Warning!!!! MAJOR Character Death
Author Notes: Big thanks to Kayssecee, Teri & Zappa for fabulous feedback and beta-work! And a special thanks to the B/M Yahoo Group, for the inspiration to write!
Disclaimer: Don't own these boys, though I wish I did. They'd have the perfect happy ending if I did. Not making a dime writing this.
~Letter To Brian~~
***
A bright, hot sun hung in the sky.
Another beautiful late spring day in the Pitts.
"Sunny and 75!" the morning show meteorologist said with a wide smile.
Another day full of hope, even as hearts where breaking.
There weren't many smiles that morning in the Novotny house. It was a time for farewells, and nobody really knew what to say. Or how to say it.
Michael Charles Novotny. Gone. Succumbed to a disease for which treatments are plenty, which for him, simply ran out.
Debbie took his passing well. More than anything, she had hated seeing him in pain.
The last few days of his life, a morphine drip or patch kept him pretty well sedated. But those last moments were hell. In one of his rare moments of consciousness, Michael told his Mom that he didn't want anymore drip. He didn't want the patch affixed to his arm. He wanted to be able to see the faces of those he loved, because he knew it would probably be his last chance.
Debbie agreed. She knew it hurt him to even breathe, but as the drugs wore off in those final days, a smile became ever present on his face.
Brian felt like he was watching some terrible television melo-drama. One where the players over-acted, and the plot's became unbearable to fathom.
How could this be happening? How could he be standing here, while his best friend, the one who mattered, the one who....how could he just stand here?
Sitting on the couch, in the room where memories flooded the surroundings...Brian didn't speak. He ran out of words. His words where all used up in the last few days of Michael's existence.
He spoke them freely and without shame on that final night. Damn anyone who heard.
It didn't matter. All that mattered was Michael spent those moments, those last moments, the moment when Michael's breath escaped him for a final time, with Brian.
Now, 2 days later, it is time to let go.
Even if the previous days have been a blur of hugs and tears and laughter, while people gathered at the funeral home, there was no solace for Brian.
Stepping into the limo, sitting next to a warm and comforting Vic, Brian's mind began to wander. Looking out the window, seeing the sun, Brian knew exactly the way Michael Charles Novotny would have spent this beautiful spring day.
Breakfast with the boys at the diner, unloading a new shipment of X-Men comics at the store, shooting a game of pool at Woody's. Laughing an infectious laugh. A sound that was told Brian life was beautiful and right and good.
Now, there is only the good-bye's left.
The brief ceremony had special words from Lindsay, Ted, Emmett and Vic. Brian knew Debbie wanted to say something, to say something special to Michael, but words escaped her. Tears and a heart breaking where the only sounds to come from a women who once had something to say about everything. Not today.
Brian asked Deb earlier that morning if it was ok he didn't speak at the graveside vigil. He knew he wouldn't be able to.
"There aren't enough words in the English language for me to explain how I feel."
Debbie understood, and answered him with a soft touch on Brian's cheek.
As the final words where spoke, everyone in attendance took turns removing a red rose from atop the mohagany casket.
As people made their way back to their cars, Brian stood at his grave just staring at the box that contained the one person who mattered.
With a gentle stroke on his back, Debbie reached around and handed Brian an envelope.
"He wanted me to give you this after he was gone. I was so tempted to read it. But I think I already know what it says."
Touching his tear-stained cheek, "Brian, I love you like my own son. I am always here. Know that. Please."
A quick kiss and Deb joined Vic and Danny at the car.
Staring into the sky, Brain sat down at the foot of the still exposed casket, opening the letter and breathing deep before reading.
"Brian,
There are so many things I couldn't say to you. Things I couldn't tell you. Maybe I was being selfish for hiding them, but I couldn't risk it. The last few months, I have needed you more than ever. I was afraid to say anything; for fear you would get scared and walk away. I need you now. (or should I say needed, since you will be reading this after I am gone).
When the doctor told me Hodgkin's, I nearly came out of my skin. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I was watching a movie. I was an observer...not a participant. It didn't sink in until I went back a week later to start treatment. Then, I was scared. Not of the cancer...but of hurting Mom or Vic or Ted or Em or you. I didn't want you to worry, because the Doc told me that we would be aggressive with treatment. He said there was no reason not to be optimistic.
