Shameless

Shameless

Chapter Eight

"Brian?" Stefan blinked as he opened his apartment door and found Brian standing in the hallway, a bottle of wine held in one hand, and a bright red lollipop clutched between equally bright red lips. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Brian pulled the sucker from his mouth, making a soft popping noise as his lips released it.

"We haven't seen much of each other these last few weeks. I thought I'd drop by so we could talk, have a few drinks, speculate about what Steve is like in bed -- you know, the usual. Unless you've got something else planned?"

"No, nothing at all. Come in." Smiling, Stefan bowed as he gestured inward. "My humble abode awaits you."

"Thanks." Brian sauntered in and sank down on the couch.

After indicating that he'd be right back, Stefan went into the kitchen, where he retrieved two glasses and another bottle of wine. Brian was right. Lately, they had been ignoring each other. It was too easy to get wrapped up in their new lovers, in the adrenalin rush of fresh feelings, and forget the familiar comforts of an old friendship. Or maybe... Stefan hesitated. Maybe there was a different reason why they'd kept their distance these last few weeks. Maybe they'd been afraid that the strength of their history, the unresolved sum of a hundred whispers and tentative caresses, might overwhelm the fragile beginnings of what they were each trying to build. Stefan stared down at the glasses in his hand. For an instant, he had the overwhelming urge to invent some wild excuse to make Brian leave. Then he shook his head. That was ridiculous. He and Brian worked together -- they couldn't avoid each other forever.

Stefan returned to the living room and placed a glass in Brian's hand, before settling into a nearby chair. "So. How's it going with Brett?"

Something flickered in Brian's eyes. Instead of replying, he put the lollipop back in his mouth, uncorked the wine he'd brought, and filled his glass. Then he offered the bottle to Stefan.

"That well?" Stefan pressed, taking the wine.

Brian shook his head. "What are we afraid of, Stef? What kind of demons whisper in our ears when we sleep? Why do we live this absurd life -- forsaking home, friends, and family?"

Raising his glass, Stefan took a long, slow drink of wine while he considered his answer. "Because we love the music? Because it's all we know?"

"Or maybe we're just fucking crazy." Brian threw back his drink and poured another one. "Brett's a good man. He really is. Sometimes, when we're alone together, he opens up and it's like breaking apart a geode to find all the fragile, glittering crystals hidden within a prison of rock. Then he snaps shut again. And there's nothing left but walls."

"I wonder which came first?" Stefan speculated. "I wonder if the stone slowly crusted over the surface of the crystals? Or if the rock's protection was what allowed them to grow inside it?"

Brian sighed. "I don't know. I don't fucking know. I just know that he seems so alone, and when I think about it, it nearly kills me." Again, he drained his glass. "But I didn't come over here to depress the hell out of you. How are things with Richard?"

Warmth flowed through Stefan at the mention of his lover's name. "Good. Really good."

"You know that he wants to quit Suede? In order to be with you?"

Stefan nodded as he refilled his glass. "I know. I tried to talk him out of it, to tell him that he didn't have to do that for me, but he wouldn't listen. He's pretty stubborn."

"Ah, the conviction of youth. When right and wrong are such simple paths. Before everything turns into a maze." Brian dipped his lollipop into the wine, then raised it, licking the sour liquid from its sugary surface. "I wish I could remember what that felt like. I wish..."

For a moment, Stefan didn't reply, hypnotized by the flicker of Brian's tongue against the bright red candy. Unable to keep himself from envisioning that tongue slipping over more intimate regions. Then, with a great force of willpower, he pushed the picture out of his head. "You're saying that I'm too old for Richard? Too dark? That I'll corrupt him?"

Brian shook his head. "The kid's not Peter Pan. Eventually, everyone grows up. Makes compromises. Betrays the people they swore they'd never hurt."

Disturbed by Brian's words, Stefan leaned forward and laid his hand over Brian's. "Brian. I don't like to hear you talking this way. Like you think you're something evil. If Brett makes you feel this way about yourself, then maybe...maybe you shouldn't see him anymore."

At which point, Brian shocked Stefan by tossing his head back and laughing. Laughing like boulders crashing down a mountainside, burying him beneath them. "Oh, believe me, Stef. That's been taken care of." Brian's hand jerked beneath Stefan's, attempting to reach for the wine bottle. But Stefan locked his fingers around Brian's wrist.

"No."

"Stef--"

"No. Not when you're just using it to drown your pain. Not when you should be talking to someone instead."

Brian's eyes met his, sad and imploring. "Then drink it for me. Please?"

Reluctantly, Stefan agreed. "Alright. If it will make you feel better."

"Thank you." Brian raised an imaginary glass. "To love."

"Love and friendship," Stefan echoed, drinking.

Two bottles of wine later, the room had begun to waver, shimmying against Stefan's senses like ripples in a pond. But his drinking did seem to be having a vicarious good effect on Brian. All outward signs of Brian's depression had vanished, and instead of moping, he lay sprawled on the sofa, laughing easily at Stefan's small jokes. Stefan was just about to suggest that they go out, maybe to a nearby club, when Brian suddenly leaned forward, resting one hand on Stefan's knee as he dunked his lollipop in the remains of Stefan's drink. "You really should try it," he invited, extending the candy toward Stefan. "It's good."

