1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

How We Got Where We're Going

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.

XVII - Impressions

"A picture is the expression of an impression."
~ Ernst Haas ~

June 19, 2019 9:17am

Justin's POV

Gus and I are walking to the building together like we've done for the last three mornings. I watch Gus out of the corner of my eye flinching every time a car roars passed us. His head is down and he's clutching his hands together so tightly that his knuckles are white. His breathing is quick and shallow, but he keeps walking. He takes a few deep breaths in and out, just like they teach you to do when you feel a panic attack coming. That whole breathing thing never really worked for me, but it seems to be helping him. He takes one last deep breath, unclenches his hands, and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his shoulder bag. He taps one out and lights it before returning the pack to his bag.

"You're making me nervous," he says as he takes a drag of his cigarette. "I'm fine."

"Okay." I tell him, even though we both know he's lying.

"They don't happen all the time."

"I know."

"Sometimes I can stop them."

"You're really lucky."

"Oh yeah?" He scoffs. "How's that?"

I shrug. "I could never stop mine." I don't know if I should tell him that or not. Part of me feels I shouldn't, that some things are better off not knowing even if it is the truth. "When I was still in the hospital they would try to teach me all these techniques."

I look over at him and he nods. "Yeah me too."

"Some of them were completely ridiculous." I laugh. "The best one was 'try counting backward from one-thousand'."

"What good would that do?" I see he's completely serious and that he really wants to know.

"I don't know. I guess it's supposed to give you something else to think about." I shrug. "I just didn't…" I shake my head. "For me it didn't matter what techniques they offered up, none of them worked or helped."

"They didn't?" I see the concern on his face.

As we reach the front of the building, I turn to face him. "No two people are the same Gus. What works for you might not work for someone else and vice versa."

"I guess that makes sense." There is no conviction behind his voice. He looks away from me and takes a drag of his cigarette.

I decide to try a different tactic. "After I was bashed…" He looks at me like he almost can't believe I'm mentioning it. Have I ever talked to him about it before? I guess I haven't really. I continue. "I was afraid of practically everything." He watches me intently as he smokes his cigarette. "I didn't really want anyone to touch me. I couldn't walk down the street by myself without freaking out."

He scans the traffic on the street. "Yeah." He looks back at me. "How did you get over that?"

Bingo. I scratch the back of my head. "It was a really long and tedious process. For the longest time I couldn't go anywhere unless your dad was with me. Then one day we both felt that I was ready to try it alone. He left the loft, and I was supposed to meet up with him on Liberty Avenue. I didn't think I could do it. I certainly didn't know if I was ready, but I did it." I smile at the memory of seeing Brian standing there with his arms open waiting for me. "The panic attacks and nightmares got better after that, but it wasn't like I woke up one day and said, 'wow I feel completely better.' It just doesn't work like that." I watch as he flicks his cigarette to the street. "Sometimes," I say slowly, waiting for his eyes to meet mine. "It still bothers me."

"Yeah," he says, scuffing his shoe against the pavement.

Stepping closer to him, I place my hands on his shoulders. His eyes meet mine. "Everyone heals on their own time table Gus. What one person might get over in weeks, another person might not get over for years." He nods. "I'm not saying that what happened to me or to you doesn't suck, because it does. All we can do is move forward one day at a time, one step at a time." I smile. "All you can do is hold on until the scenery changes." Thank you Deb. I smile and squeeze his shoulders before dropping my hands.

I'm heading up the stairs when he calls me. "Justin?"

Turning around I look down at him. One corner of his mouth lifts up to form a crooked grin. "Thanks."

I smile. "Anytime Gus."

He joins me as we walk up the rest of the steps and into the building. I don't know if what I told him will help, but I hope so. I remember Deb giving me a similar speech, but I might have been too angry at the world at the time to appreciate its value. Wouldn't Deb find it funny that I had actually listened to her? I look over at Gus. He isn't angry, so maybe, just maybe what I said will matter. I can only hope.

When we are inside I spot Maddie across the room, completely focused on the clipboard in her hands. It's going to be a busy day today. We have a small show this weekend that we need to set up for. Sometime today Jas Montgomery, a junior at SVA, is coming by to see about co-headlining the now defunct 'solo show'. Grady hasn't been around in a few days, but I called him to come over to sign his contract for the show in July. Unfortunately for me there won't be much time to paint today.

