Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

Brian's POV

I looked at the time again, certain I was going to be late. Justin's show was going to start in less than fifteen minutes.

Just then, a knock on the door grabbed my attention.

"Come in!"

Derek stepped into my office confidently, holding three storyboards.

"Let's see the Halloween costumes everyone will want to buy." I waved him closer.

He smiled, propping the boards on the back of the couch. I truly wanted to return his smile and actually shake his hand. But it wasn't the case. I hoped he'd keep up the great work he'd done on the car shop advertisement, which had been a success.

These pictures were anything but sexy. They seemed to portray scenes from a Hitchcock movie, right after the character had been murdered.

"What the fuck is this? You do know Jason would like to see these in two fucking days, right? I can't show him a horror movie!"

"Brian, you gave me the liberty to put a personal touch to it."

"Seriously? If you saw that bloodied man in ripped clothes, you'd run to the store and buy the costume?" I raised my eyebrow, skeptical. The sight made me ill. "And don't get me started on that poor child. Did you seriously dress him up to look like fucking Chucky? As for the woman, she looks like the chick from Psycho."

Derek tried making his point, but I wasn't listening.

"You're with me for what? Three years, Derek? You're not head of the Art Department for nothing." The smug look on his face showed me he thought I was praising him. "But you screwed up here. Royally. What is my motto? Make the thing attractive, sexy, and fuck, you ruined it. There were endless great possibilities with Halloween, but you screwed up, Derek." I took a calming breath, which didn't do much. "Now, get the fuck out of here!" I pointed to the door. "I want new storyboards by tomorrow morning. Ten am."

"What? How am I supposed to do that?"

"Not my problem. You're a big boy. Figure it out on your own." I snatched my jacked from the hanger. "I have to get to the gallery for Justin's show."

By the time I arrived, I had managed to calm down.

Even though I ended up being fashionably late, like every time I went somewhere, I was still greeted with Champagne.

I mingled, admiring the paintings displayed in the first area. Justin hadn't allowed me to drop by the gallery or see anything before the big day. All I'd seen were the canvas wrapped in brown paper when I helped him carry them down the stairs at home, then stored them into the truck taking them to the gallery a week ago.

All I knew was the show was entitled Love & Life.

I spotted Justin near the second section of the gallery, chatting with a balding man.

On my way to him, I took a detour to admire the displayed art. The brochure in my hand explained the first section represented Life in every form.

One showed the sunset, reminding me of one of our evenings in Ibiza. The second painting was of the old tree Justin had loved so much, again something from our honeymoon. And lastly, the third painting represented an autumn leaf with a slug on it. I had to hand it to him, the slug was impeccable.

Curious about what the next section, called Love, I made my way there.

In the archway between the first two rooms, I stopped next to the artiste himself. "Is the sunset inspired by Ibiza?" I whispered in his ear.

Justin startled, turning to beam at me. "Brian! You made it."

"I promised I'd be here. Sorry. Work held me for longer than I planned." I kissed his cheek.

"It's okay. Let me show you around. And yes, the sunset is inspired by Ibiza. The whole show inspired by the honeymoon. It's all about life and love."

I draped my arm around his shoulders. "Give me the tour of honor."

He smirked, steering me to the nearest painting. "Here we have another three paintings. They represent love in one form or another, just like the others represent life."

In the second section, the art showed a child and a puppy playing, a couple embracing and a mother cradling her swollen belly.

"Does Daphne know?" I nodded to the last painting.

"Of course, she does. She even offered to pose. I only had to accentuate the belly to make it more artistic."

"I see. What about the couple? Is that us?" I nuzzled his ear, biting the lobe.

The two figures were shown from a distance, but I could see us in their pose.

Justin pushed my face away, escaping my tongue in his ear. "It's us. It's them." He discreetly pointed to a young couple next to us admiring the painting. "I made sure not to show their faces and make it as diffuse as possible. It's all about the street lamp behind them, the snowflakes falling from the sky, their love."

"It's us," I insisted, not taking my eyes off the painting. "No one in their right mind would pick their future husband off from under a street lamp."

Justin turned red, shushing me, and dragging me away. "I want to sell something, so please keep your jokes to yourself."

"It's no joke. Did you forget? Here I thought I was the one who was high that night."

"What I mean is…"

I put a finger to his lips. "I know. You're a good boy." I pecked his lips, stroking a hand through his hair. "Now, show me the pièce de résistance."

"Aren't you hungry? The finger food is amazing. Fuck the carbs." Justin clasped my hand, taking me to the refreshments table. "Maybe you want a refill of your glass."

"Justin." I gave him a stern look, stopping him.

