Chapter 6 - Rage Against The Machinations.

How is it that someone I once thought of as a hero of sorts, could eventually turn out to be the monster of my story?

Don’t get me wrong, Ethan can be incredibly altruistic when it suits his purposes. He loves to donate time and even, sometimes, money, to ‘good causes’, provided that the recipient of his beneficence is thoroughly appreciative of his noble generosity. It isn’t about the gift that is given or the need of the donee; it’s about Ethan portraying himself as the Giver. So, yes, Ethan can be generous, but only when his generosity will reflect back on him.

In a similar fashion, he’s always loved to play the swashbuckling champion of the downtrodden. He eats up all the gratitude his rescuees inevitably laud him with. Because that’s how he’s always thought of himself. He’s the hero, the daredevil, the brave, romantic prince, always the star of his own fantasies. He likes to pretend that he’s the type to swoop in and save the day. He’s the ONLY one who knows what to do and how to do it. He alone can fix whatever is wrong.

But all his heroism is about himself, not the person he supposedly saves.

So, naturally, he would have been drawn to me back then. He no doubt saw me as some romantically disadvantaged naif that needed saving from the big, bad Stud. In his mind Brian was always the bad guy. Brian was the abuser. I was the innocent that needed protecting. And Ethan was the bold adventurer who found me, took me under his wing, and protected me. My predicament, when we first met, fit into Ethan’s personal narrative so well it was ridiculous.

Of course, that wasn’t exactly the truth. I wasn’t actually as innocent as Ethan seemed to think I was. Hell, I was a lot more sexually experienced than he was - or will ever be, most likely. And the problems I was having with Brian weren’t all my older lover’s fault. I was young and stupid but I should have stood up for myself a lot more than I did. I know Brian was never one for talking, however he had repeatedly told me that if I wasn’t getting my needs met, I should do something about it. I think, despite his antipathy towards emotionality, he would have respected me more for stepping forward and voicing my concerns, than he did for sitting there meek and quiet while everything fell apart. But the bottom line was that we were BOTH at fault and I really didn’t need a savior as much as I THOUGHT I did.

Enter Ethan The Brave.

Ethan came into the picture at just the right time - or, depending on how you look at it, just the wrong time - to take full advantage of the mess I’d made of my relationship with Brian. I was ripe for the swooping and the protecting. And, in my moment of weakness, I even welcomed it. I guess, in my secretly romantic heart, I wanted to be rescued by the big, brave prince and carted off to live happily ever after. Who doesn’t at some point?

But, you see, that wasn’t really ME. It was just the me I was at that moment in time when Ethan found me. I actually used to be really independent and, at least before this mess, I chafed at at being under anyone’s control or protection for too long. Brian might have been controlling, but I had never let him control ME. We’d always been equals, despite the difference in our ages. I think that was one of the things that had attracted Brian to me from the beginning. And, while I seem to have lost my way since then, it’s not in my nature to play the obedient and grateful rescuee.

No wonder I wasn’t able to provide Ethan with the requisite gratitude he longed for after he swooped me up.

The mystery of how Brian found out about me and Ethan was solved the very next morning. After getting only a few short hours of sleep the night before, I was barely awake when I shambled through the door of Red Cape Comics in order to be there for the interview Brian had set up with Pittsburgh Out Magazine. I knew I looked like shit, so I didn’t really need Michael to point that fact out to me. But what did he expect? I didn’t feel like shaving - or even showering - when it seemed like my whole world was falling apart. He should have just been happy I managed to dress myself.

However, being Michael, he was incapable of just letting anything go. He had to poke and prod and castigate me.

“Couldn’t you have dressed up a little?” Michael complained.

“I’m an artist, not a businessman. I don’t need to wear a suit and tie to impress anyone.”

Michael, however, had the temerity to insert Brian into our conversation - because . . . Best Friend and all. “This is for Brian. He went to a lot of trouble for us.”

“It’s not for us. It’s for him,” I whinged angrily as I doctored my much-needed coffee. “Brian calls all the shots. Brian controls the show. Including us.”

Okay, I realize that sounded incredibly petty but I wasn’t in a very good place that morning, so I should be forgiven for being a pissy little brat, right? Not if you asked, Michael, though. Michael, being who he is, is incapable of seeing any wrong in Brian Kinney. And he regularly declares that fact to anyone in earshot.

“If you ask me, he’s been pretty good to you. I mean, he saved your life,” Michael insisted. “He took you in. He’s putting you through school. He protects you. He looks after you, you know.” All of which was absolutely true, but it only pissed me off more to hear Mikey reciting all the reasons why I was beholden to Brian. The next thing he added, though, was a sheer fabrication. “And, whether you believe it or not, he loves you. More than he’s ever loved anyone.”

That one hurt. “He doesn’t love me. He fucks me,” I admitted, my anger momentarily overshadowed by sadness again.