Something in the back of Stefan's mind screamed a warning. But his thoughts were broken and scattered, like the ruins of some once-great city, and the message got lost before it could do any good. Instead of backing off, he bowed his head, closing his lips around the head of the lollipop -- tasting the cherry flavoring, tasting the wine, tasting Brian. Then he felt Brian's fingers trailing down the side of his face, caressing him while he sucked.

Gently, Brian pulled the lollipop from Stefan's mouth, and tucked it into one of the empty wine bottles, like a flower in a vase. Then he slipped forward, settling himself on Stefan's lap.

Reflexively, Stefan wrapped his arms around Brian's small body, no more able to halt the action than he was capable of ordering his heart to stop beating. Even in the depths of his alcoholic haze, he remembered Richard. Remembered how much he loved him. But some things were deeper, and older, and stronger than love, and the way he felt about Brian -- that was one of those things. So, even though part of him shrieked, and tore out its hair, and begged him not to do this, most of him leaned forward, pressing his lips to Brian's. Where he tasted sugar. Sweet, sweet memories of sugar. Oh, Richard. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...

Brian shifted positions, insinuating his hand between Stefan's legs. Rubbing the fabric of Stefan's jeans, tracing the bulge the betrayed Stefan's growing erection, while Stefan moaned his appreciation. Did moths have lovers? Did they regret the pain they caused others by hurling themselves into the fire? Or did they simply surrender themselves to the destiny they'd been shaped for? In his heart, Stefan knew that he was a moth, and Brian was the fire he'd been created to die in. No matter who else he loved, no matter where he went, Brian was the thing that would always call him back. To save him. And to destroy him.

He wasn't aware of the tears until Brian suddenly pulled back, looking like someone had hit him. Then, and only then, did Stefan reach up and feel the wetness on his own cheeks. "Stef?" Brian whispered, sounding small and frightened. "Did I hurt you?"

"Yes," Stefan admitted. "But it's not your fault. It's just the way we're both made."

After that, he expected Brian to resume the seduction, but Brian scrambled backward, sliding off Stefan's lap so quickly he fell to the floor. "I'm sorry, Stef. I can't do this. I can't hurt you. But I can't hurt him, either. I don't know what to do!"

"Hurt him?" Stefan felt like he'd been jolted from a dream. "Hurt who?"

Brian managed to push himself to his feet. Tears trickled from his eyes, streaking his mascara, until the water ran down his skin like polluted rain. "I have so much. I have you and Steve. And he doesn't have anyone, not anyone at all. It'll kill him..."

And suddenly, Stefan understood. Brett. "Did he ask you to do this?"

Brian nodded, refusing to meet Stefan's eyes. "Yes."

"Because Richard--?"

"Yes."

"I see." Everything tumbled around in Stefan's head like glitter in a snow globe. "And you really think--?"

"If something happens to Suede, it will destroy Brett. I know it will."

"Which would break your heart?"

"Yes."

Stefan drew a deep breath, then stood and crossed over to Brian, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. He thought about Richard, lying in bed beside him. Trusting him. Loving him. Maybe loving him too much. After all, who was he that Richard should abandon his dreams just to be his boyfriend? Wasn't it selfish to allow him to do that? And wouldn't it always haunt them? In time, wouldn't Richard come to resent, and then hate, all the versions of 'what if?' Wouldn't he always wonder what could have happened if he'd chased his own dream, instead of sacrificing it for Stefan's? Wouldn't that poison even the deepest love?

Or maybe all of that was only a rationalization, fancy dressing for the much more basic fact that Stefan couldn't stand to see Brian in pain. But either way, he knew what he had to do. "When was he supposed to walk in on us?"

Brian's gaze went past him, to the clock on the far wall. "In about five minutes..."

"Then I guess we'd better get one with it." And he pulled Brian into a mechanical kiss.

Stefan's body went numb. He felt like he was standing outside of it, watching like a voyeur, as he and Brian acted out a strange imitation of passion. Lips met lips, shirts were fumbled with and pulled off. But still, Stefan didn't feel anything. His senses seemed to have frozen. Then he heard murmurs in the hallway outside his apartment.

"All I'm asking you to do," Brett's voice insisted, "is to let me talk to him."

"Fine." Richard sounded contrite. "But it won't do any good. You'll see. He supports me. He loves me."

Stefan pressed his face into the oblivion of Brian's deep black hair, desperately glad that his back was turned toward the door so he wouldn't have to watch what was about to happen. Brian's fingers found his, and laced around them, holding his hand tightly. And Stefan gripped back, trying to brace himself.

The door opened. At first, there was only a stunned silence. Then Richard spoke his name. "Stef? I don't--? How could you?!"

Tears fell and were lost in the depths of Brian's hair. But Stefan didn't answer. There was nothing he could say, even if he could have forced sound past the barbed wire that seemed to be wrapped around his throat, strangling him.

"Stef?" Richard repeated. Then his voice dissolved into a high, shrill, almost musical cry, like someone driving a stake through the heart of a bird. Ended only by the sound of his footsteps, turning and running back down the hall. Stefan's entire body ached to break free and chase after him, to explain things, to end his pain. But he knew this was for the best. So he forced himself to remain still while his soul died inside of him.