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5 - Frost Warning
Justin and Brian’s POV
Rated PG-13
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Brian
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I cross the street without looking, a gamble
especially in the rain. But I guess it’s high time I started taking some
fucking risks. I call his name again, “Justin!” He’s already headed away
from me, quickly. What am I going to say? I thought I was ready for this. But
now, as we’re about to be face-to-face, I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t
know if I can say what he needs to hear.
But I keep going, practically running, as I think to myself how insane it is
that I’m chasing this kid down in the rain. Suddenly he stops and doubles over
again. I watch helplessly as he is overcome by nausea, his back heaving and
neck straining as vomit pours out of him onto the street. I slow down, finally
coming to a complete stop. I want so badly to run to him and help him, but I
don’t want to startle him.
When he starts to stand I move in close, sliding my hand onto his rain soaked
back. His little blue cotton jacket is dripping with water. He shrugs me off;
the simple gesture burns me deeply. I take a step back, “Justin…”
“Don’t, Brian.” The combination of those words makes me bite my lip. I know
what he means, I know how he means it, I know why he said it, but I’ll press
him anyway.
“Don’t what?” I have a right to ask. He was standing across the street from MY
loft. The one he walked out of. The one he left me in alone. I want to be
pissed at how he’s acting, but I suddenly feel like I’m the one who’s done
something wrong.
He shakes his head. The rain on his face is hiding the tears. He keeps shaking
it, perhaps unable to continue speaking. Then he holds a hand up toward my
body, the palm of his hand a barrier, a physical representation of how he wants
to keep me at arm’s length. I don’t abide by his wishes though, never have. I
reach up and grab his hand and pull it flush to my heart. I hold it tight to my
chest until the tension finally floods out of his arm and he looks up at me. I
pull him towards me into an impossibly tight embrace. We stand on a broken
sidewalk in the middle of a torrential downpour and it is easy to let the
passersby, the harsh wind, the chilling rain, the roar of an ambulance racing
toward its destination go unnoticed. Because from where I stand it is the curve
of his back, the smell of his hair, the rise and fall of his chest as he cries
into me that has my attention.
He pulls away abruptly. “I won’t do this again. I can’t, Brian. I can’t.” At
the outset the tone of his voice is determined, but ends on a desperate note.
It makes my heart crack and break and fall into little pieces inside of me.
Each little piece cutting organs and veins and spilling blood everywhere. But
all on the inside where no one can see. That’s always how it is with me. All on
the inside, where no one ever sees.
I want to shake him and scream, “You can do it again! We can do it again. We’ll
do it all right this time. We won’t fuck it up. I won’t let us. Because I need
you and you need me.” But I don’t say any of it. I can’t say any of it, or I
won’t. I don’t know which it is anymore, can’t or won’t. Sometimes you hold on
to something so tightly that you forget why you’re doing it, because you’re so
busy worrying about not letting go.
Justin
What the fuck was I thinking? How did I end up over here? How could I have been
so stupid? Fuck, he’s calling my name again. Fuck this, I’m out of here. I try
to catch my breath and I turn to walk in the opposite direction of Brian. I
know I won’t get away from him, but I have to make a show of my efforts to do
so.
I get a half block away at a rapid pace, but my anguish grips me like a vice. I
see him kissing that dark-haired stranger and then I see him kissing a thousand
other dark-haired strangers. I really think for a minute about how many men
have been in Brian’s bed. How many came before me, how many will come after me.
I stop dead in my tracks, bend at the waist and hurl all over the cement.
My body is exorcising the demons. Trying to rid itself of the ghost of Brian
Kinney. I could puke a thousand times and he’d still be inside me though. His
fingerprints are everywhere. I know no one else sees them, but I do. Like
little footprints on a sand dune or in fresh fallen snow, they were erased at
the first hint of stormy weather. The winds blew in and made them nonexistent.
I look fresh and new and untouched to the world. But when I’m alone, staring in
the mirror I see their course across my skin. Like those little dotted lines on
a map, Brian’s memory is all over me, filling in the gaps, charting the course
of who I am.
