Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction
Author's Chapter Notes:

* Again, a huge thanks to my beta for editing this chapter with me (it was a tough one to write, and Karynn is truly the most patient beta ever for bearing with my constant changes). Also, my deepest gratitude to the readers for their encouragement *

 

 

Liam’s chalet, Tuesday, July 21st, 7:30 p.m.

 

“Careful,” Justin chides, as Liam stubbornly finishes cutting the vegetables for their dinner. “I can do it.”

 

“And I can do it too. In case you forgot, you’re my guest.” Liam counters, finally adding the last carrot to the wok, where the chicken breasts and the onions are already stewing in a tarragon-basil sauce. “There, it’s cooking. Now, we wait. Want a drink?”

 

“Sure,” Justin nods. “Whatever you’re having.”

 

“Whisky? Or I can crack open a bottle of wine.” Liam proposes, grabbing a bottle of red Bordeaux he purchased earlier that day.

 

“Save it for the chicken.” Justin suggests. “I could go for a glass of water for now.”

 

“Water it is,” Liam intones, opening a cabinet and retrieving two glasses. He pours water into one and hands it to the blond, before heading to the living room and taking a bottle of bourbon from the shelf. Pouring the drink into one tumbler, he raises it, and toasts, “Cheers.”

 

“Cheers,” Justin responds, before taking a sip, while Liam gulps his Beam in one go, immediately pouring another.

 

“You okay?” Justin inquires. Liam has seemed off ever since he arrived. He isn’t sure what happened, since the photographer was fine when he left him the previous day.

 

“I’m fine,” Liam dismisses his concern, walking to the door. Turning around, he gazes at Justin, “Come outside. We can watch the sunset together,” he offers a bit sardonically, not waiting for Justin’s answer before exiting the chalet.

 

Justin frowns but goes after Liam. As he looks around, he sees the photographer sitting on a bench on the porch, swinging back and forth while staring into the distance. Following his gaze, he marvels at the beauty of this place. The chalet may be rustic, but the nature surrounding it speaks to his artistic soul. It’s both stimulating and appeasing.

 

Justin sits next to Liam, not saying anything. He stares away too, the light of the day slowly fading, the colors of the sky changing as the sun descends toward the horizon. After a couple of minutes, though, he peers up at his companion, noticing he is looking right at him. “What?” he asks almost bashfully. Even though Liam’s eyes are mostly hidden by his glasses, Justin shivers under the man’s intense stare.

 

Liam shakes his head, dismissing the question, before glancing away again.

 

“Liam,” Justin breathes out, now more than ever convinced that something is wrong. It’s true he doesn’t know the man, but somehow, he can’t stand not knowing what’s going on in the photographer’s mind. He can tell he is upset, can feel it in his bones, which is strange since Liam is right - Justin knows next to nothing about him. He doesn’t know where he comes from, if he has a family, or why he lives in Lakevallée. Before Connor’s visit to his hotel room that morning, he couldn't tell if the man was straight or gay, even though he is somehow sure Liam is attracted to him. Truthfully, Justin doesn’t understand his own attraction to the man, but he can’t help the way he feels whenever he is with him. And yes, Liam reminds him of Brian, so fucking much. It’s painful, but it’s also liberating, even though it doesn’t make sense.

 

Liam peers down, his gaze empty. He takes another sip of his Beam and looks up at Justin. The blond can feel the man struggling with an inner sadness. Needing to do something to push Liam into accepting that he genuinely cares, Justin covers the man’s hand and squeezes briefly, giving him a small nod of support.

 

Liam doesn’t move except to glance down at their joined hands, but when Justin withdraws his own, the photographer finally discloses in a whisper, “I lost someone today.”

 

“Who?” Justin questions softly, feeling a pang in his chest.

 

“Does it matter?” Liam asks, his lips curling upward. The smile fades, though, his gaze lost in the depths of his glass.

 

“Liam, I-”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Liam cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Just let it go.”

 

Justin is puzzled by the man’s confession, but he senses that pushing him to confide more is not what Liam needs right now. He therefore decides to move the conversation in a different direction and declares, “I drew today. I hadn’t drawn in years.”

