It was only another week before The Salem Experience gig came to town and Brian found that he was actually excited. He'd been recommended by the nurse to take two weeks off football to let his bruising go down and he'd been bored senseless for the past seven days between the nurse's interference and now.
"Have you got the tickets?" Jennifer asked for the millionth time from the drive as the two boys climbed into her car.
"Yes, mom," Justin sighed, adjusting the driving seat because his legs were just a little longer than his mother's now. "We've got the tickets, we've got money, we'll wear our seat belts, I will drive carefully and I'll be back before midnight. Now, can we please leave."
Brian smirked a little in the passenger seat and Jennifer gave a sort of sighing smile too. "I'm fussing, aren't I?" She asked. "You know, you're right. You'll be fine and I'll see you later. Have a good time sweetie," she leant through the window to plant a kiss on his temple, emitting loud groans from her embarrassed son. "You too, Brian," she added, as she retreated from the car.
"Thanks Mrs …." Brian spotted the glare Jennifer always gave him when he called her Mrs Taylor. "Jennifer," he omitted quickly. He was pretty sure Jen would have said something like 'that's better' but he wasn't sure because Justin was already half way down the drive, calling,
"see you later Mom," as he went.
"Why do I never see your dad?" Brian asked as they began to drive down the street.
"He works a lot," Justin shrugged, as he tried to search through his CD's whilst keeping one eye on the road. "He's always at the office or away on business."
Brian just nodded, his dad always said he was away on business when he'd found some cheap slut to fuck.
"Aha," Justin beamed suddenly, putting a CD into the played hitting the play button. The Salem Experience's song 'Subtle Gothic Undertones' seeped through the speakers like a wailing child lost on the moors. "I love this one," he grinned.
"Don't play them now," Brian moaned. "We're going to see them in a few minutes."
"So," Justin shrugged, turning the volume up and grinning at his passenger before singing loudly; "I hate the way you look at me when we're in public. I hate the fact you act like you don't care. I hate the way you don't eat meat 'cause it's evil and I hate the fact you make me dye my hair! Ooooo oooooo I hate every thing about you-ooooo. So why do I always dream of you, of us, of we. I always dream of you and me." The guitar kicked in then and Justin glared at his sulky passenger. "You're not singing," he moaned.
"Well observed," the taller boy scorned looking out of the window.
"You told me you were a fan."
"I am. That doesn't mean I have to shout the words in a car like a twot."
"You're no fun," Justin accused, daring to turn the track up even louder before continuing, "I hate that my life fucking sucks whilst yours looks perfect all the time and I hate that I've given up when I'm barely twenty nine and I hate that I am trapped while you commit the perfect crime and I hate that you are free but I'm always doing time ! Oooo oooo I hate everything about you-oooo. So why do I always dream of you, of us, of we. I always dream of you and me."
And then Brian just smiled as he joined in. "I always dream of you fucking me! Oooo oooo ooooo ooooo." The boys grinned at each other as they song reached it's crescendo and the two boys head banged as violently as they dared, Brian because of his still tender ribs and Justin because if he crashed this car his mother would kill him but they were still giggling like the school cheerleading squad by the time they reached the venue.
::::::::::::::::::::;
Woah. I love you
Woah. All these things that you do.
Woah. I love you -oo.
Woo-ooo-ooo. Witchcraft Voodoo.
It's like a spell you cast on me
So you're the only one I can see
I never thought I'd look at you that way
Now here we are and all I can say … is
Woah. I love you
Woah. All these things that you do.
Woah. I love you -oo.
Woo-ooo-ooo. Witchcraft Voodoo.
It's like a pain that's dug inside my heart
If I pull it out, I would fall apart.
I never thought I'd want you so much.
But now I just crave your touch.
Woah. I love you
Woah. All these things that you do.
Woah. I love you -oo.
Woo-ooo-ooo. Witchcraft Voodoo.
Woah. I love you
Woah. All these things that you do.
Woah. I love you -oo.
Woo-ooo-ooo. Witchcraft Voodoo.
