Always Will
One year had passed since Ben had died. It had been hard. It had been long. It had been painful. Sometimes Michael didn’t know he’d make it another day. Sometimes he’d spend hours just curled up in an old blanket that still, somewhere in it, had tiny skin particles and hair and all that other stuff people shed constantly buried in it. He’d clutch Ben’s glasses and hide in that blanket and shut his eyes and pretend. He’d pretend that the love of his life was still here. He’d pretend that at any moment he’d wake up and Ben would be lying next to him, worried about the nightmare Michael had been having.
But it wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. They’d had such little time together before he went. Michael would get angry, sometimes. He’d yell and scream when no one was there. He’d cuss and throw things and break things and then he’d collapse into angry sobs. How could Ben have let himself get infected? How could he trust someone like that? How could he be so stupid? How could he leave Michael?
Then he’d pick himself up, and remind him that in a way, the disease had made Ben into the man he loved. In a way, Ben became who he was because of it. He became Michael’s hero. He became Michael’s true love.
One year had passed, and the constant nightmares were fading. The pain was fading. The anguished nights spent throwing up because he simply couldn’t process any more pain were happening less and less frequently.
Had he accepted Ben’s death? No. He’d never accept it. Had he realized that that was the way it was? That he could either lie down and die, or move on, and live, the way Ben would have wanted him to? Could he live up to Ben’s expectations? Could he learn to laugh and love again?
He wanted to try.
Which is why he was at his best friend’s door at exactly midnight. It was the official beginning to the official one-year anniversary of Ben’s death, and he needed his best friend.
“Hey Mikey,” Brian said, stepping aside so Michael could come in. He was wearing his old jeans and a tank top and there was already a tin of joints on the table and a bottle of Beam ready to be drunk. He’d known Michael would come.
“If you need to sleep-“ Michael started, but Brian cut him off.
“Shut up and get inside already, you’re letting all the fucking warm air out.”
Michael came into the loft and Brian shut the metal door behind him and he almost felt trapped. He was scared. He was terrified.
“Fuck, I hate winter. Maybe I should expand Kinnetik to somewhere warmer, like ml:namespace prefix = st1 />
“You can’t do that,” Michael said weakly. “Then I’d be here all alone.” He’d meant for it to sound like a joke, but it came out more pathetic and needy.
Brian shot him a look, eyebrow raised. “Which is why you’d have to come along,” he said. He picked up a joint and lit it, inhaling slowly.
Michael approached Brian slowly, pulling off his scarf and coat, and sat down next to him and stared at the open letter on the table. He’d already read it a few days ago, and he was sure Brian had already memorized the entire thing. Yet here it was, out in the open, as if his best friend needed the painful reminder. As if he was taking a hot iron to an open wound to shut it.
“So, how are you?” Brian asked in a carefully bored tone that hardly masked his real concern.
Michael shrugged and took the joint, inhaling and breathing out a cloud of smoke before responding. “About as good as you’d think.”
Brian grunted in response and poured them each a shot of Beam. “Me, too,” he said.
Michael slowly shifted over so his arm was pressed against Brian’s, his cold skin against the warmth of his best friend’s body. It was familiar. It was safe.
The joint passed between them silently, as they stared at the letter, and at the snow falling outside, until it was gone. They had to be stoned to talk, and Michael had a feeling Brian knew there would be talking tonight.
“He’ll do well in
“Don’t fucking start,” Brian grunted. “You’ve got enough shit on your mind.”
“I’ve complained enough,” Michael replied, swallowing his shot of Beam quickly. “I’m tired of complaining and crying. It’s your turn.”
“I don’t like pity, it-“
“Makes your dick soft. I know. But if you’d talk about your problems for a while, maybe I could worry about you enough to stop feeling bad for myself,” Michael said.
Brian was silent for a moment, and then he picked up the letter. “Ten years,” he said.
“It’s a long time.”
“And it’s already been five,” Brian said. His voice was tense and throaty, like he was angry. Like he was hurt. Michael was glad to hear it. He should be.