Maddie looks up from her clipboard, smiling as she walks over to us. "Good morning." Her smile falters some, never a good sign. "Thank god you're here."

I furrow my brow. "What's wrong?"

"You know Nikki Coleman?" I nod my head. She's a pretty new talent. "She dropped out. We're going to have an empty wall."

"What? Why?" Shit. Empty wall space at an opening is never good.

"She said she didn't have enough pieces ready."

I know that's bullshit. She has the pieces but she's a fucking perfectionist. So what she meant was that she didn't have enough perfect pieces for the show. "Fuck." Maddie gives me a look. She hates when I swear. I start racking my brain trying to think of what the hell to do. Who can I get to fill the wall space on such short notice? It would have to be someone who already has some pieces complete. Fuck.

"Why don't you just ask that Grady guy if he will fill in?" I turn to Gus, raising an eyebrow. He shrugs. "You dropped him from that solo show thing right? So he'd have something to put up wouldn't he?"

I turn to Maddie. The smile she'd lost earlier is back on her face. "That's not a bad idea."

No, it's not. Actually it's a fucking great idea. Grady already has some of his pieces stored here. It will definitely work as long as Grady goes for it, which considering how things went, he might not. It at least is worth a try. Turning to Gus I smile. "Thanks."

He pokes his tongue in his cheek. "Anytime."

I'm about to tell him how much he looks like Brian when the gallery door opens. Maddie shoves her clipboard into my hands and approaches Jas. Maddie has known Jas since he moved to New York. She kind of took him under her wing when he lost his student housing. He is a lucky kid, I'll say that much. Maddie kisses him on the cheek and leads him over to us. I see that look in her eyes. Oh no. She's looking right at Gus as they walk over. Jas is a good kid, smart, and pretty talented. He's shorter than me by about an inch. He's not exactly skinny, probably due to Maddie's home cooking. His reddish brown hair is cut short and styled spiky. I notice Gus give him the once over, but he doesn't look impressed.

"Hey Justin." Jas smiles over at me before looking over at Gus. "Who's this?"

"This is Brian's son, Gus. Gus, this is Jas, he's a Computer Graphics major at SVA." Jas holds out his hand and Gus quickly shakes it, mumbling a hello.

Jas gives Gus the once over and I cringe. Not that Jas is a bad guy, but I just don't think Gus is ready for…well, that. "Nice to meet you." Jas turns to me. "I didn't know Brian had a son."

I'm about to answer when Gus snarls. "Yeah well, he does."

Noticing the shift in Gus' mood, I tell Maddie, "Can you take Jas to the office? I'll be there in a minute."

She quickly looks from me to Gus and nods. "Sure hon. Come on Jas." She smiles at Gus, her expression seeming to be an apology of sorts, before she and Jas walk back to the office.

When they are gone I turn to Gus. "What was that all about?"

"I don't like having guys paraded around in front of me."

"She didn't mean anything by it."

He shrugs. "I'm sure she didn't." He starts walking toward the stairs when he stops and turns back to me. "And I wouldn't mind you know."

Not clear on what he means I ask, "Mind what?"

"If you tell people that I'm your son too." He shrugs. "I kinda am anyway. Just…you know, don't expect me to call you Dad or anything. That would just be fucking weird." He turns back and disappears up the stairs.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. I wasn't expecting that at all. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. I mean, I've always thought of Gus as Brian's son. It's not that I don't love him as a son, I do, but I guess I've never been comfortable with thinking of myself that way. I always thought that if Gus sees me that way one day, okay, but I was never going to force it on him. Even when Brian and I got married I didn't think, okay now Gus is my son too. I always wanted that decision to be Gus'. I look over to the stairs, smile, and shake my head. I've had some really awesome things happen to me in my life but that ranks right up there with the night I met Brian. Fucking amazing.

