"Midnight Clear" 24
Christmas cards.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, December 2005
After hearing Brian's horror story about Christmas Past, Justin decided not to press the issue of the Christmas tree.
He knew that the more he outwardly pushed Brian, the more his lover would dig in his heels and refuse to budge. Justin didn't want to turn the loft into a battleground, or their relationship into a constant struggle, so he retreated for the time being.
But Justin hadn't given up the idea of the Christmas decorations, or of making Brian see the value of the holiday, but he knew that he needed to take a different tactic. He'd make Brian see what the season had to offer. Make things cheerful. Make Brian happy. And if he was happy, then he'd be more likely to give, at least a little. Maybe he'd let Justin put up the white party lights. Put out some pine-scented candles. Maybe even hang their Christmas cards on a length velvet ribbon in the living room. Baby steps. That was the way to do it with Brian Kinney. And by next year, Justin was certain, they'd have a tree. It might be a small one, but even that would be a victory. And Justin wouldn't settle for anything less than a victory. Eventually!
A few days after the excursion to the mall, Justin brought home a box of Christmas cards. It was a small box -- only 12 cards -- and the scene portrayed wasn't overtly Christmasy -- a classy black and white photograph of some snow-covered birch trees -- so Justin thought it was perfect.
That evening, while Brian sat at the computer and messaged back and forth with Tony Conway, Justin worked on one of the drawings for his Life Studio portfolio. It was due at the end of week. And after that the semester was over. Justin felt a pang. He'd enjoyed taking that studio more than any of the classes he'd taken in four years at Dartmouth. Sometimes he picked up the catalog and looked at the class offerings for the spring semester at Carnegie Mellon. There were so many classes he wanted to take. Painting. Graphics. Multi-media. Animation. So many choices! So many possibilities!
He put the drawing aside.
Brian was frowning and tapping away at his keyboard. He'd been working every day, spending hours on the computer and phone, working out details for the series of holiday events to be held at the Maxim in San Francisco. Justin could tell he was frustrated by trying to work from so far away. Occasionally they took a break, going out to Babylon for a couple of hours to dance and toss back a few shots. Or they met the boys at Woody's for Happy Hour. But Brian always seemed preoccupied, like his mind was a thousand miles away. In San Francisco, specifically.
"I don't want to fuck this up," he told Justin as they lay in bed one night. "This feels like my last chance. I have to do it right."
Justin shook his head. "This is far from your last chance, Brian! That whole thing with Gardner Vance was just a slight hitch in your otherwise glorious career. Once you get back on track, you'll be invincible, as always!"
"You're a charming little liar," Brian sighed. But he pulled Justin closer. "What did I ever do without you?"
Justin laughed. "You fucked and drank and snorted and got yourself into trouble. The same as you do now!"
"No," said Brian. "Not the same as now. Because back then, when I finally finished fucking and drinking and snorting and getting into trouble, I came home and I was alone. That's the difference."
And Justin had hugged his lover tightly, thinking of the cold Christmas Eve when they met. Thinking how strong and haughty and arrogant Brian appeared to others. And how vulnerable he often was in the dark of night, when the demons that plagued him could no longer be fended off.
Justin thought about that again as he took out the Christmas cards and began quietly addressing the envelopes. What he really wanted to do was create his own cards. Take a cool photograph and work with it on the computer. Or make a line drawing with ink, starkly black and white, of a winter scene. Or maybe a watercolor. He'd use that as their own personalized Christmas card. A Justin Taylor original. Even Brian wouldn't balk at that. He'd be proud of the work Justin put into it. He was always proud of Justin's work. He'd even heard Brian bragging one evening when they were all drinking at Babylon -- he thought Justin was still in the men's room -- telling Michael that the lad was a genius and if he were running his own agency he'd hire him in a heartbeat. "Except he'd be running the place before I knew it!" he'd added.
"Yeah, sure!" Michael snarked. "That twink running your business!"
"We could run it together," Brian tossed off. Then he dropped the subject.
But Justin kept thinking about what Brian had said.
It could happen. It could work. Brian could use his vast expertise in advertising, while Justin could bring his artistic sensibility. Together they would be amazing! And they wouldn't have to leave Pittsburgh and go to a strange city. Because as much as Justin had dreamed of San Francisco, that Gay Mecca by the Bay, he didn't really want to leave his hometown behind. And all their friends, especially Michael and Ben. Em and Ted. Deb and Carl. His mom and Molly. Daphne. Even bratty Hunter. They might struggle for a while with a new agency, but they'd been struggling ever since Brian's suspension back in August. If they worked together it would be all right. Better than all right! They'd be a massive success!
And they'd be partners. In every way.
That gave Justin a feeling in his stomach like he was at the top of a roller coaster, ready to plunge over the highest hill. Excited. Fearful. Slightly sick. Wonderful.
When he saw Brian stop and stretch at the computer, Justin seized the opportunity. He carried the cards over to the desk and set them down.
