Title: My Beautiful Friend
By: Amanda
Feedback: sweety167yahoo.ca
Rating: PG (not even)
Pairing: Michael and Brian
Disclaimer: I own no characters nor anything related to QAF. Nor do I own my inspiration. Pitty.
Spoiler: 510/511
Summary: Brian realises the beauty in his life is Michael. Takes place in the area between episodes 510 and 511.
Completed: February 22, 2006
Notes: Inspired by the song "My Beautiful Friend" by The Charlatans UK

Brian had developed a real talent for this over the years. Who knew he had a special skill for charming his way into hospital rooms long after visiting hours and deep into the night? Who ever said a pretty face won't get you anywhere?

It had gotten Brian into Michael's room. It had allowed him here, to stand over the broken and bruised body of his best friend – even with all the fighting between them, he would always consider Michael his best friend. He would forever look at him and see so much more.

He dropped into the stiff plastic chair. Watching Michael sleep was always a comfort to him, a comfort he needed. Ever since they were kids, and the world would rip apart in a violent mess, the simple act of watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the delicate fluttering of his eyelids or the usual look of rest relaxing his features would calm Brian. It could mend the whole world.

-- But this wasn't one of those times.

Michael's breathing was matched by a machine, rough and ragged and forced. His skin was bruised and scrapped and his face looked anything but restful. It was drawn and tired and old. He couldn't find that same face in this bed.

And so, inside, Brian panicked. He was crumbling without his cornerstone, without his Mikey. And they hadn't even spoken in days – at least not as Brian and Mikey. Although, Mr. Kinney and Mr. Novotny-Bruckner had conversed. And they were barely civil. They could barely stand each other.

Brian braced his elbows on his knees. "It can't end like this," he spoke with a tired sigh, "We can't." There was just too much between them, said and unsaid, to have it fade away like all this.

He remembered the nights spent like this, similarly. With Brian too over strung to sleep while he watched Michael dream.

They would fall asleep huddled together on Michael's childhood bed. Awkward limbs barely toughing – Both frightened of the contact, but for different reasons. Too many secrets would be revealed, too many pleasured betrayed. How would they be able to break into two separate bodies by morning?

On those nights Brian would stay up to watch his friend. He had no eye for art then, but he knew what he liked to look at. He liked to look at Michael. The way his raven hair spiked out against the cartoon coloured pillow. The play of dark eyelashes delicately tickling his pale cheeks. His soft, pink mouth – parted – as the air drew in and out between his lips. The movement of ropy muscles under his smooth, milky skin as he moved with his dreams. Rest. Youth. Beauty. Hope.

Michael always looked innocent and beautiful when he slept. It showed Brian that the world wasn't a complete waste all the time. And neither was he, not if he was allowed to be there with that beauty. No place where something as beautiful as Michael existed could be all bad. It had hope.

But a place that would take Michael away…

Brian shook his head, but he couldn't shake the thought, he couldn't shake the image. It wasn't just an image in his head, it was the reality. All he could see was Michael on that bed, tired, broken. It was all he could think.

His eyes were swimming, his world was spinning.

"Come on Mikey, we can't end like this," his words bounced off the walls as if he were alone in the room. The dark thought was pounding against his head.

A raspy, ragged breath forced it's way out of Michael's chest – a snore. A sign of life.

Brian choked, keeping back any sounds of his breaking heart. But the pain fell from his eyes; like when they were younger, the affirmation of Michael being the living, breathing, beautiful part of his life would always bring Brian's walls down. Would bring Brian to his emotional knees, if no one was watching.

"Michael," he breathed the name like a sigh, "You have to know… I l--"

The door creaked open, Brian wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, the way he did as a broken teen. He looked up at Ben, ignoring any sign of his own distress; "He never used to snore."

"It's…it's new," Ben replied, unsure if he could ignore the pain raging on the other man's face as well as the man himself could.

Brian bobbed his head, he would accept that right now, and pulled himself to his feet. Stretching tired and stiff muscles.

"You don't have to leave. Stay. He'd…want to see you," Ben fought for the right thing to say, the right words.

Brian shook his head, "He can tell me that." With one last look at the sleeping body, he left. He would come back when he can have his beautiful friend to himself.

End.