Untitled::Brand New::NC-17::Garrett/Brian

[inwe_elanesse]

Title: Untitled Garrett/Brian fic
Author: dejectedmadness
Rating: NC-17
Band/Pairing: Brand New - Garrett/Brian
Summary: Garrett isn't as put together as he'd have people believe.
Disclaimer: I don't know these guys, as much as I'd like to. No money being made. Just for cheap thrills.


Looking at Garrett, you’d never know. With so many more remarkable personalities in the music industry, his marginally introverted, somewhat self-absorbed attitude was hardly noticeable. Hell, with Jesse Lacey- schizo, unbalanced, angry, tormented Jesse Lacey- and unfriendly, private, personal Vin Accardi, Garrett’s habitual shyness, his cute-borderline-weird quirks, his social awkwardness, his distracted attention… it was run of the mill. Unless you had known Garrett for longer than Jesse or Vin, for much longer than Brand New had existed, and unless you were Brian Lane, you would assume, wrongly, that Garrett was just a sort of strange but mostly regular guy. You’d never know.

But for the other subset, those who had known Garrett before Jesse joined Taking Back Sunday, before Vinnie had begun high school, those who’d been friends with Garrett that eternity ago, for those who were named Brian Lane, Garrett was a special case. He didn’t grip his head and shriek at his guitar onstage. He didn’t get annoyed with interviewers and refuse to comment on anything lest they skew his words. But Brian knew in a way that no one else possibly could that Garrett Tierney was far from psychologically sound.

Brian and Garrett had a past that no one, not even snoopy-Vin, knew about, a fact that was doubly spectacular for the fact that history had had a way of emulating itself over the years. Not repeating, though, because Garrett disliked all manner of imitation; he wouldn’t even spit a retort at someone if he couldn’t think of something utterly original. Sometimes Brian wished he didn’t know his friend so well, at least until he remembered how disastrously Garrett might have met his fate on so many occasions had he not memorized Brian’s number in junior high. Sometimes even though Brian managed to remain thankful for his opportunity to help the other man, Brian still wished that it might somehow dampen his affinity for him.

He couldn’t remember a time when Garrett was not at the forefront of his thoughts, and not just because Brian had a mothering heart.

When Brian’s cell phone rang and displayed Garrett’s number, he dropped everything he was doing. He took the call in another room. “It’s Brooke,” he’d say. Or it was his mother, or his cousin. No one ever asked why he didn’t always jump up to answer his parents’ calls, and for that Brian was thankful.

“I’m looking down,” he would say, the first words out of his mouth, the first words electronic frequencies and electromagnetic waves relayed to Brian’s ear. “I’m looking down,” or “I’ve got this whole bottle of sleeping pills,” or “Blood looks less daunting on a blade.” Garrett didn’t believe in belaying the necessary details. They both knew why he called. It was never to say goodbye.

He had a stupid ringtone, and he always kept it off. His phone vibrated in his pocket instead, and it was a sure-fire way to get his attention immediately, except on rare occasions when he’d had too much to drink, or when he was in bed and his pants were not, but it had been a very long time since that had happened when the rest of his band was not bunked close enough that Garrett need only whisper to attract his attention. Unfortunately, tonight, a celebratory night since they were finally home for a few days, Brian was unable to feel that familiar vibration straight away. He was looking through the bottom of a brown bottle when it finally drew his attention, and by the time he was able to focus on the caller ID, the phone had gone still.

“Fuck.”

“What? S’it Brooke?”

Brian shook his head and stood, brushing past Vin before he could remember that it may have been a better idea to use his recently-ex-girlfriend as an excuse. Before a question he couldn’t answer presented itself, Brian strode from Jesse’s friend’s apartment, grabbing his jacket on the way out. Before the door could slam behind him, he was speed dialling Garrett back.

“I don’t like the smell of Javex in Coke.”

To clear his head, Brian took a deep breath of the damp night air. Car headlights and street signs continued to dance in his hazy vision, so he tucked his keys back into his pocket and waved at a cab across the street. “Where are you?”

“You might be mad. I’m in your kitchen. You gave me that key… I forgot you’d be out at John’s.”

Brian whispered his home address to the cabby with his hand covering the receiver. “I’m not mad.”

Garrett’s voice cracked. “I know.” He exhaled what Brian inferred to be an attempted laugh. “I know. You’re never mad.”

“No. I want you to call me when you need to.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “but I don’t want to when it’s inconvenient for you.”

“Garrett-”

“I know.” His voice broke. Silence extended through the phone for another long minute, perhaps made longer by Brian’s drunkenness. It was broken finally by a ragged gasp, a sniff, and then several more. “I know,” he whispered because he couldn’t speak through his tears. “I can call anytime.” Brian heard the phone rustle. He knew his friend was probably wiping his face. He waited. “It burns my nose; it smells awful.”

“Garrett, don’t… don’t drink that.” He covered his face with his free hand. Would he feel soberer by the time he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building? He opened his eyes to glance out the window. He was still ten minutes away. Palming a fifty, he reached over the seat, “I don’t suppose you could go a bit more quickly?” The cab driver didn’t even look in the rear mirror when he reached back for Brian’s bribe.

“Bri… I’m sorry I always do this to you.”

“I… I know.” It wasn’t alright.

“It’s just… sometimes this-this fucking shit in my head-” he shrieked. “It won’t-won’t leave me alone. Fuck, I’m sorry!”