The song finished and the singer threw his mic-stand dramatically to the ground as the 100 or so fanatic 'The Salem Experience' fans jumped about cheering and clapping like they'd never seen anything so brilliant in their lives. The singer, a young skinny kid in too-tight jeans and too much makeup, seemed to bask in the glory of the response for a second before somewhat embarrassingly, having to pick up his mic-stand and replace his microphone to introduce the next song.
"That was even better live," Justin yelled in Brian's ear, as the next song began to deafen the room. He was beaming. He knew he probably had a ridiculous, giddy look on his face. He knew he was sweating and his face would be bright red and he felt a bit embarrassed because, somehow, even in this chaotic mess of teenage bodies, Brian still looked cool and calm and so unlike the sweaty figures that surrounded him on every side. But he was fixing Justin with a curious expression. A sort of bemused smile, with his lips pulled into his mouth.
"What?" Justin asked, unable to stop bouncing around as the next song started to pick up.
Brian just shrugged a little, still with that expression on his face, as his arms began to snake slowly around Justin's lower back.
"Careful," Justin smiled, as Brian pulled their bodies flush together. "We're in breeder public."
"I don't care," Brian said, close to Justin's ear so the smaller boy felt the words as well as heard them. He also felt Brian kiss ear lightly before saying as quietly as was possible without getting drowned out. "You look just like you do when we fuck."
"Brian!" Justin cried indignantly, pushing the taller boy away … or at least trying to. Of course Brian was stronger and had linked his arms in such a vice like grip, Justin knew he was stuck there until Brian decided to let him go. Not that he minded because Brian was smiling, genuinely smiling at him and his feeble struggle and he was leaning in, his amazing brown eyes with all their intricate shades and flecks locked so firmly on Justin's, and then he nudged his nose gently against Justin's before pressing his lips carefully to the smaller boy's.
It was mere seconds, perhaps not even that long, before the people around them were forgotten. All that mattered was that unbelievable adrenaline that was pulsing through them in time to the beat of the music. They were lost in a sea of passion and music and it was all pouring into this kiss. It was…
"FAGGOTS!" A homophobe yelled and suddenly Justin pushed Brian away and looked at his left arm.
"Fuck," he muttered. The older boy followed his gaze and saw that just at the base of the shirt sleeve, a biggish, fresh gash had appeared. Brian looked to the floor and spotted an flattened beer can, the perfect throwing device. Fucking, goddamn homophobes. He was furious. Part of him thought 'why the fuck shouldn't I kiss him?' But another part of him, almost agreed with whoever it was. Hadn't he been brought up his whole life knowing and accepting that queers were going to destroy America, that it should be illegal, that they encouraged … fucking everything? Global warming, terrorism, monetary problems … it was all down to fags and maybe the Mexicans. That was what he knew. It's what he'd always known. He scoured the crowd, looking for the culprit but everyone was just watching the show.
"Come on," Brian yelled over the din, tugging on Justin's uninjured arm. "Let's go to the toilet and make sure you're okay."
"I'd prefer to just go home," Justin said honestly, looking a little shaken and upset. "I've seen these before anyway and they'll probably only play one more song after this."
"Are you sure?"
Justin nodded and followed Brian, pushing through the crowd awkwardly. A few people yelled 'faggots' a couple point blank refused to let them through but Brian was past caring and Justin was used to it. Brian was stronger and bigger than most of the indie-band nerds that had gathered so if they tried to stop him, he just shoved his way through angrily, dragging Justin behind him by the hand. The hot bodies pressed in around them, the task of getting to some breathable air was beginning to feel impossible. The cold air of the night would be a safe haven when they got there.
::
"Nice shot," the homophobe's friend grinned, slapping him heartily on the back. "Are you sure you're not a quarterback just disguised as a bone-head blocker? But then again," the friend continued, "I suppose your brothers got that sewn up, right? Right? Jack."
"Huh?" Jack Kinney asked distantly.
"Are you listening to a word I've said?"
"Yeah," Jack lied because the truth was, he didn't give a shit about what his friend was saying. He couldn't take his eyes off the monstrosity ahead of him as his own goddamn brother, walked hand in hand with fucking Gaylor.
