Chapter 16 - Loneliness.

The 'Ballroom' on the second floor of the student union building looked quite festive, Brian thought, surveying the blue and gold balloons, streamers and banners. The rest of the student athletes and their families attending the Year End Athletic Awards Ceremony were sitting around the many linen-draped tables all dressed in their formal best. Even 'Roc the Panther' - the school's mascot - was wearing a fancy bow tie with his slightly moldy looking brownish-orange-furred costume. It was a sure sign that this was a serious celebration.

Just then the basketball coaches finished up their portion of the presentation and took their seats while the Dean introduced the members of the Men's Soccer Coaching Staff. Debbie, dressed in her gaudiest best, reached over and enthusiastically squeezed Brian's wrist in anticipation of what was coming. Brian smiled back at his pseudo-mom, soaking up the pride her face radiated even before they knew exactly what award Brian might be getting - all the student athletes who were to receive awards at the banquet had received special invitations but hadn't been told exactly what awards they'd be receiving. It really didn’t matter though, since Debbie and Mikey seemed excited just to have been invited to join Brian at this little event, regardless of whether or not he got any award. Brian had to admit - at least to himself - that it felt good to have someone there with him even if the thing was a bit hokey.

The Men’s Soccer coaches all got to say their piece and then they launched into handing out the awards. The first few were pissy little awards - nothing special really as far as Brian was concerned - but the athletes and their families cheered maniacally nonetheless. Finally, after the award for ‘Most Improved Varsity Player’, they finally moved on to the more interesting awards.

“We're incredibly excited to announce that this year TWO members of the Pitts men's soccer team have been singled out for recognition by the National Soccer Coaches Association of America - the governing body that oversees all collegiate soccer in the US," Gil Taylor bragged as he beamed around the room at all the expectant faces. "It's been far too long since we've had this honor, so I'm more than pleased to be the one allowed to present these awards," he turned and picked up a rather impressive looking statue graced with a golden soccer ball atop a foot high plinth and then turned back to the audience.

"This first young man has been a mainstay in our program for the past four years. He's always shown tremendous dedication to the team, has demonstrated his leadership skills over and over and has basically worked his ass off. On top of all that, he'll be graduating this May with degrees in both Marketing and Business Administration and has managed to do it all while maintaining an impressive 3.89 GPA. Because of this, the NSCAA has selected this young man for the Collegiate Scholar All-American Team. Give it up for Pitts' star varsity forward, Brian Kinney!"

The assembled crowd whooped and clapped loudly at the mention of Brian's name. In spite of his sometimes acerbic wit and blatantly alternative lifestyle, Brian was quite popular with his team mates and most of them were proud of him and his accomplishments. The noise level was increased by at least ten decibels though by the addition of Debbie and Michael's hooting and whistles. Brian actually blushed with a combination of self-pride, gratitude and embarrassment as he tried to fend off Debbie's bear hugs long enough to stand and accept his award.

With just a hint of bashfulness, Brian finally made it up to the speaker's podium, shook Coach Taylor's hand and happily raised the trophy over his head in a triumphant gesture.

"Congratulations, Brian," Coach Taylor enthused as he patted the young man familiarly on the back, his grin almost as big as Brian's own. "I knew you'd be an asset to our team from that first day I saw you playing on my niece's rec team."

Brian was too overwhelmed to say much. He was so unused to getting praise, let alone this much. He mumbled out some kind of thanks with a shy grin that was atypical for the usually brash Brian Kinney and then quickly made his way back to his table. Brian then spent the next several minutes fending off Debbie's renewed hugs and Michael's repetitive 'This is so COOL's as he proprietarily admired Brian's trophy. What with all the whispering and commotion - including all the dirty looks the little group was getting from the surrounding guests due to their disturbances - they all missed hearing most of the rest of the soccer team awards.

When Brian finally managed to quell his personal fan club's rather embarrassing adulation, he noted that the awards had already moved on to the Women's Soccer Team.

