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

* My endless gratitude to my friend and beta Karynn *

 

Connor’s house, Wednesday, July 22nd, 7:20 p.m.

 

Connor snatches the bouquet of daisies from Liam’s hands and storms inside the house, leaving all his guests outside. He is so annoyed at Liam for inviting Gabriel. Although, he is even more peeved at himself since, as much as he wants to appear unaffected by this unexpected turn of events, he can feel his heart hammering in his chest and he fucking hates it.

Heading to the kitchen, he opens the window and throws the flowers outside.

“You’re breaking my heart,” he hears Liam declaim. Peering around, he notices that all his guests have entered the living room. Justin and Gabriel are chatting near the couch, while Liam is standing by the kitchen counter, holding the bottle of rosé with an insufferable grin on his face.

“And you’re breaking my balls, and yet, I’m not complaining, am I?” he retorts with a fake smile of his own.

Liam snorts, and asks, obviously aiming at pissing him off even more, “You have a corkscrew? I’m thirsty.”

Connor rolls his eyes, but opens a drawer from which he retrieves a wine-opener. “There,” he snarks, placing the item on the counter. “Help yourself.”

“So, Connor, I think you mentioned some paintings earlier?” Justin inquires as he joins them with Gabriel. Connor frowns, wondering if the blond is being genuine about wanting to see his art, or if he’s offering him a temporary reprieve from having Gabriel Harrington in his home for the second time in two days.

No matter the reason, Connor is all too happy to avoid being in the same room as Gabriel, “A man who has taste. What a relief,” he quips, before grabbing Justin’s hand and guiding him down the hall from the living room.

They enter his office. The room is kind of small, a large desk covered in paper taking up most of the space, while the walls are surprisingly bare of art.

“I take it this isn’t your studio.” Justin comments, his gaze sweeping around the room.

“My studio’s upstairs. But it’s off limits,” Connor elucidates, as he strides toward a shelf to his left and retrieves a couple of paintings from the gap between the furniture and the wall. Raising one, he steps back so he’s closer to Justin. “This one is trash.”

Justin looks at the abstract and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t say that. I like your use of color, especially the light emerald strokes and full black lines over there,” he analyzes, pointing at one corner of the picture.

“You’ve got poor taste after all,” Connor counters, the tone of his voice surprisingly soft. The truth is, he loathes this painting because he hates what it represents, although he can’t talk about it with anyone.

“What about this one?” Justin ignores his response, kneeling in front of the second painting that Connor left leaning against the shelf.

The brunet puts the painting he’s holding aside and moves over next to Justin, encouraging, “Guess…”

“Hmm,” Justin frowns, as he examines the canvas. “You were younger when you painted this. Your technique isn’t as controlled as today, but…” his voice trails off as he raises his hands and carefully slides his fingers across the painting’s surface. “This is magnificent.”

Connor snorts. He wants to make a witty remark, but his throat closes up against his will. He painted this when he was eighteen, pouring everything he felt for the man who is now standing in the next room into those lines and strokes.

“What?” Justin interrogates, noticing Connor’s expression.

“I shouldn’t have painted that,” Connor declares, grabbing the painting carelessly and placing it back into the gap.

“Why?” Justin questions as he stands up. “It’s truly one of the best pieces I’ve seen in a very long time. Not that your other pieces aren’t brilliant, but this one…” he indicates the painting with his finger, “this one is special.”

“Yeah, well…” Connor isn’t sure he should confide in the blond, at all. The situation is complicated enough, and Justin seems like a good guy, which doesn’t really help.

“It’s about Gabriel, isn’t it?” Justin surmises, even though Connor can see he hesitated before sharing his conclusion.

“You’re a mind-reader or something?” Connor inquires defensively.

“No,” Justin denies, “Just a guy who used to paint and knows how it feels to be inspired by someone you love.”

Connor stares at Justin, noticing the look on his face as well as the soft, melancholic smile playing on his lips.