Brian sat up straighter. “Gare, no, you know what? It’s totally fine-”

“It isn’t! I wish I knew how to make myself shut the fuck up!” Whimpering, sobbing, Garrett apologized again. He always did. Brian listened to the other man weep, his voice breaking in and out from attenuation due to the rain, which had only gotten heavier since he’d left the party.

“Look, Garrett, I’m almost there, okay.”

“What? No! Brian, no, you didn’t have to- Brian….”

“Garrett-”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I shouldn’t always fucking call you! God, I’m sorry!”

“No, Garrett, listen. Listen to me!” The whimpering subsided to sniffles and heavy breathes. “You know better than that. I told you before-”

“I can call anytime. I know. But I shouldn’t have to! I’m sorry….” Garrett cursed and audibly shuffled the phone around. “Fuck, Brian. You put up with so much from me. All I do is call you and talk about… nothing. This is such bullshit! Bull-fucking-shit! I’m so fucked up!”

“You’re not fucked up-”

“I hear things! I don’t act fucking normal! I’m fucking weird! How can you say-?”

“Seventeen eighty-five.”

“Who was that?”

Brian blinked at the cabby who had neatly tucked his fifty away from sight. He scowled but was in too much of a rush to argue.

“Fuck, you’re here, aren’t you? Brian, why did you come?”

Brian thrust twenty more dollars at the driver and scrambled from the car through the rain to the building.

“I always come when you need me, Garrett. I will always come.”

“Shit. Shit, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Garrett, don’t say that. It’s fine- Garrett? Garrett! Fuck!” He clicked his phone shut on the beeping “disconnected” tone and glared at the elevator which said that neither of the contraptions was on the ground floor.

Twelve floors and two minutes later, Brian burst through the stairwell doorway and raced down the hall to 1209, keys in hand. The doorknob turned without the key, though; Garrett had left it unlocked.

It was dark; all the lights were off, just as Brian had left them before the tour. It was his first night back, and he hadn’t even been home to drop off his bags, yet. Brian’s less-than-clear vision prevented his immediate detection of the glow in the corner, obviously from the face of a cell phone, and he momentarily wondered whether Garrett had tricked him, this time. When he shut out the sound of the fan in the hall with the door, though, Brian could hear breathing and gasping easily.

“Gare?” In seconds he was at his side. Sure enough, there was a two litre bottle of coke and a container of Javex on the tile next to the lean bassist, who Brian could only see thanks to the dim illumination from his phone. He was curled up, knees to his chest, and his face buried in them. “Garrett-”

“Brian…” he shook his head, rocked his head back and forth on his knees, but still didn’t look up.

Brian hesitantly stepped closer. “Garrett-”

“I’m sorry, Bri.”

“Garrett, you didn’t drink that did you?”

He detected a shake of the other boy’s head, but afraid it was only his last beer taking affect. “Garrett?”

“No. No… but…” Garrett finally glanced up. His level of sobriety slapped Brian in the face when he saw Garrett’s eyes, and when he noticed the glass clutched tightly in his left hand. “I thought… I thought that I might.”

Brian knelt down next to his friend, slowly because it was clear that Garrett’s grip was tenuous. “Garrett, don’t. Please don’t. Why don’t you just hand it to me-?”

“No! Brian! No, don’t-don’t-don’t do that! Don’t come in here with your fucking armour and your fucking friendship and try to tell me it’s going to be okay!”

Like he was slapped in the face, Brian recoiled. He couldn’t find words, not any words let alone appropriate ones. His mouth gaped dumbly.

“I can’t keep fucking doing this, Bri! I can’t do it! Every day, now, I hear myself say that it would feel good to lie down and sleep forever. I mean, I don’t say it, but I hear it. I hear me tell myself that. It’s hard to ignore, Brian. It’s hard to ignore good advice.”

“Garrett…” Brian exhaled sympathetically, “Garrett, it’s not a good idea. It’s not. It’s… it’s a terrible, bad, no-good idea.” Brian cursed the alcohol clouding his vision and slurring his speech.

“You’re drunk.” Garrett looked surprised, and that shocked Brian.

“I’ve had a few, but Garrett, just give me the benefit of the doubt here, okay? I want to help you, so please just let me-”

“How long have you put up with me? You’ve been doing this for years, Brian.” Garrett shook his head. “No one would fault you for slipping once. Not after you’ve tried so hard.”

“Garrett?”

The thin boy’s dark brown eyes were wide despite their swelling in a desperate plea. Brian watched as tears spilled endlessly down his cheeks. “Ever since you first met me I’ve been like this. I… I’m so fucked up, Brian. I know I am. I see how other people act, they act so normal, they don’t talk to themselves, they don’t do the same stupid shit as I do! I see it every day. Even Jesse! Jesse’s angry and disillusioned, but he isn’t crazy, he isn’t fucking losing it!” Garrett’s voice cracked. “It’s his mask, and he wears it when he performs. You know. You know he isn’t like he lets everyone think he is. He wants to be different, he wants to be special. You know, Brian!” Garrett sat up, he sat forward, but he clutched the foul concoction closer to his chest. “I?” Garrett nodded, his lips forming a thin white line as he pressed them together, bit them to hold onto the sliver of control that still remained. “I’m messed up, Bri. I’m really fucking fucked the fuck up.” Brian tried to shake his head, but before he could get a word in edgewise, Garrett snapped, “No! Look at me! Fucking look at me, Brian! Since I was fucking ten, I’ve just been to doctors and doctors and doctors, and I’ve been on fucking every medication for ADD and ADHD and OCD and-and-and- fuck! I’m neurotic, and I’m nervous, and I’m tense and I live in my fucking head! I live in my head because I can’t do this! I can’t do it, Brian!”

