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soulmatejunkeeTitle: 1 wedding, 4 rings and 1 almost funeral, Part 1/? (You & Me-Series)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soulmatejunkee
Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: Post 5.13; POV's
Word Count: 2.419
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. It’s all CowLip and Showtime.
Beta:adoringaudience - thanks so much! If you still find any mistakes, you can keep them... I don't want them anymore *gg*.
(I also want to thankkinnetikdreams for her beta-offer! And of course qafkinnetic for all the beta that is already done for this story!)
This is the next part of the series. I have plans for it, so far I have no idea how to put them into it! Things are going to change with that story, moving forward - finally! I hope you still enjoy it. As always: Every comment is welcome. I Love to read what you think. Thanks!
1. Listen to me
2. Trust me
3. Babylon Part 1 | Part 2
4. Find a way Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
5. ...remember what's missing?
6. The Party
7. Thanksgiving 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
8. 1 wedding, 4 rings and 1 almost funeral
Justin's POV
Back in New York, reality hit me pretty fast. I needed another job. Chuck gave me back my job at the coffee shop, but that wasn’t enough money to pay for the rent and to keep myself alive. There were also the proceeds of the Rage stuff and with the next issue coming up, we already had a lot of advance booking. Christmas was save.
I went to the galleries Sidney told me about. Big galleries. I never liked the big ones, it always felt impersonal to me. Too many paintings and arts. I had five addresses, I got rejected at the first four, but the owners were way nicer while doing it.
It was the same – no agent, no show and no sales, no offer. But I had luck at the fifth gallery. Ryan, the owner, was kinda like Sidney. A father figure. Way nicer than Nadya. Unfortunately, the payment wasn’t as good as it was at Nadya’s gallery. But it was better than nothing and I finally had a job.
I thought about Daphne’s idea and also about Brian’s words and I knew they were right, it was business, but I just felt uncomfortable with lying about my sales. What would it change? If no one was willing to buy my stuff now, why would that change when I offered my stuff in a gallery?
So I decided to go with Daphne’s idea. It was easier to lie on the internet than to lie straight into someone’s face. I marked two of my works as SOLD on my website.
And so life kept going on as it was before. I was working at the gallery and at the coffee shop and the Rage stuff was selling pretty good and no one cared about the „SOLD“, no one bought any of my paintings.
I called Brian every night and I was happy to hear that Gus was calling him pretty often lately. He enjoyed that, even though he didn’t really say it. He seemed more relaxed when we talked. Of course it still sucked, because we missed each other. For some reason it was less humiliating not being as successful as I wanted to be when I was with him instead of so many miles away from him.
„So, how’s your project going?“ he asked one night.
„Nothing new. It still sucks.“ It was depressing.
„It just takes time.“
„How long?“ It was also depressing to talk to someone who seemed to be successful with everything he’s doing – all the time. Every time he wanted something, he got it. And all I wanted was a chance and I felt like a coward for not being able to get it.
„Maybe you should go out, you know, relax a little.“
Maybe he was right, but I didn’t want to go out. I wasn’t in the mood for dancing, fucking, drugging… I just wanted to wallow in my self-pity. „I miss you.“
„You’re just frustrated.“
„Yes, I am“, I admitted. „But I still miss you.“
„Like you said, it’s just a few weeks until Christmas.“
He didn’t sound happy, but somehow I didn’t like it that we kinda switched roles. I wanted him to say that he was coming to New York the next weekend, because he was missing me, too. Christmas was still three weeks away which seemed to be an eternity right now.
„Brian.“
„Hm?“
„Just say, I miss you, too, okay? I don’t want any positive answers, I want to feel bad and sad and I want you to take pity on me. Right now.“
He laughed. „That won’t help you.“
What happened to my complicated boyfriend, who couldn’t barely breathe without me? I rolled my eyes when I heard the doorbell. Noelle was with her boyfriend for the night. „Fuck. Wait, there’s someone at the door.“
„Yeah, listen, I have to go anyway.“
Huh? We hadn’t even started the phone sex yet. „Mh… to where?“
I got up and put my boxers on. Other than for Brian I wasn’t willing to show up naked at the door.
