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| basements. PAIRING: Brian/Justin RATING/TIMELINE: R/Alternate Universe SPOILERS: No ARCHIVE: Ridiculously & QAFVault.com LJ ARCHIVE: LJ Memories SUMMARY: He never expected college to be like this. (Back to Chapter 8)  chapter nine: hello my name is
distance. “This whole ‘it’s nothing’ thing is complete bullshit, man.” Greig laughs, tearing a piece of pizza out of it’s soggy cardboard box. Brian wrinkles his nose and hands him the dull knife that was earlier stolen from his cutlery drawer, but Greig just waves his hand and manages to push half of the piece into his mouth before he adds, “You dated each other for like, years in high school – and then you pretended he didn’t exist for three. Meeting at a party is supposed to be awkward and ridiculous, not spawn some sort of pseudo friendship.” Brian rolls his eyes and presses a paper towel into his slice of pizza, watches as the majority of the grease gets soaked up and then represses the urge to throw the slimy piece of heart attack at Greig’s face. Instead he snorts and says, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what we have – a friendship.” “I said pseudo.” Greig clarifies, like one word makes all of the difference, then throws the crust into the pizza box and wipes his hand on Brian’s couch. “Dude. He came to you and not Liam when his own father died. Come on.” Shrugging, Brian debates just handing over his slice of pizza to Greig because honestly he doesn’t feel like eating it anyway, brutally greasy coating or not. “Liam didn’t know Craig, he never met him. He doesn’t realize how big of a deal it was.” He says. Finally gives up and throws the slice of pizza back into the box and Greig sighs, leans over and pushes Brian’s shoulder with silent words that say ‘you’re completely full of bullshit and I know it.’ “My point exactly.” Is what he says instead. Brian snorts, rolls his eyes and asks, “What’s your point again?” and he can’t help the way that he’s already starting to sound tired of the conversation. Because truth be told, he is. He’s tired of this and the entire situation, tired of everything that Justin’s been doing lately because Brian just can’t figure it out. “My point is, he went to his ex instead of his boyfriend.” Greig explains, turns into the psychologist that Brian knows he isn’t as he reaches forward and takes another slice of pizza – makes a face at Brian’s degreased one. “Yeah, his ex who used to get in fights with his father bi-weekly.” Brian snorts, stretches his legs out and kicks Greig’s arm with a socked heel. Shrugging, Greig leans back and relaxes into the sofa, so Brian steals the remote and changes the channel on the television, knowing Greig never misses an episode of the Daily Show. Ever. “Just leave it alone, man. It’s nothing. I haven’t even talked to him lately.” Greig knocks Brian’s hand away and steals the remote back, so Brian kicks him again and tries not to start slapping when Greig laughs and asks, “Bullshit. Since when is two days ago ‘lately’?” “Fuck. Off.” “So when are you gonna see him again?” Lola asks, pulling her jacket on one arm at a time as Justin holds the door open for her, jumps down off of the step and directly into a lake sized puddle when she finally steps through. He laughs and pulls the legs of his pants up, but it’s too late because his ankles are already soaked. “I told him that I’d come over tonight. With illegal substances.” Snickering, Justin looks up at the sky and then sighs melodramatically. Lola rolls her eyes. “Fuck, I haven’t gotten high in forever.” “Hey, asshole! I made you those brownies a couple months ago.” Lola exclaims, slaps his arm to berate his apparent forgetfulness, but all Justin does is make a face and then take a step to the side so he can get away from her too-tough-for-a-tiny-person hands. “Yeah.” He snorts, and that gets him another punch as he jumps over a second puddle even though his pants are already wet. “The entire batch was shit except for like, one brownie that all the weed apparently went into. I hallucinated for a month after that. No wonder you’re a waitress, Lola. You’re a terrible cook.” Lola laughs and shoves him into the gutter on the road, so he gets her around the waist and then pulls her in after him, too. “Where the fuck are you going, you shit?” Brian asks, looking up from his position on the couch. He watches Greig pull his jacket on and make for the front