Judas

Idle Talk

Brian's POV

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I couldn't stand the loft anymore. It was too quiet, and I'd run out of busy work the night before. With nothing to do but think, I can't get him out of my mind. I keep seeing the look in his eyes right before he left. We keep coming back to this. Justin walking away, and me standing there helpless, paralyzed, unwilling to ask him to stay. How many times are we destined to play out this scene?

I know the answer to that. It won't happen again. Justin has finally left me for good. He may think the last time he left was forever, but I know the difference. When he left the party, he left out of defiance, anger, and a need to prove himself. Today he left out of defeat. Ethan was about showing me he could find someone who would love him and making me realize he was worth all the things I wouldn't give him. He didn't realize I already knew all of that. His leaving was about him and about making a statement to me. But this morning, he left for me. He left to save me. I finally made him realize that love can't heal all wounds. That we were never going to have a fairy tale ending. He finally saw what loving him cost me. And he walked away because he knew it was what I needed. He will never come back; I made sure of that.

But dwelling on it won't change anything. I can't take back what I said, and I wouldn't even if I could. I can't take the pain from his eyes. So if you can't fix it, forget about it. And the first step to wiping every moment of this morning from my mind is getting dead ass drunk. At least that's the plan as I step into Woody's. If that doesn't work, there's always Anita and the backroom.

The first person I see is Emmett. He's sitting in a corner looking like he lost his best friend. I'm tempted to ignore him, but he'll probably spot me and make a bigger scene. I stop at the bar for a refill for Emmett and a couple of drinks for myself. From the looks of things, this could be a long night. Emmett barely looks up when I set his drink down. I should ask him what's wrong, but I really don't care. Hopefully, Ted will show up soon and rescue me. Those two are living proof that misery does love company. Eventually, the silence begins to bother me. "So where are the rest of the boys?"

"Michael and Ben are at Debbie's. Ted has some live show to direct." All this is said without any inflection or gesturing.

"So Ted has a new star to replace Fetch Dixon?" The only thing stranger than Ted as a porn king is Emmett as a porn star. Porn is generally the domain of the Zach O'Toole's of the world. Big beefy men who are clearly tops. Yet somehow, the queen of nelly bottoms took the porn world by storm. I guess a big dick makes up for a lot. Not that I would know. One image I did not need stuck in my head was Emmett jerking off, especially in costume.

Instead of answering me, Emmett bursts into tears. "Dammit Emmett stop that. I'm sure Ted will take you back."

"It's not that," he sniffs while dabbing his eyes with a napkin. "Today is, well would have been, George's birthday."

Christ, just what I need a weepy, mourning Emmett. "Just missed the century mark, did he?" So I'm a bastard. No one in their right mind would come to me for sympathy. And so what if I piss him off. Anger's a hell of a lot better than depression.

"No, I wish he had lived that long. Then we would have had years together instead of a few short months." Emmett sighs and resumes staring at his drink.

I look at the door hoping Ted will magically appear. For once in my life, I actually wish Ted was around. I turn back around and find Emmett looking at me oddly. I don't know what the look means, but I'm glad he's stopped crying.

"You know what I was thinking Brian? What if I had a fairy godmother. What if right after I met George, my fairy godmother came to me and said `Emmett, you are going to fall madly in love with this man. And he will love you too. You will be very happy for a few months, but then he will die.' What do you think I would do?"

This conversation has gotten way too weird for me. And while I refuse to even attempt to think like Emmett, I do try to come up with an appropriate response. Maybe I've had more drinks than I remember. "You would say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all or whatever the fuck that saying is. Then you would have enjoyed the time you had with George." It's all bullshit as far as I'm concerned, but it sounds like Emmett.

"God, no. Even I'm not that pathetic." He shakes his head and laughs. "I would have said fuck that. What do I want with some old coot who's going to drop dead on me? There are plenty of fish in the sea. I'll go fall in love with some young stud who can keep up with me for a long time. And I would have missed out on all the happiness George gave me. Now, I wouldn't trade my time with George for anything. But then, why take the risk? That's why we don't have fairy godmothers."