“Hey!” Garrett stopped. He’d been shouting. Brian’s voice, though, it echoed in the empty apartment, against his practice drum kit, rattling the snare and ringing through his cymbals. “You can! Stop saying you can’t! We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“No! No, Bri, you’ve made it! You’ve pulled my weight about as far as you can carry it.”

“Don’t say that, Garrett! Don’t!” he demanded firmly.

“I have to!” Garrett’s shoulders convulsed when he gasped for air. Abruptly enough to startle Brian again, Garrett started sobbing uncontrollably. He sat back against the cupboard door and held one hand over his face, while the other clutched the glass so tightly that his knuckles were white. Before Brian could decide to wrestle the Javex and Coke mix from his friend, Garrett was screaming. “I have to!” he cried. “I have to! I have to fucking do this Brian!”

“No you don’t! Garrett, no!”

Brian reached out, then. He couldn’t help himself, just like he couldn’t help the tears that sprung to his own eyes.

“No! No, fucking no you don’t, Garrett!” Brian’s hands closed over Garrett’s shoulders before he could stop himself. “I know it’s hard! I know all about the ADHD and the obsessive compulsive disorder and the neuroses and the voices and the depression and the anxiety and the attempted suicides Garrett! I know because I’ve been here with you, I’ve been right beside you every single time!” He punctuated his sentence with a heavy exhalation, then more compassionately, he said, “I have been by your side for fifteen years of this, Garrett. I’ve taken care of you. I know it’s not easy, I know. But you’re stronger than this. You’re the strongest person… the strongest person I’ve ever known. You can’t-” Brian’s voice broke, and with that the last of his resolve. Tears came flooding down his face, and he could do nought to stop them. “You can’t die, Garrett. Please, please just… you can’t. You can’t.” Brian sobbed, and just like that, he let go. It was too much, too much to face this, the closest of all close calls, and he wasn’t at the top of his game. He couldn’t help, not the way Garrett needed him. This might be it, this might be the end, and Brian was powerless to stop him. He was helpless to prevent the death of his best friend, the only person he’d ever loved. Brian covered his face with his arms so that he could hide the way it crumbled completely and revealed Brian and his infinite resolve for what he and it really was: a façade.

Shaking, Brian choked on the variety of fluids leaking from his face. He tried to mop himself up with his shirt, but fell short even there.

It wasn’t until Brian realized that he was a heap of despair wallowing in Garrett’s embrace that it became clear to him that his friend had abandoned his chalice of poison. Garrett knelt forward on his knees, gathering Brian in his arms, and Brian was struggling unsuccessfully to regain his composure. When his sobs subsided to an extent, he could hear Garrett whispering to him. “Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay, I won’t. I promise-I promise I won’t. I won’t. Please, shhh, Brian. Brian, it’s okay.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Garrett. I’m sorry.” It wasn’t as simple as shutting off a switch. Emotional-Brian had a hard time settling down, but being drunk on top of that was making it next to impossible. His frustration with himself only amplified his tears. “I’m sorry… I… I just don’t want you to die, Garrett, please.”

“I know. I know, I won’t. I’ll pour it out, okay? I won’t drink it. I’m sorry, Brian. Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry.”

It was all Brian could do to keep himself from beginning to cry all over again, once he managed to bring it down to a reasonable level, but Brian couldn’t let go of Garrett. The image of his corpse kept Garrett in his vice-grip.

“Why? Why does it upset you so much?” Garrett whispered. “No one cares about me. No one is supposed to care.”

Brian hugged him more tightly. “Of course I care,” he mumbled back. “Of course, of course, of course.”

“Why?” Garrett stroked Brian’s back. “Why would you care? I’m awful! I’m terrible to you!”

“You’re a good person. You’re my best friend-”

“Some best friend! Look what I do to you!” He tried to pull away, but Brian held on. “Look what I do. I’m horrible.”

“I care about you. I learned a long time ago that it doesn’t matter what a person you care about does to you. If you love them and they hurt you, you don’t stop. You can’t stop. It hurts more to love them, but you do. You love them unconditionally, even if it pulls you into pieces.”

This time, when Garrett tried to pull away, Brian didn’t clutch him more tightly. He let him pull back. What he hadn’t expected was the shock on Garrett’s face. Brian fell dumb.

“You… love me?”

‘Oh shit,’ Brian thought. He felt his face drain into pallor and could do nothing to stop the nausea that overcame him, likely from the mix of nerves, tears and alcohol.

“Brian?”

“I…”

Garrett peered penetratingly. He knew that look. He always bore the same fierce intensity when he suspected insincerity. It was his lie-detector expression. Brian couldn’t muster the composure to pretend his slip was casual. He couldn’t pass the polygraph.

“Garrett, I-”

“Brian-”

“Yes. I mean… I do, but…you know… it’s not like, you know…” Brian’s tongue felt thick, his lips were clumsy; they fumbled around the lie until he swallowed it whole and began again. “I… I’d like to say that I mean that as… as brotherly love, or… like I love you as a-a friend-” was he actually saying this?- “But…” he shook his head, and he couldn’t finish. His mouth was full of silence, full of unspoken sentiments that, slick as they were, slid through his tenuous grasp. “But… I….”

“Brian.” His attention focused on Garrett’s expectant face, his still-puffy eyes, his still awe-slacked mouth. “Brian, what-?”

