Drool on his Face
by Fishboy

Disclaimer: No harm is intended to placebo or anyone associated with the band.
This story is pure fiction, simply a product of my fevered imaginings. I am not
making any money from this, or profiting from it in any way. All the original
characters are mine, and remain solely my property.

Pairing: Brian Molko/Original Character(s)

Rating: I don’t know. It has explicit sex, (m/m and m/f) and some language that
may not be suitable for your grandmother.

Summary: Brian falls for an investment banker, resulting in occasional sex and
odd moments of soul searching.

All comments can be sent to fishboy [dont_share_spit@h...]

A great big wet thank you to Imre Hugo who took time out to beta this, what you
are reading owes a lot to her! Any remaining mistakes can be blamed on me and
my spell checker.


drool on his face

Prologue

Brian Molko, rock slut, pop idol and the stuff of wet dreams everywhere, woke
up with drool on his face and a hangover so awful that he wished for death.
Perhaps in some dark, dank, and blessedly cool dungeon, he thought with the
longing that he usually reserved for really expensive make–up. He was just
about to raise his head and find who was lying next to him, snoring heavily,
when distressingly (for the delicate condition of his head) the phone rang.

He let it go hoping that whoever was calling would have the sense to realize
that he wasn’t going to drag his poor abused body to do… whatever it took to
stop it. He moaned in pain as the rings continued unabated.

“For god’s sake Bri answer the bloody thi! ng!” Stef’s voice sounded as anguished
as Brian felt. Well, that answered one question.
“Mmm…”
“Don’t ‘mmm’ me, pick it up!”
“Fine,” He stumbled off the sofa and scrabbled amongst the napkins, empty
bottles, and stray pieces of underwear (thankfully none of which was his) to
locate the source of his misery. The cackling, annoyingly pious side of his
personality reminded him that the phone wasn't the only source of his misery.
It could perhaps have been the litres of alcohol or the few dozen lines of coke
or…

At last he found the phone in the bowl of condoms on his bedside table. Having
ceased to wonder a long time ago about the relocation of objects when sloshed,
he calmly pulled it out scattering a few shiny plastic packets in every
direction. Hmm, he thought, no underpants on the living room floor and his
condom collection seemingly undisturbed… Will wonders never cease?
“Hello,” he mumbled.
“Brian! It’s four o’ clock in the afternoon!”
“Yes,” he replied expressionless. This, however, didn’t stop his mother in the
least. A woman used to only to hearing the sound of her own voice, she rabbited
on at length. He tuned out absent-mindedly, picking at his blue nail polish.
“… and your father and I would love to see you there.” His fingers froze mid-
scratch. What? She continued failing to notice his lack of response, “If you
want to bring someone—”, here her voice faltered, “—please let us know in
advance.” As usual the implication was he’d better not bring a man as a date.
His mouth pulled into a wry grin at his own use of the word ‘date’. He
hadn’t ‘dated’ anyone since— His mother interrupted his reverie.
“So, are you coming or not?”
“Um, maybe.”
“I didn! ’t ask for a ‘maybe’. I want to know if you will be attending.” Whenever
she sensed, however minutely, that things weren’t going her way, she slipped
back to what Brian called her public school, ‘head prefect’ voice.
“Yes, mother.”
“Don’t call me ‘mother’ it makes me feel really old.” She sounded friendly as
soon as she had got his consent.
“O.K.”
“Remember seven sharp, Christmas Eve.”
“Right.” He pushed the ‘end’ button, viciously terminating her mid-goodbye.
Brian closed his eyes. Every year he promised himself that he wouldn’t go to
his parents’ annual Christmas Eve party and every year he attended, coerced by
the twin emotions of guilt and anger. He sighed. At least it was two weeks
away.

He daintily stepped over the rubbish and knelt beside the sofa.
“Hey, Stef!” He poked the lanky bassist.
“Fuck off, you big-haired pansy!” He grumbled. Brian poked him again this time
in his stomach. “Oh, for fuck’s sake Brian, don’t you have anything better to
do?”
“Nope.” Stefan cracked open one bleary eye, then sighed. “I’m going to ask a
rhetorical question, which means you don’t get to answer me. What did I do to
deserve this?” Brian opened his mouth. “No, I said you can’t answer me Brian.”
His voice was resigned. Mumbling something incoherently about re-incarnation
and worms, Stef patted the seat next to him. “Come on, tell Aunty Stef all…”

Part 1

Two Weeks Later

“…just like the Bermuda triangle,” said Steve with a smirk, “…you swallow men,
women and stray fishing boats.” Brian winced.
“I’ve never even been near a fishing boat.”
“Remember the time when you and that girl, you know, the one! with the pink hair
and the dress that clashed horribly, went off to her houseboat?” Stef reminded.
“Oh. But that wasn’t a fishing boat.”
“Mere technicalities.” Steve waved his hand dismissively.
“But—”
“Face it, Bri you’re a slut.” Steve said with what was definitely a
sanctimonious note in his voice.
“As if you’ve never—”
“Not as often or as publicised as your little—”
“Boys. Listen to your mummy,” Stef soothed, “you are both as slutty as each
other.” He then ducked hurriedly as two cushions were thrown simultaneously at
his head. “Bri, don’t you have to be at your parents shindig tonight?”
“Yeah,” Brian sounded unhappy, “and I don’t know what to wear.” He glanced at
Stef hopefully. “I don’t suppose you want to come do you?”
“Oh, no. I went once. That was enough. I thought that I was going to get stoned
amongst the smoked salmon canapés and the mango panna cotta.”
“Steve?” He pleaded.
“I’ve a family dinner to go to as well.”
“Crap. Shit. Fuck. Blargh.” He slapped his forehead miserably.

Steve and Stef exchanged a glance and moved to comfort him. They knew that
their normally cheerful, brave, elfin band-mate was especially vulnerable when
it came to one thing—his family, in particular his father. They had heard bits
and pieces about Brian’s lonely childhood when the singer was drunk,
impassively detailing his father’s constant emotional abuse and his mother’s
dislike of Brian, mainly after he showed tendencies of not being a ‘normal’
boy.

“I’ll come if you want, Bri.” Stef offered.
“No. I have to do this by myself. I’m not eight years old and hiding under my
bed. I refuse to let my pa! rents tell me that I’ve disappointed them, that I’m
some sort of fucking deviant—” He stopped, eyes widening.
“Oh no, Bri. I don’t like that look.” Said Stef. Steve moaned. Brian smiled
evilly.
“If they think that I’m a ‘pervert’, then I’ll dress as such. I’m not going to
pretend for their sake that I’m something that I’m not.” Stef and Steve stared
at Brian, mouths open. Open defiance? As soon as his parents were even
mentioned in passing Brian folded like origami craft paper. “Now guys, help me
find something to wear.”

Part 2

Brian eyed his expertly made-up face in the mirror. Huge blue eyes, perfectly
shadowed with smoky silver, complexion perfectly peaches and cream, lips lush
with gloss. He smacked them experimentally and impulsively blew a kiss at his
reflection. Who knows maybe he’d pick up tonight. He laughed out loud startling
the cat who disdainfully started to lick his ass.
“Yeah and Fred Durst isn’t a fuckwit homophobe.”

The lobby was crowded. Milling about were people presumably part of the Molko
contingent. His parents usually hired the ballroom of the Sheridan Plaza Hotel
for their annual function, preferring to entertain on a huge scale once a year
instead of smaller gatherings during the year. This meant that a lot of people
of assorted background (although the only variations seemed to be the fact that
some were politicians instead of just people involved in the area of
international investment banking) turned up on Christmas Eve.

Brian in his tight black ‘stunt girl’ t-shirt and pink vinyl mini-skirt blended
in like anything fuchsia in an arrangement of black and white stately matrons
and portly gentlemen. He waylaid a passing waitress (who nearly dropped her
tray, copping a large eyeful of his outfit) and helped himself! to several
canapés and a glass or three of champagne. Having not sighted his parents in
the half an hour since he’d arrived, Brian seriously considered leaving. After
all, he’d shown up, and it wasn’t his fault that they hadn’t made an
appearance. Having made intimate acquaintances with the potted plants, (as no
one seemed to get up the courage to approach him) and just as he was turning
around to make a quick exit, his mother beamed at him from across the room.
Brian sighed. He’d obviously sinned a great deal in a previous life.

