Lead Me Home by allie quixotic, Queer As Folk Fanfiction
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Lead Me Home
By allie_quixotic
Time Frame: Post Season Two
Warnings: This story contains references to Ethan. It’s semi-anti-Ethan, but not really. It’s hard to explain. lol
Regardless, this story is not about Ethan and Justin, but rather Justin and Brian and teh love.
“I’m going to be late tonight.” Ethan tells me as he picks up his violin case from the bed. I lay a thick line of
crimson red across the page of my sketch book with a pastel stick. My hand tremors, but I ignore it. I set the red
stick aside and pick up a black one. “Justin?” I scrub the black nub over the paper in long, hard strokes. The paper
rips, but I keep going. “Justin?” Ethan’s hand gently pulls mine away from the paper. I look up at him. “Did you
hear me?” He asks softly.
I remove my hand from his, unable to tell him that I prefer if he didn’t touch me just now. “I heard you.” He nuzzles
the side of my neck and I feel a cold wet panic bubbling under my skin. His arms wrap around my waist, making me
feel trapped. I want to tell him that sometimes I don’t like to be touched, but how do I explain that to someone who
could never possibly understand the reasoning?
He places wet open mouth kisses on my neck as he says, “Tomorrow, we’ll get a Christmas tree.” Images of A
Charlie Brown Christmas flash through my mind. I miss Christmases at home with my parents and Molly. We
always had a tall pine spruce decorated in blue and silver with white twinkling lights. The smell of pine, of
Christmas, would fill up the house and make us all dizzy with joy. “I love you.” He says as he leans in to kiss my
mouth. His lips lay against my mouth and I feel nothing. No heat, no fire, no joy. Just lips and nothing else.
When his lips leave mine I say, “You too.” I’m amazed by my ability to sound sincere. I maneuver my way out of
his embrace and go back to my drawing.
He runs a hand through my long blond locks, and that feeling of wanting to escape bears down on me. “See you
tonight.”
I turn to him and smile, grateful that he doesn’t know me well enough to realize how fake it is. He kisses my cheek
and I count the seconds as I wait for the door to close behind him. As soon as I am alone I rip the piece I was just
working on out of my sketchbook, crumble it into a ball, and throw it across the room. I stand up and look around
Ethan’s shitty apartment. How did I get here? How did I come to be in this place? It’s not even mine, but then again
no place has ever been mine, has it? I stare at the shitty bed, a single mattress supported by moving crates and cinder
blocks. I haven’t had a decent nights sleep in months. Walking over to the window, I attempt to stare out into the
night, but all I can see is my reflection staring back at me. I stand there for a long time. My breath fogs up the
window and blurs my image.
I wonder when it happened. When did I lose myself? When did I become this person? How did I give up the one
person I’d always wanted? How did he give up on me? I clinch my jaw and swallow back the emotions that threaten
to bleed out of me. Did I really ask for that much of him? Was I so needy? Was it wrong to want him to say he loved
me? Was it so much to ask that he care enough about me to not make me feel like a convenient fuck? Was it too
much for him to ask me to stay? I blink back tears as I try to push these thoughts away, but no such luck. I could be
with a hundred other guys, I could live with them, they could love me, but they’ll never be Brian. They’ll never be
him.
* * *
I stand in front of the tree. Ethan wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him. The tree is pretty much
how I’d imagined it would be. It’s small, leaning to the left, decorated in cheap homemade ornaments and multi-
colored lights that have a few bulbs missing. It smells like rotten food and pine scented air freshener. The skirt of the
tree is an old shirt of Ethan’s. Underneath the tree two small boxes, pathetically wrapped with the comic section of
the newspaper, are masquerading as gifts. Ethan came home with this tree last night, excited about the fact that
someone had actually thrown it away. I don’t know why he was surprised. I would have tossed it too. There really
are no words to describe how depressing it is.
Ethan rests his chin on my shoulder. “It’s beautiful, just like you.” I wonder if he is seriously comparing me to his
crappy little dumpster tree. That’s really something that just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “This is our
very first Christmas together.” He kisses the side of my neck. “I know it isn’t much, but someday we’ll have a huge
tree with expensive decorations and we’ll curl up in front of the fire and make love all night long.” He dreams big,
but then again he always has. He seems to have this pinpoint focus on money. Like he thinks money equates
happiness. Brian has money, is he happy? I close my eyes and try to clear my mind of those thoughts. When Ethan’s
hands push under my shirt I open my eyes and pull away from him. “What’s wrong?”
