Running Deep - by silmarwen_85 (Oneshot, for now)

Hi fellow fans! as i'd mentioned on some other post i made AGES ago, i wrote a little oneshot over christmas break. it was for the QaF gift exchange over at livejournal, and therefore is a very first for me. i wrote a CSI miami fanfic some five years ago, and only a few drabbles since then, so please be gentle with your reviews, but i DO want honest ones...on anything. the flow of language, choice of words, imagery, dialogue, characterisation, etc. just remember, this is unbetad, and that i am aware that some issues remain unsolved. i've gotten some comments on my lj post of this, that i should do a sequel...i might, but not at this time.
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anyway, on to the fic:

Author: silmarwen_85
Title: Running Deep
Gift Request: sfscarlet asked for a B/J reunion fic.
Rating: R for language and gruesomeness (depends on the reader’s touchiness)
Summary: Justin has a little accident and is too afraid to ask Brian for help.
Warnings: self-mutilation (cutting) and possible OOCness
Genre: Post 513, Reunion Fic, Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 2,576
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Cowlip and Showtime. Taking the original plot this direction was my idea.
A/N: For the Queer as Folk gift exchange 2008. This is my first attempt at writing QaF fanfiction, so be warned of amateurness.


Running Deep

The red stood out in stark contrast to the pale, white tone of the background, a mirror image of the emotions that had taken hold of Justin as of late. The ones he was showing on the outside, and those he was feeling on the inside. The lines left behind by the dark color painted a picture of pure helplessness and anger, wrapping themselves around the lighter one of hope and dreams of the future. A future that seemed so far out of reach now, that Justin had problems getting out of bed in the mornings.

As Justin watched the liquid run down the smooth surface, he thought back on the past two years he had been spending making a name for himself in the art world of New York City.

Leaving Brian lying alone on the bed after their last bout of frenzied love making, with only a whispered ‘I love you’ as a goodbye, had taken its toll on Justin as soon as he’d arrived at his new apartment in New York, and he’d seriously thought of taking the next plane right back to Pittsburgh.

Trying to ignore the voice in his head telling him that he’d just made the second biggest mistake of his life, Justin had jumped at the workload that finding an agent entailed. He’d made several copies of his portfolio and went on the hunt for a willing representative of himself and his art, dropping his collections of work onto every office desk in the south of Chelsea. Though it helped when work started coming his way, and he was elated doing what he loved and earning money with it, it was always hard to pretend he didn’t feel the heavy lump of yearning that planted itself deep in his gut every time Brian had to leave after his bi-weekly visits. Those where the highlights of his life at the moment, and he had arranged his schedule around those weekends, making sure that he had no work to do during Brian’s stays.
Brian would come Friday afternoons, and leave again on Sunday late evenings. The time in between was spent eating, fucking, and, yes, even talking to their hearts content. Brian would tell Justin all bout the new account he’d just nailed, and Justin would update Brian on how far he’d come to finish the commissions of his next showing. The days that Brian didn’t visit were filled with phone calls and IM sessions, during which Justin would seem like a pig wallowing in a heap of dung. He’d talk excitedly about his day to day occurrences and tell Brian how living in the Big City was the most exhilarating time of his life.

Though they never talked about that part of their relationship, Justin knew that Brian had cut down radically on his tricking. Brian would take, may be, a guy or two a week into the backroom, and knowing that made Justin even more miserable about having left for the Big Apple, since it showed him how Brian had actually changed out of his own will and not because he’d thought Justin wanted him to.

No one knew about Justin’s double edged emotional state, not even Brian. Especially not Brian. Justin didn’t want him knowing that he was miserable being so far away from him because Brian had been the one who had thought that Justin moving to New York was a dream come true for the artist. That he’d be doing something good for Justin, doing something Justin wanted, for at least this once.
Now, 24 months after having started his career in New York, Justin was looking forward to his very first own showing. He was proud to know that the quality of his work was good enough to warrant filling up a gallery in Chelsea with his work alone. A smile crossed his lips as he thought of the pride he’s see reflected on Brian’s face.

Brian.

Justin sighed.

