rising from the ground

Title: Miles From Where You Are
Genre: Brian/Justin
Series: Part One of Four (Plus Epilogue)
Timeline: post 513
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the "World's Apart challenge" on neverenough_bj. Lyrics from "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol.
Beta: wouldbedorothy and reilael



Miles From Where You Are


I've lived a thousand lifetimes to find a soul like yours. A soul so pure, a soul so brave. An angel that takes my breath away. -- Brandon Lee in The Crow



Lifetimes in one heartbeat.

Lifetimes in one breath.

Lifetimes in one second.

Justin smirked as the words of his favorite English teacher came to mind. Why he was thinking of them, he wasn’t sure. Maybe they were appropriate.

Everything passed so quickly. Years and lives and happiness. Here, then gone.

“You’re getting fucking maudlin in your old age, Taylor,” he muttered into his drink, finishing off the last of the warm liquid, grimacing slightly at the wildfire that spread down his chest, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He’d never mastered the art of whiskey. That had always been…

He turned when the sounds of footsteps approached and raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend -- one could say ex-boyfriend now. “Didn’t think you meant tonight, Matthew.”

Matthew made some derisive kind of sound, hauling his bulging knapsack over his shoulder. He reached inside his pocket and Justin watched as he pulled out a set of keys, placing them on the wooden surface of the coffee table. “I don’t think we should waste any more time. Do you?”

When Justin made no reply, he shook his head, dragging one bag as he attempted to carry the other one. He turned as he reached the door, setting both bags down on the floor. “You want to know the fucked up part, Justin?”

“Not really, but it seems you need to tell me, so…” Justin waved a hand in Matthew’s direction.

Matthew let out a mirthless whisper of laughter. “I blamed him for years. Your inability to -- well, that doesn’t matter, does it? When we first met - you were so full -- of life. You understood what you wanted. You strived for art but you never lost to the corruption out there. Your feet were firmly planted on the ground.” Matthew shook his head as he glanced out of the floor to ceiling windows. “I thought back then -- that he was the problem. That he pushed you.”
Justin clenched his jaw tight. He refused to acknowledge what Matthew was talking about. He never shared that with anyone.

“Thing is -- I was wrong. Brian wasn’t the problem. He was the solution. He kept you together. Made you strive to be better without selling out. Gave you a goal.” Matthew sighed, his eyes meeting Justin’s. “And when that was gone-- you let something else become your focus. And you lost what was important.”

He walked away quickly and Justin almost said his name. Almost made him stop.

But, in the end, he didn’t. There was no point. He didn’t care enough to make that effort, and that was all that mattered.

Matthew took his bags, opening the door, and throwing Justin one last look, he smiled kindly. Something akin to pity in his eyes.

Justin suppressed the urge to punch him.

“If you fell so far from who you are -- I can’t imagine what happened to him.”

And he was gone.

Leaving Justin with thoughts he didn’t want.


#######


“So, Matt left then?”

Justin ignored David’s question. “I think the Marcel piece needs to go on the far right wall. Better light.”

“You don’t want to talk about it.”

“When have I ever wanted to talk about it, David?”

“Never.”

Justin said nothing.

“Fine. Well, those men from Art World, Inc. are waiting in your office.” David sneered as he said the name.

Justin eyed him. “Watch it, David.”

David shrugged. “Look, Boss. I don’t judge because it’s not my fucking place, but they’re a group of old farts who wouldn’t know good art if it bit them in their asses.”

Justin stared at him, his voice a hush. “Maybe so. But they help fund our exhibits, so show them a little more respect.”

“Whatever.”

Justin watched David walk away, muttering a litany of curses that Justin was sure he didn’t want to hear. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his face into a benevolent smile and entered the conference room. The row of sour faces made him pause slightly.

He hated this.

“Gentlemen, how are we this morning?”


######


“So they want you to sell out? Paint pretty landscapes and portraits? Fuck that, Justin. You said these paintings are brilliant.”

“Disturbing and thought-provoking apparently don’t sell, Daphne.”

“Bullshit. I love your stuff. It’s the best. And you haven’t painted in so long. Busy with the gallery and other artists. I remember how your work feels, Jus. Especially the ones you painted about…”

She silenced the word and Justin heard her deep intake of breath.

“Don’t.”

“But, Justin…”

“No.”

Daphne sighed into the phone. “I still don’t know what the fuck happened.”

Justin changed the subject.


######


We'll do it all
Everything on our own
We don't need anything or anyone



If Justin was honest, he had no clue what happened either. One day, they had been fine… and the next it was over.

“That’s it? You’re not going to let me have a say.”

“Nothing to say, Sunshine.”

“I see.”

“I’m holding you back.”

“Brian…”

“Take the fucking commission to Paris, Justin.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Bullshit.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Yes, it is. This is when you decided that your art was less important than our -- getting married.”

“As I recall, marriage was your reaction to a bomb, Brian. You never really wanted it.”

“…..”

“Brian?”

“Take it.”

And that had been the end.

He’d gotten on a plane for Paris.

Brian hadn’t called.

And Justin had known it was over.

“Nothing like distance and absence to make the heart grow fonder. And make the cock grow harder.”

Justin smirked.

That was one of Brian’s.

How had they gotten to this point? Where they never saw one another, but let phone calls be their only connection? Justin didn’t know. At least they were -- friends. They still talked.

They never spoke about them. They never addressed what they once were. It was like it had never happened.

And after a while Justin had become convinced that it hadn’t.

That none of that -- the proposal, the marriage, their relationship -- had mattered. It had been a growing experience.

It had been a lifetime.


######


These moments were rare for him. Stillness around him was rare. Justin brushed swiftly across the dark canvas. It was forming… into what, he wasn’t sure yet. But whatever it was to be -- it was forming.

He breathed in the smell of paint and turpentine. This is where he felt at home. With a brush in hand and a world of blankness that needed to be filled. Brought to life.

These were the only moments he felt like Justin.

He jumped at the knock that reverberated through the silence of his apartment. His hand accidentally jerked and a line appeared on the canvas that wasn’t meant to be there. Justin bit back a scream of frustration. That wasn’t supposed to be there.

He’d forgotten about the food he’d ordered.

“Fuck.”

The knock came again. Louder.

Justin scowled, grabbing his wallet from the side table as he reached the door. He pulled it open, reminding himself that the delivery guy wasn’t at fault. Just doing his job. He froze as he was met with hazel eyes.

“Hello, Sunshine.”

Part Two

The rest of the parts will be added over the next few days. :)