Amnesia!Brian! Previously posted hereabouts. Virtually no difference from that version except an extra paragraph or two at the beginning. This is just, you know, official. Damn you people for coercing me into writing another WIP.




Brian sat down slowly, like the stark white couch might back out from under him when he least expected it.

He used his left heel to take his right shoe off, used his toes to pry off his left shoe, and kicked them both to the side. The floor was cold against the balls of his feet, in sharp contrast to the warm hand still resting on his shoulder.

“Are you still feeling all right?” asked Mikey. Brian nodded wordlessly, still not willing to look at Mikey’s face. The voice was bad enough – the tone was pitched too deep, the words too enunciated. It made splitting pains go through Brian’s head.

Justin sat down beside him and offered him a bottle of water, a couple of pills cupped loosely in his other hand. He was wordless too, which made Brian feel better. A little.

Brian took the pills, and Mikey’s hand squeezed tight on his arm, trying to be comforting. “Do you need me here?” asked Mikey, “Cause you know I’ll stay. If there’s anything –“

“No,” said Brian. “No, but thanks, Mikey. Thank you.” There was an ache inside his gut that wanted Mikey’s arms around him, wanted him to never let go, but his mind was busy telling him all the things that were so very wrong with this picture, and – screaming, oh god, he couldn’t think.

Retrograde, could have been worse, a lot worse, they said. Their words had tumbled around in Brian’s head until they sounded like a song.

Brian was afraid to turn on the radio.

He was dimly aware that Mikey was talking to him, that Mikey was leaving, but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge him. Brian, for the first time in years, really wanted his mom. Or maybe Debbie. Was Debbie going to come over later? Brian couldn’t remember what they had said, and his chest seized for a moment.

“Hey,” said Justin, “Hey. You okay?” And then there were hands on Brian again, touching him, fingertips pressing against his cheeks and smoothing the hair back from his forehead.

Brian blinked his eyes open and Justin was sitting on the coffee table in front of him, still looking like shit. He smoothed the hair from Brian’s face again, and then pulled his hands back, sitting them awkwardly in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said softly, not even knowing exactly why, but Justin’s eyes snapped up to his with a ferocity that took him by surprise.

“Don’t say that!” Justin snapped. “Don’t fucking apologize.”

Brian gaped at him, and Justin deflated.

“Shit,” Justin said tiredly. “Now I have to apologize.”

“No, you don’t,” said Brian. “I don’t care. Really.”

“I’m sorry anyway,” Justin said, and let out a sudden laugh. “Fuck, look at us,” he said. “We make quite a pair.”

Brian shivered, and Justin handed him a blanket that had been sitting folded next to him on the coffee table.

“Thanks,” said Brian. “You can touch me, you know. I don’t mind.”

Something eased in Justin’s posture, but he just said “Of course you don’t mind. C’mon, you may not remember me at all, but I still have a great ass.”

“Yeah?” said Brian. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“You got it. I’ve got a great cock, too,” said Justin, and he didn’t let Brian respond before he shifted from the coffee table back to the couch, then hesitantly touched Brian’s arm.

“It’s stupid, sorry,” said Justin softly. Brian leaned back, his hunched shoulders popping slightly with the stretch. Justin kissed him on the temple and curled up against Brian’s side, placing one hand lightly on Brian’s thigh.

Brian sighed, scooted down a little and rested his head against Justin’s shoulder. “Better?” he asked.

There was a pause, then Justin said “Much. Much better. Thanks.”

“Tell me something,” Brian said.

Justin exhaled slowly, stirring Brian’s hair with his breath. “We already told you about Gus,” Justin said. “And your dad, and Vic. What else do you want to know?”

“Fuck. Anything. I don’t care.”

Justin chuckled. “You know, this is going to be temporary. They said just rest and take your pills, and you’ll probably get a lot of memories back any day now. Any minute.” It would be more reassuring if he sounded like he believed a word of it.

Brian nudged Justin’s jaw. “Anything,” he said again.

Justin kissed the top of his head. “Tell me what you want to know,” he whispered.

“Start with who you are,” said Brian.

“Michael told you who I am, Brian,” said Justin.

“He said, and I quote, ‘Be nice to him until you’re better, ‘cause he loves you more than any of us except me, and also my mom’ll rip your balls off if you don’t.’ A glowing recommendation, but not exactly confidence-inspiring.”

Justin gave a pained laugh and shrugged it off. “Yeah. You know, you sound pretty much the same now. Right after you woke up, you didn’t. Sound the same, I mean.”

“I didn’t?” Brian swallowed again, and turned his face into Justin’s heat. “Maybe I’m already getting my memory back.”

“Yeah,” Justin breathed. “Okay. Umm, let’s see. I’m an art student. I’m almost twenty-three. I work on a comic book with Michael. I live here, with you. We’ve – We met about five years ago. And - I love you.”

“Okay,” said Brian.

Justin gave him a searching look. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?” said Brian. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“I know, that’s why you asked me, so- why are you– fuck you.” Justin shoved him away and slid off the couch, stalking angrily over to the kitchen counter. “You should get some sleep, Brian.”

Brian crossed his arms and stared at his feet. Fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Hey? Umm, Justin?”

The clattering over by the counter halted abruptly. Pause. “Yeah?”

“Fuck. Can you come back, please?”

And Justin must be used to offering him immediate attention, because Brian was hardly done with his request before Justin was there. Justin gripped his elbow and pulled. “C’mon,” he said, “To bed with you.”

Brian winced and let himself be tugged up the steps to the glassed-off platform. Justin curled one arm around his back and urged him forward, bending in front of him for a second to pull the sheets back on the bed.

“You act like you’ve done this before,” Brian said, and Justin froze for a second, before snorting and helping Brian lay back on the mattress.

“Yeah, well,” said Justin. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” said Brian. “Wait. Yes.”

“Yeah?” said Justin. “What is it?”

Brian reached out for Justin’s hand and gave it a tug. “C’mere. Tell me more.”

“You’re exhausted,” said Justin. “I don’t think this is a good time. I can show you some pictures later, just rest.”

“I need to know,” said Brian.

Justin shook his head. “I don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

“Then c’mere and hold me?” Brian tried to keep the obviously-scared quaver from his voice, but was unsuccessful. Justin looked like he was about to break down at the sound.

“Okay,” said Justin, and instead of walking around to the other side of the bed, he just carefully climbed over Brian. He settled down with a thump at Brian’s back, and held him closely around the waist, one hand beginning to softly stroke Brian’s stomach through his T-shirt. Brian didn’t know who was getting more comfort out of this deal.

“My hands look different,” Brian said. “Do you know how weird that is? I don’t want to look in a mirror. Don’t want to know. God, Mikey looks so old, and his voice is different, and I just can’t stand it.”

“Shh,” Justin murmured into the nape of his neck.

Brian shifted uncomfortably and turned over, face-to-face with Justin, who blinked at him steadily. Brian touched the side of Justin’s face.

“I don’t remember you,” Brian said. “I don’t remember you, why do I want to keep touching you?”

“I don’t know,” said Justin. “Don’t stop.”