"let's enlighten the night
we can fall away, slip out of sight"
November 2012
**Brian**
Brian was headed back to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. He could hardly believe it.
Before Gus, holidays were just days to get through, days he was forced to take off work, and days he typically spent at a club or a bar or with numerous, nameless men who would go to great lengths to pleasure him. After Gus, and especially after moving to New York, that changed. He and Lindsay had worked out a schedule for alternating holidays – he did it for Gus, because the kid liked having his parents together for the various "big ones" and so he and Lindsay would trade off traveling to either Vermont or New York. It was Lindsay's turn to host Turkey-day so when she dropped the bombshell that she was going to take Gus to Pittsburgh to see her ailing parents instead of having the dinner at her house in Vermont, Brian saw it as a perfect opportunity to actually go and make the amends he'd said he was going to make. Nearly everyone he cared about still lived in Pittsburgh, and going back because Gus would be there was really the perfect excuse.
That was how Brian found himself on a flight back to Pittsburgh the Tuesday before the holiday. He'd decided to go a few days early to allow himself some time to find people (namely, Michael) and make the necessary appeals for forgiveness. He'd been thinking a lot about what he'd say, and after trying for weeks to rehearse a speech he'd simply decided to wing it. Anything he rehearsed sounded far too manufactured, and he wasn't entirely sure Michael wouldn't see through a prepared speech anyway. It was important to him that Michael at least listened and if nothing else Brian wanted to come away from this trip knowing he'd done his absolute damnedest to make things up to his (former?) best friend.
As Brian drove the scenic route, by way of Liberty Avenue, to his hotel he couldn't help notice how different Pittsburgh felt after being in New York for so long. It felt small, and stifling. He was glad to be gone.
He was also curious to see the old haunts – and surprisingly nothing looked much different. The various signs and banners were a little faded, but everything he had known in his youth growing up on Liberty Avenue, was still there. There was even a new bar on the corner of Liberty Ave and 6th St., just a few doors down from Woody's. Brian thought he might check it out at some point over the weekend.
It was still early, so when he arrived at the Marriott City Center – where as a Platinum member he was automatically upgraded to the Presidential Suite, much to his delight – he dropped his luggage and got back into his rental car, on a mission to track down Mikey.
Red Cape Comics looked exactly the same, too, and that was how Brian knew Michael still ran the place – not that he doubted he didn't, but the sameness of it, the familiarity of it was still a comfort. Michael had never been one for tolerating much change in his life, and Brian truly doubted he was any different now and the store was evidence of that.
Brian couldn't see inside, the front window was full of bagged books featuring not only the staples of the comic worlds of DC and Marvel, but other odd looking books and brands that Brian had never heard of. He looked at them for a moment before gripping the door handle and going inside.
The bell above the door chimed, as it always had always would; it sounded just the same as the first time Michael had dragged Brian into the shop (back when it was owned by Buzzy), and he looked around for his friend.
"Be right with you," Brian heard Michael's voice call from the back and he smiled softly to himself. It was all so familiar, all so much the same Brian had a hard time remembering is was 2012, not 2004.
A few moments later Michael came around the corner and Brian watched as he froze in his tracks, his polite smile fading from his face while his eyes widened slightly. There was a long silence between them before Michael slowly shook his head and took another few hesitant steps towards Brian.
"Hey Mikey," Brian spoke first, feeling very unsettled with the way Michael was staring at him; like he was an aberration or a mirage.
"Brian," Michael breathed his name with a forced exhalation of air, and he sounded very surprised.
"I never expected…uh, what are you doing here?" Michael moved then, going behind the counter and crossing his arms over his chest before settling on top of the stool that still sat there. Brian swore it was the same stool that had been there for the last twenty years.
"Lindsay brought Gus down to see her parents for Thanksgiving. I decided I'd crash their dinner party," he teased, testing the waters. He maintained a safe distance though – he was getting a very strong feeling from Michael that he wasn't exactly welcome – which he expected, and which he hoped to change.
"Oh," Michael bit his lip. "And you came here for….?"
"Well," Brian took a step towards the counter and Michael behind it, "I thought we could talk. Maybe, clear the air?"
Michael grinned then, and before Brian could help himself he grinned back – but he was clearly mistaken in what Michael's grin meant, because no sooner had it appeared on his face then it was gone, transformed into a scowl. Then he was on his feet, his hands planted palms-down on the top of the counter.
"Clear the air? Did you just say that?"
Brian's grin fell fast and he took a quick step backwards at the force of Michael's angry tone.
"Like all that happened was just a small misunderstanding? Like you didn't break Justin's heart, and mine. Like you didn't basically ruin the best thing I might have ever created? And our friendship on top of that?"
Brian stared at Michael, letting him say the things he needed to say. He would accept the anger and blame – because he deserved it. He just hoped after the anger there was anything left. He hoped there was a chance at all to salvage whatever might remain of the friendship they'd once shared.
"I'm not sure how you think we can clear the air," Michael said, using his fingers to make quotes. "I'm fucking pissed as hell at you."
"I know. But -," Brian started.
"No," Michael spat, cutting Brian off. "No but's. No nothing. Just go, Brian. Ben and I are having guests over for dinner and I need to get home. So just go."
Brian didn't move and Michael sighed.
"Please leave."
"Yeah. Sure," Brian turned. As he went to leave, the door open and one foot over the threshold, he turned back and smiled sadly at his friend. "Sorry, Mikey."
He shut the door behind him and heard the lock click into place not moments later.
That had not gone as he'd hoped, but Brian wasn't giving up quite yet. If Michael was still that angry than that proved he still cared. And if he still cared, there was hope for salvaging something yet.