Then, Justin gazes up at him, his blue eyes boring into his own, and claims, “I know I’m way out of the line to tell you this, but I’m going to say it anyway...” He pauses briefly and continues, “I’m not sure what the deal between you and Gabriel is, but since it’s obvious you care about each other, I suggest you both grow a pair and stop hiding behind false pretenses. Life’s too short to be angry, especially with someone you love. And before you tell me to fuck off,” he hastily adds before Connor can protest, “think hard about what you want. Because you’re fucking lucky to have a choice. I wasn’t.” he concludes, his voice turning somewhat hoarse.

With those last words, the blond softly touches his arm, before walking out of the office to join Liam and Gabriel.

***

For the next hour, they all pretend everything is alright. Liam is in a good mood; Justin is the perfect guest, regaling everyone with stories about Philly and Pittsburgh; Connor has calmed down and has stopped glaring daggers at Gabriel; and they’re having a pretty good time. Connor has even heated some frozen pizza, and while they’ve avoided any touchy subjects, the gathering is actually turning out better than Gabriel thought it would.

Gabriel has a hard time looking away from Connor. He was set on ignoring his feelings for the brunet until he touched him the day before, but since then it has been like something clicked inside of him. Moreover, ever since Liam revealed that someone hit Connor, Gabriel has feel an insidious rage overtaking him.

For now, he needs to keep his feelings under control, since he can’t exactly demand answers while Liam and Justin are still here.  

“I like your last painting, Connor,” Gabriel declares, addressing the painter directly for the first time this evening.

“I agree, your collection of Lakevallée paintings at the gallery is brilliant,” Justin interjects. “The latest addition is a very good depiction of the dock.”

“Hmm,” Connor seems indifferent to the praise. Gabriel frowns. Since the painter returned from his office, he hasn’t made more than a couple of snarky comments, which, knowing Connor like Gabriel does, is quite unusual.

“I’m not sure what you talked about earlier, but I think he’s been lobotomized,” Liam remarks, indicating Connor with a toss of his head.

Justin elbows Liam, who is sitting next to him on the couch.

“Ouch!” Liam complains, rubbing his side.

“Give him a break,” Justin demands, sharing a look with Connor, which increases Gabriel’s anxiety but also gives him a new resolve.

He takes a deep breath and announces, “I need to speak to Connor.”  looking right at his childhood friend.

The brunet turns to look at him, his face blank, but Gabriel doesn’t care. Maybe Connor will tell him to fuck off before he even begins, but whatever he does, Gabriel is determined to fight him if he needs to, and honestly, the probability that they will is pretty high.

Liam glances between Gabriel and Connor, before patting Justin’s thigh. “That’s our clue.” Justin nods and gets up, too, as Liam intones, “Thanks for dinner.”

“It wasn’t dinner. It was a frozen pizza that has been rotting in my freezer for five years.” Connor ripostes, the prospect of being alone with Gabriel apparently bringing back his charming sense of humor.

Liam snorts as he grabs his jacket from the hat rack, handing Justin his too, drawling, “Let’s do this again sometime. It was so much fun, and the wine was exquisite.”

Connor directs a scathing look at him and gestures toward the front door. “It’s open. Shoo!”

Liam smirks and walks outs, with Justin on his heels, although once more Gabriel notices the look they share as the blond whispers something in the painter’s ear before stepping outside.

Connor closes the door behind them, but doesn’t turn to look at Gabriel. The gallery owner can see the stillness in his body, reflecting how tense the painter is.

“Connor,” he calls his name.

Connor doesn’t move.

“Look at me,” he encourages as he tentatively moves closer. When Connor still refuses to turn around, Gabriel lets out a sigh, but he doesn’t back down. Covering the distance separating him from the brunet, he stands right behind him, and breathes out, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Connor questions quietly.

Gabriel isn’t sure where to start, so he says the first thing that comes to mind, “For leaving.”

Connor snorts. “You’re still here.”

“I don’t mean now...” Gabriel closes his eyes briefly, knowing Connor has surmised what he means. They’ve never talked about their kiss, not once. “I was afraid, that night at your first exhibition. When you kissed me,” he remembers, “I freaked out.”

“No shit,” Connor grunts.

“Yeah. You can tell me how much of a pathetic, insufferable coward I was.” Gabriel bargains.

