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3 - Weathering Kane
Brian and Justin’s POV
Rated R
******************
Brian
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…eh, he probably didn’t hear it.
Then his hips stop, his breath catches, his body tenses…he heard it. Fuck,
fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. But, then his hips thrust back into me his body starts
to writhe again and he gasps a breathy “Fuck me already” as I kneel behind him
with wide eyes and hands firmly planted on his hips.
I slowly start to move in him again, but now it is so different because I can’t
push Justin’s face out of my head. I can’t even differentiate between what my
mind is creating and what I’m actually doing. I often blur the lines between
fact and fiction, but it’s usually due to the intentional intake of
mind-altering substances. I guess in this case fact and fiction work as a team.
While I know it’s Kane beneath me, I need to believe he’s Justin before I can
continue.
The fact that Kane didn’t miss a beat is throwing me off my game. He didn’t
freak out or get upset or anything. Justin would have…well, never mind that.
My mind is so clouded. I’ve never called his name before. What the fuck was
that? I literally shake my head from side to side, trying to dislodge him from
my thoughts. Finish this Kinney; it’s just a fuck.
Mindless humping, faked grunting and numb sensations fill the room. I so very
rarely have sex turn out to be something unpleasant that when it does I feel
particularly disgusted. It is going to take everything I have to come and get
him out of here without losing it.
What the fuck have I let that kid do to me? I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I’m FUCKING a hot guy and thinking about him. It’s been two months, and not a
word. Not a single, solitary word. He’s gone. Get the fuck over it Kinney.
Justin
At first I don’t even know what I’ve said, I didn’t catch it myself. Listening
to what pours from my mouth during sex would be like trying to decipher Morse
code (I don’t know Morse code). It isn’t until he stops mid-thrust, raises his
head and clenches his jaw that I catch it. My breath stops somewhere halfway
between my lips and my lungs. My eyes widen and my body sort of melts away from
his.
I slink back to the corner of the bed and wait, clutching my knees to my chest
and shaking my head. I open my mouth to explain…to say something, say anything,
but he shakes his head. The motion is so slow and deliberate that it makes me
realize he could kill me right now. Or cry. I’m not sure which, and I don’t
know that I care to find out.
We sit locked in a trance for what feels like days. The room gets cold and his
heart gets hard. I start to think about how many people I’ve hurt. It started
with my parents; both of them, in their own ways they were crushed just by who
I am. And then Brian. God, he’s the reason I’m sitting here…crumbled like a broken,
half-man in the corner of this makeshift bed, unsure whether I’ll make it out
alive. But don’t get me wrong, I brought this on myself. I know I did. I
deserve this punishment. Now Ethan, sweet Ethan, all he did was walk into my
life at the worst possible moment. All he did was fall in love with a boy who
could never love him back. Not in the same way. Not with the same passion. And
I know exactly how that feels…
He’ll never be first and he knows it. He’ll never be my only and he knows it.
He’ll never be my great love, and he knows it. The irony is that I’ve become
Brian in this situation. I’m here, I’m present, I’m with him everyday. But I
hide part of myself away. I keep a portion of myself from Ethan. I have a chunk
of my heart over which I have no control; it lives somewhere else. In a loft
across town. I refuse to reclaim it. I refuse to give it to Ethan. So he only
gets part of me, a broken part.
He moves slowly, rocks up onto his heels in a sort of squat. Then he leans
forward on all fours and crawls close to me. As he approaches, I stop breathing
altogether and I feel my blood actually begin to race inside of my veins.
Surging through every inch of skin, going faster and faster, looking for a way
out of my body. He gets right in my face: “I am NOT Brian. I won’t ever be
Brian. I don’t ever want to be Brian. I’m better than him and we both know it.
But if he’s what you want, and clearly he is, then get…the fuck…out.” His words
are stern and quiet and cold. They make me gulp hard as my eyes fill with
tears. He has no idea how much like Brian he is right now.
