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Adrian to Brian, Brian to Adrian Chapter 2

Image by Heather

B,

It's been three days. Please explain that remark about Justin.

A


**********************

Two days later


A,

Thanks for the advice to go to the prom, Adrian. I did go. I danced with him. It was a beautiful, ridiculously romantic moment for both of us. I loved him, at that moment, I'll admit that to you since I can't say it to anyone else. He walked me to my car. We agreed to meet later at the loft. He told me it was the best night of his life. I've never seen him so beautiful or so happy. I was on Cloud Nine myself. In a strange way, it corrected so many things that were wrong with my own high school experience. And then one of his homophobic classmates came out of nowhere and bashed him in the head with a baseball bat. He moved too fast for me to stop him. Justin crumpled to the cement. Blood was everywhere. I stopped the prick from hitting him again or from running away, but it was too late. I rode to the hospital with Justin. He looked dead. I've never seen so much blood. He's been in a coma now, since it happened. Maybe he'll come out of it, maybe he won't. It's my fault. I never should have gone there and flaunted our relationship. If I'd stayed away, it wouldn't have happened. If we didn't have a relationship, it wouldn't have happened. If I didn't care enough about him to go, it wouldn't have happened. I know everyone blames me. I blame myself. They think I'm being a bastard, out tricking and tweaking and ignoring how endangered he is. What they don't know is that I sneak over to the hospital at night when no one is around and sit in the hall outside his room and watch him sleep or whatever it is you do when you're in a coma. So, great suggestion, guy. Thanks a lot. Fuck you. I should have strangled myself when I scarfed earlier that afternoon. Might have done so if Michael hadn't butted in. At least Justin would be okay. So, how's tricks? You fuckhead.

B


************************

B,

Sorry doesn't cut it, but I'm so very sorry that this happened, Brian. I pray that he comes out of this soon with little impact on his overall health. What a tragedy. But please stop blaming yourself. It easily could have happened, even if you didn't attend the prom. Homophobes take their revenge on us in insidious ways every day. If it helps you to live with it, place the blame on me. Please do. My shoulders are broad enough to bear that weight. My arms are around you, Brian. I understand your bitterness. I won't bother you again, but know that I do care and that I would like to know how he fares. Stay strong, beautiful Brian. Stay strong for him, as well as yourself. Deep regrets,

A


*************************

Six weeks later


A,

I feel like an idiot. I was out of control. It had everything to do with self hatred and very little to do with you. Will you still accept email from me?

B


************************

B,

Of course. Understandable. I've missed hearing from you. How is he?

A


************************

A,

Better. He's out of the hospital, but still undergoing therapy for some problems with manual dexterity. Since he's an artist, that's really troubling for him. He's completely blanked out the night of the prom. The dance that seemed to mean so much is now history, but luckily so is the pain and horror of the bashing. His mother told me to stay away from him. Boy did that hurt. I told her I care for him. That's more than I've said to him. She said she believed that, and that she knew I went to the hospital every night to be with him. But it was my lifestyle that almost cost him his life. What could I say to that? He came to see me after she booted me out, so I sent him away, as she asked me to do. I feel... empty. I only want him to be well and happy. He didn't look very happy when I sent him off. I'm at loose ends. How are you?

B


************************

B,

Sorry again, Brian. She's wrong of course, and she won't be able to make it stick. He has his own mind, his own needs. He'll be back. Be patient. So glad he's improving. I'm fine. I was just named Chief Operating Officer of the holding company. They say that puts me in line to succeed the CEO when he retires, but that's not for a few years, at least. Still, this is a big job and I feel very privileged to have been tapped. The gay issue was fully vetted with our Board of Directors. Some had problems with it, but they were voted down. This is Europe after all, not quite so provincial as the States on these matters. How goes it with Ryder?

A


************************

A,

CONGRATULATIONS! That's a very big promotion and you're still (relatively) young! LOL! As for Ryder, we're hearing rumbles that he's trying to sell the agency. Great. Now I can start looking for a job on top of everything else. Anyway, I'm proud of you.

B


Two weeks later


A,

You were right. She couldn't handle him and asked me to help. He has a lot of misdirected rage, anger that is really because of what happened to him but his amnesia doesn't let him make the link. It's a type of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, they say. A shrink friend of mine thought it might be good to recreate the scene for him, to help him remember. So, we tried to remake the dance, played the same music. I was hopeful it might rekindle those feelings we shared that night before it went to hell. But he was very weird about it. He said the music was old and corny, and that he was surprised that we kissed in front of everyone. I felt about two inches tall by the time that little experiment ended. But wait! There's more! I took him to the garage where he got bashed. I lost it. I cried. I never cry. But I cried. Okay, I cried the night he got bashed, too. I admit it. Anyway, he comforted me and said it wasn't my fault. Right. He still remembers nothing. Maybe that's for the best. He hasn't let me touch him before now, but when we got home, he touched me. We did it. It was very... meaningful... for me. You were so right. I don't know how to handle these feelings. I'm lost.

B


**********************

B,

This is one rabbit hole you'll have to fall down all on your own, Brian. I hope it's magical for you. I had a friend who fought in the Gulf War and suffered from PTSD. It's hard to treat, but he can be helped. I'm sure you'll be a wonderful support for him. I'm dating someone in the Royal Ballet Company. He's got a magnificent body, but he knows it only too well. We'll see how it goes.

A


**********************

A,

Meant to tell you, happy birthday. Good luck with your dying swan.

B


**********************

B,

Thanks, but the boy swans aren't the famous dying swans, the boy swans simply get shot. The girl swans get to die very prettily onstage. I feel positively ancient now that I'm thirty-six. Hullo! I am positively ancient. Bugger.

A


**********************

A,

We've known each other a year now. Seems like ten. LOL! Sorry. You've replaced Marlon in my life, I think. Don't ask, I can't explain. This ability to speak with someone I respect behind the anonymity of the computer screen has helped me in so many ways this year. Thanks for that. Happy anniversary.

B


**********************

B,

Happy anniversary to you, too, beautiful Brian. This correspondence has been equally important for me. And since we actually have met, we can't even lie to each other about how big our dicks are. Not that we need to lie. Or to discuss our dicks at all, for that matter. I've had a couple drinks. Pardon the incoherence.

A


**********************

A,

Go to bed, Adrian. You sound tired.

B


**********************

B,

Perhaps you're right. Goodnight, Brian. Kiss.


Continue to Chapter 3

Disclaimer: The television show Queer As Folk and its characters are the property of Showtime and CowLip Productions. No money is being made. Stories and discussion are intended purely for the entertainment of fans of Queer as Folk, the Brian and Justin characters, and Randall's writings.
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Beginning
July 25, 2004