LOCKED OUT

"A Queer As Folk USA FanFic"

by Gaedhal

This is Chapter 60 of the "Queer Realities" series.

The narrators are Dylan Burke and Justin Taylor, featuring Brian Kinney.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Confrontations. Pittsburgh, April 2003.
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not profit.

"I been locked out,
I been locked in,
But I always seem to come back again.

When you're in that room
What do you do?
I know that I will have you in the end.

And the clouds they are crying on you,
And the birds are offering up their tunes.
In a shack as remote as a mansion,
You escape into a place where nothing moves.

And I been locked out,
And I know we're through,
But I can't begin to face up to the truth.

I wait so long for the walls to crack,
But I know that I will one day have you back...."

***

I hear Justin moving around the kitchen, getting ready to go to his Friday morning class. Some drawing studio that he can't blow off. I turn over. Shit. This sofa is killing my fucking back! I keep thinking of that huge bed only a few yards away.

That big, beautiful bed. And what's usually in it. Justin's ass.

"You getting up for class?"

Justin is standing over me, holding a coffee cup.

"I guess." I sit up.

"I left some coffee in the pot," he says. "Don't forget to clean up your mess before you go." Justin frowns. "You're leaving today -- right?"

I rub my eyes. The spot on my forehead where Nate clocked me still aches like a son of a bitch, even though it happened almost a week ago. "Listen, Just, where am I supposed to go? Give me the rest of the weekend, why don't you? I'll talk to the R.A. again. And... maybe my coach can find me a place. There are only a couple more weeks left in the semester. Have a heart, huh?"

But Justin's face is stony as he sets his now empty cup down on the coffee table. "Brian is coming home next week and I have to finish this semester on time so I can go on location with him. I can't have you around here anymore, Dylan. You have to get out!"

"Chill out, Just," I tell him. "I'll be out of here by Sunday. I promise."

I can see that he's beginning to waver. He's tired and he doesn't really want to fight with me. He slowly puts on his jacket. His ass is dragging and he hasn't even left the loft for the day. He has that studio class this morning and then he's supposed to meet Richard to try to finish his music video project.

I stand up and put my arms around him. I feel him stiffen, but he doesn't pull away. "There's no fucking way you can drive all the way to New York tonight. You'll be so beat that you'll run off the road!"

"I have to go now," he says in resignation. "You don't understand how important it is. Brian needs me to be there. And I made a promise to be there."

"What's more important, Just? What Brian wants -- or you? What you want? What you need?" He looks up at me and bites his bottom lip. "Why don't we talk about this tonight? We can order some food and you can get a good night's sleep. Then you can have a little more time to think things over. You can always drive up there on Saturday -- if you want to." I pause, watching the changing emotions on his face. "If Brian doesn't understand -- fuck him! If he cared about you, then it wouldn't always be about HIM all the time! Do you know what I'm saying?"

Justin takes a deep breath and nods. "I know what you're saying, Dylan. But you don't know the situation! I promised that I'd be there for Brian every weekend. Promised to be part of his recovery. But... you don't know how... how I haven't kept all my promises. Or how I've fucked things up."

"That's impossible, Just. You could never fuck up," I whisper. "Everything you do is perfect. And anyone who doesn't believe that doesn't deserve you."

Then I kiss him. And Justin kisses me back -- but only for a moment. He breaks away and pretends that it never happened. He picks up his bookbag and portfolio and heads for the door. "I don't know what time I'll be home, but I want you to pack up your stuff and get ready to go, Dylan. I mean it this time." He walks out of the loft without looking back.

Yes! This is so fucking sweet! He may be telling me to leave, but I know he really wants me to stay! I could feel it in his kiss. In his whole body. He only needs a little persuasion. And I'm the best there is when it come to persuasion! But I have to work fast. If Kinney's really getting out of the nut house next week then Justin has to be ready to kick the bastard to the curb. And I only have this weekend to work the famous Dylan Burke Magic!

I drink my coffee and eat some leftover pizza for breakfast, then head out to catch the bus for one of my classes. I only have one -- Economics -- on Friday. I hate taking the bus. I need a car. I have to have a fucking car! I know Justin has that trust fund thing that he draws a little money from. Most of his expenses are paid by Kinney -- for now. But when he shakes Kinney loose, he'll still have that trust fund. Kinney has nothing to do with that. It's more than enough for rent and living expenses, but is there enough for a car? I think so. I hope so.

Shit. I can hardly wait to get the fuck out of college and get on with my career. I'm a cinch to get signed by some team, and even in the Minors I'll make a ton more money than at any of the fucking part time jobs I've had to hold down to make ends meet. Then I'll get a good car. And not a stupid Jeep, either! Something fly. Something radical. And I'll buy Justin a car, too. I'll buy him whatever he wants. When I get some big bucks.

I decide to blow off the Econ class and head to the batting cages instead. It's more important that I build myself up and work on my swing. I'm playing in a summer league and I want to make a good showing. Coach says that I'm being scouted.

