Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction


TWENTY, NINETEEN, EIGHTEEN…


What is this, a missile launch?


A very tired and very grumpy blonde vampire stared up at the little red numbers as they counted down on the microwave, his face nearly buried against the table where his arms were crossed. Why did everything have to remind him of Brian? Why now? He was pretty sure that, even when he had been madly in love with the darker man, he hadn’t thought about him this much. A week since his face-to-face rejection, and now even the microwave was making him think of Brian.


…SEVENTEEN


What is with kids today?


“Just want to get laid like everybody else,” Justin mumbled dejectedly into his sleeve.


“Tell me about it,” Evan said from his post by the microwave, interrupting the younger vampire’s thoughts. The timer beeped, and he popped open the door. “Here.”


Justin glanced up, eyeing the glass of dark liquid as it was handed to him. He took it from Evan as the other man poured his own. Coming over to join him at the table, the wiry man raised his own glass as if in toast to something. “Here’s to breakfast. All eight gelatinous ounces of it.”


He sipped from his glass, and Justin from his. But only Justin set his back down onto the table. The disparate young blonde watched as his counterpart downed his own meal in less than fifteen seconds. Once he’d finished and looked back up, the dark-haired vampire imparted, “You’ve got to drink it in one go.”


“I’m not sure I could,” Justin admitted. He hated drinking blood. Somehow, the artist felt sure that he was the worst vampire ever. Shouldn’t there be an instinctual drive for this stuff? How could he hate it so? “It’s pretty gross.”


Across the table, Evan was trying to be positive. “Eh, there’re worse things you could be drinking.”


Justin rolled his eyes. Detrimentally, he thought of Brian’s juicer. “Yeah, I guess so.” Rotating his glass with a thoughtful finger, he wondered aloud, “Is real blood like this?”


“This is real blood.”


The more experienced vampire received an impatient scowl, “You know what I mean.” Evan had told Justin that he’d drank from people a few times, and the blonde hadn’t been able to forget it. “Like, real blood.”


“You mean blood from the vein?” Evan grinned. “It’s better. Blood coagulates outside the body, so they add chemicals and shit to this stuff, to keep it more or less liquid. But… yeah it’s never the same.”


“Hm.” Justin sipped again at his own helping. He knew he had to drink it, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d rather have had a cheeseburger. But it had already been explained to him how bad of an idea that was. Due to their very slow metabolisms, vampires who tried to go around eating cheeseburgers got fat really fast. “Shit,” Justin cursed over his next sip. “I wish we could just go out and do that instead.”


“—Do what?”


Eat cheeseburgers. “Drink blood from people.”


Justin had answered aloud before he’d even registered that a new voice had asked him the question—not Evan. Both young men glanced up from the table to see their counselor standing, framed in the kitchen’s small doorway. “Hey, shrink man,” Evan greeted.


“Evan,” Aiden nodded. “Justin.”


Justin gave a clipped wave of the hand. “Hi.”


“You were talking about something before I came in,” the counselor said meaningfully. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”


Justin wasn’t stupid. He could tell that Aiden very much intended to hear what it was they were discussing. He was kind of a busy-body that way. Sighing, he simply repeated what’d he’d just said, “I was saying I wish we didn’t have to drink this from bottles.” He lifted his half-full glass to illustrate his point. “I don’t see why we can’t do it the other way.”


“The ‘other’ way?” Aiden repeated humorlessly. “From people you mean.”


Both of the young men averted their gazes. “Why not?” Justin asked first. “Other people do. It’s not illegal or anything.” He’d become well aware—again, through Evan—that there were plenty of vampires out in the world who didn’t get their regular meals mail-ordered.


“Yeah,” Evan said in support, a shit-stirring gleam in his eyes, “What’s the point in putting up with this,” At this, he gestured to Justin’s still-unfinished breakfast, “when the real thing’s so much better? I vote that we change house rules. Let’s go organic.”


Justin snorted at the terminology, while Aiden frowned even deeper. “You’re free to do whatever you want. But if you want to continue living in this residential facility, then you have to follow the rules. No blood from the vein. Period.” The oldest vampire’s gaze was fixed solely on Evan as he made his assertion, a distinction which did not go unnoticed by the blonde of the trio. Both young men watched as their mentor turned to depart, leaving them in silence once again.