“I love you, Garrett. I’ve always loved you.” Brian’s mouth shut with a snap as he realized what he just said. “Oh God.” Bile rose, burning the back of his throat. “Oh shit.” He covered his face with both hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This isn’t the time- I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t have said anything. Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey!”

“God, Garrett, I’m sorry-”

“No, hey, stop. Brian. Stop, look at me.”

Brian shook his head and childishly refused to remove his hands from his eyes, but when Garrett pulled his wrists down, he couldn’t escape without it becoming ridiculous. With a furrowed brow, Garrett peered searchingly into Brian’s likely bloodshot eyes.

“You love me?”

“Garrett, please, can we not do this? Can we just forget it? Please! Please just forget it-”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why? Why do you… why do you love me?”

Brian gaped and then shook his head. “Garrett, no, I can’t- I shouldn’t have-”

“Why?!” Brian jumped at the outburst. “I’m so goddamn absorbed in myself, in my own problems, and I’m fucking… I’m fucking crazy sometimes!” Garrett exclaimed. “I’m messed up, Brian! What’s there to love? What-?”

“You’re beautiful! You’ve got some issues, Garrett, but… you love. You’re passionate. You’re interesting. You’re fun. You’re wonderful. You’re… I don’t know. I don’t know! If I knew maybe I could have stopped, maybe I wouldn’t have just- I didn’t mean to say it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not!” Garrett laughed derisively. “I’m a freak! I’m a liar and an asshole, look what I do to you! Look what I put you through!”

“You are.” Garrett’s startled expression continued to examine Brian for that lie he was so sure about. “You’re amazing, Garrett. I wish you could know how amazing I think you are.”

How could he have spoken, said those words? Brian cursed the day he discovered his crush. He cursed every moment leading up to this embarrassing revelation, every time he’d watched his friend sleep, every time he’d talked him down off a ledge or away from a bottle of pills or out of wielding a knife, every day he’d spent with Garrett and just enjoyed the pleasure of his company. Then he took back every one.

“I’m sorry,” Brian whispered finally, after a long and drawn out silence from his tattooed counterpart. “I shouldn’t have said anything….”

“Brian-” but Garrett thought better of whatever he’d been about to say. He watched the bassist struggle with himself. Garrett’s face screwed up in concentration, and his eyes drifted from Brian’s, gazing into empty space. Ready to spew the first thought that made it through his mind, past the barriers of all of his inhibitions, his mouth was parted, but Garrett didn’t speak or make a sound for a long time. Brian was about to speak his name again, when he met his eyes with an abruptness that startled him, despite the lack of physical movement required to shift his eyes. “Bri…” Garrett transferred his weight on his knees. It took Brian until the other boy was an inch away before he realized his friend wasn’t just trying to get comfortable.

Brian didn’t even feel the first brush of lips. The adrenaline igniting his veins coupled with his alcohol-dulled senses made his skin feel like static. It was hard to focus on a touch so light. But Garrett was not a fan of subtlety. He pressed harder, forced recognition upon Brian. Yes, he was being kissed. Common courtesy suggested he should reciprocate, but he had difficulty convincing himself that this wasn’t some alcohol-induced hallucination. When Garrett pulled back to examine Brian’s face, that was when it became real for the percussionist. In light of his newfound clarity and realization, Brian wasted no time in instigating the second embrace.

As though he had no control over his limbs, Brian awoke from his kissing-Garrett-delirium to find his hands clutching the other boy’s face, holding him in place. He’d shifted to his knees, too, because it was easier to eliminate the space between them that way, and Brian’s body, without his assent, decided that the only place it wanted to be was close to Garrett.

When Garrett finally managed to pull back, free of his vice’s grip, Brian found his clouded mind could clear rapidly after all, especially when faced with the abruptness of uncertainty and dread. “Oh God, Gare, I’m sorry! That was wrong, wasn’t it? Fuck-”

“Bri, why are you apologizing?” Garrett leaned in again. With his lips close enough to brush Brian’s again, he reminded, “I was the one who kissed you,” and Brian gasped, inhaling the hot and vaguely sweet flavour of his friend’s breath before he was once again overcome by lips.

Garrett’s tongue was the next surprise. It wrested Brian’s mouth open to receive it, which he did with glee. As his senses began to sharpen thanks to the adrenaline and arousal that rose in him, it became increasingly more difficult to convince his body not to grow rigid, though Brian didn’t know how much longer he could maintain his flaccidness under the other boy’s tender ministrations. He wished he were sober for this. Brian knew in the morning that he would doubt whether any of this had occurred. Perhaps it wasn’t occurring! What if this was an alcohol-induced hallucination? Seconds later he ascertained that this was definitely as real as his own erection when Garrett shifted forward with his lean, angular hips, and pulled Brian’s toward himself. Dreams didn’t feel this fucking good. Garrett’s following sigh drew his attention to the fact that was pressing into his hip: Garrett was enjoying this just as much as Brian.

Ever the pessimist, however, Brian just couldn’t let it go. With effort, he retracted his lips, much to the dismay of the other man. “Why are you doing this?”

Garrett didn’t answer. Brian stared at his swollen lips, motionless with his lack of response.

“Why-?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Brian swallowed. “Was it just because-?”

“You love me. You care more about me than anyone ever has.” Garrett shook his head. “You’ll keep me safe… safe from myself.”

“I’ll always keep you safe, Garrett.” Brian brushed Garrett’s soft wayward curls back from his forehead. “You don’t need to do this to make me want to help you-”

“I’m doing this because it feels good, and we both want it.”

“You do?”

