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Wednesday Posting_A Time From Now_24

STORY TITLE: A Time From Now
CHAPTER TITLE: Waiting_Twenty-Four of One Hundred
RATING: this chapter: PG
WORD COUNT: this chapter: 1,745
WARNINGS: none, Jamey POV plus Mychael POV a little
DISCLAIMER: Nothing I can say that hasn’t been said already? Not mine.
Originally Beta’ed by herefordroad, subsequent mistakes are mine
Story throughout contains excerpts from The Brian Kinney Operating Manual including commentary from the Editors
SUMMARY FROM THE EDITORS: ‘Nudging his shoulder, the guy looked up at him like he wanted to tell him to just go away already but instead he smiled before returning to his drink…dismissing him. ‘
On a mission from Brian, Justin meets up with three charming boys from Kansas
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

Same Night - New York

“Jamey, come on, cab’s here,” Mychael yelled, while sprinting down the hallway toward the front door, “we‘re leaving, so… get a move on.” Jameson listened as his two best friends tore down their apartment building’s stairs, them both rushing to greet the unending nighttime street party waiting just outside, while he finished dressing.

“Just a fucking minute, alright?” he yelled. “Cab ain’t goin’ nowhere without…” his voice trailed away. He returned to his humming, he knew no one was listening anyway and he returned to checking himself out in the full-length mirror that hung on the bathroom door. His skinny jeans, low-riding and black, were double-belted with his Simpson’s boxers just peeking out above the waistband since he hadn’t fully committed to that fashion statement just yet, and his t-shirt, short and also black, was worn under the white linen shirt, unbuttoned, Mychael and Tristan had given him for his 21st birthday last year. “Not too bad if I do say so myself,” he murmured to his reflection who smiled, seemingly satisfied, back to him. Last thing, he scrubbed his fingers through his dirty-blond hair thereby achieving, hopefully, that ‘just fucked’ look as he bound down the hallway and grabbing his keys, his wallet and bolting out the door, slamming it shut behind him, he found his friends waiting in the cab downstairs. They were all just waiting, with the cool, dark night of expectation, for him to get a move on.

They could have taken the bus to Eden Skye, they could’ve even walked, in fact, had a few times, at least to get home, when either a little too drunk for a bus or a little too broke for a cab, but to get there? No way. To get there like they belonged, they needed to take a cab, which far better suited their image of who they wanted to be, three boys from Kansas…now, three authentic New Yorkers…someday. They wanted to arrive in style, looking pretty, shit…looking hot, so that was exactly what they did.

Already dancing, even before entering the club, suddenly surrounded by a golden light, shining dark and glittery, suddenly surrounded by tribal music, throbbing and familiar and suddenly surrounded by a roomful of glistening and beautiful men, once again, Jamey dissolved into this world…his world, of fantasy and hope. Maybe tonight he’d find someone; maybe, just maybe he’d find him tonight.

They took up their usual location across from the main bar, backed up against a wall to lean against, protected together yet open to everyone and everything around them. And always expectant. Time passed. They danced and they nursed their drinks not really having much expendable cash. Mychael disappeared for a while, so did Tristan, while Jamey waited.

And it was like Jamey felt him before he even saw him, felt this sudden shift in air pressure when he entered Eden Skye and turning toward the open door, Jameson watched as a beautiful blond stood alone and unsure just inside the safety of this place, standing just inside his event horizon,  Scanning the room, taking in everything, when once apparently satisfied, he wandered to the bar, avoiding the admiring gazes, the already whispered offers, the gentle pets of the other club boys. Jameson watched as he sat on a bar stool, his back toward them and, suddenly he knew why he‘d been waiting.

“He’s hot,” observed Tristan, following Jameson’s gaze.

Mychael nodded his agreement. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him here before, have you?” Jameson shook his head.

“Pretty sure I’d remember him if I’d ever seen him before,” Tristan surmised and correctly too.

Jameson realized he sure-as-shit would’ve remembered this guy if he’d ever seen him before. He waited awhile, first wanting to see what the guy would do before he made a move, but he also knew he couldn’t wait too long. Still, the guy just sat there, his head down and Jameson imagined him staring into his drink. So, he watched the guy’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar, realizing he looked tired and alone, just not used to Eden Skye. After some time spent analyzing how the other boys approached the guy, knowing just when it was time for him  to, Jameson pushed off the wall and, after handing his unfinished drink to Mychael and after acknowledging both their smirks of ’go get ‘em, baby’, he nonchalantly strolled over to the bar. Signaling to the bartender his excuse for being there, another Vodka Collins, he stood near the guy, but his head was still down, his hands cradling his drink and his aloneness surrounded him, an invisible yet tangible barrier.

