Episode 6.01 - Part ONE (revised)
*** Story takes off two months after the “wedding cancelling” and Justin’s departure. ***
“Today is a good day,” Brian thinks to himself, positively surprised.
The nearly scalding hot water of his morning shower had fully unfolded its healing powers of washing away. The - at least in the mornings - all present feeling of crushing realization, that this was just another day on which he woke up alone, thankfully failed to hit him today. Also, Brian had successfully blocked out all fantasies about morning showers in which a certain someone participated. Yeah, it was a good day. Maybe this was the day. The day on which he could forget. No, not forget, more like draw a line and finally see himself standing under it.
Feeling a nice surge of power rush through him for a change, Brian puts a towel around his waist and steps out of the shower and into the bedroom. Mentally going through his schedule for the day, he keeps his mind busy. That’s the key, keeping busy. He figured that out weeks ago. The tricky thing about it is, as soon as you have just a little room up there, you’re done for. It all comes crashing down on you. But not today, nuh-uh, not today. Because today is a good day.
Furthermore, ignore possible triggers. Yeah, that one can also prove a bit difficult since you find reminders in almost everything. A paintbrush or blond hair for obvious reasons, but also completely random things, something that catches you by surprise or occurs unexpectedly and somehow you make a connection in your head and it leads you right back to him. Sometimes it feels like walking on a mine field all day long. No, today he wouldn’t let himself be drawn into this, because today was a good day.
While he walks out of the shower and repeats today’s presentation concept for what seems to be the fiftieth time, Brian hears his cell phone ringing. Brian’s side of the phone conversation consists only of a few comments. “Yah? … Yes. … I really don’t care if it doesn’t pay off. … Okay.” The last part is spoken very impassively and diffusely.
Brian disconnects the call, lies down on the bed and stares up at the ceiling, repeating the call in his mind.
“Mr. Kinney, this is Darren Rogers from the estate company. Concerning the object you put on the market. … I’ve found a few potential buyers, only it seems like nobody is willing to pay the price we originally set up. The current highest bid for the object is only slightly higher than what you paid. … Well, it’s your call, Mr. Kinney. In that case it shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ll see you next week to set the contracts. … Have a nice day.”
“Yeah, you too, fucker,” Brian angrily puffs out. He dejectedly rolls over and lies flat on his stomach.
This is so not a good day.
□□□
At the Novotny-Bruckner-household things are taking their usual course. It is a typical weeks evening. Ben and Michael are seated at the living room area, both reading their respective magazines, when the telephone rings. Hunter comes running down the stairs and into the kitchen to answer it.
“Yo?”
“That how you youngsters answer the phone these days?” Justin mocks half-heartedly. He is standing in the arrival lounge at the airport.
“Well if it isn’t Mr. Artsy-Fartsy!”
“Very nice, retard, now put Michael on!” Justin shoots back.
“Eeeasy. First I want to know about the big peach,” Hunter pushes on.
Justin is getting pissed. “It’s “apple”, genius! Now pass the fucking phone to Michael!”
“Jeez, relax. I’ll get him. Hey Michael, some guy wants to sell you something. Want me to get rid of him?”
Michael, who has been watching or more like listening to Hunter’s side of the conversation, takes over the phone. “Give it here, smartass. Hello?”
Happy and relieved to hear the voice, Justin answers, “Hey, Michael! It’s Justin. I’m calling from L.A.”
“Heyyy, I’m so glad to hear you! How - wait, did you say L.A.?” Mikey throws in.
“Yup, I’m at the airport. Security lines are endless and I figured I let you know what’s going on since I’ve got approximately 15 minutes until I get felt up, not in the good way, as I might add. Anyhow, I’m on my way to Brett. He called a few days ago, asking me if I would like to help him convincing a bunch of new producers to reconsider “Rage” as a film project.”
“Wow, that’s - that’s good, I guess?”
To let Mikey know that there was no reason to feel excluded, Justin adds, “Don’t be pissed he didn’t call you. It’s just that he wants me to revise a few storyboards and I didn’t want you to put any false hope into this. I don’t believe Brett will ever go through with his visions or whatever he used to call it.” Justin gives a huffed laugh at the end.
“Right. Then why’d you agree to go, if it’s for no good?” Mikey already senses some sort of trouble coming up.