Back in his rental car, Brian called Ted. He and Ted had reconciled years ago, mostly, and they talked, not just about Kinnetik business either – though the other man didn't speak of their mutual Pittsburgh acquaintances to Brian anymore.
Ted was very surprised to hear Brian was back in town, and when he asked if he'd seen anyone yet Brian thought the question sounded a little more weighted than was necessary. And when Brian said he'd just tried to talk to Michael, Brian swore he could actually hear Ted's tension melt away before he gave a soft laugh, agreeing to meet Brian at Woody's for a drink.
First thing the next morning, after Brian ran five miles on the treadmill in the hotel gym, he grabbed a coffee and headed back over to Red Cape Comics. He parked on the street, right in front of the store and waited for Michael to show up and open up shop.
His evening out with Ted had been enlightening; Ted encouraging that Brian push Michael to listen to him. Ted even told Brian that Michael still talked about Brian and all their past escapades. Yes, he had been angry and hurt from Brian's absence in California, but that had faded over time – Ted didn't think it'd take very much prompting for him to accept Brian back into his life.
Ten minutes later Brian saw him bouncing down the sidewalk. He still had that same, slightly springy walk, and Brian grinned, taking one more swig of coffee before climbing out from the car. He watched as Michael neared and his walk became slower and less springy until Michael was standing right on front of him. In the brightness of the morning sun, Brian could see the grey at Michael's temples and he swallowed a smile.
"What are you doing back here?" Michael asked, though he was far less venomous in tone than he'd been the day before.
"I'm here to apologize," Brian plainly stated, enjoying the shocked look that washed over Michael.
Brian was taking Ted's advice. That instead of trying to charm his way back into Michael's life, he had to just own up to his mistake and just fucking apologize. It was all anyone wanted. It was all that was necessary – at least according to Ted.
Brian sincerely hoped Theodore was right.
"I was a huge fucking asshole to you, and you didn't deserve it. I am sorry, Michael. Truly. I am."
Silence. The two friends just looked at each other and try as he might, Brian could not read what was going through Michael's head, though he could practically see the angel-Michael on one shoulder and devil-Michael on the other, both trying to convince Michael whether the apology should be accepted or not.
"Wow."
Michael shook his head.
"It's about fucking time," Michael finally said, and in that moment Brian knew it would be okay - eventually. There was still a long way to go, and a lot of time to make up for – but Brian knew Michael would take him back, and that was all he really wanted.
"I mean it," Brian said, following Michael as he turned and unlocked the door to the shop.
"I certainly hope so," Michael said, dropping his jacket on the counter and turning to face Brian again.
"What brought this on?"
Brian shrugged. He wasn't about to reveal the fact that he'd seen Justin…twice. He was afraid it might undo the very, very fragile reconciliation that was in progress. And no matter what happened with Justin, Brian was fast realizing he had missed Michael's presence in his life.
"Like you said," Brian wandered over to the wall and started thumbing through the comics in the bins, "it was about fucking time."
Michael was quiet and after a few minutes Brian turned back to face him. He was staring at him peculiarly, and with a slightly unsteady voice he asked, "are you okay? You're not…sick?"
"No," Brian shook his head, "no."
"I'm fine. Really, Mikey. Promise."
Michael nodded and moved behind the counter, popping the register open before lifting a tray from beneath the counter and settling it inside.
"A few weeks ago I came across a copy of the first issue of Rage," Brian said, changing the subject. "It was in the local comic book store by my place."
"You frequent a comic book store?" Michael asked and Brian smiled.
"No," he paused as Michael disappeared into the back and came back with a bank bag. As he slowly filled the cash register tray with the money from the bag Brian went on, "I was just walking by and saw it in the window. I guess it was what prompted me to come by. That and because I had been an immature asshole."
Michael offered a tight-lipped smile and Brian sighed inwardly. Rage. It all came back to that.
"I'm sorry I ruined it for you," Brian said, and he meant it. He really, truly did. For as smart as he liked to think he was, he hadn't foreseen the decline and death of the comic book coming as a repercussion of his actions.
Michael just nodded, his expression clouding and Brian sighed inwardly. Yes, they still had a long way to go before things would be "back to normal", so to speak.
"So is JR coming for Thanksgiving? She must be getting big now," Brian changed the subject again – eager to keep the conversation flowing in a positive way and watching Michael close the register and move to the door, flipping the sign to OPEN.
"No," he shook his head and crossed his arms, "Mel will bring her at Christmas but Thanksgiving is always spent in Baltimore. Ben and I are leaving early tomorrow morning to drive out there, actually."
"Oh," Brian was surprised. He really didn't know anything about Melanie's life now. She and Lindsay no longer spoke. They'd tried for awhile, for the sake of the kids, but in the end it had proven too hard and so they'd each gone their own way, with their own child.
"Yeah," Michael shrugged and Brian was a little amazed at his nonchalance. He made a mental note to ask him about it at a later time.
"Have you seen anyone else since you've been in town?" Michael suddenly asked and like with Ted, Brian got the odd sense that there was more meaning behind the question than what was implied on the surface.
"Just Ted," Brian replied and Michael's face, all screwed up in concern, relaxed.
"You should go see Ma," Michael smiled and Brian offered a sharp laugh.
"Right."
Fifteen minutes later, Brian was standing outside The Liberty Diner, watching through the front window as Deb, still wearing that damned red wig and wild, rainbow vest covered in buttons and bling, smacked gum and served up pancakes and eggs and bacon. He was nervous to enter – unsure of the kind of reception he might get. He'd hurt not only her son – her pride and joy and reason for living – but also her surrogate son. She might be so angry she wouldn't let him get a word out and as hard as apologizing to Michael had been, facing Debbie now was terrifying. He felt like a fourteen year-old kid again, only nothing he'd ever done as a kid could hold a candle to the hurts he'd inflicted over missing the damned movie premiere.