But Jameson felt fearless. Nudging his shoulder, causing the guy to look at him like he wanted to tell him to just go away already, instead he smiled before returning to his drink…dismissing him. Undeterred, he leaned in close, confiding, “I know this sounds y’know, like bullshit or whatever, but I can see that you’re new here, am I right?” Nodding his head, the guy’s eyes still never left his drink. “Well, alright then,” Jameson said, “we are now obviously getting somewhere. So see, I’m with my friends. Over there?” The guy briefly looked over his shoulder toward them, then up to Jameson and finally back down to his drink. Feeling a flash of disappointment, Jameson nonetheless persevered. “Look, if you want, and as I’m sure you know you are never under any obligation, you could come hang with us. I know it can be uncomfortable all on your own and I can even promise you that we won’t like attack you or…anything weird, and I do not make a promise like that to just anyone, only to the very, very special few.“ He was hopeful when he heard the guy chuckle. ”Okay?” He couldn’t help but push the point.

“I‘m good right now, but thanks.”

Dismissed…again. “Yeah, yeah, sure, sure, but, just letting you know, I’m Jameson, most everyone calls me Jamey, and my buddies are Tristan and Mychael. We’ve known each other since forever, serious and, did you know? we’re kind of new here ourselves. Yes we are. Been prowling this den of iniquity for a couple of months maybe, so…yeah,” and his words drifted quiet. Then, with one last burst of being braver than usual, Jameson said, “So, come hang with us, y’know? if you find you’re not so good as you’d like to think you are being alone.”

“Maybe,” the guy said, looking up at him and nothing more. Having gotten his drink and being unable to think of anything else to say that wouldn‘t sound stupid, Jameson left. He was half-way back, just in the middle of the little slice of dance floor that divided his friends from the bar when the guy called, “Jameson.” Turning back, Jameson smiled to hear him say, “I‘m Justin.” And the guy - Justin…smiled too. “Just wanted you to know, I’m Justin.”

Jamey nodded, taking in this information, knowing that it meant something, that it was significant. He was no longer just the guy, now he was Justin. After smiling his thanks, Jameson did his little happy dance the rest of the way back to his friends.

Mychael watched as Justin shook his head, grinning at Jamey‘s little outburst of internal happiness made physical, before turning back to his drink and Mychael felt something weird, a nervousness he couldn’t’ve explain if he’d had to. Something about this guy made him nervous, but he was going to keep it quiet. If he said anything, Tristan and Jamey would just think he was being jealous or something, so he’d just wait and see.

From then on, they watched him. They watched as he was cruised, as he accepted and rejected dance partners. They watched when, as one guy got too aggressive, Justin shoved him away, anger blazing through his eyes. And they watched as, each time, he returned to the bar, to his drink alone. They still continued on as before, dancing some, drinking some, and now with all of them also watching.

Jameson thought to ask him to dance, but his fear of further rejection stopped him and his mood deteriorates equal to the number of times Justin returned to the bar facing away from them. At least until that fateful moment when, instead of facing in, Justin faced out and Jameson perked up a little. But when doing this only got him cruised even more, Justin clearly became annoyed. When he stood, Jamey pushed off the wall, vaguely alarmed, but Justin didn‘t leave. Instead, walking, drink in hand, across the little slice of dance floor to them, smiling, he said, “Invitation still open?” He looked briefly from one to the other, asking, so it was Tristan who said, “Yeah, of course.” He moved closer to them then, almost immediately becoming a part of them. They talked some, gradually learning a little about each other. Guys still cruised him, but Justin told all of them, “I’m with my friends,” and Jameson smiled.

Every once in a while Mychael and Tristan left to dance, leaving Jameson and Justin alone. And they were happy for him, a little jealous maybe, but they were basically with each other and had been for seven years, having gotten together secretly, while they were high school freshmen. Each danced with others some, each hooked-up a little, but mostly they went home with each other and, for now anyway, all that worked for them just fine. While dancing, they discussed how cute Jamey and Justin looked with each other, how fine they danced with each other. They decided it was partly because they were almost the same size, almost the same coloring, but it was more than that because it was also the way they came together, the way they fit together, even the way they touched. Tristan and Mychael just couldn’t help but sigh, maybe Tristan a little more heartfelt than Mychael, his unease hadn’t left him, but not so much that anyone would notice.

And when they all talked together, it was about unimportant stuff because, after all, they had only just met him. They did tell Justin one very important fact though, that they came to Eden Skye every Friday night. He could always find them here. Every Single Friday Night. When he finally told them he had to go, Jameson walked him outside where he couldn’t help but notice Justin’s nervousness. Not bad nervous necessarily but nervous nonetheless. When he tried to kiss him good-night, Justin stopped him, but the smile he gave him almost made his refusal not hurt…at least as much. And maybe they didn’t exchange cell numbers, but that was okay too because Justin knew where to find him. And Jameson would be happy to wait for him. At least for a while.

Next Chapter: Brian and Justin discuss relevant things pertaining to art

for original post & additional chapters, please see here


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