Summary: Chapter 2 of the Episode 513 Gap filler Miniseries. Justin is in NY and sees a news report….
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of QAF. Sadly.
Special thanks: Crazyevildru, rromantic, jans_inentions, wouldbedorothy, and sapphire_3 for being my inspiration in all my fics. J
Songs: “First day of my life”-Bright Eyes
‘Heart of the matter”-Don Henley
I am colorblind,
Coffee black and egg white.
Pull me out from inside.
I am ready.
I am ready.
I am ready.
Blue. Red. Yellow. Splatters. Long strokes. It just poured out of me. Out of anger. Sorrow. Love. Poured out because it was the only thing that kept me going in this god-forsaken city. I looked over at my bed, well not much of a bed, just a mattress on the floor, and stared at the painting above it. I had painted it the first day I came to NY. My plane landed and I painted it right in my hotel room that night. I didn’t want to forget his face. I wanted to paint it while the memory was still fresh in my mind. So I hung it above my bed. It was the last memory I had. Him standing by the window, the Pittsburgh lights behind him. He was naked and he just looked down, hair in his face. It was the last time I had seen him. I wanted to remember that moment forever. I wanted to remember him that way. Perfect. When I paint the memories pour out of me.
I had gotten one phone call since I had left. It was the morning after I had left the loft. The rainstorm was so bad it had delayed my plane almost 24 hours. I sat in the terminal the entire time, in the same chair, just thinking. Thinking how I could live without Brian. How my life was going to be without seeing him everyday. Sleeping next to him. Feeling him next to me, inside me. When I paint the pain questions pour out of me.
My cell rang at around 8:30 in the morning. I saw his number come across my screen and I almost didn’t answer. Maybe he just wanted to see if I landed safely.
“What’s up?” His voice is stern. It wasn’t a question.
“Your plane was delayed. For about 24 hours. And you’ve been sitting in the fucking airport all night instead of being home. With me”.
“Yea fuck you”
The line went dead.
I hadn’t heard from him since. I got my mail sent to me in large manila envelopes. No note. Nothing. Just mail. Stuff that I had forgotten came soon after that. In a box. No return address. When I talked to my Mom all she said was she saw him occasionally. He was always polite. But never asked about me. But there was one thing she did tell me that gave me hope. He hadn’t contacted her about selling Britin yet. When I paint the hope pours out of me.
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding.
So that morning I let the art pour of me just like any other day that I missed him. His scent. His voice. His arms. I fucking missed Brian Kinney so much it hurt. I missed hearing him mumble to himself. I missed feeling his heat next to me when I slept. I missed the kisses that stopped the world. I missed his smile when I was being goofy and he couldn’t help but laugh at me. I missed his smile when he was being goofy. Trying to juggle like the first night we were together, and him teaching me how and me failing miserably but him not caring. He would just smile. So all I could do was paint. And paint. The faint sound of the TV filled the void in the studio. When I paint the yearning pours out of me.
“In national news, the reopening of the gay dance club Babylon in Pittsburgh is scheduled for tonight. It’s the first time the doors will be open since the bombing that took place there nearly 6 months ago, during a charity event to protest an anti gay act known as Proposition 14. The bombing killed 4 and injured over 60”
I whirled around and stared at the TV. What? He was reopening Babylon? Oh my god.
“After much rebuilding and support from the locals, owner Brian Kinney will reopen the doors tonight in the hopes that the community can bond together again. “
And there he was. His face flashed across the screen, a videotape of him inside Babylon pointing to things he wanted the contractors to fix. He looked beautiful. When I paint his beauty pours out of me.
“When asked what his inspiration to rebuild so quickly was, Mr. Kinney was happy to answer…
‘This is who I am. Who we all are. Some place where we can come and not be afraid to be who we really are. The only way to rise above is to keep going. Never look back. But never forget where you came from’
He looked so fucking amazing. I swallowed. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even hear the TV anymore. All I could do was stare at him. My heart hurt. I felt like I was going to throw up. I turned around to start to paint again and I couldn’t. I couldn’t even lift my brush. All I could do was picture his face. And think about him dancing at Babylon. Dancing without me. Dancing with someone else. Getting his dick sucked in the back room. I picked up a can of green paint and threw it against the wall. When I paint the anger pours out of me.
The trust and self-assurance that lead to happiness
They’re the very things we kill, I guess
Pride and competition cannot fill these empty arms
And the work I put between us you know it doesn’t
Keep me warm
I couldn’t breathe. I paced the floor. I chain-smoked. I cried. What had I done? I left him. I hurt him. Why didn’t I go back that night? I could have slept in bed with him one last time. But no Justin needed to be strong. He needed to make a point. And to who? Myself? The only point I made to myself was how fucking pathetic I was. How fucking stupid I was that I had thrown everything I had ever wanted out the fucking window? For what? To be a fucking artist!! I could be an artist in the Pitts. Why did I need to go to NY? Why did I let Lindsey put this shit in my head? Why did I let Brian convince me this was what I wanted? Why the fuck did I walk away? When I paint the regret pours out of me.
I looked around the studio in a panic. I ran to the closet and pulled out a duffle bag. I shoved as many clothes in it as I could. Couple of day’s worth? No. More like a couple of month’s worth. I grabbed my jacket, keys and cell and headed out the door. I left the TV on and the painting I had been working on was left sitting on the table. None of it mattered. All that mattered was me getting home. I had to be home. I had to see him. When I paint the love pours out of me.
So instead of my art pouring out me, this time it will be my heart.
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don't know where I am, don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go
I hailed a cab and threw my bag into the seat next to me.
“Where to?” the driver asked me.
“JFK” I answered out of breath.
Jesus what am I doing? Leaving everything behind? I dialed my agent’s number.
“David, I need to leave town for a while” I tell him
“Umm Justin, you have an opening tomorrow.”
“I know but I need to go somewhere. Its important”.
“More important than your art? Justin what the hell did you come out here for then? This is your OPENING. Your big break. What the hell is so important? Where are you going?” He is angry.
“Where I came from” I flip the phone shut and stare out the window at the city I was leaving behind. My dream. The chance I took. But I had left behind the one thing that inspired me the most to paint. My muse. My everything. When I don’t paint, it’s because nothing pours of me.
This is the first day of my life.
I'm glad I didn't die before I met you.
But, now I don't care, I could go anywhere with you
and I'd probably be happy.
I needed to tell him. I needed him to know that again Justin Taylor had made mistake. I ran through the airport to the ticket counter. I felt like everything else was in slow motion. My determination pouring out of me.
“One ticket to Pittsburgh international please” I ask.
“Round trip?” the woman asks me smiling.
And so I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever, I especially am slow
But I realized that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home?