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soulmatejunkeePrompt: Life after 30 - ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pam81's 30th Birthday Project
Title: Just like James Dean
Author:soulmatejunkee
Fandom: Queer As Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: Post 513
Wordcount: 802
Warnings: None
Beta: Many thanks tomander3_swish
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, it's all CowLips and Showtimes.
Author's Note: Happy Birthday, my sweet sweet Pammy! Enjoy this day, I wish you all the best!
The idea as well as the icon and the banner was made bygalehot
Brian's POV
I’ve never wanted to be old…never!
Most people have dreams about their life, of what his or her future could be. They want to meet someone special and fall in love, and they want to grow old with that special person. I never wanted to be like them. I never believed in that bullshit.
Love as I knew it sucked. I had no intention to ever give love a chance to suck anywhere near me!
I have always admired James Dean. He died when he was still young and beautiful and successful. That’s all people remember about him. He’s a hero, he’s perfect, and he’s eternal. He was my role model. He never wanted to die, but lived every day in a way that it didn’t matter if it was his last day or not. That was my plan.
When I became a teenager I realized that I had an effect on other people, girls and boys, and I learned how to use that power. I also realized that I did prefer boys over girls, pretty early on, and how much easier life was when you were young, beautiful, and successful.
Just like James Dean.
I had luck on my side when the genes were issued in my mother’s uterus: I am beautiful. Sure, I have to work for it. I go to the gym, I don’t eat carbs after 7 PM, and I always eat low-fat. It all works. I’m always in shape, I have a beautiful face, and thank god to the genes I inherited my mother, as I have a full head of hair.
When I turned 24 my life started to explode in every way I had always dreamed of! Everything seemed to work out perfectly: I became successful, I got money, I bought a really expensive loft, and I was able to furnish it with even more expensive stuff. Designer clothes were now my trademark. I was perfect.
Just like James Dean.
I enjoyed my life, every day, every night, and I never thought about the consequences. What for? My only responsibility was to myself. I went out clubbing every night, I fucked hundreds of men, and it was pretty easy for me to find admirers. I used them; I took every little piece of admiration they were willing to give and built my ego with it. I was someone, I was beautiful, I was perfect, and every gay guy on Liberty Avenue knew me and wanted to be with me. I didn’t care about any of them. I just used them or their asses for my joy.
I practically did the same thing with Michael. I never fucked him, but I knew he wanted me to. He adored me, he loved me, he wanted to be with me, and he waited for me. I knew that and I used it to keep him close, to take everything I could have without loosing him. I loved him… since we were 14 he was the only person I truly loved, but other than him I never fell in love.
Just like James Dean I had no plan to end my life … I had always lived at the limit and was willing to take whatever might come up. If it was my death… so it will be.
But I was not like James Dean… because he probably never thought about dying so young. He probably wanted to grow old. He probably wanted to find someone special. Maybe he didn’t give a shit about being beautiful and perfect. And maybe – at the moment of death – he thought about someone else, someone he didn’t want to leave, someone he knew would miss him and would cry about the loss.
The moment I started to realize how it feels when you might lose someone you really care about – more than you ever wanted to - was also the moment I realized that I do really care about someone, that I was falling in love. It was the day after my 30th birthday.
Well, my 30s weren’t easy.
I fell in love – and love sucked for me, too.
I lived in a relationship.
I was a partner.
I established my own company.
I survived cancer.
I bought a nightclub.
I proposed.
I bought a house.
I bought rings.
I canceled the wedding.
I sold the house.
I kept the rings.
I waited…
Turning 30 and surviving it… that was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Today I’m 40, I’m still alive, and fuck yeah, I’m still beautiful. I’m also with someone special and it seems that we will grow old together. Maybe that’s what James Dean had always wanted, too… and maybe I really am just like him. Except that I had the luck to reach and survive the 30's.
pam81's 30th Birthday ProjectTitle: Just like James Dean
Author:
soulmatejunkeeFandom: Queer As Folk US
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Timeline: Post 513
Wordcount: 802
Warnings: None
Beta: Many thanks to
mander3_swishDisclaimer: I don't own anything, it's all CowLips and Showtimes.
