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Allie
Disclaimer: All things QAF belong to CowLip. I take
liberties but they own them, I don’t.
Characters: All Queer As Folk characters
Pairing: Brian and Justin
Warning: Entire Thing will be NC-17. Spoilers for
like all Five Seasons.
XIV - The Past Isn't Always Left Behind
"What you need to know about the
past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring
you to this very moment."
~ Author Unknown ~
June 11, 2019 11:19am
Gus' POV
It takes me a little over an hour to unpack my shit and put it away. When I'm
done, the room looks a little more like mine and a little less like the guest
bedroom. I flop down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Now that I'm settled
in I kinda don't know what to do with myself. I could hang around the loft and
wait for Justin or Dad to get home. Fuck that. I get up and put on an old pair
of Vans. Reaching for my wallet, I stuff it into my back pocket before grabbing
my cell phone. Walking over to the dresser I pick up my Sony Pix 125 that Grandma
Deb and Grandpa Carl gave me for graduation and head out. I lock and alarm the
loft as I leave because god forbid I hear another lecture about that. Dad is
like totally anal about setting the alarm whenever anyone leaves, which I guess
I can understand considering all the valuable shit they have in there.
I take the elevator down to the ground floor, grunt a hello to Shelby the doorman,
and head for my studio. I still can't get over that, my studio. I feel like
a fucking tourist walking around
I love the area of downtown that my dad and Justin live in. It's not as shiny
as, say, Midtown or the
I pass by Carmelo's. It's this little bakery not far from the loft. I love it.
They make the best cinnamon raisin bread. The summer I spent in
"We'll get a shitty apartment in Queen's and-"
I look over at him as we walk toward the loft. "Ash, my dad will never
let me live in
He jumps in front of me, stopping our forward motion. I've never seen him
so excited. "Okay, we'll get a shitty apartment in The Village and-"
I laugh and shake my head. "Ash, my dad would never let me live in
a shitty apartment anywhere."
He throws out his arms. "Then we'll get a big ass incredibly expensive
loft apartment on Madison Avenue." His smile is so fucking big. "No,
wait I got it…how about we just live at Trump Tower and be done with it."
He wraps his arms around my waist. "Would your dad go for that?"
Draping my arms over his shoulders, I lean forward to kiss him just so he'll
shut up. I push my hands into his soft brown hair as I deepen the kiss, practically
begging with my mouth for him to share his happiness with me. His hands push
under my shirt and-
A car skids to a stop, its tires screeching along the asphalt in an all too
familiar sound. My thoughts are jarred out of me as I jump sideways away from
the noise. My shoulder collides with a brick wall. I fall so hard on my knees
that my teeth snap against each other. Fuck that hurt. A few people pass me
but no one stops to see if I'm okay. Not that I expected anyone too. Slowly
I push myself up to my feet, thanking god I had the presence of mind not to
drop my $1500 digital camera. I feel stunned for a second, but then my breath
hitches. Clutching my camera tight in my hand I start to run. I rush by people,
not caring if I accidentally run into them. I'm not running because I'm scared.
I'm not scared. I'm running because I feel it coming. It's like a lion after
a forty day fast and I'm the first wildebeest it's seen in days. I take the
building steps two at a time, fling open the door, and practically knock Maddie
over when I run into the gallery.
"Jesus." I pant. "I'm…so…fucking…sorry." I don't just mean
for almost knocking her on her ass either. I'm sorry for a lot of things.
I notice her hand on me. I guess she must have grabbed me to keep from falling.
She squeezes my arm, her touch is soft, and smiles as she lets me go. "It's
alright."
Stepping back from her, I push myself against the wall as I try to get a handle
on my breathing.
"Are you okay?" She's not smiling anymore. She reaches out to touch
me, hug me, steady me, I don't know, but I push her hand away.
"Fi…ne." I manage to get out.
"Do you need me to get Justin?" She looks toward the stairs.
I shake my head no. What I need is to just fucking breathe. To fucking get a
grip. To calm the fuck down. I just need a fucking second, that's all.