“…Nazi,” Evan mumbled darkly.


“He doesn’t like you much, huh?”


The darker vampire gave a wicked grin from across the way. “Not since I snuck out my second week here and had a bit of fun.”


Justin raised his eyebrows, “A ‘bit of fun’?” He couldn’t help but listen with eager ears, as Evan spoke,


“It wasn’t anything crazy. I just left the house one night. Took this other guy with me. That was mistake number one.”


Justin nodded. New residents were heavily discouraged from leaving until they’d been there a little while. “Well what happened?”


Evan shrugged, “I met up with some people I know, got some good drugs, went over to the clubs on Liberty with some groupies, and had a fucking awesome time. Aiden turns the story into some big thing, but it really wasn’t.”


To the side, Justin vaguely wondered what Evan meant by “groupies.” As the wiry man told him just what he’d gotten up to as a brand new vampire all those months ago, the artist couldn’t squelch the niggling itch in his head to go out and do the same. Hadn’t he been fun, once? Justin could remember back to the time when, not so long ago, he’d been out on the town having fun nearly every night. It was in stark contrast to his life now, the young man thought with a frown.  Interrupting his friend’s continuing story, Justin suddenly asked, “Hey, have you ever been to Babylon?”


---


That afternoon, Justin was walking along the upstairs hallway when he found himself halted by Aiden’s voice.


“Justin, can I speak with you for a moment?”


The blonde paused, peering towards the house office where the call had come from. He’d been headed to his room with the intention of taking another whack at mastering waking state, but at the summons he instead found himself taking a cautious step into the comfortable room. It was where he and every other resident of the home had their therapy sessions. Aiden was sitting at the room’s little writing desk, his back to the younger man. Given his position, Justin wondered how Aiden had even noticed that he’d been passing. “What did you want to talk about?” the artist ventured, though he had an uneasy feeling that he might already know.


“You and Evan have become pretty close,” Aiden pointed out calmly.


“We’re friends,” Justin admitted. “Something wrong with that?”


“No. It’s good for you to make friends here. But I want to give you a bit of advice with regards to which ones you make.” In the desk’s chair, Aiden swiveled round, finally fixing his gaze upon his newest patient. “Some friends further you, and some hold you back.” The dark-haired man shrugged meaningfully, “I won’t tell you who to spend time with, but I would urge you to consider what Evan gets from your company, and then ask yourself what you get from his.” Standing, he added, “You’re doing so well here, Justin. I’d hate to see you go down the wrong path.”


Watching the other man walk closer to him, Justin wasn’t sure whether or not he visibly frowned. “The ‘wrong path’?” Canting his head, he asked blithely, “Is that what you call anybody’s opinion that diverges from yours?”


For his part, Aiden looked offended. “You know I’m not that petty.”


They’d spent a great deal of time together, and indeed: Aiden hadn’t shown himself to be shallow or mean on any front. The man was intelligent, and always kind in his dealings with the younger man. He was the one who’d guided Justin through those nearly-unnavigable first hours and days of the change. He was the first vampire Justin had ever known; the one who had made him. His biological and social font, for lack of a better term. So it was with a slightly abashed nod that Justin conceded the point. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’re just looking out for me. But I don’t think Evan’s way of looking at things is so bad.”


“I know you don’t,” Aiden agreed. “I must seem very boring to you, but try and remember how old I am, and how young he is. I have reasons for being so politically correct. Sometimes it really is just better to fit in. If he tries to talk you into anything… I wouldn’t. Drinking from the vein can be addictive, for one. Most decent vampires stay away from it.”


The advice, though thoughtfully-given, had the rebellious side of Justin’s brain shirking away. Decent. A lot of people—mainly his father—had tried to tell him how to be ‘decent’ when he was younger, and the blonde didn’t like being told what to do on that front. “Sure,” he said complacently, while thinking that if anything was true, it was that the man before him was most definitely a P.C. vampire. “I understand,” Justin promised, but inside he knew that despite how helpful and kind the handsome vampire had been to him, he didn’t want to end up being just like him. All Evan wanted to do was have a little fun, and after more than three weeks of being cooped up in the residential facility, Justin was finding that he too, wanted to shake things up. Maybe Aiden wouldn’t like that, but… maybe Justin didn’t care.