Michael apparently didn’t like that response, but he couldn’t come up with any facts to counter it either, so instead he went on the attack against me. “Well, then, why don’t you find somebody else . . . Or maybe you already have?”

“He told you?” I was surprised by that, because Brian had never been the type to air his dirty laundry in public - I couldn’t see him revealing the fact that he’d been cheated on, even to Michael.

“He never said a word,” Michael insisted. Then he revealed all by defiantly adding, “I told him.”

That left me speechless for a moment. How the fuck did Michael find out? And, even if he had, what fucking business was it of his to interfere? I was totally incensed.

“How did YOU know?” I asked, trying to hold in my temper.

“I saw the two of you kissing on the street.”

“You ASSHOLE!” I fumed at him.

And the conversation devolved from there to the point that I was yelling, “Fuck you, Michael. Fuck you!” as I fled the shop, not even stopping to give more than a dismissive curse to the journalists who were supposed to interview us, while I stormed past them and out the door.

So much for my tenuous business partnership with Michael Novotny.

I spent the rest of that day wandering around the city, immersed in my morose thoughts and not caring where I was going. It didn’t help though. Despite hours of fruitless wandering and hand wringing, I still didn’t come up with any answers.

Was I going to just stick around forever, taking whatever crumbs of affection Brian thought to drop me? What was the alternative? I didn’t have anywhere else to go. No way was I going to move back in with my mother. Or, worse yet, Debbie. But I didn’t make enough, working part time at the Diner to be able to afford a place of my own. The only way I could manage that would be to quit school and get a full time job, although, without a degree or any relevant experience, I didn’t know what kind of job I’d rate. And what about school - if I left Brian, who was paying my tuition, how would I manage that? There was no way in hell my homophobic dad was ever going to pony up the money to pay for PIFA despite the fact that I knew there was a perfectly good college savings account with my name on it just sitting there in his bank. Craig had washed his hands of me when I moved in with Brian the first time and he wasn’t likely to take me back now that I’d further debased myself. Begging Craig for money was something I wasn’t willing to do even under the straitened circumstances I now found myself in.

Fuck! I felt so trapped. And there was no good solution. It was either continue to play my role as Brian’s fuck toy or end up homeless, friendless and careerless. What was the point?

I was left with the realization that I didn’t have a choice and there was no point to fighting the inevitable. I had to stay with Brian, at least for the time being, and suck up my indignation at the humiliation I felt. It wasn’t fair, but who said life was supposed to be fair? Or happy? Or even bearable? What else was new? I was screwed and didn’t see any reasonable way out, so I would have to stay.

I managed to straggle back to the loft in time to get a shower and change before heading to Babylon. I was happy to see that Brian had already been there and gone - despite my earlier resolve, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him. Maybe, eventually, I’d manage to swallow my resentment and anger, but I didn’t think it would be happening anytime soon.

Despite my gloomy mood, I was impressed with what Brian’s marketing genius had put together for the Rage Launch Party. The club was decked out with a forty foot tall Rage banner over the entrance and a stage set up to look like the pivotal street scene from the comic. All guests were handed Ragian-style masks as they arrived and were offered special drinks like ‘Rage-tinis’ or ‘Zephyr-politans’. The atmosphere was festive and expectant. And all my friends and acquaintances were there to cheer me on and celebrate my accomplishment.

I tried to get into the spirit of the evening. I really did. I wanted to forget the shitstorm of my romantic life for just one night. But it wasn’t easy. Mostly because I had to spend a significant amount of time with the man who’d betrayed me through his meddling, my soon-to-be-former creative partner, Michael Novotny. Luckily, there was enough noise and confusion all around us that nobody noticed Michael and I weren’t talking. And it was kinda cool to hear my mother and friends repeatedly telling me how proud they were of me. It was almost enough to make me forget my woes.

I’ve gotta admit that the stage show Brian scripted was pretty cool. He’d hired a group of actors to perform an abbreviated version of the comic’s main story. It was gratifying to see my comic - my vision - played out in front of a huge crowd of cheering people. They all seemed to like it. Especially the end where Rage uses his ‘other’ super powers to revive J.T. with a long, passionate kiss. From the way they all yammered for more at that point, it seemed chances were likely their enthusiasm might translate into people buying the comic. Which was the best news I could hope for. If I could just put a little bit of money aside, maybe I would be able to eventually get myself free of the trap I found myself in.

Brian, for one, was pleased as punch by the reaction he was getting. He was walking around as the play unfolded, bragging to everyone who would listen that he ‘wrote that copy’. When the lights came up and the confetti rained down, the audience literally screamed out their approval. It was looking like the party was a resounding hit on all fronts.

“Well, don’t thank me all at once,” Brian complained when he came up behind where Michael and I had been standing, silently, watching the show without much reaction.

