Title: Tender Moments
Author: kimberlite
Pairing: Curt/Brian, Curt/Arthur
Rating: R
Archive: Lipstick Traces, PBU and WWOMB.
Disclaimer: Please ask first.
Thank you: To Alex, as always, for encouragement and beta.
Summary: Curt remembers his past.
Notes: This is a response to Merri-Todd's tender sex challenge.
Feedback: Yes, please, to kimberlite@cox.net

Tender Moments

I'm lying on the couch in my office, arm thrown over my eyes trying to shut out the light. My head is beginning to hurt, which seems rather fitting, really. I was just blind-sided by my past -- twice in the space of a few minutes.

I was coming out of the subway this afternoon when I passed him. I thought I recognized him as we walked by each other, but I wasn't sure. It's been ten years, after all, and I only knew him for that one night. The nagging feeling persisted and I turned to look back, but he kept moving. Still, I think it was Arthur.

Then, as I remembered a completely different life, I was confronted with a huge screen and the image of Tommy Stone. He's so completely unlike the man I knew, the man I loved, that it's hard to imagine they are one and the same. Then again, Brian was always the master of his image.

What an odd coincidence -- running into them again like this. I really thought I'd made my peace with that time of my life, that fantastic alien landscape, that sparkling multi-colored fantasy. I'm not unhappy now, really. I have enough money to do what I want. I still make music, though more often in private. I'm not bitter about my life. Shit happens and you adapt or die. It's that simple. I'm a survivor.

Then why did seeing them knock me so out of kilter?

Arthur was only a brief moment in time -- a tiny island of innocence in a sea of decadence. But he was real. He meant something.

My feelings for Brian are, of course, more complex. We shared so much, promised so much, were so much to each other. I opened myself to him, showed him the depths of my soul, and in the end, got burned. After living through such pain is it any wonder I'm determined to protect myself?

But it wasn't always pain. There were good times -- the very best of times, the memories I cherish most. I miss those feelings now, their lack making me incomplete, dissatisfied.

Brian and I had fun together. He was my best friend, my only real friend. We made fantastic music together; we played hard, fucked hard and, in the end, fought hard. But amidst all the craziness of the scene, Brian knew how to snatch moments out of time.

I remember a press conference, another one of Jerry's great marketing ideas. We were all dressed up, putting on a show for the reporters. I hated stuff like that with a passion, but Brian wanted me there, so I went. But, as Jerry knew I would, I couldn't resist trying to shock those stuffy suits.

I only meant to toast him, maybe kiss him quickly, roughly, just to give them something to write about. But Brian was so beautiful. I felt time slow, people fading away as I approached him. He twined his arm about mine and we sipped champagne and I was lost in him. He made me want to quote poetry, to put the entirety of my feelings into one expressive gaze, to take his lips gently, quietly.

We kissed for an eternity, connected by the tender touch, tasting our love.

If only it had lasted.

I don't really remember all the details now, all the sharp pains that built into an agony of misunderstandings and broken promises. I remember my anguish, my desperate need to call him back to me, my dark despair.

And then, in the midst of the darkness, there was Arthur, my sweet, innocent Arthur. He shone so brightly that night on the roof. He let me stop time, gave me a moment's peace. I knew he wanted me to take him; I didn't want to frighten him, hurt him. He was so young, so soft, so smooth. I touched his cheek, his lips, helped him take off his shirt. He gave me everything he had. I hope I gave him something too, a shining moment of joy, of freedom.

It's funny that those are my strongest memories -- not the wild times but the quiet, tender moments. Since then, I haven't had anyone to share such moments with. I still fuck when I need to, but I haven't made love since then.

Brian is lost to me, I know, consumed by a new image. But maybe, just maybe, the kid who looked at me so sweetly, so lovingly a decade ago is out there, grown up but still wondrous, still searching. Maybe I can finally take the risk. Maybe I can find him and we can complete each other, healing the pain with love.