The car ride to Justin's had had that awkward, 'should I drop you home?' moment but they'd eventually both decided it would be better to go back to Justin's. Besides, Brian still had some unexplained feeling of guilt about the situation. He didn't want to take his eyes off Justin for a second in case he got injured again.
Justin pulled the car up on the drive and the two boys got out. Brian was once again struck by how beautiful the Taylor's house was as Justin opened the door.
"Justin, honey, is that you?" Jennifer's voice called from a sitting area bit. "You're early."
"Yeah mom, it's me. Brian's here too."
"Oh," and then after a slightly uncomfortable silence, Jennifer called, "hello Brian."
"Hello Mrs… er, Jennifer," Brian replied but he knew Jennifer wasn't really listening to him. No one was really listening to him. They were all tuned into the not-so-quiet mutterings of Craig Taylor.
"Is that him?" He was asking his wife. "The … friend."
"Craig," Jennifer was whispering back. "Try to stay calm please. We knew this would happen eventually and Brian seems like a lovely boy."
Brian snorted a little. No one in the history of his life had ever described him as a lovely boy. A waste of space, a money pit, god's child, talented, asshole; yes. Lovely? No, never. Justin elbowed him and told him to stop laughing but that just made him giggle harder until eventually he managed to compose himself enough for them to walk into the sitting room where Jennifer and Craig were sat on the sofa, the programme turned down.
"I didn't think you were coming back here tonight, Brian," Jennifer smiled at him warily.
"He's stayed here before?" Craig demanded angrily.
"Of course he has." Jennifer was still smiling, a strained expression on her face and her voice infuriatingly soft and calm. She sounded like a woman very aware that this situation could erupt at any second and she seemed to feel responsible about stopping that from happening. She reminded Brian of Eric, when he could see that Jack Sr was about to explode at any second and beat the shit out of him. They shared the same 'out-of-control-but-trying' expression.
"I'm not staying tonight," Brian said as politely as he could. "I just wanted to make sure Justin was okay."
"Why wouldn't he be?" Craig demanded. "My son is a man, he doesn't need you making sure he gets home okay."
"Craig, please," Jennifer pleaded, her voice still weird and forced. "You promised you'd stay calm."
"I am calm!" Craig all but yelled, before taking a deep breath and repeating, "I am calm."
"Justin," Jennifer asked slowly, "are you hurt sweetie?"
"Some jerk called us faggots and threw a can at us. It's cut my arm, that's all. I'm fine." Of course, mother's never hear things like 'I'm fine' they just hear 'cut my arm' and are there in seconds with a complex first aid kit, dabbing the wound with anti-septic creams and putting plasters on but Craig didn't seem bothered that Justin was injured all he wanted to know was;
"How did they know you were," he coughed slightly, "erm, G-A-Y?" Brian almost laughed as he saw the pleased expression on Jennifer's face because her husband had quite literally spelt out the fact they were gay. It was ridiculous, possibly even more offensive than being called a fag. These were two people who were frankly embarrassed by the fact their son was gay. He supposed it wouldn't go down that well in the country club circuit if the Taylor's had produced a queer. But, he guessed, at least they were trying; Brian knew he'd be dead in seconds if his family ever found out about him.
"We kissed," Justin answered bluntly and Craig shuddered a little disgustedly before saying.
"Well, you shouldn't have done that. You've got to be more discrete, you can't expect to flaunt yourself in public and for everyone to be okay with that."
"Why the hell not?" Justin asked, angrily. "I have every right to make out with who I want, where I want."
"Justin, please," Jennifer whispered, "you know how hard this is for your father to accept. Keep calm, okay."
"All I'm saying," Craig continued loudly, "is if you flounce around acting like a fag in public then you have to be prepared to get hurt."
"Are you saying it's his own fault?" Brian demanded suddenly, his fist clenching; the true Kinney-blood coming out in him.
"Stay out of this," Craig warned him sharply.
