1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | Epilogue
12 - Gun Shy
Justin and Brian’s POV
Rated PG-13 (just some language;))
******************
Justin
“Why?” I force out the word, trying to sound like a hard ass when I’m anything
but. Of course I want to run into his arms. It’s actually enough that he bothered
to call me, and that makes me sick.
“Why?” He says it like he’s never heard the word.
“Why do you want me to come over Brian?”
“We, I, uh…” Never good with words…
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m going now.” Holy shit, that just took every
ounce of resolve I had left in my body. Please just let him hang up. I’ll think
about this tomorrow.
“Justin, don’t hang up. I need…” Brian needs something? I didn’t know he ever
used that word unless it was followed by “drink” or “sex”.
“I need you to come over so we can talk.”
“Talk?” My voice waivers a little when I ask the question. I want to cry and
ask him why he is the way he is and if he ever loved me and if I’m waiting around
to live a life I’ll never lead, but it seems a little too early in the game
for that. Perhaps it’s a little too late.
Driving to the loft, I replay the highlights of my relationship, or non-relationship
as it were, with Brian. I think about our auspicious beginnings, how quickly
I fell for him, how quickly he rebuffed me. How hard I to had to work to get
an inch of him, even when I gave him miles of myself.
I remember a time when I wouldn’t have let a thing in the world stand between
us, including my disapproving parents. I remember how headstrong I was when
I looked my mother in the eye and told her that I was in love with a man, and
how that man was all I wanted in the world. I remember how true the words felt.
I remember how Brian protected me right from the start. He pushed me away, trying
to save me from him. He tried to help me mend my relationship with my parents
hoping I wouldn’t follow in his footsteps. He took me in and rearranged his
life so that I felt like I belonged somewhere. And I did, I belonged with Brian.
I still do. I just don’t know where or how or if it’s even possible. After everything
we’ve been through can we still make something work?
After we became friends, I figured anything was possible. I watched us both
grow and mature and turn into something new and better as we tried to build
a real relationship together. I just don’t know if he feels the same. And I
don’t know where I stand after tonight. And I really don’t even know where I
want to stand.
I know that kid was just that…some kid. He was a pretty boy who was in the wrong
place at the wrong time, or in the right place at the right time depending on
your perspective. Brian self-medicates with drugs, alcohol and primarily sex.
If he was pissed about seeing me with Ethan, he’d rather fuck away his anger
than deal with it, or even admit to it. Even though it hurt that the trick looked
so much like me, I know I should try to read deeper into that and see that it
meant something. It meant Brian wanted to be with me, but settled for a cheap
imitation.
Brian
When we hang up the phone, I just stand and stare into space for a long minute
before pouring myself a drink and heading for the couch. I roll the glass around
in my hands and look at the bank of windows across from me. I wonder how much
time has passed since we hung up the phone? I’m actually wondering if he’s going
to show up, or think better of it and head for the hills. Justin always was
a smart boy.
Deciding I've had enough to drink, I set the untouched liquor down on the coffee
table and walk over to the windows. I look down and focus on the street lamp
in front of my building. Street lamps often remind me of Justin and how we began.
Animal lust brought us together for what I thought would be one hot night, ONE
night. One night turned into a day, a day turned into a week, and somehow years
have past, YEARS. He’s still making me as crazy as he did that night, though
in a completely different way.
I can admit to myself, when I’m alone and there is no fear of someone getting
into my head and invading my thoughts, that I was really glad Justin won the
battle in the end. I liked having him in my life. It took a lot of pain and
struggle to get to that place, to accept that my life revolved around someone
other than me. I think Gus helped greatly in that respect. There is no
quicker or easier way to learn to put someone else first than to have a child.
It was no coincidence that Gus and Justin were born to me on the same night.
Justin
I park my car and head over to his building. When I buzz Brian's loft, the door
is simply opened for me, he says nothing through the speaker. Smart man, that
didn’t go so well last time.
When I reach the top of the stairs the steel door is ajar. I walk in, shutting
it behind me.
“Hey,” I say to the back of his head, which I can see over the top of the couch.
The only other part of him I can see is his jean-clad legs stretching out, long
and lean, across his coffee table. He never used to let me put my feet up on
the coffee table; he was so damn anal about it. Maybe he’s relaxed a little.
