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Wednesday Posting_A Time From Now_2

STORY TITLE: A Time From Now
    CHAPTER TITLE: And The Fifth One Flies_Two of One Hundred
AUTHOR: Gaeln
RATING: this chapter: PG13ish
WORD COUNT: this chapter: 1,225
WARNINGS: this chapter: none, Justin POV
DISCLAIMER: Nothing I can say that hasn’t been said already? Not mine
   Originally  Beta'ed by[info]herefordroad, all subsequent mistakes are mine
   Story throughout contains excerpts from The Brian Kinney Operating Manual including commentary from the Editors
NON-CANON: Britin is in the countryside outside of Pittsburgh, not in West Virginia
SUMMARY FROM THE EDITORS: ‘Will they ever catch the motherfuckers who blew up our club? Who killed our people? I don’t know, I don‘t. What I do know is that I won’t be there, I won’t be a part of that healing because I’m leaving.’
    Justin muses on whatthefuck? while in the air between Pittsburgh and his new life in New York
AUTHOR‘S NOTES: This story projects 59 years into the future and reflects all that that entails, many of the loose ends are tied-up. I dance with POV, I dance with time, in essence, I just dance to the song Brian & Justin sang to me.
    Contains: Brian_others, Justin_others. They grow old, they are always together for just as long as time allows, but, ultimately, they will die.
    As someone wise once said, ‘In the end, it’s all about Brian and Justin’ and I can only agree


A Time From Now

And The Fifth One Flies
***************
One Month Later - A late night flight between Pittsburgh & New York

Since he’d delayed until the last possible moment, barely making his flight, from the time he’d left Brian to the time the New York bound plane left the runway, Justin hadn’t had any real time to think…to ponder…to consider what he was actually doing. Once settled though, once he was able to breathe easier, that was all he pretty much did, exclusively and non-stop and what he thought about, what he pondered and considered, ranged all the way from the seriously sublime like how fucking beautiful Brian had looked when he’d left, to the essentially confused like whatthefuck and why?, to the vaguely pissed-off like just who-the-hell’s big idea was this anyway? Once comfortable, Justin suddenly had way too much time to stare into the nighttime-abyss just outside the plane’s window and think.

He’d understood Brian not wanting to bring him to the airport, he was pretty sure he hadn’t really wanted him to anyway, not much caring for the idea of saying goodbye, no…later, in the car or at the curb or while dreading security. None of that would’ve felt right. But leaving him in bed all nakedly wanton, that really had felt just so very right. He knew that for months to come, he’d be reliving the feeling of crawling slowly out from under him, of even more slowly getting dressed in front of him, the entire time feeling him watching, Brian’s eyes all over him and even if he’d also felt just a little freaked out because it’d seemed like Brian had been trying to memorize him, like afraid if he didn’t, he’d forget him.

Justin sighed, he remembered -- unnoticing when he softly trailed his tongue over his lower lip in a kind of gesture of reverence -- the sweet beads of sweat he’d licked from all over Brian’s back and legs and ass, especially from his beautifully elegant, perfectly-proportioned and definitely well-toned ass. The taste, the smell, the feel of Brian remained with him and always would. He didn’t much care when he felt himself getting a little hard remembering exactly how he’d lapped and bit and sucked everything everywhere. How he’d begged him with his mouth and with his hands and his whispered words, not to forget him. How he’d tried to make Brian understand, with all that he was, that he would never be, would never allow himself to be, forgotten. Simply put…Not Going To Happen.

But then he couldn’t leave, was amazed now to remember how he’d stayed outside the loft’s door for several minutes, that seemed like seconds, just pressing his forehead against the cold metal, like trying to press its permanence into him, whispering Brian’s name over and over again. Not wanting to go, almost thinking that maybe he really didn’t have to but knowing that really, he did. So when he’d heard the cab’s horn from down on the street, he’d left, understanding that the idea, the very concept that the outcome could have been any different was illusion, just him being delusional…again.

I have to go. Fuck…and remind me why? Oh, oh…I know…I know why. Because I need to prove to me, to him, to everyone that I can make it on my own, but fuck…New York, suppressing a nervous shiver.