"Please, don't go into the last room." He swallowed hard, begging me with his eyes. "There's only one painting and it combines the theme for this show—both life and love. But, don't." His voice cracked, getting me more and more curious.

"Why am I not allowed to see it?"

"You'll be upset. I doubt anyone would understand what it means, but I know you would. I even heard some people talking about it saying how it shows raw pain and fighting for life and there is so much love. It's exactly what I wanted to express."

"I need a refill." I tapped my glass.

If I escaped him, I could slip into the last area without him noticing. I had to see what he'd done. A feeling in my gut told me it had to do with his prom, but I pushed it away. Even now that he had his treasured memory back, I knew Justin wouldn't willingly do something like that.

"You go mingle. Sell them all, Picasso." I cupped his cheek, kissing him softly.

"Promise you won't go."

I smiled in answer.

He knew I was curious and I would go to see what the fuss was about, and there was nothing he could do about it.

At the refreshments table, I found Mikey, chewing on a cracker. He raised a brow at me. "Did you just get here?"

I shook my head. "Earlier. Justin showed me around, but I let him play host. Did you see anything you like?"

"I'm not an art critic, but he's really talented."

He kept his eyes on me as if I was going to break. It made me nervous. "What?"

"What do you think of the last painting?" He touched my elbow, his eyes full of concern.

"I'm forbidden to see it," I explained.

Mikey sighed in relief. "Oh, thank God. Don't look at it. I can't believe Justin did that."

"Now I'm even more curious."

He tried to distract me by asking about the project I wanted to implement at Babylon, about naming every day of the week something, like Moaning Mondays.

When Debbie and Ben joined us, coming from the last room, both shaken, Debbie more than Ben, I knew I had to see that painting.

I expected the worst as I got closer to the last room. I spotted Justin in the corner of the second area, chatting with a fine-dressed woman. Our eyes met, and all I could see reflected in his baby blues was worry.

In the last area of the gallery, the lone painting was displayed on an easel sitting in the middle of the room, under a dim spotlight.

The few people who were in the room when I arrived, left, commenting on the emotions displayed.

My heart stopped when I saw the object painted. The canvas was black, and in the middle of it, as if fall from the sky, was the white, silk scarf, twisted and bloodied.

For seconds on end, I stared at the painting numbly.

How many days, weeks, months have I worn that scarf? Unable to part from it.

How many times did I hold it tightly when a nightmare woke me up?

No one had known what I was wearing under my clothes…until Justin stripped me of everything the night he allowed me back in.

A hand on my shoulder made me jump.

"You're so fucking stubborn, Brian," Justin whispered, wrapping both arms around my waist.

I cleared my throat, to make sure my voice wouldn't break when I talked. "How much?" It still cracked during the last word, but I didn't give a fuck.

All I wanted in that moment was the painting. No one was allowed to have that piece of us. It was private.

I couldn't bring myself to be mad at Justin for painting such a beautiful thing. I knew it was his way of saying goodbye to that horrible part of his life. He was going to focus on thinking of the dance, just like I should.

"You mean how stubborn are you?" He snuggled closer. "The answer is a whole lot."

"I mean how much for the painting."

Justin's eyes widened as he tilted his head to look at me. "You're not serious."

"I am. This is private, besides…I want it."

"You don't want it. You just don't want others to see it."

"Maybe so. Now… Will ten be enough?"

"Ten bucks?" He chuckled.

"Ten grand," I said seriously.

"No."

"More? Tell me a price."

He shook his head, looking away.

"Sunshine. I want it. This is us!"

"It's sold," he said in a small voice.

"What? Who bought it? Fuck. Why would you put it up for sale?"

"Patty, the curator, told me it sold for an obscene amount of money."

"How much? Who got it? I'm going to buy it out from them."

"Only Patty knows names. She's taking care of everything. She didn't even give me the exact amount."

"More than I offered?" I asked, shocked.

"Yeah. And I'll have you murdered if you out-buy this person."

I smirked, before pecking his lips. "Make sure to choose a nice coffin for me." I walked out of the room, ready to track Patty.

Justin was hot on my heels, hissing at me to drop it. If he thought I'd give up so fast, he didn't know me that well.

We reached Patty, who was busy with a potential client. Justin turned me to face him, insisting I should give it a rest and be glad we wouldn't have to see it for the rest of our lives. Even if I stored the painting somewhere I would never see it again, I still wanted it. No one had the right to see that part of us.

"Is everything okay?" Patty joined us, looking concerned.

"Yes," Justin answered.

"No," I said louder, fixating her with my eyes. "Who bought the scarf painting? Tell them it's not for sale. It was a misunderstanding. They can have any other painting at half the price."