His bladder urgently reminded him that he’d drunk several glasses of champagne
so he heeded the call and, (after waving at his mother), made his way rather
dazedly to the lav. Having ascertained that the toilets were not hiding in the
cloakroom, reception or the hairdressing salon, he finally found them. By this
time he was seriously squirming with the effort. He slapped the door open and
cannoned into a body. They fell in a tangle of arms, legs and toilet door.
Having had the breath knocked out of him by the fall, Brian panted, winded.
“Nice to meet you too.” He has a nice voice, thought Brian, blankly gazing at
the man from the floor. He was attractive, if you liked them lithe, gorgeous
and auburn-haired and— straight. The man grabbed Brian’s arm and hauled him up
with ease.
“Uh, thanks.” Brian said haltingly.
“My pleasure.” Straight men should not have smiles like that, he thought
indignantly. What is the world coming to? The man gave him another heart
stopping smile and exited.

Brian gazed at his reflection silently cursing fate, his parents and random
acts of kindness. Like how the man’s hand had felt; warm, dry, fingers
caressing his— Oh, hell. Why was he doing this? It was strange and definitely
unlike his usual self. He was not taken to obsessing ! about how, for god’s sake,
a strangers hand felt at odd moments. Perhaps he’d had too much alcohol—Yep
that was right, champagne always went to his head with a vengeance. Adroitly
avoiding the disturbing topic, he brushed his hair back, applied more lippy and
was finally ready to face his parents.

Part 3

His mother waylaid him with an ease that betrayed years of long practice. He
blinked. If it was possible, her outfit was even more attention getting than
his. Her figure, still as slim as ever, was draped with a green shot silk dress
with silky black embroidered flowers. And it was cut low, very low. He had to
admit she looked good. Brian mused that genes for good bodies tended to run
true in his family.
“I’m so glad you came,” she gushed, visibly pleased that there didn’t seem to
be man hanging off him.
“Hello,” He kissed the air at the side of her face.
“I’ve got someone I want you meet. He’s one of your father’s colleagues, and
he’s so charming! Your father describes him in glowing terms and he’s so
wonderful!” What? It sounded as if his mother was setting him up with this man.
No, that couldn’t be true. He was obviously misinterpreting the situation.
“Right.” She dragged him off in his father’s direction.
“…the multimedia dot com companies seem to be lagging behind in recent
forecasts—” His father’s voice ground to a halt. He gestured to the red-haired
man by his side. “Fen, I’d like you to meet my son, Brian.”
“Uh, hi.” Brian froze. Fen’s alarmingly green eyes twinkled and his lips
twitched slightly. “Pleased to meet you Brian. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Shit, thought Brian, what have my parents been telling him? He moaned inwardly.
Each scenario that he conjured up seemed to be worse than the! last. “Brian?
Brian?” Fen’s voice was puzzled. Brian realized that he’d drifted off for a
moment. “Are you all right, do you need to sit down?” Blimey. He probably
thinks I’m stoned.
“I’m alright.” Yes, I’m fine, he thought. Thank you for making my head spin and
my hands shake.

His father smiled warily, seemingly puzzled by their exchange.
“Fen is one of the up and coming high fliers in the firm. We are so lucky that
you came to us.” His father sounded proud, as if it was some huge
accomplishment. He’s never been like that with me, thought Brian bitterly.
“It was either that or become a truck driver!” Everyone smiled politely at
Fen’s weak attempt at humor.
“So how are you Brian?” asked his mother in the silence that followed.
“Fine. The band’s doing really well. We’ve got a new single coming out this
week. We’re also planning to go on tour for most of next year.”
“Fen’s done wonders for the company, he totally changed the way that we manage
new accounts.” His father interjected. Brian felt his anger rise. He did not
appreciate his accomplishments being compared to those of the red-haired
upstart, and found to be lacking, by his own parents. Brian felt physically
sick. His parents were never going to change. They had wanted a little puppet
to go into investment banking or some such thing and they never let him forget
that he’d disappointed them. Brian decided that he really couldn’t take it
anymore. Perhaps it was time to make a final break from his parents.
“Mother, I’m not feeling too well at the moment. I had a really bad bout of flu
a couple of weeks ago, and I’m still a bit weak. I really think I should go
home…” He trailed off.
“You do look a bit peaked.” Fen came to his aid. “Do you! want me to drive you
home?”
Brian was sorely tempted. Then he noticed both his parents were glaring at him
accusingly. Brian reluctantly refused. After a quick goodbye, and a (hopefully
unnoticed) lingering glance in Fen’s direction, Brian left.

Part 4

He lay in his bed staring at the ceiling willing it to give up the secret of
life, the universe and everything. Unfortunately for him, the ceiling wasn’t
responding. Sleep also was eluding him with the wiliness of a record producer.
He flipped over burying his face into the pillow. Damn that man. How dare he
disturb his (already rather precariously balanced) peace of mind? No one should
have eyes so green, or hair that lustrously auburn. He probably dyes it,
thought Brian meanly. For fuck’s sake Molko, snap out of it! Why are you so
taken in by this guy? Why do you want to find out if his skin is as soft and
smooth as it looks? You’re sounding sexually frustrated. I’ll probably start
tearing the labels off bottles anytime, he mused. He sat up suddenly. That’s
it. I just need to go out there and get laid. Perhaps that’ll stop the
traitorous thoughts about Fen. I don’t even like the man, Brian whined
piteously to himself. And what kind of name is Fen, anyway?

Clad in a short black skirt, and a silky red top emblazoned with the
words ‘dancing queen’ (a present from Stef) he cut an impressive swathe through
the mostly Goth crowd. There was nothing like dressing differently from the
rest to get attention. You’re getting vain Molko, he chided himself. For some
reason he felt nervous. Unaccustomed to feeling uncertain he hurried towards
the bar.
“Could I have a Bloody Mary, please?” The bartender looked at him closely.
Brian could tell that she’d recognized him. Oh, well. It had to happen sooner
or later. She handed him his drink and smiled ! coyly. He grabbed the vodka and
headed towards the balcony. Fuck, he needed a smoke.

The first cigarette of the night was always the best. He inhaled deeply and
sighed as all the raw nerve endings smoothed themselves out. Thank God for
nicotine and alcohol. His life would be a lot more painful without those two
drugs. Well maybe more than those two, he admitted to himself. He remembered
the sweet cool rush of pleasure, the sheer forgetfulness that junk brought. He
shuddered. He’d come so close that he was sometimes surprised that people
couldn’t see the scars of experience. He felt that he needed physical signs on
his body to match the ones inside.

He noticed that there was a rather sweet looking girl eying him from the other
side of the balcony. She, unlike him, didn’t have either a drink or a fag with
her. Her studded collar encircled a pale throat, her black velvet and lace
concoction of a dress served to make her look unearthly. She looked like she
ought to be lying on sheets of satin, Brian thought with astonishment at
himself. He wasn’t taken to waxing poetical about people like this!

The DJ who was playing some horribly remixed version of ‘Bionic’ interrupted
his thoughts. The crowd on the dance floor seemed oblivious, bodies thrashing
in time. Brian shrugged, after all he was here to pick up, not listen to music.
Still it annoyed him to have his work abused like this! He felt a hand on his
arm.
“Do you want to dance?” Her voice matched her appearance. Sexy, but sweet at
the same time. He nodded and placed his hand in hers.

He woke up to the bittersweet strains of an obscure baroque piece that he
couldn’t identify. He had to admire her taste in music. She stirred against his
chest sensing that he was awake. He stroked her black hair tenderly. He slowly
disentangled himself from her and the quilt. He scrabb! led around her bedside
table, found a pen and scrap of paper.

‘You are a beautiful person. Thank you for listening to me last night. I hope
all goes well with your troubles and if you need to talk to someone, please
call me anytime.’

He scribbled his name and phone number on the bottom, swiftly got dressed and
quietly let himself out. Sitting in the taxi on his way home his thoughts
whirled around chasing each other’s tails. Her name had turned out to be Cally.
She was a design student who had recently broken up with her boyfriend of two
years. She, like him, had been looking for someone to alleviate the pain in the
only way that they both knew how; a night spent in a stranger’s embrace.
Through the night they had shared their secrets, Brian about how confused he
felt about Fen and his parents’ distaste of who he was as a person. She had
confided in him about her still very open wounds about her previous
relationship. She’d said one thing that had hit Brian hard; ‘…the empty space
beside you that shimmers with the presence of someone long gone…’ Brian had
realized that he’d never been with a person long enough to feel like that. He’d
always been a loner and circumstances had conspired to keep him that way.

