The World Makes Sense

Pic coming soon

Author Notes: Title and lyrics taken from the Depeche Mode song Damaged People.

We're damaged people

Drawn together

By subtleties that we are not aware of

Disturbed souls

Playing out forever

These games that we once thought we would be scared of

Brian put the finishing touches on his hair and glanced at his cell phone to check the time. He was running a little behind, but no more than Mikey would expect. It wasn't like Babylon was going anywhere. Brian smiled enjoying the feel of anticipation an evening spent with hot young men worshiping his cock gave him. He and Michael hadn't had a night out together in a while, and they could both use it. The truth was that while Brian would definitely make it to the backroom, most of the night would be spent drinking with Michael and making fun of the other patrons. It was still something to look forward to.

Brian cast one more look at the mirror before leaving and froze. Who the hell was that looking back at him? A few minutes ago he'd looked perfect, a blend of sexuality and confidence no gay man could resist. But now he looked, Christ, he couldn't even think the word. Maybe it was the lighting. But when he looked up, all the bulbs were still working. As much as he didn't want to, Brian couldn't help looking back at the mirror. He was going to kill his fucking stylist for convincing him this was a flattering cut. Then he needed to find a way to get the name of Ted's Botox girl without letting dear old Theodore know he wasn't the only one who needed some help around the eyes.

After managing to tear his eyes from his reflection, Brian stormed out of the loft stopping only to grab his keys. There was nothing that could be done about any of it now so he tried to put it out of his mind. But the image from the mirror haunted him during the drive to Babylon. The hit of E he bought in the back alley helped erase it as did the two shots he downed on the way to the table where Michael was waiting.

"Hey," Michael stood to greet him looking a little surprised when Brian set the two empty glasses down. "Wasn't one of those for me?"

"Nope," Brian smirked. "But since I like you, I'll share my bottle." He waved away the bartender who had followed him after he set a bottle of Brian's favorite whiskey on the table. He quickly refilled the glasses and pushed one toward Michael. "To the benefits of ownership," he raised his glass briefly in a pretense of a toast. He saw the surprise in Michael's eyes turn to confusion when Brian finished his shot before Michael even reached for his. This wasn't going to be the evening Michael expected, but so the fuck what. It wasn't even close to how Brian expected to be spending his night, but he was going to make the best of it.

Hours later, Brian collapsed in his bed as Michael shut the door on his way out. He wondered idly why he wasn't unconscious yet since that certainly had been the plan. Instead he was left with the beginnings of a killer hangover, a blinking answering machine he was determined to ignore, and a mirror he had no intention of ever looking in again. At least Michael hadn't stayed to lecture him. One thing he'd been grateful for all night, besides free alcohol, was Michael's silence.

Mikey always knew when to keep his mouth shut. The only comment he'd made all night was a sarcastic, "Let me know next time you are planning to relive the past so I can make sure I don't have to work the next morning," muttered while he was shoving Brian into his car. Brian had been wasted enough to find it hysterically funny. But there was no reason for Michael to say anything. What did it matter if Brian spent most of his night in the backroom? And who cared if it had been months since the last time they closed down Babylon, or if it was the first time in longer than either of them could remember, that Michael had needed to get him home. Nothing Michael could have said would have changed any thing, and Michael knew that. Just like he knew there was no reason to mention Brian's canceled trip to New York.

When you're in my arms

The world makes sense

There is no pretense

And you're crying

When you're by my side

There is no defense

I forget to sense I'm dying

"Thank you so much for your time Justin. This meeting has been invaluable to the success of the show," the women, Justin had already forgotten her name, stood up and smiled flirtatiously.

Justin returned the smile through gritted teeth and counted the seconds until he could escape. This meeting has been a colossal waste of his time, but his agent had insisted. He'd never had to meet with any other gallery's PR person to go over promotional material, but she was new and obviously trying to prove herself. Trying much too hard in Justin's opinion. She wore her insecurities in her expensive haircut and too trendy clothes. She had also used up what little patience Justin had pretending to know a lot more about art than she did, but he knew how to play the game. "It's been my pleasure. Will I see you again at the opening?"

"I wouldn't miss it. We are expecting a very successful night. I'm sure our patrons will be as fascinated with you as I am." She stepped a little closer to Justin.

"It's always nice to have my work appreciated." Justin made sure she didn't miss the correction to just what he was planning to put on display, but smiled again to take the sting out of his words.

