Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

"No need to run and hide
It's a wonderful, wonderful life
No need to hide and cry
It's a wonderful, wonderful life"

- Wonderful Life, Black (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oTljsiwkVqA)


Contrary to what everyone around him thought, Brian did have a tiny handful of good memories of his father. Good of course being relative because even the best memories were tainted by the influence of alcohol. This fact in and of itself made Brian’s later use and abuse of alcohol somewhat surprising and ironic – he was not far from following in the footsteps of his dear old dad and may have, if not for the positive influences of Michael, Debbie and Vic.

The good memories though, such as they were, were also strictly limited to Brian’s early childhood and preteen years and they all revolved around either bowling or baseball.

Jack and Joan Kinney called three places home through Brian's childhood. The first was Union, New Jersey; the second Bethlehem, Pennsylvania and the third and final place they settled down, Pittsburgh. Jack, a semi-functioning alcoholic for as long as Brian could recall, would manage to hold down a job for roughly five or so years before something would happen and they'd have to move. When they landed in Pittsburgh though, the blue-collar scene seemed to suit Jack and he found his niche. He found his group of “friends” and drinking buddies. Men that slowly over the years succumbed to various diseases brought on by their lifestyles; cirrhosis of the liver, lung cancer, emphysema, some even died driving drunk – and taking a few innocent lives with them. Eventually Jack also succumbed, despite his constant bragging about his excellent health; but not before he worked through to retirement at the same plant, in the same job, making his family miserable and unhappy the entire time.

The “good” memories didn’t continue after the move to Pittsburgh. The last semi-positive one Brian could recall was when Jack took Brian and Michael bowling but after he drunkenly slurred at them, calling them fags, Brian stopped accepting his invitations to go bowling. The first few times he declined to tag along with his father it earned him a couple closed-fisted hits upside the head – but then Jack lost interest in trying and any sort of relationship they might have had decayed away and Brian began to spend almost all his free time with Michael at his house. 

Still – as he and Justin rode in the hired Lincoln Town Car, headed towards the East Village, Brian couldn’t help but be reminded of what was probably his earliest good memory of his father, and it was of a day they spent together in New York City.

Jack Kinney, a die-hard Yankee's fan, had taken a young Brian to his first baseball game just weeks before he lost his job and the family moved from Union, New Jersey to Bethlehem. It was the first and last time Jack took Brian to a baseball game, though for years afterwards Jack would coerce Brian into watching them on television with him. By the time Brian was twelve he had ceased watching because of any interest in the game itself, only continuing to feign interest in order to see the players in their tight pants. By the time they’d moved to Pittsburgh Jack had stopped asking Brian to watch the games with him and he started going out to the bars each afternoon or evening there was a game on.

Brian wasn’t sure why his father stopped watching the games at home, but he could only imagine it had to do with getting away from Joan, who would harp on him for sitting around all day and consuming an entire case of beer on his own. He probably left to get away from Brian, who had stopped showing any interest in the games at all and had, on more than one occasion, made comments that should have tipped his dad off that he wasn’t exactly all that interested in women. He probably left to get away from Claire, who would constantly pester their dad for any approving words or glances, finally dissolving into tears when she didn’t get the attention she wanted and then Joan would start in on him and the cycle perpetuated… Brian didn’t care. He was glad when his dad wasn’t home because while his mother could be cruel in her own way, at least she didn’t hit him.

But the game they’d attended that late fall day had been one of the few bonding moments Brian could remember having with his dad. Jack had bought Brian Cracker Jacks, hot dogs, Coca-cola, and even a bag of cotton candy. He’d answered Brian’s questions and taken the time to explain the game. He’d even bought Brian a Yankee’s jersey that he wore to school for three months before a group of older kids beat him up and stole it on his way home from school. Jack had been livid when that had happened – livid at Brian and his perceived “weakness”.

For Brian, that afternoon at Yankee Stadium had been very nearly a perfect, magical day. He remembered being glad to be away from home where no one did anything but fight, and away from the harsh, judgmental eye of his mother. But on the bus ride home Jack had gotten into a drunken fist fight with another passenger and they had all been kicked off the bus, Jack and Brian several miles from their stop. When Brian, scared and upset at seeing his father punched and bleeding, had asked how they were going to get home he had received a heavy-handed smack to the head and a few choice words about “fucking using your damn legs and walking”. When Brian started crying at the abrupt turn of events Jack proceeded to yell at him and call him names the entire walk home.