“It’s not like you’re old,” Michael said, finally turning his head to look at his best friend’s face. There were a few thin lines around his eyes, but he was still beautiful. He was the second most beautiful man Michael had ever known. “When he comes back-“
“That’s not the point,” Brian said. “He isn’t asking me to wait. He’s asking me to let go.” Now his voice was soft, and sad, and he sounded like he was all cried out, too.
“He’s being a selfish asshole,” Michael said. He knew he shouldn’t talk badly about Justin, but it was impossible to keep his mouth shut tonight.
“Just like I taught him,” Brian replied with a fond tone.
“And then how it ends,” Michael said, pointing at the bottom of the letter. “I’ll always love you? That’s bullshit.” He knew he was using his ‘bitch’ tone, but he couldn’t help that, either.
Brian turned his head and stared into Michael’s eyes. Now that they were facing each other they were so close it would have been uncomfortable if it were anyone else.
“He’s stringing you along. He’s trying to keep you from moving on,” Michael said.
“Maybe,” Brian replied, setting the letter down. “But I taught him that, too.”
Michael grabbed another joint and lit it, and they smoked quietly again for a few minutes.
“Where’s your ring?” Brian finally asked, and Michael glanced down at his finger, where there was still a pale indentation.
“Where’s yours?” Michael snapped back angrily.
Brian pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Two rings were inside.
“Fuck,” Michael whispered. “Sorry.”
Brian shrugged and set the open box on the coffee table.
Michael pulled two rings from his own pocket and set them down next to the box.
The joint was finished and they each let out a long sigh. Getting high was wonderful. Sometimes Michael thought that the only thing that kept him going was this. He could forget, he could let go, and he could feel light and safe, even if it was just for a little while.
“We should put them away,” Brian said.
“We should burn them,” Michael said.
“We should melt them down and forge something more useful,” Brian said.
“Like a gold dildo?” Michael asked.
Brian let out a short choked laugh. “It would be fucking tiny.”
“A cock, ring, then!” Michael replied, giggling.
“Just one?” Brian asked, beginning to giggle himself.
“We could take turns with it!” Michael said, bursting into full laughter.
Brian snorted and nudged Michael with his elbow. “Kinky.”
Michael rested his head on Brian’s shoulder and sighed, shutting his eyes. Brian’s arm slipped around him, and he nuzzled his face into his best friend’s neck.
“It always felt weird,” Michael mumbled.
“What did?” Brian asked, his voice thick with repressed emotion.
“Being married.”
Brian snorted. “I wouldn’t know.”
Michael winced, but continued. This suddenly seemed important. Maybe it was because he was high, but it did. “I always thought it would be us.”
Brian was silent now, and Michael knew his tongue was in his cheek, and his eyes were shut.
“I mean, even if we were just friends,” Michael continued, “I thought it would always just be the two of us. Like we were going to be together forever. Even if we never had real boyfriends. Even if we ended up-“
“Two old queens-“ Brian cut in.
“On a beach somewhere,” Michael finished.
Brian grunted and Michael could feel him nod. “Me, too.”
“Guess we ended up where we were supposed to be, after all,” Michael said softly.
“Do you regret it?” Brian asked.
“Regret what?”
“Ben.”
“Never,” Michael said. “You can make fun of me if you want, but he was the love of my life. It was worth it. No one will ever be like that to me again.”
Brian was silent for a long moment, and then he spoke softly. “I know what you mean.”
“But no one will ever be like you are to me, either,” Michael said.
Brian was silent again, and then Michael felt him place a kiss on the top of his head. “Me, too,” he said in a low voice.
“That’s okay, I think,” Michael replied, sitting up and looking into Brian’s eyes. They were darker, almost totally green, like they were when he was really emotional. “To love people equally, in different ways. To be in love more than once.”
Brian smirked weakly and shrugged. “Ben wanted you to be happy, Mikey.”
“So does Justin,” Michael replied.
Brian pursed his lips and stared at Michael before shrugging. “He’s never coming back.”
Michael didn’t know if Brian meant Ben, or Justin, or both of them… but it was true. They weren’t.
That’s when Brian’s lips touched his.
They were warm, and soft, and familiar, but the kiss wasn’t the same. This wasn’t the same type of kiss Brian had given him before. This wasn’t a kiss between friends. This wasn’t a kiss to shut him up. This was different. This took his breath away and instantly made him hard. He hadn’t been hard like this in a long time.
