Title: Crashing Down
Author: kimberlite
Pairing: Curt/Brian
Category: angst
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Please ask.
Disclaimer: These beautiful boys, and several familiar lines, belong to Todd Haynes, not me. "Bitter-Sweet" is by Andy Mackay and Brian Ferry.
Thank you: To Waldo for honest, insightful beta, and to Samantha for pinch-hitting after Waldo fell into Baseball Hell.
Summary: The break-up.
Notes: I was struck by this sentence from the screenplay: "There was blood on his mouth."
Feedback: Yes, please, to kimberlite@cox.net

Crashing Down

The recording session was not going well. Brian moved restlessly around the room, biting his nails. Over the past two weeks, Curt had spent over twenty hours recording and they only had two songs completed. Jerry was not happy. Even though Brian had stood up for Curt, he was afraid that things weren't going to get better. Curt seemed unable to concentrate, making small mistakes that nonetheless ruined the take. Curt was becoming increasingly frustrated and volatile. Jerry wasn't going to be understanding forever. Curt had served his marketing purpose, and now, if things didn't turn around, Jerry would considered him expendable. Brian had a bad feeling that soon Jerry would put his foot down, and Brian would have to make an impossible decision between his career and his lover.

In the soundproof booth, Curt was oblivious to Brian's concern. Eyes closed and ears covered by the earphones, Curt was completely cut off from the others, existing only in the music. He sang with a soul-deep pain that would be extremely affecting, if he could only get through the entire song. Nearing the end, however, Curt repeated a previous verse.

Brian winced as he heard the mistake. Eton, the sound technician, cursed under his breath, mumbling that after so many takes, even he knew the words. Brian turned to the few people still present, telling them that they were finished for the evening and asking them to leave.

When Curt finished the song, he looked out of the booth to find Brian pacing back and forth. Eton shut down the soundboard and left quickly. Confused, Curt pulled the earphones off with a jerk and stormed out of the booth. "What the fuck was wrong with that?"

Brian faced Curt and quietly said, "It was fine until the last verse. You forgot the words and repeated the second verse."

Frowning, Curt said, "I didn't forget." Brian was silent, and Curt thought back, replaying the song in his head. "Shit, I didn't do it on purpose." Curt dropped his head, unable to look at Brian.

Brian heard the mix of pain, frustration and despair in Curt's voice, echoing his own fear. Moving closer, Brian reached for Curt, pulling him into a tight embrace. "It's okay, luv. We'll make it work out somehow. Don't feel bad." Brian murmured vague reassurances to Curt and himself.

Curt allowed Brian to hold him and soothe him for a moment, but then pulled back. "I don't know what's wrong. Even when I was fucking high on heroin, I could still play music. I don't know why I'm losing it." Curt's anguish was palpable.

Knowing that the subject was painful, Brian asked softly, "Do you think your memory problems could stem from the electric shock treatments?"

Curt flinched slightly. "I guess they could have fucked me up as much as anything else. Not that I can do anything about it." Knowing Brian didn't have an answer to that, Curt took the offered comfort of Brian's arms, fitting his body back into Brian's. Their kisses were filled with a desperate hunger, born of fear and frustration. Curt took control of their passion, pushing Brian against the glass booth,
dominating and demanding. Brian responded to Curt's need instantly, softening his hold on Curt and submitting himself to Curt's desires.

Sensing Brian's acquiescence, Curt deepened their kisses, using his tongue to plunder Brian's mouth. The hot, wet sounds of suction excited them, escalating their need for each other. Curt released Brian's spiky hair, stroking his hands down Brian's sides to his hips. Curt's iron grip stilled Brian, holding him motionless for an agonizing moment before allowing them to make contact, cock to cock. Kissing, rubbing, gasping, writhing, they were nearly out of control.

Curt pulled back, dragging himself from the fire of Brian's body. Brian's wail of discontent abruptly changed to a groan of anticipation as Curt reached out to undo Brian's pants. Pushing Brian's pants down to his knees, Curt took Brian's erection, fondling the familiar velvet hardness, first with his hands and then with his mouth. Brian ran his fingers through Curt's silky hair, abandoning himself to the
sensations produced by Curt's tongue and teeth.

Before Brian could come, Curt released him. Standing up, Curt pulled Brian a few steps across the room and positioned his chest on the soundboard, legs spread, ass in the air, cock pointed downward, bumping the edge of the table. Curt undid his pants, sighing as the pressure on his erection was released. He watched Brian, exposed, vulnerable and waiting to be fucked. Curt sucked two fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly. He used his other hand to spread Brian's ass before plunging both fingers into Brian.