Garrett kissed him again, and Brian almost forgot that he was protesting. “I think maybe I always did,” he whispered. “You’re always there, Brian. You’re kind to me, and you understand. You’ve always been perfect for me, I think. I just… I didn’t know.” Garrett swiped his tongue over the other boy’s lips, and Brian shuddered. “And I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t attracted to you. You’re probably the single most gorgeous person I know.”

Brian snickered, but it was devoured by Garrett’s next attack. “I’m hotter than Vin?” he managed to ask finally.

“I’ve never been attracted to anyone more than I am to you, Brian.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know.” Garrett pressed in again. Garrett’s lips seared Brian’s skin. Where Garrett’s fingertips rested against Brian’s arm and shoulder felt unbearably hot. He’d pictured this a hundred times over, but never had he considered that it might actually happen to him. He doubted, again, his mind’s capacity to deal with an abundance of alcohol, but remembered that he wasn’t excessively drunk when he’d left the party, since he’d only had a few, and if the boy with whom he’d been in love kissing him couldn’t sober Brian, at least to an extent, then nothing could. Despite the collision of every wet dream Brian had ever had with his waking reality, he couldn’t ignore the fact that somehow this felt too easy.

“Stop.” He almost couldn’t believe that those uttered words had come from his mouth, and if he hadn’t witnessed it, he might have laughed had the news been relayed to him by some third party. Why would he ever ask Garrett Tierney not to kiss him?

“What’s wrong?”

“You can’t… we can’t…. Garrett… Garrett, this isn’t just… this is… it’s serious. You’re going to regret this tomorrow, and if you can’t face me… I don’t think I could handle it. I couldn’t handle it, Garrett. We have to stop.”

“No. No, Brian-”

“Please, just don’t-”

“How often do I change my mind about something? I don’t act on whims, Bri, you know that.”

“Garrett-”

“What makes you think that this would be any different?” Brian would have shrugged and offered some excuse or explanation, but his friend pressed on. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to talk to. I love being around you, Brian. You’re my best and closest friend.”

“Best friends aren’t lovers, Garrett. And you’ll regret deciding to change that.”

“I’m not the drunk one, here, Brian.”

He sighed with a shake of his head and reminded Garrett, “You were just about to guzzle bleach. I wouldn’t be confident in saying you have you head about you right now.”

“Listen to me, Brian. You are the only fucking person who could have made me put that glass down. It’s always been only you. You are the only person who has ever mattered to me.”

Brian sat back on his heels. “Now I know you’re not thinking clearly. You’ve had a hundred girlfriends-”

“Girlfriends who never lasted, and who never got close. Who of them has seen what you’ve seen?” Brian’s mouth hung open in the midst of his protest. “I hold you in a far higher regard than any of them. I hold you higher than anyone. Do you want reassurance? Do you want me to say that I’m not going to fuck you and then leave you? I wouldn’t. I would never do something like that to-”

“Please stop,” Brian whispered.

It hurt. In his chest, the back of his throat, his head especially. Brian could feel every childish wish and idealistic desire aching like a physical welt, throbbing through his body, a searing sensation on the painful side of pleasure.

“I can’t hear right now that you love me, or that you think you’ve always loved me. I save you. I’m that guy who is there for you through hard times. Sometimes I think I’m a sucker, and that you can’t possibly understand, Garrett, what it is you put me through. You cannot possibly know how hard it is to keep myself together so I can keep you together. Because the second I slip is the second you fall. It’s really hard to live with the weight of a life on your shoulders, more than just your own. I don’t think you could possibly understand that, since you don’t even feel the weight of one. It’s on me. You’re so ensconced in your own darkness that I sometimes think you like it better there, where you don’t have to face real emotions from real people, people who know more than pain. You’d have seen, otherwise. Brooke saw. She knew that as often as I lied to her and placated her, no amount of ‘I love you’s or kisses or hugs would ever make me care for her like I have always cared for you.” Brian shook his head. “Maybe it is just too cold and dark inside your head for you to recognize love when you see it. Maybe real feelings don’t exist in a heart that bleeds daily. Maybe it isn’t your fault you never knew, Garrett, but don’t try to tell me that because I broke down and told you something I shouldn’t have, you think you’re in love with me. Even if it’s true, don’t do that to me. Don’t tell me you’ll be with me forever. Don’t say you want me to be yours, or that you need me to protect you forever. Because I want that too much for you to take it all back tomorrow, in daytime-clarity.” Brian swallowed. He tried to wet his lips, but his tongue was parched and only stuck to his skin. “It would kill me.”

When Brian could face Garrett again, the other boy looked lost. His repertoire of possible responses was clearly emptied of any useful content, and understandably. How could Garrett be expected to anticipate a love confession from his oldest and closest friend?

“I don’t know what to do, Brian.”

Brian shook his head and shrugged. He didn’t know either.

“You are the most important person in my life. You’re the only person I give a shit about. I need you. I need you around, always. I know that without you, Brian, I can’t…. Fuck. I can’t fucking do this without you!” He gripped Brian’s shoulders again, firmly with both hands. “I wish I knew how to make you happy. After everything I’ve done to hurt you…. I never meant to, Brian.” Garrett shifted. He leaned closer. He touched Brian. It felt like a thousand shards of broken glass shredding what was left of his heart into ribbons. “Brian, tell me… tell me what I can do. What can I do to fix it?”

“Nothing, Garrett. You don’t have to do anything.”

Garrett shifted again. He touched Brian again. “I have to make it better. I want to… I need you to know… that you matter.”

“I know, Garrett. I’m-I’m not going to go anywhere.”