“I think I’m gonna get a drink,” Michael, the coward, announced and immediately ran away.

“What’s his problem?” Brian asked me, yelling over the pounding of the music as I tried to brush the half a ton of glitter and confetti off of me.

“We’re not speaking,” I explained.

“Ah. Creative differences?” Brian conjectured with that condescending drawl of his that always grated on my nerves.

“Actually, we’re in total agreement . . . He thinks I’m an asshole and I think he’s one,” I replied, turning to look directly at my supposed ‘boyfriend’ for the first time since we’d had it out the night before.

Brian’s disdainful sneer didn’t disappoint. “Well, I just spent a fucking fortune on this . . .” he looked around him at the jubilation of the party, “. . . so, sort it out!”

I wasn’t in a very compliant mood, though, and dared to argue the point. “After what HE told you?” I snarled back, knowing that I didn’t have to elucidate on exactly what my reference to Michael ‘telling’ on me involved. No doubt the two ‘best friends’ had already convened to discuss my reaction from earlier that morning. I was sure Michael had enjoyed gloating to Brian about how I’d fucked up the interview by storming out, not to mention relating everything else I’d said to him, with appropriately derogatory commentary.

Brian treated my gibe with his usual demeaning humor, of course, teasing me in a sing-song voice. “Aww. He was just looking after me. Like Zephyr looks after Rage.”

The fucker. Of course he’d use the one thing that I was actually a little proud of to taunt me. I snorted a huff of unamused laughter but refused to give him the pleasure of any other reaction.

“You know, if you want your comic book to be a success,” he continued to lecture me like a child, “you should put your personal feelings aside, and don’t piss on your achievement.”

I felt like screaming back at him, ‘no. I don’t have to do that. You’re so much better at pissing on everything I do than I could ever be, aren’t you?’ Only I didn’t get the opportunity. Before I could say anything, Brian was off, striding boldly into the crowd, probably to soak up more admiration for all the many, many wonderful things he’d done for poor, hapless, little Sunshine.

If it hadn’t been for Daphne coming along just then and pulling me out onto the dance floor, distracting me from my black mood, I might have left and just gone home. I wished afterwards that I had. Maybe then things would have turned out differently. I know I was really, REALLY angry with Brian at the time, but maybe we would have eventually worked things out. Unfortunately, I stayed and things turned to total shit.

Daph and I were just coming off the dance floor three or four songs later, when we ran into Mel and Lindz. They were half-soused and having a great time, partying it up while child-free for a change. They once again complimented me and asked if I was having fun. I gave them some vague, unenthusiastic answer.

“You know, I think Brian’s looking for you,” Lindsey added before I could move off.

“He is?” I couldn’t think of why, since we didn’t really have anything more to say to each other.

“Well, of course he is!” Lindz insisted gleefully, which led me to think that the girls, at least, hadn’t been told about my recent indiscretions.

“It’s your big night, Sweetie. I’m sure he wants to share it with you,” Mel asserted.

And for a few minutes, I believed them. I thought - silly me - that maybe Brian had actually relayed that message to them. That, in spite of our troubles and all the evidence to the contrary, he WANTED to celebrate with ME. I guess I was still an optimist back then. Or maybe just gullible. But I believed the girls and so, with a glimmer of hope still flickering in my heart, I went off to find Brian.

It quickly became obvious that the girls’ statements had been more wishful projection than fact. Brian wasn’t looking for me. And he wasn’t anywhere to be found on the dance floor, sitting at one of the tables or even standing at the bar. Which left only one other place he COULD be . . . And, perversely, I went there to find him.

I don’t know what I was thinking. What was I going to do? Have it out with him in front of all these people? Scream at him till he admitted he loved me, fell down on his knees, and begged me to forgive him? I suppose I was either delusional or naive. Or maybe just at the end of my rope and without any other options? Whatever it was, I kept going, threading my way through the crowd, all the way down the darkened hallway to the infamous back room.

Which is where, of course, I found my errant boyfriend, lover, sugar daddy, whatever. It was always a foregone conclusion that Brian would be there. Who had I been kidding? And yet it was still a punch to the gut when I made my way around the various couples and threesomes, all fucking or sucking their brains out in sundry states of undress, to find Brian in one of the furthest recesses of that den of iniquity, kneeling on a couch behind the actor who had played Rage, fucking the man’s ass with his usual ruthless abandon.

I stood there and watched for a minute or two, strangely fascinated in the same way a person will repeatedly press on a wound even though it hurts. Brian was oblivious to everything around him, completely focused on achieving his own pleasure. Rage seemed to be enjoying himself too. The irony of watching the personification of my comic book hero essentially fuck himself wasn’t lost on me, but I didn’t have the heart to laugh. Not that I really needed any more proof, but this was even more evidence that Brian didn’t need me around. He was perfectly capable of - as he always put it - getting his needs met. Without me. Even at an event that was purportedly arranged to honor me and my artistic accomplishment, I was merely an afterthought to Brian Kinney. And maybe I didn’t really NEED endless professions of love or flowery romance, but I didn’t need to have Brian’s tricking shoved down my throat like this either.