"I'm getting Justin." She takes a step toward the stairs but I reach
out and grab her arm to stop her.
"I'm…fi..fine. Just…give…me…a…min…minute." Fuck. I'm fucking crying.
"I…I'm…fuck…fucking…fi…fine." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
***************************************
June 11, 2019 11:41am
Justin's POV
I want to throw something. I want to throw
everything. I want to be pissed. I am pissed. I shake out my hand and look at
the painting I was working on. It's fucking ruined. It was supposed to be a
dot, a small detail. Now it's a thick red jagged line cutting vertically down
the center of the piece. Fuck. I should have taken a break. I knew I should
have but I was in the zone. Everything was just fucking flowing and now-
"Fuck!" I yank the painting off the easel and fling
it across the room. It makes a wet smack against the hardwood floor and leaves
a thick trail of blue and black as it skids to a stop. "Fuck!"
My cell phone ringing is the only thing that stops me from
throwing my easel across the room with it. Ignoring the paint on my hands, I
walk to the counter and pick up my phone. "Hello?"
"Justin, its Maddie."
"Is Grady here?" I asked her to call me when he got to the gallery.
He wasn't scheduled to be here, but the thing about Grady is that he's always
here. I still have no idea how I'm going to tell him I'm adding another
artist to his show. I look across the room at the canvas I threw to the floor.
Right now I really don't give a shit about Grady or his show if I'm being honest
with myself.
"Justin?" Her voice pulls me from my thoughts. "I think you should
get down here." There is something in her voice that I've never heard before…concern…worry…fear?
"What's wrong? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. It's…Gus. He's-"
"I'll be right there." I toss my phone to the counter, not caring
that it bounces off the surface and hits the floor. I don't think about anything
but getting down to Gus. I don't know what happened. It doesn't matter what
happened. I run down the stairs and round the corner to see Gus sitting down
with his back pressed to the wall and his arms locked around his knees, sobbing
as he rocks back and forth.
I walk toward him but Maddie grabs my arm. "He doesn't want to be touched."
I shake off her hand and kneel in front of Gus. People used to think the same
thing about me. It wasn't that I didn't want to be touched, it was really more
about who I would allow to touch me. Oh, I wanted to be held and soothed, but
not by just anyone. "Gus," I say softly. His red rimmed eyes meet
mine. I don't say anything as he unfurls himself, practically jumping into my
arms. His hands grab fistfuls of my shirt as he presses his tear streaked face
to my chest. It's awkward because he's taller than me but it doesn't stop me
from wrapping my arms around him and holding him.
I feel a tight knot form in my chest. My mind flashes back to being curled in
a ball in the corner of the loft, feeling scared and alone, waiting for Brian
to get back from work or checking the mail or wherever the fuck he'd gone. I
would just shake and cry and fucking wait. Then he would be there, kneeling
in front of me, and I'd throw myself into his arms. He never said a word. He
never said it was going to be okay or any of the other soothing bullshit that
most people would say. That wasn't his style. He would simply hold me until
it was over. That's all I ever wanted or needed.
I can't help but wonder what Gus needs. Does he need the words? Does he just
need to be held? It's all so similar and yet not. I tighten my hold on him and
wonder if I'm enough, if this is enough. I can't help but think how Brian would
have been if I had-
Fuck that. I clear my thoughts, or at least I try to. I try not to compare and
contrast this moment to moments from my past, but it's like that jagged red
line on my painting. When I go back upstairs and flip the painting over it will
still be there, albeit not as sharp, not as prominent, not as fucking bright,
but it will still be there.
I feel Gus' breathing returning to normal. His sobs turn into hiccups. He takes
a deep ragged breath and releases his grip on the back of my shirt. Slowly he
pulls back and looks me in the eyes. He's sorry. I can see it. He wants to apologize.
"Don't." I shake my head.
He wipes his tear streaked face with the back of his hand. "Fuck."
He mumbles.
I stand up and hold my hand out to him. He hesitates for a second before picking
up his camera with one hand and grabbing mine with the other. When he's standing
he lets go of my hand and starts messing around with his camera. "Do you
want to talk about it?"