It would be good for him.
I stand in the open space in front of the door, looking around and assessing
the loft. I was asleep on its doorstep just hours ago, but I haven’t been inside
in months. It looks exactly the same. The couch is still bright white; the kitchen
is still spotless. There’s no clutter, no knick-knacks, no sign that a life
is lived within these four walls. When I was here it was warmer. Brian would
say it was messier, but I know that it was warmer. I wonder if he feels the
cold that’s settled in since my absence?
Suddenly he whips his head around and stares at me; clearly I’ve been lost in
thought for a moment too long. His face says ‘what the hell are you doing?’
but he remains silent.
Finally he utters, “Sit.” It is a question, not a command, and I silently answer
by moving to the chair next to the couch and slowly sitting down. I feel the
force field that surrounds Brian suck at my energy a little. Maybe being this
close to him is a bad idea.
“Thanks for uh…,” he looks at me, strangely, while trying to force out his appreciation
for my return, but it isn’t coming out so easily. He moves so quickly I barely
notice and then his lips are pressing against mine, warm and wet.
I put my hands flat to his chest and push him off, wiggling to move further
back in my chair, further from him.
“Brian!” I huff exasperatedly; I always was a drama queen.
His head snaps up and he looks at me, a slow smirk spreading across his face.
“What?” Christ, he’s so tweaked. I can’t talk to him when he’s like this. Hell,
I can’t talk to him ever - problem number one.
I get up to leave, but his hand, firmly grabbing my wrist, stops me before I
get anywhere.
”Don’t…please…I didn’t mean. I’m just a little drunk. I won’t...”
My head is reeling from the kiss. It was barely anything at all, a brush of
the lips, but still…that contact, feeling and smelling him again, it was too
much. It reminded me of how weak he makes me. I hate feeling weak, but around
Brian it’s inevitable - problem number two.
I turn and look at him, my eyes connect with his and I just stare for a long
while. I’m assessing whether or not he can hold a real conversation right now.
I wish desperately he’d let go of my wrist. It’s so damn distracting. I can’t
think of anything else in the world when he’s touching me – problem number three
(although, is that really a problem?)
When he finally lets go of my wrist and moves away from me I can see the regret
in his eyes. I wait for him to say something, but nothing comes. I’m not surprised,
just hurt. All I want is for Brian to be able to tell me how he feels and I
don’t think he’ll ever get to that place – problem number four. (God, I have
to stop counting, this is getting scary.)
Brian
So I kissed him, or tried. He had to expect that, this is me for Christ sake.
He thought he’d get up and run away, and maybe he has the right after what I
just did, but I stop him anyway.
I try to explain, but it doesn’t come easily. Finally I settle on, “Stay.” I
whisper it as I watch his blue eyes flood with emotion. It’s more than I was
willing to say before. Such a stupid little nothing kind of word, why didn’t
I say it before? I watch the way his eyes burn into me, desperately hoping that
this simple word is a sign of change.
He returns to his seat, settling himself in the chair. I rock back on my knees
and then stand up, sitting back down on the couch after a moment of deliberation
over what should come next.
Before I know what I’m doing my mouth is open and words are pouring out. “I
wanted to come to your show tonight and things got a little fucked up and then
I was running late and trying to get there so you wouldn’t think…and then you
were laughing with him, smiling that happy smile. Christ I haven’t seen that
smile in…it made me a little…”
“Jealous?” Of course he calls my card, he always does. We both know it’s true,
but I fucking hate that word.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Then what would you say?” What would I say? Fuck, his eyes have gone cold.
They’re making a little chill run up my spine. He’s going to make me work for
this. I guess after all that’s been said and done I should have to. But, truthfully,
I’m still not sure where the blame falls here. I mean tonight, yes, the fuck
up is my fault. But, in the grand scheme of things, if we’re keeping score…though
I’m not saying we are…who’s ahead? Sure, I hurt him a lot, made him doubt that
I cared for him, maybe wasn’t around when he needed me. But, I followed his
rules. I let him flip my life inside out and then he went off and broke all
of the rules. Most importantly the unspoken one, which is that he wouldn’t hurt
me.