 

“You did?” Liam acknowledges. “Why hadn’t you…” he asks, but the look on Justin’s face tells him all he needs to know.

 

“I haven’t felt like it. Not since, well… you know,” Justin enunciates, knowing Liam understands what - or more precisely who - he is talking about. “When Brian died, my inspiration died along with him. I couldn’t draw for shit. I dropped out of school, and… I did things I’m not proud of today.”

 

“What kind of things?” Liam inquires quietly.

 

Justin shrugs as he confesses, “I fell apart, mostly. I started hanging out with the wrong guys, doing drugs. I just wanted to forget for a little while...” he explains, peering at Liam’s face, although his expression is indecipherable. But he feels like he can share that part of his life with him, that the man will listen, so he continues, “And I became one of those pathetic addicts who only craves his next fix, and who would do anything to get it.”

 

“That’s fucked up,” Liam comments, still not glancing at him.

 

“Yeah…” Justin agrees. “Grief is such a fucked-up thing.”

 

Liam snorts at Justin’s statement, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his thighs. He seems to debate about something, but in the end, he eventually mutters, “It was my mom,” as he stares at the ground.

 

As he realizes what Liam is talking about, Justin echoes, astounded by the man’s revelation, “Your mom died?”

 

“Yeah,” Liam whispers, sitting still for a moment. Justin doesn’t know how to react, although his heart is thumping in his chest. He can’t imagine losing his mother. A mom is such an important part of a man’s life, the person who gives you life, feeds you, makes sure you grow up ready to face the world. So, what do you say in moments like this? No words of comfort are enough, as much as Justin wants them to be. But he doesn’t have the time to think about what he wants to say, anyway, because Liam suddenly stands up. “I need to check the wok. And this conversation is way too joyful to have it sober. You want another glass of water?” he asks, raising his empty glass.

 

“Sure,” Justin nods, leaning back on the bench as soon as Liam disappears inside. Thinking about Liam’s revelation some more, he feels sad for the man, he really does, but he’s also bewildered, especially since Connor told him nobody knew anything about Liam’s family. The more Justin gets to know the brunet, the more he feels like the man is a mystery, as if he is hiding. From what, however, he can’t tell. Liam is always so guarded, careful not to reveal too much about himself, even though he invited the blond to his home. It’s obvious he doesn’t really want to talk about his mom. But he just lost her, how can he not want to?

 

Justin doesn’t have time to mull it over any longer, as his phone vibrates in the pocket of his jeans, indicating an incoming call. Hastily retrieving his cell, he smiles when he discovers the identity of the caller, answering cheerfully, “Hey, Michael.”

 

He is too focused on the phone call to notice Liam standing in the doorway, frozen in place.

 

***

 

Liam steps back. He leans against the door, closing his eyes as he listens to Justin talk to his former best friend.

 

He is going to freak out. It’s inevitable, knowing his mother is dead, that his former lover has gone through hell because of him, and that if he doesn't get a better grip on himself, it's only a matter of time before the truth comes out. And then, what will he do? Better yet, what is he doing? The more time he spends with Justin, the more difficult it will be to let him go, but he has to, because he can’t let the blond get too close. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to Justin, merely because he was stupid enough to think that he could handle the lie.

 

Letting his head fall back, Liam takes a deep breath, trying to calm down when all he wants to do is to punch something. He walks back to the counter to set the glasses down and turns off the wok. Then, he tries to think of a plan to get Justin out of here, but his mind is blank. He can’t just tell him to fuck off, not without making Justin more suspicious. The photographer is sure the blond is already questioning his behavior, probably asking himself what is wrong with him. Here is a man who confided in him about his dead lover, confessing his undying love for the guy, not understanding why he feels so connected to a man he barely knows, and what is Liam doing? Giving him seeds of hope when there is none. Fuck, he is such an asshole.

 

“Liam?” Justin’s voice startles him. He’s been too busy queening out to notice the blond finished his conversation and is now standing in the doorway, staring at him quizzically.