That's another reason why I don't want that dust-up with Nate, my fucking ex-roommate, to become a big deal. The scouts already know I'm a fag, but they don't care as long as I'm low key about it. There are more fags playing in the Majors than they like to admit, but if you're not swishing through the locker room then they don't give a fuck as long as you can help the team. And I'm the kind of hitter who can help a team. I know it and they know it.

I work out in the cages. It's a warm day and I'm feeling great. I'm feeling powerful. My swing is coming easy. I picture the ball sailing high and over the fucking fence! A couple of guys are watching me, so I show off a little. Yeah, I'm Dylan fucking Burke! Take a good look!

After the batting cages I head over to Liberty Avenue and get something to eat at the diner. That red-haired woman, Debbie, is working this afternoon and she flirts with me. She's a fucking loon and a busybody, but Justin used to work here and he likes her, so I turn on the charm. She's grinning at me and calling me 'honey' and 'baby,' and she brings me an extra lemon square, on the house. If you're hot and know how to work it, you can always get stuff for free.

I walk back to the loft. It's not that far from Liberty Avenue and walking feels good. I see a guy selling flowers. Some purple things and some daisies and shit. Idon't like flowers that much, but I know Justin thinks they're romantic, so I buy a bunch for him. He shouldn't start sneezing with these. Besides, I saw him take his allergy pills this morning, so it should be okay.

That gets me thinking about tonight. About me and Justinkicking back in the loft and relaxing. And hopefully doing more than that! I stop and buy a bottle of wine. Nothing too expensive or fancy, but the bottle looks nice. It's the thought that counts, right? And we can get as drunk on cheap wine as we can on the good stuff. I also have a stash of decent weed that I got from Alan. That'll do the trick, I bet. I'm going to have Justin in that big fucking bed of Kinney's at least once before we move our asses out of that loft. And tonight is the night.

I use my key and the codes Justin gave me to open the front door of the building. I also pick up the mail and look through it as I ride up in the elevator. There's a menu for a new Chinese restaurant in the neighborhood. Maybe I'll order dinner from there and charge it to Kinney. Justin keeps one of his VISA cards in the top drawer of the dresser in the bedroom and he charges stuff on it all the time. I've charged a few things on it myself, but no one has ever said anything about it. I think that woman who used to be Kinney's assistant at the ad agency just pays the bills and never asks any questions. I should take the card and get some better booze with it. But I better not. I don't want to press my luck.

Kinney has a lot of candles sitting around the loft and there are even more in the cupboards in the kitchen. They're those big candles that burn a long time and really smell up the place. Totally romantic, you know what I'm saying? I pull them out and set them around the living room, bedroom, and even the bathroom, and then I light them all. It looks fucking cool!

I turn out most of the other lights, except for the track lights, which I dim way down. When it gets darker, it'll be so sweet in here. I get out one of Kinney's crystal vases and put the flowers in it and set them on the coffee table. Then I open the bottle of wine and put out two glasses, just like in the movies. Smooth, Burke! Real smooth!

I think about Justin's pale skin. How he smells. How he tastes. How much I want him. I'm going to fuck him so hard in that big bed he's going to fucking scream! I go up and turn on the blue neon lights. That's the final touch. Those blue lights. That and the condoms and lube at the bedside. Everything is ready and waiting.

I go into the bathroom and take a shower. I'm all sweaty from batting practice. Then I change my clothes so I'll be ready for when Justin gets home.

I'm just slipping on my new tight blue tee shirt when I hear the loft door slide open. Justin is earlier than I expected. Maybe he and Richard really did finish that fucking video.

"Hey! You're early!" I call as I walk down the steps from the bedroom. "I thought you weren't coming home until later?" But then I stop and my mouth drops open.

Shit! It's Kinney. Standing right here in the loft!

"Where the hell is Justin?" he barks at me. I'm freaked out, but so is he. "And who the fuck are you?"

I swallow. I am so fucking busted! But I don't give a shit! I know what I want and I'm not going to just roll over and let him have Justin without a fight. So I stand up to him. Why not? Who the fuck is he? A two-bit actor and a drug addict! "I'm Dylan Burke, that's who! What are YOU doing here now? You aren't supposed to be here until next week!"

His face is turning red and he's mad. Fucking mad! But he's trying to keep a lid on his anger. "I'm Brian Kinney and this is my loft! I fucking live here! That's what I'm doing here! So what are YOU doing here?"

"I know who you are, Kinney," I tell him, trying to sound as contemptuous of him as I can. I can't let him know that he scares me. Who knows what he'll do? He's probably escaped from rehab and is high right now. "That's so funny, because I live here, too."

That stops him. "You... live here?" he says.

I'm not backing down. No fucking way! So I let him have it with both barrels! "Haven't you figured it out yet? After all this time? I never thought you were stupid, MISTER Kinney, but maybe you don't want to see what's right in front of your face! Who am I? I'm Justin's boyfriend, that's who I am! His REAL boyfriend! What do you have to say to that?"

"Jesus. What the fuck?" He breathes.