Part 5

“…the stage was sinking.” Brian told Cally. It was true. Brian had never seen
so much mud in one place at the same time. It had been a miserable day to begin
with, he’d woken up with a hangover (not uncommon for him) and the fact that he
had a billion interviews to do that day didn’t help. Brian knew from previous
experience that feeling shit + Brian + interviews = yet another story that
followed the infamous footsteps of the “sex-crazed midget” article.
“You poor thing,” she sympathized.
“And I went on stage wearing a thin t-shirt and I fr! oze my arse off.”
She giggled. “Now that’s all your own fault for being so conceited.” Ever since
that night he’d slept with Cally he’d constantly thanked whatever gods looked
over itinerant rock stars and suicidal skydivers. He seriously hadn’t expected
her to call. After one shares intimate confidences like he’d done with her,
people react as if you’d instantly caught Black Death if you meet them again.
Now a few months later he didn’t know how he’d managed without her friendship.
And that’s all it was now, they’d both agreed that it would perhaps be for the
best.
“So how’s uni going?” He asked her curious. She’d mentioned several times
lately she wasn’t satisfied with her course.
“Uh, I don’t know. I sometimes think that it’s what I want to do for the rest
of my life and sometimes I just want to chuck it in cause it just seems like
too much.”
“Oh.” Brian couldn’t think of anything helpful to say. His uni days seemed to
be a long time ago, although unlike Cally he’d always known that he wanted to
do Theatre and Media. He tried to distract her.
“I don’t suppose you want to come to a party, do you?” He asked her brightly.
“Where?”
“It’s for the launch of the new single. One of those record company deals.”
“Food?”
“As many hors d’oeuvres as you can lay your greedy hands on.” She clapped her
hands.
“O.K.” Brian was astounded. Cally never wanted to attend any of these shindigs.
“So why do you want to come to this one when you’ve refused every single
invitation in the past?” She smiled warily looking uncertain as if she were
debating whether or not to tell him something.
“Spit it out, baby doll.” He coaxed.
“Steve’s broken up with that ! girl he was going out with hasn’t he?” She said
finally. He must have had an absurdly comical look on his face because she
burst into loud peals of laughter. He joined her as soon as he had recovered
from the shock.

Part 6

“Come on glamour puss we’re going to be late.” Steve called from the living
room.
“It’s takes time to get beautiful, you know.” Brian retorted.
“If you’re fishing for compliments— Holy Crap.” Steve and Stef both eyed Brian,
bemused expressions on their faces.
“I have two words for you two,” he pointed at Steve, “Stunned,” then and at
Stef,” Mullets.”
Brian was especially proud of today’s outfit: plain slightly flared, black
trousers and a white shirt and no make-up. Well, maybe a little. He preened.
“Do I look butch or what?” There was a knock on the door. “That would be
Cally.” He sauntered casually towards the door.
“Hey there love doll.” Brian pecked her cheek and then impulsively hugged her
tightly.
“Hey there yourself.” She smiled. “Hi, Stefan. Steve.” She nodded in their
direction and said, “Well then, lets blow this Popsicle joint or whatever.”


As Brian had promised the canapés were plentiful and so was the alcohol. After
the (thankfully short) business end of the launch, everyone had settled down to
what amounted to a big piss-up. Brian, never one to say no to free alcohol
(especially at the expense of the record company) imbibed greatly. As usual
this led to quite a few ruffled feathers.
“…and you, dear Georgie are very in touch with your arse. Especially as you’re
talkin’ out of it!” Cally managed to drag Brian away from a red-faced Boy
George.
“Oh, get fucked, you balding twat!” Boy George receded into the background as
! Cally pulled Brian behind her.
“I have to say this, you don’t hold back do you?” Cally was mortified.
“But he called me a talent less nasal hack!”
“You’re whining again, sweetie.”
“Humph.”
“Come on, lets go see what Stef and Steve are up to.”
“Prolly nothing. Stef’s horribly monogamous and Steve’s got morals.”
“Oh.” Cally was lost for words.
“Babes, I think I need to sit down for a little bit.” Cally looked at him with
concern. He was pallid and faintly greenish. She quickly led him to a chair and
he plopped down woozily.
“Hang on, I’ll go get someone.”
“Un huh.”

It seemed to Brian then that the world had somehow left him far behind. The
thick plastic bubble of isolation was even more impenetrable than ever. He slid
down and was lost in the carpet for hours. He absent-mindedly counted the
threads and admired the grainy texture. His fingers were crawling away and he
yelled after them but they scuttled away like cockroaches from the light.
Suddenly he was gathered up into strong arms. By this time he was so far gone
that it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to snuggle up into mint-
scented hair. Brian poked his tongue out and licked the clean skin of the neck
filling his vision.
“Mmm…” He murmured. Then as if smacked in the face with a brick, darkness
descended.

Part 7

“Oh, fuck.” Brian’s voice came out in a croak. Someone laughed. He tried to
crack his eyes open but was foiled as they seemed to be gummed together firmly.
I’m getting too old for this, he thought miserably. He finally managed to get
one eye open. The spasm of sunlight that sizzled across his field of vision was
enough to dissuade him from trying to do so again. The arm flung across his
chest began to stroke ! down his side, lightly tracing his ribs. “Hello,” he
ventured softly.
“Hello Brian.” There was definitely a smile in his voice.
“Fen.” Brain said blankly. He had no idea how the fuck he came to be lying next
to— Fen. The presumed straight (although he was less certain about it now,
feeling the erection pressed to his side.) Fen. In other words, his father’s
colleague, and his mother’s new crush. The last thing he remembered was
contemplating the texture of the carpet as Cally went to get Steve and
Stef. “Shit!” As if reading his thoughts Fen spoke,
“I told Cally and Steve that I’d take care of you.”
“Oh.” Brian thought about it for a moment. “Steve and Cally?” he asked.
“Yeah the couple that was looking for you.” Brian smiled. Well, it seemed that
Steve hadn’t been too distraught about breaking up with Alison.
“They let me go off with you, a total fucking stranger! With friends like mine
you don’t—”
“Calm down. I told them that I knew you and—” He stopped, “—they kind of
assumed that you were with me, as it were.”
“Oh. Am I?”
“I think I should be asking you that as you were pretty much unconscious last
night.” Fen started laughing at Brian’s expression. “No, I did not rape your
milk white body in the dark of the night.” Brian felt colour sting his cheeks.
Feeling embarrassed he got up and stretched.
“Do you mind if I have a shower?”
“To the left and it’s the second door to the right.”

Brian leaned his face into the warm spray. The aches and pains associated with
a big night out slowly eased away. He grabbed one of the bottles on the rack
next to him. It turned out to be a bottle of mint shampoo. He flipped the lid
open and sniffed the contents experimental! ly. Brian snapped back to the night
before and cringed. He’d nibbled on Fen’s neck without so much as a by your
leave. There was something about the guy that inspired him to do stupid things.
The shower door opened and Fen stepped in. Brian’s open mouth gathered water.
Fen slowly raised his arms and pulled Brian into them. The kiss when it
happened was soft, slow and sensual. Their lips dragged wetly against one
another’s, their bodies mimicking the action; pressing into each other as if
they wanted to step into each other’s skin.
“Have I told you how much I love the scent of mint?” asked Brian.

Brian stared fixedly at the painting on the bedroom wall facing the futon as
Fen cupped his balls, his mouth doing something incredibly clever. He moaned as
Fen took his mouth away and looked at the picture himself. The girl in the
painting was wearing a velvety red dress with black fur at the collar and
edging at the sleeves and hem. The bell of the dress flared out massively at
the waist. In one hand she grasped a slim folded umbrella.
“Georges Lepape, the cover of Vogue back in 1916.”
“Right.” Brian sounded breathless even to himself.
“Oh, where was I?” Fen asked innocently. Brian moaned, as he felt a jolt of
pleasure as Fen’s tongue slowly licked a snail trail of saliva from the bottom
to the top of his cock. He pursed his lips and blew making Brain gasp at the
sudden coolness on his hot flesh.

Brian, sick of being teased, decided that Fen could do with a dose of his own
medicine. He wet his lips and bit Fen’s neck sharply. Fen hissed and pinned
Brian’s arms over his head. With Fen’s chest temptingly close to his eager
mouth, Brian raised himself up and placed a string of butterfly kisses on the
pale skin. Gratifyingly Fen’s breathing turned harsh at this simple gesture.
Fen released! his arms and Brian took full advantage of it by switching their
positions so that he was on top. He rubbed his slender body against Fen’s
larger one, his skin so sensitised he wanted to cry out in pain. It’d been so
long since he’d had sex without the blurring and numbing influence of drugs or
alcohol that he’d forgotten what it was like. It was as if he was somehow a
virgin again. He couldn’t explain it but— his thoughts were lost in the haze of
pleasure that hit his stomach and dripped internally to his genitals as Fen’s
hand grasped him firmly; yet his fingers were gentle as he moved his foreskin
up and down his shaft. Brian’s mind dissolved into mush the consistency of
porridge.

As soon as he’d recovered from Fen’s assault on his senses he then followed
Fen’s sterling example by placing his mouth where Fen wanted it most. Fen’s
fingers slowly intertwined themselves into raven strands of Brian’s hair, and
he moaned softly, encouraging Brian to move faster. A short while later, he
came into Brian’s mouth sighing softly. They cuddled up next to each other,
soon fast asleep despite the sun streaming through the open blinds.