He comes up behind me when the retching has passed. He slides a hand on my
back, but I instinctively move away from it. Even though it is warm, even
though it is nice and comforting and familiar. I tell him not to touch me. I
know he understands but he pressures me to give him more of an explanation. He
sees where I was headed, and that is my fatal mistake. He knows I was on the
corner of these two intersecting streets for a very specific reason and it
would be impossible for me to convince him I felt like a stroll in the rain.
I put up my hand to block him in some way. I felt the need to build a temporary
wall between us. But then he grabs my hand and holds it to his heart. I’m
surprised–it isn’t cold. Then he pulls me to him. Clutches me close and hard,
like he needs me. He breaks me down. He always breaks me down. I fold into him,
clutch him tightly, fitting my head into that perfect space beneath his chin,
locking my arms behind his back and then I start to cry. Not hard and wild like
I have over him before, but softly and controlled. I just let the tears stream
down my face, mixing with the rain and the sweat. I let him hold me until I
feel like I might burst from being so close to him. Smelling him, feeling him,
sensing him in every inch of me is too much.
My good sense gets the better of me and my instincts of self-preservation take
over. I push away and back up, I tell him I can’t do this again. I just won’t
do it to myself. I thought I would. I walked all the way over here with the
decision made that we could make it work. But maybe Brian walking out of the
loft with a trick was a sign. A sign that someone is watching out for me and
reminding me why I walked away. He’ll never be what I need him to be.
I
stare at him. He stares back. We don’t speak. Of course we don’t speak. Talking
was never what Brian and I did well. We developed our own language. We spoke
with skin, tongues, glances, eye rolls, bitten lips, swaying hips, deep
embraces, stone cold faces, never with words. But somewhere along the way I
lost my book of translation. I stopped hearing the silent Brian-speak. I look
into his eyes and try to remember his language now.
Brian
His eyes roam my face, he’s trying so hard to read me. He desperately needs to
see something that isn’t there. Or at least, something that I’ve buried too
deep to reveal. He was always doing that. Always staring at me with expectant
eyes. Waiting for my face to change, waiting for my eyes to flicker, waiting
for the emotion to pour out. I guess he finally got tired of waiting.
He blinks to clear his tears and it makes my heart twinge, a little. I don’t
know what to do with this broken boy. I don’t know what to say to mend to our
broken state. I just stare at the broken sidewalk beyond him and hope he can
tell me what to do.
But he just shakes his head. Looks at me like I’ve killed him all over again. I
hate that look, like he just doesn’t understand me. Which is bullshit
because he’s the only one who does. Don’t you get that Justin? Don’t YOU
understand that?
“You’ll never…” his breath catches in his chest like a hiccup. He didn’t
realize his body wasn’t ready to speak. But then he doesn’t finish the sentence
and it makes me think about a lot of things I’ll never be.
I’ll never be everything you need me to be. I’ll never say the words you long
to hear. I’ll never be the romantic, compassionate man you’re looking for. I’ll
never apologize for being exactly who I am, exactly who I told you I was. But,
I’ll never lie to you. I’ll never cheat on you. I’ll never break the rules that
you made so important. I’ll never turn my back on you. I’ll never deny you the
things you need. I’ll never make you hurt the way….
“I’ll never what, Justin?”
Justin
I don’t even know what I was going to say. Yes I do. I was going to say he’d
never change. He won’t, I know that. It isn’t fair of me to ask him to. But, if
I keep telling myself I can learn to accept him just as he is I’ll keep
breaking both of our hearts. I just wish he could make those few minor adjustments.
It is really just a little fine tuning that we need, not so much radical
change.
I just shake my head and say nothing. I add nothing to the sentence and it
reminds me of something Brian would do. Start to speak and then let his mind
think better of it. I hate that I’ve learned that from him.
What happened to that loud-mouthed kid who never shut up? I remember when I
used to babble so much Brian had to clamp his hand over my mouth so that he
could concentrate. In a way I love that I learned to appreciate silence from
Brian, in a way I hate it. Lying in bed on a Sunday morning with the sun
pouring through the blinds leaving lines on our naked bodies, just smiling…no
talking. That was good silence. Standing on the street while the rain fills almost
every orifice of our bodies and we struggle to walk away, but can’t because
there is so much to say and now words won’t come to us. That is bad silence.
