I don't know if anyone has really noticed, but I've been on a bit of a death/destruction/abuse/rape/violence phase. I've also been on a POV phase, which is unusual for me. Anyways, this is Brian's POV and he meets Justin in a very AU way. I know there's no background information but that's the point; I want you to think and ponder about the circumstances. Cheers! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I met you on a rainy day. It was dark but picturesque, the kind of night that only comes every so often. The wind passed through the fabric of my jacket with ease; but it didn’t bother me. Maybe in my state of my mind it was refreshing. I live in a small town- I had heard about you. You’re 17. You’re Craig Taylor’s son. Rich. Spoiled. Damn sexy. He sent you off to boarding school. You gave your Stepmother hell. Bad influence on the younger sister. You liked to use your sexuality to get what you want. Taylor told me it all. It was a typical teenage tragedy, and I thought nothing of it all until I met you. The description didn’t seem fit. You seemed too angelic to be all of those things. I expected you to be dressed in an over-revealing, trashy outfit. I expected you to pounce on every male in your vicinity. I expected you to laugh like crazy and giggle flirtatiously. I expected your voice to be deep and throaty, and I expected your touch to be cold. Your glance wasn’t tempting. It was gentle and shy. You offered me your umbrella- “You’re going to get a cold you know”. Your voice was soft and quiet- I had to learn to strain my ears to hear you. I told you I was fine, and you nodded. You didn’t push it. Ten minutes past by, each minute providing enough rain for a lifetime. I cursed the rain and cursed the taxi’s- how could they take so long to arrive? Of course, I told you to take the first taxi. I didn’t mean it, but I told you to. Yes, I had been waiting here longer then you, but what kind of man would I be to let a boy wait in the dark? You told me it was only fair. The taxi driver was not patient. So we both got in- we could share. We met in that taxi. We didn’t know one another. We knew of each other, yes, but we didn’t know each other. We were both going to the ballet. A shared location and suddenly we knew so much about each other. It came as a surprise to me that you were going. Nobody knows that I go. And suddenly you did. What kind of guy goes to the fucking ballet? But you didn’t show an ounce of surprise. Perhaps, somehow, you knew I was going. Which is why you said you were going. You just wanted to bed me. I couldn’t blame you- but wouldn’t the ballet turn you off? Not a chance, my brain told me- not a single person in the world, excluding you now, knows where I go Friday nights. You played with the fabric of your jacket. Neither of us bothered with small talk. You asked if I bothered if you lit up. I shrugged- why would I give a fuck? You were seventeen, so really, you shouldn’t smoke, but what’s it to me? You nodded, and your small hands mechanically lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. The driver was not happy. That was the first taxi I ever got kicked out of. You asked me if I was mad. I shook my head. But yes, I was fucking mad. We would miss the ballet. There was at least another mile to walk, and it was fucking freezing. The road was lonely and dark and we probably wouldn’t get there. I added all of this to the conspiracy of you wanting to bed me. “He’s going to kill me, you know…” I didn’t care who would kill you but to be polite, I asked who. “Jack…you know, Jack Bonicelli?” Of course I knew Jack. He owned the theatre. 30 last month, he had just inherited a fortune large enough to match his ego. For whatever reason, there was disappointment. Disappointment in the fact that you were only going to the ballet to see Jack, disappointment in the fact that you were obviously with Jack, disappointment in sitting so close to you, but at the same time, so far away... The look in your eyes made me unable to shrug it all away. The phone call that took place a second later- with Jack, I guessed- confirmed my suspicions. Jack was your lover. Only lovers get mad like that. But they shouldn’t. Jack was violent, I knew that. And I knew that tone of voice belonged to the type of men your father was. “I’m really, really sorry. Are you sure you don’t want us to give you a lift?” I shook my head. "One hundred percent positive? Honestly, I really do feel terrible...I insist, let us drop you off..." Since when do seventeen-year-olds talk like that? Where are the "likes" and the "oh my gods"? You're not like other seventeen-year-olds. I nodded again, this time less confidently. You knew I went to the ballet- a secret nobody knew- yet you didn’t know my name. Fate likes to play with me in these ways. I refuse to let her. “My names Brian, you know” You smiled, showing off your pearly whites. Smiling made you look even younger, even more innocent. Looks are -above all- deceiving, I tried to tell myself. From what I had heard, you were anything but innocent. “I know…” You didn’t tell me yours, but I knew, and you knew I knew. Justin. Jack's Justin.. There was bitter resentment in that. I had just met you, in the strangest of circumstances…but it would all be over. Someone was coming to pick you up. I wish I had accepted the umbrella. - - - - - - - - - - - - If you girls like this, I'll write more because a few of my fics are ending soon.