More than Yesterday, Not as Much as Tomorrow
Author: Elsa Rose
Summary: Justin never saw Brian after he sent him away at the end of the 101 – but that doesn’t mean he forgot the man who changed his life.

For Judy


Brian relaxed back in his chaise. Life was good even if it was predictable these days. Not much had changed for him personally in the last seven years. Oh, he’d finally bought out Ryder, but found lately that the challenge of running his own advertising firm was waning. He’d cut down on his tricking, drinking and recreational drugs. Not for any particular reason, it was just time.

Michael had settled down with Ben, they even had managed to find a foster kid of their own; Hunter. Brian was still somewhat in awe of what the two of them had done with the boy, now a young adult. It wasn’t something he could do himself, but then why would he. He had always known he’d live alone. It was something he’d craved from the time he was a child. Alone was good. Alone meant you could control your life, your environment, and your peace of mind. 

He glanced over at a framed photo of himself holding Gus the night his son was born. It was funny, each time he looked at that photo, he also saw blue eyes. Blue eyes filled with fear, laughter, passion, awe and finally teary-eyed pain. It wasn’t something he’d ever tell anyone, not Mikey, and certainly not Lindsay. Being haunted by blue eyes and a shy smile was hardly a Kinney thing. He wondered when it was that his two long time friends had finally broken away from him and made their own lives. He realized that the night Gus had been born, had been the catalyst that allowed all of them to become adults. Only it had taken him longer than the others. He always had been more stubborn. Maybe it was his Irish heritage. 

Brian shook his head and stood up. The picture haunted him, but then so did the red glow of disappearing taillights covered in raindrops like tears. He still, to this day couldn’t watch a car disappear. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, He padded barefoot back to the chaise. There were a lot of things that haunted him; yet another reason why being a lone wolf was good. He could hide behind his iron mask of indifference and no one would be the wiser. 

Looking at his watch, Brian picked up his phone and hit redial. He only called one number these days from home. “Hey Kiddo,” his voice softened.

“Hey Daddy,” Gus grinned. He was tucked into bed and had been waiting for Brian’s phone call. “I did a wheelie today; two of them.”

“Cool, does your mom know?” Brian asked with a laugh. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Gus snickered. He was seven, but knew when to keep his mouth shut. “Dad I was wondering, what if I didn’t answer the phone at seven, what if I was still in the bath or something?” 

Brian called nightly at seven. He had from the time Gus had reached three and learned about making and receiving phone calls. His father wasn’t allowed to participate in his life very much, but he was allowed to talk to his son daily. Lately as Gus became older, the boy had begun to worry. Things his momma said about his dad were bothering him more than he let on.

“That’s why you have voice mail Sonny Boy. I’d leave a message and try again later, or you’d call me.”

“What if you were out, or maybe….” he hesitated, “trick or treating.”

Brian’s face scrunched as he thought about what Gus said. “Gus, have I ever missed yet?”

“No.”

“Even on Halloween?” 

“You always call me on Halloween.” 

“So even trick or treating I still find the time to call my favorite Sonny Boy.”

“I’m your only Sonny Boy,” Gus giggled.

“And I’m your only dad.”

“No, I saw another you on TV. You were naked, but mom says that naked guys that are statues are art,” he giggled again, he was after all seven. “You had a big penis.”

Brian was a bid disconcerted. “You saw a statue of me?” he asked.

“Yep, definitely you. It even has that little scar you got when you fell off your bike when you were six.” Gus grinned. He loved having good stuff to tell his dad. “And there was pictures of you and everything. Mom said it wasn’t really you, but just the artist’s imagination. But I ‘member the scar. You showed me last year when I was six.” 

“Interesting,” Brian said not knowing what to say.

“Mom says that the artist is very, very famous and that he’s never met you; not in his whole life. Mamma said you’re no doubt ‘torious in backrooms, but mom told her to shut up.” 

“Who is this artist and where did you see these renditions of me?” 

“They’re at Mom’s work. They’re having a fancy thingy there tonight and the TV guys put it on the news. Momma’s staying home and mom’s there. She said she’s going to be really, really late, ‘cause this is an important night.”

“Interesting,” Brian repeated. 

“Daaaad, it isn’t very interesting. It’s just pictures and statues of a naked you.” 

“Well if it was a naked you, wouldn’t you find that interesting?” Brian asked.