So I kept my mouth shut. Until, of course, the first round of Chemo. Mom said I looked like death when I walked in the door of her house.
She told me to sit down and eat....I ran upstairs and threw up.
I told her.
Had to. How else could I explain the vomiting, the nausea. How could I keep lying to Uncle Vic about why he had to open the store for me.
She freaked. She came to my room and laid down with me in bed for seven straight hours. She never left my side, hugging me, rubbing my back. She cried and cried. I cried too, for her though, not me. She told me everything was gonna be ok.
I heard that and instantly felt differently.
I told her I didn't want to tell you and the guys. Not yet. You had a full plate at work; I didn't want you to worry. Ted's dad just died a week previous. Emmett was having relationship troubles.
How could I lay this on all of you when the Doc said that everything would be fine?
Avoiding all of you was terrible. Mom went to my apartment and told Emmett she needed to get a few of my things, telling him I had strep throat and she was nursing me back to health. She carried my secret for two weeks, until you showed up.
Remember...I was lying in bed after an awful day of therapy...and I was still pretending to have strep.
You looked at me..."Holy shit, Mikey...you look like death."
"I am on antibiotics...I am contagious, you better leave."
You wouldn't.
"Michael...if this is strep throat...why do you have a bucket next to your bed? I didn't know strep throat caused vomiting."
I threw up the moment you said that.
I couldn't lie, not to you.
When I told you Hodgkin's, I lost it. I cried and cried. And I wanted you to leave.
You wouldn't. You laid with me and didn't say a word.
Mom told me that when you walked downstairs, you told her you wanted me to come stay at your loft. You would take time off work...I would get the best care in the world.
Mom wouldn't have it.
"Brian, he's my baby, my life...I have to take care of him."
You didn't argue with her.
"Ok, but you are taking the time off at the diner. I will cover any expenses here. And I am staying on the couch."
You didn't spend a night during my chemo on the couch, always sleeping with me at night. Holding me, rubbing my back and telling me stories about us, about the past. Taking me back...leaving this disease behind until I could fall asleep. I never felt better, even though I felt like shit.
~~
Brian set the letter down on the grass. Taking a moment to catch his breath and take in his surroundings. Looking at the wood box, Brian smiled...."Damn you Novotny", slipping from his lips.
Picking up the letter again, Brian took in another breath and continued.
~~
"I didn't notice it at first. I was in the shower, washing up for the first time in two days. Three rounds of therapy down, three to go.
I turned off the faucet and saw it.
Hair. Tons of it, congregating at the drain.
Dr. Mulonas said this would happen. Said the therapy would cause it to all fall out. I noticed it wasn't only the hair from my head, but my crotch too. My eyebrows were thinner than ever.
I stared at myself in the mirror for what seemed like an eternity. Examining the changes in my body. My arms looked weak. My stomach slightly sunken in.
Damn...it has only been two weeks and already, I looked so bad.
I did look like death.
You found me crying on the cold tile, naked, vulnerable.
Lifting me up, you placed me on my bed and covered me.
You spent another night lying with me. Holding me. Kissing what was left of my hair and stroking my back.
It never really grew back. I was so pissed. I thought it would be back in no time, but when the Doc told me that the cancer had spread, I knew it never would. And I knew, after three months, that this was it. Just a matter of time. It was very aggressive. Spreading through my lymph nodes to my pancreas.
"Michael, I don't know what else we can do. We can try more chemo and radiation."
I didn't want that. I figured, this is it. End of the line. You always said I was strong. But I wasn't strong enough for this. I couldn't be. I knew there was little hope. I had to make my last months as wonderful as possible.
I am sorry I didn't tell you I decided to stop treatment. I am sorry because I know that I hurt you by doing so.
Brian, I am through fighting. I am tired. But I am not scared. Not anymore.
Having this. Experiencing this disease, has me reflecting. Maybe I'm being melancholy, maybe pathetic (as you would say). So many memories coming to me in overwhelming waves. Each moment with you, more important than the last.
I remember everything. Everything about us, like it was yesterday. I remember the moment you walked into Mrs. Garrison's first period class. I knew I was in trouble.
You had on a blue button down, and dark jeans. Your hair was hanging messily in your eyes. You looked about 5 years older than everyone else did in the room. Except for Mrs. Garrison, of course!