"Yeah," I counter. "What the fuck!"

He walks up to me. He's taller, but only a little. He stares into my face, but I stare right back. I can take him. He's got to be what? 35? Something like that. He's old. I can take him -- easy!

But he pushes by me. "Justin!" he calls, walking into the middle of the room and looking left and right. Then he spins around. "Where the fuck is he?"

"Not here," I say. "Not yet."

He looks at the coffee table. At the flowers. The wine. The candles. Then he looks at me again. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Nothing unusual," I shrug. "Friday night. We kick back. Have something to drink. Order some food. And then head for the bedroom! What do you think?"

He storms up to the bedroom and I follow him. I have a bunch ofcandles lit there. And the blue lights on. He takes that in. And the condoms and lube next to the bed.

"We always play safe," I smirk. What the fuck? If he's going to kick me out, then I'm going to get a little payback.

"I can't believe it," he says softy. "Justin is fucking you -- in my bed?"

"Correction," I reply. "I'm fucking Justin in your bed! And you should hear him moan when I have my big dick up his ass."

I think that Kinney's head is going to explode as he glares at me. "Shut up! You're a fucking liar!"

"You think that Justin saves his ass for you, don't you? Well, let me clue you in -- he doesn't! He's a real slut for a nice fat dick up his ass! And I'm not the only one who knows it! Ask around. Check the backroom of Babylon! That'll open your fucking eyes! You'll find out the truth. Live and learn, Kinney. Live and fucking learn."

He takes a step forward and I know he's going to hit me. So I brace for it. I'm ready for this fight. I only need for him to take the first shot.

But he doesn't. Instead he stops and then leans back, away from me. His face looks sick. "I know you're a liar. Because I know Justin. And I trust Justin."

That makes me laugh. "You don't know shit! You're up in rehab and you have no idea what Justin is doing! I'm the one who's been here with him this whole time -- not you!"

Kinney looks stunned. "You know that I've been in rehab?"

"Of course I know!" I tell him. "Justin told me. Wake up, Kinney! Everyone knows what you are. Everyone! You're a fucking junkie and an ex-whore!"

"And you're a fucking liar!" he spits back.

"Oh, yeah?" I say. "So I'm a liar, huh?" I catch sight of the flowers I bought for Justin sitting in the crystal vase on the coffee table. And I remember how Justin told me about the roses that Kinney sent him. The roses that Justin threw out because he claimed they made his allergies flare up. Those flowers are something no one else would know about except Justin and Kinney -- and me.

"I know that Justin goes up to see you at that rehab center," I continue. "That is, he goes when he has to! Otherwise, he's here with me. And I know all about your stupid 'romantic weekend' at that cabin. Yeah, Justin and I had a few laughs about that one! But hey -- he's got to keep the guy who's paying the bills happy, right? And he must have made you pretty fucking happy, because you sent him all those roses afterwards. Red roses. A ton of them! If I'm such a goddamn liar, then how would I know that? I know it because I was HERE -- with Justin!"

Bingo! Direct hit! I can see it on his face. He looks like someone just punched him in the gut. And I didn't even have to lay a finger on him!

"You... you were with Justin after that weekend?" he says, drawing a sharp breath.

"I was with him after that. And I was with him before that, too! You have no idea how long I've been fucking Justin! I know all about you, Kinney." I narrow my eyes at him. He's not going to live happily ever after with Just! No fucking way! And I'll make certain of it! "And another thing I bet you don't know. Justin took those fucking roses you sent him and tossed them into the garbage as soon as he got them! That's what he did with your roses! And if you don't believe me -- ask him!"

"Get out," says Kinney. His voice sounds flat. Emotionless. "Get the fuck out."

"I'm going," I say. "But let me get my stuff first."

He watches as I haul my duffle bag out of the closet and gather all my shit together. After the fight with Nate I went back and got my clothes, CDs, portable CD player, and everything else from the dorm room. Now I'll be doing the same thing in a different place. I'm out on my ass again. I'll have to call Alan and ask him if I can crash there. Ethan would let me stay with him in a heartbeat, but his place is a filthy rathole. I take my underwear out of the dresser drawer and my good shirts and pants out of the closet. And my weed. I can't forget that.

"You really have been living here," Kinney says as I go into the bathroom and retrieve my toothbrush and razor. "You've been living here. In my loft. With Justin."

"Duh!" I say. "What the fuck do you think I've been telling you?" I pick up my jacket and slip it on. The fucker! I HATE him! He's ruined everything! "I'll leave the wine. I hope you and Justin enjoy it. I hope you both have a nice romantic reunion!"

He shoulders open the metal door and I start to leave. But then he grabs me by the arm. His fucking grip is like iron. "The key. Give me your key. Because you're not coming back here."

I reach into my pocket and put the key in his outstretched hand. He stares at it for a moment and then he closes his fingers around it tightly, his eyes shut.

"Don't forget to change the codes," I remind him before I leave.

"Don't worry," he answers. "I'll change the codes. I'll change everything."

Continue on to Page 2 of "Locked Out".