 

“What?” Liam rasps hoarsely.

 

“You… need some help?” Justin offers, although Liam has a feeling this isn’t what he wanted to ask.

 

Liam takes a deep breath. “I think you should go,” he finally declares because he doesn’t know what else to say.

 

The brunet expects Justin to argue with him about this announcement. Justin surprises him, however, when he steps closer and simply raises a hand to touch his face. Liam is so stunned that he doesn’t react, other than to close his eyes at the light touch.

 

“Liam,” Justin repeats his name, this time almost reverently. Liam feels fingers traveling across his skin, feathering through his beard, and he struggles to breathe, trying to calm his pounding heart. Only when Justin gets closer and tries to take him in his arms, does he snap out of his trance and suddenly step back.

 

“No,” he shakes his head, distancing himself further from the blond. “You need to go,” he reiterates, before walking toward the living room.

 

“Why?” he hears Justin ask. “At least tell me why.”

 

Liam turns around to look at Justin, who is still standing near the kitchen counter, and for a split second, he wants to tell him the truth.

 

But he can’t, so he simply goes for, “I can’t.”

 

Justin’s face hardens at his words. “That’s bullshit,” he asserts, stalking over to Liam. “You’re afraid.”

 

“I am not,” Liam denies, trying to evade Justin, but the younger man doesn’t let him.

 

“You’re fucking terrified,” Justin is shouting now, as he follows him back into the kitchen. “Look at me!”

 

Liam snorts sarcastically, stopping and turning around. “You don’t know anything about me!” he exclaims into Justin’s face, not recognizing his own voice.

 

“I want to!” Justin persists. “You’re the one who won’t even try!”

 

“Oh, fuck you!” Liam growls. “I don’t need you. In fact, I don’t want you here. So get out!” he grabs Justin’s arm and pushes him toward the door, not allowing the blond to respond before shoving him outside and slamming the door in his face.

 

“Fuck you!” Justin shouts kicking the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells, hitting the surface with the palm of his hand.

 

Liam stands still then steps back, glaring at the door, before storming down the hall.

 

He enters his bedroom and paces, rubbing his face, stunned to have shut Justin out. He can feel unwanted energy filling every cell of his body, and he wants to lash out so violently that he thinks he is going crazy. Justin is right. He is terrified of what is going to happen, or more accurately, what might happen. It’s more than how he feels about his former lover, which is complicated enough, but his presence makes Liam realize he could end up waiting for years, maybe for the rest of his life, to be free. Being with Justin reminds him of all he’s lost, all the people he left behind. Sure, he always acted like he didn’t care in the past, like he could move on without looking back, and maybe it was true back then, that he could have escaped to a new life and been satisfied with his decision. But today? He dreams of being Brian Kinney again, stuck in Pittsburgh with his annoying best friends and their families, with his son, who will be nine years old in a month and probably doesn’t remember what his father looks like anymore.

 

And Justin… spending time with him without being able to reveal who he really is, knowing the lie could destroy them both, is messing with his mind.

 

He finally sits on his bed and forces himself to breathe slowly, in and out, several times. He continues until the need to smash something slowly fades. Focusing on positive thoughts as much as he can, he tries to grasp how he feels when he shoots a photograph, when he is out there alone observing and listening to nature. He never thought he would come to appreciate this skill so much, but he now believes this is what has saved him. His false identity is not a coincidence. Being a photographer has always been a secret fantasy of his, because although he may be a poor artist with a pencil or a paintbrush, he is nonetheless creative, always has been. Advertising made him feel high. Taking a picture gives him a sense of peace, even though it’s an illusion.

 

A few minutes elapse before Liam peers over at the clock on his nightstand, which indicates it’s 8:40 p.m. He feels calmer, but not calm enough, and he hesitates briefly before heading for the bathroom and turning on the shower, hoping this will help him relax a bit more.