„I have to meet someone.“
„Who?“ Okay, when exactly did I become the neurotic one? The doorbell was ringing again. I sighed. „I’m coming!“
„That’s a good thing“, he said. „Bye.“
Huh? „Brian…?“ He hung up on me. I stared at my cellphone. „What the fuck.“ The doorbell again. Whoever it was, I would kill him. I went to the door and opened it.
Brian's POV
It had been one week since Justin had left again. One week, seven days, 179 hours. I got three calls from my son that week, two new clients, four blow jobs at the Babylon backroom – one of them was pretty good, the rest just sucked -, seven coffees at the diner, three Thai food deliveries and seven calls from Justin.
„I’m coming!“ he yelled.
„That’s a good thing“, I said and nodded. „Bye.“ I just hung up. I never did that before and I knew he was really pissed, angry and probably disappointed, even though he should know that I would never do anything that wasn’t for his best. Okay, sometimes what I thought was for his best, wasn’t, but this time I was sure about it.
I pushed the button again and leaned against the doorframe when he opened the door. I looked at him and frowned. „What took you so long?“
„Asshole“, he answered, grabbed my tie and pulled me into the apartment. He kissed me – or I kissed him – and we fell against the closed door. He took off my jacket, removed my tie and started to unbutton my shirt. „Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming?“
I loved it when he was breathless. „It was a short-dated…“
„Whatever“, he interrupted and kissed me again. „I’m so glad you’re here.“
„Me too.“
We walked to his room, fell onto his bed, without losing body contact for a second. Just one week, it felt like forever. How could this happen? Every time I thought about it, I wondered how this would go on. What if he became successful? There wasn’t an „if“ in that anyway; one day he would be successful, he was meant to be. And the second he was, he would love to live here, he would start living. Success was like a drug, nobody knew that better than me. And when that happened, this would end, we would end.
„Don’t think“, he whispered while his fingertips were touching my lips. I didn’t even realize that we stopped kissing. „Just don’t…“
And he knew how to make me stop thinking at all. With my dick in his mouth my brain was totally out of order.
„How long can you stay?“ he asked after we fucked and sucked and kissed. His bed was pretty small.
„My flight is tomorrow morning.“
„Hm.“ He tried to smile. „So I’ll have you the entire night?“
„Where’s Nicole?“
„Noelle… is with her boyfriend.“ He shrugged. „They’re like bunnies, I’m glad they’re not here to fuck. It’s weird to listen to hetero sex… somehow… mh. It’s depressing.“
„I know what you mean“, I answered. „It’s disgusting.“
He slapped me and laughed. „I miss you.“
„You’re just frus…“
„Frustrated, I know. I am. Somehow I thought something would change when I come back. I don’t know. Nothing changed, I’m still a nobody, no one wants my art, no one cares. And yes, that is frustrating. I know that there are thousands of talented artists around here who want to have a chance and that I’m nothing special, but… really, why exactly am I here? It’s like you always said, in Pittsburgh I was someone, in New York I’m no one.“
I frowned. „When did I say that?“
„You once said it, not to me, but there was something or someone you said it to. Guess you’re happy now that you never moved to New York.“
Not really, why would I be? I always dreamed about New York, it’s the City, the big City, everyone wants to live here, especially when Pittsburgh is the other option. „Why?“
„You wouldn’t be happy here“, he said. „You love to be the best, the number one, and you are – in Pittsburgh. No one’s better than you. But here… you would be just one in a million. That wouldn’t make you happy.“
„Thanks.“ Fucker, I would rock New York!