Part 8

Leaving Fen sleeping peacefully on the futon Brian set out to explore Fen’s
flat. As he’d already observed from his trip to the bathroom, Fen’s taste
tended to veer toward the minimalist. It was aesthetically pleasing but
slightly cold. Fen’s bedroom, for example, held his futon placed on a tatami, a
bedside table, again with a designer edge, the Vogue picture and a rather
violently crimson-colored rug. This theme was carried out throughout the entire
flat; the only thing that differed from a picture-perfect decorator catalogue
was the profusion of books that littered odd corners. He had entire walls with
in-built bookcases filled to bursting. It ! showed that he had a clean, almost
too masculine taste in interior decoration and an esoteric taste in reading
material.

Brian found a copy of the Bhagavad-Gita to the latest Poppy Z Brite bestseller.
It all left him a bit puzzled. After all, what did he know about Fen (besides
that fact the he was an amazing kisser?). Nothing, that’s what. Brian asked
himself the question that he’d been avoiding all morning. What did he feel
about Fen? They’d had sex but that meant nothing these days. If he’d been born
in his grandmother’s era he’d probably have been married off to Fen by the
afternoon! The thought sobered him up. What were his parents going to think?
Did he need to tell them? After struggling with his identity he didn’t want to
go back to hiding stuff again. That was very much against his nature.

Brian had just made himself comfortable on the couch in the sitting room with a
copy Angela’s Ashes when Fen chose to make an appearance.
“Hello there lovely.” Fen bent down over Brian and nibbled gently on his ear.
“Hello there yourself.”
“What’s the matter? You look pensive.”
“I don’t know. My guts are churning and that’s not a good sign.” Fen plopped
himself down on the couch beside Brian. He pulled him close, stroking his hair
soothingly.
“For fuck’s sake Fen I’m not a bloody dog.” Brian pulled away. Fen seemed
unperturbed.
“Tell me what’s wrong please Brian. I don’t like seeing guys I’ve just fucked
looking like their pet goldfish was found belly-up in the toilet bowl.” Brian
smiled wearily.
“It’s my parents,” he said finally.
“I somehow thought it would be.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Yep.”
“Well, what am I going to do with them?”
”Besides throwing them of! f the nearest cliff you mean?” Brian laughed.
“I thought—”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Fen.”
“Mmm?”
“I don’t—”
“What?”
“—know anything about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Ask away.”
“Is Fen your proper name?”
“Fenwick Van Horne.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you interested in?”
“Reading, as you can probably tell, music, all sorts of stuff.”
“What sort of music?”
“Placebo, NIN, Opera, The Magnetic Fields, Tchaikovsky… I’m afraid it’s a bit
eclectic.”
“You like Placebo?” Brian went straight to the point.
“Mmm. I nearly died when I met you that first day in the toilets. It just
hadn’t clicked that you’re parents were that Mr and Mrs Molko.”
“You hid it pretty well.”
“I didn’t want to come across like just another obsessive fan.”
“Are you?”
“Well I admire your talent but now that I know the person behind and you’re
just, well, you.”
“Oh. Me too.”
“What?”
“Nearly passed out ‘cause there you were this incredibly attractive guy with
the naughtiest smile I’d ever seen and I’d managed to look like a complete
dimwit. And my parents were there watching from the sidelines.”
“I didn’t think you were a dimwit.”
“I was—am still also having these jealousy issues. All my life I’ve tried hard
to please my parents and there you were, perfect golden boy and—frankly I felt
a bit left out.”
“Oh. I don’t know what to say. Come here.” Brian leaned towards Fen, nestling
against his chest. He patted and stroked and this time in! stead of pulling away
Brian enjoyed feeling loved and protected.
“This is lovely.”
“Mmm.”
“Are you out at work?” Finally Brian got up the courage to ask.
“Yes.”
“But my parents—“
“Only see what they want to see.” Fen finished for him.
“So if people found out about us, and they are bound to, as my life seems to be
riveting reading over breakfast to many people… Can you deal with that?”
“Yes,” Fen said simply. Relieved Brian sank back into Fen’s chest.

Part 9

Getting dressed for a photo shoot for Melody Maker, a few weeks later, Brian
couldn’t help but think about Fen. If he wasn’t careful, he thought, he could
begin to sound like a teenage girl about her first boyfriend. After that first
day with Fen he’d gone straight home and called Stef. He hadn’t been able to
wait to tell the news to people. The others, knowing him intimately as they
did, took it with a grain - no, a large boulder - of salt. They’d been
sceptical at first, after all the guy was a ‘glorified accountant’ as Steve was
fond of saying. Sooner or later the disparity between their lifestyles would
cause conflict. At least, that was how it was meant to go. So far, it hadn’t
happened. Brian was deliriously happy and it showed. Fen, not being used to
having an, ahem, demanding boyfriend, spent most of his time bemoaning the fact
that he was becoming a wreck. Brian on the other hand bounced around, shit-
eating smile on his face and, much to Fen’s displeasure, not showing the
slightest sign of his nightly excesses.

“-and he was like, what the fuck is that?!!” Brian giggled.
“I hate to say this, but Fen sounds awfully straight. No offence intended,
Steve.” Stef sounded amused.
“None taken bean-pole fag.”
“I mean w! hat kind of gay man in this day and age gets shocked by the sight of a
dildo for Christ sakes?” Stef continued, ignoring Steve’s sally. “Which one did
you pull out anyway, Maude or Beth?”
“Maude, silly.” Stef closed his eyes. “Didn’t it occur to you that he might be
a little offended. I mean the thing is-”
“Huh?” Asked Steve, eyes questioning.
“Never you mind baby doll.”
“Briannnnn…” whined Steve. Brian was saved by the fact that the photographer
was ready for them.

“Peter!” Brian greeted the photographer. A dark-haired man looked up from
adjusting his equipment.
“Bri!” Brian rushed over and hugged him. He was about to peck him on the cheek
but was stopped by Peter’s quick evasion.
“You’ll smudge your lipstick and we wouldn’t want that would we?” he teased.
“I could go for a more Robert Smith look, I suppose.”
“Nope. It won’t work,” said Steve promptly.
“And why not, dare I ask?” questioned Peter.
“You’re far too pretty.”
“There is that.” Brian tossed his hair and blew a kiss. Peter looked on in
amusement then asked of Stef and Steve, “How do you put up with him? I think
it’d be hard fitting his head through the door sometimes…” Stef and Steve
nodded sagely at Peter’s observation. Finally they settled down to business,
Stef looking stiff, Brian posing unashamedly and Steve grinning to himself in
the background. After they’d finished, Peter caught up with Brian just as he
was about to leave.
“Bri! Wait up!” Brian turned around at the sound of Peter’s voice.
“Yeah?”
“Look. I’ve got something I’ve got to tell you, are you doing anything
tomorrow?” Brian thought quickly. He and Fen had wanted to go to a play bu! t-
“No.”
“Meet you at the Hacienda at seven?”
“Fine.”
“Take care Brian.” Was it just him or was there something indefinably stressed
in that statement?
“See you later Peter.”

Later that evening, sitting with Cally in her bedroom, Brian puzzled over
Peter’s invitation. They’d fucked years ago when Brian was still firmly in
his ‘slut incarnate’ phase. For some reason they’d remained if not friends then
acquaintances since. What had prompted him to ask Brian out for drinks? It
wasn’t as if, after all these years, he wanted to resume their relationship…
“I might as well turn it off, you’re not paying any attention.” Cally sounded
slightly hurt.
“Ummm….”
“I thought so.” She flipped over from her previous position and turned to face
him.
“What’s eating you?” She asked knowing it was useless to ask him indirect
questions.
“Umm…”
“What?”
“Remember that guy that I was telling you about, Peter the photographer that
sometimes freelances for Melody Maker?”
“Big dick, pretty face?”
“Yep. Well, he asked me out for drinks tomorrow and I don’t know what he
wants…”
“There’s no use stressing. You’ll just have to wait till tomorrow to find out.”
“Mmm. You’re right.” That’s what he enjoyed about Cally’s company. She was
unflinchingly honest and not someone taken to playing verbal tennis. “I meant
to ask you before-“ He paused for dramatic effect, “-would you like to play the
lead part in the ‘Slave to the Wage’ video?” He got the reaction he wanted. She
leapt off the bed and screeched,
“Would I?!!!” while hugging him at the same time.

