More Important - Repost
More Important This was written for the Small Things Made Large Amnesty Challenge at qaf_challenges.
It was inspired by the drabble I wrote for the first part of the challenge.
Special thanks to noteverything for helping me shake this story loose from my brain! And thanks to my beta _alicesprings, you're the best!
I'm supposed to be on my way to the airport.
But when the car pulled up in front of the loft I told the driver to take me to Babylon. I made the decision somewhere between my front door and the car and I was careful not to give myself a moment to second guess it. On the drive over I thought idly about the flight I was about to miss and not about what the fuck I was going to do once I got to Babylon.
Fuck Australia. There is something more important that I have to do here.
I see him right away when I walk in. I don't pause or even breathe until I'm standing right in front of him.
His face immediately gives away how surprised, and maybe even how happy he is to see me.
My instinct is to pull him close, to kiss him. Only, I know that won't work, not now, not after everything. But I didn't think this through and I've got nothing to go on but instinct.
I step in close, completely uncertain for the first time in a long time of what he will do. He looks about as uncertain as I feel and I'm suddenly aware that we have the attention of everyone around us.
I lean in close and speak into his ear.
"Can we have a drink?"
He pulls back a little.
"Don't you have a plane to catch?"
"I don't care about that."
His eyes narrow, but I can't tell what he's thinking anymore.
"I'll go get us something, meet me in my office?"
He pauses, probably trying to decide if this is a good idea, so I go in for the kill.
He looks me in the eye, just for a second.
I make my way to the bar and try not to think about how much I want to fuck him in my office. I'm still a long way away from that.
Mikey's at the bar and I want to sling my arm over his shoulder and pull him close, but I can only handle fixing one fucked up relationship at a time, so I wave for the bartender’s attention instead.
We've been here for hours and I'm not sure how much more I can take. My mind keeps going to this weird place where I picture Michael and Brian sitting here waiting for me to wake up, some kind of fucked up full circle bullshit and it feels all wrong to think about. But it's better than picturing Brian's face when they were wheeling him away from the ambulance, away from me, and into the hospital.
I hardly have a scratch on me. I was halfway to Brian's office when it happened and maybe I should be thankful for that, but instead I just feel angry. Angry that he was there at all when he was supposed to be on a plane heading half way around the world.
Instead he was at Babylon, and for what, for me?
And then there is the irony of Brian and Michael together, hardly speaking and yet somehow still inseparable... even like this.
It's three days before he wakes up, seven days before he can keep his eyes open for more than a few minutes at a time and twelve days before they let him go home. He lets me drive him and help him up the stairs without as much as a word of complaint. And he doesn't say anything when I crawl into bed with him.
I shouldn't be here, not like this. Everything has changed, again, but I shouldn't just fall into being with him because that isn't fair to either of us.
Only I love him. More than I've ever loved him, which is a whole fucking lot. And I can't make myself move away from him, not now. And I wonder if that feeling will ever go away.
For three days I didn't know if he would live or die. When he woke up on day three I realized what a vindictive fucker he is. Payback really is a bitch.
It was just one more reason to fume, because sitting by his hospital bed plotting ways to torture him for being such an asshole is a whole lot easier than trying to figure out what the fuck he was doing at Babylon in the first place. Figuring out what he had to say that was so fucking important.
Justin’s taking care of me. And I'm doing what I've always done, biding my time.
He's here with me and we're just being us, but this time I know it can't last, not like this, not like it always was. The shock of the bomb, the fear of losing me, will wear off. We both know it and we fuck like we're trying to forget it.
My fingers slide along his crack to his hole. He's slippery with lube and I let two of my fingers move inside. He feels so good pressed up against me. We're both hot and slick with sweat and his come. My fingers move deeper and his body arches into my body, his skin slides over mine as he ruts against me.
His mouth hangs open and I think about kissing him, but I really just want to watch him. I use my free hand to smooth his hair out of his face and I thrust a little harder with my other hand.
His body shakes hard against mine, his come making us wetter, messier than before. He doesn't move away and neither do I.
"Lindsay showed me the Art Forum article."
His face is pressed against my chest.
"What do you think?"
"I think you should go to New York."
He looks up, not surprised, just sad, because he knows I'm right.
He sits up, gives himself the space he needs for this.
"Brian, why did you come to Babylon?"
I take a deep breath.
"To tell you I love you."
"This is so fucked up. You love me but you want me to go to New York."
"I love you, but saying it, telling you to get you back... it was bullshit. You're good Justin. You're a better artist than I'll ever be at anything I do. I want that for you."
"What do you want for yourself?"
"I was thinking of a small New York office. I'd still have to be here a lot, but I already have several clients based out of New York..."
It's true, and it's what I've been thinking about the last few days since I saw the article. Hell, I've wanted to be move to New York for as long as I can remember.
But that isn't what he means, it isn't what he needs and fucking deserves to hear. It isn't the whole truth.
"What I want... what I really want is for us to have a future."