“A little jealous,” I whisper, giving up a little something. I’ll let him have
this moment, score one for Justin.
“A little jealous?!” He mocks me, but I can tell he’s shocked I even used the
word.
“A little hurt,” I’m even quieter now. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t
believe I just admitted that he hurt me. I’ve never really admitted it to myself,
but he did. It hurt, end of story. I turn to look at him and his eyes are softer
now, apologetic. If that look turns to one of pity, I am so calling this whole
thing off.
Justin
God, I know I hurt him. I mean I’m not an idiot, I know he cared for me, maybe
even loved me (his version of love) and I fucked that up. I did break the rules.
The ones we outlined and the ones we didn’t. I fucked up in thirty-five different
ways. But, to hear him say that I hurt him, well it hurts. It makes it so much
more real.
I just stare at Brian, processing my thoughts. Wondering if I should apologize.
Only I tried that once, right after I found out Brian knew about Ethan, and
it didn't go well at all. He hates apologies. They don’t work with him. I can’t
say I blame him. I’ve had this vision of Brian as a child, where his father
beats the shit out of him and his mother quietly apologizes later, unable or
unwilling to actually do anything about the situation. It was my way of understanding
why Brian thinks that being sorry about anything is bullshit. I’m sure in his
mind you should never have to apologize for anything. Do what you mean the first
time and you won’t have that problem. But I think sorry sometimes does count
for something.
“I’m sorry Brian, I’m really sorry. I know I hurt you, not just tonight. I know
I did and it kills me. It feels worse than anything I’ve ever known. I want
to take that away. But, you have to know you hurt me too.”
He nods a little and whispers, “I know. I know I did.”
I don’t get an apology, but I don’t expect one. Brian acknowledging that he
hurt me is huge. It’s more than I expected.
I gulp hard; I can already feel the tears rising. I’m tired of crying and I
know I probably will later, so I need to save those tears. I have to look away
from him and steel myself for a moment so I can regain control.
Brian
So I admit to him that he hurt me, and then I admit to us both that I hurt him.
So we’ve beat each other up, mentally anyway. That has been established. Now
what?
I stare at him, watch the back of his head as he peers out the window. I wait
for him to turn his gaze back to me. We just stop and look, for a long while.
In a way it’s comforting. I used to take solace in the softness of Justin’s
eyes. I’ve never told him how they felt like home to me, I probably never will.
I wonder what he’s thinking about? When his eyes glaze over and his lips go
slack like that, is he thinking about me? About us? About what we were and what
he wants us to be? Yeah, that’s what I think about. I don’t want to. I spent
forever making sure that those topics were precisely what I was NOT thinking
about. Look where that got me. Justin on my couch, visions of togetherness dancing
in my head. Why the fuck can’t I go back to being the hard ass who didn’t give
a shit? How in the hell did this kid change me so much?
Who knows? Maybe it was just time. Or maybe it was just him…
Justin
Brian and I hold each other’s gaze for the longest time. I watch his eyebrows
furrow, his fist clench and his jaw tighten and then he relaxes. I wonder what
he’s thinking about? He's probably wondering whether he really wants to start
this again. Actually, he’s probably wondering what he has to say to get me to
sleep with him. Not much, not much at all, but I wouldn’t dare tell him that.
I want this to be easy. I want to forget the past. But, that’s the trouble with
history, it doesn’t go away. If we hadn’t gone through all that shit then we
wouldn’t have ended up here, and maybe here is a good place. Finally talking
about what we want and what we are to each other. We needed to have this conversation,
one way or another. We just chose to go through a war zone to get here. Nothing
ever worth having is easily won - Brian’s heart for one.
I clear my throat because it’s getting tight and I'm having trouble breathing.
The sound makes him look at me expectantly, like he’s waiting for me to talk.
I suppose I should go ahead and do that. One of us has to. I never could count
on Brian to carry a conversation, not even about how much toilet paper we had
or what he felt like for dinner. Certainly not about how much we need each other.
“So we hurt each other. Could we call it a draw?” I wait, almost hopeful. There
is more than that to say, but I’m trying to lighten the mood.
“Could we?” He asks, his face expressionless.
“Not really, but it would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
“It would be nice, but hardly possible.” I nod, agreeing with what he’s said.