Mrs. G introduced you as Brian Kinney and pointed to the open seat next to me in the last row.
The seats next to me were usually empty.
I had some friends, other boys I would talk to or spend time with outside of school...but I wasn't popular.
Often the brunt of jokes.
The 9th grade guys called me "fag" all the time. I got laughed at for my comic book tee's and second hand jeans. I wasn't good at sports, usually picked last. I walked alone a lot, ate lunch alone a lot...sometimes I would cry about it. But really, what did I care?
I had Captain Astro and Galaxy Lad. They were my friends. They talked to me through the pages of my comics. Telling me what mattered wasn't what I wore, or how tall I was, or how big my muscles were...what mattered was how I loved, how I cared, how I talked and how I listened.
I would run home from school sometimes. Mom was working, and I would be alone for hours...up in my room, behind the locked door, reading my comics. Escaping.
Thinking I was with Captain Astro...helping to spread happiness while ridding the world of hate. Sharing secrets with Galaxy Lad.
Oh, did I hate during those times.
I hated my Mom sometimes, for never letting me be. For constantly asking me questions I didn't want to answer.
I hated all those self-righteous fucks at Cumberland Middle School.
I hated my father for going to Vietnam and dying.
I hated myself for hating anyone.
Mom said that it was ok to like other boys. I told her to fuck off.
I didn't want to hear it.
"I don't like boys. Well, I do. I want boys to hang out with, but I don't LIKE boys."
She would just hug me and tell me to be proud of who I was, always.
I wasn't. I wasn't.
I hated feeling it. I hated looking at someone...a guy...and wanting to touch him. I don't touch guys.
Well...that's not true, because I would hug Uncle Vic whenever he was in town.
I was scared people would laugh at me. Imagine me, the short, skinny geek in his "Batman T" hugging another boy.
I didn't know why they called me "fag." What did I do?
I didn't walk weird...or like Uncle Vic calls it, "The Fairy Dance."
I didn't talk funny.
Uncle Vic would tell me that REAL men are gay men, because REAL men aren't afraid of who they are, they don't hide, they don't run away, they accept it and say FUCK YOU to everyone who doesn't!
I wanted to say FUCK YOU to plenty. But I didn't.
Not until you walked in that September morning.
Damn, I remember it like it was yesterday.
You said "Hey"...I said "Hey". You smiled the same smile you give me to this day.
I fell. Right then, right there.
I was a fag. And I didn't care. I was ready for the big "fuck you."
~~
Brian began to laugh, setting the thick letter aside once again, remembering that day in Cumberland Middle School. And day that change both him and Michael. Forever.
Lighting a cigarette, Brian got comfortable on the soft grass that surrounded Michael's new home.
A cloud blocked the sun, casting a dark shadow on Brian and Michael's casket.
Tears that had waited, where now teasing their way out of the corners of Brian's eyes.
Thoughts flooding of those last days of Michael's life. Those last moments. Images he would never be able to erase.
Lying in the hospital bed, placed in front of the fire at Brian's loft, Michael spent his last hours surrounded by all the boys.
Jennifer Taylor came over with food, taking time to read a letter from Justin, who was busy in San Francisco, carrying on with a 4th edition of "Rage". Michael wanted him to continue with the comic, telling Justin that it was the one thing he was most proud of.
Carl Hovarth stopped over, offering a strong shoulder for Deb as she stepped away from Michael so he could be with Ted, Emmett and Brian. Vic was busy making pasta, singing show tunes and dancing around. Doing what he could to keep the mood as upbeat as possible. Vic knew Michael would want to laugh and smile. Michael wouldn't want tears and sobs.
Danny Devore came into town, and was able to share many tender moments with Michael. He came 3 days before Michael left. And he didn't leave the loft once, staying on a cot in the front room with Deb, Vic, Ted and Emmett.
Mel and Lindsay visited everyday, bringing Gus to see Uncle Mikey.
That Friday, Michael took a turn for the worse. The hospice nurse told Deb it was just a matter of time.
Michael's breathing became more labored, and he fell in and out of consciousness.
Brian remained relatively mute during those last days, talking only to Michael.
Seeing him, gaunt and pale, Brian took on a similar appearance. Not showering or shaving. Not eating.
