Pairing: Brian and Justin
Word Count: 400 - quadruple drabble
Timeline: 108 - Justin and Brian alternating POVs
A/N: Written for the 'Weddings and Funerals' prompt at QAF Drabbles on Insane Journal
"Look at your mom, Justin."
Brian was the only one who could tell me what to do. I ceased the sullen staring at my hands in my lap and cast her a sidelong glance. Oozing kindness and love, my mother desperately wanted me back home.
The veins in my dad's neck bulged, exasperation teeming inside of him like fiery lava. The thought of Brian's cock inside me made him want to vomit.
I stood up slowly, my eyes connecting with Brian's when my mom told me to go to my room. He nodded for me to do as she'd said.
I collected my ward from St. James Academy at dismissal time and drove him out to the suburbs, having previously set up a meeting with Justin's parents to discuss his timely return. I just wasn't into permanent boarders.
Sitting quietly in the corner of the Taylors' den, I listened while they attempted to mend their fractured relationship with their son. They may have been trying to apply a tiny band-aid to a large gaping wound, but at least it was a start.
There was something about the way Justin's father glared at me that sent shivers up my spine.
"And one more thing, Justin," my father snarled, wishing Brian substantial bodily harm.
Gaping wounds require so much more than stopgap measures, but even carefully planned open-heart surgery couldn't have closed this one. I knew right then I could never live in my father's house again. Problem was, I didn't know where I could live.
"That's not love. That's hate." Brian spoke his mind, standing up for me when I didn't know what to do. "Justin," he called over his shoulder when he was halfway out the door. "You coming?"
My chivalrous knight in shining armor had rescued me once again.
Justin's mother knew she'd lost. He would have given anything to have made her happy, yet he followed me out the door.
I never intended for this to happen. I wanted to return their lost sheep to the fold, but not if it meant Justin had to deny who he is.
A quiet, reflective trip back to my loft prefaced the unconventional routine into which we soon fell. You know, the one where I alternate between parenting him and fucking his brains out. Just your average, run-of-the-mill existence.
Doesn't everyone live like this?