"Well," he muttered to himself, "here goes nothing."
"She shrieked, then slapped me across the face, then pulled me into a hug, then shoved me onto a stool and yelled for a few minutes," Brian lifted his beer and took a drink.
"It was like I'd never left," he added and the others smiled.
Brian was at Woody's. Again. But this time it felt more like the good old days. Around him sat all his friends; Ted with Blake beside him, Michael and Ben, Emmett. It was almost like old times. Except for the odd looks he'd occasionally get from Michael.
The reconciliation between he and Mikey was still rather fragile. Brian could see Michael was still battling with himself and he wondered why. What was it that kept Michael just on the edge, ready to bolt in the other direction if Brian said or did anything wrong? It was unnerving, and as such the entire table was under this odd, tense umbrella of emotional stress. The only one who seemed impervious to it was Emmett.
When Emmett had arrived at Woody's, the last of them to get there, he'd given Brian a long hug, whispering a few threatening words into his ear about hurting Michael again before letting him go and sitting at the table.
Aside from that moment, and Michael's odd stares, it almost felt like no time had passed.
"She invited me over for dinner on Saturday," Brian smiled, "Gus, Linds and I."
His reunion with Debbie had been everything he'd expected, and nothing like what he'd expected. Every emotion he'd thought possible to feel had rushed through him, and he was pretty sure it had been the same for Debbie. But in the end, she'd pulled him close and told him she loved him and for Brian that was all he'd needed to hear.
He could only hope if, or when, he finally spoke to Justin again that it went half as well as it had with Michael and Debbie.
"It's too bad Ben and I won't be there," Michael pouted, "we usually have family dinner on Saturday but we'll be in Baltimore still. I'd love to see Gus, and Linds. When do they get into town?"
Brian glanced at his watch, it was 7:45pm, "uh, they should land in two hours."
"Would it be too late to bring them by the house after you pick them up?" Michael asked and Brian shrugged.
"I'll check with Lindsay and let you know."
Michael and Ben were leaving early the next morning for Baltimore – driving in to spend a long weekend with JR. Lindsay and Gus would be gone back to Vermont before their return to Pittsburgh on Sunday night.
"Yeah I usually go to Deb's Saturday dinners too, but I promised Justin a tour of my new shop and I know he's really excited to see it," Emmett cooed and in that moment, everything stopped.
For Brian, it was as if all sound had been suddenly muted, and all the background distractions faded away into a gray haze. He focused in on Emmett, not quite sure he'd heard the other man correctly.
"Excuse me?" he leaned forward on his forearms, staring hard at Emmett and noticing the deep red blush that was creeping up his neck. He could see Michael, just to his left, staring at them both with wide eyes.
"Oh, uh, nothing," Emmett stuttered, his hand shaking slightly as he lifted his martini glass, spilling more of the drink down his front than what he managed to get into his mouth.
"Emmett," Brian's jaw clenched and his voice rumbled deep in his chest.
"Leave him alone," Michael's hand lighted suddenly on Brian's arm, "come over here."
Brian let Michael pull him towards the dart board; no one was playing at the moment.
"Justin is in town and you didn't tell me," Brian was in shock.
"Fuck no I didn't tell you! You ruined his life. Like I would give you any chance at doing that to him again?"
"Fuck you, Michael," Brian spat, "for your information I've already seen Justin. Twice now."
"You have? When?"
"It doesn't matter. Is he staying at his mother's house? I should go," Brian started towards the door but Michael moved to stand in his path.
"No."
"Get out of my way, Michael," Brian growled but Michael just shook his head.
"He's here with Aaron. You can't just go barging in on him. Jesus, Brian," Michael ran a hand through his hair and threw a glance over at the table where their friends still sat. Brian followed his gaze and saw all of them whispering and looking their direction.
"I just want to make things right," Brian fell against the wall, exhaling deeply feeling suddenly exhausted.
"I'm not sure you can," Michael said, "not with him."
"Why not," Brian stared at his shoes, Prada of course, his voice barely a whisper.
"Because you hurt him badly. You hurt us both badly. But unlike me, he was fucking madly in love with you and when you didn't show up he was devastated. For months. For years! And you did that to him. You can't just say I'm sorry to him and expect it all to be okay. That won't be enough," Michael leaned against the wall next to Brian.
"I need to try, Michael," Brian said and he heard Michael sigh.
"Fine. Just let me tell him you're here. And if he wants to talk to you, he can contact you, But you do not contact him. Got it?"
Brian nodded.
"Look at me," Michael demanded, and Brian raised his eyes.
"I mean it, Brian. You seek him out and we're done. You get no more chances. You leave him alone and let him decide if he wants to see you again. And if he does show up, and if you hurt him again…," Michael shook his head, his face deadly serious, "just pray we don't cross paths again because you'll be very sorry."
Brian picked up Gus and Lindsay from the airport that night, the night before Thanksgiving, and took them straight to The Peterson's. Their flight had been delayed and Lindsay thought it too late to stop by Michael and Ben's.
Brian, distracted by the knowledge that Justin was once again within close proximity, spent the night alone in his hotel room restlessly pacing and wondering if Michael had talked to Justin yet, and what Justin's reaction had been.
The last thing Brian wanted to do, as he watched the sun rise over the city that had been his home for most of his life, was go to the Peterson's. He wanted to see Gus of course, and spend some time with him, but not at the expense of having to tolerate Lindsay's parents, who still rather disliked him. Not at the expense of having to sit through hours upon hours of fucking football. And certainly not when he knew Justin was so close – yet also so far.