“No, that would be gross. But it’s okay if you are naked in mom’s work, ‘cause momma says you’re always showing what you got to the men of Pittsburgh.”

“Your momma has a big mouth,” Brian muttered. Would the bitch never give him a break?

“Daaaad,” Gus said and sighed. He hated that his dad and his momma didn’t like each other. 

The two of them spent the next ten minutes discussing Gus’ day, but Brian’s mind wasn’t on his son’s daily adventures, but rather on why likeness’ of himself were on display at Sidney Bloom’s. When he said goodnight to Gus, he sat for a few minutes thinking before taking a chance and dialing the Bloom gallery. 

“Hey Linds,” Brian said. “I understand I’m on show tonight.”

“Hardly Brian, the artist has chosen to represent someone who does bear a resemblance to you, but it’s unlikely that you were the model.”

“Oh, why is that?” Brian was walking to the bedroom. He needed to change. 

“Well for one thing, the artist is completely reclusive. No one has actually seen him.”

“Hardly likely,” Brian drawled. “You don’t end up at Sidney’s hiding under a basket.” 

“It’s true, he’s never been seen, not by anyone. He has an agent and even his agent hasn’t met him. He has had his name changed so you can’t even look up the history of the man.”

“A good detective should be able to fix that.” Brian pulled out a burgundy silk shirt and a pair of Armani trousers. 

“No, that’s part of the mystery, many have tried,” she laughed. “Aren’t you going to ask what his name is?”

“No.” 

“It’s a strange one.” 

“Alphonse?”

“No silly, stranger than that,” she giggled. “It’s I.M. Onlybkstrik.”

“Now that is strange,” Brian agreed. “Is it Danish?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does the I M stand for?” 

“No one knows. I have to go Brian, it’s getting intense here, his work is selling off the walls.” 

“And why not if it looks like me.” Brian grinned he loved to tease Lindsay. 

“Brian, it’s the quality of the work, not the subject that has people clamoring the world over for IM’s work.” 

“Whatever floats your boat Linds,” Brian said and disconnected. He needed both hands to get dressed. 

Later, standing in front of the brightly lit gallery, Brian couldn’t take his eyes off of the very obvious crowd of patrons singing the praises of the artist as they entered and left. Finally, making himself move, he entered and was immediately assaulted with visions of himself. It was both embarrassing and frightening. It wasn’t that the facial features in the various paintings and sculptures showed his features in a photo like quality, it was more the aura of the man who stood in front of each piece that had been captured. That and the fact that Brian himself recognized various parts of his wardrobe over the last seven years. Only someone close to him would recognize Brian Kinney as the main focus of all of this. 

He slowly walked the perimeter of the room, a glass of white wine in his hand as he looked at each piece of art. There was no doubt in his mind that he had been the rather unwitting object of this artist’s muse. If he wasn’t so confident in himself, he’d almost feel like he’d been stalked. 

“They’re wonderful,” Lindsay exclaimed as she came to stand beside him. “The artist has captured the very essence of you Brian, though I’ve never seen you smile like that.” They were looking at a picture that showed his face filled with loving wonder as he gazed at something that could only be imagined, but not seen on the canvas.

“Believe me Linds, it’s all in his mind. I’ve never posed for any artist in my life.”  He looked around and asked, “What are the red dots all about?” 

“It means the piece has been sold.”  She looked around and pointed, “Oh, I think the only one not sold is that one.” She nodded to a rather small oil painting that was more representational than anything. It could have been most anything, but what Brian saw was his face covered in rain, his hair hanging damp to his head as he watched with regret a car speeding away. Of course that’s what he saw, what anyone else saw was merely daubs of paint, smears of color that could mean most anything. Lindsay walked over to it. “Oh, it’s titled <I>More than Yesterday</I>. I wonder what that means?” 

“I’ll buy it,” Brian said.

“It’s priced rather high,” Lindsay stated as she checked her catalogue. “Considering the size of it. It’s rather intense. I just don’t understand the whole concept and apparently neither does anyone else here.” 

“I didn’t ask to discuss the pros and cons of the painting or the price. I just said I wanted to buy it so put the little red dot on the damn thing and have it delivered to my loft.” 

“But Brian,” Lindsay began, but he’d already gone. She stood there holding his empty wine glass and looking curiously at the picture and closed gallery door where he’d disappeared. 

