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soulmatejunkee) wrote2010-04-17 11:53 pm
soulmatejunkee) wrote2010-04-17 11:53 pm
Entry tags:
Just another dream?
Title: Just another dream – Chapter 1/2
Author: soulmatejunkee
Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin (Brian’s POV)
Timeline: Between episode 3.08 and 3.09
Rating: R
Word Count: 1.915 for this chapter.
Summary: I know he still wants to hear it and I know he’s still waiting for something. A little word, a little promise, a little gift, a little sign... While he was gone I thought about it. What if I would have given him all of it?
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. It’s all CowLip and Showtime.
A/N: This ist my first B/J story. I’m a german girl… so my english is NOT perfect. Please don’t be so strict when you read it. All mistakes are mine, no beta.
Perfect, it was perfect. And I felt... just perfect. Nothing was missing, no questions anymore, no weirdness... just perfect. It wasn’t what I expected, maybe it was what I was hoping for and yes, waiting for, because lets face it, I needed it, it’s like breathing. It’s way more than it was ever suppose to be. Something I can’t control anymore... I tried, but I failed. I have no idea how this happened and why it happened, but it did. And it was perfect.
I will never ask him what had happen, I don’t want to think about the possibility that under other circumstances he wouldn’t be here right now, because he would be with him. With the one who told him he loved him and wanted to be with him and only him. The one who gave him a damn ring and thousands of promises. Well, the ring is gone now and so are the promises. Right now, I don’t know why, but I know, he failed, too.
I know he still wants to hear it and I know he’s still waiting for something. A little word, a little promise, a little gift, a little sign... While he was gone I thought about it. What if I would have given him all of it?
What if I would have told him that I was scared to death when he got bashed and all I could do was waiting and – I will never ever admit that loudly – praying?
What if I would have told him that I was at the hospital every fucking night, waiting and – hell, yes – praying?
What if I would have told him that when he said „I want you inside me“ my heart beated so fast that I was afraid I wouldn’t live long enough anymore to end up inside him, because I was afraid to hurt him, afraid he still wasn’t able to do it?
What if I would have told him that I couldn’t fall asleep without him beside me anymore?
What if I would have celebrate his birthday with him the way he wanted me to, just the two of us?
What if I would have told him that I have missed him when he went to Vermont instead of just fucking him?
What if I would have let him have his little – romantic - picnic on the floor?
What if it wouldn’t scare me to death that I need him and want him and... love him?
They don’t understand why I won’t say it. They think I deny it, they think I won’t see it, feel it. They don’t know anything. They love him and want him to be happy and they told me that it was only a matter of time before he left and that he finally found someone who appreciates him.
They don’t know about the nights I spent at the hospital floor.
They don’t know about the nights I spent sleepless just to hold him after another nightmare.
They don’t know about that blond callboy who might have looked like him, but didn’t feel like him, didn’t smell like him... just wasn’t him.
They don’t know about all the tricks who were suppose to be him.
They don’t know about the endless nights I was waiting for something, a call, a sign, just something... just him.
All they can see is the tricking, the drinking, the drugging... the denying. It’s all I show them.
I don’t deny it. I know what I want and what I feel. I might not always see the consequences coming, I might not always expect them to be so hard to handle – okay, I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I know what I feel – god damn, I am the one who feels it! Every morning, every day, every night, with or without him.
They say it’s only an „I love you“ – only, it’s not only, it’s everything. Well, it’s suppose to be everything. Sometimes it’s just like a needle that hurt you, because you know it means nothing. It sounds cold and heartless, like somthing you don’t care about. And it makes you feel lonely, unloveable, needless. So you don’t want to hear it, you don’t believe it, it doesn’t mean what it’s suppose to mean.
Sometimes it’s just an excuse, an apology. Worked always with Michael. Always have, always will – and he forgives me everything. It’s not that I am lying, I do love him, I always have and I always will. But I can use that fact as an apology.
Once said, you can’t take it back anymore, you have to take the responsibility for saying it, you have to take the pity, the pain, the rejection. You can’t say „I love you“ and then expect nothing to change. Not when I love you is suppose to say „I am in love with you, I want to be with you“.
I agree with them when they say, he deserves better than me. But why do they blame me for that? I never asked him to stay or to come back – well, not when I was awake. In dreamy-dreamy-land I did, it’s easier there. You get what you want, always. It's honest, it's efficient. You get in and out with the maximum of pleasure, and minimum of bullshit. It’s like fucking.