I turn to him and smile. “Nothing.” I force a yawn. “Just tired.”
He smiles at me and I know what he wants. He holds out his hands for me as if the words, “I’m tired” are code for
“let’s fuck.” Walking over to the door, I grab my coat and my scarf and put them on.
“Where are you going? I thought you were tired.”
I look over at him and grab my messenger bag. “I…uh…have a project I need to finish.” It sounds lame, even to me.
He crosses his arms over his chest, huffs, and stares at me. “It’s almost midnight. It’s Christmas Eve. School is out
for winter break.” It’s like he has a list inside his head and for each statement he makes a little checkmark by each
item.
I try not to glare at him as I say, “Don’t give me any shit alright? Do I ever list off reasons for why you shouldn’t go
fucking practice?”
“That’s different.”
I raise my eyebrow at him. “How is it different?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re going to see him.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “I’m going to work on a project. Don’t wait up.”
“Justin, don’t go.” My hand is on the doorknob. My back is to him. “Stay.”
His words come easy, like a hot knife through butter. They flow out of his mouth like water down a stream. He says
all the right things and I wonder why I can no longer make them mean anything to me. Nothing has turned out like I
thought it would. All the things I thought I wanted and needed are right here, but they don’t mean anything. Ethan is
just a man, and his words are just words. It suddenly hits me, and I grip the doorknob at the realization. My hand
shakes, rattling the already loose knob. I never wanted words, or romance, or time and attention from just anyone. I
wanted those things from Brian. I just thought…I just thought if I could find someone, anyone, who could say the
things I wanted to hear, who could do the things I wanted to do, who could say they loved me, that I would be
happy. That having those things would somehow make me feel complete, cared for, wanted, needed, loved. It could
be Ethan saying and doing these things, or anyone else, but if it isn’t Brian, if it couldn’t be Brian, then it is all just
superfluous.
“Why are you going back to him?”
I look over my shoulder. His anger is visible in the way he’s holding his body. “I’m not. I told you I have a project
to finish.”
“What is it about Brian Kinney?” He goes on as if I didn’t say anything. “I know he’s beautiful and he’s rich, but he
treated you like shit. He cheated on you. He used you. He…and he’ll never love you in the way that you want him
to. He’ll never love you like I do.”
I turn to face him. “No, he won’t.” My voice is calmer than I feel. He won’t ever love me like anyone else will.
Brian’s love is unique, original. It can’t be contained or duplicated.
“He’s a selfish shit who probably wouldn’t even care if you fucking died.” His cruelty cuts through me. It slices me
in half, leaving me raw and bleeding all over his shitty floors.
I shake my head to clear away the images I can never grasp. “You don’t know…” The words barely make it over my
lips.
He walks up to me and grabs my upper arms. I flinch at the sudden touch. “So tell me. Tell me what he can give you
that I can’t? Is it money?”
I pull myself away from him. He doesn’t know Brian. Ethan knows about the prom and the bashing, but he doesn’t
how Brian must have felt watching as I almost died right in front of his eyes. He doesn’t know how Brian took care
of me after I left the hospital. How when I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, he’d take me in his
arms, and hold me until the terror subsided. He doesn’t know any of that.
I turn away from Ethan and open the door. He reaches out for me. His fingers, calloused from years of pressing
against strings, wrap around my wrist. “Don’t go. Please don’t go. I’m sorry. I love you. I know you love me too.
We can be so happy together.”
I shake my head and turn to him. I look at him for a long time. I feel the weight of his fingers on my skin. I could
leave. I should leave. I don’t want to hurt Ethan. Just like I never wanted to hurt Brian…but he hurt me too. This
couldn’t be all my fault. I may have driven the car down this freeway, but Brian’s the one that left me on the side of
the road without any means to find my way home. How did I get so fucking lost? Is my sense of direction that
fucking bad?
“Okay Ethan.” I drop my bag to the floor and give into something I never really wanted. “Okay.”