“Have you made any progress since we spoke last?” Aiden ventured, “With your emotional memories, that is?”


Faced with a slightly more comfortable train of conversation, Justin shrugged, “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’ve had a few feelings like… warm fondness or something, for a few people”—Justin ignored Aiden’s knowing glance at a few people, continuing, “but then I can’t even decide whether I was simply imagining it all to begin with.” Shaking his head in dismay, Justin conceded, “I really don’t know.”


“Here.” Aiden had come to stand very close to the young blonde. In his proffered hand, were several new letters, “Maybe these will help. They came for you.”


Glancing down at the papers, Justin reached to take them from the other man. “They keep writing,” he complained quietly. “I almost wish they’d stop.”


“DON’T wish that.” Blue eyes shot back up as the older man brought a finger to run down the side of his face. Aiden watched as Justin shuddered, and said, “Be glad you still have people to write you. And don’t stop working on regaining your memory. The people writing these letters knew you before your accident. That’s very important because it could end up being the trigger you need. You never know. Communication with them could help you. Besides:  if you let your human family fall away, you’ll end up regretting it.”


Justin nodded silently, as the other man’s hand fell to rest on his shoulder. If he’d been human, the touches would have seemed inappropriate to the young blonde. They would’ve crossed some line, one which any decent therapist should not cross. But he wasn’t human anymore, and Justin understood that—while it could still be extremely personal and sexual—touch was something that vampires extended to one another much as any human would a simple nod. It was affirmation, comfort. Not psychic really, but sometimes it felt close to it.


Every culture has a collective consciousness, Aiden had told him once, ours is just stronger.  Justin thought that, while that collective consciousness may have felt nice, it wasn’t all good. What with all their touching like they did, humans had kind of formed the perception that, in addition to being violent, unpredictable, and shallow; vampires were promiscuous too. Justin supposed that that was another perception that his mentor would wish him to toe the line in regards to.


“Do you mind if I go?” Justin asked. “I was headed to my room.”


“Of course.” Aiden stepped back to watch as the artist moved for the hall. “But I’ll ask you to think about one thing while you’re gone, Justin.”


“What’s that?”


“He still lives here. Six months, and he hasn’t made any move to go back to the real world.”


It was obvious that he was talking about Evan, and Justin asked, “Why not?”


“I can’t violate counselor-patient confidentiality.” And even though he couldn’t say anything, his eyes communicated plenty. They said: think about it.


“I’ll keep that in mind,” Justin muttered. He wandered out of the office and away from the observant gaze of his mentor, now with a packet of letters clutched in his hand, and a whole lot more on his mind.


In the privacy of his small room, Justin had seated himself to face the desk. The stack of letters was afforded a moment’s consideration, before being hastily stowed in one of the desk drawers. Whoever they were from, he didn’t want to read them. His visit with Brian the week before had only proved to the young blonde how far away from meaningful reconciliation he was with the people who loved him.


Despite the older man’s shielded demeanor, Justin had very much been able to tell that he’d crushed Brian with his decision not to stay. Hell, Justin thought, he’d crushed himself. Who wouldn’t have wanted to stay there? Brian was the sexiest, most successful, confident, intelligent, promiscuous, and certainly most outrageous gay man in Pittsburgh. He was perfect. And unlike anyone else who may have desired Brian, Justin had all the memories to back up that attractive ideal of the other man as fact. Justin wanted Brian to be his boyfriend. He was just too disabled now to have him.


In just the same way, the young blonde wanted his mother back. And Debbie, and Lindsay and Melanie. They were, as Aiden had said, his family. But Justin knew he’d crush them all equally if not worse than he had Brian, if he tried to explain it to them now. Maybe if he was stronger, Justin thought. It wasn’t as if people didn’t choose to exist dysfunctionally in relationships all the time. Maybe if he wasn’t so selfish and could just lie to everyone, ignore his own discomfort for their happiness…


Shaking off what was clearly the beginning thread to a tapestry of mournful thoughts, Justin instead reached to tear a sheet of blank paper from a recently-purchased notepad. Not exactly quality drawing paper, but good enough for a fast doodle. Thoughts racing over the happenings of the past few hours, the artist let his hand skim over the page. And the first scratch of pen on paper was like a good swift inhale of cocaine—or at least, what he imagined cocaine to be like.


