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10 December 2010 @ 07:08 am
FIC: A Thousand Feet Per Second II  
Title: A Thousand Feet Per Second
Fandom: Queer As Folk
Rating: M for depictions of violence
Category: Angst
Word Count: 750ish
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I any way affiliated with the characters, actors, or production company that were part of Queer As Folk. I am however the owner of the characters and places you do not recognize.


Crash of the silverware drawer, blank stare from best friend. She probably thinks I’m just being a twat about having to unload the dishwasher.

I wonder how people can’t tell. Sitting all around me at dinner, every significant person I know in New York, and no one can tell.

They can’t tell how much I want to take the cornware dish of ziti and throw it into the wall behind Elijah and Sean. To watch ceramic shatter and rain shards, see pasta sauce splash and stain. To laugh at the shocked faces. To leave people speechless for a change.

Movies and television lie. They make you think you can make some big angry speech and maybe throw a few things for punctuation, then walk away in a huff and leave someone stunned behind.

In reality, they follow and retort. Retort, retort, retort until they make you feel five inches tall and worse than you did before venting. Because generally, those people are the antagonist to your protagonist and they don’t care how you feel. They probably revel in how shitty they can make you feel because you give them that power.

I just want one good moment where the fucking people who are so oblivious to the anger and pain I’m living with, to see. To really fucking see it and not brush it off as a queen out. Want them to recognize that it’s there and that I’m dry drowning. Want them to be unable to rationalize or excuse the tears and shaking hands.

I would think my best friend would see me screaming out for help, begging her to see it. After all, she’s with me more than anyone on the planet given we’re roommates. But people all have their own shit.

At least when I was ignored in Pittsburgh, I knew he knew. Knew that Brian was just waiting for me to be able to say it. But what if I can’t? What if saying it is worse than drowning in the white noise of laughter and oxygen that seem to just stifle me? What if saying it doesn’t seem as big or important to other people? I don’t even understand it.

But I can understand that it’d be something to get thrown in my face. Something to get laughed at until its importance to me is banished to shame and embarrassment.

Rationally, I should know that none of them would ever do that. Rationally. But what is rationality right now when I’m thinking about how I wanted to stick the baguette down Rae’s throat to get her to stop laughing. How can they be laughing when I’m sitting here…laughing with them?

When did I start laughing with them? When did I become so damn good at faking everything? Essentially I am. Faking. Faking life. Just stepping forward, assessing and adapting myself to be what the situation wants. What they want.

What I want…is to be able to breathe without forcing the tingling burn in my nose to stop the tears from welling in my eyes. I want to be able to smile without gritting my teeth at the same time. I want to go back to when I wasn’t so good at faking emotions in my eyes. I’m not the wannabe actor of the group, that’s Maxxie’s deal.

It takes a moment to snap to the foreground and realize people are looking around curiously. I’m puzzled and then there’s a rap at the door.

“I’ll get it.” I say, any excuse to get away from them.

I’m out of dining room before anyone can agree or disagree, leaning against the hallway wall and breathing.






It’s not better, and I feel lightheaded and just want to sleep for the next three days, but it’s only another half an hour.

That’s how I keep time now. ‘It’s just another half an hour’ and then when that thirty minutes passes and I realize I’ve lied to myself, I rationalize once more: ‘just another fifteen minutes, it’s not that long’.

I open my eyes after opening the door, and the stinging in my nose can’t be prevented. I didn’t want him to come. It’s probably the last thing I wanted. I shouldn’t have ever called him ‘cause I don’t want to be the fucking headcase that needs a boyfriend (or ex, as the case may be) to fix him…but sometimes you just need someone to lean on.

“There’d better be a good fucking reason I’m in the Bronx, Sunshine.”

feeling: exhausted
hearing: hedley perfect
Toto_too514: fall sunsettoto_too514 on December 10th, 2010 01:42 pm (UTC)
Wow, again!
I just read your reply to my comment and was looking forward to reading more... didn't think it would be so soon!
I've loved everything you've ever written in this universe and this is no exception! Especially now that I am helping a friend deal w/ very similiar issues....
I's a truly remarkable piece of writing!
Yvonne Reidyvonnereid on December 10th, 2010 01:53 pm (UTC)
This is really great,can't wait to
Huge hugs x
Pam81: neve anim.pam81 on December 10th, 2010 03:44 pm (UTC)
Loved this part! Of course Brian came...
His Sunshine needs help, where would he be if not here? ;)
This was really beautiful, thanks!

tv_fan_2008: BJ 512-2tv_fan_2008 on December 10th, 2010 08:47 pm (UTC)
I am really liking this!! I have missed your writing so I hope you continue this story :)
lazy_8s: red t-shirtlazy_8s on December 10th, 2010 10:08 pm (UTC)

Very powerful! Justin is unravelling, while going through the motions of everyday life. And then, Brian appears. Can't wait for the next chapter.
armandyouidiot: J over shoulderarmandyouidiot on December 11th, 2010 11:42 am (UTC)
Great Brian line!
flequillitosflequillitos on December 13th, 2010 02:12 am (UTC)
Ohhhhhhh new fic!! Justin (as always xD) is in a bad place let's see if Brian can help ;)
Daphneduffy_60 on March 15th, 2011 09:03 am (UTC)
Hey, Girl!!

Just had a hankering, and reread this. I hope you're well. Haven't heard from you quite a bit.