* * *
The night twists and turns around me like the branches of an ancient oak tree. Cold slick fingers dance along my
skin. The chill of their touch is absorbed into my blood stream. I feel like ice. A flicker of blue neon lights becomes
visible in the distance. I am a lone boat on the ocean, and those flickering lights become my lighthouse. I shiver
against the cold because I’m naked and wet, like a newborn child. Tiny shards of glass easily cut the bottom of my
feet as I move much too slowly towards what feels like home. I ignore the burn, the sting, the fucking pain, because
I know in the end getting to those lights means freedom. Love. Unspoken connections. Promises, protection, hope.
Life. Each step I take forward moves my destination further away. It confuses me, so I take a step backward, hoping
to draw the light toward me. It doesn’t work. Tears of frustration stain my cheeks. I just want to get there, be there,
live there, love there. Be held there by a comfort so familiar I can fucking taste it.
I feel smooth silk against the tops of my feet. It snakes its way around my legs, up, up, around my waist, until it
settles around my neck in a relaxed embrace. I thought it would be cold against my skin, but it’s hot. It’s pure
fucking heat. The longer it stays on me the hotter it gets, the heavier it gets, the less smooth it gets. Its hot, heavy
coarseness rubs the skin around my neck raw with each labored step I take towards a destination I can’t reach. I
want to touch the scarf, to feel it, to know it’s really soft, and smooth, and light, but my arms feel glued to my sides.
My hands are balled in fists, and no matter what I try they won’t unclench.
The ground below my feet shifts from wet broken glass to rough cool concrete. The blue lights in the distance snap
off and I am shoved into the black of the night by a gust of wind so strong it knocks me to my knees.
“Did you see the looks on their faces?”
I feel my lips move to form the words, but no sound escapes my throat. The heavy odor of exhaust fills my nose and
chokes me. I am trapped on my knees, unable to move despite the overwhelming feeling that I should be running,
running fast, and far, and not looking back. Never look back.
“Taylor.” One word spoken out of the mouth of a devil I can’t see. A phantom I can’t fight.
“Yeah, we gave them a prom they’ll never forget.”
His words curl around me like smoke. They are soft wispy nothings that flow around me, but not in me.
When his words end the music begins. It’s an old slow song that I want to remember, but can’t. My body
involuntarily sways to the song. The scarf around my neck gets lighter, warmer, and becomes a bright beacon of
light that blinds me.
“Don’t forget who’s taking you home, and in whose arms you’re gonna be…”
The scarf fades back into the darkness, and its heaviness returns like a shackle around my neck. It tilts my body
forward.
“Even if it was ridiculously romantic.”
His words are whispered into my ear. I want to see him, call out to him, hold him, anything. I try to open my mouth,
but it’s sealed shut. I have been silenced. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m locked within my own body, unable to
avoid whatever fate may bring.
The cold concrete bites into my knees as the weight around my neck increases. I feel myself being pulled down into
something I can’t escape. “Tsk, Tsk Taylor.” I feel the sickness in my stomach rise to my throat. The air around me
stills as bright florescent lights slowly flicker on above me. These light bring no comfort or hope. They bring fear
and death. I feel the shadow of a boy fall over me. It’s so cold, like someone has attached an IV and is pumping ice
straight into my veins. The heat of the scarf does little to warm me. The body the shadow belongs to gets closer. It
reaches out, grabs my hair, snapping my head back. I want to close my eyes, but I can’t. “Taylor.” Chris Hobbs
smiles down at me. His hand moves from my hair to my cheek. I want to scream, but I’m gagged. I want to fight, but
I’m frozen. My eyes are wide and I feel the fear building up in me like a slow burning fire.
His hand slides along my cheek until I am free of his touch. A trail of fire burns my skin where his hand has been.
“Don’t be scared Taylor.” He takes another step back and I see it, gripped tight in his hands. A baseball bat. He
swings it over his shoulder and I flinch. He laughs and it echoes off the concrete wall, floor, and ceiling of the
parking garage. “It won’t hurt Taylor. You won’t even remember it…or him.” He moves into position like he’s at
home plate just waiting for the right ball to be thrown his way. He taps the bat against the soles of his shoes. His
eyes never leave me. I can’t take my eyes off the bat. Thick, dark, blood seeps from the smooth grained surface.
Hobbs brings the bat up. The blood drips down the length of the bat and stains his hands. He leers at me. Softly in
the distance violin music begins to play.
“Justin!”