“What do you want Brian? I need to know what you want.” There I asked him the
question that’s been weighing most heavily on my mind for these last few months.
Watching him sit in the diner early in the morning, peering at me over a cup
of steaming coffee, smiling with me a little, laughing with me a little, letting
me back in. All the while I wondered, ‘what does he want from me?’
“I want…” he pauses, looks at me, then out the window, then down at his hands.
I get out of the chair and then kneel at his feet. I run my hands up his thighs
and stare at his face until he finally looks at me, “Just tell me.” I whisper
it so quietly that I’m not sure I said it. Hopefully he heard it.
Instinctively he reaches up and runs a soft, warm hand through my hair and down
the side of my face. The gesture is so tender that I release a sigh before I
can catch it and hold it in. I need to touch him. I need to be touched by him.
I need his body more than I need my next breath. But first…
Brian
How do you spend your whole fucking life working on shutting people out and
keeping your wants and needs known only to yourself, only to have some kid stroll
in and break down every barrier you’ve constructed? It seems ridiculous to me
at times that I’ve let Justin have such an effect on my life. He’s bled all
over it, coloring every part it, engraining himself so deeply that I cannot
possibly imagine my life without him. Sure we were apart for several months,
but I knew…I KNEW we’d find our way back here. It pains me to admit that the
time I spent without him sucked, but it did. And it pains me ever more to admit
that I have to tell him all of the things I want in order to keep him here,
but I do. And I want to keep him here, I really do.
“I want…” God, my lips feel paralyzed when I try to express emotion. That’s
awful, I fucking know that it’s awful, but it’s me.
He sits between my open legs, his hands softly stroking the tops of my thighs.
He holds my gaze and waits. He waits for what he knows he deserves and for what
he refuses to live without: recognition. Recognition that he means something
to me, recognition that I want him in my life, recognition that I need him.
“I want to be with you.” There, I said it. I want to be with him, it’s true.
I do want that. I don’t know how simple or hard it will be. I don’t know if
or how it will work. But, that’s what I want, plain and simple. My life is better
with him in it. And this friendship shit is good, it’s been really good, but
if I have to go one more fucking day without being inside of him…well, I can't
think about that. Things seem to be going pretty well here.
“I want that too, Brian.” Thank God. That would have totally sucked otherwise.
He could have shot me down, he could have been waiting to really kick me in
the gut. But, I know Justin…I really know him. The only thing this kid has ever
been waiting for is a declaration of love from me. ‘I want to be with you’ is
as close as he’s going to get right now. I think it’s enough. His eyes tell
me it is.
Justin
So Brian admitted he wants to be with me. He actually said “I want to be with
you.” Simple enough really, but it meant a lot. We both know it. I smile up
at him, trying not to let my grin spread over my whole face, but I’m doing a
really shitty job of that. My heart’s beating a million miles a minute. There
is so much I want to say to him right now, but his lips are calling to me.
He’s smiling back at me now. I confirm that being with him is all that I want.
I think he’s always known that, but after everything that’s happened I don’t
want him to doubt it.
“How are we going to do this?” I whisper. It just comes out. I never could keep
my mouth shut.
“Well first I think we start kissing and then maybe touching a little and if
everything goes well I hope to get you ass-up in the bed in a few minutes.”
He smirks. He needed to be sarcastic. I know this show of emotion isn’t easy
for him. I know admitting that we belong together is like admitting defeat for
Brian. I wish he could find a way to not see it like that.
“Briiiiian,” I kind of whine at him. Then I add seriously, “You know what I
mean.”
“We’re different now Justin, both of us. I think it’ll be okay.”
“Do you really?”
He nods, “Why else would I be willing?”
It’s my turn to nod, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just…”
“It’s just what?” He searches my eyes, finding concern there.
“I can’t do it all again. I can’t go through that. It was too intense. I know
we’ve both changed a lot, but what if it’s not enough?”
He stands up, gently pushing me aside. I watch as he paces to the other side
of the room and comes to stand at the window.
He looks out for a long moment and then turns to me, “It’s all I have.”
He’s right. It is all he has. And it has to be enough. Right?
Feedback to throughthelens78@yahoo.com