His head snaps up. "What?"
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask again. I remember when it used
to happen to me, Brian would never demand to know what was wrong or what had
happened. He would just grab my hand pull me over to the couch and ask if I
wanted to talk about it. Sometimes I did and sometimes I didn't. Most of the
time, I would just lay down with my head in his lap until I fell asleep.
Gus lowers his head, inspecting the camera in his hands. "It's stupid."
I place a hand under his chin and lift his head until his eyes meet mine. "No,
it's not."
He looks at me for a long time. His eyes search mine, for what I don't know.
Finally he says, "I don't want to talk about it."
I move my hand from his chin to his shoulder. "Okay."
He raises an eyebrow and Jesus, does that ever make him look like Brian. "Okay?"
"Yeah." I'm not going to force him to tell me anything. I know that's
what he thinks I should be doing and he's wondering why I'm not.
"Are you going to tell Dad?"
I shake my head. "I'll leave that up to you."
His mouth hangs open. "You won't tell him?"
"Gus, do you think your dad ran to my mom every time I had an attack or
a nightmare?" He shrugs. "No, he didn't. I don't know how your moms
did things but if you want to tell your dad, okay, and if not that's okay too."
He cocks his head to the side. "Okay…okay." He takes a deep breath
and looks over my shoulder. I follow his gaze to see Maddie standing behind
us. I forgot she was even here. "Sorry I almost knocked you over."
She smiles at him. "Don't you worry about it hon."
He turns back to look at me. "I think I'm gonna go up to my studio for
a while."
I squeeze his shoulder and drop my hand. "Sure. I'll be around if you need
anything."
He nods, turns, and starts up the stairs. Maddie comes to stand beside me as
we watch him go. "What was that?" She asks me softly.
I almost tell her, that was me, eighteen years ago.
**********************************************
June 11, 2019 4:46pm
Gus' POV
It took me about thirty minutes to recover from earlier. I'm sure I made a lasting
impression on Maddie, although when I went down for a soda an hour ago she didn't
seem to be bothered at all that I freaked out right in front of her. I didn't
say so at the time but I was fucking glad Justin was there. Even though I told
Maddie not to call him, I'm glad that she did. He didn't even say anything while
it was happening. It was kinda weird. Usually if I'm with Mom and it happens
she holds me and tells me everything is going to be okay. Ma always asks me
what happened to set it off. They don't say so, but I know if Mom is around
when one happens she tells Ma, and vice versa.
I don't know if I'm going to tell Dad but I guess I should. It's just weird
how Justin handled the whole thing. I mean…how did he know to do that? I mean,
I don't need the words but it's not like I ever told anyone that. It's just
like he fucking knew what I needed without me having to tell him. It's hard
not to compare it with how things happened at home, because it's like two totally
different reactions. Even yesterday Dad didn't ask what had caused me to freak
out. He didn't tell me it would be okay. He just handed me a bottle of water
and asked if I was better when it was over. Is this how it was for them when
Justin was going through this same thing? It has to be, right? How else would
they know what to do?
I've been in my studio since it happened. Justin came by a while ago just to
see if I was still here. He didn't even mention my freak out. After I calmed
down, I took a few pictures around my studio just so I could mess around in
the darkroom. In fact, I'm on my knees right now with my head stuck in a cabinet,
looking for developer. Not many people actually use a darkroom these days with
all the technology that's available, but I like it. There is just something
about the process that I find interesting and fucking awesome. Anyone can press
a button, download a digital picture, and print it. Not everyone can actually
develop their own pictures. Well maybe they can, but most people are too fucking
lazy to bother. Besides that I'm an artist, and it's all about the process anyway.
"Shit this place is nice."
I jump at the sound of the voice and hit my head on the cabinet. "Fuck!"
Christ how many times can I hurt myself today? Rubbing the top of my head, I
stand up to see who the fuck is here. Oh, it's him, the guy from yesterday,
Grady or whateverthefuck. He looks…nice. He's wearing grey dress pants and a
buttoned down white shirt which is a step up from the ensemble he wore yesterday.