Justin hesitates a little and stutters, “Well I… I just… just thought it would be good to be out of NY for a little while. Get my head clear and stuff, you know.”
Mikey tries to play it understanding, when in fact he has no clue what’s going on with Justin. “Yeah sure… Wow, we haven’t spoken in at least a month. Tell me, what’s up with you and the world of art? Already getting your bite out of the apple? Starting to forget good old Pitts?”
“Well, the whole scene is great. Days fly by and work just goes amazingly easy off hand and - and…” He ends his rambling and puffs heavily into the phone.
Mikey doesn’t know how to reciprocate at that and tries a “That sounds great, I mean -”
“It’s bullshit, Michael! It’s fucking bullshit!” Justin angrily cuts him off.
“Okay… did I miss something?” Michael asks clueless, unsure as to what he said.
“Fuck, Michael… I couldn’t stand it there! I haven’t finished one fucking piece! The gallery owners are pissed and everyone - including myself, by the way - thinks I’m a big fat pretender or a loser in general more like.”
Mikey rounds the kitchen counter to block out Ben and Hunter’s view and asks in a lower and concerned voice, “But what’s wrong? I thought you were going to be a star or something, following your dreams.”
“You and - so it seems - everyone I know! It’s so fucking frustrating! God, I’m so… burned out for whateverthefuck reason! Well, of course not ANY reason. Dammit, Michael,” Justin finishes, both desperate and angry
“Do you mind me assuming that this “low” of yours has got anything to do with Brian?”
Justin doesn't answer.
“Well, I guess that means yes,” Michael concludes.
“Of fucking course it does! All I can think about revolves around him and when I finally have my mind off, it somehow manages to wander back towards him! It’s awful! I mean, just last week. I went down the fruit market next to my street and nearly every fucking fruit reminded me of Brian! How sick is that? Strawberries - Brian loves them. Kiwi - Brian’s allergic to them. Bananas - well, I guess that goes without explanation. Mango - again Brian! What the fuck does mango have to do with him anyway?”
Mikey starts to giggle at that and comes back with “Well, they both can taste kind of bitter and when you try to peel them -”
Justin angrily cuts him off again. “Thanks so much for this contribution, Michael! … Sorry, didn’t mean to be bitchy. I’m really sorry.”
Michael takes pity on him. “It’s ok, that probably wasn’t my best lecture of comparison.”
“You see, I’m about to go out of my fucking mind! That supposed to be the major reason I accepted Brett’s offer without hesitating. And the worst thing is, that I don’t have the slightest idea where we stand… I mean, it was quite obvious that we were not going to do a distance-relationship kind of thing, but somehow I guess I just hoped… Ah, forget it! Immediately! It is better this way! And don’t you dare tell him anything, Mikey, or anyone!” Justin imitates a threat poorly.
Mikey rolls his eyes. “Yeah okay, I won’t tell on anyone.”
Justin doesn’t seem satisfied. “Michael? Swear it! On Marilyn! Better yet, on Sugar!”
Ah, that’s more like it. Justin seems to know what keeps Mikey’s mouth shut after all.
Sure enough, a puff comes over the line. “Fine. I swear on Marilyn aka Sugar I will not tell anyone - especially not Brian - that you miss him like hell and that he is all you can think about all day long and you even lost your artistic superpowers due to this tormenting feeling in your heart!”
“God, you’re such a drama queen!” Justin laughs. “Thanks, Mikey. Take care of yourself and give my love to Ben and your little brat. Oh, and to JR of course!”
“You take care too, Boy Wonder. And make sure I won’t be waiting this long for your next call.”
“I promise. Bye, Mikey. Thanks again for listening to my bitching.”
“Anytime. Have a good trip!”
Mikey hangs up the phone and pours himself a glass of water while mumbling, “… hate being in the middle.”
Ben enters the kitchen area, startling Michael. “Everything okay there? Justin calling from New York?”
“Uh yeah, exactly.” Mikey tries to avoid the conversation by keeping himself extremely busy by ruffling through the cabinets, searching for nothing in particular of course.
Ben, sensing that his expectant look is obviously not enough to get Michael to talk, asks further, “So? What’d he say? Everything all right?”
“Yeah sure, he’s doing just fine. Great, to be honest. In fact, it couldn’t be alrightier!” Poor Mikey, he couldn’t even play unaffected right now if his life depended on it. And still he’s rummaging through the cabinets in search of the mysterious object.