******************************************

June 19, 2019 9:47am

Gus' POV

I walk into my studio feeling a mixture of emotions. I know Maddie didn't mean anything by the whole Jas thing, but really if she wants to fix me up with someone at least make him interesting. I was bored before the guy even opened his mouth, and really he isn't much to look at. I drop my bag on the counter as I walk to the corner of the room. I'm working on a contrast shot of some boxes. I turn on the lamps and position them. I start thinking of what Justin was saying earlier, about how everyone heals differently. That makes a lot of sense. When he started his little speech I didn't really want to listen to him, but then he mentioned being bashed. Besides that, he has this tone of voice he uses when he's saying something he thinks is really important. I couldn't help but listen to him. What he was saying made sense, it really did. He's not the first person to tell me that. Actually that scenery changing thing sounds like something Grandma Deb said to me right after the accident. Maybe Justin got that same speech from Grandma Deb when he got hurt.

I stack the boxes and arrange them in a way I think might be aesthetically pleasing, but in a desolate kind of way. That's the look I'm going for. The feeling I want to invoke. Stepping back from the boxes I tilt my head. In all honestly it's really comforting to have someone that's sorta been where I'm at. Justin knows that walking to and from the loft everyday has been kinda taxing on me. He didn't ask me flat out or demand that I tell him. He just knew and now I know why. He's been there. I'm kind of surprised that he was shocked about the whole calling me his son thing. I walk over to my bag and get out my camera. Sure I've always called him Justin, but I've always seen him as kind of a dad, and he's always treated me as kind of a son. I mean, hello, he is married to Dad now, doesn't that make it like official anyway? Still, it wasn't that hard just to tell him I didn't mind it. Maybe that's what he's been waiting for this whole time, my okay.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. Setting down my camera I walk over to the door and open it. Grady. I look him over. He's wearing dark blue jeans and a pale green t-shirt that complements his skin tone. I raise an eyebrow. "You knocked." I turn from him. "I'm surprised."

Much like I expected he follows me into the studio. "Yeah, thought I'd try it out for once."

Picking up my camera from the counter, I walk back over to the corner where I was setting up my shot. "What are you doing here?" I set my camera on the floor as I kneel down to adjust the bottom box.

"I came to thank you."

I scoff. "For what?"

"For suggesting me as the filler for the show this weekend."

Picking up my camera from the floor I stand up. "Oh, that." Stepping back from the boxes I tilt my head. Something is still off.

"Yeah that."

I shrug. "It's not a big deal."

I feel him behind me, close but not too close. "It's a big deal to me."

I shrug again and look at him over my shoulder. "It was shitty, the whole solo show thing." I set my camera on the table next to me to adjust the top box. I step back. It still doesn't look right.

"Yeah, it was kinda shitty."

Turning around, I see my camera in his hands. I walk over to him and take it from him. I try to ignore the sizzle of heat that flows through my body when our fingers brush against each other. "Next time get it in writing." Without meaning to my voice comes out low and husky.

He smiles at me, his voice taking on the same tone as mine. "So I've been told." He looks down at his hands then back up at me. "Listen do you…" He runs a hand through his brown hair. "Want to go for coffee or something?"

I raise my eyebrow. "I don't drink coffee."

"Well I did say or something. There's a café down the street…"

Turning away from him, I bring my camera up and look at the boxes through the lens. "Like a date?" I scoff.

I focus my camera and snap a picture. The fucking composition or something is still off. "No. Not a date. More like…a thank you."

I aim the camera again and snap another picture. "You said thank you, that's good enough for me."

I feel him move from behind me. I'm not sure what he's doing, but he's not leaving. I focus the camera again and watch through the lens as the light shifts on the boxes. That's better. I snap a quick picture. Moving my camera aside, I watch as he walks toward another light. "Wait." He looks over at me. "Not that one, the one on your left." He points to the lamp. "Yeah, that one." I move two steps to the side and bring my camera up again. I watch the light shift again and snap a picture. "Perfect." The light lands just right, evoking just the right feeling. It's a fucking perfect shot. It's a perfect balance of contrast for a black and white photograph. I snap a few more shots before putting my camera down. He's watching me. Those cat-like eyes study my every move. It's kinda unnerving and kinda hot.

"Okay." I tell him.

"Okay?" He raises his brows.

I shrug. "Why the fuck not."

***************************************

June 19, 2019 10:41am

Brian's POV

I lean forward in my chair as I click on the speakerphone. "So how are things in fabulous Pittsburgh, Theodore?"

