Why was he seeing someone else? Brian sat on the edge of the bed, thinking. Justin was seeing someone else. Justin was trusting someone else. Justin was loving someone else. It almost made him sick. He took another drink.
I shouldn't have to tell you I care about you. You should know it. You should know when I show you. I didn't think you'd leave me. I thought you were mine. I thought you knew that I would always be with you. You found you're way here. Why is that when I tried to push you away, you wouldn't go, and now that you're leaving, I don't want you to go?
He heard the door open and stepped out of the darkened bedroom, steeling himself. He would have to show Justin that he still held claims to his heart, and that his Sunshine couldn't forget that. That he was a fucking little twat for leaving him and an asshole for not telling him.
If you leave me—You've never seen the lonely me. I wasn't lonely or alone when we met, but now….now I don't know. I don't know how I'll feel if you go. You've wormed your way in here, who knows what tunnels will collapse if you leave. You shouldn't leave. You're mine. The moment I said "I want you to always remember this," you were mine.
Justin was humming some obnoxious piece of music. He tossed his scarf away and stopped, startled, when he saw Brian. "Jesus, Brian." He looked embarrassed, scared. "I thought you were bowling."
Brian raised his glass. "Three cheers to the winners."
"Way to go!"
"Wasn't us." And definitely wasn't me.
"Oh." He began to walk toward the bedroom. Brian stepped closer, grabbing him gently around the waste. I know. Justin resisted, pulling away, pushing at him.
"Where you going?"
He twisted away. "Take a shower."
Brian wasn't going to let him get away that easy. He held on, manhandling Justin, making it hard for him. Anger, jealousy clutched at his gut, turned his skin to fire. "Sure are taking a lot of showers lately."
"Huh." Justin wriggled out of his grip, but he grabbed his arm.
"C'mere."
"Later." No. You're mine.
"Now."
Justin tapped his face with an open palm. Brian fought the simultaneous urges to lean into it and to recoil in anger. "Cant we please do this after I shower?"
Brian scoffed and tightened his grip, pulling Justin in. "I like smelling you, not soap." He leaned in a sniffed gently at Justin's face. He felt the minute tensing of Justin's muscles, could smell someone else on Justin, but pretended not to.
He watched Justin's eyes. He knew the look Justin was trying to give him, but the fear in his eyes, the mistrust, the guilt, told him plenty. He knew already, and the blue eyes had just confirmed what he had believed would never happen.
Running a hand across the side of Justin's face, he watched the fear of being caught morph into uncertainty morph into lust in Justin's eyes. He gently lifted his jaw with a thumb.
But the smell of that other man hit him again, and possessiveness took over. Your mine and you know it. He yanked Justin to him, lifting him off the ground and kissing him harshly, tongue fucking him. He moaned into the younger man's mouth. He was always amazed at how fucking good Justin tasted. He could feel Justin's hard on jutting against his thigh, and suddenly there was too much cloth between them. In a smooth movement, Justin's jacket was on the floor.
He stared again at Justin's mouth, panting slightly, ignoring the lustful but frightened stare that was boring into his face. He could feel his lust and his anger twining together. You're mine, and you're not leaving. And if you are, it will be because I made you, not because you decided. You fucking little twat. How come you wouldn't leave then but you're leaving now? Then with a low growl he was devouring Justin's lips again, groaning softly. He tugged at Justin's shirt, pulled away and teased Justin's mouth with the tip of his tongue, just barely there, knowing Justin wanted more. Then he was back on Justin, shoving his shirt up and off, falling on the floor to his knees.
He lowered Justin down to the floor gently. Justin shoved Brian's shirt up, but Brian squirmed away and sat up. So Justin made a move to undo his fly, but Brian slapped his hands away. No. This is my territory. I'm in control here. You're doing nothing. He yanked Justin's fly down, then bent down to kiss him again.
"You like that?"
"Yes." Justin sounded needy, desperate. Good.
Brian kissed him hard, his left hand sliding around to the back of Justin's head grip his hair and gently pull, his right sliding into Justin's jeans. He started kissing Justin's neck, intent of biting him, branding him, grimacing against the strange scent of someone else on Justin's body. He moved back up, away, kissing Justin' jaw and lips again. But then the smell of that other guy was overpowering him, overpowering everything, and he jerked upright, placing his hands on either side of the blonde head, hovering over Justin, who panted, desperately kissing his skin .
"Why'd you stop? Brian?" He stared at Justin, allowing the anger and disbelief to flood his features. Because this is your fault. Because you're a fucking twat for doing this. Because I want you to stay even though I cant say it. Because I know you wont stay. Because he is all over you.
Brian slid down and sniffed Justin's neck, his nose filling with the awful scent of the mystery guy, is eyes still locked with Justin's. He stared into the blue eyes for a moment. "Go take a shower." He slid his hands against the floor as he shifted off of Justin, part of him glorifying in Justin's wince in reaction to both his tone and the shrill sound of his skin against the floor. "You stink."
He got up and walked to the television without looking back at the pale blonde on the floor. He heard Justin sigh and get up, walking to the shower. He grabbed a smoke and lit it, taking a much needed drag.
He shook his head, staring at the black television screen. Why was it that every time he tried to show someone how he felt, it failed? Why didn't they understand his actions meant more than his words? I thought he would never leave. Why did I let myself get fucking comfortable with someone? I should know better than anyone that it always hurts in the end. He took another drag, then stubbed out the finished cigarette, pulling off his clothes and climbing into his bed.
He knew Justin wouldn't join him, and was kind of glad. He hoped it wasn't over, that Justin was still his and not this other guy's. But when Justin came out of the shower in sweatpants and a Tshirt, and didn't even glance Brian's way, his brain told him other wise. Watching the blonde figure curl up on the couch, Brian felt a lightness in his chest, and wasn't sure what it meant. He felt free, awake, solid, but at the same time burdened and dark, closed, hurting; empty.