„You know what I mean.“
I sighed. „You have to stop that. It’s one thing that you’re frustrated, but it’s another when you start to frustrate me. Get your ass up and start playing the game. It’s just New York, it’s just a city. You cannot expect it to give you something. The city doesn’t owe you anything, you have to take it. Always. People don’t wait for you, especially not when there are thousands of others knocking on their doors.“
„What am I supposed to do? Put my stuff on the street?“
„Why not?“ I asked. Of course I didn’t want him to become a street artist, but he had to start somewhere. „Or ask the guy you’re working for about contacts, you said he’s nice, so why not? Start doing advertising for your stuff, you have to sell it. I could help you.“ Right… me helping him was a no go, I forgot. I rolled my eyes. „Or I can give you names and numbers.“
He just looked at me and then looked down, as if he was ashamed. „I did advertising. I still do. It doesn’t help. I’m sorry.“
It happened, he started to give up, just as I expected. I have to admit New York didn’t treat him well, he was all alone and he was very ambitious, but so far nothing came out of it. It had been almost nine months so far, nine months for nothing and that was frustrating, I could understand that. But giving up was not an option, he would regret it, I knew that.
„Why do you treat New York so differently?“ I asked. I knew the risk that he would be pissed at me sooner or later was very big, but I had to do something, right?
„What do you mean?“
„You never gave up at home. They wanted to kick you out of school, you found another way, remember? There’s no difference. They don’t want to give you a chance, look out for another. There’s always a way.“
„What do you think I’m doing here every day?“
„Working and waiting“, I answered. I got him, he got angry, very angry. He practically jumped out of the bed.
„What do you know? You’re not here. This is the first time in months that you’re here! I have to work, otherwise I can’t live here! New York is expensive! That might be nothing special for someone who’s rich, but it’s a big problem for someone who doesn’t have tons of money!“
„Bullshit!“ I sat up. „I know that Rage is a success and that you get some money out of it and that it would be enough to pay for the rent. How much does this sinkhole cost? 200 Dollars? So you don’t have to work at the coffee shop, you’re just doing it to have an excuse!“
„350 Dollars“, he answered. „And it might surprise you but it doesn’ end with paying the rent! I have to eat something and, occasionally, I need some new art supplies! And if I ever want to have an agent, I need money to pay him, they don’t work for free! So I need to save as much money as possible!“
„Then let me help you! I could help you, you know that! There’s nothing wrong with accepting help when you need it!“
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Then he looked at me again. „Did you ask someone for help… ever?“
„That’s not the same“, I said.
„Why not? Because it’s you?“
„Justin…“, I closed my eyes and sighed. „I had 1390 at my SATs, my parents were poor enough for me to get a scholarship, I worked at three different advertising agencies during college and I was lucky that I got a job right after college. I lived at the campus and later I had a small apartment near Liberty Avenue where I lived for four years before I became successful with advertising and made enough money to buy the loft. And I would still live in that small shithole if I wouldn’t have knocked out the guy who was supposed to get the client that made me the new star of the agency. I never would’ve become a partner at Vanguard if I wouldn’t have…“ Okay, bad memory, bad example.
„Cancelled Vermont?“ he said.
I closed my eyes briefly and cleared my throat. „And I wouldn’t be successful right now if I wouldn’t have taken the risk. All I want to say is, it doesn’t happen when you’re not taking your chances.“
He shrugged. „Maybe I’m not as strong as you are.“
That was almost funny. „Bullshit!“
„Then what?“ He asked. „Tell me!“
„I don’t know, like you said, I’m not here! I just know that as long as you don’t do anything, nothing’s gonna happen! Start looking out for other options, don’t give up, don’t wait.“
He sat down on the bed again, his back to me and looked down. I knew he felt like a failure, as if he had done nothing right so far, as if it was all his fault. I knew that feeling. I moved a little closer to him.
„What if it was a mistake to come here?“ he asked. „Actually, I think it was very naive to think that one good review in a magazine would help me to become successful here. Maybe I should’ve tried to become more successful in Pittsburgh.“
„Maybe you should stop trying to be successful and start trying to start anything. Success comes with chances. There must be more than just painting.“
He turned around and looked at me as if I said something magical. Whatever it was, it brought back his ambition and his passion – for me. He practically jumped on me and kissed me.
„That’s why you’re the best“, he said and laughed while he hugged me. I still had no idea what I said that had completely changed his mood, but I was glad that I obviously found the right words. It was about time that he moved on. Even though it probably meant moving away from me.