“No….” He slid closer, and the hands on Brian’s shoulders slid up to his neck. “No, I need to show you.”

“Garrett?”

Garrett kissed him softly, so softly that Brian was afraid to breathe, afraid that his exhale would push those lips away, that they would float off on the breeze and prove themselves only a dream. Garrett did it again, though, and the second time was far more forceful and contained far more intent. Garrett would not be dissuaded by a breath, Brian knew now.

Garrett’s fingers were in his hair, callused fingertips pressing into his scalp. One hand cupped Brian’s jaw. Garrett kissed him harder still, pressing with the force of teeth behind his lips until finally Brian’s parted. He moaned- a sound he couldn’t stifle- and it rumbled through his chest, up into his throat and out from between his busy lips to be swallowed by Garrett’s hungry mouth. With those callused fingers skimming his skin, Brian couldn’t think. In less than five minutes Garrett had reduced him to a mindless mass of desire. His nipples, yet untouched, were hard against the rough, abrasive material of his shirt, and he was already beginning to feel the stir of adrenaline in his stomach, and lower.

Brian was enjoying the sensation of his friend’s hands on his stomach when Garrett finally broke his lips away from Brian’s for long enough to smile against them. “Love or not, I want this, Brian. I want you.”

“God, Garrett,” he breathed, but by the time the words escaped, Garrett’s lips were devouring every trace of sound.

Brian thrust his tongue between Garrett’s lips, a bold move for someone who had been uncertain about the direction things were headed only moments before, but Garrett’s hands had delved lower than they previously had. Brian’s hips shifted forward, coaxed by Garrett’s palm, which rested over the significant bulge beneath the percussionist’s fly. Garrett stroked the erection through the denim and made Brian’s breath catch in his throat before escaping in the form of a grunt, loudly enough to coax a similar sound from the other man.

“Oh, Brian,” Garrett whispered. It turned him on a lot when Garrett whispered his name like that, like a lover. Suddenly, Garrett’s fingers were flying at Brian’s fly, popping the button open and fumbling with the zipper. Brian’s hands tightened on Garrett’s shoulder. He should tell him no, Brian thought, but he was rendered totally dumb by the hot, hard fingers that closed over his now-bare erection.

“Jesus, Garrett!” he managed, gasping.

“Mmm,” his friend replied.

Brian willed himself to take control of the situation. He got so far as drawing his hands back from the other boy before Garrett swiped his fingers over his head and made him see stars. When that electric sensation passed, Brian found that his hands had taken it upon themselves to join Garrett’s in committing possibly the best sin he could think of.

Garrett’s breath hitched because Brian’s flat palms were sliding down his hips and beneath the somehow undone jeans so that he could ease them down his legs. When Brian took him in hand, Garrett’s kisses grew more frantic. A surge of adrenaline cleared Brian’s vision considerably and made his cock twitch.

“Brian,” Garrett bit at his lips. “Brian… I want to do something for you,” Garrett pleaded.

Brian could only moan in the other man’s ear when Garrett broke their next kiss to let his lips migrate to Brian’s ear. “Lie down,” he whispered.

The tile of the kitchen was cold. Brian had forgotten where they were or what had been happening prior to the man of his dreams deciding to go down on him. Garrett had stripped Brian’s t-shirt and discarded it quickly. He paved a trail with his tongue from Brian’s throat, his Adam’s apple, on which Garrett had previously spent moments sucking, to his left nipple, then his right. From there, Garrett wasted almost no time in reaching his bellybutton, and finally his prize. Brian was afraid he was going to hyperventilate when Garrett pulled back to hover over his groin. He could feel Garrett’s breath as he inhaled and exhaled several times. Brian counted to six before opening his eyes. Garrett was looking at him.

“You don’t have to.” The sound of his own voice shocked Brian almost more than the words he whispered. “It’s okay.”

Garrett swallowed as he panted. “I’ve never done this before.”

Brian began to sit up, but Garrett pushed him back down.

“No, it’s okay, I just… I don’t know….”

“It’s alright, Garrett. We can do something else.”

“I want to. I want to, I just… I’ve never-”

“Come here. We can…” Garrett came back up to eyelevel with Brian. “We can just keep doing this, Gare. Just… just don’t stop doing this.”

Garrett bit his throat again, under his ear. “I want to show you, Brian. This isn’t just some desperate circle jerk. This isn’t nothing. I want to do something for you.”

Brian shook his head. “It’s okay, Garrett.”

“Tell me again.”

“What?”

Garrett kissed him softly again. He stole Brian’s breath so completely that he thought he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

“Tell me how you feel… how you feel about me. Please, Brian. I want to hear it again.”

Brian sighed. Garrett’s deft fingers stroked his chest. He rubbed his nipples. Brian moaned again. “I… I love you, Garrett. I’ve loved you since I met you. I love you more every day.”

“Oh Brian,” Garrett groaned. He shifted his hips and ground his crotch into Brian’s so that they both cried out.

“I love you,” Brian whispered again. “I love you, I love you.”

Garrett kissed him then with a fierceness that shocked Brian. “I don’t deserve your love,” he exhaled. Garrett turned his head away, he masked whatever he was feeling or thinking with kisses to Brian’s throat.

Brian shook his head, though, and he took his friend’s face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. Garrett couldn’t hide the traces of sadness that still marred his face despite his surprise at Brian’s brute force. Brian saw everything in that look; Garrett believed every word. He hated himself and believed happiness a boon too elite for him. “You deserve everything,” Brian countered, much to Garrett’s obvious shock. “You deserve more, Garrett. I wish I could give that to you.” He traced Garrett’s features, his wide and confused eyes, with raised eyebrows creasing his skin, his parted lips, red, swollen and hot from kisses, his defined cheekbones, his ears, his nose, his chin. “I wish I could even conjure the words to tell you how wonderful you are, Garrett.”

