new oneshot: But So Does
Title: But So Does
Characters: Brian/Justin
Timeframe: post-513
Genre: angst, bit of schmoop, sickness
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,300
Prompt: 021. Fragile (from my fanfic50 table)
But So Does
by sakesushimaki
The last time Justin breaks up with Brian, he does it over the phone. It’s shitty and immature. But so is Brian. It hurts and leaves him miserable for weeks. But so does Brian.
Brian doesn’t fight, of course -- for everything else, against everything else, but never for them.
Justin fucks and drinks like there’s no tomorrow. Unfortunately there is, however, and people at work start asking. Melvin slips him an AA schedule, Tonya throws him worried glances all day from the next desk, and JJ asks for advice on where to buy decent coke.
He celebrates his 25th birthday on the couch watching anime movies. He never gets these movies but that night, he finds that the ghost-guy from Spirited Away who gets blacker and bigger must have taken residency in his own chest.
That night, he decides to stop seeking distraction in asses and booze. He calls Daphne in Pittsburgh at 3am and tells her he’s finally willing to talk. She only bitches about the time for a minute before she clicks on the coffee maker and listens to him till well past 4. He finally tells her that what hurts the most is Brian’s non-reaction.
The few tears that come gush in angry speed down his face. They don’t give him any relief, they don’t give him any hope.
But so doesn’t Brian.
+
The call comes two months later when he’s finally starting to get himself together again. Clearly, life doesn’t care for timing. But so doesn’t Brian.
He doesn’t look like himself. He looks weak, thin, not quite alive. Justin doesn’t trust the beep of the machines and feels his wrist just to be sure. Brian hates being watched while he sleeps but Justin doesn’t give a fuck right now. So he does just that for two hours.
When Brian wakes up, the first thing he does is frown at the tubes stuck in his hand. Then he sees Justin.
They stare at each other for a while in silence. Justin’s eyes and throat hurt with unshed tears and unsaid words.
“Why did you…? How did you let it come so far?” he croaks.
Brian doesn’t say anything. He looks away. He lifts his hand, feels his temple and the bandage there.
Brian was at work when it happened. He collapsed right in the middle of a meeting. He hit his head on his desk when he sank to the floor. Cynthia was shaking like jello when she told Justin how it went down. How Brian went down. How his eyes rolled back in his head and his legs gave out.
Justin hopes she didn’t notice, but he was shaking, too, listening.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” he says now, hours later, hands more or less under control again. “Why would you be so stupid?”
Brian looks him in the eye again. “You weren’t there to stop me.”
It hurts like hell. It makes him angrier more. “You asshole.”
According to the doctor, Brian has been doing his best ignoring his sickness. It started with a fucking cold, a cold, and Brian ran himself half-dead because he refused to give in. He refused until his body decided for him and shut off.
“I hope Debbie gave you hell.”
Knowing Brian, he’s probably been avoiding her for a while.
“She’s waiting for me to get a bit better before she gives it to me.”
They’re silent again for a while and it strikes Justin as odd. He figured that whenever they saw each other again there would be talking, maybe fighting, but he didn’t expect this.
He shakes his head and looks down at the floor. He lifts his head again when Brian starts to speak.
“I… I thought it was something else.”
Justin tries to follow.
“I thought it was something bigger. I thought I would go in and a doctor would tell me to get my affairs in order or something.”
Justin feels nauseous. “You… you thought you were dying?” He’s not sure he can comprehend the thought.
Brian thought he was dying and didn’t contact him. Brian thought he was dying and didn’t do anything. He thought he was dying and didn’t fucking care.
“Are you okay?”
Justin snaps out of his thoughts and regrets that he’s so readable. “You’re the one attached to fucking feeding tubes, Brian.”
“I wanted to tell you. And then, when I woke up in that fucking ambulance, I thought it was too late.”
Brian’s eyes glaze over with something shining and painful. He lifts his hand to wipe away the weakness and an IV line comes loose.
Justin jumps from his chair to attach it again. Brian grabs his hand and Justin thinks the air is getting thinner. He reaches back with the other hand, pulls the chair closer. He needs to sit.
When he dares looking up at Brian, he finds him watching him. The rawness in Brian’s eyes scares Justin.
“I-”
“Don’t.” Justin shakes his head and then bends to bury it in Brian’s neck. Brian doesn’t even smell like himself at the moment.
“You know, though, right?”
Justin doesn’t answer and he feels the fingers around his curl more tightly.
“Justin?”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath and presses his face to Brian’s shoulder, against the fabric of the awful gown.