"Brian, could you take a minute and sign these? Please?"
Brian stared at them. He didn't even ask what they were for, because it was obvious.
Justin held his breath. This was the moment when, if Brian was going to kick up a stink, he would do it. Instead, he picked up the pen and began signing his name to each one, right under the place where Justin had already signed his own.
Justin and Brian. Justin and Brian. Justin and Brian. Until all twelve had been signed.
"There," Brian said, putting down the pen. "Happy now?"
"Yes," Justin replied truthfully. "It's only a little thing, Brian. But it means a lot. Thank you."
"It's less than a little thing," Brian said dismissively. "It's nothing. A fucking card. People look at them and then throw them away."
"I don't," said Justin. "I keep them. And I look at them. And I remember all the people I know and love."
"You don't need a fucking card for that!" Brian sniffed.
"I know." Justin scooped up the cards. "It's a gesture. That's all it is. But it makes people happy. It's Christmas."
Brian sighed. "Fucking Christmas."
Justin smiled. "Yes. Fucking Christmas."
"Listen, Justin..." Brian began. But then he stopped. He stood up and walked away from the computer desk.
"What?"
"Nothing." Brian started up towards the bedroom.
"Brian? What?"
He paused on the top step. "It's nothing. We'll talk about it later." Brian turned and offered his hand. "Now get the fuck up here! My cock needs some attention."
"So does mine!" Justin countered.
"Fair enough."
Justin came up and took his hand. "Partners, right?"
Brian nodded. "Partners. Whatever the fuck that means."
Justin looked into his eyes. "It means whatever we say it means. Whatever we want it to mean."
"Whatever," Brian repeated. "But right now this partner needs to get laid!"
As they undressed Brian thought about what Justin had said. Partners. I guess that's what they were. But it was only words.
Fucking words.
Like the words he'd have to say to tell Justin that he wouldn't be there for Christmas. That Tony Conway and Stefan Radev had insisted he be in San Francisco for the Christmas and New Year's events. They actually wanted him there right now, but he'd been working his tail off from the Pitts so he wouldn't have to leave until right before Christmas.
But he couldn't put off the inevitable.
And what would Justin say about their fucking partnership then?
He closed his eyes as Justin took his cock into his mouth. Warm. Comforting. That's all he'd think about. Tonight. Right now. Fuck the future. Fuck anything that wasn't in that bed!
He opened his eyes and looked down. Touched Justin's golden head with his long fingers and his stomach turned over.
In an instant. It could all be gone.
In an instant.
But it was here now.
***
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, December 2005
After hearing Brian's horror story about Christmas Past, Justin decided not to press the issue of the Christmas tree.
He knew that the more he outwardly pushed Brian, the more his lover would dig in his heels and refuse to budge. Justin didn't want to turn the loft into a battleground, or their relationship into a constant struggle, so he retreated for the time being.
But Justin hadn't given up the idea of the Christmas decorations, or of making Brian see the value of the holiday, but he knew that he needed to take a different tactic. He'd make Brian see what the season had to offer. Make things cheerful. Make Brian happy. And if he was happy, then he'd be more likely to give, at least a little. Maybe he'd let Justin put up the white party lights. Put out some pine-scented candles. Maybe even hang their Christmas cards on a length velvet ribbon in the living room. Baby steps. That was the way to do it with Brian Kinney. And by next year, Justin was certain, they'd have a tree. It might be a small one, but even that would be a victory. And Justin wouldn't settle for anything less than a victory. Eventually!
A few days after the excursion to the mall, Justin brought home a box of Christmas cards. It was a small box -- only 12 cards -- and the scene portrayed wasn't overtly Christmasy -- a classy black and white photograph of some snow-covered birch trees -- so Justin thought it was perfect.
That evening, while Brian sat at the computer and messaged back and forth with Tony Conway, Justin worked on one of the drawings for his Life Studio portfolio. It was due at the end of week. And after that the semester was over. Justin felt a pang. He'd enjoyed taking that studio more than any of the classes he'd taken in four years at Dartmouth. Sometimes he picked up the catalog and looked at the class offerings for the spring semester at Carnegie Mellon. There were so many classes he wanted to take. Painting. Graphics. Multi-media. Animation. So many choices! So many possibilities!
He put the drawing aside.
Brian was frowning and tapping away at his keyboard. He'd been working every day, spending hours on the computer and phone, working out details for the series of holiday events to be held at the Maxim in San Francisco. Justin could tell he was frustrated by trying to work from so far away. Occasionally they took a break, going out to Babylon for a couple of hours to dance and toss back a few shots. Or they met the boys at Woody's for Happy Hour. But Brian always seemed preoccupied, like his mind was a thousand miles away. In San Francisco, specifically.
"I don't want to fuck this up," he told Justin as they lay in bed one night. "This feels like my last chance. I have to do it right."
Justin shook his head. "This is far from your last chance, Brian! That whole thing with Gardner Vance was just a slight hitch in your otherwise glorious career. Once you get back on track, you'll be invincible, as always!"