Brian hadn’t been able to come for his last four weekend visits, and because Justin didn’t have the money to make the trip, keeping up his starving artist image, the two lovers hadn’t seen each other at all these past two months. Long distance phone calls could only do so much, and Justin was missing Brian terribly. Adding to that was the fact that Justin hadn’t been able to paint anything these last weeks, though the art showing was moving steadily closer. And this slump didn’t have anything to do with his muse, it was something much worse.
Three weeks ago Justin had been working like a man possessed, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to finish all the paintings he’d set himself for the showing. He’d been working so hard and for hours at a time that even his agent, Lisa Shoemaker, had become worried. Lisa informed Brian about Justin’s lack of taking it easy, and he immediately called the blonde to give him a good reaming.

As luck would have it, just the next day as he was mixing some colors, Justin suddenly felt his vision go blurry and the floor slipping from underneath him. He scrambled for purchase, taking hold of the empty easel closest to him. He heard the air rush past his ears and the crack of wood against the floor just before a blinding pain spread out from a spot at his temple and the lights went out.

Just a slight concussion, the doctor had said. Fuckin’ doctors, what did they know! All Justin knew was that, since his little accident, his right hand had started to tremble again. Before, Justin had been able to paint without any problems for at least half a day, and sometimes it wouldn’t hurt at all. Now he couldn’t hold a brush for more than half an hour.

He hadn’t told anyone about it, not even his agent. He was afraid that if the gallery got even a little wind of it, his show would promptly be cancelled. He just couldn’t miss that opportunity, didn’t want to see Brian’s disappointment if he found out that his ex-fiancé hadn’t made it in the art world. Brian would of course argue that it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t done it on purpose. But it had been of his own doing. It was his fault for not taking better care of himself.

Shit.

It hurt like hell once his hand began to spasm, and for fear of making it worse and noticeable for other people, he hadn’t worked on any of his unfinished pieces for weeks. He would look like a complete amateur once everyone saw that Justin Taylor only had a handful of passable works to call his first big show.

Justin cut another line across his arm with the blade, watching the red blood paint streaks along his pale skin, his most recent canvas. Though the pain was sharp and the sting wouldn’t go away for while, it helped Justin alleviate his anger at the direction his life was currently taking.
---

The only color decorating the otherwise blank canvas was that of a pitch black, it was the only color Justin currently felt comfortable with using. It moved in curves along the smooth surface, drawing endless lines of a road going nowhere. The paint brush was just leaving another path of emptiness when it suddenly made a sharp turn to the right.

“Oh, fuck that SHIT!” Justin screamed. The brush flew in a long arch across the room, hitting the wall with dull thud. “And fuck everybody else too!”

Justin leaned heavily against the table that held all his paints, covering his face with his left hand and taking a deep breath. Opening his eyes again, he took a last look at the canvas currently placed on his easel before it followed the path the paint brush had just taken.

“Shit, what am I gonna do?”

…

“Justin?”

Justin whirled around, his eyes going wide. “Brian? What are you doing here?”

“This wasn’t how I’d hoped to be welcomed after two months of not seeing you, Sunshine,” Brian said, a little amused. ”But I guess I came at the wrong time. What’s got your titties in a twist?”

“Sorry, I’m just not in a good mood today, I guess.” Justin apologized, making his way over to where his lover was standing in the doorway to his studio room. Once there, he enveloped Brian in a tight hug. “I missed you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Brian said relieved. He didn’t feel like doing any damage control tonight after having a for-shit trip, though seeing the smashed canvas lying in the corner of the room worried him a little.

Justin saw Brian looking in the direction of the mess he’d just made. “I was having a little problem with that piece,” he sighed, pointing at the remnants of his last painting.

“Would a remedy fuck help relieving some of your stress, Mr. Taylor?” Brian asked.

“It certainly would, Mr. Kinney.” At least for a while, Justin thought.
---

continued in the next post

Running Deep continued
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Brian woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep, too many thoughts were going through his head, keeping him wide awake. Therefore he watched Justin’s chest rise and fall to the sound of his breathing instead. He had been shocked to see his sunshine loose it like that. Justin didn’t know, but Brian had just come through the door when he’d thrown the brush across the room. It had unnerved him, to say the least, to see Justin that angry. It reminded him of another time Justin used to meet things that annoyed him with violence and aggression. A time when Justin used to wear pink.

After three rounds of doing the horizontal tango the night before, both men were ready to go to sleep. Brian had gone to the bathroom to relieve his bladder one last time, and upon returning to the bedroom, found Justin fast asleep under the covers, wearing a long sleeved shirt. The last time he’d done that was just after returning from the hospital. He’d used to wear them because they’d made him feel more secure and protected from his surroundings. Something must have happened to make Justin re-live the bashing, Brian thought.