I glare at him. "Is it like your thing to sneak up on people?"
He shrugs and walks further into the room. "I saw the door open and-"
"You thought you'd just come on in."
He turns to me. "I was looking for Justin actually." What the fuck
was with this guy?
"Yeah well," I throw my hands up. "He's not here."
"I can see that." He sweeps his eyes over me and I raise an eyebrow.
What the fuck? "You okay?" He asks.
"Dazzling. Why wouldn't I be?" I pick up my camera off the counter
and start messing with it, mostly just to keep my hands busy.
He shrugs. "You kinda freaked out yesterday, that's all."
What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Oh yeah, I did but it wasn't a big
deal, really, happens all the fucking time. In fact, it happened again a few
hours ago. So see, like I said, no big deal. He walks over to the other side
of the counter, slides his hands over the smooth surface, and looks up at me.
Fuck his eyes are just…like I kinda want to take a picture of them because they
are just so fucking different…not bad different, just different.
He leans on the counter. "So you're a photographer?"
Hello state the obvious much? "No, I'm a sculptor actually." I reply,
rolling my eyes.
He shakes his head. "God you're a fucking smart ass. I'm just trying to
have a conversation with you."
I set my camera down and cross my arms over my chest. "Yeah well who says
I want to have a conversation with you?"
His laugh is kinda soft and deep. "You sound just like Brian."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You would."
"Hey, you don't know shit about me."
He leans back and smiles. "Hence the need for a conversation."
"Fuck of-"
From far and wide, O
We stand on guard for thee.
God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee!
Laughing he asks, "What the fuck is that?"
I glare at him as I pull my cell phone from the pocket of my jeans. Flipping
it open I press it to my ear and growl. "JR, you are so going to get it
the next time I see you."
"Hello to you too big brother."
"Did you set every number to play that song?"
She giggles. "No. Just the ones from us." She stops laughing. "Just
to, you know, remind you of home."
Its official, my sister is a freak. "Where are you?"
"Don't be dense. You know I'm at my dad's." I should have remembered
that. In the summers she usually goes to Uncle Mikey's around the same time
I go to my dad's. I lean against the counter, watching as Grady walks around
the room checking shit out. I cover the mouthpiece of my phone. "Do you
mind?"
He looks over his shoulder at me and grins. "Not really."
Asshole. "Gus, hello? Who are you talking to?" JR demands.
"No one." I tell her.
"Oh, well I just called to say hi and that umm…you know, I miss you or
whatever." She huffs into the phone.
I smile. "Yeah? How much?"
She doesn't even hesitate. "As much as Captain Astro missed Galaxy Lad
in issue 206 when he was kidnapped by Volumous and taken to the planet Zoltolf."
Did I mention my sister is a freak? "Wow."
She sighs into the phone. "Yeah…do you miss me?"
"Sure." I tell her.
"How much?" I can hear the smile in her voice. This is our thing.
It's totally lame. If she’s pissed at me I ask her how much and she whips out
some comic knowledge to let me know. Angry, sad, scared, whatever we are feeling
towards each other, this is how we express it. Yeah, okay I'm a freak too.
I turn and lean back against the counter. "Hmm it's hard to top issue 206."
I pause like I'm really thinking about it. "As much as JT missed Rage in
issue 51, when Rage was kidnapped and held hostage by Ice-Tina's son, Hoarfrost."
"Oh my god! JT went crazy for like three issues when that was going on!"
She practically screams.
"I know."
"Fuck my dad's calling for me."
"You better go then."
"Alright." She pauses. "You're okay though, right?"
"I'm fine JR."
"Alright well, Iloveyouokaybye." She says it all in one breath and
hangs up.
"You to," I say, even though she can't hear me.
"You read Rage?" I jump at the sound of his voice and turn around.
I fucking forgot he was even here.
Flipping my phone closed I set it on the counter. "Christ, you are nosy."
He smiles. "I prefer the term observant." Then he fucking winks at
me. Christ.
I cross my arms. "Don't you have some place to be?"