She took a step back then looking a bit uncertain. "Of course it's your paintings that will be talked about. But I'm sure you've noticed art lovers are often as interested in the artists as in the art especially when an artist appears to be a bit of a mystery. I mean to look at you, you seem so young and innocent, but your pieces are rather dark. People can't help their curiosity."

"Looks can be deceiving, and inspiration is a mysterious thing.' That was about as diplomatic as Justin could be, and he quickly made his exit.

He thought about her description of him later that night. "Young and innocent," Justin was amazed he hadn't rolled his eyes. He was probably older than she was, and as for innocent, Justin hadn't been innocent in years. Whatever innocence his father and Chris Hobbs hadn't beaten out of him, Brian had fucked out of him. He wondered if she would be shocked or excited to hear of all the ways Brian rid him of any innocent notions he'd had regarding sex and love.

Days like today reminded him of how naïve he'd been when he moved to New York. Oh, not in the way most people thought he'd be. Justin never had any illusions about becoming an overnight success. Despite what anyone said, he knew he wasn't going to show up and take the art world by storm. Professionally things had gone pretty much the way he expected. Five years after he first arrived in New York, he still needed a part time job and his apartment was nothing special, but he no longer had a roommate and he was showing at better galleries.

No, where Justin had been naïve was in thinking that people in New York would somehow see him more clearly. In Pittsburgh, he was always Brian's boyfriend (no matter how much Brian hated that word) or Debbie's Sunshine. It was amazing how much influence one women could have over the gay community. He'd been thrilled to get away from being Sunshine only to have it replaced by "Beautiful" and "Angel." He knew his hopes of being seen as an artist were doomed when his agent told him his looks were one of his biggest assets. "The face of an angel," she'd said, and he hadn't known whether to laugh or cry.

Justin knew if people actually paid attention to what he was saying; angel was the last word they would use to describe him. He was impatient and sarcastic, and when faced with stupidity he had a tendency to be condescending. Justin was no one's definition of sweet or innocent. But most people never saw past how he looked. Maybe he should cut his hair again. He thought back to his Pink Posse days. The outfits might have been ridiculous, but he'd looked a lot less like an angel with a buzz cut.

But Brian liked his hair long. He liked to run his hands through it when they kissed and bury his face in it first thing in the morning. He liked to pull at it when Justin was on his knees in front of him. Brian liked his hair long, and Brian knew he was no angel.

We're damaged people

Praying for something

That doesn't come from somewhere deep inside us

Depraved souls

Trusting in the one thing

The one thing that this life has not denied us

Brian woke up abruptly startled from sleep by a nightmare. Images from the dream danced just outside his consciousness, but he made no attempt to capture them. He knew what he was dreaming about and had no desire to remember the details. He felt Justin's familiar weight against his chest and was relieved to see he was still sleeping peacefully. Justin rarely had nightmares anymore, but then again neither did Brian.

They did such a good job of forgetting it ever happened that these little reminders were always a shock. And they were usually such simple things. It happened while they'd been walking back to Justin's apartment that night. It was late, and the street was almost deserted. There had been a sudden loud noise behind them, and even now Brian couldn't say what it was. And it wasn't even like Justin had freaked out or panicked. His reaction had been subtle, but Brian noticed. Justin had startled slightly beside him moving a little closer and tightening his grip on Brian's hand. It wasn't much, but they both were aware of it. Neither of them said anything, and they continued on their way as if nothing had happened.

It wasn't really that big of a deal, but it was enough to remind Brian that Justin would never feel completely safe. Right now he hated Chris Hobbs as much as he had the night of the prom. In fact, he hated him more for still being able to hurt Justin. He knew they would both spend the next couple of days remembering things better left forgotten. He wouldn't be able to forget what Justin had looked like on the floor surrounded by blood or how helpless he had felt. Brian didn't know what Justin would remember because he could never bring himself to ask. He wondered if he remembered waking up hurt and confused, or if he remembered how it felt to be told he'd never draw again. But after a few days the haunted look would disappear from Justin's eyes, and they would go back to pretending.

