Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction
Story Notes:

This is NOT a B/J death fic, so don't worry!  This is just a little something that came to me and I had to write it down. Hope you like it.

 

I knelt down on the early morning grass, still wet with dew.  Uncaring of how the dampness was slowly seeping into the knees of my jeans, I sat there in quiet contemplation with my hands on my thighs, so many memories and visions passing through my mind:

 

My fifth birthday party, blowing out the big, fat candles in one breath as my mother and father stood nearby and smiled and clapped in support;


My first successful bicycle ride on two wheels as I wobbled and weaved uncertainly left and right down the flat driveway and out into our neighborhood cul-de-sac, my father's push at my back giving me the courage and encouragement to strike out on my own;


My first touchdown in Pee Wee football at the age of eight, the excited screams of my parents music to my ears as I beamed back at them as they stood up and cheered from the weathered, wooden stands;


My first art ribbon in middle school at the age of 11, proudly displayed in a thick shadowbox with the drawing of my sister alongside it as it hung prominently above my father's desk at his store;


My father spending hours upon hours with me, teaching me the proper way to perform a waltz so I could impress the girls at my first junior high school boy/girl dance.  Even though I never actually got to USE any of the formal steps at the actual dance and I was more fascinated with the guys, I was nonetheless thrilled by all the time he spent showing them to me.


Practicing for my driver's test at the local shopping mall after hours with my dad, preparing to test for my learner's permit, and remembering how proud my father was when I passed with flying colors the very first time and waved the evidence of it gleefully in front of his smiling face.

 

As I looked over at the rectangular object in front of me, I couldn't help remembering the other times as well:

 

My father's face of disgust as I finally admitted that I was gay and liked cock;


My father's violence toward Brian and anyone else who dared to look 'different' to him;


My father's indifference to the day I almost lost my life as he intentionally turned his back on me and never visited me in the hospital or at home afterward;


My father's refusal to help pay for my college tuition and pursue my most cherished dream;


My father putting me in jail as I protested in front of his store, even granting an interview to the press later about how disruptive and unreasonable I and the others were being;


My father attending my sister's graduation a year ago and refusing to acknowledge me as being there, even after I spoke to him;

 

And my father telling his oncology doctor not to allow me entrance to his room, even on his death bed.

 

I had anticipated as I sat there that finally some tears might fall for at least what might have been, but oddly enough my eyes remained dry as I reached over to finger the etched lettering on the tombstone with my gloved hand:

Craig's Tombstone

 

I felt Brian's hand just then on my shoulder as he gave it a squeeze; I turned my head to see his wedding band gleaming in the light of the just risen sun as he asked me quietly, "Ready to go?"

 

I rose to my feet and nodded as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me softly.  Sliding his hand around my waist, together we walked the few feet over to our vehicle and got in.  As Brian slowly pulled back onto the gravel road leading out of the cemetery, I never looked back.

 

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