Brian had been six years old.

That was how most of Brian’s “good” memories ended. With a drunken Jack attacking Brian for something he was perceived to have done, some unknown slight that had offended Jack’s drunk sensibilities. So they were “good” memories – relatively.

Though it was on his mind, Brian didn’t tell Justin about it. He no longer cared anything about baseball or any other sport – though he couldn’t help but imagine how excited Gus might be to go to a baseball game and he made a mental note to talk to Lindsay about it when they got back.

Brian rode in silence, letting Justin regale him with tales of his time in the city – he was pointing out bars and clubs and restaurants. They even drove past the illustrious Victor’s and Brian was immediately turned off by its garish exterior. Justin laughed when Brian screwed up his nose in disgust, assuring him that at night it looked a lot swankier. Brian didn’t believe him, and really didn’t care. All he cared about was that Justin didn’t have to work in a place like that anymore, and that the fucker who had been stalking him was safely behind bars. And he still was, at least as of the day before.

Driving through the streets of New York listening to Justin go on and on about some of his favorite cafes and coffee shops, Brian felt the old desire rising up in him again – his desire to move to New York. He had long since quashed that dream – life and circumstances had worked against him in that regard and he was fairly stuck where he was. But it didn’t stop him dreaming of eventually bringing Kinnetik to the Big Apple. Whether it was he running the office or not remained to be seen, but he would expand his business. Of that he was certain. He still wanted to conquer New York.

It would have to wait, though. He couldn't uproot Gus, and he wasn't sure how Lindsay would respond to the move either. Now that she was beginning to get comfortable, and she and Gus were building a good relationship with her parents. Of course he could always move by himself, leave Lindsay and Gus with the house...but the thought of leaving Gus behind after being his sole caretaker for seven months actually caused Brian physical pain. He couldn't, and wouldn't, leave Gus. Not for anything and not after all they’d been through since the accident. It was too late for that, now.

Brian nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments as Justin narrated their drive, even though he was mostly thinking about other things. When the car finally pulled up in front of the six-story red brick building Justin had called home for nine months, Brian grimaced. It wasn’t ramshackle, per se, but it was certainly more run down than he’d imagined.

“What do you think,” Justin laughed as they disembarked. The car driver began to unload their bags onto the sidewalk as Brian simply stood and stared, his mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust.

“I think this is atrocious,” he replied.

Justin hit him lightly in the stomach before turning to retrieve some of their bags.

“Stop,” Brian turned to face Justin, shaking his head. “Sorry, Sunshine, but I’m not staying here.”

“Brian,” Justin sighed.

“No,” Brian turned to the driver who had the last bag in his hands, about to set it on the sidewalk.

“Put them back in,” Brian indicated to the bags as he moved forward and pressed a $100 into the man’s hands, “and wait for us.”

“Whatever you say,” the man shrugged and pocketing the cash, he proceeded to reload the bags into the trunk of the car.

“Let’s go,” Brian nodded to Justin.

It took them approximately two hours to pack up the rest of Justin’s clothes and scattered art supplies.

The unfinished painting that was the impetus behind the trip to the city was one Justin had started just days before he’d left. It was, he’s told Brian, the first time he’d taken his work outside of the studio. The first time he’d painted in public. He told Brian how he’d been exploring in Central Park one afternoon and had come upon Strawberry Fields. He knew about the site of course but had never seen it and while standing there he’d been struck by the tragedy of John Lennon’s death. The following day he’d returned to the spot with an easel, a canvas, some paints, and he’d started working. It was two days later that his studio was trashed and he’d returned to Pittsburgh leaving the partially painted canvas abandoned and lingering. Now he was anxious to finish the painting. As he said to Brian, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, and his hands actually ached to hold the brush and make the strokes.

The bags and canvas safely stowed in the trunk of the car, Justin went back up to do one last walk through and to get the last few things he was sure were scattered around the apartment. Brian laughed because if Justin lived here like he’d lived at the loft, then his things would and could be in every corner of every room – strewn about and marking his presence at every turn. Brian smiled at the blonde’s retreating back as he made a call to his travel agent and after a brief conversation he hung up, waiting for Justin to come back down and for his agent to call back.