As he ran his hands through Justin's hair, Brian realized he was trying to find Justin's scar. It was an unconscious habit he had. Whenever he started thinking about the bashing, he needed to feel for the small scar to make sure it was still there. How odd that one swing of a bat could destroy so much and completely change their lives, but leave a mark so small it could only be felt not seen. It made so much easier to forget. The people Justin spent his days with in New York didn't even know about it, and Brian was grateful. He hated how everyone had stared at Justin after it happened, how it was still the first thing people thought of when they saw him. But sometimes it bothered Brian that there was no visible mark. He felt like there should be something that marked Justin as a survivor. There should be a mark that let people know how strong he was, that told them he wasn't to be hurt because he had already paid his dues.

Then he remembered the night Justin cast his scarf aside, and he knew Justin wouldn't want to be marked by what happened. He rejected Brian's attempt to mark himself with guilt and shame. He didn't deserve to be marked as a victim, and that's all most people would see. Brian reached for Justin's hand and traced the smooth lines of his fingers. Of course there were other ways Justin could be marked. He been thinking about it a lot lately especially since his last argument with Mikey.

He'd been bitching about something, he wasn't sure what, when Michael had interrupted him.

"When are you going back to New York?"

"What?" Brian had asked startled by the change in topic.

"Whenever you go more than a few weeks without seeing Justin you get" Michael paused seeming to struggle to find the right word before setting on, "you get like this."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? How often I do or don't see our darling Sunshine has nothing to do with my moods." Brian immediately became defensive.

Michael snorted. "You don't actually believe that do you?"

"Of course I do. He's been gone for five years. It's not like I'm pining away for him or anything. We each have our own lives."

"You're right he has been gone for five years. So what are you still doing here?"

"Trying to get rid of your best friend Mikey, I'm shocked. Don't tell me Ben is still threatened by your boyhood crush." He hoped he could irritate Michael into dropping the subject.

"I'm serious Brian. Ted says you should have expanded a year ago. What are you trying to prove by staying here?"

"Ted just wants me to leave so he can be the big fish in the little pond," Brian replied dismissively. "My life is here. I don't have any reason to leave."

Michael shook his head. "It's not the like it used to be. Lindsay, Melanie, and the kids are gone. Justin's gone. As much as I hate the changes, we're still a family. We don't need this place to tie us together anymore. You should be with Justin."

"It's not that simple," Brian insisted.

"Why can't you let yourself be happy?" Michael's voice was softly pleading.

"Mikey," Brian growled in warning. They were getting dangerously close to things they both promised not to talk about.

"Come on Brian, you know what you want. You know what he wants. Do something before it's too late. I double dog dare you to do it." His voice and words were light, but Michael's eyes were still serious.

Brian decided to let the attempt at a joke break the tension. "You were always the only one stupid enough to take a double dog dare." They both laughed willing to let the rest of the conversation go unsaid.

It wasn't Michael's words, but the look in his eye that Brian couldn't stop thinking about. He knew Ben's last hospitalization had scared them both. Luckily it had been a complication resulting from new drugs and not the onset of AIDS they all feared, but it reminded them that time was not on their side. He could see how that knowledge weighed on Michael. Brian hated it. He hated that when Michael asked him why he couldn't be happy, there was nothing left of the boy he first met in his eyes. This was a man asking Brian to have the future he wanted for himself but probably wouldn't be able to have. Michael's happily ever after came with a time limit, and Brian knew he was aware of each passing moment.

Michael had grown up. Brian never thought it would happen. There had been times in the past when he had wanted to scream at Michael to grow up already, and now he had. Brian and Debbie had stood between Michael and the world for years, but they couldn't protect him from Ben's illness. After all the years of Michael insisting that everything, especially their relationship, stay exactly the same, he'd moved on while Brian wasn't paying attention. Now Brian was the one stuck in the past clinging to the "Brian and Mikey Show." Michael was the one daring him to grow up.

Brian sighed and brought Justin's hand to his mouth for a kiss. As much as he hated to admit it, Michael was right. Maybe he wasn't ready yet, but he would be soon. He knew just as well as Michael did that no one's future was guaranteed. He pulled Justin closer and forced himself to relax even though he knew there would be no more sleep for him this night.

When I feel the warmth of your very soul

I forget I'm cold

And crying

When your lips touch mine

And I lose control

I forget I'm old

And dying

Once they arrived at the gravesite, Justin reached for Brian's hand. It was instinct, and he made no attempt to check himself. He wasn't trying to draw attention to them or cause a scene. At the same time, they had no reason to hide and nothing to be ashamed of. And maybe the petty part of him wanted to make sure that everyone knew that. From the glare she sent them, it was clear Claire had gotten the message. Justin had never met Brian's sister, but he could tell from the pinched look on her face and the tight way she held herself that Brian's claims that she became more like Joan everyday were true. Brian had even less of a relationship with Claire than he had with his mother. With Joan's death it was likely this would be the last time Brian and Claire saw each other.