 

He doesn’t know how long he stays under the spray. By the time he steps out of the stall, the skin on his hands is wrinkled and he feels more tired, almost drained. He dries himself off and dons a pair of sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and a green sweater before putting back on his eyeglasses and his cap - two of the three accessories he always wears, except when sleeping or bathing. Heading to the living room, he walks past the small window in the hall, and halts. Stepping back, he sees it, Justin’s rental, still parked in front of the chalet.

 

He saunters over to the front door and slams it open, muttering, “What the…” His words die out as he discovers the blond is still there, sitting on the bench, both his knees bent in front of him, his arms around his legs.

 

Liam is so surprised Justin didn’t leave after his outburst that he doesn’t even start another argument, asking drily instead, “What are you still doing here?”

 

“I was waiting for you. My jacket is inside,” Justin responds as if the photographer didn’t behave like a madman earlier by throwing him out so unexpectedly. Liam doesn’t buy that Justin would have stayed for such a trivial reason, though, and gives him a pointed look, prompting the blond to admit, “I didn’t want to leave like that. I’m supposed to fly back tomorrow.”

 

“Oh…” Liam is at a loss. He didn’t know this was supposed to be their last time together, but he’s had a hard time thinking at all ever since Justin appeared at his studio two days ago.

 

“Oh?” Justin repeats sardonically. “That’s the best you can do?”

 

“What do you want me to say?” Liam retorts defensively, his hand resting on the door frame. He winces, feeling like a dickhead for subjecting Justin to his shitty mood and his inability to deal with his mother’s death, along with everything else.

 

But he can’t restrain himself, although something must show on his face, since Justin ignores his outburst, patting the bench next to himself and demanding, “Come here.” He gazes up at Liam, daring the man not to comply.

 

Liam hesitates, but in the end, he moves toward Justin, quietly sitting next to him.

 

They don’t talk, just watch the horizon until the last ray of sun disappears, prompting Liam to turn on the light in the living room as well as the one for the porch. Once he’s back on the veranda, he observes Justin, trying to figure out what is going on in his head, but the blond just sits there, his face not revealing anything. And at that moment, Liam experiences this strange feeling, realizing he may have changed since his supposed death, but that Justin is not the man he used to be either. There is a strength emanating from him, something indefinable that renders Liam’s attempts to stay away futile, because in the end, all the brunet wants is for Justin not to leave.

 

A deep sigh escapes his lips and he breathes out, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier.”

 

Justin nods. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have. But your mom died, so…” his voice trails off, as the brunet understands the loss of his mother is only half the reason why Justin hasn’t concluded he’s merely a raging asshole.

 

Truthfully, Liam is dying to know what Justin is thinking about, but he can’t risk asking, so he clears his throat and questions instead, “When do you leave tomorrow?”

 

“I’m not sure. Around noon probably,” Justin replies, drawing his legs closer to his chest. “Or maybe I’ll stay and squat on your couch.”

 

His response brings a small smile to Liam’s face, as he snorts, inquiring, “What about your lovely room at the Decunn Hotel?”

 

“I could ask Connor if a room is available. I’m sure he would be happy to find one for me.” Justin volunteers.

 

“You’ve seen Connor?” Liam inquires, his eyebrows rising. He wasn’t aware the blond had seen him since they all met at his studio.

 

“Oh, yeah.” Justin confirms. “He’s quite a character. He actually wanted to know if we had already fucked.”

 

“What?” Liam exclaims. “Why the fuck did he ask you that?”

 

“No idea,” Justin shrugs. “I thought he was in love with you.”

 

“Connor isn’t in love with me. He’s in love with his childhood friend.” At Justin’s interrogative stare, Liam elucidates, “Gabriel…”

 

Justin frowns. “Gabriel? Really?”

 

“Yeah. Not that it’s any of your business. Or mine,” Liam counters curtly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

Justin hums in agreement, gazing away and rubbing his hands along his bare arms.

 

Peering at the blond, Liam notices the man’s shivering. “You cold?”

 

“Yeah,” Justin answers. “I should go get my jacket.”

 

“Don’t bother,” Liam pulls off his sweater and sets it across Justin’s shoulders without thinking, moving closer to the blond and placing one arm around him.