His refusal to stay at Justin’s apartment was not only because it wasn’t up to standards, but he also wanted some privacy. He didn’t want to worry about making too much noise and disturbing Annette, or Amy, or whoever the fuck his roommate was. He also wanted Justin to be close to the park so he could paint and easily get himself and his things to and from the site.

It was perfectly timed. Brian phone rang just as Justin emerged from the building with a small cloth bag in hand. Brian answered, listened, smiled at Justin and earning a small, confused smile in return. He didn’t say much, simply snapping the phone shut before opening the car door for Justin and instructing the driver to take them to The Plaza Hotel.


“This is too much,” Justin kept saying, over and over as he wandered the rooms of the suite. Brian had been able to book The Royal Terrace Suite when there was a last minute cancellation. He had been lucky, and he knew it. Getting a suite, same-day, at the Plaza could be nearly impossible.

After being showed to their room, Brian had tipped the bellhop a significant amount and told him they would be fine to unpack their own bags – they didn’t require the “Butler Service” to help – though Brian did request several bottles of wine, and a bottle of Chivas-Regal be stocked in the bar. The bellhop said it would be done right away. As he left he cast an obvious, judgmental stare at Justin and his several scruffy duffel bags. Brian felt an urge to kick him in ass, literally, but settled on giving the bellhop an obvious, judgmental stare of his own. Still – Justin needed real luggage and so Brian mentally noted that his first order of business would be to get him a nice luggage set.

“There’s two floors?” Justin looked up the staircase before glancing back at Brian, his mouth agape.

“Seriously, this is too much,” he said again, placing one foot on the bottom step.

“I want to be comfortable, and I want you to be comfortable. And there’s no rush to finish. I want you to be completely contented with your finished product,” Brian said as he crossed the room in a few long strides, pressing his body against Justin’s back and wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist. He lowered his nose to his hair and inhaled. He could get used to this. Hell, he was already used to this.

“What do you say we christen the bedroom?” Brian whispered, moving his head so his lips were pressed to Justin’s ear. He felt the other man shiver slightly as he leaned back into Brian’s embrace.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Justin whispered back, twisting his head to meet Brian’s lips. When they broke apart Brian nudged Justin up the stairs and they spent the rest of the afternoon and much of the evening alternately in the bed and the shower, only taking a break once to order some room service and to drink some of the alcohol that had magically appeared in the bar while they had been upstairs, busy.


Justin was up early the next morning – at least it was early according to Brian’s standards, for a Sunday. Glancing at the bedside clock he groaned.

“Eight thirty? Are you kidding?”

Justin offered a laugh before he crawled across the bed to lie on top of Brian. Brian was still naked, and sporting a rather stiff morning hard-on, but he was disappointed to see Justin fully clothed and even wearing a jacket.

“It’s a gorgeous morning and the light is perfect,” Justin crooned as he kissed Brian’s neck and jawline softly.

“But I need taken care of,” Brian lifted his hips slightly to press his cock against Justin.

Justin sighed, and Brian heard his apology in it. Closing his eyes, Brian shook his head once.

“Go,” he smiled before grasping the back of Justin’s neck and giving him a proper good morning kiss. “I’ll be there shortly with some coffee and food. You can’t paint brilliantly on an empty stomach.”

“I love you,” Justin smiled and with a soft peck on the lips he rose and started for the door, shouldering a large, paint-stained bag and giving Brian one more brilliant smile over his shoulder.

Brian, grabbing his cock and going to work on alleviating his problem on his own, listened with a comfortable contentedness as Justin’s footsteps echoed down the wood staircase. A few moments later he heard the almost inaudible click of the door to the suite closing.

Brian rose and moved to the shower where he knew he could take care of business more quickly, rushing through his morning routine to get ready. He was suddenly overcome with a desire to watch Justin paint. He’d rarely seen him work before – not for an extended amount of time – but the few times he had watched it had been fascinating. And erotic.

An hour later Brian found Justin settled under the colorful branches of a large American Elm. It was early October so while the trees were still boasting color, they were starting to dull and Brian noticed that leaves were beginning to fall quickly to the ground. Any little gust of air would send a shower of yellow and red and orange raining down.

