Chapter 5 - ‘A process in the weather of the heart’ ~o~ Michael The one thing you have to understand is I never could understand Brian Kinney. Not all of him, anyway. But I got pretty damn close. That is, before the Boy Wonder showed up. Things were simpler, before Justin. Brian was simpler. And Brian was my best friend, since I was fourteen years old. I’m sure you’ve heard me say this before and you’re thinking ‘please, shut up with that already’, but if you’ve met Brian Kinney, you might understand why staying his friend for so many years is something to point out. I was there for so much of it. I was there when Bran was still gangly and a bit awkward, but dark and mysterious, my hero - I always talk about that, when Brian saved me from the bullies and we smoked pot and jerked off thinking of Patrick Swayze, though I keep the awkward part to myself, obviously. I was there when he wasn’t heroic at all, but rather bruised and bloodied and barely holding back tears - and I never talk about that, because it scares me, even now, to remember him so hurt and vulnerable. And when we were older, every time he came to me, drunk and barely keeping it together after seeing his dad - it was just as scary. I was there, very pissed off, when he went through that pseudo-girlfriend phase with Lindsay when he left for college. I was there when he came back, sleek, beautiful and absolutely sex-driven. I saw him become the legend. I was next to him when he became Brian Kinney, for fuck’s sake. And through all that, through all those years, I was in love with him. Why did I put up with the tricks, and the drunkenness, and driving him home a second away from unconsciousness? Well, because I always thought he’d love me back, in the way I did. Because as far as I knew, I was the only guy Brian had ever let in. So I hung on, and stayed in the side-lines, and waited. ‘Don’t bother saying you’re sorry, why don’t you come in? Smoke all my cigarettes again. Every time I get no further, how long has it been? Come on in now, wipe your feet on my dreams.’ And then he showed up. I’m sure you’ve heard me go on about this, about the twink that wore out his welcome, the trick that never left, the little blond Boy Wonder - so pretty and so fucking stupid, because he fell in love with Brian Kinney and thought Brian Kinney would love him back. But the thing is - he did. And I couldn’t believe it. Because if he was gonna love someone, it should have been me. But it wasn’t. So I was doomed, again, to stay in the sidelines, and watch Brian falling deeper in love with some kid. Without even realizing it, of course. ‘Come on and kill me baby, while you smile like a friend. Oh, and I’ll come running just to do it again.’ And in typical twink fashion, Justin left him. And *I* got a punch in the face for it. You probably think I was a total asshole, saying what I did… but you didn’t see Brian, that night Justin got bashed. You didn’t sit next to him, while he didn’t move for three days, tears streaming down his face and blood on his hands, his clothes. I never knew Brian could feel that much for someone else. And then the stupid kid leaves him, for a greasy looking fiddler! They got back together, and by then I couldn’t care less. I mean, I was with Ben. So don’t you dare say I looked jealous or angry, that night in Babylon. If I was angry it was because Brian was taking the idiot back, after everything he did to him! That’s it. My life started getting busy then, busy and happy enough that I could slowly let go of my dream of Brian. There was Ben, then the ‘steroid incident’, then Hunter… and all that Hunter meant. Things were going well, and then Vic died. And Brian got cancer. I was scared, then. Because Vic made me fear for Ben, and Brian for myself. Brian Kinney was indestructible, fucking immortal. And yet, he’d gotten cancer. It brought me closer to Justin, and further apart at the same time. Still, I kinda stopped thinking about him like a stupid kid. Kinda. Then he left for L.A. I know Brian thought he’d never come back. And… I don’t know, maybe he wouldn’t have, if Rage hadn’t gotten cancelled. I guess it was around that time when Brian and I drifted apart… He’d say it was when I became a ‘Stepford fag’. I say it’s when I grew up. We were still friends - but that changed one night. When Justin left Brian. When Brian came and screamed his head off, when he insulted me… and the life I’d learned to live without him. That’s when everything came crashing down. The end of the Brian and Mikey show. I was done. Done with taking his bullshit and always forgiving him when he was an asshole. I didn’t need him anymore. ‘You are the last drink I never should have drunk, You are the body hidden in the