 

“You’re going to get cold,” Justin protests, leaning into Liam’s touch.

 

“I’ll grab another sweater if I do,” Liam replies, letting Justin’s head rest on his shoulder, while he keeps an arm around the blond. He shouldn’t do this. Initiating physical contact is the dumbest idea he’s had, but he can’t resist, and soon, he is moving his hand up and down Justin’s arm gently. It’s so unreal, being here with the blond, feeling his former lover lean against him. But he’s craved the touch of the young man’s skin ever since he saw him on the monitor two days ago. He really is a lost cause when Justin is concerned. Always has been.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Justin asks after a couple minutes of comfortable silence.

 

Liam is tempted to say no, since answering questions is exactly what he needs to avoid, but he caves, “Okay,”

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Justin whispers.

 

Liam’s hand stills on Justin’s arm. The blond must feel the tension in his body, because he leans back to look at him.

 

Liam forces himself to act as casual as possible, answering Justin’s query with a simple, “No.”

 

He knows he should lie. He lies every day of his life but this - whatever they have right now - is real, making him feel more alive than he has in a long time. The lie about his death - about who he is - is already enough.

 

Justin smiles at his response, and Liam instinctively knows the blond wants to kiss him. He can read it in his eyes, in the way his lips slowly part, as a slight tension invades his body. And God help him, but Liam wants to feel those lips he’s come to love and to abandon himself to his deepest desires.

 

But as much as he wants it to happen, and even though he just confessed something he shouldn’t have, he can’t give in. There is no doubt in his mind that Justin will recognize him if they touch, even more so if they have sex. Liam may have succeeded in disguising his appearance and in becoming a stranger to the people around him, but his feelings are the same. If he touches Justin, the blond will know, because Brian Kinney was already in love back then.

 

That hasn’t changed.

 

So, before Justin’s lips can cover his, Liam leans back, evading the blond’s touch, and stands up, claiming, “We should go inside. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

 

Justin seems taken aback by Liam’s sudden change of heart, proclaiming he wants the blond to stay one second before pushing him away the next. But whatever the blond sees in his face prompts him to remain quiet, for which the photographer is fucking grateful. They make their way into the chalet, Justin sitting in the living room, while Liam goes to reheat their forgotten meal.

 

***

 

Justin only succeeds in eating half of his plate of chicken. They talk about mundane things, Obama becoming president, Michael Jackson’s death a few weeks ago, and Gabriel. Liam reveals the gallery owner is his only friend, apart from Connor, although he doesn’t dwell much on his relationship with the painter. Justin is tempted to ask, but he figures if Liam wants to talk about Connor, he will.

 

For the umpteeth time that night, however, Justin questions what he is doing. When Liam shut the door in his face earlier, he almost left, marching to his car hurriedly and sliding in, ready to turn on the vehicle. Instead, he hit the wheel, before leaning his forehead against it, trying to calm down. He knew that something had prompted Liam to lash out on him, but as much as he tried, his mind came empty in finding a reason.

 

He stayed in the car for a while, closing his eyes to focus, trying to understand how he’d ended up in this mess. How on earth could he be so sure of his feelings for a guy he’d just met a couple of days ago? The man didn’t want to let him in, for whatever reason, and yet Justin wanted to keep trying, again and again, until Liam caved and allowed him to get close. What other choice did he have anyway? Leave and never look back?

 

He laughed then. Of course he couldn’t do that. He hadn’t felt this way with another man in so long, he wasn’t going to admit defeat so easily. Liam might want him out of his life, but Justin would be damned if he wouldn’t fight him until he was absolutely certain that was what the photographer wanted.

 

So, he exited his car and walked back to the porch, waiting for the man to realize he was still there.

 

Which led him here with a knotted stomach, facing Liam after the man admitted he didn’t want him to leave even though he shut him out. If Justin weren’t convinced Brian was dead, he’d almost believe Liam learned to handle his feelings from the master himself.

 

“Another drink?” Liam proposes as he approaches Justin with the bottle of Bordeaux.