TBC
Author:
soulmatejunkee Fandom: Queer as Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: Post 5.13; POV's
Word Count: 2.419
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. It’s all CowLip and Showtime.
Beta:
adoringaudience - thanks so much! If you still find any mistakes, you can keep them... I don't want them anymore *gg*.(I also want to thank
kinnetikdreams for her beta-offer! And of course qafkinnetic for all the beta that is already done for this story!)This is the next part of the series. I have plans for it, so far I have no idea how to put them into it! Things are going to change with that story, moving forward - finally! I hope you still enjoy it. As always: Every comment is welcome. I Love to read what you think. Thanks!
1. Listen to me
2. Trust me
3. Babylon Part 1 | Part 2
4. Find a way Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
5. ...remember what's missing?
6. The Party
7. Thanksgiving 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
8. 1 wedding, 4 rings and 1 almost funeral
Justin's POV
Back in New York, reality hit me pretty fast. I needed another job. Chuck gave me back my job at the coffee shop, but that wasn’t enough money to pay for the rent and to keep myself alive. There were also the proceeds of the Rage stuff and with the next issue coming up, we already had a lot of advance booking. Christmas was save.
I went to the galleries Sidney told me about. Big galleries. I never liked the big ones, it always felt impersonal to me. Too many paintings and arts. I had five addresses, I got rejected at the first four, but the owners were way nicer while doing it.
It was the same – no agent, no show and no sales, no offer. But I had luck at the fifth gallery. Ryan, the owner, was kinda like Sidney. A father figure. Way nicer than Nadya. Unfortunately, the payment wasn’t as good as it was at Nadya’s gallery. But it was better than nothing and I finally had a job.
I thought about Daphne’s idea and also about Brian’s words and I knew they were right, it was business, but I just felt uncomfortable with lying about my sales. What would it change? If no one was willing to buy my stuff now, why would that change when I offered my stuff in a gallery?
So I decided to go with Daphne’s idea. It was easier to lie on the internet than to lie straight into someone’s face. I marked two of my works as SOLD on my website.
And so life kept going on as it was before. I was working at the gallery and at the coffee shop and the Rage stuff was selling pretty good and no one cared about the „SOLD“, no one bought any of my paintings.
I called Brian every night and I was happy to hear that Gus was calling him pretty often lately. He enjoyed that, even though he didn’t really say it. He seemed more relaxed when we talked. Of course it still sucked, because we missed each other. For some reason it was less humiliating not being as successful as I wanted to be when I was with him instead of so many miles away from him.
„So, how’s your project going?“ he asked one night.
„Nothing new. It still sucks.“ It was depressing.
„It just takes time.“
„How long?“ It was also depressing to talk to someone who seemed to be successful with everything he’s doing – all the time. Every time he wanted something, he got it. And all I wanted was a chance and I felt like a coward for not being able to get it.
„Maybe you should go out, you know, relax a little.“
Maybe he was right, but I didn’t want to go out. I wasn’t in the mood for dancing, fucking, drugging… I just wanted to wallow in my self-pity. „I miss you.“
„You’re just frustrated.“
„Yes, I am“, I admitted. „But I still miss you.“
„Like you said, it’s just a few weeks until Christmas.“
He didn’t sound happy, but somehow I didn’t like it that we kinda switched roles. I wanted him to say that he was coming to New York the next weekend, because he was missing me, too. Christmas was still three weeks away which seemed to be an eternity right now.
„Brian.“
„Hm?“
„Just say, I miss you, too, okay? I don’t want any positive answers, I want to feel bad and sad and I want you to take pity on me. Right now.“
He laughed. „That won’t help you.“
What happened to my complicated boyfriend, who couldn’t barely breathe without me? I rolled my eyes when I heard the doorbell. Noelle was with her boyfriend for the night. „Fuck. Wait, there’s someone at the door.“
„Yeah, listen, I have to go anyway.“
Huh? We hadn’t even started the phone sex yet. „Mh… to where?“
I got up and put my boxers on. Other than for Brian I wasn’t willing to show up naked at the door.