Ben laughs at the lame act. “You’ve never been a good liar.” He kisses Mikey on the cheek. “So what’s up with this “being in the middle” thing?”
“Oh that… nothing.” Oh look, he found it! It’s a… another glass?
To Mikey’s relief, his cell phone rings and he hurries to the living room to answer it. “Hey, what’s up? … Sure. … 10 to 15 minutes. … Yeah, all right.”
He hangs up and sighs, “Great. Now I can go and play the shrink for the other one. Only this is the way less cooperative one! Oof, that’s exactly what I meant with “being in the middle”!” He grabs his jacket and proceeds somewhat angrily, “And why do both of them always make me swear on Marilyn? Don’t you dare tell Justin, Mikey! Swear you don’t tell Brian!” He imitates the threats. “So not fair!”
Ben watches amusedly as his partner grabs the car keys and heads out the door. Five seconds later, Mikey comes back with a grin on his face. “Love you.” He kisses Ben goodbye. “I’ll be back soon, considering he sounded like he’s already had a couple of drinks. Bye!”
□□□
At Woody’s, Brian is slouching over the bar staring at a line of empty glasses in front of him.
Booze has always been good to him, calming and centering. Yet again, his well established methods of dealing with pain prove to work efficiently. The only unfortunate side effect of the liquor method is the fact that from time to time it lets the stashed away emotions bubble up, which of course is quite counterproductive given the reason he does drink. Silly booze. Fortunately, Brian also figured out that a certain amount more makes him numb, inside and outside. This is what he’s going for tonight, what he’s been going for for the last two months.
Some sort of pattern has been developing through this. When he would find himself getting all depressed and longing for Justin, he would give Mikey a call before he drinks on. This way, his best friend would be there to get him home when he reached the peak of his drunkenness, yearning for that glorious state of numbness. Tonight though, as Michael walks in, Brian is not quite there yet.
Mikey, though knowing the drill, walks up to Brian and tries a cheery “Hi, B-“
“You know what day it is?!” Brian interrupts. He seems angry but somehow buried in thought as he plays around with the empty glasses around him.
“Uhm… Thursday, I think,” Mikey answers, not sure where this is going.
Brian looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “What? No! I wouldn’t fucking care if it was Saturday either!”
Michael sighs. He is sick of being clueless and pushes, “Okay come on, Brian. Tell me how I’m missing the point here.”
Brian speaks in a lower voice, partly slurring. “Exactly three months ago, I asked Ju- … I asked him to marry me… in the house I bought exactly three months and four days ago… and now…” That’s where he gets loud and angry again “- or better, 10 hours ago - this asshole Rogers called, informing me that obviously, he found some po-fucking-tential buyers for our house! I mean my h- …you know.” He drains another drink and slams the empty glass down on the counter. “…Sussh’n asshole!”
“Well, you hired him.” Mikey shrugs.
“Fuck yeah, I did! And now he’s taking it away. The last reminder of Kinney’s pathetic marriage episode. I’ll drink to that!” He holds another glass up and drains it in one gulp. Doing that, he bends back dramatically, almost falling off the chair. But his best friend is there, steadying him, and taking the empty glass out of Brian’s hand.
“Jesus Brian, you’re totally wasted,” Mikey remarks concernedly while supporting Brian.
Brian grimaces at him. “Am nooot!”
Mikey takes a deep breath to calm himself before sitting down on the barstool next to Brian. He hates the situation. Brian and Justin are both suffering and too stubborn to do something about it. Brian’s revised self-destruction technique was more than unhealthy and while Justin is surely finding a better way to deal and get over it eventually, his best friend here is still drowning. It’s time for Brian to start dealing with this in other ways than drinking himself into oblivion three times a week. And as his best friend, Mikey feels obligated to push him in that exact direction.
He thinks about how he could start and begins, “But you know what, maybe that’s not such a bad thing with the house selling and everything… clean break, put a line under all this, move on. Starting with getting rid of the last obvious reminders.” Well that didn’t sound too bad, did it? Yeah, Mikey is sure, Brian could work with that.
Only Brian doesn’t seem all that convinced. “Tchaaahh… only problem there is Mikey,” he dramatically holds up his hand. “It isn’t!”