The thing is, I want to jump up and yell and scream and plead with him to let
me stay. Tell him it was a slip-up, an old habit, a complete mistake. But
that’s all complete bullshit and we both know it. No sense in wasting my breath
or his time. Once again, I’ve done enough damage.
I slip out of bed as Ethan rolls onto his back and stares blindly at the
ceiling. I get dressed quickly, pack up my art supplies and grab my sketchpad.
I have other things here, but we’ll have to deal with them later. Luckily, my
transient life has left me without too many belongings, which makes it easy to
flee when I leave places abruptly. Which happens more often than not these
days. I’m not even sure I’m leaving for good, not sure what I’m doing at all.
Uncertainty is becoming a theme in my life.
I
hit the bottom landing of the stairwell in Ethan’s building and I look up.
Watch as the flights of stairs ascend up and up as far as I can see. I can feel
him watching me. I know he’s there at the doorway, peeking through the railing,
having watched me walk out of his apartment, maybe out of his life. That he
cares enough to watch me walk away should be enough to make me stay. But,
something tells me nothing would ever be enough; no one will ever be enough. No
one except…
Why am I so fucked up? Why can’t I figure out what I want? I told myself for a
long time after I left that Brian had royally fucked with my head and I just
needed time to straighten myself out. To straighten my life out and get things
back together. That was total bullshit. My last ounce of clarity must be hiding
under some of Brian’s overly-expensive Italian furniture because I sure as fuck
can’t find it. My brain is more clouded and mucked up now than it ever was when
I was with him.
Where do you have to go when you start at the top? Most people date shits until
they figure out what they do and don’t want, what is and isn’t good for them.
With me, I started out with the most amazing and intense and challenging
relationship I’ll probably ever have. I won’t love anyone like I loved Brian. I
won’t want anyone like I wanted Brian. My heart will never ache for anyone the
way it aches for Brian.
I start to walk down the street. For the first few blocks I seem to be walking
aimlessly, but then it occurs to me that my feet have a very specific
destination in mind.
Brian
His moans make me want to scream “SHUT UP!” but I stay silent and ride out this
self-induced torture. I let my eyes close and my mind blank until I hear those
familiar, deep, guttural moans begin to escape his lips. Like so many men
before him, I’ve made him come without even touching him. He jerks quick and
hard as I hold his hip to ride out the wave. The tight grasp of his muscles
around my dick are enough to get me there. My hips rock forward and come fills
the condom that encases my quickly flaccid dick and warms the tip.
I pull out of him and immediately get off the bed. I go into the bathroom, shut
the door behind me, step into the shower and let the steaming hot water
saturate my body. I let my expensive French soap lather and lather and lather
until the bar is nearly gone. I breathe in the hot, moist air as my brain
starts to formulate a plan. I feel like I can actually think clearly for the
first time in months.
The Fiddler is Fucked. That is officially the name of my scheme. Okay, so I can
live without the kid. Maybe I just don’t want to. Okay, so I really don’t want
to. I care about him. A lot. I’m not giving up this easily. I need him here. At
home. With me. That’s all very romantic sounding, isn’t it? Makes my stomach
churn, actually.
He loves me. He doesn’t love the fiddler. Justin will never feel about anyone
the way he does about me. This should be an easy battle to win. He’s had two
months to see that life without Brian sucks. It has to suck. I hear his place
is a shithole and his lover isn’t all he’s cracked up to be (word travels fast
in Queerville, especially if you know the right people.)
With newfound conviction, I get out of the shower. I feel better already. I
prepare myself for a night on the town, even though I won’t be going anywhere
near a club, I need to look good for tonight’s agenda.
I fling the bathroom door open and walk, naked and still dripping wet, into my room.
I find Kane sitting on the bed, dressed in his tailored navy suit, staring at
me. I guess in a way I expected him to be gone. Sure he’s a stranger in this
town, but any idiot can hail a cab. I look at him exasperatedly as his stare
continues, “What?” The word comes out even harsher than I intended.
“Brian, you can talk to me. I know where you are. I was there.”
I don’t know if I want to punch his front teeth in or hug him. Definitely more
of the former so I grit my teeth and try not to sound as desperate as I feel.