Brian strode through the night leaving his car behind. He was in no mood to drive but he needed to clear his head. I.M. Onlybkstrik, I M Only b k’s trick. What the fuck is that all about? He didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out the name the artist was using. So this damn artist was a former trick, apparently a trick that had never really left, if these pictures were anything to go by. Damned if he could think of just who the trick was and why he’d been obsessed for what had to be at least six or seven years. 

Justin sat in the dark. He liked sitting in the dark and in fact lived his life much like a vampire, in that he rarely stirred during the daylight hours. It hadn’t been a conscious thing for him to do, to change his life from day to night. But rather something that had gradually happened. No doubt because of all the time he’d spent in the private hospital his parents had shipped him off to. The interesting stuff happened at night, the boring things in the daytime. And considering the amount of money his father had paid out to keep him locked up, the staff was willing to do anything to accommodate him, even allowing him to sequester himself in his private room during the day, blinds closed, doors locked.

For Justin had been confined until he’d come of age and had been able to get himself released using a rather astute lawyer that he’d found on the Internet. Someone who specialized in pro bono work for young adults who’d run afoul of homophobic parents. 

But by then, Justin Taylor who’d entered the hospital relatively sane, though beaten and broken thanks to dear old dad, was leaving not broken but slightly bent. He had developed a fear of being out in the daylight. No matter how irrational his mind told him the fear was, something else told him differently. It wasn’t easy living in the dark on the outside, but he’d persisted to the point of getting a degree in fine arts and developing the skills he’d honed while inside his special hell. 

He had something to keep his hopes alive; he had the vision, both mental and physical of the night he’d met the man he would love for the rest of his life. The first year inside, Justin dreamed of being rescued by his Knight, though he knew it was a foolish dream, he had been young after all. Young enough that fairy tales and happy endings had recently been part of his life. He was allowed to read the daily papers that the staff discarded and in them he’d tracked the life of Brian Kinney; for Brian was on his way up in the world of advertising and he was young and beautiful, perfect for photo ops at gatherings of beautiful people. 

He was allowed to sketch and draw as much as he wanted; his father after all paid dearly for his ‘creative crafts classes’ and sketchbooks and pencils were cheap compared to some things, the staff didn’t mind how many he used. It was actually that and his memories that kept him from falling into the abyss of insanity and loneliness that threatened at times to pull him down. He wasn’t insane… much, just gay. Just a gay boy who had the misfortune to be born into a family with enough money that they could hide their problems in an over grown building tucked deep in the Pennsylvania hills. 

His lawyer had managed to get the courts to award him a settlement large enough to pay for his tuition and expenses at PIFA. They’d also seen to it that he had enough to live on as well. Justin’s art portfolio that he’d submitted had stunned the admissions committee enough that they had no problem granting him the privilege of attending only after dark. For they and the teachers involved in this subterfuge, knew that there would come a day when Justin Taylor would be famous and consequently so would PIFA. 

What no one had counted on was Justin’s disappearance from the world at large the moment he received his honors degree. He’d built up a healthy bank balance with various artistic endeavors through the Internet in web design and software illustration. He continued to receive money for these things, but his true love was a combination of sculpture and oils depending on his mood. It was in these two things he excelled and because of the fan base he’d built on the Internet, he never bothered to shop his work around. He’d originally profiled himself as I.M. Onlybkstrik as a way of denigrating what he’d been made to feel so long ago. He’d come up with a fictitious background and even submitted a self-portrait in the style of Picasso. 

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that why not lose Justin Taylor completely and he’d had his name officially changed just before he’d walked away from the hospital. His lawyer was if anything, extremely efficient. During his PIFA years, Justin lived a double life. He wasn’t about to reveal his alter ego to anyone, certainly not to his father’s lawyers. He discovered that as long as he wasn’t doing anything illegal, no one really cared what he called himself. 

During his years of captivity, as he liked to refer to them, Justin had made friends with the cyber netherworld. It was nice to know he wasn’t alone in his pain. He became friends with others who kept to the dark of night, friends that would support each other no matter what. Occasionally friends with more hacking skills than his came in handy. Which of course was one of the reasons, that even the best detective would never discover the whereabouts of Justin Taylor. 

