I Know

Co-Author: Cherry

Disclaimer: We do not own any of the boys from Queer As Folk nor do we claim to have any sort of claims over the show or its characters. With that said, this takes place during season three after episode five as the next episode doesn't come out until next week. Enjoy and please review with your opinions. Also, Ethan is just a tad OOC. ^_^ Or maybe not since I've friends who seen some of the episode screenings and they say he turns into a total prick. Who knows! We won't find out until next week. But. . .for all you Brian and Justin fans, here ya go.

Chapter One

Justin was lonely. No, not like when he had been with Brian. . .that was a different kind of lonely. They had been separated emotionally, but still. . .Brian at least took the time to check in on him now and then, aside from the casual screws and trips to Babylon. No, this was a new type of loneliness. Now that Ethan had signed with the record company, the blond was always alone. Their crummy little apartment brought little to no comfort and his days in the diner just didn't seem to help bring him to life. He couldn't be seen with Ethan. . . couldn't even be in the same room with him unless he had Daphine at his side to pose as his "girlfriend". Justin swore that one he came out to the world, pulled himself out of the dark reaches of the closet that he would never go back in. . . That was a lie. Now he was forced to hide himself from the world once more, to deny what he shared with Ethan and it pained him. Sometimes his lover would get home in the early hours of morning, too drained and exhausted to talk to him, let alone make love. Since his relationship with the musician was different from the one he shared with Brian. . . Justin couldn't really go to the Bathes for a quick fuck, couldn't find a relief from the mind numbing desertion he felt day in and day out. His only antidote was his drawings and lately they had been filled with someone who seemed to be occupying his thoughts more than they should be. For some reason, all he could think about was Brian and what they shared. Their relationship and how it varied so much from the one he shared with Ethan. Ethan had been romantic, loving, swept him off into the sunset like a prince on the white horse. It was a story book love he should've known to be too good to last. Brian was practical. He always was. Still, the man's words stung his heart like a fresh gaping wound. Not because of what was said, but because it was Brian who'd said it.

"Why would he give up his dream for a little piece of blond boy ass."

It had hurt so much. Sorrow consumed him for a brief minute as blue eyes stared down at the sketch pad in his lap, hand trembling as it held the simple number two pencil. Upon the parchment sheets and scattered along the bed he shared with Ethan were numerous drawings of that perfect body, rich figure and all aroung gorgeous physique of Brian Kinney. Why did he still torment him?

The truth was though, those words still haunted Brian as well, for the fact was, they had not been meant in a mean way. It was the exact same thing that Brian had done for Justin. He hadn't chased after him. He hadn't stopped Justin that night. He would never stand between someone he cared for and their happiness. Stand between them and their dreams. It was why he paid the tuition. He wanted Justin to be happy. Even if he didn't want to admit it to himself, it was the truth.

His apartment was actually empty. It had been more and more as of late. Perhaps it was that he was just uninterested. A nice quick blowjob at the baths two days ago was enough to last him for now. It felt even more empty than before. Watching sappy old romance movies. One of his favorites. He knew every word by heart. Movies were okay. Movies were fake. Fake, and plastic, just like love. For such a heterosexual hater, he seemed to enjoy the movie enough. His eyes focused off of the screen a moment, shaking his head as he sighed, and that hand lifted to rub his eyes the wrist holding shells around it that glinted in the dim light.

He missed him. He missed hearing his feet pad across the wooden floor. Hearing a dish break from him trying to cook.

"Just tell him you love him."

"I never loved him."

He shook his head and stood up, flipping the TV off and just listening to the distant sounds of the city below as he made his way to the bar, fingers brushing idly over his computer desk, over a picture laid there. The picture that Justin had done of him, naked, sleeping, far before the accident. His fingers touching it sent a shock of what felt like electricity up his arm, sending images of that night scraping through his head like a razor blade. He actually flinched before he pulled away. . .