“Justin.” He says quietly and slowly licks his perfect lips.
I just blink.
Suddenly he grabs me and pushes me against the brick wall of the old warehouse
behind us. I can feel the rough grain of each brick push into my back as
Brian’s hand holds me tight to the wall, as if I would actually try to escape.
He breathes on my face and his eyes widen. Something wild in them makes my gut
tingle. I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on or horrified or sick. Of
course, that was always the way with Brian.
“I’ll never what?” He says it low and quiet and with force behind each word.
He’s going to pull an answer out of me, but I’m too weak to give him one. My
eyes plead with him to let it go, let all of it go. Let me go. But, he doesn’t
budge.
“Come one Justin, tell me all of the things I’ll never be. Say what you want to
say.”
His words aren’t harsh. They’re honest. But they hurt all the same. I start to
cry again. It is pathetic and ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I’m so tired of
being torn up into a million pieces inside. I hate waking up searching for him.
I hate answering the phone and hoping to hear his voice. I hate feeling lonely
in the shower, in my room, in the dark, even when I’m in a room full of people,
even when I’m with my fucking boyfriend.
Brian
Christ, I didn’t want him to cry. I just wanted him to talk to me. I wanted
him to say what he needed to say. I wanted to hear what he thinks I’ll never
be. I look into his moist eyes, part rain and part tears, and I soften inside.
He’s always been able to do that. Like he knows if he cries I’ll back off, let
my guard down. Little twat.
So I grab him. I grab him, gather him in my arms. Push my lips on his, hard and
fast but soft and long. I hold his breath in my lungs and give him mine. I
taste the bitter remnants of vomit in his mouth and I don’t care, because I can
taste him at the same time. Bittersweet. Something I’ve missed, something I’ve
longed for. Touching him again, being near him is electric. It makes my body
pulse and radiate and heat up even under the beating of this cold rain.
I take him into me. I suck his tongue and twirl it around and use it like I own
it all over again. I don’t remember that he’s been kissing someone else
everyday since he left me. I don’t remember that he might keep kissing that
someone else every day after today.
His breathing becomes labored when my lips are unrelenting. I suck and lick and
kiss and bite and mark him with desire. His hands struggle to find my bare
skin, battling with my shirt and jacket. His legs spread wide to help him keep
his balance. If he’s half as light-headed as I am he’s about to pass out.
I
take advantage of his spread legs, sliding my thigh between them. I come up
against his crotch and feel that he’s hard already. So am I. The passion is
undeniable. The heat between us is so intense. The nearby raindrops start to
steam.
Justin
There's this push and pull, a love and hate, we've always had it. From that
first night under that very memorable lamppost. He blew me off and then took me
in. He pushed me away and then silently pleaded with me to stay. We've gone
round and round and over and over and I'm so tired from the struggle. I
collapse into his arms because it is the easy thing to do. I'm so tired of
doing everything that is difficult. Staying with him was hard, leaving him was
harder. But right here, right now, soaked by buckets of baptismal rain all I
can do is let him hold me. My will to fight is gone.
He kisses me. I knew he would. It is good and hard and I suck it up and make it
last and lose my breath. I don’t care if I ever breathe again, really. This
warmth he’s filling me with is enough to be my lifeline.
My hands roam all over him, re-charting familiar territory. I love exploring
him again after weeks and weeks of being away. That rush of newness is back. I
let my fingers survey every part of him, as if to ensure he hasn’t changed.
His thigh slides between my open legs and I gasp into his mouth. Having any
part of his body touch my cock is almost too much. In a way it reminds me of
why I’m not going down this road again. This is NOT all about sex for me. If it
were then my decisions would be easy.
I push him away suddenly. I can tell it confuses him, maybe even frightens him.
He holds my shoulders and presses me to the wall. But then I move him away and
inch farther from him. My eyes plead with him to understand. Plead with him to
let me walk away while I still can.