When Brian pulled away Michael realized he hadn’t kissed back at all. He’d been too shocked, and now his best friend had a look in his eyes that meant he’d misunderstood. He thought Michael didn’t want it. So Michael grabbed the front of his tank top and yanked him into another one.
This one was even better. This one was hot, and wet, and there was tongue. Fuck, there was tongue. There was Brian’s lips, his tongue, his saliva, his mouth…
This time when they parted, they just rested their foreheads against each other’s and breathed, eyes shut.
“I don’t want to-“
“You’re not,” Michael cut Brian off quickly.
“You don’t know what I was going to say,” Brian said softly.
“You don’t want to lead me on. You don’t want me to think you’re using me.”
Brian just shrugged, but he didn’t pull away.
“You’re not,” Michael repeated.
“How do you know?” Brian asked.
“Because you’ve changed, Brian Kinney.”
“Because of him,” Brian said.
“And so have I. Because of my own ‘him’.”
“And that makes this alright?” Brian asked. His voice was thick and low, and his eyes slid open.
Michael stared into them, too close to focus his own eyes properly, only seeing a hazel blur. “I love you,” he said.
“Always have, always will,” Brian responded.
“That makes this okay,” Michael said. For once he sounded sure of himself. For once he was. Justin had changed Brian. He’d made him into a man that didn’t fear love. He’d made him into a man that wouldn’t use the people he cared about. He’d made him into someone that wouldn’t hurt Michael. And Ben had made Michael into a man that loved people for who they were, not who he wanted them to be. He made Michael into a man that could love Brian as a man, not a hero.
“You mean too much to me to fuck it up, Mikey,” Brian said, finally pulling away enough to look into his best friend’s eyes.
Michael felt a slow grin come over his face. “Brian, if you haven’t fucked it up yet, you’re not going to. Believe me. You’ve done worse things than care about me.”
“When did you become so fucking confident?”
“When you became a nice guy,” Michael responded.
Brian chuckled, low in his chest, and slid his hand into Michael’s hair, like Michael had seen him do to Justin so many times. It felt good. It made him even harder, if that was possible. It made his skin flush. “And what if he comes back?”
Michael shrugged.
“He’s not coming back,” Brian said in a resigned tone.
“I don’t think so,” Michael said.
There was a lot more that needed to be said. There were discussions they’d have to have. Michael would have to make it clear that he wasn’t trying to replace Justin in Brian’s life. He’d have to be clear that Brian could never replace Ben. He’d have to be clear that this was different. He loved Brian. He loved Brian in a different way than he’d used to. He loved Brian because he was his best friend, because he’d been there, because he’d supported him and held him and accepted all his screaming and crying and laughing and never once accused him of being too sad or not sad enough. He loved Brian because Brian loved him the way he was. Michael thought that maybe Brian felt the same way about him.
So they kissed again. They kissed, and somewhere along the line, Brian’s shirt came off, and then Michael’s, and then the rest of their clothes. Brian touched him, and Michael touched him back, and then Brian was inside him, and it was everything and nothing like he’d always imagined it would be.
So they made love on the shag carpet they’d gotten high on so many times before. Michael thought of Ben fleetingly, but mostly he thought of Brian, and of the way things could be now.
After they came, they lay next to each other, spent and flushed and sweaty and panting on the floor.
“Mikey-“ Brian started to say, but Michael cut him off.
“No apologies, no regrets. Remember?” Michael said softly. He rolled onto his side and rested a hand lightly on Brian’s chest, feeling his heart still racing.
Brian turned his head and stared into Michael’s eyes and slowly smirked. “A cock ring, huh?”
Michael laughed and nuzzled his face into Brian’s neck, and Brian’s arm went around him, and it was the most natural thing in the world. “Or we could just lock them up in a safe. I don’t want to pretend they never existed. I just…”
Brian nodded and tightened his arm around Michael. “Want to find a way to live without them?”
“Maybe we can do that together,” Michael said softly. He felt his eyes sting with the beginnings of tears and was surprised. He thought he’d cried himself dry ages ago.
Brian shut his eyes and kissed Michael’s lips lightly before responding. “I think we already have.”