Gift # 22 TO:xheartrockx (for LJ & IJ) tastymoves (tumblr) FROM:sangwin TITLE: Everything You Wanted to Say GIFT REQUEST: Something angsty but with a happy ending. Can be H/C. Brian/Justin - I don't have a particular setting in mind but if you write 5.13, please don't make a 'going to New York was a big mistake' kind of thing. NOTE: I am 99% sure I saw Gale Harold eating lunch at an outdoor cafe at LACMA about three weeks ago. I circled around and walked by twice.
It’s not until he is surrounded by 35 eleven-year-olds that Justin realizes he’s been tricked.
Fucking Brian.
He had made it seem like Justin would really enjoy doing this. He emphasized how much it would mean to Gus. Justin is Gus’s hero, or some completely manipulative crap like that. He told Justin how amazing his art is; stroking his ego and his dick all while using his hard, wet body to press Justin against the shower wall.
Of course he said yes.
Really, Brian just didn’t want to do it himself and he didn’t want to listen to Lindsay bitch about it when Gus was disappointed. (And, honestly, he doesn’t want Gus to ever be disappointed either, but that doesn’t mean he is going to do something he doesn’t want to---this is Brian-fucking-Kinney)
Brian’s an asshole and Justin really should be able to see through the bullshit better than this by now. But, the shower sex…
Let’s face it, under the same coercion, you would volunteer for Career Day too.
Justin sets up a medium size canvas and tubes of oil paint at the front of the classroom while students try and fail at sneaking glances at him without his noticing. According to the teacher they are supposed to be finishing up some sort of career themed writing assignment. Justin shoots one of them a sympathetic wince.
Gus is next to him, practically leaning against him, vibrating with excitement. He is whispering loudly into Justin’s ear.
“Don’t forget to tell them about how everyone in New York knows your name!”
“I don’t think everyone in….”
“And the comic books! Rage!!! And the movie!”
“Gus, they didn’t end up making a mov…”
“And that we visited your paintings at the museums in LA and London!”
“Ok. Ok.” This sucks. It’s worth it, but it sucks. And not in a good way.
Today’s line up includes Justin--the artist/illustrator, Sara--the police officer, Mike--the lawyer, and Craig--the business owner. All of the speakers are parents of children in the classroom. Sara and Mike spoke earlier in the day and have already finished up and said good-bye.
Justin was scheduled for last, as he brought a small canvas for each student to work on and Ms. Haskell thought it would be nice to finish up the day with an art project. But, Craig-business-whoever is late (seriously? Nice going, Dad) and Justin is early. So, for the sake of keeping things moving, Justin sets up and begins.
“Hello.” The room goes silent and everyone stops and stares. Justin is suddenly nervous, chest tight. “Um..My name is Justin Taylor and I am Gus Kinney’s …”
“He’s my Dad’s boyfriend!” Gus calls out. “He’s an ARTIST!” He actually sounds really proud-- like he is absolutely certain he has brought the best toy to show and tell today. Justin smiles and his nerves vanish.
He starts into his pre-written speech about what modern art is (how do you explain that to a fifth grader? Justin doesn’t fucking know.) He talks about painting and museums and art galleries, trying to break up his words with small demonstrations, mixing vibrant colors onto the canvas to keep the kids from getting bored.
He is holding up a fan brush, mid texture, when an older man bangs awkwardly through the classroom door.
“Sorry. Sorry I’m late.”
“Dad!” one of the kids in the back of the room stands instantly to greet him.
Justin stops breathing. The hand holding the fan brush shakes and he gets paint onto his jeans.
Standing in the back of the classroom with some other wide-smiled, blonde boy wrapped around his thigh is Justin’s father. HIS father. The father that he has not seen since he had him arrested outside of his store, what, six years ago?
If possible, Craig-The-Business-Man-Taylor looks even more terrified at seeing his oldest son.
Justin stares at the boy and then back at the man. The room is fucking silent. Math has never been his strong suit but if that boy was born the same year as Gus and his mother conceived 9 months BEFORE that. Well...this shit is really fucked up. And, that little boy...well, that boy looks so much like his younger self now that he takes the time to really see him. That is most certainly his father’s son….his...his brother. Jesus Fucking Christ. This is….So. Fucked. Up.
Except, he doesn’t quite know what to say now. He has lost his place--in every possible way.
Justin clears his throat. He tries to pick up where he left off, but he can’t. He takes a breath, and goes off script.
“Being an artist has always been my dream--it’s...it’s part of who I am. More than I could ever possibly explain. But, when I was younger I got hurt.”
His voice falters slightly and he looks up to meet his father’s eyes. He stares at him, talks directly to him.
“No. That’s not right. I didn’t get hurt. I was hurt. Someone hurt me because he did not like who I was and wanted to take that from me. He almost did.”
He keeps staring and keeps talking and Craig does not look away.
Justin tells him about his hand and his fear and his sadness--about being alone and lost. He tells him about his mom and his friends and Brian (amazing fucking Brian)….his real family stepping in and not letting him give up. He tells him how he fought for his dream and for himself.
He holds his father with his gaze and tells him he is happy. Successful and published, exhibited and on his way to wealth and regard. He tells this man that he is really fucking happy.
“I believe,” Justin says, “that you can be whatever you want to be if you never give up on your dream. Bad things might try to stop you, but don’t let anything or anyone stand in your way.”
Justin hands out brushes and paint while Ms. Haskell beams at him and calls him inspirational. He kisses Gus on the forehead, whispering a goodbye before brushing past his stone stiff father and out the door.
“Justin…..” And the slight click/thunk of the classroom door falling closed. Justin watches the knob for a moment but it remains still and shut.