“Wh-?”
“It is not the last reminder! Not at all! I’ve been having these little flashback things, ya know? N’matter where I go. It’s just so damn….”
“Painful?” Mikey puts his hand on Brian’s shoulder.
Brian murmurs, “More like annoying.”
Mikey dismisses him sarcastically, “Yeah, right.”
“Stop giving me that fucking “I know about your real feelings”-kind of smile! Well, whatever. It’s better this way," Brian resigns.
“I’ve heard that one before.”
“Wellll, since I assume you have to go home to your wife, I guess I’m hitting my playground alone tonight?” In Brian’s world, heavy drinking goes hand in hand with heavy tricking. At least most of the time.
“The hell you will!”
Brian lights up, caused by false assumptions. “You’re coming with me, Mikey? I knew it turns you on to tell everyone you’re the owner’s best friend,” Brian laughs drunkenly.
“Actually I… I really have to get home, but -“
“How pathetic!” Brian grabs the next glass but before he can fully get it up, Mikey snags it away from him to present an angry glare.
Brian smiles sheepishly at him and starts to form the word “pathetic” again when Michael interrupts him furiously.
“Will you shut the fuck up? It’s not pathetic! And when will you stop this shit and start admitting that this bitching of yours is resulting from you missing Justin?! And to put it in drama queen, because you love him more than anything and cannot live without him and don’t want to move on!”
Brian just stares, not showing any emotion.
Mikey exhales dejectedly and helps him up. “Now come on, big guy. You’ve had enough. I’m driving you home.”
□□□
Justin feels exhausted, waiting for his suitcase at the baggage claim. Flying usually doesn’t bother him, but today it was torture. The phone call to Michael was supposed to lift his mood a bit, but it hadn’t really worked. Not much longer than for five minutes anyway.
Sleeping during the flight wasn’t really an option, the risk of where his dreams might take him too high, even though he could well use a few hours of sleep. The nightly rest doesn’t come as easily these days as it used to. He doesn’t even know when it started, this insomnia thing. Well, who was he fooling? It started two months ago. Pretty much exactly two months. Additionally, it was the whole plane situation that bothered him. It’s hard to not look out of the window when you have the window seat and there’s no way you could prevent your mind from wandering off when you’re staring out into the sky. Quite a nice thing actually, but in his particular case it was not. In conclusion, the only thing to do was watching the lame in-flight entertainment. Lucky him, he now knows all the safety instructions by heart and has a firm grasp on “Fun with Dick & Jane” since they showed it on the flight from New York to Chicago as well as on the connection flight to Los Angeles. Above that, he doesn’t even like Jim Carrey.
All this results in him draining what was his fourth Latte today. Another recently developed habit aside from walking around barefoot and drinking guava juice. But Justin refuses to think about his newly acquired passion for these things as he knows where this would lead eventually and inevitably.
And how long could it possibly take to unload the plane from a few suitcases and drop them on a conveyor belt, for Christ’s sake?
Anxious to do something, anything, he decides to let his mom know what’s going on. “Hi, M- … What? Debbie told you? But how? I mean, so quickly? I just talked to Michael not an hour ago! … Yes, I am doing fine! I’m just taking a break from New York, just a few weeks and then I’ll get back! … Yes, I’m eating enough. … No, I haven’t spoken to Brian and I plan on leaving it this way! … Mother, it’s none of your business, remember?”
He sees his suitcase coming along and tries to get to the conveyor belt.
“Mom, this is sort of a bad time right now. I have to -”
He picks up his suitcase and drops it accidentally. “Fuck! … Sorry, Mom. … Look, I really gotta - … No don’t put Molly on, I really have no - Oh hey, Molly! How are you? … That’s nice. Keep that up, right? … Yes, I’ll send you a postcard. … I’ll also get you an autograph from that Harry Potter guy. … And if he’s not there I’m gonna fly to London and get you one, ok? Now would you please put mom back on? Bye, love you. … Mom? Yes. … I really have to go. … Mom, I’m 22! Would you please - Yes, I’ll call you twice a week. … I’m hanging uhuup! … Love you too.”
Justin hangs up and hurries towards the exit. He recognizes Brett’s limousine and also the driver who’s waiting for him.
