Chapter 11 Preposterously Quixotic

Brian smiled to himself as the thought ran through his mind. Justin might just fall right over if he did something so absolutely lesbionic.

The more he thought about it, however, the more he realized that he needed to pull out all the stops in order to find a way to make Justin believe in him; to believe in them.

Still, would Justin even take him seriously if he followed through on the plan formulating in his head?

Deciding to act before he could overthink it and back out, Brian grabbed his keys and headed for the florist in the hotel lobby. After spending several minutes perusing the flowers available in the shop, he saw exactly what he was looking for. Grabbing a card that said ‘A rose speaks of love silently in a language known only to the heart’ on the front, he quickly turned the card over and wrote – ‘red for undying devotion, in the center of white petals symbolizing new beginnings – my pledge to you – love embraced by promise’.

He gave Justin’s address to the cashier, and ordered a dozen of the gorgeous roses to be delivered the following morning.

Heading back towards the elevator, his discomfort almost like a shadow walking step by step beside him, he reminded himself that he had so very much to make up for, and that he needed to be willing to do whatever it took to get Justin back, no matter how utterly foolish he felt doing it.

He smiled to himself once again as he imagined Justin’s reaction as he opened his door when the delivery man rang.

/~/

Justin opened his door cautiously, ready to refuse should another flower delivery be waiting on the other side. He thought back to how his heart had pounded in his chest that morning when Brian’s little surprise had arrived, and reminded himself that he needed to be strong no matter what grand gestures the brunet came up with to get his way.

Rather than a florist’s delivery truck, however, he saw the friendly deliveryman from his favorite Chinese restaurant a few blocks over. “Hey, Bao, what brings you by here? I didn’t call in an order.”

“Boss say Bao bring…” the good natured man replied, somewhat confused.

“Hmmm, ok then,” Justin answered. “Tell her thank you…hold on, I’ll get my wallet.”

“No, no. Bill paid. Good tip, too,” Bao quickly told him, with the big smile he always sported.

“O-Ok, thanks.” Justin closed the door as the short statured man walked away, mumbling to himself about the confusion. He was quite sure that he had not called in an order, and couldn’t for the life of him think of anyone else who might have done it.”

Opening the boxes on his kitchen counter, he was surprised to see a variety of his favorites, and a post it note attached to the fortune cookie in handwriting he did not recognize.

‘OPEN ME FIRST’

Tearing open the packaging, and breaking the cookie apart, his fortune read, ‘Only love can make one happy.’

Rolling his eyes and trying to figure out how even Brian could get a particular message placed in his bag, Justin let himself ponder once again who had ordered this meal for him, but was quickly tempted by the smells coming from the food in front of him and simply grabbed a plate and began to eat. Whoever had sent it, he was no doubt going to enjoy it.

/~/

Brian sat down at the desk in his hotel room to look over a few of the items he needed for the upcoming few days.

He had spoken to Cynthia, and had her coordinate with his secretary to fit as many meetings in as possible, since he had no intention of leaving New York any time soon.

Trying to keep focused on the plans and his schedule, his mind kept wandering to the blond who had occupied most of his thoughts over the last few days. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he wondered about the reactions that his little surprises were receiving. Justin might have been the persistent one all those years ago, but he had another thing coming if he thought he could outlast Brian Kinney. Once Brian had decided he wanted something, there was nothing in heaven or on earth that could stop him, and he had decided once and for all that what he wanted, what he needed, was one Justin Taylor.

All this time, through the pain and loneliness, through the misery and despair, he had thought he was protecting Justin. He made himself believe that everything he did would make the younger man confident and content, once he himself was out of the way. Instead, all of his actions had done exactly the opposite.

He thought back to how broken Justin had looked as he railed at him the other day. The amount of pain he saw on Justin’s face finally registered, along with the absolute knowledge that his own actions had caused it. There was nowhere to place the blame except on himself. Sure, there had been errors in judgement on both sides, and neither man was without fault, but the anguish that Justin had lived through on his own was a result of exactly what Justin had said so eloquently. Brian’s anxieties had directly affected his relationship with Justin, and in the process had whipped the rug out from under him and left him floundering. As a result, he couldn’t trust Brian, but he couldn’t trust anyone else either.

Opening up his Facebook account, he began to maneuver through his messages, but found he couldn’t concentrate on them either. How on earth was he going to prove to Justin that he was all in, that he not only loved and needed him, but that more importantly, he trusted him and believed in him?

Pulling up Justin’s name, he sent a friend request through, surprised when it was accepted after only a few moments.

He clicked on the Message button, and then on stickers, since he had no idea what to say to him now that his friend request had been accepted. The very first sticker that came up made him pull in his lips in the smirk he was so well known for. It seemed once again the fates were aligned to try and help him in his quest to win back what he had lost. Clicking send before he could chicken out, he held his breath as he waited to see what response he would get.

Justin : Brian, please. I forgive you already. But you are not making things any easier.

Brian : I have no intention of making it easier for you to keep us apart.

Justin: Please, if I ask nicely, will you stop?