". . . this year's MVP and recently named addition to this year's US Women's National Team, Winnie Taylor!" Brian's attention perked right up at the mention of his friend's name and he applauded along with everyone else over Winnie's huge achievement. The petite brunette winked at him joyfully as she skipped past on her way up to the podium.

The rest of the awards ceremony was pretty dull. Brian only stuck around because Debbie insisted and because there was free food. As soon as the official program was wrapped up though, Brian was one of the first to get to his feet with the intention of making a rapid retreat. Michael was, as always, right on his heels and appeared ready to follow Brian anywhere so long as he could bask in the reflected glow from his much cooler friend. Debbie, however, moved significantly slower, which meant they were still a dozen meters from the door when Brian heard someone calling his name.

"Brian! Brian, wait up!" When he turned around to see who was hollering for him, Brian saw Winnie sidestepping through the crowd of guests just as adroitly as she did the defenders on a soccer field. Behind her was a whole flock of people, some of whom looked familiar.

"You didn't think I was going to let you escape without even saying hello, did you, Brian?" Winnie chided him as soon as they were close enough to speak. "Congratulations, Brian. Scholar All-American is pretty impressive," she praised, emphasizing her words with a hug and even a peck on his cheek.

"Not nearly as impressive as being named to the Women's National Team. Way to go, Win!" Brian returned the compliment.

"We're so damn proud of our little soccer star!" chimed in the tall greying blond man who'd come up behind Winnie a moment before.

"Daaaaaaddd," the embarrassed girl complained as her doting father beamed down his extravagant approval on her, adding a fatherly kiss to the cheek as well. "Sorry, Brian. This annoyingly proud and nauseatingly vocal fan is my father, Gareth Taylor. Dad, this is Brian Kinney, the friend I was telling you about."

"Oh, of course," the older Taylor replied while appraising Brian critically. "Winnie raves about you all the time, young man. To listen to my daughter, you're not only a soccer star but a budding genius as well."

Brian tried to laugh off the compliment, flustered as always when receiving any type of praise. "Thank you, sir. I think she's probably being a little too effusive with all the flattery, though . . ."

"Like hell she is," Debbie interrupted, her pseudo-maternal pride over Brian blaring loudly. "Brian here's a god damned prodigy, is what he is! He's going to hit the Advertising world with such a bang it won't know what hit it. Right, honey? You'll be selling ice cubes to the Eskimos before you know it."

"Ma! Stop it! You're embarrassing Brian," Michael added, trying to protect his friend but only making it worse, of course.

"Hahaha! Well, it's clear that you have at least a few boosters other than my daughter," Winnie's father chuckled at Brian's obvious distress. "And since everyone agrees that you're going to take Madison Avenue by storm, who am I to say differently." Opening his wallet and thumbing through several business cards, Mr. Taylor finally pulled one out and handed it over to Brian. "Marty Ryder is an old college buddy of my own. I'm sure he'd love to have such a prodigy working for him. Give him a call and tell him I sent you and I can pretty much guarantee you an interview. Good luck, Brian."

"Thank you, Mr. Taylor. Thank you! I've heard great things about Ryder Advertising," Brian stared, awestruck, at the card in his hand and then quickly reached over to shake the man's hand.

"Don't mention it! Just do a good job for Ryder," the man said before turning away to greet someone else.

"Wow! This is . . . I don't know how to thank you, Winnie," Brian was completely lost for words.

"Don't sweat it, Brian. Dad gets off on playing the whole 'connected country club insider' thing. It makes him feel important to show off exactly who he knows. Although that card will only get you an interview - you'll have to really impress Uncle Marty to get the job. He's not as much of a pushover as my Dad is," Winnie warned but smiled reassuringly up at her tall, handsome friend nonetheless.

"Hey, Cuz! Quit your flirting already. I want to get out of here before I fall into a coma from total boredom and Aunt Peach said we can FINALLY leave if I could pry you away from your adoring fans," Winnie and Brian were cut off by the appearance of a blond-haired boy of about ten years old who was now impatiently tugging at his cousin's sleeve.