door with only one shoe properly tied up. “Eat all my fucking food, drink all my booze, and then leave.” “I got a date tonight, man.” Grinning, Greig fixes the collar of his jacket so it doesn’t stick straight up in the back and make him look like a douche. “She’s totally hot, too.” “Always a plus.” Brian laughs, ducks behind the back of the couch when something that was in direct reach of Greig suddenly comes flying towards him. When he comes out of his brilliant hiding place, Brian realizes it’s only a shoe. “Fine, fuck you then. Leave me to my own devices. If you come back tomorrow and I’m dead, then it’ll be your fault.” “Bullshit. I know you. You’ll go out and either get yourself fucked up beyond recognition, or fuck someone else.” Rolling his eyes, Brian throws his middle finger up and says, “The hell I am. Fucking Justin is coming over.” He takes his drama queen moment of the day and falls back against the couch, sighs and looks as put out as Greig knows he isn’t. In fact, Greig starts laughing and has to stop buttoning his jacket up because he can’t see properly. “The fuck? What’s so funny?” “Yeah. You and Justin.” Greig snickers, and he has to hurry out the door and quickly close it behind him because the shoe comes flying back towards him, hits the back of the door just as he closes it. Brian can still hear him out in the hallway as he yells, “Just friends I’m sure!” “Hey. I’ve been waiting for you to get back.” Justin looks up and smiles, watches as Liam pushes himself up onto his elbows on the bed and smiles back at him, then makes sure the door is locked just because he’s overly paranoid like that. “When’d you get here?” Justin asks, moves over to the mattress and lets Liam kiss his throat as he toes his shoes off and kicks them under the bed. Shrugging, Liam slides his arms around Justin’s waist and kisses the middle of his chest, answers with, “An hour ago. Me and a couple of the other writers went out for some drinks cause we have to rewrite this entire scene. Budget problems.” “Yeah?” Justin asks, shrugs his jacket off and Liam raises his eyebrows when Justin pulls away to start going through his tiny closet. He pulls out a pair of pants that aren’t as soaked as the ones he’s wearing are, and an old hoodie. Liam leans back against the wall and watches. “You going somewhere?” Turning around, Justin smiles and shrugs, starts to undo his wet jeans with one hand. “Actually, yeah. I am.” “Yeah?” Liam asks, raises his eyebrows and smiles a little. “Where to?” Shrugging again, Justin peels his wet t-shirt off of his cold body and throws it onto the tiled floor. Lies through his teeth, says, “Me and Lola are gonna go over to one of her friend’s houses.” He smiles again and moves over to the bed, climbs onto it so he can crawl on top of Liam. “You know how it is.” Liam smiles too and Justin doesn’t feel as bad as he should. Brian doesn’t move from the couch in the hour that Greig leaves and Justin arrives. He feels like he should put the half empty pizza box in the garbage, but he’s so wound up in his Comedy Central re-runs that suddenly there’s someone knocking on the door. Then he doesn’t really have a choice in the not-moving aspect of things. “Yeah. Hold on.” He calls, turns the television off and climbs up off of the couch. He doesn’t bother cleaning up, figures that they’ll just make a bigger mess so he opens up the already unlocked door. Comes face to face with a grinning Justin, who looks properly debauched. “Hey.” Justin grins. Slides in-between Brian’s body and the doorframe, and Brian closes the door behind him, does up the lock because he knows if he doesn’t, fate will conspire against him – as it so often does – and Greig will return early, then proceed to smoke up all of the pot that Brian’s been craving all night. “Hey.” Brian says, follows Justin into his own apartment. Justin undoes his jacket, pauses to pull a plastic baggy out of the pocket before he shrugs the jacket the rest of the way off and throws it over the back of a chair. Brian snatches the baggy off of the table, grinning when he sees it, and Justin smirks, wonders if Brian’s thinking the same thing that he is. Brian looks up and his eyes are shining like he’s just won his third lottery in a row. “I always knew you’d be good for something one day.” “You know, you quote shitty song lyrics when you’re high.” Justin laughs, pushes himself back against the body that he’s spread out on top of. Throwing