He’d also met a few wanderers in the night on the streets of various cities he’d visited who also had become his friends, some of them even lived with him at various times.  Best of all they weren’t averse to doing errands that were required in the daylight hours. It was from these friends he’d managed to learn more about Brian Kinney. At first he wanted to know more about the man because he needed to feel something other than hatred for his parents. Then he’d woven enough dreams and fantasies about him that the Brian Kinney he’d known for barely a night had become legendary in his mind. He knew it was wrong to be as obsessive as he was with him, but for some reason he couldn’t stop himself. 

Considering the chances that he’d ever meet the man again were slim to more, made Justin feel justified in his covert stalking. At least he didn’t go through his garbage, he did draw some lines in his obsession. 

“Hey,” Gabe greeted as he knocked on Justin’s open door.  He was one of the lost boys who’d discovered Justin was always good for meal. 

“Hey Gabe.” Justin smiled as he stood and stretched. “I made cookies and there’s lots of milk if you’re hungry.”

“Cool,” the boy replied as he headed for the kitchen. “I watched the crowd at the gallery tonight. Lots of people showed up, even that guy you’re always drawing. He didn’t look too happy though.”

“Brian was there?” Justin bounced on the pads of his toes. “FUCK.” 

“You had to know he’d find out. I mean shit, IM you must have sold like a zillion pictures of him over the years.” 

“A zillion and one,” Justin laughed. “And that doesn’t count the sculptures.” 

“Yeah, I liked the one of his dick.” Gabe had his mouth full of cookie, but Justin knew what he’d said.

“I took a bit of artistic license with that one. I mean in seven years it had to have grown some, after all it’s a muscle and gets lots of exercise.” 

“If that was true, mine would be dragging on the floor,.” Gabe snorted as he poured another glass of cold milk. 

“It could happen,” Justin laughed. He wished he’d had the nerve to go even anonymously to the gallery show, but he hadn’t dared. For a number of reasons, the least of which was that he didn’t know how to face his dream lover. The perfect blond boy ass that brazenly declared he was going home with Brian was no longer. Instead, there was now a young man with prematurely white hair, a scar on his forehead that rivaled the legendary Harry Potter’s and a gimp hand that couldn’t even hold his dick when he pissed. Thank you daddy dearest. It was little wonder he stayed hidden in the shadows of the world. At least there it didn’t matter what the fuck he looked like, or how ridiculous his painting technique was. Being ambidextrous did have its advantages, but sometimes it looked fucking weird. 

“Sure it could.” Gabe looked at Justin. “Can I take some of these to the other guys?” He knew he really didn’t have to ask, but he always did. 

“I have some in bags in the pantry.” Justin reached for a cookie and took a bite. “Not bad. I kind of like it with the crunchy peanut butter.” 

“I like the little jam thumbprints.” Gabe licked his lips of the last crumbs. “Raspberry jelly is my favorite.” 

“I know,” Justin said as he finished his cookie. “Mine too.” 

“I’ll check in on your forum when we break at the cyber café.” Gabe had recently been given a job at an all night café thanks to Justin’s intervention. He was enjoying making money that didn’t involve sucking cock. Justin let him stay at the house for nothing right now, but he planned on chipping in for expenses when he got his first check.

“I’ll be there. I want to see my reviews. If there’s anything interesting I’ll post them.” Justin’s forum had a large, almost cult like following. His interests were so diversified that his website blog and forum attracted young and old from all over the globe. 

Brian’s walk had taken him to the diner. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but the lighted window looked inviting. Opening the door he stepped inside to the familiar smells and looked at his refuge of earlier years. “Hey,” he said coming up behind Debbie and kissing her cheek. “I thought you retired?” 

“Brian.” Debbie turned and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. “I am retired, but every now and then I get the itch and the only thing I can do is scratch it,” she laughed. “How Carl puts up with me, I don’t know.” 

“He loves you Deb,” Brian replied as he sat at the counter. “I think tonight I’ll have a cup of coffee and one of your lemon bars. Would you like to join me, I don’t see anyone else here.” 

“I don’t mind if I do. It’s been a quiet night. You’d almost think that something exciting was happening and I didn’t get my invite.” Deb poured them both a cup and placed two lemon squares on one plate for them to share.

“Hey, Brian, Ma,” Michael called out as he walked in. “What’s up?” 

“Not much Mikey.” Brian smiled at his old friend. 

“Saw some pictures that kind of look like you. I mean the guy has your shape,” Michael commented as he sat down beside Brian. 

