Incendiary

Chapter 5 - Hotspots

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Justin

I'm lying on top of the bed at Debbie's and, despite my exhaustion, I know that sleep won't come easily, if at all. My whole body is still thrumming with barely contained anger, hurt, betrayal.

Fear

The very possibility that my drawing hand may have sustained further damage scares me. Knowing that my relationship with Brian may never be the same scares me even more. I know I said some horrible things to him, but as hard as I try, I can't seem to muster any real regret.

That's what scares me most of all.

I'm not angry with him because I got hurt. I didn't have to go in there. Brian sure as Hell would never have asked me to, wouldn't have expected me to, wouldn't even have let me if he'd been in a position to stop it.

It's that I did go in. For him. I couldn't even fathom him being there, needing help, needing me, and not doing everything in my power to help him. I barreled in without conscious thought to save the man I love. The man I've always loved. Apparently enough to risk my life for.

And in the end, I did it for nothing.

I did it for Brian.

But I did it for nothing.

Brian.

Nothing.

That concept bothers me more than I want to admit, but I can't shake it. All I can do is try to figure out what it means, what my head's trying to tell me that my heart can't hear.

I know Brian loves me, I believe it with all my heart. Most of the time. He shows me in so many ways. Or at least he did. He has. Since I got back from L.A., things have been a little … off. I asked him if the offer still stood and when he opened that drawer, I wanted to weep with joy. He still wanted me. Even after I left, passed up his offer in favour of one three thousand miles away, he still wanted me.

We made love like a gazillion times that night, reacquainting ourselves with one another, reaffirming what we felt, what we needed, what we wanted. It was one of the best nights of our life together, bar none. Except maybe the one I still can't remember. But even that didn't matter at the time. We were together, living as a couple for the right reasons this time. Not because I had nowhere else to go or because he felt he needed to care for me. Because he wanted me there and I wanted to be there. It was that simple.

At first.

I'm not even sure what changed, really. He started going out more, staying out longer. Preaching his 'we're queer' speech from the catwalk to anyone who would listen. As if there's anyone left in Pittsburgh who doesn't know how Brian Kinney feels about monogamy and gay marriage. We get it.

Seemed the more I wanted us to be a real couple, the harder he rebelled against it. I hadn't even voiced my opinions recently, but he knows me. He knows what I want. What I need.

What I'm not going to get as long as I'm with him.

I hear the phone ring and hold my breath for a moment. One ring, two … Deb must have picked it up. When she doesn't call for me, or show up at the door, I relax a little. I don't know that I want to talk to him now. I don't know that I don't. Apparently, I'm going to be spared having to make the decision. He's not calling to talk to me. No surprise, really, considering how we left things in the street.

So, where was I? Oh yeah, what I'm not going to get. Mom always taught me it was far more productive to take things from the positive side of the equation. Rather than dwelling on what I'm not getting, I think about what I am. That's easy. I get Brian.

Just not all of him

Not even much of him lately

A knock at the door. Fuck. Maybe it was Brian on the phone after all. "Yeah?"

The door opens and it's with a mixture of relief and trepidation that I see Michael's face peering in.

"You decent?"

I hold up my bandaged hands. "Couldn't be otherwise if I wanted to."

He nods grimly and makes his way into the room. "Brian gave me your instructions from the hospital. I stopped by the pharmacy and had the prescriptions filled." He lays the bag on the night table. "Painkillers as well as an antibiotic cream for when you change the bandages. All the instructions are in there."

"Thanks."

"Justin…"

"Look, Michael, if you're going to bitch me out for what I said to Brian, you can save it. Every word was true and we both know it. What's more, Brian knows it."

He nods, frowning. "Brian certainly seems to believe it."

"So do I."

"I don't think you do."

"Lucky for me, I don't have to care what you think."

He sighs and lowers himself into a chair by the window, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "Do you honestly think he wouldn't have done the same thing for you? For Gus? Lindsay?"

I want to argue that I do believe it. But I can't. Because I don't. Gus would be worth it, Lindsay, Michael. Me. Any one of our lives would be worth risking his own to save as far as Brian was concerned. I know that. Despite my angry words earlier, I fucking know that.

Just as I know Brian wouldn't consider his own life worth one of us risking ours.

"This is so fucked," I mutter, not for the first time tonight.

Michael's nodding sadly. "He can't accept that you could have been … hurt trying to save him."

"I love him, Michael. I just don't know why he has to make it so fucking hard all the time."

"I'll let that one pass," he says with a small smirk.

I know he's trying to lighten the mood, but it's going to take a lot more than a little sexual innuendo to change mine at the moment. "I just can't believe that while I was thinking he was in there dying, he was out fucking some trick."

"So, you'd rather he'd been in the loft?"

"Of course not," I snap. "Don't be a fucking retard, Michael."

He lets that pass too.

"So if you'd come home to no fire, and found he'd been out tricking, would it have mattered?"

I take a deep breath. No sense in hiding anything at this point. "It's not the tricking, not exactly. It's that he wants that lifestyle and I want something more. We're living in the same place going down completely different paths. It's just getting to be so fucking frustrating."

He nods his understanding.

"But, no. To answer your question, I wouldn't have queened out like I did if I hadn't been thinking he was dead. I've never been so scared, Michael. You don't know how it feels, thinking you've lost the most important thing in your life."

He smiles sadly. "Maybe I don't." After a brief pause, he adds, "But Brian does."

The words hit me like a physical blow and it must show on my face because he gets to his feet with a worried expression on his. "You OK?"

I feel my head shaking slowly. "No, I don't think so."

"Do you need anything?"

I have to swallow the lump in my throat. "Can you just leave? Please?"

He looks reluctant but finally nods. "Um, sure. You should probably try to get some sleep anyway." He offers a nervous smile and then turns to leave the room.

Right. Like that's going to happen anytime soon.

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