Garrett closed his parted lips. His shifty eyes flitted away, but Garrett knew the importance of letting Brian see them, and past them, and he glanced back, holding his gaze unwaveringly. With a shift of hips, Garrett’s lithe body slid between Brian’s thighs. He helped Brian’s knees bend, maneuvered them to grip his slim waist. Garrett, with his fingers in Brian’s hair again, pressed forward just so, and Brian felt the brush of the other man’s arousal against his backside.

“Can we do this?” he asked, faintly breathless. “Can you show me how?”

Brian licked his lips. God, he wanted to. He sighed, “It’s not as… as easy as… as with a girl, Gare.”

“Show me, Brian. I want to do this with you.” Another shift of Garrett’s hips convinced him.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, yes.”

It was awkward, explaining. It was even more awkward because Brian hadn’t the experience that Garrett must have thought he had. Brian had never done this before.

“Like this?” Garrett asked when he inserted his third finger. Brian tried not to appear to be in as much pain as he was. He blinked rapidly to fend off tears.

“Right. Just until it’s… until I’m… stretched. I…” ‘I think,’ he had been about to say. He didn’t know. He didn’t know whether it was supposed to hurt like this. He just didn’t know.

“Does it get better for you, Brian?”

Brian opened his eyes to Garrett’s concerned ones.

“I don’t mean to hurt you. Am I doing it wrong?”

“It’s supposed to hurt… a little bit, I….” There it was again, the ‘I think.’ He swallowed it.

Garrett thrust his fingers slowly in and out of Brian. His arm was shaking. Both arms were, the one that held him up, and the one that was doing the work. He bent to kiss Brian, but they were both out of breath, they were both trying too hard to enjoy this, and to make it enjoyable for the other. The kiss didn’t last long enough to distract Brian from the discomfort. It wasn’t really as painful as all that. It was just awkward. It felt weird to have something inside of him like that. It stung a little bit, but Brian could block it out. He just remembered that it was Garrett who was doing this to him and that made it okay. He tried harder to relax.

It was when Brian managed to do that, release the tension in all of his muscles that prevented Garrett from making much headway, that the other boy was finally able to thrust those digits into Brian fully.

“Oh,” Brian muttered, but not because it hurt, because it was new.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Don’t stop, it’s okay. I’m o-oh! Oh my God!”

When Brian’s head cleared and the spots in front of his vision had faded, he could see Garrett’s face, frightened and shocked. He spoke, but Brian couldn’t hear him. He was too busy trying to remember the English language.

“I’m o-okay,” he responded finally, after many long heartbeats spent recovering. “Keep going, Gare. That felt… holy shit….”

When Garrett’s face split into a genuine smile, Brian couldn’t help but grin back. He leant up to catch the boy’s lips, but Garrett followed him back down and resumed his ministrations with a kiss.

In the next five minutes, Garrett managed to do it again twice. Brian’s head went reeling into some black abyss of oblivion and bliss each time, gripping Garrett’s shoulder to steady himself and to bring him back from the place where he was lost in sensation.

“How does it feel?” Garrett asked him after the last time.

Brian’s eyelids dopily drooped, heavy with desire. “Like nothing you can imagine,” Brian admitted.

Garrett smiled and chuckled. “I meant… I meant do you think you’re ready… to um… for me to…?”

Brian blushed, although he wasn’t aware that with so little blood left available given the other things it was being used for that it was even possible. “Yes, I think… I think that I’m okay.”

Garrett assumed the position. Brian propped his legs up, hips above the ground, and in seconds felt that exquisite pressure. Garrett pressed inside of him slowly. Brian kept a tight grip on the other boy’s arms to assist in monitoring the speed at which Garrett thrust into him.

“Jesus, Brian,” Garrett hissed. Brian was mute. It was too much. Too much pressure, too much sensation. It felt too good. It was more than Brian could handle and still maintain enough coherence to communicate or comprehend.

Garrett pulled back, grunting. Brian felt almost empty at the loss of the pressure Garrett provided. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word could spill past his lips, Garrett was returning the way he came. Brian hissed with him, this time.

“Jesus, Bri, you’re so fucking tight!” His voice shook as Garrett shuddered through the end of the sentence. Brian wished he could respond. He wanted to tell Garrett how it felt. He was splitting in half, but the dazzling pressure made it exquisite. He couldn’t verbalize it. He could never explain to Garrett that it felt like he was complete. He was filled to the brim. He lacked nothing. The words didn’t come.

Garrett thrust inside again, and this time more quickly, as Brian was loosening, still. Garrett shifted to get more comfortable, and so he could latch his lips onto Brian’s throat more easily.

“Are you okay?” Garrett whispered after a number more thrusts of equal speed and intensity.

“I’m fine.”

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

Brian shook his head. “You won’t,” he replied with conviction. “You wouldn’t hurt me.

Garrett smiled, albeit sadly, and pressed his lips tenderly to Brian’s. He dropped to his elbows and rested against him, cupping his head with his forearms and hands. He introduced his tongue into their kiss about the same time he resumed moving his hips. Brian groaned. This was a new angle, it felt different from how it had felt. It seemed easier, it seemed more intimate.

Garrett sighed into Brian’s mouth. “Brian… God, Brian, you feel so good.”

