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spaggelOMG, FIC.
I blame![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kick_it_harder. This was sitting in the deep darkness of my computer. Then I showed it to her and she begged for me to post it. So I am.
Title: Untitled
Fandom: QAF
Pairing: Kinda of B/J
Rated: PG-13
Notes: Un-beta'd (blamekick_it_harder) Angst. Lots of it. Not happy :(( No death. Feedback is welcome.
*click* *click* *click*
Brian sat typing a report that he wished would write itself.
"Time for sleep."
"Hm. Yes, I know." He didn’t look away from the computer screen though; it was easier to just get it done now.
"It's time to go to sleep." The voice more insistent. Unsteady and unsure.
"Yes, I know. Why don't you get ready?" He blinks a few times, not realizing how dry his eyes were. Not feeling the headache till he turned from the screen.
Whining and shuffling. "But we have to go to sleep." A little panic mixed with worry in the voice.
Sigh. "Yes, I'm coming. Hold on a moment." A quick click and it was saved, he let the screen saver takeover, and the report could wait till he could get back. Pushing his body out of the chair, Brian followed the body with the shuffling feet through the door.
-----
"Good. You were being late. You shouldn't be late." Eyes, face and voice saying, 'Don't break the rules. It's bad.' Head shaking and hair flying around.
/It needs to be shorted again./
‘Let his hair grow. The scissors scare him and the long hair won’t hurt.’
/Only take forever to brush-out though/
Brian gently rubbed the thick and wild hair. It was softer then before, amazing what a switch to baby-shampoo will do.
'Can't sting his eyes. It should smell nice.'
"Thank you. Your right. I shouldn't be late." He gave the worried face looking up at him a grin.
‘He needs positive reinforcement; try not to upset him too much.’
/When is he upset, regardless of what I do?/
Eyes widened with happiness. Everything was fixed now. Back to the way it was supposed to be. He had fixed it, and thoughts bubbled, 'I did right! Brian is proud of me!' and he was proud of himself.
"What do you say we go to the park tomorrow? It’s cold, but you can wear that new coat that Deb got you.” A treat for remembering something, anything. Sometimes it was hard, other times easy. But always, always, deserving of a treat for it.
'Give him rewards for doing things right. For finishing something and not quitting.’
/I’ll give him one for just trying./
"Thank you, Brian!" He had arms wound tight around his neck. Holding, happy and loving. Loving as a child does.
"Your welcome. Now, go get your PJ’s on and get into bed. I’ll finish the story from last night.”
'Give him happiness. Love him. It's all that he wants.'
Brian watched as the thin body raced into the bathroom to change. He was in a rush, but he made sure clothes where put away. It was a rule, you *had* to follow the rules. Soon the body was under the blankets, a small mound that giggled, as wide eyes blinked and the squirming mass waited for the story.
Brian pulled a book from a low bookcase, one that was hard to trip over and even harder to knock over, with its heavy frame and rounded edges. A gift from Lindz. She knew what to buy, one that was made for a child. One that wouldn't hurt and contained books that did the same. It contained only innocent stories, no hurting, no sadness, and no violins. All from Jennifer.
"Move over, I can’t read to you standing up.” Golden hair moving everywhere as he nodded his head rapidly and scooted over.
"Thanks. Now, once upon a time there was this little boy who wanted to be king.”
-----
He was asleep, dreams swirled in his head. Dreams of animals and colors, things children dream of. Or, at least, that was what Brian assumed.
Double checking to make sure the door was open, should a nightmare occur and his help was needed. His bed a place for a warm body to crawl into. A place of safety.
He headed to bed, the report could wait till morning. He laid down, closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come. It took forever these days, he still wasn’t used to the early nights. The bed had become a place to think and give into hopes.
Brian hopes for himself that one day, he wouldn't have to continue with this day after day.
Brian hopes that 'he' would be able to live on his own.
Brian hopes for himself that he will be able to handle this.
Brian hopes that 'he' would return to normal, for the wounds to heal. For them never to have been inflicted in the first place.
And most of all Brian hopes that he would stop wishing for things he knows won’t happen and just live with it. Because he knows, over everything else, that Justin will never heal. He will never return to normal.
So he just try’s to think about the next ad, the next report and dropping Justin off at Debs so he can get sometime to himself. To hit the backrooms or the baths for a minute or two because that’s all he has now.
He thinks about the power of an angry, jealous, boy with a violin and a baseball bat and how much damage it can do to a fragile skull. And that maybe it should have hit harder so they could morn the death of a man and not left the ruined brain of a child stuck in damaged skull.
