Queer as Folk Fan Fiction:
 Season Two Drabbles
by Severina

* * *

Timeframe: Late Season Two
Written January 2005 -- for Fandom Aid

When the contact high from your real life adventures wear off
You find, in the tiny moments that bomb
Your old files rain down from the sky
~

Justin is not sure how he got here, from the flush of excitement and satisfaction, of living with Brian, of just being with Brian, to here, here in this dingy apartment, in this second-hand bed, with this man. This decent, caring, romantic man. This man that he does not love.

He shifts to his side, blinks as he watches Ethan sleep. He knows that he has to leave soon.

Justin thinks that Ethan uses his music as a weapon. Beautiful but deadly. He is flayed open.

He presses his palms to his eyes, and wonders when deceit became second nature.

* * *

Timeframe: Post Season Two
Written January 2005 -- for Fandom Aid

There’s a thousand words that I could say to make you come home
Seems so long ago you walked away and left me alone
~Gone, Nsync

The door slides shut behind me. Sealing me in. Shutting them out.

I toss the mask toward the counter. Didn’t even know I was still carrying it. Shit. Stalk to the fridge. Beer. Yes. My fingers brush against a bottle of Bud. Fucking Ju... I push past it to get to the imported shit. None. Fuck. Fuck him.

Bourbon.

Pour. Toss it back. Savour the familiar burn.

Familiarity breeds contempt.

Except it doesn’t. Fuck no, it doesn’t.

I glance toward the phone. Pick it up. My fingers brush the keypad. I could call his cell. I could.

But I won’t.

* * *

Timeframe: Post Season Two
Written August 06, 2005 -- for Blogathon

I’m a wide open space
I’m standing all alone and staring into space
~Wide Open Space, Mansun

There is the persistent techno beat, and the flash of lights, and the warm, dank smell of sweat soaked bodies in motion. There is the sway of my hips, and the brush of someone’s groin against my cock. There is the murky haze of dry ice, and the rattle of ice cubes in designer drinks. There is the pungent smell of weed, and the harsh burn of the smoke in my lungs. There is the laughter of friends and strangers who don’t know a fucking thing.

There is only silence, and the look on Justin’s face as he walked away.

* * *

Timeframe: Late Season Two
Written August 06, 2005 -- for Blogathon

I wanna hold the hand inside you
I wanna take the breath that’s true
~Fade Into You, Mazzy Star

He almost tells him, standing in the warm spray of the shower, washing away the last vestiges of his guilt.

He wants to tell him, to come clean in more ways than one, to stop the hiding and the lies. He wants everything, and that’s the trouble. He wants what Brian can’t give but he still wants Brian, he’ll always wants Brian, so the words get stuck in his throat, and he feels guilty and ashamed, and he returns soft kisses and turns to the shower wall and closes his eyes and wishes he knew how to make everything right.

* * *

Feedback is always welcome
Severina

* * *

[Gapfillers] ~ [Drabbles] ~ ["Take Flight" Series] ~
[Standalones] ~ [Soundtrack Collection] ~ [On Impulse: Improv Fiction] ~ [Home]