Part 10

Brian lit up fo! r the fifth time since he’d arrived at the Hacienda. He inhaled
deeply and swallowed it down with more Bloody Mary. What more could someone
want? Oh wait, besides regular sex? He smiled impishly. The gay couple sitting
across from him gave him a significant look. Brian pretended not to notice and
sipped his drink leisurely. Bloody swingers, I thought they had gone out with
the seventies…
“Sweetie!” Peter grinned from somewhere above him.
“Sit down for fuck’s sake before my neck snaps! I don’t know… Between you and
Stefan I’m beginning to develop a permanent crick in my neck.” Peter sat down
next to him in the booth.
“Ha! That’ll be the day. From what I’ve heard you spent all day looking up at
guys—” Peter dodged most of the sugar thrown his way.
“Why’d you pick this tacky place anyway?” Brian said gesturing at the
surroundings.
“I remember it from a year ago, I think they’ve come down slightly in the world
since then...”
“Yeah, not everyone’s a sweater queen these days.” This time it was Brian’s
turn to flinch as another packet of sugar was used as mini missiles. “So…”
“So… I’ve got something important that I need to say to you—” Peter seemed to
be struggling for words, “—I’m HIV positive. Found out a couple of days ago.”
“Oh, fuck.” Brian’s reply was inadequate to his own ears.
“Exactly. Too much fucking and not enough care.” Brian closed his eyes. The
images flickering across his brain refused to stop. Himself and Peter. Peter
with Shane/Reid/Danny… Himself with countless others, often too drug fucked to
care if the guy fucking him had a condom on or not. Having unprotected sex,
blithely thinking that it’d never happen to him. In short, extreme stupidity.
Bri! an expelled a large breath.
“Are you O.K?”
“As well as can be considering that I’ve got a disease with a 100% fatality
rate.”
“Life’s also got a 100% fatality rate.”
“Don’t give me platitudes, Brian. I’ve listened to them too many times in the
last two days.”
“Sorry.”
“Look I don’t mean to snap at you but I’m not feeling the best right now…”
“Yeah.”
“I just wanted to let you know, that’s all.” Peter placed a kiss on Brian’s
forehead. “I’ve got to go, I’ll see you later, O.K?”
“Yeah.”

Part 11

Brian sat on the edge of his bed, hands against his throbbing temples. His mind
went over and over again, the memory forever looping, “I’m HIV positive…” His
fingers were cold, his breathing ragged. The sound that emerged from his throat
was between a moan and a sigh. He sounded like an animal caught in a steel
trap. His fists clenched. He felt like hitting something. Anything. He flopped
back onto the bed curling into himself. I deserve this, he thought; I’ve caused
so much hurt to others and now it’s all come back to me threefold. His body
shook with realization, fine trembling beginning in his stomach and spreading
outwards with every breath that he took.


He lay there body stiff, mind at last muzzy with exhaustion for the hours that
followed. He had no idea what time it was, or when he’d last eaten when the
doorbell rang. He threw the covers off with irrational rage and stormed to the
front door. He was so not in the mood to deal with anyone else’s petty problems
today. He pulled the door open with such force that it rebounded off the back
wall and smacked back into him.

“Brian. Shit. Are you all right?” Fen asked concerned, smoothly picking the!
smaller man off the floor where he lay in a crumpled heap.

“Yeah.” Brian shook his head dazedly. “How come you’re always hauling me off
the floor?” He asked no one in particular. Fen answered him anyway.

“It’s a curse for you but definitely a blessing for me as I get to place my
hands on your delectable body.” Fen gave Brian a comically lecherous look.

“Hmm.” Brian couldn’t help but smile at Fen.

“Seriously though, you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Brian said wryly, “you sure know how to compliment a guy.”

“That’s me!” Fen grinned happily. “Are we still going out to lunch?” Brian
thought of a way that he could possibly refuse. But he didn’t have the heart to
wipe the hopeful smile off Fen’s face. I’ve seen wet kittens that have looked
less pathetic, reflected Brian, as Fen’s face fell at his continued silence.

“Yeah. Let me get changed.” He gave in and gestured Fen inside.

Fen watched intently as Brian dressed, eyes devouring every step that Brian
took, every breath. The look worried Brian, Fen was getting too close, too
fast. Face it Molko, it’s just your anti-commitment tendencies coming to the
fore but now mixed with a healthy dose of paranoia. There was nothing like
impending doom staring you in the face to inspire thoughts about how much you
don’t like the idea of being the centre of someone’s fucking life. His face
must have expressed some of his thoughts as Fen gave him an odd look but wisely
chose to say nothing. At the moment a wrong word, no-- a wrong look could send
him over the brink. He rubbed some ivory foundation into his skin with more
force than absolutely necessary observing Fen’s reflection in the mirror. No
matter how much Fen appeared to be in a happy go lucky mood, Brian knew! him
well enough to realize it was an act. As a former thespian (albeit a not very
successful one) he admired Fen’s skill at pretence but as his lover it gave him
a vague sense of discomfort that Fen had to resort to such measures. Am I that
much of a moody bugger? All this, he realized warily a moment later, was just
to distract himself from the issue foremost on his mind; the possibility of—[H]
he couldn’t even admit it to himself. What if—as Stef had once told him in a
moment of drunken clarity: AIDS was something that was a horrendous reality to
most older gay men but equivalent to the bogeyman to those who were younger.
They’d grown up with it so that the threat of HIV had become, well, passé. Well
Molko, he thought sadly, It’s become your reality now. How do you feel?

He surfaced from his grim thoughts as Fen’s lips pressed into his neck. Brian
melted onto Fen like toffee. The feel of Fen’s body was so comforting that he
forgot for a split second the problem. He broke away pushing Fen away so
violently that he fell back on Brian’s bed.
“What the—”
“I’m sorry Fen. I’m not in the mood.” His voice cracked in the middle of the
sentence.
“Right.” Fen’s tone was enough to freeze even a sales assistant at fifty paces.
“I—” Brian attempted.
“I don’t want to hear it. If you don’t want to go out well, I’m not going to
force you.” Brian realized that Fen thought that he didn’t want to spend time
with him. But how to explain it? He couldn’t do what Peter had done to him the
night before. The bald statement that hung in the air; an evil poisonous blip
on the radar. The disturbance that expanded in cumulative circles until the
whole surface of reality was smothered by the flaw. Do I even want to tell him?
It’s not as if Fen does! n’t realize the possibility, every gay man takes his
life into his own hands as soon as he starts fucking. The risks are well
documented. The other side reminded him rationally of Stef’s comment. Yes,
people realize but they don’t necessarily— Fen rose off the bed and turned
towards the door. Brian grasped his sleeve but Fen shook it off, every line of
his body seething with hurt and anger.

“Fen! It’s not that. I just don’t feel too brilliant.” Fen stopped but didn’t
turn around.

“You probably got pissed last night just like you do every night. You shoved
enough shit up your nose and veins so that oblivion was yours at least in the
short term. You probably fucked some stranger because you felt like it. You
probably regretted it later but it doesn’t matter does it? You did it anyway.
You’re Brian Molko.” The last words Fen spat out with such rage that Brian
stepped back against the dresser.

“I—”

“I. ‘I’ is your problem Brian. The fact is you don’t give a shit about a person
unless they’ve got their dick up your arse or they’ve got enough drugs.” Fen
turned around so that Brian could see his face. His green eyes were clouded
with something akin to desolation; the sheer emptiness made Brian’s heart
crack, the shards embedding themselves into his psyche.

“I didn’t—“

“Even if it wasn’t last night. You’ve done it before. You can’t deny that.”
Brian couldn’t. “I’m not like every other patsy that you’ve fucked and left. I
do have the odd brain cell to rub together. I didn’t want to confront you with
it, but you made it really hard. To tell you the truth I don’t even care, I
just wish that you’d respected my intelligence if not my feelings by telling me
yourself.&! #148; Brian wished that he were stranded in the outer reaches of Siberia
without a coat. Make that Neptune, he thought as Fen’s eyes continued to bore
into him, listing his transgressions and tallying them up. Hangman. The noose
was firmly around his throat, choking him with his own infidelities.

“Fen—”

“Goodbye, Brian.”


Part 12


Brian prodded the innocent prawn lying wantonly on the bed of wild rice. Fuck
Molko, you’re losing it if you are personifying a bloody shrimp. He gazed
forlornly at his plate.

“Dad why does Aunty Bri get to play with his food and I don’t?” Steve’s
daughter Annabelle asked Steve innocently.

“Because you’re a lot more mature than he is, darling.” Brian shot Steve a look
seething with venom. The evening had started out badly, with Brian picking a
fight with Steve about Cally. As Cally’s relationship with Steve had blossomed
(to the point where Annabelle had become a permanent fixture at Cally’s flat)
she had consequently been spending less time with Brian. Having his friend
taken away from him so blatantly by Steve at the point in his life when he
needed it most, had offended Brian terribly. Steve had argued that since Cally
was Brian’s friend that perhaps he should talk to her about his concerns. This
had made him even angrier. Wasn’t it enough that he’d broken up with a nice guy
and the possibility that he might keel over at any second— Damn, he thought, my
life is fucked beyond even the bare chance of redemption.