Brian knew that most of the paintings and sculptures that showed his face, showed it with various looks of passion, compassion, joy, but rare was his usual mask of distain. Still he couldn’t understand why only Gus had seen the reality of the fact that each and every one of them was his father. Michael knew him well, even Lindsay, yet they couldn’t see more than a passing resemblance. “I was there.”  Brian looked past Michael at the wall of the diner. He didn’t want to talk about what he’d seen there. “Say Mikey, have you ever really noticed my tricks?”

“Noticed?” Michael shrugged. “Kind of. I mean when we were first going to Babylon you used to pick guys who were older. I thought of it as the ‘fucking your old man’ stage. Then you went through the ones who looked similar in build and coloring to you. “That was your ‘stick it to yourself’ stage.” 

Brian’s eyebrows rose as he listened and thought back over the years. Mikey did have a point.

“Then you picked up that kid the night Gus was born. That one I never understood, but I thought of it as “damned if I’ll admit I’m getting older’ trick,” he snickered and high fived his mother who was laughing. “Since then you had a year or so of doing anything that walked and breathed and looked reasonable. That was the ‘fuck I just turned thirty’ stage. And for the last few years when I see you trick, it’s usually with anyone blond and twink like. I haven’t given this stage a name. I’ve been busy getting a life unlike some guys I know.” He looked pointedly at Brian. 

“Obsess much?” Brian mumbled before drinking his coffee and standing up.

“You asked,” Michael grinned. “Hey want to go to Woody’s for a beer, Ben’s going to be busy, it’ll be like old times.” 

“No, I’m in the ‘getting a life’ stage. I’m going home.” Brian threw a few bills on the table, kissed Deb’s cheek goodbye and headed for the door. “Later.”

“What was that all about?” Michael asked his mother.

“I don’t know. I feel bad for Brian. He’s all alone with no one to love.” 

“Ma, it’s Brian, he doesn’t need anybody but himself. He’s always been that way.” 

“Not because he wants to be Michael. Brian wants to find love just like the rest of the world. The thing is, he just doesn’t know it.”

“Hey, do you think that guy who did all the art stuff, the paintings and shit, really was doing it of Brian?” Michael looked thoughtful. “I mean if he already kind of likes Brian, maybe he even loves him.”

“Michael, this isn’t a comic book,” Debbie cautioned. 

“He could be like this solitary kind of guy, who maybe was one of Brian’s tricks. Brian was probably his first and of course now he’s obsessed with him. He doesn’t do anybody twice, so this poor schmuck didn’t have a chance of a relationship. Instead he’s been holed up in his lair dreaming about him until finally he has to release it in his art,” Michael said almost jumping in his seat as he thought about it.

“Calm down,” Debbie laughed. “It sounds like a comic book to me.”

“Hey, maybe I could make it one.” Michael grinned at his mother. “Want to go to an art gallery with me? We can check it out. I’m sure the stuff is Brian.” 

“I’d love to Kiddo. You can pick me up tomorrow after lunch, we’ll do the galleries,” Debbie said waving her hand in the air.

“Sure Ma. Ben and I couldn’t stay long tonight, so I didn’t really look at everything. Just the naked ones,” he grinned. “You’ll like those.”

Debbie smacked Michael’s head but laughed none the less. 

Hands in his jacket pockets, head down, Brian walked back to where he’d parked his car. Was it possible the artistic stalker was the trick from the night Gus was born? He was high on drugs and life that night, but there had been something about the kid under the street lamp that had demanded his attention. Head still down, Brian wasn’t paying attention to where he walked. The streets were familiar, he’d walked this way a million times and often much later than this. 

He didn’t notice that there was someone else on the street who was all but bouncing as he walked. The other walker had his hands in his pockets to keep them warm, his eyes bright with excitement from the reviews he’d already heard about his show. He walked with his eyes on the sidewalk. He’d fallen once, tripping over an exposed root that had worked its way through the concrete, the broken cheekbone he’d received when he couldn’t break his fall in time, taught him to be careful. He may have taken to the night like a vampire, but he didn’t have vampire vision. 

“OOOOOPPPHHHH,” Brian grunted as he ran into the other walker. He reached and grabbed the guys’ arms before he fell. “Sorry I wasn’t watching,” Brian  began. Then he looked carefully into the eyes of the man he held. “Justin?” The name came rushing into his mind when he looked into startled blue eyes. 

“NO!” Justin pulled himself out of Brian’s grip and in an instant disappeared running into the night shadows leaving Brian staring into darkness, his heart pounding.