The day didn't turn out to be so bad. With Gus there, Lindsay's parents were required to be on their best behavior, and Brian actually found he was having an okay time. His thoughts in his head rotated between thoughts of Justin and where he was and what he was doing, if Michael had told him yet that Brian was in town, and trying to focus on Gus and give him the attention he deserved. In that respect, it was a long day.
At the end of the day, after leaving the Peterson's, Brian stopped by Woody's. The bar was unusually quiet, which surprised Brian. He'd thought it'd be packed full of fags with no place to go and no one to spend the day with. But it wasn't.
Brian sat alone at the bar, nursing a beer that had long grown warm, thinking about what he could say, or do, if Justin were to contact him. Could he make the other man understand his reasons for doing what he did? Was it fair to even ask him to try and understand? He didn't know – and it was making him crazy.
When Emmett suddenly appeared at his side, Brian was surprised. He hadn't expected to see anyone else.
"Shouldn't you be hosting some fabulous party?" Brian asked, taking a sip of his warm beer before pushing it away and indicating to the bartender for another.
"I did. It's over. And I need a fucking drink," Emmet flopped down dramatically onto the stool next to Brian, letting out a breathy sigh.
"I've never worked for such queens, such entitled bitches, in my life," he dropped his head onto his hands and sighed again.
"Rough day then?"
"Oh my God you have no idea," Emmett grasped Brian's forearm tightly, "These two were monsters. Monsters!" Emmett screeched, releasing his hold on Brian and taking the offered martini from the bartender with a huge smile and mouthing 'thank you'.
"I thought I'd seen it all but these two wanted the impossible."
Brian smirked, taking a drink of his new, cold beer.
"Pray, tell me; what brought you here," Emmett asked after taking another drink of his martini.
Shaking his head, Brian shrugged.
"Mmmmmhmmmm," Emmett leveled a gaze at Brian, a knowing look on his face.
"I didn't mean for it to come out like it did," Emmett finally said and Brian shrugged again. What did it matter now?
"And to be honest, if I had my way, I'd never let you see him again."
Brian raised his eyebrows and looked at Emmett for a moment.
"You destroyed him. You broke his spirit," Emmett leaned in and said, quite viciously.
"I know. God I know," Brian grumbled, sick of people reminding him of how badly he'd fucked up. Like he needed any reminding.
"Why did you?"
"Fuck off, Emmett," Brian looked around the bar but there was no escape. Not that he could find an escape from what was truly haunting him, and he resigned himself to another sleepless night.
The two men sat in silence, and Brian wondered how long it'd be before everyone stopped ragging on him. He'd apologized to Michael, the only one other than Justin who had any real reason to be angry with him – it was no one else's business. But he also knew that wasn't how their little family-group worked. Everyone was heavily invested, and cared a great deal – particularly for Justin. Which was fine with Brian; he still was glad the younger man had had everyone to lean on after Brian had broken his heart – but that didn't mean he wanted their editorializing constantly.
Suddenly Brian felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself face to face with one of the most beautiful men he'd ever seen. Certainly not a native of Pittsburgh – more like Greece, or maybe Southern Italy.
Brian let his gaze travel up and down, drinking him in. He was keenly aware of Emmett, sitting so close to him, observing with great interest as well.
"Hi," the stranger purred and Brian felt it reverberate through his entire body.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he added, moving a step closer to Brian and resting his hand high up on Brian's thigh, his thumb stroking the area precariously close to his cock.
Brian's body responded accordingly, and he felt his pants grow tighter as all the blood rushed to his dick.
He wanted to say yes, he wanted to let this gorgeous man buy him a drink. He wanted to take him back to his hotel and fuck him so hard that all thoughts of Justin would leave him.
"Sorry," Brian swallowed hard and couldn't believe he was going to say what he was about to say, "not interested."
The guy stared at him with eyes so dark they seemed to be black holes Brian could easily have fallen into, before he shrugged, "your loss."
He was gone moments later, though Brian's partial hard-on took much longer to deflate.
"What the fuck was that?" Emmett was staring at him with an odd look on his face. "Who are you and what have you done with Brian Kinney?"
"Fuck off," Brian sighed, turning back to the bar and downing the remainder of his beer in three long swallows.
"Seriously," Emmett was no longer teasing in tone, but looking quite seriously concerned. "Are you okay? You're not sick again or something, are you?"
"What the fuck!" Brian yelled, eliciting shocked looks from the few other bar patrons before everyone resumed their conversations and games of pool.
"No, I'm not sick," Brian said through clenched teeth, "I just wasn't interested."
"I've never, ever seen you turn down a guy who looked like that before," Emmett shook hi s head. "Never."
"Yeah, well there's a first time for everything," Brian sighed, tossing a twenty on the bar and leaving without another word.
It was another sleepless night for Brian, and another early morning come far too soon.
Lindsay showed up at the hotel at 8am with Gus in tow. She and her mother were going shopping, and Brian was going to spend the morning with Gus. He and Lindsay planned to meet up at noon at the Liberty Diner and then she was gone.
"What do you want to do today, sonny-boy?" Brian poured another cup of coffee and sipped it. His eyes were heavy and he felt exhausted, yet he knew he'd never be able to fall asleep were he to lie down. He had too many thoughts running through his head, and all of them about a certain younger, blonde man.
"Dunno," Gus shrugged.
"We could go to the zoo, or the aquarium," Brian couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. The zoo? The aquarium? God he was pathetic.
"No," Gus fidgeted and Brian looked at him a little more closely.
"What's up, sonny-boy?" Brian moved to sit next to Gus at the table.
Gus shrugged and Brian felt a ball of nervous energy blossom in his stomach. Something was bothering the kid and Brian had a distinct feeling he wouldn't like whatever it was.
"What is it, Gus?" Brian prodded, gently. He wanted his son to feel free to talk to him, about anything. He didn't want Gus to ever have to hide himself from him. Not like Brian had hidden himself from his parents.
