See Me Through

Author's Notes: Thank you to noteverything for being my beta and your usual wonderful self. Title is predictably taken from an Erasure song.

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The move to New York happened so quickly, Justin barely had time to think about it until he was halfway there. Once the reality of what he’d done hit him, he was tempted to get right back on the first flight to Pittsburgh. But he promised himself he’d stay for at least one year regardless of whether the move proved to be an unqualified success or a complete disaster. Not surprisingly, the truth fell somewhere in the middle.

Many days Justin felt like a ghost. He moved through the city unseen, people moving past him and around him without touching him, always out of reach. Blank eyes stared at his portfolio, leaving him to wonder if it was filled with nothing but empty pages. No matter what the season, Justin felt cold on these days.

Brian was his lifeline, his voice an anchor reminding Justin that he wasn’t truly adrift in a city full of strangers. He’d close his eyes and listen to stories about Debbie giving Michael decorating advice, about Ted and Cynthia’s latest attempt to sneak an employee spa day past Brian, and about Gus’s trip to the CN Tower. Brian’s hints about emailing Lindsay and his demands that Justin call Debbie at least twice a week reminded Justin that the tangled web of connections he’d formed in Pittsburgh might be stretched by distance, but they were not weakened.

Some days Justin felt like he was marking time in New York. He knew with an unshakable certainty that something more was waiting for him. His days of sleeping on someone’s couch or sharing a tiny apartment while working his ass off every night just so he could spend his days trying to get someone, anyone, to see his art for what it was, were leading somewhere. This wouldn’t be his life forever, and Justin spent these days on edge, impatient to move past them to his future.

Those nights, it was almost painful to talk to Brian. Justin would barely get a hello out before he had his cock out and he was jerking himself off while telling Brian all the things he longed to do to him. But Justin needed more than Brian could give him over the phone, and after hanging up, he’d head to the first place he could get a free drink and a hard fuck.

Justin rarely slept afterwards, and what he never told anyone was that was when he did some of his best work. Sex brought the impatience and anticipation down to a manageable level. Then he could close his eyes and see where he wanted to, feel what he was moving toward. That is what he captured in the paintings he was most proud of.

Some mornings Justin woke up and couldn’t believe he was really in New York. Despite the struggles and the sometimes continuous rejection, Justin knew he was living a dream. One many had, but few realized. On those days, Justin couldn’t get enough of New York. The city felt alive to him, pulsing with excitement and energy he could feel down to his bones.

Justin spent every free minute walking, trying to see everything, trying to absorb what it meant to be in New York. He felt pulled in every direction, drawn from one place to the next. He wanted to walk down Fifth Avenue and see every window display; at the same time, he wanted to be at a tiny family-owned bakery eating homemade cannoli. Sometimes he followed the crowds that flocked to Times Square and Rockefeller Center only to veer off in search of the second-hand shop a friend recommended.

Justin often called Brian while he walked, taking him along on his journey and leaving long messages when Brian wasn’t available. His descriptions were a mix of what he was seeing and what he felt, first impressions and reactions all jumbled together. Brian always listened, and a few days later would come back to the conversation, adding his own insights to the experience. His trips to New York were often highlighted by visiting some of the places Justin described to him.

On Justin’s favorite days, he felt like one with the city. It was a feeling of belonging and peace, tinged by awe that came from acceptance. On these days, he felt like he truly saw New York. The beauty and the decay, the creativity and the corruption, the communities and the outcasts, all of it was laid bare for him. Justin saw it all, and regarded it not with judgment, but with simple acknowledgment.

It wasn’t the buzz of excitement he followed, but the quiet hum of everyday life. It was as if the city had taken a breath, and for that day everything slowed down. Familiar streets were filled with details he’d never noticed, and Justin felt like he could spend hours in one spot and never run out of things to see. He moved with the rhythm of the city, letting it carry him through the day.

His conversations with Brian were about Pittsburgh and Kinnetik. Justin would talk about his art or a club he found, but the time he spent exploring, the feeling of being part of the city was something he didn’t have words for. Late at night, he’d email Brian pictures he’d taken throughout the day. He didn’t remember taking most of them, but they were the pictures he tacked to his wall and looked to for inspiration.

New York was everything Justin expected and so much he could never imagine. His first year there was frustrating, exhilarating, and an endless battle to succeed. For every triumph there seemed to be a hundred defeats, but it was the good days he remembered. Justin never expected to be an overnight success, but he could already see where the doors were opening for him. New York didn’t quite feel like home, but even though Brian wasn’t there with him yet, the one thing he never felt was alone.

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