“You are a pathetic, insufferable coward.” Connor immediately argues.

“That’s not exactly true.” Gabriel objects as he raises a hand to Connor’s shoulder, feeling the man flinch at the touch. His hand lingers there for a few seconds, before slowly traveling down the painter’s arm.

Connor peers down, paralyzed by Gabriel’s gesture.

“I want you to forgive me.” Gabriel utters, moving closer, his breath tickling Connor’s skin as he laces their fingers together.

Gabriel can hear Connor’s breathing alter. The man has never been easy to convince, being so stubborn and annoying at times and appearing like such a childish shithead to the people he doesn’t give a damn about. But Gabriel knows he is much more than this persona he uses to fool people, and he fervently hopes it’s not too late, although Connor’s silence is not a good sign.

“You have every right to be mad at me.” Gabriel proclaims, hoping that Connor can hear his sincerity. “I ran away from you because of what I felt that night, and when I came back, I never fought for you. Even though I could have been your friend, I didn’t try, and no matter what...”

“What do you mean you ran away from me because of what you felt?” Connor cuts him off, breaking their connection as he pivots to gaze at Gabriel. “You never cared in that way. You ran away because you didn’t want to deal with me claiming I was in love with you. And you claimed you were my friend, but it was bullshit!”

The blond winces, noticing the turmoil in the painter’s dark brown eyes, and exclaims, “That’s not true!”

“Oh, please! You left because you were afraid of your feelings and couldn’t deal with loving a fag?” Connor reformulates incredulously, now facing Gabriel. “Do you really think I’m going to believe that you had…” he furrows his brow, “have feelings for me when you haven’t given a shit about me for almost fifteen years?”

Gabriel hates hearing Connor talk like this, because it makes him realize exactly how much he’s hurt this man. Retrospectively, that’s exactly what happened, though. At nineteen, Gabriel couldn’t deal with loving a guy. He wasn’t ‘gay’, had never been attracted to men, and all of a sudden, Connor challenged everything he’d believed about himself. Gabriel was so young, unable to understand that his feelings were genuine, and that there was no shame in loving Connor. He now knows that gender is unimportant, that all that matters is the person you love. He has ‘loved’ several women, has even been married for a couple of years, but the truth is, he’s been running away from the only person he truly cares about - the man who is standing right in front of him, and that from the look of it is ready to rip him a new one.

“You’re straight, Gabriel! You’ve told me so time and time again. How can you expect me to believe you now?” Connor inquires, Gabriel sensing the painter is not going to believe him until he proves him wrong.

There is only one thing left to do, then.

Gabriel sees the exact moment when Connor realizes what is going to happen. His eyes widen, and for a second, Gabriel fears the brunet is going to stop him, but he doesn’t. So, Gabriel stops hesitating and does what he should have a long time ago.

He takes Connor in his arms, feeling the man shiver. He cups his cheeks and leans in, covering those lips he wants so much. And then, he just feels.

Fuck, he is kissing a man. It’s brutal, feverish, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on that thought, because Connor moans against his lips. When he does, something strong grips Gabriel in his very core, so fucking intense that he pushes the other man against the door. The brunet lets out a sigh as his back hits the hard surface, the sound making Gabriel snap, intensifying their connection. He claims Connor with his whole being, devouring his mouth, their bodies pressed tightly together as he unleashes years of suppressed yearning, desire, and despair.

Connor suddenly turns Gabriel around and traps him against the door, claiming his lips passionately, their tongues duelling fiercely. Feeling Connor's erection against his own, Gabriel unconsciously starts moving his hips, aware he's going to come in his pants if they don’t slow down, but he doesn’t care. The truth is, he needs to come from Connor’s touch, has needed it for so long, that he pushes harder against the brunet’s dick, prompting the painter to grab his leg and place it around his hips to intensify their pleasure.

“Gabe…” Connor cries out, breaking their kiss.

Gabriel realizes Connor is climaxing, feels it against his denim-covered dick and his orgasm unexpectedly pours out of him, leaving him both blissed out and enervated. His face burrowing into Connor’s neck, he tries to catch his breath and to recover from one of the most intensely erotic moments of his life.