Gods. Alcohol. He needed something now... His paces quickened as he stepped up into the small dining area, digging into one of the drawers, and opening up a tin holding his stash as two single white pills were taken up and the drawer shut with one hip, he leaned back against it, eyeing the drugs, before his hand reached back, just grabbing whatever he good. Vodka. Vodka would work... Comfortably numb.

The pills were taken just as they were a thousand times before when he wanted to forget the world. The only people who gave a shit about you were your friends, and right now, he didn't even really have those. Mikey and he were further apart. He knew that more than ever now that he and that drugged up boyfriend of his were together. Playing with fire. Mikey would never learn. He bit the inside of his cheek as he tilted his head back, trying to ignore the bitter sting of the vodka on his throat, and the aroma of what smelled more like nail polish remover than alcohol hurting his nostrils. . . Brian was thinking. Lost in thought. Thirty. How did he become thirty? Where would he be in ten years? Who would want him then? No one, that's who. Gods. He needed to die in five years, and he needed to do it fast. He chuckled at the thought as he felt the world spin, and he stumbled on the slight step off of the kitchen area, and found himself flat on his stomach on the floor, face down and cheek resting against the cool wood floor. As the light dose of drugs began to tingle through his system, it felt nicer, and Brian had no will to move, the bottle still clutched in one hand.


By the time Ethan came home again, it was already late. Justin had stayed up, though. He usually did. It was the one time he really got the other all to himself. It wasn't as if he could be with him whenever he wanted now.

"Hey," he whispered, the dinky room lit by a single lamp while the blond began to gather up the sketches he'd made over the past few hours, his hand killing him as a constant reminder of how he would never be able to draw the same as he used to; with a constant vigilance. A kiss was received and Ethan surveyed the room, setting that beloved violin case down and his sheet music along with it.

"What's this?"

A picture was collected and Justin felt nervous for some reason, as if the other might be upset with what was on the paper. He was right.

"I thought you were over him."

Pale brows knitted into a frown as he shifted on the bed, brushing the blond locks out of his face.

"I am." This only seemed to enrage the musician who simply shoved the sketch back into Justin's hand.

"Bullshit."

He'd never seen Ethan upset before, if anything the man was always calm. This actually frightened him. A long, hard day of work must have taken its toll on the last of the man's tolerance for  when Justin rose to pull him into a hug, he was only shoved away, tumbling onto the mattress where he could only sit up on his forearms and gape at the other.

"Ethan, I---"

He was abruptly cut off, dark eyes narrowing viciously at him, "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

But it did. At least to Justin who was once again on his feet and trying to pull the obviously disgruntled man towards him. "Ethan, please." Rage suddenly pulsed through the violinist and a hand snapped out, colliding with one pristine and fragile cheekbone before he could stop himself.

"I said it doesn't matter!"

This not only left Justin horrified as he clutched his cheek, but also pierced him with another wave of pain that came physically and emotionally as his heart took a vicious stab to its core. What was worse is that Ethan didn't even apologize. No, instead he stripped down and climbed into bed without another word, leaving Justin's drawings scattered along the floor. The only thing he could think of at the moment was it was nearly five o' clock and the Liberty Avenue diner would be opening in an hour and he had work. The other thing on his mind was. . .would Brian have ever hit him as well?

He had his entire morning to think about it.

"SUNSHINE!" And that shrill voice was enough to shatter anyone's ear drums. Debbie was quick to give him his morning hug, but before she could shoo him off with a list of things to do, caught hold of his chin firmly and stared at him. "What in God's name is that? Is that a BRUISE? Who hit you??" She was furious, the gum chomping jaw set firmly with a frown and behind him he could hear Melanie and Lindsy get up from their seats to stand beside her.

"It's nothing, Deb'." Of course, it was never wise to lie to Michael's mother. He received a light pat on the cheek which might have been a soft slap as she released him.

"Don't give me that crock of shit. Who the fuck hit you?" And how could you want to lie to a mother like that?

Looking down, Justin shifted in his spot, hands shaking in the pockets of his sweat jacket as he glanced up to be met with the stares of three anxious women. "I got jumped on the way down. Some fag-hater or something. . . I got lucky. Some guy chased him off."