Again.

Brian heard Justin take a deep breath before turning to face his way. The movement caused Justin’s sleeve to ride up his arm a little.
Brian gasped.

There were cuts, deep, angry welts, covering Justin’s lower arm. Brian felt devastated. He quickly got up and fled to the bathroom, afraid he’d wake up Justin if it got too hard to keep in his emotions. Brian looked at himself in the mirror.

“What the…”…FUCK! Brian shouted inside his head. Why hadn’t he noticed? If Justin resorted to cutting himself up like that… Shit, what was going on with his sunshine?!

Brian tried to remember the recent phone calls they’d shared, but Justin had always seemed so excited about his life in the big city, so sure about the choices he was making. Something must have happened that had made his emotions, and his mind, run amok. Brian had to find out, and quickly. He’d have to have a long talk with Justin, and though he despised having to sit down and blabber about his feelings, he would do anything to make sure his sunshine was happy.
---

Justin woke up some time after 10 am, and when he found the space beside him empty, got up in search for his lover. He found Brian in his small kitchen, sipping at a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

“Mornin’,” Justin said through a yawn. “Did you keep some coffee for me?”

“Justin -”

Oh oh, Justin thought. Brian using that don’t-bullshit-me voice never meant any good. He didn’t turn around, keeping his eyes locked on the cup he’d just poured himself.

“Justin, look at me.” The blonde turned around to face his obviously angry lover. “Justin, what are those marks on your arms?”

Justin went deathly pale at that. Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!

“Ehm,” Justin’s eyes darted around the room. ”I…didn’t I tell you? I went to a climbing hall with friends and I slipped. It was just the other…”

“Don’t bullshit me, Justin! Those are clean cuts! From a blade!” Brian said, getting angry.

“Brian, leave it alone!”

“But Justin…”

“LEAVE IT!” Justin yelled, catching Brian off guard. “Just leave it….alone.”

Brian got up from his chair and opened his arms wide. Seconds later he had his hands full of blond.

“Alright, I’ll leave it. But only because I trust that you come to me whenever you need help. Got that?!”

Justin nodded into Brian’s shoulder, drawing strength from his strong embrace.
---

A week later, Brian was taking a hot shower after a long and stressful day of work at Kinnetik. Since leaving New York, Justin had called Brian every night but still hadn’t heard a word out of Justin’s mouth about the reason behind those cuts he had seen wrapped around the underside of the artist’s arm.

When the water started to turn cold, Brian got out of the shower and dried himself with the fluffy towel that hung over the hanger-like heater on the wall. Entering his bedroom, he did a double take as he saw a desperate looking Justin sitting on the edge of the platform bed.

“I wanna come home,” Justin said in nearly a whisper. Brian nodded, signaling him that he was ready to hear him out. “I have a problem, Brian. Several in fact,” he turned his head to look up at the older man. “Those cuts you saw. … When I lost consciousness after hitting my head on the table… My hand started trembling again, Brian, and it’s worse than ever before,” He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I think this time I’m really fucked.”

Brian rushed over to Justin’s side just as the first tears started to fall. He closed his arms tightly around the blond, never wanting to let go again. Though he was thrilled to hear that Justin wanted to come back, he was furious with whatever gods there were that Justin had to go through something like this again. Why was it that a near disaster had to bring them together once more?

“I haven’t been able to finish any of the paintings I’ve been working on before the accident,” Justin said with a trembling voice. He’d told Brian about his little mishap during one of their IM sessions. ”And the show is in less than a month! What am I going to do, Brian? What?!” Justin sobbed into his lover’s shoulder. “Brian, I think I need help.”

“Shhhh, Sunshine. It’s going to be okay,” Brian soothed. “I’m glad you came to me. Where going to get through this together, okay?”

“But what about New York, and my show? You’re going to think me a looser.”

“Don’t worry about that, Sunshine. It’s all gonna work out. We’re going to find someone that you can talk to about your worries, and I’ll bet with you that Lisa will be able to work out how to keep your name flawless. After all, if I wouldn’t have trusted in her abilities, I never would have agreed to sign her contract with you.”

“You really think so?” Justin asked hopefully.

“I do. I want you save, Justin. And if that means you coming home, I’m more than fine with that.”

The End