"It's sold!" Justin cried out, exasperated.

I ignored him. "Who bought it? Point them out to me. I'll go explain the situation," I told Patty.

Her eyes moved between Justin and me, worried and somewhat embarrassed.

"There's no situation, Brian. It's sold. It's over. Done." Justin groaned.

Patty looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She finally caught my eye.

"I doubt you want that, Mr. Kinney. The man offered a small fortune for the painting in question."

When I kept eye-contact, she caved. Peeking at Justin, who was fuming, she told us how much he'd offered. "One million. It's absurd."

"What?" Justin squeaked.

I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. "But that's insane. Not even famous painters don't get sold at such high prices. Sorry, Sunshine, but really…" I kissed his temple.

He knew how much I loved and supported his art, but there was something fishy about such a high priced acquisition.

"Could you tell us who?" He almost begged Patty.

"That gentleman." She waved her hand in the direction of a group of fine dressed men. "The one in the gray suit."

I was about to ask which one, because there we two in gray suits, when I saw Justin paling.

"Fuck," he spat, balling his fists to his side. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

"Is there something wrong? Something I don't know about your New York adventures?" I chose my words carefully, unsure how to approach the subject.

"Eugene Benoît. He's a famous French art critic and collector of undiscovered young talents. He approached me a handful of times in New York. I always rejected him."

"We can go over there and explain that Patty didn't know the scarf painting wasn't for sale—a miscommunication."

"Brian, he already bought it."

"Are you forgetting I bullshit people for a living? Let me handle this."

"Okay. I'll be around… I need a drink."

I found the right moment when this Eugene guy ripped himself from the group to go admire the slug painting.

"Very powerful, isn't it?" I stopped right behind him.

He nodded, not turning to me. "I like the details. The diversity every painting expresses. This is truly life in the rawest form."

"Yes, Justin is really talented," I agreed, fighting off a smile.

Eugene turned to me. "You know him?"

"You can say that." I pressed my lips together, not looking away from the art in front of us. "Justin is my husband."

Eugene threw me a skeptical look, but realized soon I wasn't joking, when I made sure to lift my glass to my lips with my left hand. His eyes fastened on the ring.

"Well, I had no idea he was seeing anyone, let alone getting hitched."

I shrugged, deciding to spare him the details of our complicated relationship. "Yes, we've been together for years; which brings me to the reason I wanted to speak to you, Mr. Benoît. First, my name is Brian Kinney."

He shook my hand. "I apologize, Mr. Kinney. I will stop asking Justin to visit France over summer. Now I understand his refusals had to do with your relationship."

His words threw me. Luckily, I managed to school my features before he saw right through me.

Justin never told me about New York, and I never asked. All I knew was that he'd made a name for himself.

"That's not what I wanted to tell you, though I'd appreciate if you stopped hitting on my husband." I gave him my most fake smile. He tried looking appalled, but I rolled my eyes. "You see, Eugene, there's been an itsy bitsy misunderstanding. The painting you want is not for sale. Patty must have forgotten Justin's instructions. The scarf painting is not for sale," I repeated.

"I already gave her a check."

"Don't worry. I assure you she didn't run to the bank to cash it out." I patted his shoulder. "I'll make you a deal. You can have any painting at half their price."

I looked around, grinning. I knew I won him when he closed his eyes, sighing.

"It holds sentimental value to you, doesn't it? That's why you want to keep it. I haven't seen such raw emotions coming off a canvas in a long time. Only Justin could make it so credible," he said quietly, never taking his eyes off mine.

"As I said, you can't have it." I couldn't believe how easily he read me. People I knew for years couldn't do it so fast.

"I understand. Okay. Then I'll have this one." He nodded to the slug one. "I hope you don't mind, though, if I pay the same amount for it."

"That's crazy," I blurted out. "It's too much."

"I believe in Justin. From the first second I've seen his work in New York." He smiled, touching my arm. "He deserves to have his paintings in a museum. I trust you to help him see his dream come true."

I stared after Eugene as he went to Patty, most likely to change his purchasing.

"So, what happened? Another Brian Kinney success?" Justin approached me, handing me a fresh drink.

"You're amazing," I whispered, before kissing him deeply.

"I am?"

"Yes. I'll make it a personal goal to help you become a fucking success."

"You didn't cave for his bullshit, did you?" He watched me worried.

"No trips to France any time soon."

Justin looked away, turning red. "I should have told you about this, but it never came up. It was never an option."

"Good. Because I want to see Paris together some day." I squeezed him close. "I can't wait to take you home and show you how much…"

"…you love me." He winked. "See? It's fun finishing each other's sentences."

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