A rush of pleasure and clarity came on strong, making Justin realize how long it had been since he’d done anything related to art, and how much he missed it. Drawing, even stupid messy sketches on cheap drugstore notepads, was the ultimate stress relief for the young man. Mysteriously, the pen began outlining a face. That was the only clue Justin had that he was going to be drawing a person.


What was he going to do about Evan and Aiden? The confused young man wondered as he sketched. Justin had come to know that there were two types of vampires and two types of vampire cultures. On the one hand, you had men like Aiden; people who based their actions around what other people—namely humans—might think about them. They drank blood from bottles, held respectable positions within the community, wore all their clothes in matching colors… etc., etc.


Then there were other vampires, vampires like Evan. People who drank from the vein, who went out on the town at night, despite how it might seem to some humans. People who did what they felt like doing, and said “fuck ‘em all” to anybody who had a problem with it.


Sitting there at his little desk, Justin grinned. ‘Fuck em all’ indeed. He began to draw  in the features to the face—Emmett’s face. With the unabashedly fabulous man’s trademark saying in mind, Justin considered how it was basically the same paradigm with gay men. You were either simply homosexual—gay; or you were a fag—queer, fabulous. It was the difference between being a Ted or being an Emmett. The only question was: which did Justin want to be? A Ted or an Emmett?


He wanted badly to please Aiden, to have his approval. To not have his approval might mean to lose his help and support, both of which the artist didn’t know what he’d do without. Going into Aiden’s office every morning was a huge part of what gave the younger vampire the courage to face another day in this new existence of his. Justin NEEDED that connection, that counsel with him. It was, as he’d previously described, his lifeline.


But conversely, he simply liked Evan better than Aiden. He had more fun with him, anticipated his presence more. Evan was his friend, his only friend. And despite Aiden’s disapproval of the young agitator, Justin wanted to be around him. Because without Evan, his life was boring, and right now Justin had too many insecurities in his life to be boring as well. If he had to be going through this: the coma, being turned into a vampire, suffering through blood drinking and sensory overloads and memory loss; then he could God-damned well at least make sure he wasn’t bored.


His formerly-gimp right hand had sketched the outline of his old acquaintance’s eyes, nose and lips, the visage of the kind and amusing man staring out at him from the page. Something vaguely resembling a fond emotion filled the blonde’s heart. And as vague as it was, that one faint feeling decided it for him. Right then and there, Justin knew that he would leave the Teds to people like Aiden. And fuck ‘em all, because he was going to be an Emmett.


The drawing of said man was finished, it just needed a signature. Knowing that even a measly sketch deserved that much, Justin reached into the topmost drawer on the desk. But before his hand could find a pencil, it met something else. Two items were withdrawn from the desk, and Justin laid them out to regard with curious eyes. One was a bracelet made from shells strung together, and the other was an old set of house keys.


Both items had been in the duffle bag that someone had left for him at the hospital. Slipping the nautical adornment over the bones of his hand, Justin wondered how Deb or his mom had gotten Brian to give up his prized cowry shell bracelet. It looked foreign on his body, clearly meant for another man’s wrist. And the keys sat there as well, looking as if they wanted to prompt him into action. Justin picked them up, thumbing over the worn teeth of the small key which he knew opened the studio. Slowly, an idea began to form in the young man’s head.


Stalking downstairs to find his new, slightly less than P.C. friend sitting on the living room’s couch, Justin blurted out, “Hey, you want to go check out my old apartment?”


Evan only grinned.


---


Standing in the one main room of his old living space, Justin found himself wondering how he’d stayed away for so long. “I love this place,” he informed the darker man behind him. “I can’t believe I forgot how much.”


For his part, Evan looked around like he thought the apartment was pretty interesting. “You remember that you loved it?” he asked pointedly.


“Well… no. I think I just like it equally as much now.” Justin frowned. Did he have some lasting sentiment for this place? There was no way to tell. Maybe. “Besides,” he offered, moving farther into the room, “I was at Brian’s loft last week. If locations were going to start triggering my memory, I’d bet money that his loft would work better than this dump.”


