Ficlet, And They Rode Off Into the Sunset.
I am alive, I swear. And to prove it, I've written a ficlet. Post 414-ish. It is unbeta'd, so please do tell me if there are problems around.
When Justin was seventeen, he was convinced that he and Brian were something special. He knew, more or less, that he and Brian were meant to declare their everlasting love for each other on a starry night with moonlight and roses and possibly fireworks, though probably if fireworks were going off, they wouldn’t be able to hear each other. They were meant to dance away the night in each other’s arms, like in all those Lifetime movies his mom watched. Sometimes when he was daydreaming in class, he’d think about his and Brian’s union under a rose-encrusted arbor. There was even a phase where he’d have dreams about being a male, blond version of Snow White, and Brian came along, gave him the kiss of life, and then they rode off into the sunset together, and lived happily ever after.
At twenty-one, Justin went home every night to an empty apartment and an empty bed, because he didn’t like taking tricks home with him. Though, said the nagging voice in his head, he wasn’t actually at home, LA wasn’t home, because Brian wasn’t around complaining about how much Ted screwed up today at work, Brian wasn’t shaving in the bathroom, Brian wasn’t sleeping on the left side of the bed like he always did. It sounded really lesbian to think that his home was wherever Brian was, but he had to admit that he was really fucking lonely.
Justin liked to imagine, when he was feeling weird and homesick, that Brian would take off work on a Wednesday just to greet him at the airport when Justin got back from LA. Justin would drop his bags, run into Brian’s arms and Brian would whirl him around in the air, like in those romantic comedies that Daphne made him sit through, and maybe the piano music (because Brian hated violins) would swell just then, and they’d kiss madly, and fuck all the little five year olds and the gasping women and the citizens of Pittsburgh.
The day Justin actually got back, there wasn’t anyone waiting for him at the airport, and he had to take a taxi home instead of riding in Brian’s penis euphemism. In a romance novel Daph had described to him once, the entire room was filled with roses when the heroine of the tale came home. To tell the truth, he hadn’t been expecting such an outpouring of love, but a note would have been nice. Brian had gotten a new duvet though, Justin noticed before he fell asleep on the bed. He woke up early the next morning to discover that he was about to drool on Brian’s shoulder, and Brian’s eyes were open and looking at him amusedly. He grinned back, and Brian kissed him slowly, and Justin suddenly remembered that they hadn’t been in the same bed for two months. He rolled on top of Brian, still kissing him, and when Justin pulled away to catch his breath, Brian laughed and said, “Welcome back, Sunshine.”
Justin always knew that he and Brian were something special. They were special because they weren’t two heterosexuals getting married, having two point four children that they yelled at all the time, drifting away from each other and sleeping in different bedrooms. They weren’t even a couple of homos who journeyed to Massachusetts to get their marriage licenses and came home with plans to buy a house in the suburbs and adopt children from third world countries. He and Brian weren’t meant to consummate their mystical union in a field full of pollen-less flowers (because sneezing while being fucked wasn’t very sexy). So they didn’t, and instead lived happily ever after in a way entirely their own.
End. Feedback is much appreciated.
When Justin was seventeen, he was convinced that he and Brian were something special. He knew, more or less, that he and Brian were meant to declare their everlasting love for each other on a starry night with moonlight and roses and possibly fireworks, though probably if fireworks were going off, they wouldn’t be able to hear each other. They were meant to dance away the night in each other’s arms, like in all those Lifetime movies his mom watched. Sometimes when he was daydreaming in class, he’d think about his and Brian’s union under a rose-encrusted arbor. There was even a phase where he’d have dreams about being a male, blond version of Snow White, and Brian came along, gave him the kiss of life, and then they rode off into the sunset together, and lived happily ever after.
At twenty-one, Justin went home every night to an empty apartment and an empty bed, because he didn’t like taking tricks home with him. Though, said the nagging voice in his head, he wasn’t actually at home, LA wasn’t home, because Brian wasn’t around complaining about how much Ted screwed up today at work, Brian wasn’t shaving in the bathroom, Brian wasn’t sleeping on the left side of the bed like he always did. It sounded really lesbian to think that his home was wherever Brian was, but he had to admit that he was really fucking lonely.
Justin liked to imagine, when he was feeling weird and homesick, that Brian would take off work on a Wednesday just to greet him at the airport when Justin got back from LA. Justin would drop his bags, run into Brian’s arms and Brian would whirl him around in the air, like in those romantic comedies that Daphne made him sit through, and maybe the piano music (because Brian hated violins) would swell just then, and they’d kiss madly, and fuck all the little five year olds and the gasping women and the citizens of Pittsburgh.
The day Justin actually got back, there wasn’t anyone waiting for him at the airport, and he had to take a taxi home instead of riding in Brian’s penis euphemism. In a romance novel Daph had described to him once, the entire room was filled with roses when the heroine of the tale came home. To tell the truth, he hadn’t been expecting such an outpouring of love, but a note would have been nice. Brian had gotten a new duvet though, Justin noticed before he fell asleep on the bed. He woke up early the next morning to discover that he was about to drool on Brian’s shoulder, and Brian’s eyes were open and looking at him amusedly. He grinned back, and Brian kissed him slowly, and Justin suddenly remembered that they hadn’t been in the same bed for two months. He rolled on top of Brian, still kissing him, and when Justin pulled away to catch his breath, Brian laughed and said, “Welcome back, Sunshine.”
Justin always knew that he and Brian were something special. They were special because they weren’t two heterosexuals getting married, having two point four children that they yelled at all the time, drifting away from each other and sleeping in different bedrooms. They weren’t even a couple of homos who journeyed to Massachusetts to get their marriage licenses and came home with plans to buy a house in the suburbs and adopt children from third world countries. He and Brian weren’t meant to consummate their mystical union in a field full of pollen-less flowers (because sneezing while being fucked wasn’t very sexy). So they didn’t, and instead lived happily ever after in a way entirely their own.
End. Feedback is much appreciated.