“This is all your fucking fault!” Justin slams through the loft door, letting it bang and bounce in its sliding frame. He leaves a wake of destruction--bag, brushes, shoes thrown with force.
Brian is contorted on the floor, stretched across a yoga mat. (At first he thought it was the most lesbionic of exercises but then he saw what it did to his ass…)
“Rough day, Princess?”
“Was it too much for you to show up for your own fucking son yourself?” Justin is filled with rage. And not the good Rage. Brian has not seen him this angry since… “You’re his fucking father. That is your fucking son!”
“Whoa, whoa. Justin calm down.”
“Fuck you.”
“What the fuck happened?”
Brian reaches out for Justin’s shoulder but Justin smacks his hand away, hard.
“You are a terrible fucking Father, Brian. You aren’t there when he needs you. You just let Lindsay and Melanie move to a different fucking country.”
Brian takes a step back, flinching like Justin had hit him again.
“How can you just live a completely separate life without him and not even…. How do you just replace him and move on and…. FUCK! How do you just disown your fucking son and leave him in the fucking hospital and have him arrested right in front of you and….”
“Justin.”
Brian’s arms are around him and this time Justin lets them stay. Brian pulls Justin’s head under his chin. He can hear Brian’s heart beating fast and hard in his chest.
“Where did you run into Craig?”
“Gus’s school.”
“What?”
“He was there for Career Day. Craig-The-Business-Man is evidently Dad of the fucking Year for his new fucking son.”
Brian is silent but his posture speaks volumes. Eventually he whispers into Justin’s hair. “I don’t know. Justin, I don’t know.”
Lindsay and Melanie have been back in the Pitts for 2 years. Brian paid for the move. They wanted to come home and no questions asked and with surprisingly few ‘I told you sos,’ he made it happen, right away.
He might have bailed on Career Day and the baked sale, but he has been to most of the soccer matches and even sat through a Christmas recital (just once). He hosted a fucking epic 10th birthday party.
“Brian. You are a really good Dad.”
Brian runs his fingers through Justin’s hair but doesn’t respond.
“Brian. I’m sorry...I...it wasn’t about you and I…..”
“Justin. You were never a bad son.”
Justin and Brian have a standing Wednesday lunch date at the over-priced gourmet salad place that is now uncomfortably close to Kinnetik and the once seedy but homey Liberty Ave. Michael says it’s romantic--the date, not the salad. Brian insists that it’s practical and a business meeting with a paid art consultant. Justin likes their tri tip and that he can blow Brian in the bathroom without Cynthia “accidently” walking in, again. (Breakfast is still a group affair at the diner. Some things never change, even with a shift in demographics.)
The following Wednesday, Justin walks into Mixt Greens to find his mother sitting in Brian’s usual seat. He has been avoiding her frequent calls and frantic texts for almost a week now. Brian, turns out, has not.
“Honey, I….”
Justin hugs her and cries against her neck. He generally thinks himself far too old for such behavior but something about seeing his Dad has made him feel like a little boy.
“I talked to your father.”
“How long have you known?”
“About the affair or the baby?”
“Jesus.”
“I found out about the first affair when you were ten. I am not sure how many there have been. It’s stupid but I always hoped that…”
“Mom.” Justin reaches out and takes her hand across the table.
“I know.”
Justin runs his other hand over his face and through his hair before clinching it into into his lap.
“I learned about Jason about a year and a half ago. Craig told Molly he was getting married and they already had a little boy. Molly told me. I kept meaning to tell you, thinking there would be a right time but… I don’t….”
“This is so fucked.”
Jennifer sighs and says, “And not in the good way.”
Justin can’t help it. He starts laughing uncontrollably. Loud and silly. “Oh my God, Mom!” He gasps between giggles. “How often exactly are you and Brian talking behind my back?”
She smiles up at him but it looks a little watery. “I had no idea he was in school with Gus. I assumed he would be at the academy.”
“Have you met him?”
“No. I haven’t even seen him.”
“Do you want to?”
“No. Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
Silence.
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“Of course. Of course it wasn’t. You know that right?”
“I think I do.”
They eat quietly for awhile. “How do you not hate him? Like, all the time?”
“I did hate him for a long time but it didn’t do me any good. I have you and Molly and Tucker. Hell, even Brian and Debbie. I...I am happier now than I have ever been. I am glad he is not in our life anyone. But, I can’t hate him. He gave me you.”
Justin spends the afternoon with his mom and then he walks. He walks around the Pitts street by street until it is dark. He walks past his father’s store. It is closed. It somehow seems smaller, older, less impressive than he remembers seeing it as a child.
When he finally makes it back to the loft, Brian is in bed reading. The lights are low and there is Thai food on the counter waiting for him. A peace offering and a giving of space, if needed. He does not ask Justin about his day.
Justin strips naked and spreads out against Brian’s warm skin.
“You and my mother, as allies, are fucking frightening.”
Brian rolls him over onto his back and settles with Justin’s thighs around his hips. He bites and mouths at Justin’s collar bone.
“Did you say everything you wanted to say?”
“Are we really walking about my mom while you do that?” Justin gasps, confused.
“No.” Brian shakes his head against Justin’s stomach and stills his exploring hands. He looks up at him.
Justin pauses. He was presented with a moment that he never thought he would get--this chance to stand up, a grown man, and talk to his father as himself without any fighting or yelling or means of escape. Without conflict or rebuttal. He talked and Craig listened.
“Yeah. I...Yes. I said everything I wanted to say.”
“Good.” Brian nods once and then continues with his tongue and teeth and fingertips.