"The fuck I will." Brian almost laughed he was so angry. "I'm not staying out of anything. What if Justin had been bashed in the head by the guy who did this?" He gestured to Justin's relatively harmless wound, "what if he was fighting for his life in hospital? Would you say he'd deserved it then?"
"Get the fuck out of my house," Craig bellowed.
"Gladly," Brian snarled, and stormed out of the house, but not before kissing Justin deeply … just to make his point crystal clear.
Craig practically chased Brian out of the house and slammed the door behind him before turning to yell at his son.
"Justin! You are never to see that boy again."
"That's not fair," Justin shouted back, the emotion apparent in his words.
"It's not about fair, it's about what's best for you."
"But he is best for me. You can't stop me seeing him … I love him."
Brian could hear Jennifer gasp and tell him he couldn't be sure. He heard Craig telling him he was too young to know what love was and that he probably wasn't even gay, that he'd meet the right girl soon enough.
Brian could imagine the smug expression on Justin's face as he said, "oh dad, I'm definitely gay."
"But you can't know!"
"All I dream about is dick. I want to suck dick, I want to get fucked by dick." There was a pause that seemed almost triumphant before he heard Justin say very slowly and very deliberately, "and I love getting fuck by Brian."
And then Brian heard it. The cracking sound of a palm meeting cheek. Brian knew the sound well. He'd been hearing it all his life, though usually at a much closer proximity. He felt like shit. He'd been in the Taylor's house less than five minutes and he'd managed to turn the whole place to shit. There was screaming in their now. Jennifer yelling at Craig not to hit her son. Justin yelling that he was alright. Craig yelling that he was the only one making sense. Another family reduced to war by one douse of Brian Kinney. He pushed himself onto his feet and trudged dejectedly down the path.
Surely, tonight had just been another example in the long list of evidence that Brian had been seeing all his life; love wasn't real. But if that were true, why, when Justin had said that he loved him, had Brian's bruised and battered heard beat faster? And why had he smiled despite the feeling of utter depression he was enveloped with otherwise? And why did he feel inexplicably happy for the entire hour and a half-long walk home?
The elated feeling had thoroughly worn off when he finally fell through the door of his house. The TV was on but he knew both his parents would be asleep so he was safe to walk in. He found Jack watching some programme about transatlantic fishing. It looked boring and Jack looked bored by it.
"This isn't the kind of thing you usually watch," Brian smirked, sitting in the arm chair. "Where's the porn?"
"Fuck you, faggot," Jack said angrily, reaching for the remote and flicking the programme off. "You're late. Where the hell have you been?"
"I went to a concert."
"With…."
"Some friends," Brian sighed, lounging back into the chair. Now he was in the warm house sat in a comfy chair, he was being hit by sudden waves of tiredness.
"Good time?"
"Er," he had to think for a second. The concert had been amazing until 'the incident'. The drive home had been okay and then he'd turned Justin's life to shit. But that was too complicated to explain to a brainless oaf like Jack so he just said, "yeah, it was alright."
"Good," Jack nodded, yawning widely. "Well, I'm getting tired, think I'm going to head up the wooden hill."
"Night," Brian said, not really paying attention to anything Jack was saying. He had things on his tired mind.
"Night. Oh," he stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder, "before I forget, coach wants you at training tomorrow after school. He says he knows you can't play but he's got some new plays that he wants to go through with you."
"Ok, okay," Brian nodded, lifting the remote and flicking through the channels, there should be some kind of sport on, it wasn't that late. Eventually, he found some European soccer game and settled on that before frowning as he found his brother still in the doorway.
"Soccer's for fags," was all he said.
"I think it's got a certain primitive charm," Brian smiled, turning back to the screen.
"You would," Jack muttered under his breath.
"Huh?" Brian asked, innocently.
"Nothing." Jack shook his head, as though Brian had just been hearing things. "Night," he mumbled, before disappearing up the stairs to bed.
I'm sure no one will read this because unlike me, most people have busy Christmas Eve's but for me it's just killing time waiting for Father Christmas to arrive!
I thought I'd leave you all with something joyous ;)
Anyhow … I hope you all have an amazing Christmas!
InconspicuousBunny…xx