"It's just…most kids have two sets of grandparents. And I only have one…," Gus stared at his hands which were folded in his lap.
Shit.
Of all the things Brian thought were upsetting Gus, the fact that he was short two grandparents hadn't even been in the top 100, hell the top 1,000, possibilities.
"Can we go visit them?" Gus asked and for a brief moment Brian thought he might throw up.
"They're dead, Gus," Brian responded slowly.
His mother, Saint Joan as he liked to call her, had died in 2009 and Brian hadn't come back for the funeral. He'd left it all for his sister, signing over his share of the inheritance (what little there was after the debts were paid) to Claire. He hadn't spoken to his sister since. He wasn't even sure she still lived in Pittsburgh.
"I know," Gus shifted in his chair again before looking at Brian out of the corner of his eye, "but can we go see their graves?"
This was definitely not what Brian had expected Gus to say. But if Gus wanted, or needed, to find out more about where he'd come from, Brian would indulge him, no matter how repulsive he might find the task.
"Sure sonny-boy," Brian nodded and took another sip of his coffee.
An hour later he and Gus were standing at the Kinney headstone. Brian had never seen it. He hadn't visited the grave once after his father passed (aside from the funeral, but the headstone hadn't been installed yet) and he hadn't come back after his mother's death either. It was simple, at least simple for what he'd thought his mother would chose. There was a large cross in the middle, Jack and Joan's names and birth and death dates on either side.
Loving parents, was engraved beneath the cross, in the middle, and there was a fresh bundle of flowers, Gerber Daisies if Brian was to guess, on the grass beneath the headstone and he deduced his sister must still be around. He had never understood her loyalty to their parents. They had been awful and cruel to her almost as much as they'd been to Brian – yet she forgave them, and mourned them. Hell, she fucking missed them. It made Brian sick and it was the biggest reason he'd cut off all communication; well, that and the fact that Claire had thought him capable of molesting her son.
"What were they like?" Gus asked after several minutes standing there in silence. "You don't ever talk about them."
Brian wasn't sure how to answer him. He wanted to be honest with Gus, but he didn't want to have to tell him that his grandparents had been abusive, ignorant, and cruel for Brian's entire life. He didn't want Gus to have to deal with that knowledge.
"They were hard-working, stern, and full-blooded Irish," Brian finally settled on saying. Nothing too dangerous with that…
Gus nodded, but Brian could tell he was unsatisfied with the answer.
"I'm sorry Gus, I didn't know them very well. We weren't close," Brian ruffled Gus's hair and smiled when he pulled away with whiney 'stop it, dad'.
Gus was getting older and it was happening too fast; Brian wasn't sure how he was going to handle it when Gus was no longer interested in hanging out with his old man. It kind of broke his heart a little bit because in the years since he'd moved to New York the one consistent thing in his life, the one anchor he had to his tortured reality was Gus. He lived for his son, and it was as much a surprise to Brian as it would be to anyone else who might hear Brian talk about his kid. He loved Gus, more than anything else, more than his own life, and he hated that this moment couldn't be more special for him, he hated that his awful parents had ruined the potential for Brian to feed whatever fantasy Gus might have had about them.
"Didn't your mom ever tell you about them? She knew them, too," Brian asked.
Gus shrugged, "no, she said to ask you."
Fucking Lindsay.
"Well they were regular parents. We did regular things like other, regular families," Brian said, pretty much lying through his teeth and hating himself for it.
Gus nodded and smiled up at Brian, seeming to accept the answer; for the moment anyway. Brian wondered how much longer it'd be before he'd ask again, and how much he could keep hidden from Gus. Because as awful as it was to live through the abuse and neglect and brazen hatred, telling people about it was almost as bad, and Brian never wanted Gus to feel bad for him.
"Ready to go?" Brian asked and when Gus nodded Brian led them back to the rental car and they headed towards the Liberty Diner.
The Liberty Diner was packed, and while Deb was working she didn't have time to chit chat with Brian, Lindsay, or Gus. Lindsay's mother, squirming in her seat for most of the meal, warmed up to the environment a little before she left with Lindsay and Gus in tow. Debbie reaffirmed their plans to have dinner the following day before they parted ways.
Brian, the rest of the day free, went back to his hotel and attempted to rest. He was emotional drained and physical exhausted. He hadn't had more than a few hours sleep since learning Justin was in town, and it was beginning to catch up to him.
Four hours later he woke up, sweaty and nauseated. He'd slept too long, and now felt even worse than before.
Changing his clothes he headed to the hotel gym and proceeded to lift some weights and run a few miles on the treadmill in hopes it would improve his mood. It was partially successful – at least he no longer felt sick. But he was still restless; still feeling anxious and the last thing he wanted to do was sit around his hotel room with nothing but work, or television to distract him. He was not in the right frame of mind for either.
Calling Ted, Brian was disappointed to hear that he and Blake were busy, and though he invited Brian to come out with them to Babylon that night, Brian declined. He hadn't gone out to a club in years, and he wasn't all that interested in returning to Babylon. There were too many memories wrapped there, and if Brian ended up departing Pittsburgh having not seen Justin at all, he didn't want any memories of the club, new or old, to accompany him.
Showering, he stalked around his hotel room for another hour or so, texting a few times with Sean just to see how the other man was doing. He had gone back to his hometown in upstate New York for the holiday, the first time since he'd come out as gay right after he'd graduated college. Brian was glad to hear things were going okay on that front. Sean was his friend, and for no other reason than that Brian had really hoped the other man's family would be more accepting now that some time had passed; apparently it had been pretty awful in the months following his admission.