All of them were shocked.

"Did you report it?" Mel was quick to ask as Lindsy ran off to retrieve some ice.

"No," he whispered quietly. "I didn't get a good look at him." After a few minutes of talk, work finally proceeded as usual.

Customers began to enter at seven and Justin had already taken out the trash and was serving orders, all the while Debbie keeping a close watch on him. Everyone knew she was smart, no one doubted that either. She knew there was something going on, something Justin was hiding. If she waited, watched, and kept a good eye on him, she'd figure it out eventually.

Meanwhile, "MICHEAL! If you don't finish that bacon, I swear I'll---" Mornings in Liberty Avenue Diner were always interesting.

"Mom, stop it!" Michael looked back and forth to Emit and Ted, then just sighed and shook his head. "Do you EVER stop?"

Emit just chuckled and rolled his eyes as he took a bite of hash browns off of his fork, giving a rather cute grin as that high pitched flamboyant voice of his came out. "Oh lay off of her. SOMEONE just needs to be a li~ttle more grateful."

Mikey started to say something back, but halted as he heard the bell ring, and the figure walk past that they all knew too well. Suit, briefcase, paper. . . though he looked a little slower than usual. A little more out of it.

A hand brushed Mikey's shoulder, and his voice came out, smooth, cold, and sarcastic as usual. "Shut up and stuff the meat in your mouth like a good boy, Mikey."

He leaned down a little, gripping the other's shoulder and giving it a little squeeze before he dropped into the booth that was back to back with Michael's, propping his paper up in front of him, leaning back against the wall. His eyes didn't even look up to Justin yet. He had that same arrogance about him. Never approach until approached. He figured Justin was still angry at him anyway. . . damn sappy romantic kid. He could never take what Brian said as anything more than an insult, but Brian Kinney was not one to be read lightly.

Poor Mikey never caught a break, and his mother was not one to help the situation as she laughed playfully and slapped the comic book lover on the shoulder with one of the menus. Of course, her expression dropped some as she turned to Brian, jaw working that poor piece of gum which had probably been in her mouth for hours now.

"Usual?" Debbie really didn't need an answer; she knew it already and was barking for Sunshine to get the coffee.

He was dawned in that apron and casual clothes like usual, Justin made his way to Brian's table, coffee in hand, mug in the other. No pleasantries were offered, they barely were nowadays. It just. . . it hurt to have Brian around lately and the blond ducked his head a bit, doing his best to hide the bruise which shown brightly on his milky complexion. Cup set down, Justin poured the other his morning cup of coffee, eyes not daring to look up at the man who'd been on his mind far too much and had cost him a rather nasty blow to the face. After having put that ice pack on it earlier, the swelling had gone down immensely from the once grotesque looking thing it'd once been. Which was good. He didn't want to have to answer any more questions than he needed to. Of course, the Fag Fellowship behind Brian had already heard the news of his "attack" so it wasn't among the Gay Gossip to be discussed at the moment. Instead, Emit and Ted's new house was. It was nice to be taken out of the spotlight, this much was for sure.

Brian's eyes dared to dart up, but instead of darting away, remained on him for a moment, before his brows lifted and he looked back down, his voice low, and quiet, easing under the gossip the others were ranting about.

"Who hit you?" his voice came out crueler than he meant it. Almost arrogant as he set the paper aside after another second, and sat back with his coffee in both hands, tipping his head back to take a sip and setting it aside.

The bruise was bad. His eyes slid back up awaiting an answer, surveying over it. It was definitely a hit. Brian had hidden enough bruises from people to last a life time.

Brian himself seemed a little off. His was skin paler than usual and his voice and eyes perhaps a little more distant than usual. Almost carrying a heaviness to them of someone simply too tired to care anymore. And he was. He wanted to say more. Deep down, he did. Mikey was the only one who could really understand Brian. It was why what he told Justin was true. Brian did care. He had his ways of caring. Justin just never saw it. When Justin needed help, Brian was there. Brian had always been there. Just not in the way Justin wanted.