“Sometimes I don’t trust it,” he mumbles.
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
Justin looks up with a start and blinks at the nurse he didn’t hear knock. He doesn’t know what to say to her not-so sudden appearance. Luckily, she does.
“Mr. Kinney’s IVs need to be changed.”
“Right, sorry.” Justin stands but Brian doesn’t let go of his hand.
“Stay.”
“I should-“
“Stay. This will probably take all of five minutes.”
Justin looks at the nurse, who gives a small nod. He pushes the chair to the side, detaches Brian’s hand from his and walks over to the window. He feels Brian’s eyes bore into his skill but he tries to focus on other things.
The nurse gets to work.
“So,” Brian says, his tone changed. “I hear you’re telling everyone that you’re doing fine. How are you doing really?”
“What’s wrong with fine?”
“Justin. I know you. Fine is… bullshit.”
Justin sighs. It kind of is. “I work fifty-hour weeks. The job isn’t bad but it’s not what I want to do. I get little painting done and don’t even feel like it most of the time. I live with a roommate I don’t like, in a neighborhood I don’t like, in an apartment I don’t like, with a couch I hate.”
Brian frowns. “How long has this been going on?”
“A while.” It started long before the official break-up. Back when Brian barely called or emailed anymore because he decided that Justin was busy loving his life in New York. Back when Justin got tired of telling him differently.
Brian knows what Justin is saying. Justin can read it in his eyes. He can see the guilt forming and wonders how much of this transparency is drug-induced.
The nurse leaves and Justin stays by the window. The beeping of the machines gives their silence a rhythm.
“What happens now?”
“I’m sure they want to keep you here for a couple more days. Then, you-“
“I don’t mean that.”
Justin looks at Brian, tries to see. He thinks he finds what he’s looking for.
“It depends on you, Brian. Like it always has. What I want hasn’t changed. Not in the basic aspects. Not in seven years.”
Brian looks away then, down, his fingers fiddling with the linen. Justin isn’t sure he’s ever seen him this way.
“Yeah. Same here.”
Justin doesn’t comment. He just gathers that extra bit of strength he needs to swallow.
Brian falls asleep soon after that and Justin continues looking at him from his place by the window.
This has to be the last fucking time. He can’t do it another. This has to work now.
Things have to change. Some things need to be changed. Justin knows that.
But so does Brian.
Characters: Brian/Justin
Timeframe: post-513
Genre: angst, bit of schmoop, sickness
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,300
Prompt: 021. Fragile (from my fanfic50 table)
But So Does
by sakesushimaki
The last time Justin breaks up with Brian, he does it over the phone. It’s shitty and immature. But so is Brian. It hurts and leaves him miserable for weeks. But so does Brian.
Brian doesn’t fight, of course -- for everything else, against everything else, but never for them.
Justin fucks and drinks like there’s no tomorrow. Unfortunately there is, however, and people at work start asking. Melvin slips him an AA schedule, Tonya throws him worried glances all day from the next desk, and JJ asks for advice on where to buy decent coke.
He celebrates his 25th birthday on the couch watching anime movies. He never gets these movies but that night, he finds that the ghost-guy from Spirited Away who gets blacker and bigger must have taken residency in his own chest.
That night, he decides to stop seeking distraction in asses and booze. He calls Daphne in Pittsburgh at 3am and tells her he’s finally willing to talk. She only bitches about the time for a minute before she clicks on the coffee maker and listens to him till well past 4. He finally tells her that what hurts the most is Brian’s non-reaction.
The few tears that come gush in angry speed down his face. They don’t give him any relief, they don’t give him any hope.
But so doesn’t Brian.
+
The call comes two months later when he’s finally starting to get himself together again. Clearly, life doesn’t care for timing. But so doesn’t Brian.
He doesn’t look like himself. He looks weak, thin, not quite alive. Justin doesn’t trust the beep of the machines and feels his wrist just to be sure. Brian hates being watched while he sleeps but Justin doesn’t give a fuck right now. So he does just that for two hours.
When Brian wakes up, the first thing he does is frown at the tubes stuck in his hand. Then he sees Justin.
They stare at each other for a while in silence. Justin’s eyes and throat hurt with unshed tears and unsaid words.
“Why did you…? How did you let it come so far?” he croaks.
Brian doesn’t say anything. He looks away. He lifts his hand, feels his temple and the bandage there.
Brian was at work when it happened. He collapsed right in the middle of a meeting. He hit his head on his desk when he sank to the floor. Cynthia was shaking like jello when she told Justin how it went down. How Brian went down. How his eyes rolled back in his head and his legs gave out.