Finally, unable to stand being cooped up in his hotel any longer, Brian headed back out to Woody's. It was the one place on Liberty Avenue he still felt comfortable.
The crowd was thin, as it had been the night before, but though small they were livelier. Brian sat alone at the bar, once again nursing a beer while he thought about all the things that had happened to bring him to this moment. All the pain he'd caused, probably (or rather most certainly) unnecessarily, and all the misery he'd inflicted upon people he'd proclaimed to care about. He actually wished he could go back and tell his younger self not to be such a fucking dick – and to go to the premiere and to support Justin and Michael. Things might not have ended up much different – he and Justin may still not have worked out – but everyone, himself included, might have been much happier had he made that choice instead.
Beginning to feel like a pathetic old man, living and obsessing over his past because his present was nothing but misery and pain, Brian had decided to head back to the hotel when he was shocked by the sight of Justin walking into the bar.
Seeing him in Boston, and in New York, had been surprising, and stimulating, and had stirred many old feelings but seeing him walk into Woody's, like he had so many fucking times before, was like going back in time. Suddenly it was ten years ago, and Brian and Justin were one in the same; a package unit. They went to Woody's together, they went to Babylon together, they went home together and fucked each other for hours before falling asleep together. Sometimes still sweaty and sticky from the night's efforts.
It all came back in huge, cresting waves, knocking Brian, proverbially, off his feet. He was well and truly fucked, and he was realizing that this might be his last chance. If he couldn't get Justin to listen to him in a place that held so many memories, so much history for them, then he would never get Justin to listen.
"Hi," Justin was in front of him now – at eye level since Brian was still seated at the bar.
"Hey," Brian eyed him nervously, uncertain of how to read the expression on Justin's face. He seemed…annoyed? Obligated? Like maybe he didn't want to be there or be talking to Brian at all?
"Michael said you were in town," Justin moved and sat at the bar next to Brian, ordering a ginger ale from the bartender, "he said you wanted to see me."
Brian nodded.
"So?"
"Did you track me down here?" Brian asked and when Justin shrugged Brian just smiled.
Justin was trying so hard to keep his walls up, Brian could tell. He was resistant, and a part of Brian felt invigorated by the challenge, because if Justin felt the need to protect himself it only signaled to Brian that he still felt something. And that was all Brian needed to know to spur him on. He wasn't sure it would go anywhere, that Justin would decide to ditch Adam or Aiden or whoever the hell for Brian; but Brian also knew it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that he might.
"I don't have all night," Justin said, gripping the glass of ginger ale in his hand. Once again Brian noted the ring.
"What's this," he extended a finger, tapping the ring and hearing a soft "clink" as it collided with the glass in Justin's hand.
It was a scene reminiscent of the last time Brian saw Justin with jewelry on his finger – and he saw the same memory echo in Justin's surprised expression.
"It's a promise ring," he said softly, moving his hands out of Brian's reach, "Aaron gave it to me earlier this year. The Supreme Court will be ruling next year on the constitutionality of Proposition 8 in California, and once they overturn it we plan to have a ceremony," Justin said.
"Oh," Brian bit his lower lip, nodding. He'd heard the same thing, about the Supreme Court and Prop 8; he'd also heard the Defense of Marriage Act might also be overturned. He didn't share Justin's optimism that it was a done deal, however.
"So you love this guy? Aiden?"
"It's Aaron. And yes," Justin gave a soft laugh. "What do you want, Brian? Are you just going to sit here and tease me because I still want to get married, and be happy, and live a life with someone?"
"I thought you'd changed. At least you seemed different the last two times I'd seen you. And Michael and Emmett both said you seemed different to them as well. But right now you're acting just as you always used to – like a dick. So what do you want? Just tell me so we can get this over with and move on with our lives," Justin's expression was no longer amused, but exasperated.
The chastising had what undoubtedly was the desired effect on Brian – and he felt a little guilty. He didn't want to pick a fight with Justin.
"Can we go somewhere else to talk?" Brian asked, opening his wallet and removing a fifty which was more than enough to cover his two beers and Justin's ginger ale.
"Can't we talk here?" Justin asked.
"I'd rather it be more private," Brian set the bill on the bar top and stood, "we can go back to my hotel."
"No," Justin suddenly looked panicked and Brian chuckled.
"I'm not going to attack you. I won't even touch you. I promise," Brian stared at Justin, willing him to see he meant it. Finally, after a very long silence – what felt like minutes but was probably only 30 seconds or so – Justin nodded.
"This is nice," Justin eyed the living room of the suite as Brian took his coat and threw it over the back of one of the chairs at the table. The doors to the bedroom were closed, thankfully. It was a nice room. Just inside the short hallway was the small kitchen and dining area, and across the room was the living area, with a sofa, an armchair, and television armoire. There were four large floor to ceiling windows, and a mini bar opposite that.
"Can I get you a drink?" Brian asked, moving to the mini bar and pouring a shooter of Beam into a glass.
"No," Justin shook his head, "I don't drink anymore."
Brian stared at him for a long moment before nodding. He had a distinct feeling the reason Justin didn't drink anymore had to do with him, and he suddenly didn't want to know how bad it had been for Justin.
"So we're here. It's about as private as it can get. So again I ask, what do you want?"
Faced with it, suddenly it was harder for Brian to find the words. He felt hot, and uncomfortable, and strange. Almost like he was outside his own body, watching himself move around but powerless to really control what happened next.
He downed the Beam from his glass and motioned to the sofa in the living area, moving there and sitting.
Justin followed, but he sat in the armchair and stared at Brian with an expectant expression.