He chuckles. "Great. We landed PittSteal this morning."

"Impressive."

"Fifteen million dollar account. I'd say so."

Reaching for a marker, I cross through a design on the ad-copy in front of me. "Did you get those reports that Cynthia sent over?"

There's a shuffling of papers in the background. "Yup, got them right here. I'll crunch the numbers and get it back over to you this afternoon."

Recapping the marker, I lean back in my chair. With the business end taken care of I ask, "So how's the wife?"

He chuckles, because unlike Michael, he doesn't take the snark personally. Of course, given past issues I can see why Michael can't appreciate it. "He's doing great. We're breaking ground on the center tomorrow."

"You finally settled on a location?" Ted and Blake have been looking for property to set up their own counseling center. Ted is going to be taking care of the business end of the deal while Blake will be managing the operation.

"Yes, finally." They've been looking for a place for over a year. "We decided on that old warehouse on Liberty and 5th."

"Shit, I think that place was abandoned before I moved here, Theodore."

"Lucky for us. Jennifer got us a great deal." I smile at that. Mother Taylor can do anything she sets her mind to, but she fucking shines when it comes to real estate dealings. Ted clears his throat. I roll my eyes and wait. "How's married life treating you Bri?"

"Fabulous." I reply tongue in cheek.

He chuckles. "Of course. And Gus, how's he doing?"

Frowning slightly I tell him, "He's adjusting."

"Totally understandable."

There's a tap on my office door. I look over just as Cynthia pokes her head in. "Justin line two," she mouths.

"Gotta go Theodore. Get me those reports and," I roll my eyes. "Tell everyone I said hello."

Ted chuckles again. "Will do Bri, and tell Justin I said hello."

Smartass. I turn off the speakerphone, reach for my Bluetooth earpiece, and put it on before pressing line two. "Hiya Honey."

Justin laughs. "Good day at the office dear?"

I turn in my chair toward the window. "It's far too early to tell. You?"

"Pretty good so far. Jas agreed to the July show." That's good news. He's been worrying about that. "There was a snag this morning with this weekend's show. Nikki dropped out."

"No perfect pieces?"

"Probably. She told Maddie she didn't have enough for the show."

I roll my eyes. Why couldn't people just be honest? "Which means she didn't have enough perfect pieces ready to show."

When he laughs I smile automatically. "Exactly-but Gus saved the day."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yup. He suggested Grady."

I raise my eyebrow higher. "He did?"

"Yeah, which if you think about it, is the perfect solution considering the whole 'sorry you aren't getting a solo show after all' thing."

I purse my lips. "I suppose."

He sighs into the phone. "It's better than having a blank wall, Brian."

True, I guess. It doesn't mean that I have to like the guy for being…handy. "How was Gus this morning?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Well he almost had a panic attack on the way to the building but he managed to breathe through it." That's good. Justin could never quite manage that. If Gus is controlling them somewhat that is definitely a good sign.

"And." Fuck, I can practically feel his sunshine smile through the phone.

"And?"

"He said he wouldn't mind if I called him my son."

"Well we are married now Sunshine."

"I know, but you know how I feel about the whole thing, Brian."

"Yes, I know." For at least the last ten years I've seen Justin as Gus' second father, but Justin never seemed comfortable with that title. He was always saying, "I'm fine being Justin to him. If one day he sees me as a second dad, then you know that will be really great, but he has to be the one to decide that, not me."

"Anyway, I just called to tell you that. I know you have a meeting in a few minutes and I have to get back inside to help Maddie."

"Okay." I pause. "I'm glad Gus said that."

"Me too." He's smiling again. His excitement filters through the phone, making me feel warmer than the sunlight coming in through the window.

"See you tonight."

"Later."

I remove the earpiece as I turn myself around to my desk. I smile to myself, thinking about how happy Justin is right now. Gus telling him that is a really big deal. Everyone else wouldn't even blink an eye at the revelation because they already see Justin as Gus' second father. Justin has never allowed himself to entertain that idea. Well, now he can, and it only took eighteen years.