For some reason he always disagreed.
He stayed and he came back – and now he came back again and I wasn’t just dreaming. It was real. He came back, started to play a little game. He played really good, but then he failed and that’s the reason I know he’s still waiting for it, hoping for it. When he told me what he wanted me to do, what he expected me to do – and what I didn’t do. Actually, he made it pretty clear, that he wouldn’t have left me, if I would have done any of my what-if’s.
And I guess I made it pretty clear that if he wants something, he has to stand up for himself – fight for it, do it, work on it... see through it. It was one of those moments I lost control. I lose control very often when he’s around, it’s always hard work to keep it, especially when he really tries to take it over. He didn’t in that moment, he just said „You would have told me that you loved me.“ And then he said, „But as usual you never did. So it’s just as well that I go.“ As if I‘ve never said it. He couldn’t hear it anymore. And that was just because he somehow lost the focus... but there must have been a reason for him to start his game, so something changed. And if he expected me to say it... he must know it, right?
Then I lost control. He wanted to leave – again. And I wouldn’t say what he was waiting to hear – again. I remember the one second when I looked into his eyes, watched him taking his bag and walking away. I already heard the door, I already figured myself alone in that damn office. And then I gripped him, pushed him back, right in front of me and provoked him, „Have some balls“. He just stood there, looked at me. And all I could think was, that I really shouldn’t speak that much, because what I said was bullshit. If half of the gay-community would have his balls, there wouldn’t be the goof-and-loser-center, also called the GLC.
He kissed me. Hard. Intense. So good. His lips, the taste, the smell... I was lost, I knew it. If he really played the game to get me back, to start over, to be with me again – he would win. I didn’t had a chance to take it over, to take control. He could have had me in that moment if he wanted to... but he was angry. Right there all he wanted was to prove that he had some balls. He was totally in control. Fuck!
But he kept playing his game. He came back – again. He said he knows what he can expect from me. So, he knows what he can’t expect. He’s still waiting for it, hoping for it, but not expecting it anymore. Is he finally able to see it without hearing the words? Or did he just gave up on it? And what would I prefer him to do? Maybe both.
Every night I fell asleep all alone and every morning I woke up without him I wished I had handled it – him – differently. Sometimes I wished I‘ve never met him, but it was impossible to live that wish. He was everywhere. In the bed, the bathroom, the shower, the kitchen. On the couch, the chair, the table. So I did what every dumped failure did after he realized he made a big mistake – I wished that I would have done things differently. I hoped for a second chance.
There I was, tired. It was late, very late. I could hear the cars on the street, I felt the duvet on my naked body and I knew he was here, right beside me, under the duvet. I knew when I would reach out to touch him, he was there. He was ... not there. I turned around, my eyes were open now, I was awake and my heart beated to hard and so fast, it almost hurt. It was dark. The streetlights and the moonlight was all that brightened up my loft. The bed beside me was empty. I swallowed.
He was here, I knew he was, he came here with me, right from the office, right after we fucked and kissed and came on my desk. He smiled at me, he was happy, he cuddled against me, he kissed me, we fucked again... right here, in this bed. He was here... wasn’t he? It was real, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just another visit in dreamy-dreamy-land, where everything always ended up the way I wanted it to be. He was here... with me. He was... it was him.
I swallowed again and sat up and looked around. No condom on the floor, nothing. But we used a condom, I always use condoms and I fucked him, I knew I did. He was here. Fuck!
Did he left?
Was it just a dream?
Why would he leave?
It must have been real, I could feel it, I remembered every detail.
Where did he go?
I remembered his hair, longer than the last time we fucked and so beautiful, so soft.
Was he thinking about him?
I remembered his eyes, the look, the desire.
Did he miss him?
I remembered his lips, he kissed me, my lips, my neck, my chest.
Did he left because of him - again?
I remembered „He loves me. He says he only wants to be with me. That is more than you ever said.“
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It still felt real. I looked beside me again, the bed was still empty. There was still no condom on the floor and also no clothes. Just me in an empty bed, in a dark loft, in the middle of the night – it was just a fucking dream, again.
