As the Sun Sets Over Paris

Part 1

Authors Note:  This is the sequel to one fateful night. The muses are leading me down a street that makes no sense to me at this point but I promised Susan a happy ending so I have to give her one. This is unbetaed because well I am sitting here watching it snow and I know I will still be sitting here hours from now in too damn much snow but this is what happens when we get a damn blizzard here.

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I wandered the streets of Paris in search of myself. I spent hours at the art museums and countless days drinking espressos at sidewalk cafes. My mind always wandered back to Brian Kinney and I always ended up at the bar around the corner from my loft. But I get ahead of myself.

I left Brian's loft that night and boarded a plane for Paris with nothing but my sketch pad and my brushes. I had to find peace with myself and I could not do that with Brian in the same country. I loved him more than I cared to admit to myself. But I also knew that in order to be able to love him completely I had to find a way to make sense of the disaster that was my life.

I arrived in Paris at midnightand found a small hotel overlooking the Seine. I was bone tired but the setting was inspirational and I painted until the sun came up. I could lose myself in my art and I could figure things out just by letting myself paint. That first painting was disturbing to me. The red pooled at the bottom and I flashed back to right before that bat connected with my head. Brian kissing me was the only memory I had. Somewhere from the recesses of my mind I heard him scream my name and I smiled.

After a few hours of sleep I went out into the city to find a place to live. After searching for hours I sat at a small table with my sketch pad and a steaming cup of the best espresso I had ever tasted. I watched as Paris thrived around me and felt at home. My pencil skimmed the page and I absentmindedly sketched Brian. Looking down at the page I saw the sadness in his eyes that was always just beyond reach. I wondered if he missed me or even thought of me at all.

I had been in Paris for a month before I decided to make contact with the life I left behind. I emailed Emmett.

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Emmett

I just wanted to let you know that I am doing good and I am settled in here. Paris is beautiful I wish I could share it with  you. I have been immersing myself in the art scene here and have done a lot of new works. There is a gallery owner who is interested in showing my work but I haven't committed to anything yet. I am painting for me not for anyone else.

How is Brian doing? I miss him. Give everyone my love and give Debbie a kiss for me. I will write again soon. The light outside is amazing and I want to capture this sky before it fades.

Love and kisses
Sunshine.

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I spent many days on the banks of the Seine painting the city around me. It was only at night that I let the loneliness take hold. I missed Brian. I missed his kiss and his touch. I longed to hold him again and to tell him all the things I had discovered here.

I barely slept anymore. Every time I closed my eyes I could see him standing there against the jeep kissing me. And then the darkness came again. I never could quite grasp what was dream and what was reality. I woke screaming every night. Somehow I had to find a way to remember that night.

I was walking down the Rue de Il one night and I thought I saw him standing in the light. But when I got there it was only a boy who resembled him. I saw Brian in everything that was beautiful about Paris and I longed to have him there with me.

It was a rainy night that I found the white scarf. I bought it and took it home. Tying it around my neck I flashed back to the dance. I could see him come in and he ran his hand down the lapel of my jacket, smiling at me. I tried so hard to remember but nothing was there. Why couldn't I remember that night? What was keeping me from remembering how he held me?

I found myself sitting at that same cafe around the corner from my loft writing a letter to Brian. The words seemed to write themselves.

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My Dearest Brian

I wish I could share Paris with you. I wish you could see the pink sky at night from the balcony of my loft. I wish I could make love to you again.

Oh Brian, I am so in love with this city and I know you would love it as well. I feel at home here in this city of lights and art. There are so many beautiful things that remind me of you. I am slowly learning to speak French. I can now order my espresso and croissant in the language now. Yves, the doorman at my building, is beautiful. I think that he wishes I would take him up with me at nights. But he knows that my heart belongs to another.

I have met some new friends here and I tell them about us all the time. I wish I could tell them about the dance we shared but alas it escapes me. They tease me and say that you are just a figment of my imagination. Some days I too think that I dreamed you up.

When I am alone at night, I find myself sketching your face. Your eyes always seem so sad. Why is that Brian? Why can't I remember a time when your eyes smiled at me? Do I ever cross your mind? Do you dream of me at night?

Je t'aime

Justin

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Here I sit at the same cafe, drinking the same espresso and eating my usual croissant for breakfast. Only today is not an ordinary day. Today is the day I met Brian Kinney. The day my life changed. I sit here in the morning light looking out at the Eiffel Tower thinking of him. My hands fly over the page and I look down to find I have drawn him with Gus. It is the night Lindsay had Gus all over again. I am taken back to that fateful night.

I am in his loft and he is on top of me, my legs over his shoulders. He whispers to me "I want you to remember this, so that no matter who you're with I'll always be there." And he always is. I haven't been with anyone since the night I left six months ago. Not that I haven't had offers but no one measured up to the man I left behind.

I look up and think I see him standing just beyond the trees but I know better. Brian Kinney would not travel half way around the world for me. I'm glad when it becomes clear it isn't him. I still need to remember that night before I can let myself think of a life with him. I need to know.

I find Yves waiting for me with a rather large package in his hands.

"Ah Monsieur Taylor, this package arrived for you. It is from a Brian Kinney and I was instructed to give it personally to you."

"Merci, Yves." I take the box and run upstairs to open it. I find a handwritten note on top and read it through quickly.

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Justin

I always wanted to show you Paris. I hope this helps in your quest for answers. When you are done please burn it. I can't stand the sight of it anymore. The memories are too hard for me. You once told me you wished you could remember. I replied that I wished I  could forget. I was wrong then. The memory of that night is what gets me through the darkness sometimes.  Your smile was beautiful and your kiss was perfect. As long as I have those memories the rest is ok.

Someday you will remember everything and when you're ready I'll be here. Take care of yourself and always remember that I love you.

Brian

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I dig through the box and find the blood soaked scarf he wore that night and I have a flash of him draping it around my neck. Did that really happen? Sometimes I'm not sure if what i remember is reality or just wishful thinking. Deeper in the box I find a picture of him and Gus. I caress his face and trace the smile as he stares at his son. The only time I remember seeing him smile like that was when he looked at Gus.

As the sun sets over the city I paint them from memory. Gus in his father's arms. Did he ever look at me with such love in his eyes? Did he ever really love me like that?

I sleep with the scarf on that night and my mind screams at the memories that flood it. Memories of Brian holding me as we twirl around the dance floor. Memories of his smile. He kisses me and pulls me from the room. I see us leaning against the jeep and he kisses me again. I feel like a spectator as I see the bat out of the corner of my eye. Brian screams and I wake in a cold sweat. I can still smell the blood that soaked the silk. I know that what I saw was real. I could hear the fear in his voice as he called out to me.

As the sun rises above my city I sip my coffee and draw the two of us standing there against the jeep. When I finish I pack the painting into a box and buzz for Yves to take it to the station for shipment. As I wait for Yves I finish the note.

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Brian

I remember your voice. The fear I heard in it chills me. How did you live with the memories of what happened next? Have you managed to put it out of your mind or does it still haunt you? Someday I promise you that we will finish that night the way it was meant to be. I miss you.

If I asked you would you come here and take me home again? Not to the Pitts but home to your arms. I will wait for your answer.

Justin.

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I open the container to find his blue eyes smiling back at me. The night flashes back into my mind and I remember the feel of him in my arms as I kissed him. He asks me if I will come take him home. I make the arrangements and am on the plane without a word to anyone. I call him from the plane. It took me forever to find his number in Paris but I found him.

"Justin, You will have my answer  in a few short hours. wait for it at your cafe." I hang up before he has a chance to speak and I prepare for landing.

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