Brian held two coffees and bag of croissants. He wasn’t sure if he should disturb Justin though. The look of concentration on his face gave Brian the impression that he wouldn’t stop to eat or drink – hell, he wasn’t sure he would stop to fuck, even.

Deciding that Justin needed sustenance more than to be left alone, Brian approached him, observing how a small red leaf had landed and tangled in his hair. The contrast of the red on blonde was arousing and Brian wordlessly set the coffee carrier on the ground before reaching out and tenderly pulling the leaf from his hair. Justin turned to him then, a smile on his lips and his eyes bright with excitement.

He looked how Brian felt inside – full of joy, and happiness, and loving life.

“Leaf,” Brian smirked before he leaned in and gave Justin a soft kiss.

“I have coffee,” Brian leaned down and grabbed one of the two cups, offering it to Justin.

“And croissants,” he smiled.

Justin accepted the coffee, taking a sip before putting his paintbrush into a small cup of water that was already black from use.

“Been hard at work I see,” Brian examined the canvas. There was more to the scene, more background filled in and a piece of the Imagine mosaic in the concrete was peeking in the corner of the painting. There was still a gaping hole in the middle though, and Brian wondered what Justin had planned for that portion.

The painting was a kaleidoscope of red and yellow and orange, with bright flashes of blue in the sky and a mixture of grays and blacks and blues for the pathways. It was looking amazing and Brian felt a compulsion to tell Justin he wanted it when it was done but he wasn’t sure the other man would, at the moment, appreciate the gesture. But Brian knew he wanted the painting. It was just like when he’d heard the description of the painting Justin had done of him under the streetlamp. He’d known he’d wanted that one, too. And this once, even though it was incomplete, was calling to him. He was feeling a visceral reaction to it and it wasn’t even done yet.

“Still have a ways to go,” Justin shrugged as he grabbed Brian’s elbow and lead him towards one of the many benches nearby.

They ate the warm, fresh croissants in silence, sitting side by side, their knees brushing and their shoulders pressing into each other. Brian was so comfortable and at ease he was beginning to get scared. Things couldn’t be this good and this easy forever, right?

Justin soon resumed his painting, and so Brian pulled out some work from his briefcase. He had a bit of Kinnetik business to do before Monday that thankfully didn’t require an internet connection. Not that he got much done, the allure of watching Justin paint too much of a distraction.

Strawberry Fields Memorial was a quiet corner of the park and aside from the John Lennon fans that trickled in and out, posing over the Imagine tile mosaic, there were few people. As such, Brian noticed when someone new entered into his field of view.

Though he knew the guy who had been following Justin, and who had trashed his studio, was still in jail (Brian had called again that morning to make sure) Brian couldn’t help but feel his suspicions rise when a man would enter the memorial garden area and linger a little too long or pay a little too much attention to Justin. But every time the man would eventually leave, or meet up with a group of friends or a woman, and Brian would relax once again. There were no shortage of creeps in the city, and though the guy who had given Justin so many problems was likely out of the picture for good, that didn’t mean Justin was safe and Brian, no matter how bored, or stiff, or warm, or cold he might get, would stay and watch. He would make sure Justin wasn’t hurt again – by anyone.

By early afternoon Brian was beginning to feel restless. He’d already finished the work he was able to do without internet, and he’d gone out into the park to get him and Justin some lunch from the first food cart he could find. Still – the day was winding down and Brian wanted a change of scenery; not that it wasn’t beautiful in the garden, but he was tired of the parade of people coming through. Tired of watching hetero PDA’s and tired of giggling and sometimes crying groups of Lennon fangirls. Brian wanted to take Justin back to their suite and fuck him over and over. Staring at him all day, with dappled sunlight coloring his pale skin and making his eyes pop bright and blue had only given Brian one of the worst cases of blue balls he could remember in a long while.

Finally, around 4 in the afternoon, Justin started packing up his stuff.

Brian, who had been wandering the immediate area in an attempt to work out the restlessness in his legs, practically sprinted towards the younger man.

“Done for the day then?” Brian said, wishing he could help pack up but not knowing what to do. So he just stood and watched.

“You don’t have to sit here all day you know,” Justin smiled at him, “you should go shopping or something. There are a ton of high-end stores on Fifth Avenue. Go get some new suits or something.”