Brian moaned back because his tongue was otherwise engaged. He gripped Garrett more firmly with his knees and rocked his hips upward into the other man. Apparently, that was exactly what he needed. With that thrust, with that shifting, shuddering, sliding sway of hips, Garrett’s cock managed to strike that spot within Brian that he had thought only a fairy tale until mere moments ago. Brian arched his back. Grunting, he captured Garrett’s lips again. He was more frantic, now, more desperate. Garrett licked his lips, drew his lower one into his mouth, and they shifted their hips again, simultaneously, so that Garrett met Brian’s prostate once again.

Brian could barely hold in his cry. He choked it down, thinking of the neighbours. “God, Garrett,” he breathed. “You feel so fucking good. Don’t stop. Please, please don’t stop!”

He didn’t. A rapidly growing succession of repetitions of hip twists, thrusts, and drives bought Garrett down on Brian again and again until kissing became out of the question when both boys fought for breath.

Garrett shifted again for better leverage. He moaned audibly, then, and for the first time in many minutes, Brian remember that he was having sex with- fucking, or rather, being fucked by- his best friend. The revelation brought another surge of adrenaline to make his cock twitch. He moaned, “Oh, Garrett!” He squeezed his arms, urging him even faster.

“Bri! Shit, Brian….”

Climax was impending. Brian was moments away from his peak. “Garrett,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Garrett’s dark eyes opened and focused hard on Brian. A bead of sweat dripped from his hair down his forehead. Garrett blinked it out of his eyes. “Tell me again,” he begged.

“What?”

“Tell me, Brian. I want to hear it again and again. Tell me you do….”

“I do?” Brian blinked. “I do. I do, I love you, Garrett. I’ve always- oh God!- shit, Gare, I’ve always loved you.”

“Oh, Brian,” Garrett’s arms shook. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded.

Brian lifted his head from the ground with effort. He pressed his lips against Garrett’s, forcing his eyes open. “I love you, Garrett.”

Garrett’s eyes rolled upwards. He shoved his hips hard into Brian’s. Brian yelled when he struck his prostate, but then Garrett was coming. Brian could feel something hot dripping down his backside, and Garrett shoved himself one last time into Brian. Then, Brian’s orgasm overtook him, too, and he yelled his release to his lover and to his neighbours and to the night.

When Brian could focus again, Garrett had extricated himself from their entwinement and was now trailing fingertips over Brian’s sweat-shiny skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he croaked. Garrett cleared his throat. “You look so peaceful right now. Like nothing could bother you and nothing worries you or makes you sad. You look perfectly peaceful.”

Brian smiled softly, but his grin was tainted. The morning would see him acting differently, Brian was certain. Garrett couldn’t easily cast this aside. He could never just pretend that nothing happened between them. It wasn’t in his nature.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Garrett asked Brian, unexpectedly. Brian watched him, shocked, until Garrett shifted awkwardly.

“You want to… uh… well, yeah. Of course. I’d love for you to-to stay.”

After cleaning up, putting away everything in the kitchen, Brian led Garrett to his bedroom. He watched Garrett crawl into bed, stripping his boxers, again, as he went, and Brian hesitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to… I mean… I didn’t think….”

Garrett pulled back the covers, inviting Brian in, too. “In the morning, you’ll see,” he whispered with certainty.

Brian hesitated, but crawled beneath the sheets, feeling awkward and sad. He tried to relish every second with the boy at his side, but it made him feel mostly depressed. He knew that when daylight shone its perspective on the situation, Garrett wasn’t likely to still have the same attitude about it. Brian was afraid, above all, that tonight he had lost his best friend.

They fell asleep in one another’s arms, Brian with tears on his cheeks.

***

Brian was drawn bodily from his dreams at a time far too early for his incredibly mild hangover to appreciate by the most erotic sucking sensation and fingers denting his hips.

“Garrett!” he cried out because the sucking was both unexpected and decidedly pleasant, especially given that it was a novelty to Brian. Garrett’s inhibitions had apparently vanished in the night because he was providing Brian with an, although sloppy, delightful blow job.

At the sound of his name, though, the bassist pulled back. His lips smacked when he released Brian’s dick. “I hope I wasn’t too forward.”

“Gare, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like-?”

“Why, though?” Brian panted, hardly awake or coherent enough to be having this conversation. He pressed on, “What is this?”

In seconds, the other boy was at face-level. “To show you.”

Brian blinked uncomprehendingly.

“I regret nothing. Bri… please have a little faith in me. Please just… just… trust me.”

“Garrett, what are you asking?”

“Do you love me?”

Brian stuttered. “W-Wha- Garrett-”

“Do you love me? You said you loved me last night. You said you always had. Were you lying?”

Somberly Brian shook his head. “No- I mean- yes. No, I wasn’t lying.”

Garrett grinned and bent to kiss Brian. “I want to be with you, Bri.”

“Garrett-”

“Don’t tell me no. Please? I promise I won’t let you down. I won’t hurt you, Brian.”

“Garrett, you don’t… you don’t love me. Don’t try to tell me-”

“Shh. Don’t. I won’t. I’ll never… just… let me show you, Brian.”

“Garrett-”

“I won’t tell you. I won’t say it. You’ll know, though. You know me too well.”

“Garrett. You don’t love me.”

Garrett kissed him softly. “Maybe. Give me a chance.”

Brian stared at him, tried to read him. Garrett smiled and kissed Brian. He took the silence as agreement and slid back beneath the covers. His eager, though unpracticed lips had Brian moaning in seconds.