Justin hopes she didn’t notice, but he was shaking, too, listening.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” he says now, hours later, hands more or less under control again. “Why would you be so stupid?”
Brian looks him in the eye again. “You weren’t there to stop me.”
It hurts like hell. It makes him angrier more. “You asshole.”
According to the doctor, Brian has been doing his best ignoring his sickness. It started with a fucking cold, a cold, and Brian ran himself half-dead because he refused to give in. He refused until his body decided for him and shut off.
“I hope Debbie gave you hell.”
Knowing Brian, he’s probably been avoiding her for a while.
“She’s waiting for me to get a bit better before she gives it to me.”
They’re silent again for a while and it strikes Justin as odd. He figured that whenever they saw each other again there would be talking, maybe fighting, but he didn’t expect this.
He shakes his head and looks down at the floor. He lifts his head again when Brian starts to speak.
“I… I thought it was something else.”
Justin tries to follow.
“I thought it was something bigger. I thought I would go in and a doctor would tell me to get my affairs in order or something.”
Justin feels nauseous. “You… you thought you were dying?” He’s not sure he can comprehend the thought.
Brian thought he was dying and didn’t contact him. Brian thought he was dying and didn’t do anything. He thought he was dying and didn’t fucking care.
“Are you okay?”
Justin snaps out of his thoughts and regrets that he’s so readable. “You’re the one attached to fucking feeding tubes, Brian.”
“I wanted to tell you. And then, when I woke up in that fucking ambulance, I thought it was too late.”
Brian’s eyes glaze over with something shining and painful. He lifts his hand to wipe away the weakness and an IV line comes loose.
Justin jumps from his chair to attach it again. Brian grabs his hand and Justin thinks the air is getting thinner. He reaches back with the other hand, pulls the chair closer. He needs to sit.
When he dares looking up at Brian, he finds him watching him. The rawness in Brian’s eyes scares Justin.
“I-”
“Don’t.” Justin shakes his head and then bends to bury it in Brian’s neck. Brian doesn’t even smell like himself at the moment.
“You know, though, right?”
Justin doesn’t answer and he feels the fingers around his curl more tightly.
“Justin?”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath and presses his face to Brian’s shoulder, against the fabric of the awful gown.
“Sometimes I don’t trust it,” he mumbles.
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
Justin looks up with a start and blinks at the nurse he didn’t hear knock. He doesn’t know what to say to her not-so sudden appearance. Luckily, she does.
“Mr. Kinney’s IVs need to be changed.”
“Right, sorry.” Justin stands but Brian doesn’t let go of his hand.
“Stay.”
“I should-“
“Stay. This will probably take all of five minutes.”
Justin looks at the nurse, who gives a small nod. He pushes the chair to the side, detaches Brian’s hand from his and walks over to the window. He feels Brian’s eyes bore into his skill but he tries to focus on other things.
The nurse gets to work.
“So,” Brian says, his tone changed. “I hear you’re telling everyone that you’re doing fine. How are you doing really?”
“What’s wrong with fine?”
“Justin. I know you. Fine is… bullshit.”
Justin sighs. It kind of is. “I work fifty-hour weeks. The job isn’t bad but it’s not what I want to do. I get little painting done and don’t even feel like it most of the time. I live with a roommate I don’t like, in a neighborhood I don’t like, in an apartment I don’t like, with a couch I hate.”
Brian frowns. “How long has this been going on?”
“A while.” It started long before the official break-up. Back when Brian barely called or emailed anymore because he decided that Justin was busy loving his life in New York. Back when Justin got tired of telling him differently.
Brian knows what Justin is saying. Justin can read it in his eyes. He can see the guilt forming and wonders how much of this transparency is drug-induced.
The nurse leaves and Justin stays by the window. The beeping of the machines gives their silence a rhythm.
“What happens now?”
“I’m sure they want to keep you here for a couple more days. Then, you-“
“I don’t mean that.”
Justin looks at Brian, tries to see. He thinks he finds what he’s looking for.
“It depends on you, Brian. Like it always has. What I want hasn’t changed. Not in the basic aspects. Not in seven years.”
Brian looks away then, down, his fingers fiddling with the linen. Justin isn’t sure he’s ever seen him this way.
“Yeah. Same here.”
Justin doesn’t comment. He just gathers that extra bit of strength he needs to swallow.
Brian falls asleep soon after that and Justin continues looking at him from his place by the window.
This has to be the last fucking time. He can’t do it another. This has to work now.
Things have to change. Some things need to be changed. Justin knows that.
But so does Brian.