How was he supposed to do this? How did he start? He felt like an idiot, and the heat from Justin's stare only amplified the feeling. The last thing he wanted to do was make things worse and if he said all the things he wanted to say, it might do just that. He might end up hurting Justin, and angering Mikey, and losing any of the little goodwill he'd built up the last few days. But he also couldn't sit on his own feelings anymore – he'd go insane if he didn't at least try, as hard as it was going to be, and as terrifying as it would be…
"I'm sorry," he blurted, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
"I'm sorry for not coming to California, I'm sorry for not calling or talking to you after, I'm sorry I ever made the choices I made. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm just fucking sorry," Brian spoke earnestly, and held Justin's blue-eyed gaze.
"Better late than never?" Justin said with a hint of sarcasm and Brian involuntarily smiled.
"Michael said that same thing," Brian replied. Only Michael had meant it, he hadn't been seething with, what exactly? Justin didn't look any less angry or expectant than before. In fact, Brian would say he looked even more enraged.
"Do you want me to forgive you? Is that what this is? Do you want me to say that it's okay that you left me out there, alone and lonely without a single reason?"
"No-," Brian started but when Justin jumped up from the chair he cut himself off, following the other man with his eyes as he paced back and forth in front of him.
"I don't know if I can forgive you. I want to know why you did what you did, but that doesn't mean I'm going to suddenly jump back in your arms, or declare that I've only been biding my time waiting. You practically killed me, Brian. I may have been alive, but I wasn't living. I hated myself and I hated my life. And it was because of you. You made me feel completely, fucking worthless."
Justin stopped pacing and stood, panting and staring at Brian. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright and wild.
"Okay," Brian finally said.
"Okay?"
Justin stared at him with incredulity.
"That's it? Jesus Brian! Just fucking talk!" Justin yelled his hands balled into fists at his side.
"I thought you needed to be let go. I thought you needed to be on your own, given your own life to live, your own interests to pursue. I didn't want you to feel obligated to me. Because I knew you would. You wouldn't let yourself enjoy your time out there if you were pining away for me."
"Oh my God, you really are as narcissistic as everyone always said," Justin laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Believe it or not, Brian, but my happiness didn't revolve around you. Yes, you were part of what made me happy but I wouldn't have been living in Los Angeles 'pining away for you', as you seem to think. I did have an identity outside of you, even back then when I should have known better than fall in love with a fucking man-child."
"Well you asked me why. That was why," Brian groused, starting to feel angry with Justin's seething judgment. He might have deserved it back then, but he was trying to make things right…as Justin had said moments earlier, better late than never.
"Well thanks for telling me I guess," Justin sighed loudly.
"I honestly thought I wanted to know. I thought it might make these lingering feelings go away. And I just don't…I don't know how to feel about any of this anymore. I'm just so tired of it. This," Justin indicated between he and Brian, "has been hanging over me for years and I want it done with."
Brian nodded. He understood, he really did – but he feared Justin's version of being "done with it" didn't jive with Brian's. Because Brian wasn't ready to let Justin go – even though that had been the entire point of not going to LA all those years ago. But the goal then had been to give Justin his freedom, nothing he'd done had been because he hadn't cared.
"You know my dad died last year," Justin spoke, his tone wistful. "He'd had a massive heart attack in his office and was gone before the paramedics even got there. And the thing I regret most about the whole situation is that we never spoke again after the whole Prop 8 thing. After he had me arrested outside his store I never saw him again. And whether it would have made a difference or not, I sometimes wish I could just ask him why he hated me – why it mattered to him who I loved. How did my sex life have anything to do with him? I wish I had been able to close that door."
"You're not equating me to your father, are you," Brian arched his eyebrow and felt his stomach flip when Justin offered him a genuine smile.
"No," he said, "I'm just saying this is about putting you behind me. Like I wish I could have done with my dad."
Brian stared at him, not sure he really believed that.
"So you're just going to go back to California and marry this Aiden guy," Brian leaned back on the sofa.
"Aaron," Justin smirked.
"You're telling me you'll be happy with him? Another fucking violinist?" Brian ignored the name correction and went for the jugular.
Justin's smirk faded and his expression clouded.
"That's not fair," he moved back to the armchair and sat on the edge of the seat, twisting the ring on his finger with his other hand.
"You don't get to put this on me," Justin's tone had dropped a level, "what happened was entirely your fault. You had a million chances to make things right and you never did. So you don't get to judge me or my decisions now."
"I asked you to move in with me," Brian said, "I asked you to move in, and you tell me instead that you're moving to Los Angeles. In what world was that fair? This is as much your fault as mine."
"You seriously believe that?" Justin stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. "That's bullshit. It was my life, I had the freedom to decide what I wanted to do with it."
"But you decided to go to Los Angeles, for months, without even asking me about it!" Brian yelled, jumping to his feet and taking his turn around the room. He hadn't realized it, but the root of it all was this very thing. Justin had made a major life decision that would impact them both, and he hadn't included Brian in any part of that decision.
"I asked you to move in with me and you fucking told me you were going to California!" Brian repeated, a little quieter this time.
"Why didn't you even ask me?" Brian looked at Justin then, feeling desperately alone and lost.
"Ask you? Why? When did you ever ask me about the decisions you made in your life?" Justin stood then. "You didn't ask me when you were going to move to New York."
"That's not the same," Brian scowled, "I had barely known you for a few months. The LA thing was nearly four years later! Four years of being with you, and caring and-," Brian stopped himself. He wasn't going to say it, not if Justin was still going to walk out the door. He couldn't have those words out there, spoken and free without a way to take them back, if the man on the receiving end of them was not by his side.
"And what?" Justin's eyes were slightly wide, and his voice breathy.
"Nothing," Brian grumbled, moving back to the minibar and pouring another shooter of Beam into a glass and downing it in one swallow.
"Do you love him?" Brian asked, his back to Justin as he stared at the bottom of his empty glass.
"Yes," Justin stated and Brian could hear the certainty in his voice.