"You're a charming little liar," Brian sighed. But he pulled Justin closer. "What did I ever do without you?"
Justin laughed. "You fucked and drank and snorted and got yourself into trouble. The same as you do now!"
"No," said Brian. "Not the same as now. Because back then, when I finally finished fucking and drinking and snorting and getting into trouble, I came home and I was alone. That's the difference."
And Justin had hugged his lover tightly, thinking of the cold Christmas Eve when they met. Thinking how strong and haughty and arrogant Brian appeared to others. And how vulnerable he often was in the dark of night, when the demons that plagued him could no longer be fended off.
Justin thought about that again as he took out the Christmas cards and began quietly addressing the envelopes. What he really wanted to do was create his own cards. Take a cool photograph and work with it on the computer. Or make a line drawing with ink, starkly black and white, of a winter scene. Or maybe a watercolor. He'd use that as their own personalized Christmas card. A Justin Taylor original. Even Brian wouldn't balk at that. He'd be proud of the work Justin put into it. He was always proud of Justin's work. He'd even heard Brian bragging one evening when they were all drinking at Babylon -- he thought Justin was still in the men's room -- telling Michael that the lad was a genius and if he were running his own agency he'd hire him in a heartbeat. "Except he'd be running the place before I knew it!" he'd added.
"Yeah, sure!" Michael snarked. "That twink running your business!"
"We could run it together," Brian tossed off. Then he dropped the subject.
But Justin kept thinking about what Brian had said.
It could happen. It could work. Brian could use his vast expertise in advertising, while Justin could bring his artistic sensibility. Together they would be amazing! And they wouldn't have to leave Pittsburgh and go to a strange city. Because as much as Justin had dreamed of San Francisco, that Gay Mecca by the Bay, he didn't really want to leave his hometown behind. And all their friends, especially Michael and Ben. Em and Ted. Deb and Carl. His mom and Molly. Daphne. Even bratty Hunter. They might struggle for a while with a new agency, but they'd been struggling ever since Brian's suspension back in August. If they worked together it would be all right. Better than all right! They'd be a massive success!
And they'd be partners. In every way.
That gave Justin a feeling in his stomach like he was at the top of a roller coaster, ready to plunge over the highest hill. Excited. Fearful. Slightly sick. Wonderful.
When he saw Brian stop and stretch at the computer, Justin seized the opportunity. He carried the cards over to the desk and set them down.
"Brian, could you take a minute and sign these? Please?"
Brian stared at them. He didn't even ask what they were for, because it was obvious.
Justin held his breath. This was the moment when, if Brian was going to kick up a stink, he would do it. Instead, he picked up the pen and began signing his name to each one, right under the place where Justin had already signed his own.
Justin and Brian. Justin and Brian. Justin and Brian. Until all twelve had been signed.
"There," Brian said, putting down the pen. "Happy now?"
"Yes," Justin replied truthfully. "It's only a little thing, Brian. But it means a lot. Thank you."
"It's less than a little thing," Brian said dismissively. "It's nothing. A fucking card. People look at them and then throw them away."
"I don't," said Justin. "I keep them. And I look at them. And I remember all the people I know and love."
"You don't need a fucking card for that!" Brian sniffed.
"I know." Justin scooped up the cards. "It's a gesture. That's all it is. But it makes people happy. It's Christmas."
Brian sighed. "Fucking Christmas."
Justin smiled. "Yes. Fucking Christmas."
"Listen, Justin..." Brian began. But then he stopped. He stood up and walked away from the computer desk.
"What?"
"Nothing." Brian started up towards the bedroom.
"Brian? What?"
He paused on the top step. "It's nothing. We'll talk about it later." Brian turned and offered his hand. "Now get the fuck up here! My cock needs some attention."
"So does mine!" Justin countered.
"Fair enough."
Justin came up and took his hand. "Partners, right?"
Brian nodded. "Partners. Whatever the fuck that means."
Justin looked into his eyes. "It means whatever we say it means. Whatever we want it to mean."
"Whatever," Brian repeated. "But right now this partner needs to get laid!"
As they undressed Brian thought about what Justin had said. Partners. I guess that's what they were. But it was only words.
Fucking words.
Like the words he'd have to say to tell Justin that he wouldn't be there for Christmas. That Tony Conway and Stefan Radev had insisted he be in San Francisco for the Christmas and New Year's events. They actually wanted him there right now, but he'd been working his tail off from the Pitts so he wouldn't have to leave until right before Christmas.
But he couldn't put off the inevitable.
And what would Justin say about their fucking partnership then?
He closed his eyes as Justin took his cock into his mouth. Warm. Comforting. That's all he'd think about. Tonight. Right now. Fuck the future. Fuck anything that wasn't in that bed!
He opened his eyes and looked down. Touched Justin's golden head with his long fingers and his stomach turned over.
In an instant. It could all be gone.
In an instant.
But it was here now.
***