I blame
kick_it_harder. This was sitting in the deep darkness of my computer. Then I showed it to her and she begged for me to post it. So I am.Title: Untitled
Fandom: QAF
Pairing: Kinda of B/J
Rated: PG-13
Notes: Un-beta'd (blame
kick_it_harder) Angst. Lots of it. Not happy :(( No death. Feedback is welcome.*click* *click* *click*
Brian sat typing a report that he wished would write itself.
"Time for sleep."
"Hm. Yes, I know." He didn’t look away from the computer screen though; it was easier to just get it done now.
"It's time to go to sleep." The voice more insistent. Unsteady and unsure.
"Yes, I know. Why don't you get ready?" He blinks a few times, not realizing how dry his eyes were. Not feeling the headache till he turned from the screen.
Whining and shuffling. "But we have to go to sleep." A little panic mixed with worry in the voice.
Sigh. "Yes, I'm coming. Hold on a moment." A quick click and it was saved, he let the screen saver takeover, and the report could wait till he could get back. Pushing his body out of the chair, Brian followed the body with the shuffling feet through the door.
-----
"Good. You were being late. You shouldn't be late." Eyes, face and voice saying, 'Don't break the rules. It's bad.' Head shaking and hair flying around.
/It needs to be shorted again./
‘Let his hair grow. The scissors scare him and the long hair won’t hurt.’
/Only take forever to brush-out though/
Brian gently rubbed the thick and wild hair. It was softer then before, amazing what a switch to baby-shampoo will do.
'Can't sting his eyes. It should smell nice.'
"Thank you. Your right. I shouldn't be late." He gave the worried face looking up at him a grin.
‘He needs positive reinforcement; try not to upset him too much.’
/When is he upset, regardless of what I do?/
Eyes widened with happiness. Everything was fixed now. Back to the way it was supposed to be. He had fixed it, and thoughts bubbled, 'I did right! Brian is proud of me!' and he was proud of himself.
"What do you say we go to the park tomorrow? It’s cold, but you can wear that new coat that Deb got you.” A treat for remembering something, anything. Sometimes it was hard, other times easy. But always, always, deserving of a treat for it.
'Give him rewards for doing things right. For finishing something and not quitting.’
/I’ll give him one for just trying./
"Thank you, Brian!" He had arms wound tight around his neck. Holding, happy and loving. Loving as a child does.
"Your welcome. Now, go get your PJ’s on and get into bed. I’ll finish the story from last night.”
'Give him happiness. Love him. It's all that he wants.'
Brian watched as the thin body raced into the bathroom to change. He was in a rush, but he made sure clothes where put away. It was a rule, you *had* to follow the rules. Soon the body was under the blankets, a small mound that giggled, as wide eyes blinked and the squirming mass waited for the story.
Brian pulled a book from a low bookcase, one that was hard to trip over and even harder to knock over, with its heavy frame and rounded edges. A gift from Lindz. She knew what to buy, one that was made for a child. One that wouldn't hurt and contained books that did the same. It contained only innocent stories, no hurting, no sadness, and no violins. All from Jennifer.
"Move over, I can’t read to you standing up.” Golden hair moving everywhere as he nodded his head rapidly and scooted over.
"Thanks. Now, once upon a time there was this little boy who wanted to be king.”
-----
He was asleep, dreams swirled in his head. Dreams of animals and colors, things children dream of. Or, at least, that was what Brian assumed.
Double checking to make sure the door was open, should a nightmare occur and his help was needed. His bed a place for a warm body to crawl into. A place of safety.
He headed to bed, the report could wait till morning. He laid down, closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come. It took forever these days, he still wasn’t used to the early nights. The bed had become a place to think and give into hopes.
Brian hopes for himself that one day, he wouldn't have to continue with this day after day.
Brian hopes that 'he' would be able to live on his own.
Brian hopes for himself that he will be able to handle this.
Brian hopes that 'he' would return to normal, for the wounds to heal. For them never to have been inflicted in the first place.
And most of all Brian hopes that he would stop wishing for things he knows won’t happen and just live with it. Because he knows, over everything else, that Justin will never heal. He will never return to normal.
So he just try’s to think about the next ad, the next report and dropping Justin off at Debs so he can get sometime to himself. To hit the backrooms or the baths for a minute or two because that’s all he has now.
He thinks about the power of an angry, jealous, boy with a violin and a baseball bat and how much damage it can do to a fragile skull. And that maybe it should have hit harder so they could morn the death of a man and not left the ruined brain of a child stuck in damaged skull.
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no subject
Date: 2004-12-15 08:07 am (UTC)It's supposed to be ethan, that who i though of while writting since I hadn't seen S4 when I wrote it. This was written pre-S4, but you can make it who you wish :)