“Are you alright?” the older woman sitting in the very tight commuter coach seat next to me asked.

Not sure what I did to focus her concern, still. “I’m fine, really, just stressing a little.”

She smiled her understanding. “I thought as much. But you really must remember that statistics show that flying’s actually the safest form of conveyance, there’s really nothing to ‘stress’ about.”

I, of course, agreed. “I’ll keep that in mind.” And she seemed satisfied enough with my response that she went back to her reading while I, obsessively, went back to my worrying, mostly about non-flying related issues, but not entirely.

I worried about Britin, will he keep it? Doubt it. And about Babylon, will he rebuild it? Probably. I knew that that was what Michael and Ted wanted him to do, but what about Liberty Avenue? I worried about our little world because I can’t imagine how they’ll ever get past this wound, how they will ever heal? Will they ever catch the motherfuckers who blew up our club, who killed our people? I don’t know, I don‘t. What I do know is that I won’t be there; I won’t be a part of that healing because I’m leaving. When everything is the most at risk…when everything is the most at jeopardy…I leave.

He worried about everything he was leaving behind because he couldn’t really understand how to worry about what lay ahead. He had a name attached to an address and that was all. His new roommate and he had talked a total of once and all they had in common was Daphne. Instead of the excitement he knew he should be feeling, Justin realized he was only driving himself crazy with pointless concern so he made a mental effort to switch gears. He may not be able to find where his enthusiasm-for-impending-relocation lived, but it was all too easy to find where his memories of life-changing-moments did. They lived right on the surface of his skin, for almost anyone to see. They lived right on the surface of his being.

Remembering that night, the night when they’d both known, that sudden and complete shock of realization, that who they were becoming and the life they were trying to create wasn’t right. Brian had changed too much and mostly for the wrong reasons. He’d thought he knew what he wanted from Brian, but when given that, Justin realized he’d been wrong, too much of a compromise. That in trying to please him, Brian had become someone else, was no longer being true to himself, so the change in him couldn’t have lasted. Small change brought on over time and through love…probably. Great huge and completely sudden change brought on mostly by fear…not even possible.

Justin also realized that Brian wasn’t the only one who’d changed and for all the wrong reasons, he knew that about himself as well, that for a while he’d been confused by the wants and the needs of everyone around him forgetting that they were all at such different places in their lives than he was…Michael and Ben, Lindsay and Melanie, Debbie and Carl even Emmett and Ted. Surrounded by them, he had started to believe that he wanted now what they wanted or already had, but it wasn’t like they had wanted their little coupleness when they were his age. Well, maybe Lindsay and Melanie but lesbians so… And really, why the hell should he want that now? Twenty-two, he was only 22 so…someday. Maybe someday he’ll want that whole house-husband-kid thing but not now.

Now was for his art. 

Yeah, for a while I think I just got a little confused but fuck, we did look amazingly in our tuxes and I have to admit Brian’s right, Armani is ’so’ me. Who knew?


Next Chapter: Brian avoids most everything, except musing, during his first day post-Justin

for original post & additional chapters, please see here

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
herefordroad
Aug. 21st, 2008 12:15 am (UTC)
justin pondering his last look at brian before leaving for nyc still gives my heart a tug. but he is only 22 and this makes sense:

"Now was for his art."

but i still enjoyed a lighter moment at the end of the chapter:

"we did look amazingly beautiful in our tuxes. I have to admit, Brian’s right, Armani is ’so’ me. Who knew?"

jeannie
gaeln
Aug. 21st, 2008 06:22 pm (UTC)
I'm glad you liked the 'lighter touch' at the end, I'm trying to bring that to him. thanks so much for commenting.
armandyouidiot
Aug. 21st, 2008 02:29 am (UTC)
My, that hurt about as much as the show. You are certainly a gifted writer.

I liked this thought, "He worried about everything he was leaving behind because he couldn’t really understand how to worry about what was ahead."
gaeln
Aug. 21st, 2008 06:24 pm (UTC)
sounds funny saying I'm glad it hurt but...I am. Justin is leaving everything behind, how scary but amazing. thanks for commenting.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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