And maybe it was true, maybe Brian had given Justin so much, but when you're a love-struck teenager, material possessions mean nothing. You're looking for love, love that's made out to be like a fairy tale. Once this is accomplished and shattered, you're left with nothing but the stark reality of it all. Only now was Justin beginning to realize this.

"It doesn't matter who did it," he whispered in reply, coffee pot picked up as he moved to turn only to be stopped by Debbie and that statue of a position she held.

"It does matter you little shit. Stop acting like it doesn't." She gave him a good, hard slap with the menu she had used to smack Mikey with just a few seconds earlier and turned to Brian. "He was jumped on his way to work this morning." Or at least that was the only she had to tell, it didn't quite mean she believed it. There was more to it. She knew this. You don't raise a gay son and not pick up a few tricks along the way.

"Deb', come on." The fiery red head only clicked her tongue.

"No, you come on! You need to stop acting like nothing fucking happened. You could've been killed! With this said, get that cute ass over to the kitchen and get those orders to their tables." The woman really could have commanded a military unit. . .

"Yes, Deb'." And sullenly did Justin take off, offering a weak smile when Debbie eyed him.

"That kid," she huffed finally the turned to Brian. "So, what's your story?" Always the one to know everything, wasn't she? "You look like shit." And quite the blunt one at that.

"It doesn't matter if he says it doesn't matter," he said finally in a rather uncaring tone as he waved one hand rather dismissively. "Sunshine's a big boy now. He can take care of himself. Housewives usually can."

He took another sip of his coffee before he slid to his feet, one hand grasping his briefcase and the other the paper, which he let tap Debbie once, a smile on his face that was something almost venomously sarcastic. It was obvious he wasn't happy. "Just another long night. Nothing new."

He glanced back to the tip on the table, which was actually rather large. He had unconciously done it... ah well. He gave a nod to Mikey, then eyes rolled when they glanced to the two lesbians. Ugh. Could they just stop reproducing?

"Speaking of wanting to be house wives. . . Congratulations on picking Mikey as the new donor." An icy glare was cast at Lindsay most of all. It was mildly insulting that she didn't want him to be the father again. That Gus and the other would be pretty much unrelated. He gave another smile, cocky voice ringing out. Oh, he was just getting himself into a mess this morning. "Nice thought, knowing your kids won't be related, isn't it?" He didn't even let the girl respond, he just shoved out the door and into the street.
 

"Ooh!" And Debbie was just seething with fury. Only Brian and those homophobic pricks were able to do it to her. She angrily chomped on her gum, glaring daggers at the door while commotion bustled as per usual in the diner.

After a moment of conversing with Lindsey and Mel', who were already packing up to leave, Justin moved to begin sweeping the tables for tips and he found it was Brian's he was most dreading. He hated the feeling that Brian kept dumping money on him because he felt sorry for him.

It was a long day of running errands, waiting tables, and cleaning dishes before his shift was done at three. Absently was that thin sweat jacket pulled around him, the blue contrasting with pale blond of his hair as he made his way to Daphne's where he would be studying for the evening.

Surely he didn't expect her to simply let that bruise of his go. No, she hounded him about it until he finally spilled the truth.

"He hit you?!" She was furious. "Justin, you. . .you can't take that from him!"

A mere shake of his head. "It's not like that Daph', he was just irritated."

A scowl on her part. Things were getting messy. "No! Irritated or not, he shouldn't have hit you!"

A glare. Defenses had been put up and now he was shutting out his best friend, storming out the door with a simple, "You don't know anything."

That night. . .it was worse. Ethan came home late, as per usual, in a darker mood than before. Brian was not brought up, but the sex that night was not love making, but a cruel act of sinister, bruising fingers around his wrists, harsh kisses and painful nips at his neck. The following morning, Justin had resorted to wearing a turtleneck, even though the morning weather was a warm eighty degrees.