One corner of his mouth lifts up in a way I refuse to admit is sexy. "You're
right, I do. Check you later kid."
He's almost out the door when I tell him. "I'm not a kid."
He pauses and looks me over. What the fuck is up with that? "No."
He says. "I guess you're not." Then he leaves. What. The. Fuck?
*******************************************
June 11, 2019 5:01pm
Justin's POV
I click my thumbnail between my teeth as I stare at the painting. I think it's
finished. I pick up the paint brush that I use only for my signature and finish
off the piece. Standing back, I look it over once more. Yeah, it's finished.
Who knew that accidental art could be highly representational? I turn from the
painting and clean my brush. It completely captured how pissed off I was when
I threw it across the room. When I came back upstairs my plan was to just pick
it up and throw the fucking thing away, but then I looked at it. Then I sat
it back on the easel and looked at it some more. Drying off my brush, I return
it to its place among my other fine point paint brushes.
I'm wiping my hands when someone knocks on the door. I toss away the rag and
pull the screen closed so that my paintings can't be seen from the doorway.
It never used to be an issue having my paintings out all over the place, because
it used to be the only one that came into my studio was Brian. Since starting
the gallery it's usually more beneficial to me to have potential artists or
Maddie meet me up here.
As I walk to the door I glance at the clock on the wall. Christ, is that the
time? I open the door half expecting to see Gus telling me he's ready to go
or that he's hungry, but I'm not surprised to see Grady instead.
"Hey." I greet him, moving aside so he can come in. Judging by his
outfit I'm guessing he just came from his part-time job at the SoHo Grand Hotel.
He moves around me. "Hey. Maddie said you wanted to see me."
I close the door and walk over to the table in the corner, waiting for him to
join me before I say anything. As he sits down he tells me, "I'm working
on this piece right now that I think will be really great for the show."
"Yeah about that…" Fuck. I have no idea what to tell him. Honestly
I've been so preoccupied today that I haven't even thought about how I was going
to tell him this. I scratch the back of my head. "Look, I really don't
know how to say this so I'm just going to say it." Christ, where was Brian
when I needed him? He'd have no problem doing this. He'd say, "We're
adding another artist to your show, deal with it." I take a deep breath
and look at Grady's expectant face, trying not to feel like an asshole. "You
know I think your art is great."
"Yeah?" He furrows his brow.
"But it looks like I'm going to have to add another artist to the show."
"What? Why?" I hear the confusion and hurt in his voice.
"I should have never offered it to you in the first place. I let my emotions
get the better of me and-"
He stands up. "This is complete bullshit." His hurt is replaced by
the anger I was expecting.
"Look, I'm sorry for getting your hopes up-"
"You promised."
I nod. "Yes I did but-"
He walks away from me. "I can't believe this." He turns, placing his
hands on his hips. "Did you know I got offered a solo show at the Edward
Scholard Gallery in
I stand up. "Well that was a mistake on your part. You should take every
show you're offered." I wanted to tell him that's lesson 101 in the Starving
Artist's Handbook: Never ever turn down a chance to showcase your art.
"I didn't have enough pieces for both shows."
"That's bullshit and you know it." I've never let anyone pull a guilt
trip on me, and I'm not starting now.
"We had a deal."
"Look, I don't want to be an asshole about this-"
He scoffs. "It's a little late for that."
"But," I continue, ignoring his jab. "You haven't signed an agreement
yet with the TK Gallery. Let this be a learning experience-"
"What, not to trust anyone?"
"No, that nothing is for certain until you have it in writing."
"Sure Justin, I'll just chalk it up to a lesson learned." He rolls
his eyes. "So how many pieces will I have to cut?"
"Half." He shakes his head. "Grady, I really am sorry about all
of this."
"Yeah well can I have that in writing?" He turns to leave,
muttering asshole under his breath as he slams out the door.
Well…that didn't go so bad. Sure, I feel like the world's biggest asshole, but
it's my own fucking fault. He'll be pissed for a while. Hell, maybe a great
painting will come out of it. I look over at the screened in area of my studio.
That always seems to work for me.