Brian cried out at the expected intrusion, muscles tightening around Curt's fingers. The burning pain, transforming quickly to pleasure, was exactly what Brian wanted, needed. Curt spit into his free hand, and rubbed saliva onto his cock, mixing it with his pre-come. After minimal, but sufficient, preparation, Curt withdrew his fingers and thrust his cock deep up Brian's ass.

Brian felt the pressure of Curt's cock and the weight of Curt's body press him into the soundboard. All at once, Curt's cock was embedded in his body, huge and hard and hurting, and Brian screamed his pleasure. Curt began a punishing rhythm, pounding into Brian, bruising his hips with the tight grip of his hands. Holding on as best as he could, Brian felt each knob of the soundboard, digging into his chest and cheek with the force of Curt's thrusts.

The pleasure was too intense to last forever. Curt worked his hand around Brian's cock, jerking it, demanding surrender. Brian came hard, spilling all over the floor. The contractions of Brian's ass pushed Curt over, flooding Brian with hot fluid.

They lay there, gasping and undone by the force of their joining. Finally, Curt carefully moved off Brian, helping him up and into his arms. Curt kissed Brian's spiky blue hair, trailing his lips past Brian's ear, up his cheek to his damp forehead. Tenderly, Curt said, "Thank you, luv. You always seem to know what I need." Curt ran his hand along Brian's flushed cheek, savoring the soft texture. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to hurt you."

Tingling as Curt touched his face with lips and hand, Brian accepted Curt's thanks and concern. "I'm fine, luv. I know what you need because it's what I need, too." They remained together for another minute, letting their bodies soak up the feeling of closeness and connection. Finally Brian said, "Let's clean up and go get some sleep. You'll see, everything will work out."

*****

Only it hadn't. With each studio hour that passed without a useable cut, Curt became more and more frustrated and angry. The tension at the studio was obvious, and Brian's own internal conflict was tearing him apart. Eventually something had to break.

*****

Curt ranted in the soundproof booth, throwing chairs around and cursing, "...fucking queen bitch space-god on some fucking high horse! You and your fucking henchmen!"

Brian turned away from Curt's tirade, and tentatively asked the assembled people, "Perhaps it's time for another little break, hey fellas? Give us a stretch?" As the technicians and band members stood up to leave, Brian looked over at Divine, who showed no intention of moving, and quietly asked, "Jerry?"

Jerry coolly responded, "I can't risk extending his contract, Brian. I think it's quite clear why. I'll speak to you tomorrow."

Brian turned away, conflicting emotions moving over his face. Even knowing this was coming, he just hadn't realized how painful it would be. A final look of sadness showed, then he looked up, meeting Mandy's gaze. After a moment, she broke the look and turned to leave.

Defeated, Brian propped himself against the soundboard, desperately hoping to avoid this final scene with Curt, but knowing that he couldn't.

Once Curt saw that the studio was empty except for Brian, he came out of the booth in a flurry of motion, hair wild around his face. Hyped by the adrenaline flooding his body, Curt was unable to stay still. He stalked around the room, stopped near the door, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, then returned, all of a sudden exhausted, to face Brian.

After the violence of Curt's outburst, the studio seemed suddenly, eerily quiet. Brian knew he had to tell Curt about the contract. Looking at Curt, his love, his music partner, his responsibility, Brian cursed inside. How was he supposed to break this news?

"Curt, I have to tell you something. Something you're not going to like hearing," Brian began in a rush. Curt tensed at the sound of Brian's voice.

"Jerry won't renew your contract," Brian said quietly. It was left unsaid, but understood nonetheless, that the blow up earlier had been the final straw.

Curt absorbed the information, and said, with underlying aggression, "Fuck. So, I guess that means I'm off the album and the tour." He fixed his eyes on Brian and asked, "What does this mean for us?"

Brian looked decidedly uncertain. "I don't know. I have to do the tour, and Jerry's made it clear if things didn't work out here, he didn't want you involved..."

Curt looked ready to explode. "Oh, so if *Jerry* doesn't want me, you don't either, right? You don't have to do the tour, you *want* to. Your fucking space-god image is more important to you than me. All that 'I love you, Curt' was just bullshit."

