CHAPTER TITLE: A Day Like Any Other_Three of One Hundred
RATING: this chapter: PG
WORD COUNT: this chapter: 1,185
WARNINGS: this chapter: none, Brian POV
NON-CANON: Britin is in the countryside outside of Pittsburgh, not in West Virginia
DISCLAIMER: Nothing I can say that hasn’t been said already? Not mine.
Originally Beta'ed byherefordroad, all subsequent mistakes are mine
Story throughout contains excerpts from The Brian Kinney Operating Manual including commentary from the Editors
SUMMARY FROM THE EDITORS: ‘I went a little crazy recently. Just…a little. I got caught in my own rhetoric…my own fucking manifesto.’
Brian avoids most everything, except musing, during his first day post-Justin .
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
A Day Like Any Other
Next Day - Pittsburgh
I still felt him when I fell asleep. I was still acutely aware of all of his scratches, of all his bites and nips everywhere on me. When I fell asleep my skin was still damp from him and when I woke up, first thing I did was reach for him, I wanted his touch, but not finding him, I actually growled for him but then, and suddenly, I remembered. He was gone and again, I was on my own.
I used distraction. I got showered, I got dressed, I made coffee. I filled the hours doing things that ‘needed’ to be done around the loft. I filled the hours and once again, morning turned to afternoon, afternoon to evening when I was finally able to settle at the laptop catching up on work.
And then Michael arrived…late.
He told me he wanted us to go to Babylon. I reminded him that Babylon was a bombed-out shell. I further reminded him that it would be better, far better, if he was at home playing house with the professor, playing nurse- maid to the kid, but he insisted and since I’ve never been able to deny Michael anything, I went along. I played along. I drove.
Parking was easy, not many out tonight, especially not here. Even I didn’t want to be here and I own the place. I didn’t like it. I thought of what I could have lost and given what was lost, pretty selfish, but I couldn’t help it. Lindsay and Melanie could have been with Dusty and the thought of that made me feel like I couldn’t breathe, like I was sinking into the ground, the same feeling every time. Michael…Justin, how many times had the thoughts, the images of what could have happened gone through my mind and I couldn‘t seem to make it stop…this cold, hard terror…this inability to breath…this sinking. Because I hadn’t been there, I hadn’t been there with them when Babylon had came crashing down on them and I should have been.
Instead, I was now. At Michael‘s insistence.
He got me to dance, told me to pretend the music, to close my eyes and pretend I could feel the music, so I tried and I almost could. He came in close and I could almost hear that thumpa-thumpa and then the club started coming alive around me. I could feel it, I could see it, I could even smell it…the sweat, the air heavy with the smell of all those horny men with their needs, their desires, their lust begging to be satisfied. I knew it as a part of myself and I also knew what Michael wanted. He wanted me to reopen but I was not convinced. He talked, he argued. I listened, I avoided. We left.
We went to Woody’s for a couple of drinks and he was still talking, still doing what he could to show me the errors of my thinking, but I continued in my skepticism, unmoved. I’d told Ted and now I was telling Michael, it wasn’t right. People had died and saying it was right to rebuild didn’t make it right. I finally shoved him into a cab, I sent him home before Ben had to come looking for him. I went back inside, finding a table in the corner. I needed to think and that might be easier done here than at the loft because, well because the loft was maybe just a little haunted, strange. Maybe not but I decided stay a while longer anyway. I needed to think and the liquor flowed unimpeded.
I’d gone a little crazy recently. Just a little. I’d gotten caught-up in my own rhetoric, my own fucking manifesto. Everyone was shoving their shit down my throat. My sweet little family had me backed into a corner, I was the last man standing and it’d become my duty to what? defend my choices? my lifestyle? who-the-fuck I am? I’d been outnumbered…outgunned but I could deal, did deal, with everyone but Justin. When he turned on me, when he became them, I could no longer deal. Maybe I did lose it but…Christ.”
And maybe all he did want from me was someday, not now, just…some day, but I wasn’t sure how to give that to him, or even if I wanted to. He’d told me he understood me, he’d told me that he got me but all he did was get wrapped up in their bullshit. He wanted what they wanted, wanted their way. Fuck that. At 22 he’s thinking about kids? Bull Shit. When I’d gotten home that night, the night he left me again, he caught me totally off-guard. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Only thing I could do, I let him go.
But then, when I thought I’d lost him again, I flipped. I went from devil’s advocate to the converted; I was born-again so really, I could hardly blame him for not taking me seriously, especially at first, too radical a change. Showed, though, how much the little shit did loved me, wanting to believe so much that I had actually changed that he was willing to suspend his understanding of everything he knew about me so he could believe. But I couldn’t, I won’t live my life their way. And now that we were back on level ground; we’ll find our own way.
And Lindsay and Melanie were right. He needed to be in New York if he was going to do this thing right and I’d be damned if I’d be the one to hold him back. So, maybe I did push him off the cliff on what has come to be called ‘Cuddle Night‘. Remind me…when was the last time Justin wanted to cuddle? I was trying to make a point. I was attempting to be who he thought he wanted hoping he’d realize that wasn't who he wanted after all. My story and I will stick to it. Maybe one day all that could work for us but not now. Now he needed to focus on his art and that could only be done in New York or at least that was what I’d been led to believe. If the genius stayed in Pittsburgh, his talent would be squandered. Couldn’t have that. But who knows, maybe someday. We have time. When I’d told him I loved him, I’d meant it. So, we have time.
The bartender signaled last call, time to go. He nodded his good-night as he headed out the door and down the steps to the still crowded sidewalks of Liberty Avenue. Turning up his collar against the sudden chill, his hands warm deep in his pockets, he walked, a world unto himself, to the Vette, which would take him safely home. Safely back to his Justin-haunted chateau and hopefully to sleep. Just one of several things he’d been having trouble with since the bombing, but it’d be alright, he’d be alright…he always was.
Next Chapter: Brian starts learning how to live during this next most crucial new phase of his life.
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