"Annoying much, Jesse?" Winnie snarked at the kid who, unfazed, just gave her back a facetious smile.

"It's not like I actually WANTED to come here tonight. I get enough of hearing everyone brag on you at every other family thing we do. So, can we get the hell out of here now?" the pestering little shit nagged, causing Winnie to sigh and Brian to smile down at the pushy but personable brat.

"Sheesh. You act like getting pulled away from your Sega Genesis for one night is going to kill you. But, whatever. Just let me go thank Coach Martha and I'll be right there. See you later, Brian," Winnie gave her cousin one last look of pure disgust before hurrying off towards another group on the far side of the ballroom.

Brian had already started to look around to see where Deb and Mikey had gotten to when the short kid still standing in front of him piped up again.

"I know all about you," the blond brat announced with that odd rudeness that all cheeky ten year old boys have. "Justin talks about you all the fucking time. He's, like, completely obsessed with you, you know?"

"I-I-I don't . . . I don't know what you're talking about," Brian stuttered, thrown for a complete loop by the boy's offhand statement.

Taking a second look at the kid, he now remembered when he’d seen the boy before - it was four years earlier at that soccer game where he first met Winnie’s Uncle Gil. It was also just a few months after the episode where his father had landed him in the hospital and probably would have killed him if it weren’t for Justin’s help. Brian still wasn’t sure exactly how this boy fit into the equation. It was disconcerting enough just listening to him talk about the taboo subject of Brian’s invisible friend. How the hell was Brian supposed to respond?

"Yeah, right . . . Whatever, dude,” Jesse said when Brian still hadn’t responded further even after several moments. “If you ask me, though, you're a real shit for pretending you can't see him anymore. But hey, it's no skin off my ass. I'm not the one in love with you. Later, dude."

Brian still hadn't collected himself enough to respond before the annoying brat had vanished back into the crowd. Ten minutes later he'd found the Novotny's and the three of them were in the car on the way back to Deb's place. Brian decided not to think about little Jesse or his troubling little speech. Instead he concentrated on planning exactly how he was going to spend the rest of the night celebrating in the backroom of Babylon.

~**~**~**~**~

Big Bertha's motor rumbled and growled loudly as Brian pulled up in front of Deb's house two weeks later. Even after he turned the engine off there were several moments of ongoing knocking and clanking that didn't bode well for Bertha's future. The old girl hadn't been doing well lately but Brian was damned if he was going to sink another dime into repairing a car that couldn't even pass the state exhaust tests. Because of that failing, he'd been driving around with expired plates for more than a month already and he knew it was time to put Bertha out of her misery, but he was hoping to keep her going just long enough to get him through graduation. She'd been a good car and he'd miss her, although he WAS looking forward to finally buying a vehicle that wasn't a complete eyesore.

And, after the news he had received today, Brian knew he was one step closer to that shiny new jeep he'd had his eyes on.

Brian had to lean across the passenger seat and kick at the door handle twice before he managed to wrench open the driver's side door. He unfolded his long frame out of the car's low chassis and stretched to get the kinks out of his back before trotting across the street and up the steps to the Novotny residence. He was eager to tell his friends his big news and his steps were light. He didn't even bother knocking - he just burst through the unlocked front door and into the dingy little front room.

"Deb! Mikey! Where the fuck is everybody. I've got great news!" Brian shouted as soon as he was inside.

When his exuberant entrance didn't get any immediate response, Brian peeked into the kitchen - still no sign of anyone - and then turned and started for the stairs. Luckily he didn’t have to go up since Michael finally appeared at the top landing just at Brian grabbed hold of the banister. Michael was dressed in a pair of bright yellow spandex tights, a t-shirt with a large capital letter ‘A’ sewed over the center and had a hokey looking red cape pinned crookedly to his shoulders. He looked surprised to see Brian and his habitual look of adoration for his friend was tempered with more than a little embarrassment over his current ensemble.