Turning to face him, ready to wish him the best and let him go for good, he paused when he saw something of a pained look cross Justin's features. It was strange, because while Brian could hear the commitment to his declarative answer in his voice, nothing of his body language mirrored it. He looked terrified, like a kid who'd been caught peeking at his Christmas gifts ahead of time.
Suddenly Brian felt bold – and he moved quickly, crossing the room in three long strides before stopping just a few feet away from Justin. They stared at each other and Brian knew he wasn't imagining the yearning look in Justin's eyes. It was a look he'd known so well, many years ago.
"You could stay here tonight," Brian whispered.
"No," Justin shook his head, "my mother would wonder where I was."
"Not Aiden?"
"Aaron. And no. He had to go back to Boston this morning," Justin breathed.
Brian took a step closer and Justin visibly stiffened.
"You promised," he whispered and Brian smiled.
"I'm not touching you," he breathed.
"Stay. We can talk some more. I think-," Brian paused, rolling his lips in his mouth, "I think we should try this again."
Justin's eyebrows shot up.
"Try this…no," he took a step back shaking his head, "no, no, no, no."
Hands in his hair, Justin spun around and walked to where his coat lay over the back of a chair.
"I need to go," he grabbed it but before he could put it on Brian was by his side, his hand on his forearm.
"Please don't marry him," Brian whispered and when Justin looked up at him his eyes were wet.
"What happened to you?" Justin replied his eyes searching Brian's face. "Why couldn't you have realized this sooner! When I wasn't in a relationship! Shit!"
Brian had to agree, his timing was for shit. But he also knew that had he not seen Justin in Boston and then again in New York, that he'd never have contacted him on his own. He'd been content, or accepting rather, of living his life ignoring the one thing missing - Justin.
"I didn't know," Brian tried to explain, "I hadn't realized…"
"What? That you only want what you can't have?" Justin pulled his arm out of Brian's grasp and backed away towards the door, pulling on his coat.
"Jesus! Stop! Please don't leave," Brian felt desperate now – certain that when Justin walked out the door he would be walking out of Brian's life, forever.
Justin stood at the door staring back at Brian expectantly.
"Why not? We're done Brian," Justin answered, the mask he'd been wearing at the start of the night back in place, and this time Brian believed him. Justin was done with him, or at least he believed it.
"Just...because-," Brian took a deep breath and before he could second guess himself he said it – he played his last card and could only hope it was enough, "I love you."
Justin's eyebrows rose slightly and his face registered his obvious surprise. A silence that seemed endless to Brian settled between them before Justin started laughing.
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Justin shook his head, one hand flying to his hair where he absently twisted and pulled at it. Brian recognized the gesture – and it gave him hope because if Justin was really done with him as he had proclaimed, he wouldn't be here still. He'd have heard Brian's declaration and gone. He certainly wouldn't be betraying his own emotional turmoil with his 'tell'.
Brian only nodded and shrugged and tried desperately to keep his emotions in check.
"How can you love me? You don't even know me anymore. I doubt you ever knew me," Justin stared at Brian with a piercing glare, but he had let go of the door handle and had taken a few steps back into the suite. Brian took that as a good sign.
"I never stopped. I loved you before you left, and I went on loving you after you were gone. And now, I still love you – probably more than before," Brian felt his neck and cheeks flush hot as he stumbled over his words, cognizant of Justin's proximity, and stare, and everything. Cognizant of how he'd never, not once, said such things to another person. Not ever.
"It's too late," Justin replied softly, no longer laughing, and staring at Brian with a bizarre expression that appeared more pitying than anything else.
"Because of Aaron?" Brian scoffed, disbelieving, using the other man's proper name this time. But he regretted his tone as Justin sighed and moved back towards the door.
"Stop. I don't mean...I'm...fuck! I'm sorry," Brian moved towards Justin, grabbing his arm to keep him from going.
"Brian. Let me go," Justin whispered and Brian saw genuine pain and regret in his expression. He ignored the growing wetness in Justin's eyes while basking in the bright blue shine of them.
"No," Brian stepped closer, feeling braver and unable to stop the pure, animalistic magnetism Justin brought out of him. If this was it – the real end of everything, he had to have one last memory.
"Please," Justin breathed. His breath was warm against Brian's face as he moved closer still.
"No," Brian repeated, his head lowering and moving ever closer to Justin's. He wanted to taste him, he needed it like air and he wasn't sure he could stop even if he wanted too.
"Bri-," Justin started but Brian didn't let him finish, pressing his lips against Justin's, softly, but when Justin immediately responded, he increased pressure and intensity.
Brian raised his hands, threading his fingers through Justin's hair as his mouth moved, sense memory taking over. Brian thought he might die from how good it felt. It was truly like drinking water after years wandering the desert without. He felt himself getting drunk on it, the pure euphoria that the feel of Justin's lips against his brought him making him light headed and high.
They panted and breathed as their mouths reunited, Brian's hands never leaving Justin's hair while he felt Justin's hands gripping and clawing at his back, pulling him closer.
Then, suddenly, his hands were pressed to Brian's chest and he was shoving him away, hard.
"Stop," he panted. His face was flushed, his lips were swollen, and his eyes were dark pools of pupils dilated with lust and desire. Brian didn't allow his gaze to wander south of the border. He didn't want to know if Justin was aroused, but he really didn't want to know if he wasn't.
"I need to go," Justin stared at Brian for a moment before he moved back to the door.
"That's it?" Brian asked and Justin sighed, turning to door.
"Please...don't...," Justin's back was to him, his head lowered and his voice a whisper, "please don't contact me."
Then he was gone and Brian was left alone with the pain of what he'd lost, again, fresh upon his lips and fresh upon his memory.