“Bloody hell, Brian. Make a least an attempt will you?” It seemed that his
wallowing bothered even Stef. The normally ultra-cool bassist was on the verge
of exploding. Brian felt like saying to them all, ‘Look get off my back, I
might be dying for Christ sakes!’ He hadn’t ! had the guts to tell the others of
Peter’s confession yet. The knowledge was slowly eroding away at his
friendships if this night was anything to go by…


The restaurant they were at for Cally’s birthday went for the classy
understated look. Brian was thankful for this, as the dark circles under his
eyes weren’t so obvious. And it’s cool enough so people don’t think it’s
strange that I’m wearing a long sleeved shirt-- He reflexively tugged down the
sleeves. Cally shot him a perplexed look that slowly turned into comprehension.
Brian knew what it meant. She was tallying up all the obvious signs and coming
up with the right answer. Shit. I really shouldn’t have intelligent friends, he
thought. But then again I’ve never been good at hiding things from people
around me. For all his training as an actor it was humiliating to be such an
open book—

“Aunty Bri? You look funny.” Annabelle leapt off her chair and squirmed onto
his lap. Her tiny starfish shaped hand touched his cheek cautiously. “When I
feel sick dad always lets me have a biscuit and tells me a story.” Brian stared
at the little girl. He felt the lump in his throat grow larger, the tears
welling up, but he swallowed them down forcefully. There was no way that he was
going to howl in a crowded restaurant. There would probably be someone here
with a camera to take a picture that would be spread on the cover of Spin in a
week: ‘Brian Molko’s Disintegration’ witnessed by all and sundry…

“I’m fine sweetheart. I probably do need an extra biscuit before I go to bed
tonight.” Cally’s expression said, ‘and that’s not all you’re going to be
taking tonight.’ He shrugged his shoulders at Cally’s unspoken accusation. He
remembered the night when he told her what had happened to him before! . It was
why she looked so upset now…

Part 13

Cally and Brian had removed themselves from the confines of the club as soon as
the DJ from hell (or perhaps from the Dean Martin ‘That’s Amore’ school of
music) had put on Kylie and then The Spice Girls in quick succession. Evidently
the others in the club had also felt slighted as, in the rush to escape,
several black velvet dresses had gotten trampled in the stampede. They’d
wandered around that first night, Brian’s arm around Cally’s shoulders, hers
clasped firmly around his black clad waist. Pretending to be young lovers, a
heady sense of well being permeating everything that they touched, including
each other. The night had been cold and clear, evidenced by the fact that their
breath trailed behind them, foggy strands of conversation that disappeared like
will o’ the wisps.


They’d been the focal point of several eyes as they’d strolled, appearing to
all the world like two beautiful women; their attention disappointingly on each
other. They’d struck a few conscious poses, Brian swooping in for a kiss
underneath a flame colored tree shedding glinting leaves even in the darkness,
Cally trailing a red-tipped finger languidly across Brian’s cold pale cheek.
They’d known that this night was theirs, a lovely moment forever trapped in the
amber of memory. Finally they’d ended up in a deserted park in the middle of
the city, a lonely patch of nature in the middle of the ice-cold, grey blind
skyscrapers without souls.


“He said leaving me was the only way that he could survive because he liked me
too much. So he left me. Just like that. I just don’t get guys.” Cally trailed
off remembering that she was talking to one of the said guys. Brian replied,

“That’s all right. I don’t get guys. Of either sex.
! 48; Cally laughed at Brian’s
wry statement. Impulsively as he’d done most things that night, he leaned over
capturing Cally’s mouth with his. As was his habit, he left his eyes open,
greedily taking in Cally’s beautiful face in close-up so that he could see the
tiny imperfections of her skin. Her eyes opened and they broke away laughing.
For some reason Brian felt like a guilty kid with Cally. She reminded him of
days of his misspent youth, getting stoned in toilets, fucking girls with his
parents in the next room… In a way, it was nice, lapsing back into old habits;
fag in one hand, a beautiful woman on the other.

They kissed again, Brian’s hands stroking the velvet of Cally’s dress, feeling
the slight drag of the material against his fingers, his mouth mimicking the
same motions against Cally’s neck. That’s what he loved about women, the
softness of skin, the delicacy of the sounds they made when aroused. He
loosened the ribbons that laced the front of Cally’s dress, the tops of her
breast emerged, firm and milk white. His lipstick left traces, pink blushes of
colour against her skin. He sucked gently on one hardened pink nipples, Cally’s
in drawn breath compelling him to lavish more attention on them. A sharp chill
wind blew through the trees, the rustle of leaves following. Brian led her to a
bench, laying her down gently. Their bodies meshed, the resulting tangle worthy
of any abstract expressionist’s attention.

Brian’s lips found the place where Cally wanted it most, his tongue flicking
against her clit, relentlessly teasing her. Her thighs trembled, her fingers
tightening their hold on her handbag. Brian thrust his tongue into her, the
salty sweet taste, and the scent of suffused girl-flesh almost more than he
could bear. He took his mouth away, rising so that he could kiss her again. His
fingers too! k the place of his mouth, cold hard nubs of flesh plunged into the
velvet hotness inside. He kept up an inexorable rhythm, his fingers moving
sometimes fast, sometimes maddeningly slow so that Cally’s lust-distorted cries
begged him for release. She came suddenly, the flesh around his fingers
clenching violently. She sighed and collapsed into a boneless heap against him.
Brian grinned at her contented statement so like his cats after a big meal.
Echoing his thoughts perfectly, she made a purring noise, so that Brian’s smile
turned into laughter.


Cally burrowed into the hollow of Brian’s shoulder. Her mind still hummed with
the aftermath of her orgasm, leaving little room for her thoughts to ponder her
wanton actions. She’d been with Colin for two years and she’d never—lost
herself so completely to the emotions aroused by sex. This guy had obviously
been around the block a few times, the sometimes almost-mechanically-perfect
nature of his actions were clues enough. She made another soft sound of
contentment.
“Happy now?” he asked.
“Mmm. You’re awfully good.”
“Yes, it’s a talent isn’t it?” She bopped him gently on the nose.
“You big goof.”
“Most of the time it’s poof…” Brian smirked at his own lame joke.
“Oh. God. Another bloody bisexual.” She rolled her eyes.
“You weren’t complaining before.” Brian said, rather hurt by her comment.
“You could say I’m a little battle-scarred… I’ve been out with bisexuals before
and frankly--” she paused, her gaze fixed on him, “they as a species leave a
lot to be desired when it comes to morals, faithfulness and judgement.”
“Hey, you can’t simply lump us all together in one basket,” Brian said quickly.
“It may be different with you but in my experience ! in the long run they
inevitably end up fucking anything that moves whether they are in a monogamous
relationship or not…” Cally unsuccessfully fought back memories but they
projected themselves forcefully on the screen of her mind, her two ex-
boyfriends together and one of her friends telling her that they’d been fucking
each other while both of them had ostensibly been with her.
“Cally. What’s wrong?” Brian’s voice was concerned.
“I’m sorry, Brian. I know I shouldn’t be blaming you—”
“Tell me. I’m a good listener when I’m not blabbing. Sometimes talking to
someone, de-briefing if you like, helps to clear things up. It sounds like
you’ve been bottling it up for too long.” So, because for the first time
someone had actually bothered to ask her what was wrong, she told him.
Everything. It poured out of her, an unending stream of words. When she had
finished she glanced at him waiting for some sort of response.
“It’s O.K. You can say that it hurts.” Her brows knitted as she mulled over
what he’d said. She shrugged.
“Now that I’ve managed to spill my guts to a complete stranger who I’ve known
for—” she flicked her sleeve up and consulted her watch, “all of three hours.
There’s not much left to do is there?” She tried to make it flippant but it
came out slightly harsher than she’d intended.
“Besides checking out your CD collection?” he asked.
“You want to come over?” Brian nodded ‘yes’ to her question.
“I need company. I’m so goddamn lonely…” Cally realized that there was
something bruised in the eyes of this creature, it reminded her of the time she
had worked for an animal shelter, and it was the exact same look. She stood up,
grabbed his hand and hauled him up.
“De-briefing is ! good for the soul, right?” She said. “I think you need to
follow your own advice…”

Part 14

The old, worn grey sofa sank with their weight. Brian realized how much he
liked the disordered serenity of Cally’s flat. She had clutter, yes, but it was
arranged so that it was somehow really decorative. It was the typical
university student’s flat, thrift store furnishings, such as the sofa he was
sitting on, the basic amenities such as a stove, fridge, and a heater. He
rubbed his hands together; they were freezing. In common with many men of his
build, the cold cut right through him.
“Hang on, I’ll go get my quilt.” Right. The heater was mostly for show
obviously. This Cally had in common with other uni students; the idea of a
large electricity bill was an enormous threat. She leapt off the couch and
headed towards what he presumed to be her bedroom. She came back, arms full of
the quilt in question. She plopped down next to him, wrapping the doona snugly
around them. She turned the TV on, but left the sound muted.
“Drink your hot chocolate. I’ll be really offended if you don’t. After all I
spent all of two minutes making it. And it should warm you up some more.”
“Mmm. Nice.” Brian licked a bit of milky chocolate from the corner of Cally’s
mouth.
“I meant yours, silly.”
“I know.” Brian wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. Cally groaned.
“Do I get the feeling, Mr. Molko that you’re somehow avoiding the subject by
distracting me?”
“Never!” Brian put on his most innocent, ‘It wasn’t me that stole the ecstasy’
face. Just as it hadn’t worked on Stef, it didn’t work on Cally.
“All right. Just remember you asked for it.”