It takes him a full minute to regain the power of speech, and when he does, he doesn’t pull back. Instead, he gently breathes out, “Do you believe me now?” in Connor’s ear, his warm breath grazing the brunet’s skin and causing the man to shiver.

Connor doesn’t respond, but he lifts one hand to caress Gabriel’s hair. The blond tilts his head back to gaze into his lover’s eyes, frowning as he tentatively touches Connor’s cheek, just below his eye.  

Connor pulls away, snapping, “Don’t.”

“Who did that to you?” Gabriel asks the question he’s bottled up all evening, his voice laced with anger as he stares at the bruise Connor tried to disguise.

Connor doesn’t respond, just gazes back at him with a wistful, almost sad look on his face. “You should go,” he announces, evading his query.

“Connor, don’t shut me out,” Gabriel pleads, trying to make the brunet look at him, but Connor doesn’t allow it. Instead, he attempts to move away, but the blond stops him by tugging on his hand, pulling him against himself again and covering his lips, trying to show him everything he feels.

Connor responds to the kiss, but when Gabriel reluctantly breaks their connection, the brunet refuses to meet his gaze.

Realizing the painter needs some space, Gabriel decides not to push for more. As he pulls on his jacket, though, he firmly declares, “I love you, Connor,” before walking out.


***

 

Thirty minutes later, the chalet…

 

Liam and Justin have just gotten back, after the photographer made a detour by the hotel for his companion to pick up his car. Both men having decided it’s too early to go to bed, Liam prepares coffee while Justin walks outside, watching the last gleams of light fade from the sky.

 

“Here,” Liam carefully hands a cup of coffee to Justin before sitting next to him on the bench, one leg folded under him.

 

“Thanks,” Justin responds, blowing on the steamy beverage. Enjoying the quiet, mild night, he peers furtively at Liam, itching to move closer.

 

Instead, he puts his coffee down next to the bench and stands up to go inside. Heading to the couch where he negligently tossed his duffle bag, he bends over and unzips it. Retrieving what he was looking for, he walks back outside, sitting back down next to Liam with the sketchbook he used earlier this afternoon.

 

Liam eyes him as he detaches a sheet. “Here,” he hands the sketch, noticing the guarded expression on the brunet’s face. “This is for you.”

 

Liam picks up the drawing without a word, gazing at his image on the page.

 

“You like it?” Justin asks hesitantly as the silence drags for too long.

 

Liam peers at him, an indecipherable expression on his face, and Justin feels his anxiety rising. Eventually, the man utters, “It’s…” but he stops, just gazing at the drawing and not answering Justin’s question. The blond frowns when Liam places the sketch next to himself, inquiring, “What are you going to do once you go back to Philly?”

 

“Huh?” Justin isn’t sure how they went from him sharing a gift with Liam to Liam questioning him about what he’ll do once he leaves Lakevallée.

 

“You said you hadn’t drawn in years before coming here. What do you do for a living then?” Liam clarifies.

 

Justin nods, explaining, “I just graduated with a degree in graphic animation. I’ve applied to work for a firm in Philly, which specializes in three-dimensional computer graphics.”

 

“You think you nailed it?” Liam questions, staring absently at the lake.

 

“Hard to tell,” Justin shakes his head. “I have no experience, so it’s quite unlikely, but who knows? The interview went well, so…”

 

“Hmm…” Liam acknowledges.

 

Justin isn’t sure exactly what’s going on. He doesn’t know why Liam’s mood seems to have shifted since he saw the drawing, so he decides to talk about something else. “Do you think Gabriel and Connor refrained from killing each other after we left?”

 

Liam snorts. “Fuck if I know, but it’s past time they deal with their shit.”

 

“It’s not always that easy.” Justin counters, suddenly remembering his forgotten cup of coffee and picking it up from the ground.

 

“Well, we sure can’t resolve their problems for them,” Liam argues.

 

“Yes but…” Justin begins, grimacing when he takes a sip of his coffee. “Shit, it's cold.”

 

“There’s a microwave in the cabinet above the dishwasher.” Liam informs Justin.

