Flash! Bam! Alakazam!
Title: Flash! Bam! Alakazam!
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Matt
Summary: This one might be heaven-sent, Matt, so don't screw it up!
Disclaimer: The only thing here that is mine is the plot. I do not intend to besmirch any actual people, whom I also don't own. The title belongs to Nat King Cole from "Orange Colored Sky."
No matter how cliché it is, how many times it is said, there is one axiom that knocks you into place at least once in your life:
What goes up, must come down.
And then of course, there are all the technicalities of how far up you got, and how far you'll fall, blah, blah, blah. Matt, of course, wouldn't appreciate such a fine allegory at a time like this.
He stared in total disbelief at his cell phone. Disbelief is probably an understatement, because his jaw might as well have been at his feet.
Hey, it's Brian, I'm about to board a plane. It's kinda an emergency and I can't talk about it yet. I won't be back for awhile, so-
The rest had cut out.
Brian was gone.
Matt wasn't sure how long he stayed in the position he did. The cell phone would've been the easiest thing to look at: paint cans were scattered throughout the house on big plastic coverings. Blue tape, the little reminders of the last two months. There were strands of measuring tape, and his lover's clothes, bags of groceries still unpacked.
Of course, Matt should've seen this one coming. Brian had been more and more reclusive, spending more time apart from Matt. The passion between them was searing hot at times, and then cold as fish at others. All the wonderful things that had happened to Matt - promotion, better home, etc. - meant nothing without the man who had boosted Matt up.
He immediately called Brian, but the phone had already been disconnected.
Matt tried to shake it off long enough to look on Brian's new and improved website for any clue he could find. The site merely said, “On hiatus.” He couldn't believe it. He called Leana, in case she had heard anything from her client.
“No, I'm sorry,” she said. “He just asked to suspend the site indefinitely.”
Matt felt his heart drop a little, but wouldn't give up. He called around to Brian's other places of work, but no one had any new information. “He quit,” and “I'm not sure, I think he took a leave of absence,” were the responses, to be precise.
Brian had really disappeared; Matt was getting desperate.
He called in sick that day, and went to Brian's apartment. His key didn't work, to his astonishment, so he went right down to the super. After five knocks on the door, it opened and a woman with a squat face and long body opened the door.
“Can I help you?” she asked cheerily. The bun of yellow hair bobbed on top of her head as she spoke.
“Do you know where Brian Haner went?” Matt asked in a low, urgent voice.
“Uhmmm....I think he went out of state, but I'm not sure,” her voice squeaking like wet shoes on linoleum, “I forget what he told me, but he paid the last rent and moved out.”
“Did he leave a number?”
“No. Sorry,” she said with a shrug. Matt stormed off without a “thank you” or “goodbye.” What a daft woman. Didn't she know that the sky was falling?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Matt
Summary: This one might be heaven-sent, Matt, so don't screw it up!
Disclaimer: The only thing here that is mine is the plot. I do not intend to besmirch any actual people, whom I also don't own. The title belongs to Nat King Cole from "Orange Colored Sky."
No matter how cliché it is, how many times it is said, there is one axiom that knocks you into place at least once in your life:
What goes up, must come down.
And then of course, there are all the technicalities of how far up you got, and how far you'll fall, blah, blah, blah. Matt, of course, wouldn't appreciate such a fine allegory at a time like this.
He stared in total disbelief at his cell phone. Disbelief is probably an understatement, because his jaw might as well have been at his feet.
Hey, it's Brian, I'm about to board a plane. It's kinda an emergency and I can't talk about it yet. I won't be back for awhile, so-
The rest had cut out.
Brian was gone.
Matt wasn't sure how long he stayed in the position he did. The cell phone would've been the easiest thing to look at: paint cans were scattered throughout the house on big plastic coverings. Blue tape, the little reminders of the last two months. There were strands of measuring tape, and his lover's clothes, bags of groceries still unpacked.
Of course, Matt should've seen this one coming. Brian had been more and more reclusive, spending more time apart from Matt. The passion between them was searing hot at times, and then cold as fish at others. All the wonderful things that had happened to Matt - promotion, better home, etc. - meant nothing without the man who had boosted Matt up.
He immediately called Brian, but the phone had already been disconnected.
Matt tried to shake it off long enough to look on Brian's new and improved website for any clue he could find. The site merely said, “On hiatus.” He couldn't believe it. He called Leana, in case she had heard anything from her client.
“No, I'm sorry,” she said. “He just asked to suspend the site indefinitely.”
Matt felt his heart drop a little, but wouldn't give up. He called around to Brian's other places of work, but no one had any new information. “He quit,” and “I'm not sure, I think he took a leave of absence,” were the responses, to be precise.
Brian had really disappeared; Matt was getting desperate.
He called in sick that day, and went to Brian's apartment. His key didn't work, to his astonishment, so he went right down to the super. After five knocks on the door, it opened and a woman with a squat face and long body opened the door.
“Can I help you?” she asked cheerily. The bun of yellow hair bobbed on top of her head as she spoke.
“Do you know where Brian Haner went?” Matt asked in a low, urgent voice.
“Uhmmm....I think he went out of state, but I'm not sure,” her voice squeaking like wet shoes on linoleum, “I forget what he told me, but he paid the last rent and moved out.”
“Did he leave a number?”
“No. Sorry,” she said with a shrug. Matt stormed off without a “thank you” or “goodbye.” What a daft woman. Didn't she know that the sky was falling?