Brian took a step back from the violence of Curt's reaction. "No, I meant it. I still do." Brian looked torn, searching for a different answer, but coming back to the same conclusion. "I can't just give up my whole career. Jerry made me someone important, I can't go back to being nobody." Brian's voice was flat. However painful, the decision was made.

Curt stared, unwilling to believe the change in Brian's tone. "Can't stand being a nobody like me, huh?" Sarcasm burned from Curt's throat as he spat, "I hope you and your image are very happy together." Curt grabbed his leather coat, stuffing his arms inside the sleeves.

As Curt turned to leave, Brian remained silent, refusing to call him back. Finally, Curt returned to Brian. "Fuck you, you bastard." Curt raised his hand and hit Brian across the face. Brian's hand moved to cover his split lip, tasting blood. Angry and hurting, Curt spun around and went out the door.

Brian stood motionless, trying not to feel the pain as his world came crashing down around him. It wasn't his fault that Jerry had forced the issue. Life was so unfair. Curt should have understood, known how difficult this was for him. Suddenly angry, Brian went over to the window and yanked it up. Sticking his head out, Brian saw Curt, black leather coat billowing around his body, stalking down the street away from him. Needing to inflict pain, Brian shouted, "Piss off, then! Go on! Back to your wolves! Your junkie twerps! Your bloody shock treatment! And fuck you too!"

*****

The next day, Brian was sulking in his office at the Bijou building. He was angry at everyone and everything. He was used to getting what he wanted, and he hated to be thwarted in his desire to have both his career and Curt. Nonetheless, even though he wanted Curt, he remained firm to his decision. What was he beside his image? He couldn't sacrifice it.

Brian felt a subtle tingle along his spine, like someone was watching him. Turning around, he reassured himself that he was alone. Still, the feeling didn't fade. Instead, it expanded into the overwhelming sense of being observed. Sighing irritably, Brian stood up and went to the window, parting the filmy curtains, and looking down onto the street.

Brian froze as he saw Curt, still in black and leather, next to a white limo. Curt met his eyes, silently pleading with Brian to change his mind, to call him back into his life. Brian, refusing to be swayed by the smoldering gaze, stepped back, breaking their connection.

Unsure of what he had expected of Brian, Curt threw his cigarette to the ground and got into the limo. He had to get out of there.

*****

Curt was gone. Brian recognized that he had made the choice. He had allowed Curt to leave. Then why did he feel so hollow all of a sudden? With a sharp intake of breath, Brian realized that he had made a huge mistake. Curt was right, he had become his image. He had placed his self-worth in the hands of nameless fans and a greedy manager. A sharp pain radiated from his heart as he thought of Curt, alone and abandoned, feeling unwanted and worthless. He had to do something.

Brian grabbed the phone and called Jerry. "Out. O-U-T."

"Well, Brian, I'm afraid that's rather out of the question. You are contractually bound to complete the Maxwell Demon tour *as* Maxwell Demon," Jerry said firmly.

Desperate, Brian tried again. "Jerry, I'm telling you, the whole thing is just getting far too out of hand -- I really don't think I'll be able to..."

Cutting him off, Jerry cajoled, "Brian -- Brian -- I realize you're under tremendous strain, but you've just gotta hang on in there and finish the bloody tour. You hang on in there. I'll hang on here." Knowing that Jerry wouldn't relent, Brian had stopped listening, totally distressed by the knowledge that he was trapped on the tour. Jerry continued, trying to be positive, "And then you can do what you want, okay?"

*****

Curt walked the darkened streets of West Berlin smoking a cigarette. Even here, in the news and on the radio, he was unable to escape Brian. As his anger at Brian had cooled, he had felt an overwhelming sense of pain. He wasn't good enough for Brian to choose him. How that hurt. It would be so much easier if he could stop loving Brian. Then he wouldn't have to care.

Looking up, Curt spotted a man with spiky blue hair. His pulse quickened in recognition, and Curt took a few steps in his direction. The figure turned, and Curt realized he was a teenage fan playing at being Maxwell Demon. Curt was spooked by his misrecognition, and the disappointment he felt was unsettling.

*****

Everything had gone to hell. In the darkened studio, Brian, eyes closed, recorded the final refrain of the song. Tenderly pouring out his pain and loss into the music, Brian didn't feel the tear that slipped down his cheek.

And now, as you turn to leave
You try to force a smile --
As if to compensate --
Then you break down and cry