Brian just smiled.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Justin added.

“I’m not-,” Brian started but when Justin raised his eyebrows at him Brian just shrugged.

“I like to watch you work,” Brian said instead. It wasn’t a lie. He did like to watch him work. He supposed he could tell Justin his real reasons for wanting to stay nearby, but what good would it do? It’d likely make Justin feel like Brian didn’t think he was capable of taking care of himself, which he was. Brian didn’t doubt that but that’s how Justin would probably see it. He also didn’t want to give Justin reason to be suspicious of everyone around him. It had taken months for him to be comfortable to be alone in crowds again after the bashing. There was no need to dredge up those old fears and anxieties just because Brian was feeling his own kind of fear and anxiety.

“Mmmmmhmmmm,” Justin hummed, looking at Brian like he knew he was lying, but he was okay with it. Brian sighed inwardly. The little shit probably knew exactly what Brian was doing.

“The faster you pack up, the faster we can get back to the room where I can fuck your brains out,” Brian switched gears, growling in a low voice in Justin’s ear as he gently wrapped his brushes and tucked them into the bag.

Justin flushed at that, and Brian offered a small chuckle. It worked though. Justin hastily shoved his paints into the bag, folded the small table into a manageable rectangle and crammed that into the bag as well. He was a bit more careful with the canvas, but it was obvious he was hurrying.

They barely made it through the door before Brian carefully took the canvas and shoulder bag from Justin, leaning the painting against the wall and dropping the bag on the floor and then he was wrapping his arms around the other man and lifting him at the waist as he pressed their mouths together and moving down the short corridor into the suite. They made it to the living room before Justin was wriggling in Brian’s arms. Setting him down, the blonde promptly stripped off all his clothes and not a few minutes later he was lying on his back on the sofa while Brian hovered over him, thrusting and grunting into him.

Justin’s legs were squeezed tight around Brian’s waist as he lifted his hips to meet Brian’s thrusts. Brian felt like he couldn’t get in deep enough, and with Justin panting and begging him to go “harder” and “deeper” Brian wasn’t so sure he would be able to hold on much longer.

In the end they came at the same time, which they almost always did, even when Brian thought he wouldn’t be able to wait. It would seem that after nearly five years of sex they had learned how to read each other so well that there was no need to pace and time things. They simply knew.

Brian pulled Justin up from the sofa after they’d come, and they kissed for several long minutes before they went up the stairs to the en suite shower where they fucked again – hard and fast – and Justin shot his load all over the glass door of the shower, crying out loudly as he did. Justin wasn’t usually too vocal, but when he was it drove Brian crazy.

When they emerged from the shower, satiated for each other, for the moment, Brian suggested they go out to dinner. Before he’d left that morning he’d asked the Concierge to leave him a list of the top five best restaurants within walking distance, as well as the names and addresses of the best gay clubs in the area (if any).

He’d barely noticed there’d been a printout sitting on the dining table down in the living room and he thought that might be list he had requested. Leaving Justin for a moment to dress, he ran downstairs and retrieved it.

He was about to treat Justin to the night of his life, out on the town. He had the means to do it, so why the hell shouldn’t he give Justin the best of everything?


Justin didn’t wake as early the following morning. They had been out late – returning to the hotel sometime after 4 am. They were both a little drunk and of course frisky so Brian led Justin out onto the terrace attached to their suite and they fucked on the cool stones. Brian let Justin ride him and when he woke the next morning, near 10am, his back ached not only from being pressed against the hard surface but because there were also a few small scratches from writhing on the rough stones. It had been worth it, though. There was nothing like the sensation of Justin on top of him, and no greater view than to watch the younger man above him, rhythmically thrusting his hips. Though he would never admit it to Justin and though he didn’t let him do it all that often, he preferred that position over most of the others. He supposed that was why he did it so rarely. To preserve the joy and eroticism it brought to him.

They showered together that morning, and Justin applied some antibacterial cream to the scratches on Brian’s back. Then he surprised Brian by sinking to his knees and spreading Brian’s cheeks, rimming him with gusto while one hand fondled his balls and another stroked his cock. Brain let himself fall over the sink vanity, spreading his legs to give Justin access and succumbing to the moment. Like getting fucked, Brian rarely let Justin rim him, and before he stopped tricking he never let anyone else do it, either. He’d accept blow-jobs and maybe, maybe a finger up his ass, but never anyone’s tongue and never anyone’s dick.