*Hehehe* “What the fuck happened to you, Mikey?” Brian chortled at his geeky friend. “It’s not Halloween yet is it?”

“Ha, ha! Very funny, Brian,” Michael stomped down the stairs and edged his way past the larger man who was blocking the bottom of the staircase. “I’m going to ComicCon with my friend Troy. We’re both dressing up. I’m Captain Astro and he’s going as Galaxy Lad. We’ve even got all-access passes for the whole weekend.”

“Oh, Mikey. You’re twenty-two. When are you going to give up your little crush on Captain Astroturf?” Brian teased, tugging at the edge of his friend’s cape as he followed him into the kitchen.

“I don’t have a crush,” Michael insisted adamantly, working to extricate his cape from out of Brian’s fingers. “I’m just a fan. And everybody dresses up at these things . . .”

“Yeah, well, get out of that getup because we’re going out,” Brian demanded, refusing to let go of the edge of the play cape. “And, where’s your mom? I’ve got news I want to share.”

“Ma’s in New York with Uncle Vic this weekend, Brian. And I’m sorry, but I really can’t go out with you tonight,” Michael protested vehemently. “This is the last night of ComicCon and I already promised Troy. Plus, they’re supposed to have George Takei - you know, from Star Trek - there and he’s going to sign his latest manga. I heard they might even be giving away free copies. I’ve really GOT to go to this.”  

“Shit, Mikey! Could you be more of a total geek?” Brian objected teasingly as his friend totally ignored him, puttering around in the kitchen and gathering bits and pieces of dross that he was shoving into what looked like an embarrassingly geeky hip sack.

“I’m not a geek, Brian. This stuff is timeless and totally collectible. Someday it’ll be worth real money.”

“Fuck that, Mikey. I want to hit Woody’s early. We’ve got some serious partying to attend to . . .” Brian started to explain his big news, all the while working to strip Mikey of his cape, but then saw the disapproving look on his friend’s face and decided to back off. If Mikey didn’t want to share his big night, Brian wasn’t going to push himself on the big nerd. “You know what, do whatever the fuck you want. Have fun at GeekCon, Mikey . . . I’m outta here.”

~**~**~**~

Brian didn’t want to celebrate stag but it seemed as if he would be on his own tonight. He had already been to the backroom twice, had downed three beers and was on his third shot of Beam when he finally acknowledged the slight pang of jealousy that flowed through him thinking about how his best friend had thrown him over in favor of the unknown ‘Troy’ and some damn IdiotCon. How could Michael, the Original Geek, have plans tonight - the one night that Brian wanted company? Brian had this absolutely life-altering news that he really wanted to share but had nobody to share it with. He briefly flipped through his mental rolodex, searching for the names of anyone else he might might want to share his big news with but came up empty. In high dudgeon, he signalled the bartender and told him to just leave the bottle of Beam this time as he poured himself another shot.

“So much for my fucking celebration . . .” Brian mumbled to himself disappointedly as he upended the bottle over the little shot glass, admiring the deep amber color of the liquid as it filled the concavity of the glass.

Glancing up a few minutes later to locate the bottle in order to pour himself another lonely shot, he noticed a familiar blond image, broken up by the shelves of liquor, sitting next to him and reflected in the mirror behind the bar.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Thought I told you to stay the fuck away from me?” Brian spat out, spraying a generous amount of whiskey as he voiced his complaint.

“It’s a free universe. I go where I need to go, Brian. And, right now, I think I need to be here regardless of whether you want me here or not,” the obstinate blond insisted with a quiet but firm resolve.

“Fuck you! I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody. I’m all I need. I’m all I’ve got. I don’t need anybody else to protect me. This isn’t some after school special where everybody is happy and helps out. This is real life. I’m the only person I can count on and I’ll be just fine as long as I remember that.” Brian punctuated his assertion by slamming the shot glass down onto the top of the bar and spilling most of the shot full of whiskey into the small puddle already collected there; expanding it further.