 

Justin eyes the wine, knowing he should stop now since he’s already had too much to drink, when he usually doesn’t indulge at all, but he is so confused that he accepts it anyway. “Yeah, thanks,” he responds as he nudges his glass toward Liam for a refill. He takes two huge gulps, nearly finishing off the glass, and waits for the alcohol to ease his tension.

 

“I almost forgot,” Liam suddenly declares, standing up from his chair and looking around for his satchel. He opens it, carefully retrieving what appears to be a present.

 

Justin’s brow furrows as Liam walks back to the table and places the gift in front of him, prompting him to ask, “What’s this?”

 

“Open it,” Liam replies.

 

Justin stares at the man quizzically, before picking up the present and carefully unwrapping it. His eyes widen as he discovers the photograph he shot of the eagle the previous morning, in a simple, yet elegant, black frame, enhanced by the ivory paper surrounding the picture. “It’s…” Justin is speechless.

 

“Actually pretty good, isn’t it?” Liam murmurs softly as he comes up behind Justin and gazes at the photograph. “You must have a natural talent to capture a shot like that on your first outing. Although, if you’re an artist, I’m not surprised.”

 

Justin’s lips turn upward at the brunet’s praise. He stands up, still clutching Liam’s gift in his hands, and turns around to look at the photographer, who is smiling softly. “I love it.”

 

Liam nods, “You’re welcome,” fidgeting as Justin steps closer.

 

“Thank you,” Justin breathes out. He wants to kiss the man so badly, but guessing Liam will pull away if he does, he stands on tiptoe to place a chaste kiss on Liam’s cheek.

 

He feels the man shiver at the touch. They stay there, frozen in place, their lips so close that Justin can feel the man’s breath grazing his neck, and for a fleeting moment, he thinks Liam will actually kiss him.

 

Instead, the photographer edges away. He shakes his head and strides down the hallway toward the back of the chalet.

 

Justin can’t move as, one more time, he watches Liam pulling away from him. For a moment, he thinks the man won’t come back, but he does return a few seconds later, carrying sheets, a blanket, and a pillow. “Here,” he offers, “You can sack out on the couch for the night.”

 

Justin attempts to read Liam’s face. “Liam…” he tries one last time to force the man into talking to him, but Liam moves back.

 

“You’ve had too much to drink to drive back to the hotel safely,” is all he says, and the blond can hear the brunet’s silent plea not to push him to talk.

 

Justin can also feel the man’s turmoil as he waits for his reply. He doesn’t know why Liam is fighting their mutual attraction so hard, but as he stands there, he realizes that whatever his reason, not giving in to their desire is as difficult for Liam as it is for him. That can only mean that his feelings are not one-sided, and for Justin, this is all the incentive he needs to hang on.

 

So, he accepts Liam’s hospitality, grabs the bedding from the man, and watches as the photographer disappears down the hallway, the dishes forgotten on the table.

 

***

 

One hour later, Justin has cleaned up the kitchen and is trying to sleep on the sofa. He tosses and turns, but no matter what he does, he can’t get comfortable. He replays the evening’s events endlessly, questioning what he has missed, as if his mind already knows what is happening, even though he has been too blind to see it.

 

“Fuck!” he eventually curses, rubbing his face, knowing he won’t be able to sleep anytime soon.

 

He peers down the hallway toward Liam’s bedroom. Once, then twice, he looks in that direction, debating with himself, until he finally gets up and pads down the hall. Liam’s bedroom door has been left ajar, so he pushes it open a little more, noticing that the windows aren’t closed, the light shed by the moon giving the room a special, dreamlike aura. Liam is lying on his side under the sheets, fully clothed, his covered back to Justin, and the blond briefly hesitates before quietly moving to the bed.

 

As he slides under the sheets, he welcomes the warmth, instinctively scooting closer to his companion’s body. Liam doesn’t move as he breathes in his scent. His fingers itch to touch him, but he is afraid the man will wake up if he does. So, he carefully places his hand on his hip, and spoons him as much as he can.

 

When Liam wakes up a few hours later, Justin is sleeping, snoring softly, one arm encircling his waist.

 

 

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