Justin was the exception. Always was – for so many things.

Brian came loudly, before he sank to his knees, panting and letting Justin run his hands all over his chest. His hands were smearing his cum all over, but also just feeling him – the gentle pressure of his touch comforting and bringing Brian back to the present. He could let Justin touch him forever.

After another quick shower, they walked to Central Park together stopping for coffee and croissants before winding their way through the park to Strawberry Fields. Justin had told Brian he was just about done and might need one more day after this one before the painting would be complete. He still refused to tell Brian what the empty space in the center was for. But his refusal came with a teasing smirk, so Brian had a sense it might have something to do with him. Or with them.

Settling on the same bench he’d occupied the day before, Brian opened the newspaper he’d grabbed from the Concierge at the hotel and started to catch up on World and Local news.

The small memorial section of Central Park was busier than the day before. Brian guessed because it was only a few more days to John Lennon’s birthday – the influx of visitors seemed to all be focused on the Imagine mosaic in the concrete. There was already a healthy monument of fresh flowers adorning it – more than what had been there when they’d left the day before. Brian resigned himself to there being a lot more people coming through and he really did hope Justin was close to being finished.

Brian was just turning the page of the newspaper after noting the presence of a Sutton Brewery White Water Pale Ale ad, when movement caught his eye. Justin, who had been busy working last time Brian had looked up, was now talking to a strange man. He was facing away so Brian couldn’t see his expression but it didn’t matter. A vice grip of fear seized him and he tossed his paper to the side and stood, crossing the short distance very quickly.

Striding up to Justin’s side, ready to defend him if need be, he was caught off-guard to hear the light-hearted sound of Justin’s laugh.

“Hey,” Brian put his arm around Justin’s shoulder and pressed a light kiss to his temple.

“Hello,” the stranger said with a pleasant smile. He was slightly older, with graying hair at his temples and deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“Brian, this is Heath Veritate*,” Justin grinned up at Brian as he spoke.

Heath Veritate…Brian knew he’d heard that name before. But where?

“The Veritate Gallery*,” Justin said softly, helping Brian along.

Oh shit.

The Veritate Gallery was an art gallery that first opened its doors in the late 90’s. Heath Veritate had previously been a curator at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, but had left to start his own gallery when he’d run into frustrations with getting any of the artists he’d recommended actually into shows at the MOMA. He and his successful gallery had been featured in the same issue of Art Forum as Justin.

“Good to meet you,” Brian straightened up just slightly and reached out his right hand, “Brian Kinney.”

“Pleasure,” Heath smiled as he shook Brian’s hand.

“Justin, please let me know what you decide. I would love to have you. Have a pleasant afternoon,” Heath turned back to the blonde and with a warm smile he nodded to them both and left.

“Decide? Have you as what? What’s going on?” Brian asked, unable to stop the sinking feeling in his chest. When Justin turned to him with a wide grin Brian felt the ground beneath him give way and he was falling.

“I think I’ve finally been discovered,” Justin said with a laugh before he grabbed the sides of Brian’s face and pressed their lips together.


Indeed he had been discovered. And not just by some out of town art critic who would write a fawning review and then leave for Europe soon after, but by a real artist, the owner of one of the most prestigious art galleries in the city. An art gallery that has had four artists in the last two years go on to have their pieces shown at the MOMA in the Emerging Artists showcase*.

Fuck.

This was Justin’s dream come true, and Brian instinctually knew this would not end well for him. He could already feel the preemptive pain of the inevitable separation and he hated himself for the resentment he was feeling for Justin finally getting some highly deserved and earned attention. Brian was committed to Justin's happiness, even at the expense of his own if necessary, but this was too much. Things had just settled down with them again and now this was happening? In what world would the fates be so cruel? Brian wanted to laugh. It was just his luck. He and Justin had never been good with their timing.

Justin’s cheeks were flushed and there was a definite excitement in his voice as he told Brian about the offer to show some of his works in the winter show at the gallery. It was an excitement Brian hadn’t heard or seen in him since they had been planning their doomed wedding. As Justin gushed about his plans to visit the gallery in the coming days Brian couldn’t help but begin to mentally prepare for a trip home, alone.