Justin sat impassively and simply watched the spectacle as Brian slammed back several more shots without further comment. Throughout the ensuing minutes, Brian proceeded to down more than half the bottle - one gulped shot at a time - while his ubiquitous companion maintained a quiet and passive vigil. All the while, a constant stream of interested tricks strolled by, each one retreating rapidly after being snarled at by a menacing Brian. Justin said nothing. He had known the moment he felt Brian’s presence calling him to the bar earlier that evening that his friend needed him. He just didn’t know how to help. Brian wasn’t the easiest of wards to care for.

“I got the job at Ryder, you know,” Brian finally spoke, verbalizing the underlying reason for his pathetic non-celebration. “They said they interviewed ten candidates and only two of us got hired. Ryder told me that Winnie’s dad got me the interview but I landed the job on my own merits. That’s pretty cool, right?”

“That’s exactly what I expected from you, Brian,” Justin whispered, his pride showing through in the tone of his voice. “You’re brilliant and talented. Of course you got the job.”

“I’m going to make it, you know. I’m not going to be trapped in mediocrity like my parents . . . like Mikey. I’m going to be rich and respected someday. I’ll never have to worry about money or anyone’s opinion of me ever again. I’ll be my own man.”

“You’ve always been your own man, Brian,” Justin confirmed, laying one hand lightly on Brian’s forearm and squeezing gently.

Brian glanced down at where Justin’s hand was resting on his arm. He tentatively placed his own hand atop Justin’s. A shy glance filled with longing and loneliness was aimed towards Justin’s angelic face. Brian looked around him and noted that nobody was paying him any attention at the moment - he’d long ago scared off all the tricks who’d dared to approach. It didn't look like he'd be celebrating his big news in any other asses tonight. He was all alone except for his old buddy Jim Beam and his childhood imaginary friend. So much for company. Well, fuck them all. He'd just make do with what he had.

Glancing back at the half-filled bottle of Beam, he languidly pushed that crutch away and turned instead to look at the insubstantial blond still hovering next to him.

“Wanna go somewhere and help me celebrate my inevitable success,” Brian asked the reflection in the bar mirror with enough uncharacteristic coyness that Justin was momentarily speechless.

Brian eventually turned his head towards the invisible presence sitting on the seemingly empty barstool to his left and smiled. It was one of Brian’s rarely seen but true smiles. Justin had long ago given up hoping to see more of those. It was enough to throw the usually cautious guardian spirit for a total loop. Brian wasn’t oblivious to the effect he was having on his longtime blond - he well knew his power over almost all men and many women too - and in his drunken haze he seized on it with a passion.

With one last glance around the room, Brian dismissed the entire contingent of Woody’s. Nobody here was worthy of him. There was no one here he wanted to share his little private celebration with. Except, perhaps, for the beautiful blond with the perfect ass who was still perched on the barstool next to him.

Brian shoved away the remaining shot of Beam sitting in front of him and rose with only a little wobble to his feet. Crooking his arm slightly, he slipped his hand into the front left pocket of his jeans. As unobtrusively as possible, he glanced at Justin, and with a bob of his head and a glance at his arm, offered Justin an escort out of the club.   

~**~**~**~**~

Unfortunately, by the time they made it back to Brian's dormitory, the alcohol he'd consumed back at the bar was starting to show its effects. Brian tripped as he got out of the cab but stumbled his way in through the main doors under his own steam - just barely. He waved as he passed the student manning the night security desk next to the door and loudly 'shushed' him with one finger held to his lips. Spinning around too fast for his inebriated sense of balance, the drunken lout knocked into the big trash can next to the elevators, knocking it to the floor with a loud clatter, 'shushed' the noisy trash can too and finally made it to the elevator call button. Luckily the elevator doors opened immediately. With a drunken giggle, Brian pushed the button for the eighth floor and then collapsed in the corner of the tiny elevator car. Justin quietly followed along behind his charge just before the doors slid shut.