Sydney, Mardi Gras Night, 1997

The tawdry gaiety of the Cross was even more apparent ! this night of all nights.
The garish neon of adult shop signs, the make-up on the streetwalkers, the
glitter adorning the bodies of the young and beautiful. The parade had
finished, and it was the one day of the year that a cock in a frock on the
streets of Sydney was an unremarkable sight. Brian felt comfortable walking
down Oxford Street holding hands with the man at his side, whose name he did
not know, and probably would never know --didn’t care to know. The atmosphere
was electric, the possibility of sex tonight for the denizens of this city
higher than any other night of the year. Brian felt it, the barely perceptible
brush of invisible hands that managed to raise the skin of his forearms with
goose bumps. Somehow it was beautiful, all the pretty boys and girls desperate
to fuck.

Fifteen minutes later they were at the man’s house. A rather quaint affair in
the suburbs, it was shrouded with the shadows cast by the large trees in the
front garden. Similarly the bedroom was dark, just the pale linen of the bed
coverings visible. The man hauled Brian up against him, the kiss so rough that
it almost couldn’t be called a kiss. More like a clashing of lips.
“Hey,” Brian pulled his bruised mouth away.
“Sorry.” He mumbled. This time the kiss was gentle, the man’s tongue slowly
tracing the waxy outline of Brian’s lips. They collapsed on the bed, the sheets
bizarrely smelling of hay. Brian managed on form a barely coherent thought, ‘A
roll in the hay, how appropriate. What the fuck did I take?’ This had happened
to him during bad trips before, the muddling of his senses so that he saw the
music flowing from speakers, great big fat shiny drops of different colored
plastic… He decided to go with it, knowing that he had no other option. The man
slipped Brian’s t-shirt off, exposing his chest, adorned so prettily with pin! k
nipples. He bit, he sucked and tortured the poor nubs of flesh so that they
were as sore as his lips. The man had shed his clothes as well, his slim white
body almost a mirror image of Brian’s except on a somewhat larger scale.
Suddenly dizziness assailed Brian so that he lost his centre of gravity. He
swayed, heavily landing on the floor beside the bed. His tumble had caught the
man unawares as well, so that he landed on top of Brian.
“Shit. What happened? You right there?”
“Nothing. Where were we up to?” With that Brian resumed the kiss, the carpet
under him a slightly itchy counterpoint. The man’s mouth trailed a pattern just
under the elastic of Brian’s boxers, his palm cupping the protrusion just
below, rubbing the silky material against his dick. Brian was struck by another
attack of dizziness but this time caused by the man’s hand on him. His mouth
filled with saliva that he swallowed back hastily. “Lets move back to the bed
shall we?” Brian nodded and seconds later found himself lying on the sweet
smelling linen again. “Can I fuck you?” The man’s voice was rusty with need.
“O.K.” Brian let out a wry laugh. “I think it’s a bit too late for me to worry
about faecal incontinence.” The man mumbled in his bedside drawer pulling out a
rather large tube of KY. Brian’s eyes widened. The man noticed his shocked
expression and smiled.
“It was a present from one of my friends. You should see what else it came
with.”
“Mmmm.” The coolness of the gel as it was spread made Brian moan. He grabbed
the plastic packet, saying softly, “here let me do that for you.” He took the
unwrapped condom into his mouth, sucked in and lowered himself down so he was
facing the other man’s dick. He smoothly unrolled the condom, just using his
mouth.
“Fuck you! 6;re good.” Brian just smiled in reply.

Brian gripped the man’s cock and guided it so that it rested against the
slickness of his asshole. The thrust when it came, rocked Brian back. The man
spread his legs so that he had more purchase on the bed. Then finally after
much adjustment he was fully inside Brian. The sheer fullness of having a dick
inside him always made him feel slightly ill at first, then as the sensation
took over it receded into a vague memory. Brian wondered at the capability of
humans to forget about things like discomfort, especially if there was the
promise of pleasure around the corner. The man continued to move up and down,
eyes firmly focused on Brian’s large grey ones. Fuck, there was nothing quite
like the feeling of having your prostate rubbed in exactly…the…right...way…

Brian’s hand went to his dick as the sensations continued to build. He grabbed
the shaft, moving the foreskin rhythmically. The man let out a soft moan and
Brian felt him come, his penis giving a few jerks inside him. This toppled
Brian, his hands continued their motion but faster then—He came, splattering
all over the man’s belly.

Brian gazed at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes seemed to cover over half
his face, like some anime character. He flipped the toilet lid down, sitting
down abruptly. He just needed one quick fix before he left. The sex had been
good, and he wanted to ride the wave of contention with a bit of opiate help.
He scrambled inside his bag, carefully arranging his gear on the countertop. He
had to be fast, or else the man would wonder what was taking him so long. He
tapped the syringe, drawing the fluid up with a practised flick. He tightened
the tourniquet and let the liquid slide into his bloodstream. He meticulously
gathered up his things and shoved them back into the bag before going to lie
beside the! man.

Brian felt himself floating away, the cool rush spreading to his extremities,
his brain refusing to register anything besides the pleasure coursing through
his system.
“Brian!” Slap. He could hear the man swearing in the distance. “Brian. What the
fuck?” Again slap, followed by a violent shake. Brian felt the bed move as the
man scrambled off. “Oh shit.” He heard his bag being unzipped. “Shit. Shit.
Shit.” Then nothing.

Unwelcome consciousness. Brian sat up suddenly. He looked at the two men at the
foot of the bed. The first one was the guy he’d fucked, the second one was
cleaning up empty ampoules and wrappers.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” Brian yelled angrily. It was best fix that
he’d ever had and these dimwits--
“See I told you. They’re always pissed off that you saved their life.” This
came from the second man. “You owe me 60 bucks, buddy. Narcan doesn’t come
cheap.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Oh just Dan’s neighbour. You are damn lucky that I was here tonight.”
“Fuck the lot of you. I’m leaving.” Brian shakily stood up, and began to get
dressed.

Brian dared to look at Cally’s face. After a while she wrapped her arms around
him, silently projecting comfort. To tell the truth it felt good to tell
someone about that horrible night.
“It wasn’t the fact that I’d nearly died. It was because I didn’t care anymore
about anything else, not even my life. I was forced to question some salient
things about myself…”
“God. You’re so brave.”
“Braveness has nothing to do with it. It was either that or not waking up one
night.” Cally simply hugged him harder. Brian laid his cheek against the top of
her head, finally allowing the tears to come.

Part 1! 5

Brian’s ninth shower of the day felt as good as the last eight. This was the
pattern he repeated as soon as he broke up with someone. Hoping the dirtiness
that he felt would be washed away with hot water and soap. And since
regrettably there was nothing quite so bad for the skin as soap and hot water,
he inevitably broke out in spots. He squirted some lime shower gel into his
puff and scrubbed harder. He refused to think about his visit to the doctor,
the signing of the request form, hoping against hope that when it came back it
wouldn’t be positive.

