A/N: title taken from a tori amos song
Pick Out Your Cloud.
Leaning against soft grey, soaking it all in. Soaking in the grey. They were against the wall leaning gently, side by side against the wall soaking in the warm grey. Brian threaded his fingers through Curt's hair. He loved the way they slipped through, slid through, swam through the silky silky locks.
It was still raining outside. Brian knew this because the windows were very large and very low to the ground. The blue and clear and green and gold had no trouble finding their way through those large windows. No, had no trouble at all finding their way in and making them warm and bright.
Curt dropped his head on to Brian's shoulder.
"It was '68." Nod.
"Ok."
"I'm sure it was '68." Nod.
"Fine."
"Briaaan." Smirk.
"What? I'm just agreeing with you." It had been going on like this for quite awhile. This playful banter dancing back and forth between them. It was quite amusing.
"Anyway," Curt said, shifting his body so that his head lay in Brian's lap, "I met Skyler in 1968. She and Mandy would have gotten along beautifully." He laughed slightly. "Skyler was... She was something else, long gorgeous black hair. And she had these incredible eyes that could just read into; explore your body inside and out. Beautiful..." His voice traveled off as though he were looking for something lost long ago. Something like youth or innocence -- innocence was stolen, while youth was lurking behind some hidden door way, one they would never find or even think to look for. Something lost on his way Here. On his way through the rain.
"What happened to her?" He asked in a slow silent kind of way, one that shouted through the silence of the room. Startling.
"She killed herself." It was blunt and hardened and yet incredibly smooth. Stunning.
"Curt... I'm... I'm sorry..."
"Don't be, I'm not." Tender.
Curt reached his hands up, pulling Brian closer to him. Their lips brushed once, twice three times. Kiss. They pulled apart gently. "Skyler... she wasn't meant for here. I guess not meant for this world. She wasn't happy and it hurt because I thought it was my fault. I would think of all the things she used to tell me and swear it was my fault, but I realised that she was just being Skyler."
Tears were coming gently now. Flowing flowing down his cheeks. Wetting them grey, blue and green. Tears for things lost and things found and for the future. He was smiling through his tears. "I just... miss her sometimes."
"Mmm." Brian let his hand come down to rest on Curt's cheek. He cupped it gently and was pleased when Curt moved into the caress. Pleased to know that he knew him. He let his hand and fingertips roam Curt's face, gently smearing the colour and the pain, evening it all out even. And suddenly he wondered if he could taste those tears, taste those happybruisedsadsad little pain trails winding Curt's face. He moved his hands lightly to Curt's neck and just stared at him. Through all of his imperfection, Brian saw nothing but beauty.
And oh.
How perfect was it? He didn't want perfection, no never that. Because perfection is black and perfection can be broken. No, not perfection, he just wanted Curt.
Brian leaned down and let his lips touch his cheek, tasting his tears. It was salty and yet not so much, because mostly it was sad grey happy that he tasted and mostly he could feel the colour. He kissed his cheek again, then the other
then his forehead
chin
neck
nose
eye
mouth. Mouth. Mouth.
He was grateful to Skyler, thankful. There was no jealousy between them, only gratitude that could be felt flowing both ways.
'Thank you Skyler.' He thought to himself. 'Thank you for taking care of him. Thank you Thank you.' And he was very thankful to her, thanking her as he straddled Curt's legs. Thankful as he kissed his mouth, raked fingers through hair, dragged teeth down neck. Thankful as he grasped both of Curt's hands in his own, as he interlaced them. 'Thank you for giving him to me.'
Their worlds were reaching a breaking point, shattering and colliding in pure, white space and he found himself chanting her name in his head over and over. It was a beautiful, splendid mantra.
_________
They let it go and there was no more talk of beautiful Skyler, although Brian wouldn't have minded. She reminded him--as much as one could be reminded of someone they never knew-- of piano music, slow and dark and ethereal, but he let it go. No more talk of Skyler or older brothers or anyone or anything else, just silence. Good silence.
Curt stood up, his form glittered and glistening. He would be the golden child of anything and everything you had ever dreamed of. He turned towards Brian and smiled, "Do you want to go for a walk?" Brian just nodded. They both got dressed quietly. Finished, Curt turned to face Brian. He walked over to him and gently lifted his chin with his fingers, raking his fingers through Brian's hair repeatedly. "Dye this." And that's all he said, grabbed Brian's hand and pulled him out the door. 'Dye this.' What cryptic blue. 'Dye this'. Brian rolled over it in his mind a few times. Tested it on his tongue. Found it appalling and amusing that he actually had to stop himself from saying the words out loud.
"Dye yours." Curt just grinned.
They walked and walked and Curt didn't tire because Curt was like that, a bundle of curious and nervous energy. 'Dye this' had indeed died from his mind and from the tip of his tongue. But. New words had formed in their place. 'I was scared.' Wow. Where did that come from? Nowhere. Neverwhere. Where ever it was they were. This place was sacred and emotional and here, with him it was ok. Ok to let it go. Except not.
"I was scared." He blurted it out. Flying words, confused and lost and much too late. He said them quietly. Whispered to them, those secret little secrets. "I was scared." And then a little bit louder. "I hurt a lot." And suddenly he was a little boy again alone and lonely and lost. Suddenly, when no one was looking, he had been switched with himself, only different and much earlier. This was important and not and cryptic and and "I was scared." Pink and rosy rage. "I was scared!"
"I know." and that was almost enough. Almost, Almost, but really not. Especially not because no, Curt could know because he was in the dark here, in the shadow. Brian began to shake his head, but Curt stopped him, grabbing hold of his chin and placing feather like kisses on his cheeks.
"When will you not know?!" Brian felt frantic because he needed this on and off and he was bursting beauty and strength and and colour. God. "When will you not?" Weak and desperate now, he asked again. More less, smaller and quieter and sad. Tired. "When will you not?" He sunk down to his knees sobbing; only not really because there were no tears, Brian simply didn't have any left, not for this at least. So mostly, he just felt like he couldn't breathe. "I'm dying." And maybe he was, but not really because it was only silence, only silence that was killing him and that hurt worst of all.
Curt sunk down next to Brian and held him closely. Rocking him and kissing his temple. "When will you not know?" A whisper far and gone, lingering ever so slightly.
So. when did it come to this? Curt sighed. "When you don't tell me." He ran his hands up Brian's arms and gently whispered, his voice making Brian shake. "Show me. Show me your scars."
Start
The
Music
Brian nodded.
_________