 

The blond gets up and heads inside to the kitchen. A minute later, he’s back, holding a hot cup of coffee. Sitting sideways on the bench facing Liam, he glances toward the lake, commenting, “This place is so peaceful. Though I’m not sure I could get used to the quietness if I lived here on my own.”

 

Liam chuckles dryly, looking down at the ground. “You get used to it.”

 

“Where are you from?” Justin inquires, leaning his head on his hand, his elbow resting on the back of the bench. “You never told me.”

 

Liam rolls his lips in, his gaze vacant for a few seconds, before replying vaguely, “The East Coast.”

 

Justin keeps looking at Liam, hoping the man will be more specific, but when it’s obvious he won’t elaborate, the blond asks, “How in the world did you end up here?”

 

Liam lowers his head and massages his face, seemingly tired. “It’s complicated,” he eventually responds, before glancing away.

 

Justin sighs, wondering once again why Liam is so mysterious all the time. But it’s obvious he won’t confide in him anytime soon, and the blond doesn’t want to waste the little time he has with Liam questioning the man’s motives.

 

“Come on,” he encourages, taking one last sip of his coffee, putting it back on the ground, and standing up, “let’s go for a walk.”

 

“Huh?” Liam peers up with a frown.

 

“I want to go for a walk,” Justin repeats.

 

“It’s nighttime, in case you didn’t notice,” Liam protests.

 

“But the moonlight is bright enough to take the path by the lake.” Justin argues, gesticulating toward the trail which starts at the pier.

 

Liam sighs. “You’re not going to let it go until I agree, are you?”

 

Justin places his hands on Liam’s thighs and leans down, breathing out, “No.”

 

Liam tries very hard not to smile at Justin’s seductive expression, but fails. “Okay.” Standing up, he begins to walk toward the path, but halts, scolding, “But I’m not holding your hand.”

 

Justin chuckles wholeheartedly, muttering, “Whatever,” as he strides past Liam and heads toward the lake.

 

***

 

Twenty minutes later, Justin isn’t that thrilled with his impulsive plan. It’s the third time he’s jumped in less than ten minutes, thinking he heard a strange noise coming from the woods.

 

“What’s that?” he cries out.

 

Liam is laughing hard now. “It must be a wolf. They like blonds in this area.”

 

“Stop that!” Justin chides, punching Liam in the arm. “It’s not funny!”

 

“You’re the one who wanted to go for a walk in the moonlight,” Liam mocks, “not me.”

 

“I didn’t know there would be monsters in the woods.” Justin objects, instinctively moving closer from Liam. “You could have warned me.”

 

“What? That the forest is full of starving bears?” Liam innocently states.

 

“Oh my God. We’re going to die,” Justin overreacts on purpose, clutching at Liam’s waist. The man laughs at his over-the-top behavior and puts an arm around his shoulders.

 

“Don’t worry,” Liam leans in to whisper in his ear, “I’ll protect you.”

 

“You’d better,” Justin huffs before chuckling.

 

“What?” Liam asks, his brow furrowing playfully.

 

“We’re not holding hands, but this is even better,” Justin gloats.

 

Liam snorts, scoffing fondly, “Twat.”

 

The endearment escapes his lips as he lightly pinches Justin’s shoulder, but the blond barely feels the touch; all he can focus on is Liam’s voice, the tone he used to tease him affectionately sounding so familiar and making him ache.

 

He stops walking and looks down with a frown, before peering up at Liam as the brunet inquires in confusion, “What?”

 

Justin doesn't reply, too busy questioning why he feels so overwhelmed by Liam right now. How can this man remind him so much of Brian? They’re so different in many ways, and yet, their resemblance is uncanny. Not just physically. There’s something more, in the way Liam moves or speaks, something Justin can’t grasp.

 

Justin looks away as he tries to shut off his thoughts. Eventually shaking himself out of his trance, he realizes Liam is still looking at him, waiting for an answer. He replies as nonchalantly as possible, “Nothing.”

 

Liam proposes, “Let’s go back. It's getting late.” although Justin immediately notices that his companion’s good mood has shifted, too. Glancing up at the photographer, the blond observes him standing in the moonlight, until the brunet’s eyes land on him, holding his gaze.

