Golem
folder
M through R › Queer As Folk
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
3,451
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Queer As Folk
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
3,451
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Queer As Folk, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Golem
Brian never showed up at Justin's funeral.
Some thought his absence was the final proof that he had never really cared for Justin. Others took it as further evidence as his coldness. Jennifer Taylor, although secretly relieved that she didn't have to face Brian, remarked that the least Brian could have done after getting her son killed was make an appearance at the funeral. Melanie chimed in with her usual I-hate-Brian-Kinney ichor, saying that he was probably off somewhere getting his dick sucked. Debbie, for perhaps the first time in her life, kept her big mouth shut. But she knew that Brian had cared for Justin, and she was certain that if he was getting his dick sucked that it was only because he didn't know any other way to manage his pain.
Only Debbie and Michael had seen any of Brian's real reaction to Sunshine's death. They had both been at the hospital when the doctors said that Justin's vitals had crashed and they hadn't been able to resuscitate him, both heard his quiet, shaky voice asking if he could see Justin to say goodbye, both watched through the glass as Brian kissed Justin one last time and whispered a final 'later', both seen him shut down the second he stepped out of Justin's room afterward.
But even Michael hadn't seen the extent of Brian's grief. He hadn't been there when Brian had let himself into the Novotny house and, without a word to Debbie or Vic, climbed the stairs to Justin's room. It was Debbie, not Michael, who peered into Justin's room some time later to find Brian curled up in a little ball on Justin's bed, a bloodstained scarf clutched in one hand and the other holding one of Justin's shirts against his face so he could absorb the last traces of the boy's scent.
No, Debbie knew that Brian's absence from the funeral did not mean that he had never cared for Justin. She knew the truth - that a part of Brian had died with his young lover. She thought that his seeing that part of himself buried would probably have broken him completely.
What Debbie didn't know was that Melanie was wrong about Brian as well. He wasn't out getting his dick sucked. For once, he had forgone all of his usual methods of pain management. At first, he had tried to just deny the pain and push away the vision of Justin which haunted him - lying still and silent in the ICU bed, eyes closed as if in sleep, his head swathed in bandages and countless tubes and wires connected to him. He tried to remember Justin alive and smiling instead, but that conjured images of the prom - images which brought with them a fresh wave of grief and guilt.
Eventually the struggle became too much. He needed an escape from his demons, his pain, his memories. He snatched up his keys and bolted from the loft, fully intending to go and drink himself into oblivion. He drove on autopilot, lost in his thoughts, and when he came back to himself, he realized he was driving in the opposite direction of where he had intended to go, nearing Lindsay's neighborhood. After a split second of deliberation, he turned the jeep and drove the short distance to Linds' and Mel's house. He invited himself inside, paid and dismissed the sitter, and settled on the couch with his son in his lap, grateful both for the comforting warmth of the small body snuggled against his own and for the child's unerring ability to distract him from his thoughts.
Navigating on autopilot became a matter of course for Brian. He went through the motions at work, stianaganaging to be brilliant and dazzle his clients but taking no satisfaction from his work. He wandered through his social life like a zombie, sucking and fucking without ever really feeling anything. He even managed to fool his friends into thinking he was really alive and doing fairly well; luckily, to his way of thinking, Michael was in Portland and not there in Pittsburgh to see through Brian's charade. By the time that Michael's love affair with the good doctor ended and he came home to the Pitts, Brian had perfected his act and was able to fool even his oldest, closest friend into buying his bullshit lies about moving on with his life.
But then Michael always had been good at seeing what he wanted to see.
When Michael and Brian became practically inseparable, everyone thought that things were back to "normal" - back to the way they had been before Justin, before David, before the whole world tilted on its axis. By the time that anyone realized that things were far from normal, it was already too late.
Some thought his absence was the final proof that he had never really cared for Justin. Others took it as further evidence as his coldness. Jennifer Taylor, although secretly relieved that she didn't have to face Brian, remarked that the least Brian could have done after getting her son killed was make an appearance at the funeral. Melanie chimed in with her usual I-hate-Brian-Kinney ichor, saying that he was probably off somewhere getting his dick sucked. Debbie, for perhaps the first time in her life, kept her big mouth shut. But she knew that Brian had cared for Justin, and she was certain that if he was getting his dick sucked that it was only because he didn't know any other way to manage his pain.
Only Debbie and Michael had seen any of Brian's real reaction to Sunshine's death. They had both been at the hospital when the doctors said that Justin's vitals had crashed and they hadn't been able to resuscitate him, both heard his quiet, shaky voice asking if he could see Justin to say goodbye, both watched through the glass as Brian kissed Justin one last time and whispered a final 'later', both seen him shut down the second he stepped out of Justin's room afterward.
But even Michael hadn't seen the extent of Brian's grief. He hadn't been there when Brian had let himself into the Novotny house and, without a word to Debbie or Vic, climbed the stairs to Justin's room. It was Debbie, not Michael, who peered into Justin's room some time later to find Brian curled up in a little ball on Justin's bed, a bloodstained scarf clutched in one hand and the other holding one of Justin's shirts against his face so he could absorb the last traces of the boy's scent.
No, Debbie knew that Brian's absence from the funeral did not mean that he had never cared for Justin. She knew the truth - that a part of Brian had died with his young lover. She thought that his seeing that part of himself buried would probably have broken him completely.
What Debbie didn't know was that Melanie was wrong about Brian as well. He wasn't out getting his dick sucked. For once, he had forgone all of his usual methods of pain management. At first, he had tried to just deny the pain and push away the vision of Justin which haunted him - lying still and silent in the ICU bed, eyes closed as if in sleep, his head swathed in bandages and countless tubes and wires connected to him. He tried to remember Justin alive and smiling instead, but that conjured images of the prom - images which brought with them a fresh wave of grief and guilt.
Eventually the struggle became too much. He needed an escape from his demons, his pain, his memories. He snatched up his keys and bolted from the loft, fully intending to go and drink himself into oblivion. He drove on autopilot, lost in his thoughts, and when he came back to himself, he realized he was driving in the opposite direction of where he had intended to go, nearing Lindsay's neighborhood. After a split second of deliberation, he turned the jeep and drove the short distance to Linds' and Mel's house. He invited himself inside, paid and dismissed the sitter, and settled on the couch with his son in his lap, grateful both for the comforting warmth of the small body snuggled against his own and for the child's unerring ability to distract him from his thoughts.
Navigating on autopilot became a matter of course for Brian. He went through the motions at work, stianaganaging to be brilliant and dazzle his clients but taking no satisfaction from his work. He wandered through his social life like a zombie, sucking and fucking without ever really feeling anything. He even managed to fool his friends into thinking he was really alive and doing fairly well; luckily, to his way of thinking, Michael was in Portland and not there in Pittsburgh to see through Brian's charade. By the time that Michael's love affair with the good doctor ended and he came home to the Pitts, Brian had perfected his act and was able to fool even his oldest, closest friend into buying his bullshit lies about moving on with his life.
But then Michael always had been good at seeing what he wanted to see.
When Michael and Brian became practically inseparable, everyone thought that things were back to "normal" - back to the way they had been before Justin, before David, before the whole world tilted on its axis. By the time that anyone realized that things were far from normal, it was already too late.