While other's slept that last week, Brian stayed awake, holding Michael's hand. Whispering words of friendship. Telling stories of their various escapades, tricks, laughs, memories. More times than not, though, Brian just stared at him. A small smile on his lips, Brian wouldn't let Michael see him cry. He touched his face, kissed his hair, held his now fragile hands in his.
Inside, Brian was dying a slow death with him. He didn't want to see this, but he couldn't pull away.
**I want the last thing Michael sees to be me**
**I have to be strong. He has to know it's ok to let go**
**I want him to know that it's always been him.**
The last hour was beautiful. Everything Michael could have hoped.
Seeing him in the tall, steel encased bed had been enough for Brian. He knew Michael was leaving him, and he wanted to make sure he left in the one place that he should have been in long before.
Lowering the steel bar, Brian took hold of Michael's arm and placed it gently around his shoulder, bending his knees around his other arm. Cradling him in his arms, Brian took the 2 steps up to his bed and gently placed Michael in the center.
Michael's eyes were open, staring directly at Brian. Michael's voice had failed him, but the emotion was apparent. Brian crawled in next to him, pulling him into his arms and holding him like he had held Gus many times before.
Quietly walking into the room, Deb sat opposite Brian, taking hold of Michael's right hand, gently stroking it.
"You know how much your loved Michael Charles Novotny? You are loved more than the sun and the moon and the stars. You are everything good and true in my life. I am so happy to be your Mom. I am so lucky to have you for a son."
Tears fell free from Debbie's eyes, and Michael gently squeezed her hand in response.
Ted and Emmett arose from their troubled slumber to sit at the end of the bed, stroking Michael's legs. Vic joined Debbie, placing his arms around her for comfort. Danny stood at the side of the bed, smiling at a son he had just barely begun to get to know. Tears welling in his eyes for what could have been.
Michael's gaze never left Brian's. Eyes filled with love and loss and hope.
Brian whispered softly into Michael's hair. A private conversation that was shared amongst everyone present.
Still holding back tears as he spoke, Brian repeated himself.
"It's ok to let go, Michael. I'm here. It's ok, I'll always be here."
Heavy tears that were few and far between fell from the corners of Michael's dark eyes, as he concentrated on Brian's face.
Trying desperately to speak, Brian hushed him with a finger.
"No Michael, I know. You don't have to say it. I know. And I love you too. I love you more than anything in my life. I have always loved you. I think deep down, you always knew. It's ok...It's ok. I am so sorry I didn't tell you before. I mean really tell you. Show you. I should have shown you."
Michael's weak hand squeezed Brian.
No matter how hard Brian tried, the tears finally fell. Some landing softly on Michael's hallowed cheeks.
"I will never forget. I will never forget you, Michael. I'll remember every beautiful moment I had with you. I'll always celebrate you. Always love you...I...I could never replace you, Mic...."
Michael's eyes slowly closed, then opened again, before closing one last time.
Brian squeezed tight. Kissing his face, hand on his neck.
"I love you, Mikey, I love you, Michael...."
The last words spoken, were the last words Michael heard before his breathing ceased.
Brian shook his head, taking another drag of his cigarette and trying to wipe the images from his mind.
He picked up the thick letter and studied the slanted writing, the smiley's in the corner of each page.
**Mikey, you're pathetic.**
~~
"You scared the hell out of Mom.
She would yell at me at dinner, "Will you shut up about Brian Kinney!"
She didn't say it to me, until years later, but she hated seeing me hang out with you at first.
She said you seemed "possessed" at times, or was it "unfocused"?
Either way, she knew you had an experience that I lacked.
Mom wanted me to be her little boy, and you came along to make me a man.
You almost did.
This close. So close.
That too, I remember as if it were yesterday.
My room.
Patrick Swayze.
You.
Me.
Your hands.
Nobody had ever touched me like that before. Except for myself of course!
I was scared to death.
Then, it ended.
Nothing.
Nothing ever again.
Not like that.
The memory is what I hung onto for years.
It wasn't the memory of you touching me. You jacking me off.
It was the memory that you wanted me.
At one time, you wanted me.
I never wanted anyone so much.
Sure, I didn't have any experience. I didn't know what fucking was all about. Or how intense sucking could be.