"Good point," I answer hoping he's done with this particular flight of fancy. But if his increased animation is any indication, Emmett's on a roll.

"Even if I had decided to take the chance, it never would have worked. Every day I would have wondered if it was the day George was going to die. I would have held back. I would never have let myself love him completely, and I wouldn't have appreciated his love. I would have cheated both of us." He looks away and falls silent.

"Another strike against fairy godmothers," I reply weakly. Here I am trapped in another conversation I have no control over.

"You know what your problem is, Brian?"

"Do you want them listed alphabetically or in order of severity?"

"Your problem is that you listened to your fairy godmother."

"Emmett, exactly how much have you had to drink? I could swear two minutes ago you said we don't have fairy godmothers."

He looks at me like I'm the one who's lost my mind. "I'm speaking figuratively. Of course you don't have a fairy godmother. You don't need one because you're too busy being your own fairy godmother."

Now, either I'm totally drunk or I've slipped into some alternative universe. I can't think of any other reason Emmett would compare me to a fairy godmother. "What the fuck are you talking about?" And where the fuck is Ted when you need him? How long does it take some loser to jerk off?

"I'm talking about Justin. You listened to the little fairy godmother voice in your head that said he would eventually leave you. So you never gave him a chance. You were always pushing him away and hurting him. You kept at it until he finally did leave you. Then you and your fairy godmother could say I told you so. You just had to be right. Exactly where did that get you and Justin?" He crossed his arms and looks at me accusingly.

"Right where we are supposed to be-apart," I growl at him. He'd better understand my warning. Justin is never up for discussion.

"I'll never understand you. Didn't his prom teach you anything? Didn't almost losing him make you tell your fairy godmother to fuck off? That you weren't going to worry about the future, but instead enjoy every second you had with him. Didn't it make you want to hold him tighter and never let anything come between you again?"

"Fuck you!" I get up to leave and try to ignore the image of Justin's broken body. Emmett grabs my wrist with surprising strength and pulls me back down to face him.

"One thing George's death taught me is that life is too short. There's no time to worry about what might happen or what people will think. You have to grab happiness wherever you find it and to hell with everything else. So what if you get hurt later, at least you get some joy along the way. I'd give anything for a few more minutes with George, and you throw Justin away. Maybe you think it's my own fault for falling in love with an old man. But you know better than anyone that youth is no guarantee. So what happens in two years or five years when Justin gets hit by a car? Will you stand at his grave and thank your fairy godmother for warning you about him? Or will you regret every minute you spent apart, will you miss every chance you should have had to touch him and laugh with him? Will you remember every chance you had to tell him you loved him, but didn't?"

"What does it matter as long as he was happy?" I try to ignore the pitying look Emmett gives me.

"I know happiness means nothing to you so I won't even try to argue that point. But what about Justin? You know he loves you. You know he would do anything for you. And don't for one minute fool yourself into believing he'll be happier away from you. So let's turn the tables. What happens when three years from now you die from an accidental overdose? What will Justin think when he watches them lower your coffin into the ground? Will he thank you for pushing him away? Will he be glad he lost three years with you because you were afraid he'd leave you in five? I think he'll blame himself. He'll feel guilty for leaving you even though we all know that was your choice not his. He'll hate himself for missing a second of your life. He'll never get past the idea that his weakness cost him all the days he should have spent with you. Do you think your death would hurt him less if you were apart? Do think losing him would destroy you less if he's not with you. You gave up what you had because you were afraid of what might happen. But it's not too late. Fix it before it's too late."

This time when I pull away, Emmett doesn't stop me. I look away so he can't see what his words have done to me. And finally, I see Ted walking in the door. Back under control, I turn to Emmett. "Look, there's Ted. You can practice your psycho babble on him now."

Emmett gives me a knowing smile and shakes his head, "Just think about what I said."

I walk out without another word. Unfortunately I'm not sure there's enough Jim Beam in the world to wipe the picture of Justin's grave from my mind. And as much as I don't want to, I can't help wondering if there is something to fix.

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