“I…” I have to speak, have to explain things to him. But really there is
nothing to say. He’s nothing more than a business contact, a virtual stranger.
Probably an account I just lost.
“I’m in my bedroom, that’s where I am.” I flip through the clothes in my closet
as nonchalantly as possible.
“Don’t Brian…not with me.” His calm eyes and soft words actually touch me in
some way. I suddenly feel warmth toward him, and that alarms me. Pisses me off
really.
“Don’t what? You don’t know me. I just fucking met you today. I wanted to fuck,
and we did. Game over. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” My air of indifference
is apparent. My Brian-defenses are in full swing. Wall up, emotions safe,
asshole-mode going full force.
He calmly adds, “Can you at least drive me back? I don’t feel like taking a
cab.” I want him out, but I owe him at least that. This bizarre series of
events was, in no small way, completely orchestrated by me.
I nod slightly and start to pick through my closet again. Standard ‘fuck me’
jeans and Justin’s favorite, but rarely-seen, black shirt should be about
right.
I dress quickly and motion to Kane that it’s time to go. I turn to him again,
considering taking back some of the things I said, but no words come.
He nods at me, picking up his jacket, “I know you Brian. I am you. I have a
Justin. But, it’s too late for me. Go after him. You’ll regret it if you
don’t.”
Suddenly I want to scream “you don’t know shit about me” and kick him out. When
he said ‘Justin’, when he let the name roll off of his tongue, I thought I
might be sick. But I bite my lip instead and lower my eyes to the floor.
Defeated by the truth, I grab my keys from the counter and slide the steel door
open. I silently hope that I won’t be coming back here alone.
Justin
I guess our lives are better left to chance. I wished for weeks and weeks that
I'd never known you. Wish we'd never met. Prayed my memory could forget you.
Hoped for amnesia. Now I realize that as bad as this has felt, as horrible and
low and desperate and wretched I've become over you...I wouldn't trade the time
we had. I can't forget who you made me, Brian. What you did to me. How you
changed me and pushed me and challenged me and even loved me. Even if you’d
never admit any of it. Even if you don’t care.
Not a day goes by I don't think about you, despite my best efforts not to. You
left this deep, permanent mark on me that I can't wash clean. Like a tattoo
that I don't want. A Brian Kinney brand I hide from the world. I catch myself
admiring it, secretly, in the mirror sometimes and it sickens me.
With thoughts reeling and my heart racing, I round the corner near the loft in
record time. I stop half a block short of our building, his building…whatever.
I stare up at the windows I know so well. Windows through which I used to watch
the sunrise. Windows through which I used to watch storms brew. Windows through
which I used to wish on falling stars. Windows that are dark now. I bet he
isn’t even home. What the fuck am I even doing here?
Breathe Justin, just breathe.
Okay, I can do this. I can walk in there. Literally. I still have my key and I
doubt he’s changed the alarm. I could write him a letter. No, I could wait for
him. In bed. Naked. Yes. That could work. Wait, no, what the fuck am I thinking?
He would kick me out. He would scream at me. He could come home with a trick.
That’s such a Brian thing to do, use sex as a way to mend things. Fuck, I think
I’m going to be sick. No, I’ll just talk to him. Just talk. Of course, words
always were our biggest problem.
I lean over and breathe deeply. I’m feeling a bit nauseous, but it’s nothing I
can’t swallow. I try to collect my thoughts, try to work out a plan. Try to
think about what this will be like. The problem is that I can’t call Brian’s
cards. I can’t predict how he’ll react. Walking in there is a complete gamble.
Will I live to tell the story if I risk my heart on Brian Kinney one more time?
Suddenly, the front door to the building swings open and he emerges - it shocks
me, but not really. Like magnets drawn together, moths to a flame, the
thirsting to water...our bodies find each other. In that second I feel warmed
by his proximity, I can feel how easy it would be to love him again.
Brian
Coming out, the numbness is a bizarre awakening, unlike anything I’ve ever
experienced. I have worked hard to feel nothing for so long. I bound down the
stairs with my newfound conviction, letting a soft smile creep across my lips.