„I have to meet someone.“
„Who?“ Okay, when exactly did I become the neurotic one? The doorbell was ringing again. I sighed. „I’m coming!“
„That’s a good thing“, he said. „Bye.“
Huh? „Brian…?“ He hung up on me. I stared at my cellphone. „What the fuck.“ The doorbell again. Whoever it was, I would kill him. I went to the door and opened it.
Brian's POV
It had been one week since Justin had left again. One week, seven days, 179 hours. I got three calls from my son that week, two new clients, four blow jobs at the Babylon backroom – one of them was pretty good, the rest just sucked -, seven coffees at the diner, three Thai food deliveries and seven calls from Justin.
„I’m coming!“ he yelled.
„That’s a good thing“, I said and nodded. „Bye.“ I just hung up. I never did that before and I knew he was really pissed, angry and probably disappointed, even though he should know that I would never do anything that wasn’t for his best. Okay, sometimes what I thought was for his best, wasn’t, but this time I was sure about it.
I pushed the button again and leaned against the doorframe when he opened the door. I looked at him and frowned. „What took you so long?“
„Asshole“, he answered, grabbed my tie and pulled me into the apartment. He kissed me – or I kissed him – and we fell against the closed door. He took off my jacket, removed my tie and started to unbutton my shirt. „Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming?“
I loved it when he was breathless. „It was a short-dated…“
„Whatever“, he interrupted and kissed me again. „I’m so glad you’re here.“
„Me too.“
We walked to his room, fell onto his bed, without losing body contact for a second. Just one week, it felt like forever. How could this happen? Every time I thought about it, I wondered how this would go on. What if he became successful? There wasn’t an „if“ in that anyway; one day he would be successful, he was meant to be. And the second he was, he would love to live here, he would start living. Success was like a drug, nobody knew that better than me. And when that happened, this would end, we would end.
„Don’t think“, he whispered while his fingertips were touching my lips. I didn’t even realize that we stopped kissing. „Just don’t…“
And he knew how to make me stop thinking at all. With my dick in his mouth my brain was totally out of order.
„How long can you stay?“ he asked after we fucked and sucked and kissed. His bed was pretty small.
„My flight is tomorrow morning.“
„Hm.“ He tried to smile. „So I’ll have you the entire night?“
„Where’s Nicole?“
„Noelle… is with her boyfriend.“ He shrugged. „They’re like bunnies, I’m glad they’re not here to fuck. It’s weird to listen to hetero sex… somehow… mh. It’s depressing.“
„I know what you mean“, I answered. „It’s disgusting.“
He slapped me and laughed. „I miss you.“
„You’re just frus…“
„Frustrated, I know. I am. Somehow I thought something would change when I come back. I don’t know. Nothing changed, I’m still a nobody, no one wants my art, no one cares. And yes, that is frustrating. I know that there are thousands of talented artists around here who want to have a chance and that I’m nothing special, but… really, why exactly am I here? It’s like you always said, in Pittsburgh I was someone, in New York I’m no one.“
I frowned. „When did I say that?“
„You once said it, not to me, but there was something or someone you said it to. Guess you’re happy now that you never moved to New York.“
Not really, why would I be? I always dreamed about New York, it’s the City, the big City, everyone wants to live here, especially when Pittsburgh is the other option. „Why?“
„You wouldn’t be happy here“, he said. „You love to be the best, the number one, and you are – in Pittsburgh. No one’s better than you. But here… you would be just one in a million. That wouldn’t make you happy.“
„Thanks.“ Fucker, I would rock New York!