Neither Fen nor Cally had called him, the first because he’d been a bastard to
him, the second because he’d disappointed her terribly. Way to go, Molko.
You’ve accomplished far more in the ‘fucking up’ category than you’ve ever done
before. Soon you won’t have any friends left. That’ll probably be for the best,
he thought miserably; I tend to treat my friends badly, and as for my lovers,
well enough said. He hung up the puff, and reached towards the rack of shampoo.
He squeezed the bottle, and started to stroke the stuff through his hair. Mint.
Goddamn mint! Tears sprang to his eyes instantly.
“Oh fuck the bastard!” Brian threw the container to one corner. He slid down
the warm tiles so that he was huddled up in one corner, water still beating
down on him. “Fuck. Fuck. Fu--.” The last word was bitten off as the stall door
was slammed open. Steve’s worried face looked down at him.
“Last I heard, people do knock before barging in when someone’s having a bloody
shower, you know!” Brian shouted angrily at him.
“I, uh. Cally was really worried about you. We thought—”
“I know very well what you thought. You were really worried not from any
concern about me but for your fucking meal ticket! Never biting the hand that
! feeds you and all that!” With that Brian slid the door closed violently.
Through the fogged glass he saw Steve’s body hesitate and finally walk out,
closing the door behind him.

They were waiting for him as he emerged, Steve, Stef, Cally and Fen. He stopped
abruptly noticing the fact that there was also a complete stranger there as
well. Suddenly he realized what was going on; it was an ‘intervention’. Fuck
Cally and her bloody do-gooding. She’d told people about her suspicions
obviously. Since there was no covering up of his track marks as he was clad in
only a towel, he assumed a defensive position.
“Sit down, Brian.” This was the stranger.
“Fuck off, will you. I’m not in the mood!”
“Brian—” The woman’s soothing voice sawed through his nerves and
patience. “Fuck off, fuck off FUCK OFF!” He grabbed a nearby ornament and
hurled it.
“You’re being childish. Calm down. We’re here to help you.” Cally’s tone didn’t
match her voice. She was furious. Fen continued where she’d left off,
“Yes, Brian. When I heard about you I—Please don’t do this, I need you so much—
” Brian saw the beautiful face twist with emotion. “I know I said some things
that I regret now—” Suddenly all the fight left Brian. He sat down on chair,
head buried in his hands. He felt someone stroking his hair, whispering
soothing nonsense. He looked up at Fen and said softly, “You were right. I’m a
selfish bastard. I’m sorry I fucked—” Fen interrupted him,
“Hush, like I said to you then, it’s not that I just wish you’d told me that’s
all.” Gathering up his tattered courage he said firmly to the woman,
“Please leave. I’m all right now.” She glanced at the rest of them, waiting for
their assent. Fen nodde! d to her and she obeyed his unspoken command.

Steve lifted Brian’s arm and turned it so that he could see the red spots that
littered the soft inside. He also pulled out one of the chairs away from the
table and sat down. He asked simply, “Why?” Brian turned away ashamed at the
heartfelt emotion that he saw in the drummer’s eyes. Brian cleared his throat
nervously and told them about Peter’s news.

Part 16

“God Brian-” Fen hauled him off his chair and sat him down on his lap,
clutching him so tightly that Brian was sure he felt his ribs creaking.
“Why couldn’t you tell us?” Cally’s face was distraught. Steve moved so that he
was behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders.
“I don’t know… I’ve just been trying to deal with it myself. I didn’t want to
burden you guys…” He trailed off noticing Stef’s angry expression.
“For fucks sake Bri, we’ve been with you as you’ve been throwing up your guts
in some gutter, we’ve been there as you’ve fucked people, we’ve been there when
you’ve been ecstatic just after a good gig--We’re always there.” Brian felt as
if his heart would explode. He’d been so wrapped up in his own glass bubble
that he’d forgotten about his friends. The people that kept him alive in more
ways than just the obvious. “I know I’m not as clever with words as you are but-
you have to realize how important you are to us. It’s not only your talent, or
anything else, and God you can be an annoying, frustrating bastard sometimes--
But you’re our bastard, got it?” Stef stopped and his eyes shimmered with
unshed tears. Brian felt as startled as if an inanimate object had turned
around and had started to speak to him. Stef was normally so quiet so--Steve
derailed his train of thought with,
“! I think you guys are assuming too much here. Brian have you actually got your
result back?”
“Um, no.”
“Well until then there’s no point speculating, is there?”
”What if-” He began.
“We all know the reality of the situation here. You’re a practising bisexual
and you’ve also been an intravenous drug user. But that doesn’t mean anything
until you know for certain,” Steve said firmly. Cally turned on Brian and said,
“What about the heroin?” Brian felt ashamed. He’d had his first hit thinking
that he was some kind of drama queen, some tragic figure drowning his sorrows
with oblivion in a needle. Now he saw his actions for what it was: nothing but
a childish cry for help, an attention seeking device that had mercifully
worked, although not in the way he’d expected. Seeing Brian’s distress, Fen
leapt to his aid.
“I’d like some time alone with Brian, I think we need to discuss some important
things…” Stef opened his mouth as if to reply but closed it, words unspoken.
Cally said, ‘fine’ and she and Steve left without protest. Stef lingered
obviously wanting to say more. He shot Fen a glance that was really hostile.
His face said, ‘He’s my friend and who the fuck are you to tell me to leave’
but Brian’s pleading eyes persuaded him to follow the others’ example.

Fen kept stroking Brian’s hair mindlessly, fingers lost in the silky black
strands. It reminded Brian of the first night, when Fen had done the same
thing, trying to soothe his concerns about his parents. It all seemed so
distant now, his problems so foolish compared to the quandary he was faced with
now.
“Fen?”
“I meant to tell you this a long time ago Brian but I never quite got the
courage to do so. I thought it would be all right as we were having safe s! ex-”
Brian felt the blood rushing to his head, the void of sound a roar in his ears.
He knew what was coming. “I’m HIV positive.”

Part 17

Three Months Later

The coffee tasted awful. Brian took another sip purely for the caffeine and
gagged. It was worse than his mother’s tradition weak Earl Grey that she saved
for wakes and birthdays. He absently took another drag off his fag blowing the
smoke out in a stream. He hated waiting, and here he was waiting again. His
hands trembled and he felt cold sweat beading his skin, fine droplets of
anxiety. Fen had been in the States for the last three months, busy with his
work. It would be the first time that he’d seen him after that fateful night at
his house. After the announcement of his HIV positive status, he’d mumbled
something about being away for a couple of months on business. Brian’s mind had
been numb, trying to assimilate the information. He hadn’t protested when Fen
had left; it had almost been a blessing when he had.

The others had descended on him the next day, demanding an explanation. He
fobbed them off for a short while and like all good friends, they hadn’t
allowed him to dissuade them for long. They’d got a full explanation from him
the next day, Brian spelling it out for them, his tone emotionless. He’d
managed to survive the days, glad when night came so that he could sleep. In
fact, sleep had taken over his existence, so that he’d done nothing else the
last few months. Then all of a sudden the phone call. The terse message, ‘meet
me at Café Blue Moon on Sunday at five.’

“Brian!” The familiar voice jarred him out of his contemplations.
“Hi.” Fen looked older somehow, skin slightly dull, the lines a little bit more
pronounced. Brian tried to light another cigarette, but the lighter in his
! trembling hands wouldn’t cooperate.
“Here let me.” Fen flicked the tab, the smooth flame sprouting obediently. They
made polite conversation for a while, Brian asking about Fen’s stay in Atlanta,
Fen in turn questioning him about the tour. The conversation hit a concrete
wall, both silently reproaching themselves for not broaching the topic
prominent on their minds.
“I found out my results last week.” Brian dipped a toe in the murky water. “It
was negative.” Fen’s carefully composed façade cracked.
“Thank God. I’m so relieved.” He stood up and without warning pulled Brian into
a fierce hug. “Thank God. Thank God.” Brian felt something crumble inside him.
He began to cry, great big gulping sobs that attracted the attention of the
other customers of the café. “Lets go somewhere else, shall we?” Brian nodded.

The walked down the street, Fen’s arm around Brian’s shoulders.
“You’re not angry?” Brian asked.
“About what?
“’Cause I’m not positive?” Brian stopped and looked carefully at Fen’s face,
judging his expression.
“What kind of person do you think I am that I’d be jealous of someone else’s
good fortune?” Fen sounded indignant with good reason.
“I don’t know. When you didn’t call me all this time…” Brian trailed off.
“I was waiting for you to call me, you dingbat.”
“Oh.” Brian expelled a large breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Are you pissed off that I didn’t tell you about myself before?”
“I was at first, but then I admitted to myself that I probably wouldn’t have
told you either…” It had taken Brian a lot of soul searching to come to the
conclusion.
“I was going to so many times but I never found the rig! ht words or the right
time. I know that sounds like an excuse…” Fen looked more upset than Brian had
ever seen him. “Please forgive me…”

The kiss when it happened was everything a kiss is meant to be, a heady
promise, a story of love lost and love gained and the future that held them
together. They’d just have to cram in extra happiness into every second, making
up for past mistakes.
“You do know what you’ve done now, don’t you Fen?” Brian said. “Welcome to the
crazy fun house that is my life.”
“I’m looking forward to it…”

The End.