Kane has to run to catch up as I skip numerous stairs all the way down. I reach
the metal door, the only thing between who I am now and who I am about to
become. I can do this. I can be what he needs. I have to.
I stand for a moment, waiting for Kane to catch up. Despite his being bizarrely
calming, I can’t get him out of my presence fast enough. I look up at the sky;
a storm is brewing. The clouds are moving fast, swirling together, forming
objects in the sky. If Justin were here, he’d point out to me what he saw in
the clouds. Such a child-like activity. So innocent and pure. It always drove
me crazy the way he insisted that I look up at each figure he found in the
clouds and acknowledge that it was, in fact, exactly what he saw; a clown, a
horseshoe, Santa and his sleigh.
Kane finally reaches the door and is right behind me. As he emerges, I turn to
acknowledge him before heading to the jeep. In that moment he grabs me and
asks, “Brian, do you know what you’re going to say to him?” He says it in a
pressing way, intimating that this is something I haven’t considered carefully enough.
His vocalization of my thoughts sends a shiver down my spine. I hate that he
does actually have some insight. I shake off his arm and bite my lips, “That
isn’t for you to worry about.” I say it coolly to let him know this is NOT a
subject that is open for discussion.
Then he wraps his hand around my neck and pulls me in to kiss him. I’m so
confused by the quick action I can hardly resist the hard press of his lips to
mine. It suddenly feels like kissing Mikey. Like kissing a friend. Not at all
like kissing someone I just fucked. I pull back, bewildered by the mix of
emotions surging inside of me. I furrow my eyebrows a bit, “Don’t kiss me.
Don’t ever kiss me.”
I say it more quietly than threateningly. It’s not like Kane knew the rules.
But I want him to follow them anyway.
Justin
Who the fuck is that? Oh my god, he’s with Brian. He’s touching Brian. I bet
they just fucked. Fuck me. He isn’t ever going to change. He’s always going to
be…fuck! Just what he is. It’s all he can ever be. I think I changed him? I’m
such an idiot. I think he loved me? How could I be so stupid? Fuck, fuck, fuck,
fuck. Oh god, I’m going to be sick.
The rain starts to come now. It’s soft at first, but grows stronger by the
second. They start to walk away from the building toward Brian’s jeep and I
lean against the wall I wasn’t even aware was behind me.
I look up long enough to see them lock lips. That’s it. I lose it. I can’t take
this anymore. What he does to me, what he does to my heart, it’s unbearable. I
double over and clutch my stomach as the bile surges inside of me.
The rain is swirling all around me when I start to vomit. The rain and puke mix
on my face and on the ground and I can’t tell which warm fluid is which. I’m
just sort of glad the rain is there to fill my ears and eyes and wash away this
evidence. To wash away the proof of the affect he has on me.
When I can catch my breath I stand up and clutch my gut. Clutch my heart. I
don’t know which hurts worse at the moment. I turn to run away. Run fast and far
in the exact opposite direction of Brian Kinney. I have no idea what the fuck I
was thinking. No idea what I thought I was doing here. Then I hear him…
Brian
After I say it, I push Kane off a bit and kind of shrug. I’ve offended him so
many times tonight I suppose there is no reason to stop now and no need to
offer an explanation. He looks at me again with that knowing smirk. The one
that makes me tingle in a not-so-nice way. I clench my jaw at him as I shake
the keys that I’ve been gripping too tightly in my palm.
“Come on,” I nod toward where I’m parked as the rain starts to fall, kissing my
face and moistening my shirt. I look up to see what I can see in the dark,
brooding clouds and as my eyes fall back to earth I catch sight of him. At
first I’m sure I’m delusional, but it only takes a quick gaze at Kane, staring
at him in the same way I am, to let me know he is no mirage.
Justin is across the street, doubled over. Looks like he’s sick. What is he
doing? Why is here? Why is he sick? What’s wrong with him? Oh my god, did he
see me with…
Fuck.
“Justin!”
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