* * *
I jolt awake, immediately reaching up and touching my head. I move slowly from the bed, trying to contain the sobs
that gush from my lips. Ethan doesn’t hear me. Ethan never hears me. I think if a fucking bomb went off Ethan
would sleep right through it. I crawl across the floor until I’m in the corner. I can’t stop shaking. They’ve been
getting worse, these nightmares. I hadn’t had any in so long, and now they’re back. Maybe this is why I’ve felt the
distance growing between Ethan and me. Maybe this is why I’ve been thinking too much about Brian. Even if Ethan
woke up, even if he held me, it wouldn’t be enough. He wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t get it. I need… I wipe
my face with the back of my hand and push myself to my feet. The streetlights illuminate the apartment, and I use
their faint glow to guide my way into getting dressed. I open the door, and, as quietly as I can, leave Ethan’s
apartment.
I forgot my coat, so when I step outside the cold air freezes the breath in my lungs. I feel a familiar sense of terror
washing over me, that fear that someone is after me, that someone is going to get me. I don’t think. I just run. I let
my feet carry me down familiar streets, my breath ragged, tears streaming down my face, knowing that I won’t feel
safe until I get to him, because this dream was more terrifying than any that preceded it. It’s been three months since
I left him. Three months. Will he even see me? Will he let me in? Will he…what? What do I expect him to do? My
mind wants to stop running, but my body refuses the request.
I’m a complete fucking mess when I reach the loft. I quickly enter the code on the front door and run up the steps
two at a time. This is fucking insane. I know it is. He’s probably not home, and if he is I doubt he’s alone. I just need
to see him. If I can just see his face and know he’s alright, that will be enough. I arrive at the metal door and pound
on it without even stopping to think about what I’m doing here. The only clear thought I’m capable of is, Brian be
here, be here, be here.
The loft door slides open. “Brian.” I struggle to get his name past my lips.
“Jesus Justin, what the fuck are you-” I shake my head and start to back away from him. He’s here. He’s okay. I can
go. I can leave. “Justin.” My name rolls off his tongue in an all too familiar echo. I close my eyes tighter and try to
tell myself to just breathe. Just breathe. I feel his hand grip the front of my shirt as he brings me forward. I want to
tell him that he doesn’t have to do that. I’m fine. I just had to see him and… He wraps his arms around me and
presses his lips to my ear. “He’s not here. You’re safe.”
My arms are pressed between us. My hands lay flat against his bare chest. My breath catches in my throat at his
words. Those same words he would whisper to me night after night when I’d wake up screaming. I shake my head.
“Sorry. Sorry. So sorry.” I hear myself saying, only I don’t know if I’m sorry that I’m here or sorry that I ever left
him in the first place.
“Come on.” He pulls me with him as we walk backward into the loft. He lets me go for a fraction of a second to
close the door. Then his arms are back around me, leading me into the loft, until we reach the couch. Our moves
become automatic as he sits down on the couch and I lay beside him, my head on his lap. I drape my arm over his
legs as he runs his fingers through my hair. I close my eyes, sucking up this comfort, this familiar sense of security
that only Brian can provide. I shouldn’t be here and we both know it. I left him. I have no right to ask for this, but I
miss it, miss him. I feel selfish, confused, and lonely.
I take a deep breath and curl my knees up to my chest. “I just needed to see you. I needed to make sure.” His hand
stills in my hair.
“How long?” His voice is rough. I don’t ask what he means because I know. I want to say, since I left, but I can’t
answer him. I can’t admit it or say it because then I will feel it. I will feel the weight of everything that has happened
from the first night I met him until this very moment. “Justin?”
I don’t speak. I just begin to cry. Big silent tears seep from my eyes, glide over the bridge of my nose and are soaked
up by his jeans. As it turns out, not vocalizing it didn’t stop the weight of it from crushing me. He pulls me up until
I’m straddling his lap. His arms wrap around me in a way that I know I no longer deserve. I shouldn’t need this or
him. I shouldn’t want it, but Brian lives and breathes inside me. I cling to him because no matter who I’m with, no
matter where I go, he’ll always be there, in me.
I press my face into his neck, my hands resting against his bare chest. “Brian. Brian. Why?” I don’t expect an
answer because I don’t even know what I’m asking. His hands are strong as they move up and down my back. He
doesn’t know what to say to me. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know why I’m here, but I know he wants
me to be. He can act all he wants, he can push, and pull, and fucking shove, but I know him. I fucking know him,
even though I tried to convince myself I didn’t. I can’t stop the words that come out of my mouth, just like I couldn’t
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