I’d had enough. I was no longer in the mood to party. I was going to go home, crawl under the covers of Brian’s bed, in Brian’s loft, and cry myself to sleep. Then, the next day, I’d do it all over again. And probably the following day too. But then, when I was all cried out, I would sit down and make a plan about how I could extricate myself from under Brian’s control. Because there was no way I was going to stick around forever after that.

Of course, that was back when I still had at least a modicum of self-respect.

So, I was on my way out, after dodging yet more fans offering their congratulations, when the answer to what I was going to do and where I was going to go simply appeared before me. At the time, I thought it was the perfect solution. A benediction from the gay heavens. And I was too angry and upset and depressed after what had happened with Brian to even pause before I seized on the only out I thought I had.

He was standing just inside the main exit, right under the gigantic Rage banner. He looked a little lost amid the sea of sweaty, swaying, half-naked, dancing men. But to me he looked beautiful. He looked like a lifeline. A way out of the trap I felt was closing in around me.

Ethan was there!

When he caught sight of me he smiled that engaging smile of his and held up his Rage mask to his face. He was teasing me but this kind of teasing I liked. He must have forgiven me for the night before or he wouldn’t have shown up here. I felt the first real smile I’d had all day bloom on my face as I walked the last few paces towards him.

I pulled the mask away from his eyes so I could look at him and he gave me his ‘serious’ look. “I was practising the Beethoven,” he started off with what seemed like a total non sequitur. “It sounded like shit. And then I realized, it’s all your fault.”

I could tell by the hint of a smile on his face that he was kidding, despite the harsh words - words which echoed our first meeting at that recital so many weeks before.

“My fault?”

“I tried to forget about you, but I can’t,” he declared. “You’re ALL I think about.”

And my heart melted.

Before I knew it, we were kissing. Right there in the middle of Babylon. In the middle of the fucking party that Brian had spent all that money on to celebrate the launch of my comic book. In the midst of a couple hundred guys, all of whom knew me and knew that I was supposedly Brian’s property. But I didn’t care.

All I was aware of at the time was the way Ethan had pulled my face over to his own as he claimed my lips with a possessiveness that felt so good. He wanted me. I could feel it in his kiss. SOMEONE wanted ME! Finally! And he’d said that I was the only thing he could think about. That he couldn’t forget me. He had come there, that night, specifically to find and claim ME! The world vanished and all of a sudden it was just the two of us. I never wanted him to stop kissing me.

I have no idea how long Brian was standing there, behind us, watching the spectacle we were creating. I was too focused on Ethan’s kiss to care. It wasn’t until I realized that Ethan was looking over my shoulder while kissing me, that I became conscious of my surroundings once more. I was curious what Ethan was looking at, since it wasn’t me. I pulled back and twisted my neck around till I found what Ethan had been focused on.

It was Brian, of course.

My two lovers had been caught in a stare-off over my shoulder the whole time. Brian was wearing an unreadable expression, his eyes partially hidden by the silly Rage mask and his lips set in a neutral line that gave nothing away. Ethan, on the other hand, was smirking. With my hand resting against Ethan’s chest, I could feel his barely restrained glee over the fact that he had won. I had finally chosen HIM over Brian. I’m sure he got quite a thrill at the thought of stealing me away from a sex god like Brian Kinney. What he didn’t know, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to mention, was that he’d only really won by default after Brian had basically thrown me away. But I’d learned my lesson the night before and I wasn’t going to screw this up again.

Finally, Brian moved, reaching up to yank off the little mask. Then he turned back so he could look directly at me. He had this enigmatic little smile on his face that even I, with all my experience in reading Kinney expressions, couldn’t decipher. At the time I interpreted it as a sort of dare; something along the lines of, ‘are you sure this is what you want, Sonny Boy?’ When I later looked back on the moment, I realized I probably read him wrong. It was probably his attempt to cover up the fact that he was embarrassed by my blatant public rejection of him. His way of showing the crowd that he was too cool to care that his boyfriend was cheating on him. But either way, I don’t think I would have done anything differently right then. He’d told me it was up to me to decide where I wanted to be and I had just made my decision.

I hardened my heart, squared my shoulders, and finally showed everyone my choice.

I turned my back on Brian and everything that he had meant to me. Ethan pulled me away without another word, guiding me out the door and onward to the new life that awaited me. A life without Brian Kinney. A life that I thought would be everything I’d ever wanted.

A life under the exclusive control of Ethan Gold.