for Daph, who sat with me during that utterly bizarre and yet awesome fanfic that first time around ( you know what one it is Daph. . .)
and now
Notes that actually have to do with the story: Well, I again, have to thank Daphne, who was the one that suggested the slight role reversal of Curt living well in a luxurious house whereas Brian was the one who had given everything up. And this is for all you guys who actually read this despite the lack of any smut! Bravo for you!
and now the credits roll. . .
::bows and steps off soapbox::
E-Mail: Velvetphile@maxwelldemon.zzn.com