„You know what I mean.“
I sighed. „You have to stop that. It’s one thing that you’re frustrated, but it’s another when you start to frustrate me. Get your ass up and start playing the game. It’s just New York, it’s just a city. You cannot expect it to give you something. The city doesn’t owe you anything, you have to take it. Always. People don’t wait for you, especially not when there are thousands of others knocking on their doors.“
„What am I supposed to do? Put my stuff on the street?“
„Why not?“ I asked. Of course I didn’t want him to become a street artist, but he had to start somewhere. „Or ask the guy you’re working for about contacts, you said he’s nice, so why not? Start doing advertising for your stuff, you have to sell it. I could help you.“ Right… me helping him was a no go, I forgot. I rolled my eyes. „Or I can give you names and numbers.“
He just looked at me and then looked down, as if he was ashamed. „I did advertising. I still do. It doesn’t help. I’m sorry.“
It happened, he started to give up, just as I expected. I have to admit New York didn’t treat him well, he was all alone and he was very ambitious, but so far nothing came out of it. It had been almost nine months so far, nine months for nothing and that was frustrating, I could understand that. But giving up was not an option, he would regret it, I knew that.
„Why do you treat New York so differently?“ I asked. I knew the risk that he would be pissed at me sooner or later was very big, but I had to do something, right?
„What do you mean?“
„You never gave up at home. They wanted to kick you out of school, you found another way, remember? There’s no difference. They don’t want to give you a chance, look out for another. There’s always a way.“
„What do you think I’m doing here every day?“
„Working and waiting“, I answered. I got him, he got angry, very angry. He practically jumped out of the bed.
„What do you know? You’re not here. This is the first time in months that you’re here! I have to work, otherwise I can’t live here! New York is expensive! That might be nothing special for someone who’s rich, but it’s a big problem for someone who doesn’t have tons of money!“
„Bullshit!“ I sat up. „I know that Rage is a success and that you get some money out of it and that it would be enough to pay for the rent. How much does this sinkhole cost? 200 Dollars? So you don’t have to work at the coffee shop, you’re just doing it to have an excuse!“
„350 Dollars“, he answered. „And it might surprise you but it doesn’ end with paying the rent! I have to eat something and, occasionally, I need some new art supplies! And if I ever want to have an agent, I need money to pay him, they don’t work for free! So I need to save as much money as possible!“
„Then let me help you! I could help you, you know that! There’s nothing wrong with accepting help when you need it!“
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Then he looked at me again. „Did you ask someone for help… ever?“
„That’s not the same“, I said.
„Why not? Because it’s you?“
„Justin…“, I closed my eyes and sighed. „I had 1390 at my SATs, my parents were poor enough for me to get a scholarship, I worked at three different advertising agencies during college and I was lucky that I got a job right after college. I lived at the campus and later I had a small apartment near Liberty Avenue where I lived for four years before I became successful with advertising and made enough money to buy the loft. And I would still live in that small shithole if I wouldn’t have knocked out the guy who was supposed to get the client that made me the new star of the agency. I never would’ve become a partner at Vanguard if I wouldn’t have…“ Okay, bad memory, bad example.
„Cancelled Vermont?“ he said.
I closed my eyes briefly and cleared my throat. „And I wouldn’t be successful right now if I wouldn’t have taken the risk. All I want to say is, it doesn’t happen when you’re not taking your chances.“
He shrugged. „Maybe I’m not as strong as you are.“
That was almost funny. „Bullshit!“
„Then what?“ He asked. „Tell me!“
„I don’t know, like you said, I’m not here! I just know that as long as you don’t do anything, nothing’s gonna happen! Start looking out for other options, don’t give up, don’t wait.“
He sat down on the bed again, his back to me and looked down. I knew he felt like a failure, as if he had done nothing right so far, as if it was all his fault. I knew that feeling. I moved a little closer to him.
„What if it was a mistake to come here?“ he asked. „Actually, I think it was very naive to think that one good review in a magazine would help me to become successful here. Maybe I should’ve tried to become more successful in Pittsburgh.“
„Maybe you should stop trying to be successful and start trying to start anything. Success comes with chances. There must be more than just painting.“
He turned around and looked at me as if I said something magical. Whatever it was, it brought back his ambition and his passion – for me. He practically jumped on me and kissed me.
„That’s why you’re the best“, he said and laughed while he hugged me. I still had no idea what I said that had completely changed his mood, but I was glad that I obviously found the right words. It was about time that he moved on. Even though it probably meant moving away from me.
TBC