****************************************

June 19, 2019 11:01am

Gus' POV

We're sitting in this cheesy little café that reminds me of Liberty Diner, minus all the rainbow paraphernalia. Looking across the table, I watch as Grady stirs cream into his coffee. I light a cigarette, suddenly unsure of why the hell I agreed to this. He taps the spoon against the rim of his cup before setting it aside.

He takes a sip then looks over at me. "So you just moved here?" Taking another sip of his coffee, he watches me over the rim of the cup.

"Yeah, I'm starting at SVA in the fall."

He sets his cup on the table. "It's a good school." He shrugs. "I graduated from there last spring."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Taking a drag of my cigarette, I watch him.

Laughing he replies, "Somehow I get the feeling that it would take a lot to impress you."

I shrug. "You'd be right." I take a drag of my cigarette. "What else you got?"

"To impress you with?"

Leaning back in my chair I exhale smoke. "Yeah."

Shrugging, he takes another drink of his coffee like he's seriously thinking about it. "I'm a grad student at The New York Academy of Art." I lift my eyebrow. "I have my own place in SoHo."

Leaning forward on the table, I notice the chocolate brown flecks in his eyes. "What else?"

He laughs. "There really isn't much else."

Putting out my cigarette, I lean back against the chair. "You value yourself by the things you have?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

I think about it for a minute. It's a good point and it's true. "I guess."

He takes another drink of his coffee. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Tell me anything."

"What is this, twenty questions to get to know you better?"

"Sure, let's go with that…" He pauses. "Favorite color?"

I scoff. "That's fucking lame. Couldn't you think of something better than that?"

He smiles at me. "Let's start with that."

Rolling my eyes I light another cigarette. "Brown."

"Brown?" He asks incredulously. "No one's favorite color is brown."

I watch him as I take a drag of my cigarette. "Mine is." I exhale. "Next." I think this might be one of the stupidest conversations I've ever had in my life.

"Shouldn't I have to answer that same question?"

I shrug. "Whatever. Your game, your rules." I raise an eyebrow and wait. "Well?"

"Green."

I look down at his shirt and back up at him. "Original."

"Some people think so." Right, whatever. He picks up his cup and finishes off his coffee. "Now ask me something." There's a gleam in his eyes like he's really fucking enjoying this.

"This is fucking stupid."

He sets his cup down. "Fine, we'll just sit here and stare at each other." He leans back in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

Rolling my eyes, I ask an equally lame question. "How long have you been in New York?" I use a tone of voice that says I'm only doing this to humor him.

"All my life. My parents live in Long Island."

He asks more lame questions and I follow suit, playing his game. Favorite Band: I go old school with Nine Inch Nails, he also goes old school with Nirvana. Where were you born: Pittsburgh, Los Angeles. Do you have any siblings: one sister, only child. Do you work: no, yes at the SoHo Grand Hotel as a front desk clerk. When did you get into art: Junior High, first grade (smile and laugh). What do your parents do: Mom manages an art gallery in Toronto, Ma is a lawyer, and you know what my dads do. Mom's a troubled youth counselor, and Dad's an accountant. One of my uncles is a counselor and his husband is an accountant. No shit? Moving on. Right…wait you have four parents? Yes and seven grandparents…well nine actually, but I only see four of them, and six uncles. Shit. Tell me about it. Favorite Car: BMW 751, Mercedes S800. Oh yeah? Yeah.

He's on his third cup of coffee as I light my eighth cigarette. He leans back in his chair. "When did he break up with you?"

I choke on the smoke in my lungs. "What?"

"Was it when you moved to New York?"

My pulse quickens. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the table. "In case you don't know it you project this huge fucking sadness. It's like it comes off of you in waves." He shrugs. "I just figured-"

I put out my cigarette. "You don't know shit." I stand up and then I fucking bolt.

Fuck him. Just fuck him. Who the fuck does he think he is? What the fuck does he know? Project sadness? What the fuck? What right did he have anyway asking something like that? I'm not paying attention to anything around me. My only goal is to get as far away from Grady O'Toole as I can. He thinks he can ask some lame-ass questions and then drop some big fucking bomb on me? Fuck. That.

I step off the curb. A horn honks. Rubber grinds against asphalt. A car approaches.

I turn my head and see a taxi heading right for me. I freeze.

Next Part