Mingled Masks - 3/?
Title: Mingled Masks
Pairing: Brian/Stefan, Brian/other
Rating: Taste In Man
Genre: angst/comfort
Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine. I don't make any profit these stories.
Summary: Brian falls in love with a fan, but things don't really turn out the way he had intended them to.
Previous chapters: chapter 1, chapter 2
I hope you'll like it. ^_^
The London gig went great and Brian had seen him, the boy of his dreams, the one who haunted his every footstep. The slight swing of the hips, the extra long drag of his cigarette, the way he exhaled the smoke, his fingers touching his lips afterwards where the ciggie had left a tingling feeling. It had all been for him. When he had reached out his hand while singing, it had been to him. The wink to the fans, he hoped that the boy knew it had been aimed at him. He hoped that the smile on his lips told his unspoken words to every one who was willing to listen. His actions, every one of them a little finer than they used to be, they spoke for themselves. He was happy. He had seen him again as he had hoped. His dreams would be sweet again and the torment gone. If only he knew how to contact him, this angel on earth.
The shower afterwards was refreshing. Soap streamed over his face and sweaty body. He touched himself, pinched his nipples, fantasized the boy was kissing him. He swore softly as he felt himself coming, beat the wall with his fist in anger. He decided to turn the water down and saw how it disappeared, mingled with foam, into the small hole. Bubbles broke, but his dream not yet. Not yet.
He jumped a little as he felt a naked body pressing against him from behind. He leaned against it, his head on the other’s chest.
“You are cold,” Stef said calmly, wrapping his arms around Brian, who stretched his neck and felt butterfly kisses being planted. A hand wandered over his body and rested on his belly, moving up and down in rhythm with his speeding breathing.
“Stef,” he whispered huskily.
Brian shivered as the body left him to his surroundings, but it didn’t last long. A large towel was wrapped around him. Droplets were trickling from his hair down his neck. Stef was once again behind him, his head resting on top of Brian’s, whispering sweet nothings, trying to put his friend’s mind at ease. And then he was gone, taking a shower himself, but he knew Brian was left with a smile on his lips.
He wasn’t looking forward to going outside. Would they scream?, he wondered. They did that often. He hated it. he didn’t want to smile because they wanted him to, he didn’t want to put on make-up because they thought it made him look pretty and he didn’t feel like putting his autograph on his face over and over again. He wondered if his voice wasn’t enough. It never was. They wanted him completely. They wanted to devour him like he lusted after the boy. Lust, he questioned himself, or is it more than a primal urge, perhaps deeper, perhaps a stirring butterfly about to open its wings for the first time, perhaps love? He would brave them, he decided, no more escape. His curiosity was picked, that tiny flame that wouldn’t hear of dying out, that little bit of hope.
They screamed out their undying love for him, just like he had feared. For a second he doubted if this was what he really wanted, to step outside, to show them his face. It was Steve who first left the building. Brian heard the screams growing louder. They rang in his ears. He heard Steve utter a few words, asking if they had enjoyed the show. Brian’s feet were tied to his spot. He felt Stef touch his arm and a hot breath near his ear.
“Calm down, I’m standing next to you,” Stef whispered. And with a shove in his back, Brian was outside, paralysed by the sound, the arms reaching for him as he walked down the stairs. Stef was right behind him, his friend who looked out for him. He scanned the crowds rapidly, trying to make them out from the dark. He searched for one face in particular, but didn’t find it. He sighed and wished the whole thing to be over. Why bother, he thought, if the boy wasn’t here.
“The second row, close to the hedge,” he heard Stef whisper. With reluctance he looked up, wondering what was so special to Stef to catch his attention. But then he saw it too and a warm feeling spread throughout his body. His boy had come.
He wanted to jump into Stef’s arms. A smile was flashing on his face. He was beaming. He felt giddy. He was deaf to the world as his shining creature noticed him and smiled in return. Perhaps, he thought, the evening wasn’t so bad after all.
~*~
He signed the tickets willingly and answered the questions patiently. He didn’t shrink as they tugged at his arm, wanting him to be on a picture with them. He welcomed the kisses on his cheek, just like he welcomed Stef occasionally brushing against him. He kept his lips even, moved them only for the questions, but they’d fall back in their firm place. There was no emotion on his face, safe for his eyes. Despite their dullness, a faint glimmer appeared every time he watched the boy. He tried to move his lips into a smile, but failed, not even for him.
The boy stood out from the crowd. He wasn’t as wild as the others, to the contrary he waited for his turn calmly, as if he knew that his turn would come and what it promised. Brian reached for the picture the boy was holding, and watched it closely. He recognized himself. It had been years. He had been so young, so naïve, but lost of every innocent spark. He had lived too fast, too roughly. Sometimes he regretted it. But seeing the young man in front of him, he knew that they wouldn’t have stood here together if history had been different. He felt the smile, but didn’t show it. A quick glance at his band mates and he knew he had to hurry.
Brian leaned over, closer to the boy’s ear, and whispered something which made both blush. He felt stupid afterwards, damning his rushed actions. They had told him often enough he was far too impulsive. He had always shrugged it off, telling them it balanced with his height. It would cause a snicker that died away too soon, showing their unease around him. The press always said he was cold, but it was just his outer face. They didn’t know him as they claimed to do. Inside he cringed at the hurting comments and the colder he’d become, the sharper his comments would get and the more upset he’d feel. It was a vicious circle and he didn’t know how to escape its descending spiral.
He handed the picture back, black marker all over it where it had supposed to be his name. Too tired to think and write straight. Always too late to be straight. He hated the word and its narrow-mindedness, always claiming to be the right possibility. But he knew he wasn’t an icon either. People shouldn’t take him as an example. He felt too insecure for that and felt too responsible for their mistakes based on his. They thought they were cool, but they weren’t. They simply copied the mask he had so carefully constructed. They loved a ghost.
He said his goodbyes and turned his back to the fans. His shadow flickered in front of him. He heard the last photo’s being taken with too strong flashes. He ran a little, hurrying to catch up with his friends. Stef threw his arm around his waist and pulled him close. Brian knew it was to reassure him, but the wicked grin also spoke of a treat to the fans. When he entered the bus, the last flashes went out and they drove off.