Debbie and Michael stood behind them. Brian hadn't wanted anyone coming to the funeral, but Debbie insisted that it was only proper that she and Michael come since they both knew Joan. Brian relented, but refused to allow anyone else to attend. He said he was coming to make sure they actually buried her not to mourn so he didn't need any well intentioned but misplaced support. Justin knew they were both watching Brian carefully for any sign he was going to break down from suppressed grief.

Justin didn't really blame them. He'd only been on the outside of Brian's life when his father died, but even he had been able to see how hard Brian had taken it. Brian later explained that despite all the problems they had, towards the end of his life Brian's father had actually shown some signs of actually caring about his son. It was the idea that his relationship with his father could have been different that bothered Brian the most. It made him resent his father for the shitty way he treated him all over again while at the same time he regretted the closeness they never had. He said it was different with his mother, and Justin believed him.

The truth was Brian's relationship or hope of a relationship with his mother died the day she told him his cancer was a punishment for being gay. He'd finally accepted that she could never love him or accept him, and with that acceptance, she lost her ability to hurt him. Unfortunately, Joan's own guilt refused to allow her to completely let go of her son. She'd show up a few times a year promising her love and support if Brian would just repent his evil ways. If Justin was there, she would beg him to break away from Brian's corrupting influence and save himself through Christ. While her obsession with Brian's redemption was frustrating rather than hurtful, it kept old wounds from healing completely. When Justin asked Brian how he felt about his mother's death, Brian had smiled and said he felt "free."

Most people didn't notice the change, but Justin did. Something had eased in Brian; there was a shadow gone from his eyes. Justin really didn't know how to describe it, but maybe "free" was the best word. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd feel free when his father died. If it wasn't for Molly's somewhat distant relationship with their father, Justin probably wouldn't even be told. That entire side of his family had ignored him since finding out he was gay.

Craig wasn't like Joan though. He had no problem cutting his son completely out of his life. Justin couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to his father, and it honestly didn't bother him any more. He'd had years to come to terms with not having a father. The more he thought about it, Justin realized he wouldn't feel free when Craig died. He wouldn't feel anything.

Justin noticed the priest had stopped speaking, and people were starting to wander away. Claire rather pointedly turned her back to them and walked to where a cluster of Joan's relatives were waiting. Justin looked to Brian to see if there was anyone he needed to speak to, but Brian shook his head.

Brian turned them to face Michael and Debbie. He pulled Justin close to his side and kissed his hair before giving them all a relived smile. "Let's go home. There's nothing left for me here."

When you're in my arms

The world makes sense

"Brian, there is a line between fashionably late and unforgivably rude, and you are very close to crossing it," Brian heard Justin shout from the living room, but ignored him in favor of finishing his hair. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened.

"If I promise you'll be the sexiest man there, can we leave already?" Justin came up behind Brian and hugged him. His head came to rest on Brian's shoulder, and their hands met in the middle of his chest.

"I'm always the sexiest man there," Brian replied trying to sound arrogant rather than amused.

"Then let's not waste time trying to improve upon perfection." Justin didn't even try to disguise his laughter.

Brian started to answer but was distracted by their reflection in the mirror. Debbie had once told him they were both handsome men on their own, but together they were breathtaking. He finally understood what she meant. He no longer saw the few strands of grey hair that had appeared a few weeks ago or the lines around his mouth. Instead he saw how Justin's face softened when he smiled, and how the corners of his eyes crinkled as he wondered about Brian's silence. He saw the answering warmth in his own face when Justin pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Justin shifted slightly, and when the light hit the gold of their rings, it glinted back at him from the mirror. His eyes were drawn to them. They looked good, perfect even, after ten years. Of course the five years in the box might have something to do with that.

He knew the instant Justin realized what Brian was looking at because his smile brightened, and his arms tightened around Brian. "So how do we look?" he asked softly.

Brian couldn't help smiling back. "Fabulous, so let's get out of here before we're late." He turned and swatted Justin lightly on the ass pretending to hurry him along. Justin followed laughing and protesting. They did indeed look fabulous, but the word that echoed in Brian's mind was "beautiful."

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