By the time the elevator stopped, Brian was almost unconscious. Justin did manage to wrestle the larger youth to his feet and out of the elevator when it stopped on Brian's floor. He didn't know how he was going to get the much heavier man all the way down the long hallway though. Justin braced his shoulder against Brian’s chest, his weight leaning against Brian’s body to keep his unsteady friend upright. It was taking pretty much all his strength just to keep Brian propped up against the hallway wall. He didn’t think it was going to be easy to move the big lug.

Justin was still looking around blankly, trying to come up with a plan, when the door across from the elevators opened up and a tall, beefy, all-american type boy emerged. 

“Hey, Kinney!” the kid called out jovially. “It’s a bit early to be dragging in here shit-assed drunk, isn’t it? And all alone to boot? You must be losing your edge, Kinney!”

Justin was relieved when the muscle bound jock came up to them and roughly manhandled Brian until he had his arm around the drunken boy’s middle, lifting Brian half off his feet as he basically dragged him down the hall. Once at Brian’s room, the big chump rifled briefly through Brian’s jacket pocket until he found a set of keys and then used them to open up the door. Thanks to the compactness of the room, it was only a few paces from the door to the bed and then Brian’s tipsy ass was dropped rather unceremoniously onto the bottom bunk of the three set up along the right-hand wall.

Justin glided in effortlessly behind the behemoth and Brian. He watched the RA pull off Brian’s jacket and shoes, then none-too-gently pull a blanket over the top of the already snoring heap. With a last chuckle at the shenanigans of his dorm-mate, the big jock switched off the overhead light, stepped back out into the hall and pulled the door closed behind him. As soon as they were alone, Justin sat on the edge of the small twin-sized bed and allowed himself to simply gaze down at the long-time object of his singular devotion.

Brian was lying on his back, his breathing heavy and the odor of whiskey permeating the air around him. In spite of that, Justin thought he looked like a little boy again as he lay there with a lock of chestnut hair falling haphazardly over his eyes. Justin gently reached out and feathered the hair back, letting his fingers run through the silky, baby-fine hair in the process. Brian looked so peaceful in his sleep - a condition that Justin hadn’t seen in Brian for far too long. These days, usually, Brian was generally far too busy and much, much too serious all the time to evidence any such quietude. All Justin knew was that Brian was truly beautiful when he was sleeping quietly like this. Justin could literally watch him sleep for hours.  

As he watched, Brian’s sleep was disrupted slightly and the inebriated youth shifted his body. Rolling half onto his right side, Brian’s arms groped aimlessly for a moment and then, as soon as they encountered the warmth of Justin’s body sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped themselves around Justin’s slight, unearthly frame with an audible sigh. Brian’s grip was tight, even in his mostly tanked state, and Justin soon found himself being toppled forward, until his own body was lying sprawled over the top of the prone form. He didn’t struggle though. Justin couldn’t possibly. He was too overwhelmed by the feeling of Brian’s sleepy warm skin pressed against his own, Brian’s nose pressed against the crease of his neck and the long length of Brian’s sinuous body wrapping itself around him. He didn’t want to move.

This was a wholly new sensation for Justin. Back when he’d still been Justin Taylor - living boy - he had fantasized about situations like this many, many times. But, because of circumstances, he’d never actually had the opportunity to act on those imaginary flights of fancy. And then, for so many years, Justin had seen himself more as a protector and guide for a hurt young child, causing the fantasies of his youth to be pushed to the very back of his mind. All Justin’s needs and desires had been sublimated into helping Brian survive his rocky childhood for so long that he’d almost forgotten them.

However, the sight of Brian’s slightly parted raspberry lips and the steady beating of his troubled heart brought all those feelings rushing back to the forefront of his mind like water breaking through the dam of a river’s edge. Justin contemplated his next move carefully - after all, opportunities like this didn’t present themselves very often. After only a few seconds hesitation, though, Justin leaned forward and placed a tender yet chaste kiss on the lips he’d wanted to taste for so long with a whispered, “Sleep well my stubborn, beautiful, hot mess,” as he settled in to keep watch over the one who truly had the key to his soul.