trunk, You are the habit I can’t seem to kick…’ My mom kept looking at me like I’d kicked her puppy, and I knew Ben was thinking the same thing. So after Justin left for New York, I forgave him. We didn’t actually talk about it, but… Brian and I had drifted apart, but it was right then when he became just… impossible for me to figure out. I kept saying things, to remind him of the old days, but he wouldn’t answer like he always did. He smiled this odd smile… a sad smile, I guess, and shut me up. Or just stay quiet. I didn’t get it. Ted and Emmet seemed to understand, which was weird. And Ben would just give me this look… which stopped me from saying anything else. It was a strange time, when everyone else seemed to understand Brian better than me. Two years went by. And then, in the middle of dinner at my mom’s, Brian came out with the whole New York trip thing, for Justin’s show. I was totally confused. I mean, *I’d* talked more with the Boy Wonder than Brian… in fact, far as I knew, Brian hadn’t talked to him at all. Still, we all went to the show. And we were there to see Brian’s grand entrance (the man *always* has to make an entrance). We saw Justin’s shock and Brian’s… happiness. We saw it, but we didn’t understand any of it. At least I didn’t. That night, I had a long conversation with Ben. About Brian. “I just don’t get it, Ben. He hasn’t seen him, even talked to him, in two years! What’s this all about?” Ben just looked at me for a while, eyes thoughtful. “Well, Michael… I think it’s about Brian showing Justin he’s changed.” “Changed? Brian Kinney doesn’t change!” I mean, that was the whole problem. That’s why Justin left in the first place. “I think he does. I think he has. Think about it Michael… how often do you hear Brian’s been to Babylon? Or hear him brag about endless tricks?” “He still tricks!” “Well, yes. But not like he used to, right?” I nodded, wondering what Ben was getting at. “Think how Brian’s late nights are at work now, though. How often he sees Gus, how he hasn’t missed Sunday dinner in a long time.” Ben paused, letting me take in his words. “Brian *is* growing up. He’s… he’s become the man he always was, underneath everything else. And tonight, I guess tonight it was time to show Justin.” “But… how come he didn’t talk to me about it?” my voice sounded a bit childish, but I couldn’t help it. Ben looked at me kindly. “Michael… would you have let him?” I was confused. “Think about it. Instead of encouraging him, you kept berating him for going clubbing less… you kept teasing him, even scolding him. You didn’t want him to grow up.” And it struck me then, Ben was right. I’d been a total asshole. I had yelled at Brian when he wouldn’t grow up, and then when he had. I felt so bad… Ben took my hand then, comforting me. “It’s ok. It was hard, letting go of your youth. And Brian symbolized that. You didn’t want everything to be gone.” “But… I feel so bad. What can I do?” “Talk to him. You guys have never actually talked about what happened two years ago… and what’s happened during these two years.” I decided I would, once we were back in Pittsburgh. So here I am. Walking to Brian’s loft, pizza and beer in hand, hoping he hasn’t gone out. Trying to think of what to say. Dying to tell him I’m sorry. Desperate to get my best friend back. Wish me luck. * Brian It’s Friday night. And I’m standing in front of the window, smoking. There’s a half full glass of Beam somewhere. I’m looking out into the darkened street, thinking it might have some answers. Or maybe I just can’t find anything else to do with myself. It’s been a week since I saw Justin. I’ve kept busy, but seeing him… kissing him… it affected me more than I’d like to admit. ‘I've got your kiss Still burning on my lips’ Fuck. Everything feels so… empty. So devoid of reality. I feel like I’m living some crazy half-life, as if everything around me is part of a dream, colorless and lacking substance. It was seeing him. Touching him. It reminded me of what my life was like, once, before this emptiness. Before the numbness and the absence. Before he left. And no ad-campaign, no pitch, no trick, no drink and no drug can make me forget what I felt in that one moment. I’m the master of avoidance, the king of denial and yet I can’t escape this. I can’t escape that moment, that kiss and the fact that the waiting is killing me. It’s killing me. ‘I'm ever swiftly moving trying to escape this desire, the yearning to be near you’ I’m so absorbed in my thoughts, it takes me a moment to realize someone’s outside, knocking. Or actually, pounding. Shit, I really don’t want to see anyone right now… but whoever it is, they don’t seem to be leaving soon, so I better open up. I slide the door open and who