Later that day - after the perfect afternoon light had faded and Justin was done painting, they took the unfinished canvas back to the hotel room and Justin suggested they walk in the park together. It was a pleasant, Indian summer day; far warmer than it should be for early October. Perfect for a stroll through Central Park as apparently many other people also thought. The paths were thick with groups of people; come couples, some walking alone. Not that Justin noticed any of it. He was flying high, so damn excited about the prospect of being part of a well known, well respected, prestigious art show it would seem he hadn't noticed how Brian's mood had shifted. Or if he had noticed, he wasn't saying anything.

Brian, for his part, was trying to be as supportive as he could but a part of him was slowly dying. After everything they'd gone through in the last six months, both together and apart, Brian couldn't believe it was all happening again; the cycle was repeating itself. He had to wonder if there would ever be a moment that he and Justin would finally be together. Would they ever be at the same place in their lives at the same time?

It was funny, really. After all the changes he'd made in his life, all the introspection he'd done, all the growing and maturing he'd fought tooth and nail only later to succumb too, he couldn't believe that once again Justin would be pulled from his life. Snatched away just as they were settling down, getting comfortable with each other; committed. Brian was happy for him of course. And certainly proud that he was finally gaining the recognition that should have come a lot sooner and in a much easier way, but he had also finally come to terms with growing up; to building a life with his very non-traditional family. With Justin.

"I can't believe this," Justin laughed for the tenth time since they’d dropped the canvas back at the hotel.

Brian smiled and nodded.

"Can you believe this?" Justin asked and Brian shrugged.

"Yeah," he simply said. There must have been something in his tone of voice or in his expression because for the first time since he’d been approached by Heath, Justin’s joyful grin faltered.

"What's wrong," he said, and Brian could hear a hint of fear in his voice.

"Nothing," Brian smiled but it felt false and he knew Justin didn't believe its sincerity either.

"Brian," he reached a hand out, placing it on Brian's forearm and forcing him to stop, "what's wrong?"

"It's just-," Brian faltered, unsure of how to continue. He may be growing up as it were, committing himself emotionally and physically to Justin, but that didn't mean it was any easier for him to talk about his feelings or admit his neuroses out loud – and especially not to Justin. The last thing he wanted to do was dampen the excitement of this opportunity. He fucking deserved it and Brian would be the biggest asshole there ever was for bringing him down just because he was insecure and feeling like he was losing Justin all over again.

"We'll have to find you a safer place to stay," Brian finally said, swallowing his fears and leaving unspoken the real reason he wasn't as excited as Justin; namely that this felt like another goodbye. And not a ‘maybe I'll see you again soon’ goodbye, but a ‘Justin will be a permanent New Yorker’ goodbye.

All Justin had needed since he'd first arrived in the city was one chance and finally now, after ten months, this art show could be it. One chance meeting in an out of the way corner of Central Park had changed everything. If there was ever anything to make Brian reconsider his views on fate and destiny it was this. This was the start of everything for Justin. And more than likely the start of the end for them. Fucking again.

"Okay…why?" Justin said slowly, his confused expression seeming to indicate he didn't quite recognize things the same way Brian was.

"Because you'll have to stay," Brian responded, surprised Justin didn't realize the ramifications of this development. Surprised he didn’t understand that what he was being offered meant a lot more than just getting his art out there. It meant being present and showing his face and…living in New York.

"No I won’t have to stay,” Justin cocked his head slightly and stared at Brian for a moment.

“I'm not staying," Justin reiterated as he shook his head.

Brian screwed up his face with frustration. Was he now going to throw this opportunity away? Just like that?

"You have to," Brian responded. “How do you expect to make yourself the next big thing in the art world while you live in the armpit of Pennsylvania? Or I should say, West Virginia.”

Justin was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching Brian’s face. The scrutiny was uncomfortable, and Brian felt the urge to erect his walls; to dust off that mask of nonchalance that he’d put away long ago – at least when it came to Justin. But he didn’t. This was important and they needed to understand each other and be on the same page regarding this art show and Justin’s future career.