“It’s not a dump,” Evan placated, “It’s… artistic.”


The two vampires met each other’s gazes, and Justin snorted. “Um, thanks,” he laughed. “If I’d known I was going to be in a coma, I would’ve tidied up a bit more.” Eyes running over his artwork that littered the entire apartment, the blonde thought aloud, “I really need to start painting again. I was sketching up in my room at the home today, and it was like… a gulp of air. I need to be creating things again.”


Sauntering over to the living room couch, Evan prompted, “So do it. That was your job before, right?”


“Yeah,” Justin sighed. “I wonder how many of my commissions are still available.” There was no doubt that some or most of his clients had given up on him, whether they’d heard about the accident or not. The young man winced, hating to think of how badly this whole “dying” thing may have damaged his reputation as a dependable artist. For the first time, Justin thought of Councilman Van Dorn. For the first time he thought of Skylar. “I should call my accounts tomorrow and see if they still want my business,” he said decisively.


“Do you have a phone?”


“Um,” well no, he didn’t. “I’ll go buy a new phone, then I’ll call the accounts.”


Evan raised his eyebrows, kicking a leg up onto the couch, “Well given that your old one’s most likely at the bottom of a river right now, I hope your carrier saves contact info.”


Grimacing, Justin realized that he hoped so too. “Shit,” he said, shoving the other man’s leg out of the way so that he too could plop himself down onto the couch. He gave a dismayed laugh. “I’ve been away from the real world for so long, I hadn’t even realized how separated I was from it.”


“I know how that can be. Sometimes I wonder why the hell I haven’t gotten out of the home yet.”


Justin bit his lip, remembering how Aiden had cautioned him to think about Evan’s continued reliance on the home. “Why haven’t you then?” he prompted casually. “Why not move out?”


Evan gave nothing away in his response, only waving a hand noncommittally, “Oh you know: free rent and all that. I don’t have a job or anything.”


The inkling that’d been forming in Justin’s head back at the home was coalescing into a tangible idea. Evan was—as pointed out by their respective busybody counselor—a loner stuck in one place from which he refused to move. But he wanted to leave, and so did Justin. And, the blonde reasoned, another vampire would never question his weird eating or sleeping habits… “You know,” Justin ventured, “the rent on this place is pretty low. It would be virtually nothing with a roommate.”


The darker vampire’s eyes slid slowly over, “What?” he asked, grinning, “You’re going to move back here?”


Justin nodded “Why the hell not? It’s got all my art, my furniture. I miss having my own space. Really having my own space, not just some room that the state’s letting me live in. Don’t you?”


For a second, and for the first time Justin had ever observed, Evan looked a little scared. “I guess,” he hedged. “But why does it matter?”


Justin shrugged, “You could move with me. There’s room for another bed.”


Beside him on the couch, Evan guffawed, “There’s no other bedroom!”


“We can buy some adjustable walls,” Justin offered. He’d heard about them months ago, when he’d been considering a move to New York, sans Brian. The move hadn’t happened due to the Brian part, but he had learned how invaluable the cheap, install-it-yourself partitions were to the multitudes of poor roomies cohabitating in the Big Apple. “Over there,” he pointed thoughtfully. “We can block off a section to be my room.”


“Hey!” Evan argued, “How come you get the private room?” He glanced dubiously over to the current sleeping area—it was smooshed in right by the kitchenette.


“Sexiest vampire gets the bedroom,” Justin refuted imperiously. Sobering, he asked, “So what do you think? Want to move in?” Somehow, the thought of reemerging back into the human world didn’t seem as daunting, if he knew Evan would be doing it with him. Seeing the other man’s veiled hesitation, Justin coaxed, “Come on: it’ll be fun.”


“…Okay.”


“Great!”


“But I still need to find a job,” the other man worried. “I don’t know who the fuck is going to hire me though.”


Justin paused, considering. Hmm… that was a good question actually. Who in their right mind would hire a lanky, sarcastic, trouble-making vampire who didn’t really respect authority, twitched when he was nervous, and had a dark sense of humor? Slowly, the concentrated frown that had creased the blonde’s brow melted into a clever smile. “Hey,” he asked brightly, “have you ever waited tables before?”



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