should be there but Mikey. Pizza and beer in his hands, looking at me with *that* look in his eyes. I’m momentarily thrown back some seven years, and I shake my head to clear it of the memories. I don’t say anything, just wave him inside. I wonder what the hell brought him here. * Michael Brian finally opens the door. Thank god, my hand was starting to hurt. He’s wearing a black wifebeater and jeans with the top button undone. I’m strangely glad at least some things really don’t change. He hasn’t said anything yet, so I take a moment to look at him properly while I’m putting the box and the sixpack on top of the counter. He looks a bit disoriented, lost in his own thoughts. I’m not usually too observant, or penetrating (and don’t say ‘duh’ because sometimes I am. Really. Oh, shut up) but this time - well, this time I can see something is really wrong with Brian. He looks so fucking sad. It throws me. It’s this, more than anything, that convinces me Brian has really changed. He would have never let me see him like this before, hell, he wouldn’t have let himself feel like this. “Brian… are you… how are you?” I ask quietly. He shoots me this penetrating gaze and it’s all I can do to not look away. Finally, he clears his throat. “Not too good, Mikey. I’m afraid I won’t be much company tonight. Go home.” he takes a long drag from his cigarette, and turns to stare out the window. Every move he makes is weighed down… it hurts me to see him like this. “I… uh, I came to talk. To… to say I’m sorry.” He turns back to look at me, eyebrow raised quizzically. “Sorry? For what?” I know it’s time for my big speech, so I take a deep breath. I walk a bit closer to him, until I’m standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole, Brian.” he looks like he’s about to interrupt me, so I motion for him to stay quiet for a moment. “We haven’t really talked about what happened the night Justin left, and about what happened afterwards. I said some bad things, Brian, and you did too. I know you were hurting… but you hurt me.” He looks regretful. Hmm… it seems Brian Kinney does do regrets, after all. “Still, it doesn’t really justify how I acted after. Because, you are my best friend Brian. I just… stopped seeing you, the real you. And I realize now that you’ve been changing and growing up, and after all the things I told you, I kept coming down on you for doing what I said you should all along. So, even though I know you say sorry’s bullshit, I am sorry.” Whew. That was intense. Brian was quietly looking at me, his head a bit tilted. “Been talking with the Professor, Mikey?” he said at last, smirking. “You know the Zen in Ben will rub off.” I chuffed out a laugh. Asshole! But I saw the forgiveness and apology in his eyes, the understanding. I saw him again. Really saw him. I had my best friend back. * Brian Whatever I expected when I saw Mikey outside my door, this wasn’t it. But I’m glad this is what I got, because… shit, I’d missed him. So we ate pizza, even if it was after seven, and drank beer and got high. We talked about kids we knew in high school (turns out Mikey had seen this totally in the closet jock who’d sucked me off some time going into Meat Hook… that had me laughing for a while). We speculated on whether Drew Boyd would come back to Emmet, tried not to speculate on how Blake and Ted were doing (because no matter how high, Theodore’s sex life is still not a topic I’d like to spend any time on)… and at some point, I told him about Justin. About how much I missed him. And what I’d realized. And how I hoped he’d come back. And Mikey just listened. He didn’t say Justin was a stupid twink or that I sounded like a lesbian. He didn’t remind me Brian Kinney didn’t do love, or missing, or hoping. He just listened, and gave me another beer and another slice of pizza. Right before he left, he hugged me, gave me a kiss. “He’ll come back, Brian.” he whispered. And then he went home to the Professor. As he always should. Yeah, I’d missed him. * I was sitting on the couch, staring at nothing, still unable to forget and sleep. I felt lighter than I had in a while, because things were good with Mikey… but all the pizza and beer and joints in the world couldn’t quite make me forget, or Justin appear. And then, he did. Justin appeared. I blinked, wondering how strong that last joint had been. I hadn’t heard the door slide open, hadn’t heard the footsteps. But here was Justin, looking a bit tired but smiling, smiling at me. He’d never given me back his key. “Justin?” I whisper. “Brian…” and it's the sound of his voice that convinces me this isn’t a hallucination from some fucked up weed, but he's real and he's in front of me. I stand up, and close the space between us. I pull him to me by the shoulders, breathe him in. Justin… ‘catch the sun before it’s gone.’ I kiss him, and the taste of him is enough to bring color back into my world, I kiss him and I feel I’ve never kissed anyone before this. We should talk, and I know you think I’ve really lost it because I’m actually thinking this, but it’s the truth. I also know that before any words can be spoken and understood, I have a lot to say, the way I’ve always said things to him. So I don’t stop kissing him. I move my hand between us, slowly lifting his t-shirt, feeling the smooth skin underneath. He moans, and in that moment I take his shirt off, immediately going after the button in his jeans. They fall to the floor and I notice with a grin he isn’t wearing any underwear. “Why, Sunshine’s going commando…” “I’m impatient.” he grunts out, while licking my neck. One of his hands is rubbing my nipples, the other is doing something wicked to my denim covered crotch. I’m completely lost in sensation, so it takes me a moment to take control back. I grab Justin by the wrists, step slightly away from his writhing body. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, because more than anything I want to feel his body on mine, his skin rubbing against my skin, I’m dying to let him lick away the years and the pain and the doubt. But before I can let him do that, I have to tell him something. My way. So I lead him up the three steps to the bedroom, lie him atop the bed, and I’m reminded of how fucking perfect he looks against blue sheets. He’s not saying anything, letting me do this, but he’s desperate for me to fuck him. I go retrieve something from the closet, and come back. I straddle him, kiss him hard. He moves against me, and I grow impossibly harder. “Easy there, Sunshine.” “Brian…” he moans. I distract him with another kiss, and before he can put up a fight, I tie one and then another wrist to the discreet rings on the wall. He finally notices the silk ties restraining him, but says nothing. Just looks at me. Fuck, those eyes… lust filled, a deep, dangerous blue. I step back from the bed, and he whimpers at the loss. Without breaking eye contact, I slowly take off my wifebeater and throw it to the floor. Then, even slower, I lower my jeans and step out of them. I can hear Justin’s breathing speed up, can see how he tugs at the silk ties. I climb on top of the bed again, and straddle him. I bite back a moan at the delicious contact of his cock against mine. I want to do so much… I want to lick every bit of his body, I want to suck his cock and then rim him until he’s begging. But looking into his eyes, I know I have to fuck him *now*. And something eases in my chest when I think that after I fuck him, I can do everything else. So I grab the lube and a condom from the bedside table, toss the condom next to me and open the bottle, coat my fingers liberally. I lift his legs up and I push one finger inside, then two… He’s fucking desperate, fucking himself on my fingers, tight and warm, but so ready. “Brian… fuck me…” he begs. So I do. I tear the condom open with my mouth, roll it on my dick. My hands are shaky, and I feel - so much. Then at last, at last, I’m inside him. Fuck… I can barely think… we starts pushing back, and we move in perfect rhythm, and I remember what fucking Justin feels like, how nothing else, no other trick, can ever come close. He’s moaning, more more more, faster faster faster, and I slam into him, claiming him, branding him, reminding him he’s mine. Telling him everything. I missed you, I love you, stay with me, stay with me, stay… stay… stay… I switch the angle of my hips lightly, and when I hit his prostate his eyes roll back, he screams out. I can feel I’m not gonna last much longer, so I start jerking him off and all too soon he’s cumming and I’m cumming and my eyes close at the intensity, every cell in my body humming with pleasure. I collapse on top of him, unable to move. “Brian…” he whispers. Eventually, I slide out and toss the condom in the trash, untie him, kiss his slightly red wrists. I pull him to me, and we collapse, spent. I’m on my back, and his head is resting on my chest. There are things to say, things to settle. But right now, all that matters is he’s lying next to me. He’s lying next to me - and the emptiness is gone. * TBC Author’s note: title taken from a poem by Dylan Thomas. Songs quoted are, in order: Like a Friend by Pulp, Painted on my Heart by The Cult, Do What You Have To by Sarah McLachlan, and Catch the Sun by The Doves. Whew… this was a bit of an exhausting chapter. I was slightly scared of doing Michael POV… hope it went right… and I really hope the final scene worked. Let me know! Your feedback means SO much to me!!! :)