Title: Confessions
Author:  Anonymous
Rating: PG-13
Authors notes: Thanks to the lovely and talented msjudi (Phobosgirl) for the quickest and bestest beta ev! Any mistakes at this point are all mine!
Disclaimer: This is not real. I know NOTHING about Gale Harold or Randy Harrison in real life, I made this whole damn thing up myself. No offense meant to anybody (ever, lol), etc. kthx.
Warnings: Angst, and lots of it. 
Complete: Yes.


Confessions

October 11th, 2005

G-

I don’t remember anymore exactly when you started covering for me. Well, that’s a lie. I do remember. We met, we did the screen test. You took the part and a couple weeks later I was naked on my back in Brian Kinney’s bed, you hovering over me and pretending to fuck me.

That’s when you became my best friend, when you started protecting me. I didn’t think much about it at the time because I wanted your friendship and we needed that trust to do what we had to do for the job. So I let it happen, let us become close friends, (like brothers you said back then). But you knew. You knowing and pretending not to know was the kindest and cruelest thing you could have done.

You allowed me a kind of denial that only friends who’ve been as intimate as we had to be could allow. Normal friends might try to dislodge the fantasy in the name of friendship, but then normal friends don’t have the fantasy pressed to their lips like sweet ambrosia weekly for years. I had to let you into places inside me that, had you chosen to, could have utterly destroyed me. You never once betrayed that trust. You looked directly into my desire for you and allowed us both to think you hadn’t seen it. That it wasn’t there. I never really thanked you for that, so I guess I wanted to just say it. Thank you.

I’m sitting here, listening to Sigur Ros ( ). Remember when you finally got so sick of this cd, you threatened to eat lunch in your own trailer? (As if you ever would have, that place was a fucking pigsty Gale!) This album reminds me of you. Of your goofing around, touching me gently when there was no reason to and of long discussions we couldn’t have with anyone else.

I told you once during the filming of season 2 that I hated you. I’m sorry but you know it wasn’t true. I hope you know. Do you know that Gale? It was never you, or the fact that we were friends that made me hate the show either. I know you accepted my angry accusations and discontent on the premise that we mutually disliked the amount of intimate nudity we were expected to perform. But deep down you knew there was more to it. I know you knew. I could see it in your eyes. You knew I loved you and you didn’t want to hurt me. You wanted to protect me from it, somehow.

It wasn’t really even being in love with someone I couldn’t have. It was the rush of my blood gushing out of me uncontrollably as everybody on the planet bore witness to the fact that I fell for you even though you were straight. It was being unable to stop some intimate knowledge of my need for you from escaping. I fought it with every signing, every interview and every moment I had to touch you, letting Justin have Brian while I bled to death in the spotlight.

I guess I wanted to deny your effect on me, but I couldn’t, so I blamed the show and Justin. It was easier than blaming you or me. And as always, you let me spin it how I wanted. You always supported me, knowing the truth full well. You went out of your way to protect my stupid pride, to not betray me and I think that’s how you eventually broke my heart.

So, I’m sitting here, getting just drunk enough to write this letter, but staying sober enough to know I’ll never mail it. Abigail is sitting here with me, but she’s not talking. She’s just here to comfort me I guess. What else are muses for?

Simon called last week. He wants to try again. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to call you, but then I didn’t think you’d feel like dealing with me and my drama, so I didn’t. You know I love New York, but I miss you. It’s fucking ridiculous, but I do. I didn’t think I’d feel like this. Wasn’t it supposed to be easier being away from you?

My thoughts last year before the final season wrapped were that this fall I’d be busy and relieved that it was over that I didn’t have to come back to Toronto. Instead I’m actually angry. I don’t have an excuse to come there and be near you, I’m not being paid to touch you anymore and really, that’s all I want to do right now. Just touch you, without talking or thinking or feeling this fucking pain in my chest.

So, I’ll try to come to your wedding. I still have 3 weeks to prepare for the part I’ll act. Maybe I’ll call Simon and he’ll come home. Then I’ll get up and get ready for work. I’ll breathe in and out and play the part that stayed with me after Queer As Folk ended. The part of your best friend, no strings attached.

-R

Go on the the next part, Afterwards by Phobosgirl