I shook my head and sighed. Fuck! Fuck the dreams, fuck the desire, fuck the regrets. I don’t do regrets. Fuck him for being everywhere, all the time! „Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!“
TBC
Author: soulmatejunkee
Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin (Brian’s POV)
Timeline: Between episode 3.08 and 3.09
Rating: R
Word Count: 1.915 for this chapter.
Summary: I know he still wants to hear it and I know he’s still waiting for something. A little word, a little promise, a little gift, a little sign... While he was gone I thought about it. What if I would have given him all of it?
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. It’s all CowLip and Showtime.
A/N: This ist my first B/J story. I’m a german girl… so my english is NOT perfect. Please don’t be so strict when you read it. All mistakes are mine, no beta.
Perfect, it was perfect. And I felt... just perfect. Nothing was missing, no questions anymore, no weirdness... just perfect. It wasn’t what I expected, maybe it was what I was hoping for and yes, waiting for, because lets face it, I needed it, it’s like breathing. It’s way more than it was ever suppose to be. Something I can’t control anymore... I tried, but I failed. I have no idea how this happened and why it happened, but it did. And it was perfect.
I will never ask him what had happen, I don’t want to think about the possibility that under other circumstances he wouldn’t be here right now, because he would be with him. With the one who told him he loved him and wanted to be with him and only him. The one who gave him a damn ring and thousands of promises. Well, the ring is gone now and so are the promises. Right now, I don’t know why, but I know, he failed, too.
I know he still wants to hear it and I know he’s still waiting for something. A little word, a little promise, a little gift, a little sign... While he was gone I thought about it. What if I would have given him all of it?
What if I would have told him that I was scared to death when he got bashed and all I could do was waiting and – I will never ever admit that loudly – praying?
What if I would have told him that I was at the hospital every fucking night, waiting and – hell, yes – praying?
What if I would have told him that when he said „I want you inside me“ my heart beated so fast that I was afraid I wouldn’t live long enough anymore to end up inside him, because I was afraid to hurt him, afraid he still wasn’t able to do it?
What if I would have told him that I couldn’t fall asleep without him beside me anymore?
What if I would have celebrate his birthday with him the way he wanted me to, just the two of us?
What if I would have told him that I have missed him when he went to Vermont instead of just fucking him?
What if I would have let him have his little – romantic - picnic on the floor?
What if it wouldn’t scare me to death that I need him and want him and... love him?
They don’t understand why I won’t say it. They think I deny it, they think I won’t see it, feel it. They don’t know anything. They love him and want him to be happy and they told me that it was only a matter of time before he left and that he finally found someone who appreciates him.
They don’t know about the nights I spent at the hospital floor.
They don’t know about the nights I spent sleepless just to hold him after another nightmare.
They don’t know about that blond callboy who might have looked like him, but didn’t feel like him, didn’t smell like him... just wasn’t him.
They don’t know about all the tricks who were suppose to be him.
They don’t know about the endless nights I was waiting for something, a call, a sign, just something... just him.
All they can see is the tricking, the drinking, the drugging... the denying. It’s all I show them.
I don’t deny it. I know what I want and what I feel. I might not always see the consequences coming, I might not always expect them to be so hard to handle – okay, I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I know what I feel – god damn, I am the one who feels it! Every morning, every day, every night, with or without him.
They say it’s only an „I love you“ – only, it’s not only, it’s everything. Well, it’s suppose to be everything. Sometimes it’s just like a needle that hurt you, because you know it means nothing. It sounds cold and heartless, like somthing you don’t care about. And it makes you feel lonely, unloveable, needless. So you don’t want to hear it, you don’t believe it, it doesn’t mean what it’s suppose to mean.
Sometimes it’s just an excuse, an apology. Worked always with Michael. Always have, always will – and he forgives me everything. It’s not that I am lying, I do love him, I always have and I always will. But I can use that fact as an apology.
Once said, you can’t take it back anymore, you have to take the responsibility for saying it, you have to take the pity, the pain, the rejection. You can’t say „I love you“ and then expect nothing to change. Not when I love you is suppose to say „I am in love with you, I want to be with you“.
I agree with them when they say, he deserves better than me. But why do they blame me for that? I never asked him to stay or to come back – well, not when I was awake. In dreamy-dreamy-land I did, it’s easier there. You get what you want, always. It's honest, it's efficient. You get in and out with the maximum of pleasure, and minimum of bullshit. It’s like fucking.