Brian
Not again. You’re not going to do this to me again. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
Justin
The hardest mile I ever walked was the one I walked away from you. Everyone
told me to run, told me to flee and leave you, but I stood my ground as long as
I could. Until the earth was shaking and my legs could no longer hold me. I
didn't turn and run until the last possible moment. I barely made it out alive,
Brian. I can't go back now.
I turn away from him, throw one last glance over my shoulder and shove my hands
into my pockets. I tip my head back and let the rain glide over my saturated
skin as I drag my feet down the sidewalk. I don’t know where I’m going or how
I’ll get there, but I have to move on.
I can sense he’s still behind me. Standing on the corner. Disbelieving I’m
actually walking away, again. Seems to be a trend we’re starting. No one’s
fault really, well both of ours. Okay, a lot mine. But plenty of his too. As I
lick the rain from my lips I hear him, crystal clear through the deafening
storm, “Justin!” Something about his tone makes me turn around.
I raise my eyebrows as if to say, ‘Well?’ and then he adds, “I…”
It’s as far as he gets, but it’s farther than he’s ever gotten. It makes me
want to run to him. Makes me want to pull him in my arms and hold him tight and
kiss him hard and scream ‘I love you too.’ It makes me want to shake him and
yell, ‘Why can’t you say the rest? Why can’t you say it if you feel it, if you
know it?’ Come on Brian; finish this, one way or another. Say it or don’t say
it, just do it.
I hold my breath and wait. My furrowing eyebrows top my fiery eyes as I wait
and hope. But I’m just so tired of hoping. And I’m just so tired of waiting.
Then, without warning, the dark-haired, well-dressed stranger walks up behind
him. “Brian?” He says it knowingly and touches Brian’s shoulder. The way the
stranger looks at me tells me he knows who I am. It makes my stomach turn
inside out and my throat tighten. Who is he? Why is he touching Brian so
comfortably? Why does he look at me as if he understands? He can’t possibly
understand.
My mind begins to reel when I think about all of the possibilities. He must be
more than a trick. He must be more than some guy Brian picked up at Woody’s or
Babylon after work. He must be more than…
Brian
Fuck me. I called his name, and when he turned around I didn’t even know what I
was going to say. It was like I had some form of temporary insanity. I was
going to say whatever it took to make him walk back to me, to make him come
home to me. Then I stopped. I always stop.
He is waiting for me to finish it off. I know if I don’t say anything this
really will be the end. I know if I say what he wants to hear it might be a
lie. I don’t tell lies.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is what being in the middle of a rock and a hard place
feels like. I always wondered what the fuck that was about. “Rock” and “hard
place” always sounded like fun to me – boy was I wrong.
Then a hand touches my shoulder softly and a familiar British accent questions
me, “Brian?”
My head whips to the right to see Kane standing next to me. Looking confused,
wet and waiting for his ride back to the hotel. I hate him right now. I want
him to go away so badly. I’d completely forgotten he existed until this moment.
If I close my eyes maybe he will disappear, a figment of my imagination.
But,
he doesn’t disappear. Then his eyes meet Justin’s. The two don’t speak, but
words are exchanged. Justin’s face changes, like suddenly he knows something
and understands something. He nods, almost imperceptibly and turns away from
us. He walks with determination. He doesn’t look back.
I take a step, like I might go after him. Kane’s hand holds tight to my
shoulder, “Don’t go after him Brian. Don’t ever go after anyone.”
My heart stops, completely. It is so easy to see who you’ve become when you can
so clearly hear the echo of who you used to be.
Justin
I saw it all flash in front of me. Like the movie of my life played on the side
of this massive brick building in a millisecond. There are two roads to take.
The one where I walk away now, while I still have legs to stand on, or the one
where I walk away later, with a heart so heavy I have to crawl.
I remembered that poem by Robert Frost that says, “Two roads diverged in a
wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the
difference.” It gives me the strength to turn and walk away from Brian Kinney.
That is surely the road less traveled and I hope it makes all the difference.
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