But, it was you.
The person who didn't leave because I wasn't cool. The person who was cool enough for the entire student body, wanted to hang out with me. The person who would laugh at my jokes, and hug me tight, and talk with me about my Mom and tell me about their Dad, and treat me like an equal and not some silly kid. The one person who always managed to make me feel important, special, loved.
You wanted me once.
That meant so much.
Still does.
Thing is, I never stopped. Wanting you, needing you, loving you.
Once I started, once I fell for you, I couldn't escape it.
You were my every thought. My every dream, my every nightmare, my everything.
As I got a little older. It was the same.
You went away to school...and I would still think about you.
Our weekly conversations would keep me hanging for 7 days. I couldn't wait to hear your voice.
I would go to the store, and buy music tape's simply because, I knew at college, you were listening to the same ones.
I would play it in my room at night, and close my eyes...wishing, hoping, that you where listening to it at the same time. That we were connecting on some "sub-conscience" level.
Silly, huh?
When you came back to Pitts...you were different. More confident. Cocky.
You were always cocky, but this was a whole new level!
"Come on Mikey....time for Babylon!"
I think I went to Babylon 4-5 times while you were at school.
You made an instant b-line for the backroom on your first night home.
I stood outside the chain curtains, and watched from afar as this beautiful man went down on you.
I was envious. I wished I had your courage to walk back there and summon the hottest guy.
But, I was more envious of the man blowing you. I wanted to be him. I wanted to see it. Taste it. Touch it.
But, I knew I couldn't.
You didn't want me like that. I'm Mikey.
I am your safety net, while you are my bodyguard.
Things just snowballed. Everynight we were hitting the clubs.
Damn. To many drunken nights.
You would find some hot piece to take back to your place and fuck the shit out of.
I, well, sometimes I would get a blow or an occasional visitor, but not often.
I didn't care.
I loved the sex, sure, but it really meant nothing.
You said that was the best part...that sex meant nothing, so you could really enjoy it.
I knew you were lying. I didn't call you on it.
It's ok. Do what you need to do...it can't be like this forever, right?
But, it seemed like an eternity for me!
So many nights, siting in your car...waiting, honking the horn...trying to hurry you up. Trying to get you out of that alley.
Looking refreshed satisfied.
I didn't mind really, waiting for you.
You are my best friend; I had to make sure you made it home safe.
Sometimes you would be back there for an eternity.
I would worry..."something must be wrong!"
I never told you this, but on more than one occasion, after waiting for what seemed like an hour...I would walk over to the creaky fence that blocked the alley and look in.
Looking for you.
Part curiosity to see you in the moment of sexual excitement....part nervousness that something could be wrong.
At times it was an obsession, I'll admit it.
~~
Brian smiled once again.
**Even in death you have me smiling Novotny.**
Obsession? **Me too Mikey**
~~
I'll never forget the night Gus was born.
While your world was forever altered, first Gus then Justin....mine was too.
I loved Gus, and loathed Justin.
Damn that kid was like lice...nothing you could do to rid your self of him!
I knew you liked him. You liked that young, sweet, tight boy walking down Liberty Ave.
You liked that he was so "taken" with you.
That wasn't a shock.
Justin was me, fourteen years previous.
Justin was a persistent little shit.
He even insulted my Mom! At the diner...did I ever tell you that?
It was funny though, he didn't mean anything by calling her a "freak," she is!
I felt bad for Justin because I knew he wanted you so bad, been there...he needed to see you, been there too.
Once it became apparent that he was more than just some casual fuck, I knew I had to accept him.
I always accepted whatever Brian Kinney threw at me...this time it meant Justin. And I did.
Damn...I grew to like the kid! Sometimes I would see myself when I talked to him. We had more in common than I thought (which means either he's mature for his age, or I am extremely childish for mine).
I grew to love him, too. It wasn't instantaneous, like with you...but I found myself wanting to be sure Justin was around.
He loved you...I knew you cared about him, loved him...so naturally, I came to love him also.
He's like that kid brother that ninety-nine percent of the time, I didn't know whether to hug or smack!
But he changed things.
He changed us.
In someway for the better...I think.
Other ways....he separated us.
But I don't blame him. He had the balls I never developed.
He could tell you, straight out, how he felt for you.