For some reason he always disagreed.
He stayed and he came back – and now he came back again and I wasn’t just dreaming. It was real. He came back, started to play a little game. He played really good, but then he failed and that’s the reason I know he’s still waiting for it, hoping for it. When he told me what he wanted me to do, what he expected me to do – and what I didn’t do. Actually, he made it pretty clear, that he wouldn’t have left me, if I would have done any of my what-if’s.
And I guess I made it pretty clear that if he wants something, he has to stand up for himself – fight for it, do it, work on it... see through it. It was one of those moments I lost control. I lose control very often when he’s around, it’s always hard work to keep it, especially when he really tries to take it over. He didn’t in that moment, he just said „You would have told me that you loved me.“ And then he said, „But as usual you never did. So it’s just as well that I go.“ As if I‘ve never said it. He couldn’t hear it anymore. And that was just because he somehow lost the focus... but there must have been a reason for him to start his game, so something changed. And if he expected me to say it... he must know it, right?
Then I lost control. He wanted to leave – again. And I wouldn’t say what he was waiting to hear – again. I remember the one second when I looked into his eyes, watched him taking his bag and walking away. I already heard the door, I already figured myself alone in that damn office. And then I gripped him, pushed him back, right in front of me and provoked him, „Have some balls“. He just stood there, looked at me. And all I could think was, that I really shouldn’t speak that much, because what I said was bullshit. If half of the gay-community would have his balls, there wouldn’t be the goof-and-loser-center, also called the GLC.
He kissed me. Hard. Intense. So good. His lips, the taste, the smell... I was lost, I knew it. If he really played the game to get me back, to start over, to be with me again – he would win. I didn’t had a chance to take it over, to take control. He could have had me in that moment if he wanted to... but he was angry. Right there all he wanted was to prove that he had some balls. He was totally in control. Fuck!
But he kept playing his game. He came back – again. He said he knows what he can expect from me. So, he knows what he can’t expect. He’s still waiting for it, hoping for it, but not expecting it anymore. Is he finally able to see it without hearing the words? Or did he just gave up on it? And what would I prefer him to do? Maybe both.
Every night I fell asleep all alone and every morning I woke up without him I wished I had handled it – him – differently. Sometimes I wished I‘ve never met him, but it was impossible to live that wish. He was everywhere. In the bed, the bathroom, the shower, the kitchen. On the couch, the chair, the table. So I did what every dumped failure did after he realized he made a big mistake – I wished that I would have done things differently. I hoped for a second chance.
There I was, tired. It was late, very late. I could hear the cars on the street, I felt the duvet on my naked body and I knew he was here, right beside me, under the duvet. I knew when I would reach out to touch him, he was there. He was ... not there. I turned around, my eyes were open now, I was awake and my heart beated to hard and so fast, it almost hurt. It was dark. The streetlights and the moonlight was all that brightened up my loft. The bed beside me was empty. I swallowed.
He was here, I knew he was, he came here with me, right from the office, right after we fucked and kissed and came on my desk. He smiled at me, he was happy, he cuddled against me, he kissed me, we fucked again... right here, in this bed. He was here... wasn’t he? It was real, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just another visit in dreamy-dreamy-land, where everything always ended up the way I wanted it to be. He was here... with me. He was... it was him.
I swallowed again and sat up and looked around. No condom on the floor, nothing. But we used a condom, I always use condoms and I fucked him, I knew I did. He was here. Fuck!
Did he left?
Was it just a dream?
Why would he leave?
It must have been real, I could feel it, I remembered every detail.
Where did he go?
I remembered his hair, longer than the last time we fucked and so beautiful, so soft.
Was he thinking about him?
I remembered his eyes, the look, the desire.
Did he miss him?
I remembered his lips, he kissed me, my lips, my neck, my chest.
Did he left because of him - again?
I remembered „He loves me. He says he only wants to be with me. That is more than you ever said.“
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It still felt real. I looked beside me again, the bed was still empty. There was still no condom on the floor and also no clothes. Just me in an empty bed, in a dark loft, in the middle of the night – it was just a fucking dream, again.
I shook my head and sighed. Fuck! Fuck the dreams, fuck the desire, fuck the regrets. I don’t do regrets. Fuck him for being everywhere, all the time! „Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!“
TBC