"No, I don't have to,” Justin said finally. “I can paint just as easily in Pittsburgh," Justin threaded his arm through Brian’s and started walking again.

"It will probably require a lot of traveling but I don’t care. I'm not staying here, not without you. Fuck, I don't want to stay here. I want to be with you. And with Gus. I don't care how much harder that might make things because if it's meant to happen, it will. I just know I'm not leaving you again. No matter what you say, no matter what it may or may not mean for my art. I’m not giving up on us again. You are worth more to me than any fame, or fortune, or success."

“Justin,” Brian sighed. It felt too much like before – like a sacrifice he shouldn’t be making and no matter how hard he tried to accept Justin’s decision, it still felt wrong.

“No. Stop,” Justin came to a stop again, turning and looking up at Brian. “Fame and success are fleeting. Who knows how long any of it will last? Maybe I’ll make it big with this show, or maybe I’ll flop. Maybe I’ll sustain a career for three decades or maybe I’ll last one year. I have no questions about you. You are constant.”

Brian opened his mouth to speak but Justin shook his head.

“I know it probably sounds trite after the last six months but it’s true. Even at your worst I never doubted your love, and I never will. I feel secure in it. I flat-out refuse to give that up,” Justin stared hard at Brian.

“I know you haven’t made me any promises or commitments and really, I don’t want them. We work best when we just let life happen. We don’t need to promise each other our lives because we don’t know what will happen. What I do know is that you won’t willingly leave me. Maybe you don’t know it,” Justin grinned and Brian had to roll his eyes, “but I know it. And that’s enough. So drop it, okay? I’m not staying here.”

Brian sighed and pulled Justin into a tight embrace. He was right. Brian had no plans to live his life with anyone other than Justin. He’d let him go if he ever wanted to leave, but he would keep him close and safe until then. Committed? Yeah – he supposed he really was. Promises? Well, they tried that once and it backfired so for now, nothing promised – at least not out loud. Brian had long ago promised himself to make sure Justin was happy, and safe, and taken care of. All Brian really wanted was Justin happy and with him. If handling things this way was how that result was achieved, Brian couldn’t argue it. It was Justin’s life after all, he did have the final say. Still…

“How will you ever pay me back the thousands you own me for your aborted education, though?” Brian smirked, filing away the remaining doubts he felt into the dark recesses of his head and locking the door on them. He just wanted to see Justin smile and laugh and be happy.

Releasing his hold on Justin they resumed walking – Justin’s arm finding its way back through Brian’s again.

“I guess we’ll have to figure out something,” he laughed softly before leaning his head on Brian’s shoulder for a brief moment.

He still wasn't sure Justin wasn't being entirely too romantic, and not thinking clearly, but if Brian had learned one thing in the last year or so it was not to try and manipulate or control those around him. Especially Justin. He was an adult and he could make his own decisions. Brian couldn't spend his time worrying what the reasons for those decisions were because it would make him crazy, just as it would if he attempted to manipulate Justin into doing what he thought was best. They'd been down that road more than once, and Brian didn't have the energy to travel it again.

"I guess we will," Brian said softly, pulling his arm from Justin’s hold and reaching across his shoulders to pull the younger man closer to him.


The Royal Terrace Suite

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http://www.fairmont.com/the-plaza-new-york/accommodations/suites/

The view from the Terrace

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Strawberry Fields 

 photo strawberry-fields-l_zpsc9b1e49b.jpg

 photo Strawberry_Fields_Memorial_zpsc8fbe76b.jpg

 

 

 

Chapter End Notes:

I briefly considered trying to tie in a real gallery but in the end decided to fake it with Heath Veritate and The Veritate Gallery. I also made up the MOMA Emerging Artists showcase. I don't doubt MOMA does something similar but I decided to just take creative license with this aspect rather than try to make it fit into some existing structure. Plus, if you wanted this chapter sooner rather then later I had to forego doing too much research! Anyway - please forgive any errors, they are all mine. I did try to portray The Plaza and Strawberry Fields as I know and have seen them, but I've only visited NYC once, so I relied on the Interwebz. :)

Thank you for reading and commenting. I hope those of you who have remained silent will start to speak up as we near the conclusion of this tale. I would love to know what you liked, and what you didn't! It helps me be a better writer!

Have a good week everyone!

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