Whereas I kept it locked away...even though everyone knew. As long as I didn't say it, it wasn't really true.
Then...
David and Ben.
Wow...I never thought in my wildest dreams, I would have such luck with love.
I did though.
David, sure he was a "husband" in our little union, the one in total control, but I know he loved me. He had so much more experience in life and love than me...how could I have expected him to change roles?
Had it been five or six years down the road...maybe it would have been different. Probably not. I am who I am today partly because of the gifts he gave me.
Ben. Perhaps the most giving person I ever met. Man, did I love him. He never looked at me like I was a kid, or precious china that he needed to protect...he looked at me like I was a man. I was his equal. He was the voice of reason in my world.
He led me down a road that I had never embarked upon. He taught me how life comes and goes, but love always remains. He showed me the importance of embracing today and saying, "fuck you" to yesterday and tomorrow.
Ben's leaving was terrible. But it was beautiful too. I never felt so at peace with anything else in my life.
He needed to go. The opportunity was one not to pass up.
He wanted me to join him. I couldn't. He understood...really did.
I had a store and another edition of the comic to finish with Justin.
Mom and Vic needed me around.
He kissed me and simply said, moments before he got into the car for the long drive, "Make him deserve you."
He meant you.
For all the good times and bad, all the joy and sadness and smiles and laughs and fights and pain...you have been my one constant.
You are all those emotions that I can't conquer.
You are the one thing that can make me smile, even as everyone else cries.
You make me strong. You make me powerful. You make me believe.
I denied it and denied it. And I didn't have the balls to say it because I didn't want you to leave. You never had to make me a promise. And I know you didn't need one from me. The truth is...I promised myself years ago that I would get over my feelings but I haven't...so I broke a promise to myself.
Since I am coming clean....I love you.
I love you more than anything. I look at you and I see everything that is right. Everything that makes sense. I love you because I want to love you, not because of some youth filled fantasy. I need you because I love you, not that other way around. Loving you was and is, natural to me. Like breathing or laughing.
I see you, right through you. I know what's inside you, even if you don't. I know you love. I know you can succeed at anything. Even at giving your heart.
I love you, Brian Kinney, for everything you were, everything you are, and everything you will be.
My love to you is a gift. There is no receipt so you can't return it ...and nothing is needed or expected in return.
No matter where I go, the love that fills my heart...my love for you, will always be there.
I haven't said it before. It may a little late now. But I wanted you to know.
I wish I had said it sooner, just to see what your reaction would be. But it's better telling you like this...just in case you didn't feel the same.
How could I possibly leave you my heart when I am gone, if it's broken?
So I leave you with a heart full of love.
Please know that I will always be here. Always.
Every moment you are awake, I will be walking with you.
Every night of sleep, I will be lying beside you.
Anytime you need me, Brian, I will be here. I will always be ready to listen. Just talk. Just talk. I will hear you. I promise.
Know that you are worthy of all the good things life has to offer. You have gifts to give. Give them with all your heart. You have people that need you.
Lindsay needs you. Gus needs you. Mom needs you. The boys need you.
And you need them. Don't be afraid to be vulnerable. Don't be afraid to talk. For me, please, love with everything you are. The way I love you.
You are my heart. You are my soul. You have made me the happiest man in the world and beyond.
I will thank the man upstairs for bringing you into my life.
I always have, Brian, and I always will.
Michael
~~
Setting the letter down, tears finally swam free from Brian's hazel eyes.
"Why the fuck did you leave Mikey?"
Brian began a conversation with the air.
"I don't want to be here without you! Don't you fucking understand Michael? I don't exist without you!"
Brian began grabbing chunks of grass and dirt, throwing them at Michael's wood box.
"Galaxy Lad would never leave Captain Astro...and Zepyhr would never leave Rage...why did you leave?"
Screams turned into sobs.
There was no answer. And there was no why.
Wiping the tears from his red eyes, Brian looked to the sky again. The clouds slowly where moving away from a big sun that was determined to shine.
Feeling the light and warmth on his puffy, exhausted face, Brian grabbed the letter and held it to him.
Lying back on the grass, staring into the sky, Brian felt for a moment Michael's eyes on him.
A smile came across his quivering lips.
"Me too Michael...always have, always will."
~end~