Brian: Nope ;)

Justin: Well, so much for giving me what I need.

Brian: Can I ask you a question?

Justin: Sure, why not?

Brian: The paintings at the emerging artist show… the one with the red stripe was about the bashing, right?

Brian: You still there?

Justin: Um, yeah.

Brian: So, if it was, how could you really include it in a set with the other painting, which obviously depicted me leaving… I hardly think taking a bat to the head compares.

Brian: Justin, are you there

Justin: You were there?

Brian: Yes.

Justin: You were the one Drew told me about, the one who cried while viewing my paintings.

Brian: I didn’t know anyone saw me.

Justin: And you were just going to walk away, not say anything, not see me?

Brian: Shit… yeah… hadn’t had my ass handed to me by my favorite diminutive blond yet.

Justin: FUCK, BRIAN!

Brian: Yeah, I know. Hence the please forgive me sign – one of about 400 reasons anyway…I’m sorry.

Justin: Wait, WHAT?!?!

Brian: Come on Sunshine. I’m trying here. Please?

Brian: So… you didn’t answer my question. How can the bashing and my leaving be companion pieces?

Brian: Justin?

Justin: They both changed who I am, fundamentally.

Justin: The bashing robbed me of my intuition, it left me unsure of myself, and it changed how I was able to do my art.

Justin: When you walked away that day, you took my heart with you, but also my self worth and ability to trust – myself or anyone around me – it changed how I was able to love.

Justin: Those were the two events in my life that left me less than I was before.

Brian: Wow – I – Shit, Justin.

Justin: Sorry… you asked.

Brian:  Yeah – be careful what you ask for – it may come with a hell of a bite.

Brian: I’m a word guy – it's what I do – but there isn’t a word for how sorry I am, Justin – I didn’t know.

Justin: And now you do – doesn’t change anything – but the past can’t be changed, it's over – stop beating yourself up over it.

Brian: If only it were that easy – I gotta run… ttyl… I love you, Justin.

Justin sat staring at his computer, eyes misty and heart pounding. What the fuck was that? Who the fuck was that? How was he supposed to find his footing and move on with his life when the very ground beneath him was falling away piece by piece?

/~/

Over the next few days, Justin received at least one delivery per day, each one sillier than the last.

The first one was a box of socks, with a memo attached that read “I’m sorry for my mistakes. If you give me another chance, I promise to knock your socks off.”

Next was a 5 lb box of beef jerky with a sign attached that said “I’ve been such a jerk”

The next was an envelope containing 25 custom made ‘cuddle coupons’, with hysterical little gay cartoon couples on them.

Then, the first day of his solo show, Justin found a custom made box of bandaids in his carryall. Each one sported a sad face, with a logo that said “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

/~/

Brian had been waiting for this day to come. Justin’s solo show was one he had been both looking forward to as well as fearing. He knew from past experience that Justin’s work always touched him at his very core, and he had no doubt that tonight would do that...and more.

Brian entered the showroom, not at all surprised to see that it was already packed wall to wall with fans, supporters, photographers, reporters, critics, and every other type of art aficionado you can think of.

He also wasn’t surprised at the amount of work that already had stickers placed, letting those who didn’t get their wishes in early enough know that the pieces were already sold. Justin’s work was exquisite, as always.  He was fascinated as he walked from one display to another, to see the variety and creativity that he had come to expect, but yet still amazed him, not having watched it come together.

As he walked around one particular corner, his breath caught in his throat, and he had to remind himself to breath.

When had these been done? It must have been recently, given the fact that the first depicted Brian being left behind, years apart, but in strikingly similar positions, one of which happened only last week. He heard a strange sound and realized that it has come from his own throat.

The second picture captured only eyes – saying many different things – but all recognizable. This was made all the more remarkable by the fact that once again they depicted various times – then and now - and done from memory meant that these visions existed still in Justin’s brain whether old or new.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and Brian felt almost naked in the way these images bared his feelings and laid them open and exposed them for all to see.

It was the third picture, though, that made him gasp, tears immediately springing to his eyes. How had Justin possibly captured, all together in one painting, each and every nuance of what he was feeling that night in the hotel? Every contrast, each contradiction, every single emotion, even ones he couldn’t explain or consciously remember, was right there for the discerning eye to see, and suddenly he needed to get out of there. No one could see and recognize what he so readily saw when he looked at this grouping.

Turning toward the door, he swiftly made his way through the crowd and out into the night air, willing his lungs to work and his legs to keep moving him forward.

/~/

Not long after Brian left the showroom, Justin’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Wondering who might be calling him on a show night, he looked down and recognized a PM from Brian.

Brian: Please Justin, meet me at our deli after the show. I know there is probably a celebration dinner planned, but I really need to see you. Please.

Justin read the text again and again, unsure what to do. On the one hand he knew that if he continued to see Brian, he might not be able to continue to resist his advances.

On the other hand, Brian had never, ever, in his entire life, asked Justin for anything, other than sex of course, with as much passion and need as was evident in this post.

Justin: OK – but not until after 11. I’ll meet you there.