his hands up, Billy jumps on top of the already rickety coffee table they’re sitting around and bounces accordingly, wiggles his hips and acts surprised when a resounding crack echoes through the air. “Billy! Christ! Get the fuck off!” Someone shrieks, and then suddenly a male body is flying through the air. Billy falls into a ratty plaid arm chair, laughing like it’s the funniest moment of his life so far as Lola inspects her mother’s very antique, very expensive coffee table. She tries to be serious, tries to be sober, tries to be anything, but then she’s suddenly laughing as well, eyeing the hidden crack on the side of the piece of furniture. “Fuck. Fuck! This is worth like, a bazillion dollars. Mom's going to kill you!” “Money talks! But! It don’t sing and dance!” Billy exclaims, and then he’s up again and reaching for the baggy full of unlit joints. It’s sitting on the coffee table that Lola’s still inspecting, her brain slightly scattered, and Justin starts laughing like Billy’s song is the funniest thing that he’s heard to date. Billy picks out a joint that he apparently feels is good enough to smoke and bites it between his front teeth, still quietly singing and mumbling around it as he lights up. “And if you pardon me, I’d like to say! We do okay!” Brian reaches forward, ignores his friend’s brother's love for old top ten hits, and holds Justin around the waist so he doesn’t fall to the ground. He pulls the joint out of Billy’s mouth and disregards him when he starts to sputter and protest. Justin laughs and slides himself around, moves his hips back and forth and grinds down against the body he’s on top of when he manages to properly sit up, face to face with Brian. “Give me a hit.” Justin whispers, leaning in so close his breath is heating up Brian’s already warm lips. Brian closes his eyes and takes a deep drag of the fresh joint, lets it heat up his lungs from the inside out before he exhales through his nose, and Justin feels his pulse racing as the black smoke clouds up the space in-between their faces. “Shotgun me.” Smirking, Brian turns the joint around with careful fingers, balances it in-between his front teeth and smiles a wicked grin at Justin as he leans back and lets the blond move forward. Justin wraps his lips around the paper of the joint and inhales as Brian blows the smoke into his mouth. Tries not to burn his tongue on the lit end as his fingers slide over Justin’s hips. Everything’s a little harder, a little slower, a little more everything when you’re high. Justin exhales the smoke already filtering his lungs, slides his hand up Brian’s chest until his fingers are at his mouth and taking the joint from between his teeth. He takes another hit, holds it deep and he doesn’t let go until his lips are wrapped around Brian’s and Brian’s fingers are in his hair and he feels himself drowning. Someone takes the joint out of his hand, but he doesn’t know if it’s Billy or Lola or a fucking ghost, all he feels is the way his lungs are collapsing as smoke curls around his lips and Brian takes it in. Holds the feeling in his body like a fucking junkie. Justin pulls away. Rests his forehead against Brian’s, and tries to breathe properly. “You got a lighter, right?” Justin asks. Rolls his eyes when Brian smirks and produces one from inside a bowl on the coffee table, then reaches over and grabs the baggy from Justin’s hands. He takes one of the joints from inside it just as Justin says, “Fuck. I haven’t smoked in forever.” “Still remember how?” Brian snickers, and he feels his heart rate speed up a little when he flicks the trigger on the lighter and a flame appears. Heats up the skin at the top of his thumb and licks his nail. “Fuck you. Of course I do.” Laughing, Brian shrugs and puts the joint in his mouth. Manages to talk around it so he can snicker and say, “Just checking.” “Did your mother get pissed off at you for not going?” Brian asks, taking a drag of the joint before he passes it over to Justin. Justin shrugs, keeps his eyes on the burning end and watches the paper turning to ash. “I haven’t really talked to her yet.” He shrugs. Takes a hit of the joint and holds it for a few seconds before he hands it back over to Brian and exhales, manages to speak through his cracking voice. “The only calls I’ve really returned have been my father’s fucking lawyer’s.” “His lawyer’s?” Justin frowns, picks at a loose thread on his pants and says, “I got an