 

“Liam…” he calls his name, needing something, even though he doesn't know what it could be.

 

Liam ignores him, breaking their gaze and taking a couple of steps before halting in the middle of the path. With a sigh, he eventually acknowledges, “What?”

 

Justin isn’t sure what he wants to say. All he knows is that in this instant, he feels love for this man, so fucking real and powerful that he needs to face it and tell Liam the truth. There is a good chance the photographer will think he’s crazy, but so what? He will be gone in a few days.

 

So, against all judgement, and even if he knows he is insane to confess his love to someone he barely knows, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”

 

The silence that ensues is deafening.

 

Liam doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge his declaration at all, and it fucking hurts. Justin can stand neither the quietness nor the pressure in his chest, so he pushes, “You know what? Actually, I know I am. I can even say that I love you, and I know it’s insane and pathetic and that I really must be out of my mind to confess something like this, but here I am, blurting out my love for you, knowing I’ll probably end up heartbroken since I’m supposed to leave soon and I don’t even know if you feel anything for me and-”

 

“Stop,” Liam cuts him off, but now that Justin has started, he’s not ready to stop.

 

“What for? It’s the truth. I love you.” Justin asserts. “Either deal with it by telling me to fuck off or take me in your bed or whatever the fuck you want to do, but don't tell me-”

 

“Stop!” Liam snaps, his voice echoing into the night as he turns around to face Justin.

 

The look on Liam’s face knocks the air out of Justin - a mixture of pain, sadness, and something the blond can’t identify but which scares the shit out of him. His heart is hammering in his chest now, so fucking fast, that he feels like he can’t breathe.

 

“You can’t…” Liam tries to speak, but he’s too upset. He winces and turns around once more, letting out a loud, “Fuck!” while Justin stands still, not understanding why he is shaking as he witnesses Liam’s outburst.

 

And then, Liam walks over to him and kisses him.

 

Justin is so astounded that he doesn’t respond immediately, but his body reacts to the brunet’s touch before his mind understands what’s happening. He can feel his heartbeat resonating in his ears, the rush of blood through his veins unmistakable as the world fades away. Liam’s lips are claiming his with an unexpected passion, the brunet’s tongue seeking entrance to his mouth, probing while his hands roam over Justin’s hair, his neck, his cheeks. Justin allows Liam to dive in, and it's warm and wet and hot and feverish, and for a second, the blond forgets everything and just feels.

 

But then, his mind starts screaming. This touch, these lips, these feelings only one man has ever engendered, he shouldn't feel them. Not now, not after so many years without him. And yet, he does, which can only mean one thing.

 

His heart skips a beat as he recognizes him.

 

For a fleeting moment, he tries to resist the truth, tries to deny that Brian could be so cruel as to let him believe he’s dead, when he is breathing and living.

 

But he can’t, because he knows these lips, intimately. He recognizes the gentleness of his fingers, the urgency of his kiss, the way Brian has always touched him like no one else exists but him, if only for a brief moment. He breathes in his scent, questioning how he could have been so blind, torn between his need to yell and cry, and the urge to hug Brian as tight as he can. No matter his choice, he will fall apart anyway.

 

He feels tears on his cheeks as he breaks the kiss and tightens his arms around Brian, his nose burrowing into the brunet’s neck, inhaling deeply. For a few seconds, he allows himself to love him, ignoring the lie and focusing on the thought that he is alive.

 

But all too soon, he can’t bear the embrace any longer and pushes Brian away.

 

“Brian…” the name escapes his lips as soon as their eyes lock, Brian flinching as he realizes that Justin knows, hearing the pain in his voice.

 

The blond shakes his head and steps back, needing to put some distance between them.

 

“Justin, wait!” Brian tries to stop him, so he turns and starts to run.

 

He isn’t sure how long he runs or how he keeps from falling. When he stops, he prays Brian hasn’t followed him. He is breathless, livid from the betrayal, barely feeling the tears running down his cheeks. He’s never felt anything like this.

 

Stumbling, he almost trips over a tree trunk, and collapses to the ground.

 

 

Chapter End Notes:

 


 

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