The driver smiles and greets, “Good evening, Mr. Taylor. Nice to have you back. Straight to Mr. Keller’s guest house?”
“Thanks, Sidney. And yes, please.” The driver takes Justin’s suitcase and heaves it into the trunk while his passenger moves to get into the limo.
Sidney manoeuvres the car out of the parking lot and initiates a light conversation. “Did you have a good flight?”
“Oh yes, thanks. First class is always nice. Unfortunately though, only female stewardesses on board,” Justin says. He figures, a shallow joke would do no harm and would get Sidney off his back in case he looks any bit as bad as he feels.
Sidney smiles at Justin in the rear-view mirror and inquires, “Do you want me to turn on the radio?”
“Sure, why not.” Justin leans back in the leather seat, closing his eyes.
“You can dance every dance with the guy who gives you the eye,
let him hold you tight…”
Justin opens his eyes slowly and murmurs, “Not that song. God, I can’t believe this.”
"But don't forget who's taking you home and in whose arms..."
Sidney looks worried into the rear-view mirror. “Something wrong, Mr. Taylor?”
“No no, it’s just - could you please change the station? Thanks.”
Justin leans against the window while he looks out, hoping the scenery would distract him. But no such luck. There it is again, the overwhelming rush of emotions, triggered by one single thing. He doesn’t even try to get his feelings in order right now, what it all means, why exactly he feels his world come crushing down on him once again. But this whole complexity of thoughts can be summed up in just one word. Brian. He wipes away a few tears that are threatening to fall. (*)
□□□
Sure enough, back home in Pittsburgh, the other part of the former dynamic duo lies sprawled out on the back seat of his car. He’s barely able to stay awake after his most current questionable attempt at drinking away the pain, while his best friend drives him home. Brian is too wasted to even call him on his poor handling of the ‘Vette’s clutch.
The moderator on the radio announces, “And now we have a music wish for our tonight’s special. The Drifters. Enjoy!”
“You can dance every dance with the guy who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight… But don’t forget who’s taking you home and in whose arms you’re gonna be - So darlin’ …”
Brian slurs from the backseat, “Pfff.. what issis? Some fucking kind ‘f teen drama?! … Issis -” He tries to sit up but fails and flops back down. “Is this ‘e moment where I realize hooow mussh I asshually miss him ‘n open up for aaall the feelins I triedo deny?” He brings his right hand up to the side of his face as if he’s holding a phone and imitates a phone call. “Oh Ashley, ‘s playin our song on ‘e raiio!” He laughs bitterly.
“…Baby don’t you know I love you so, can’t you feel it when we touch,
I will never ever let you go…”
Brian gets hit by a snippet of flashback. “Shit! Sshange ‘e fuck’n sashion!”
Mikey observes his friend worriedly through the rear-view mirror. “You all right?”
“O’ fucking course I‘m! Shussis corny, shupid song… Shus gemme home!”
The rest of the 10 minute ride is made in silence.
As they enter the loft, Mikey supports Brian’s tired body and helps him to the bedroom where he falls onto the bed. Mikey assists in undressing Brian and covers him with the blanket.
Brian turns onto his stomach and half asleep already, speaks in a surprisingly clear voice, “You were right, Mikey. It - It fucking hurts.” Michael wants to reciprocate, but at the exact moment he hears Brian mumble into the pillows, “I do miss him, you know I do.”
“I know.” Mikey bends down and gives Brian a kiss on the back of his head.
“’n Mikey, dontcha -“
“- tell Justin, I know.” He starts towards the door, fearing that if he doesn’t leave right now, he’ll say something he’d regret later. Or worse, do something to break his promise to Justin. It bothers him beyond description that they’re both miserable. What does it take for them to realize that they belong together ultimately? It’s a fucking YinYang thing; you can’t escape the cosmic laws!
Feeling a sudden force rush through him, he abruptly stops his stride. Maybe they just need to know that… Mikey turns on his heels and heads back to the bedroom.
“Brian, do you know that Justin -” But Brian is already fast asleep and snoring lightly.
Mikey exhales deeply, turns back and walks out of the loft.
□□□
(*) A/N: This was not Justin remembering the prom dance or anything. I just assume that he does know the song and has an emotional connection to it or something, since he’s heard it once at the very least - remember 202 when Brian and Daphne try to trigger his memory?
-> 6.01/part 2