inheritance.” “Figures.” Smirking, Brian shakes his head and hands the joint back to Justin. His mind’s already burning hot and he can feel the drugs working inside his bones. It’s a fucking great batch. “He doesn’t leave your mother a suicide note, but he remembers to make sure someone executes his will two and a half days after he kills himself.” Justin shrugs, leans back against the couch and watches the ceiling with half closed eyes. “Yeah, well. That’s my dad.” “You remember that last fight?” Justin asks, and he’s trying not to laugh but somehow his voice cracks a little bit when he says the last word. Brian notices and even though Justin hopes he hadn’t, it doesn’t matter anyway. They’re too stoned, too everything to do anything and they probably won’t remember most of tonight tomorrow. “Parts of it.” Brian shrugs. Admits. Avoids. Takes another hit of the joint and leans his head back on the arm of the sofa, so Justin stretches his legs out and watches with careful eyes as they extend all the way to the wall, and then disappear through it. “I remember it.” Justin finally says, and his voice is viciously quiet. “It was bad.” And then suddenly Brian’s laughing and sitting up, pushing himself up onto one elbow so he can hand the joint to Justin without dropping it. So he can have the last hit. “Well, we always were the drama queens, weren’t we?” Justin shrugs and takes the joint. Tries not to concentrate on Brian’s fingers, and the way his thumb is long and pale and pressing against the side of the joint. “We were something.” “So what’d your mother say when you told her that you were going to Boston?” Justin asks, leans forward and steals a piece of pizza that he knows is at least a couple of hours old. It’s not warm, but it’s not cold either. Brian snorts and drinks half of his beer before he replies. “She was surprised I got accepted into anything at all.” Justin shakes his head, but he isn’t surprised. He remembers Mrs. Kinney and everything about her, including the relationship she had with Brian. “Yeah. Well.” He shrugs, settles back into the ridiculously comfortable couch as he picks a piece of pineapple off of his pizza slice. Pops it into his mouth, and Brian doesn’t tell him that it’s the slice he soaked a paper towel through with grease. “You’ll be a fucking famous actor one day. Worth millions, and she’ll regret never speaking to her son instead of regretting having one in the first place. “I remember when I was thinking of leaving.” Words are slow and drawn out as Brian starts to speak, because that’s the way his brain is processing the minute around them. He’s too high to be doing this but he says it anyways, and it’s spoken so softly that Justin has to lean in because he can barely hear Brian’s words. “I was just… all I could think was – how do I fucking say goodbye to him? Shake his hand? Write him a faggot letter? Both?” Justin rolls over, and for once his concentration isn’t on the television, still loud in the other room. He’s listening to Brian for the first time in forever, clearly hearing his quiet voice under the blankets on Brian’s unmade bed – just because things like this are always good ideas when it’s also apparently a brilliant thought to eat five slices of old pizza in one sitting. “Then why didn’t you do anything?” He asks, wonders if his voice is somehow quieter than Brian’s, but he knows it isn’t possible. Brian never looks away from the ceiling, and Justin wants to look up too, see what he’s staring so hard at, but he’s terrified that he’s going to see something that he isn’t ready for. “Fuck. I barely said goodbye.” Mumbling, Brian closes his eyes. Opens them again, and they’re blurry for a few moments but he still manages to focus on the ceiling tiles. Justin licks his lips, glances around the room, but he can’t concentrate on one thought long enough to form more than a single word. So instead of reciting some elaborate dialogue with too many stale words and pop culture references, Justin pushes his body up, rests on one elbow and slides on top of Brian’s loose body. Makes sure his knees are on either side of Brian’s narrow hips, hands almost disappearing into the pillows under Brian’s head, and he laughs a little at the way the body underneath him turns from loose to tense in one beat. Laughs at the way that Brian’s eyes snap from the ceiling and look into blue instead. “Hello.” Justin says, and he can’t help the way that he smiles. Go to Chapter 10 |