Author's Note: Happy Birthday, my sweet sweet Pammy! Enjoy this day, I wish you all the best!
The idea as well as the icon and the banner was made by
galehotBrian's POV
I’ve never wanted to be old…never!
Most people have dreams about their life, of what his or her future could be. They want to meet someone special and fall in love, and they want to grow old with that special person. I never wanted to be like them. I never believed in that bullshit.
Love as I knew it sucked. I had no intention to ever give love a chance to suck anywhere near me!
I have always admired James Dean. He died when he was still young and beautiful and successful. That’s all people remember about him. He’s a hero, he’s perfect, and he’s eternal. He was my role model. He never wanted to die, but lived every day in a way that it didn’t matter if it was his last day or not. That was my plan.
When I became a teenager I realized that I had an effect on other people, girls and boys, and I learned how to use that power. I also realized that I did prefer boys over girls, pretty early on, and how much easier life was when you were young, beautiful, and successful.
Just like James Dean.
I had luck on my side when the genes were issued in my mother’s uterus: I am beautiful. Sure, I have to work for it. I go to the gym, I don’t eat carbs after 7 PM, and I always eat low-fat. It all works. I’m always in shape, I have a beautiful face, and thank god to the genes I inherited my mother, as I have a full head of hair.
When I turned 24 my life started to explode in every way I had always dreamed of! Everything seemed to work out perfectly: I became successful, I got money, I bought a really expensive loft, and I was able to furnish it with even more expensive stuff. Designer clothes were now my trademark. I was perfect.
Just like James Dean.
I enjoyed my life, every day, every night, and I never thought about the consequences. What for? My only responsibility was to myself. I went out clubbing every night, I fucked hundreds of men, and it was pretty easy for me to find admirers. I used them; I took every little piece of admiration they were willing to give and built my ego with it. I was someone, I was beautiful, I was perfect, and every gay guy on Liberty Avenue knew me and wanted to be with me. I didn’t care about any of them. I just used them or their asses for my joy.
I practically did the same thing with Michael. I never fucked him, but I knew he wanted me to. He adored me, he loved me, he wanted to be with me, and he waited for me. I knew that and I used it to keep him close, to take everything I could have without loosing him. I loved him… since we were 14 he was the only person I truly loved, but other than him I never fell in love.
Just like James Dean I had no plan to end my life … I had always lived at the limit and was willing to take whatever might come up. If it was my death… so it will be.
But I was not like James Dean… because he probably never thought about dying so young. He probably wanted to grow old. He probably wanted to find someone special. Maybe he didn’t give a shit about being beautiful and perfect. And maybe – at the moment of death – he thought about someone else, someone he didn’t want to leave, someone he knew would miss him and would cry about the loss.
The moment I started to realize how it feels when you might lose someone you really care about – more than you ever wanted to - was also the moment I realized that I do really care about someone, that I was falling in love. It was the day after my 30th birthday.
Well, my 30s weren’t easy.
I fell in love – and love sucked for me, too.
I lived in a relationship.
I was a partner.
I established my own company.
I survived cancer.
I bought a nightclub.
I proposed.
I bought a house.
I bought rings.
I canceled the wedding.
I sold the house.
I kept the rings.
I waited…
Turning 30 and surviving it… that was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Today I’m 40, I’m still alive, and fuck yeah, I’m still beautiful. I’m also with someone special and it seems that we will grow old together. Maybe that’s what James Dean had always wanted, too… and maybe I really am just like him. Except that I had the luck to reach and survive the 30's.
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no subject
on 2011-04-23 10:44 pm (UTC)What a wonderful ficlet, Happy Easter babe,,Love ya jx
no subject
on 2011-04-24 09:48 am (UTC)Happy Easter to you too!