xie_xie_xie | Frost

Frost

This is a short story I wrote for the holiday challenge at

qaf_challenges. It's nothing like anything I've ever written before. It's short, it's extremely sad, it's set during Season 2, on Christmas Eve. It broke my heart, and yet I think it's exactly what happened.

It was originally posted here, and got the least amount of feedback I've ever gotten on a story - even though I think it's the best thing I've ever written. Setting aside my usual begging for feedback, I'd be genuinely interested in your thoughts on this piece.

Beta'd by

gmta_nz, icon and banner by

roc_abs, proofed by

vlredreign, written for my beautiful wife

_alicesprings' challenge.

Frost
by Xie

I was sitting at my computer, the monitor the only light in the loft. Justin was sleeping, and I’d turned off the light over the bed when I left him there, tangled in the sheets.

I couldn’t sleep.

I’d dropped Justin at his mom’s for Christmas Eve. I knew going there would fuck with him, but when I suggested we go to Babylon instead, he’d given me a disgusted look and said he’d get a ride some other way if I didn’t want to drive him, but he was going.

He was restless and quiet after I got him from his mom’s just past midnight, and I felt a headache start in the back of my neck while we rode up in the elevator. He went straight to the shower and was in there a long time. I’d showered before I picked him up, so I didn’t join him, just stared at my computer and waited for him to come out and tell me about his evening.

But he didn’t. He just got in bed. And I just sat at my computer.

We were going to Debbie’s the next day, an annual homage to the tacky and maudlin that I somehow had let myself get roped into every year since I met Michael. I’d gone there after my own family’s Christmas dinner, where I’d never managed to force down more than a forkful of turkey, to have a plate loaded with sausage stuffing and turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy, followed by pumpkin pie smothered in canned whipped topping.

I heard a sound from the bedroom. I swore. He hadn’t been asleep ten minutes.

I walked into the room and he was curled into a ball on his side. I thought maybe I’d imagined the sound, when he kicked out his left leg and made a strangled noise. I knelt next to him, put a firm hand on his shoulder, and said his name once.

He thrashed out with his left arm, and I calmly leaned back so he didn’t make contact, then gripped his shoulder again and repeated his name, louder. He froze, opened his eyes, licked his lips, and rolled onto his back. He looked at me for a long minute. I didn’t say anything.

When I brought Justin back to the loft after he got out of the hospital, he would sometimes cry after I woke him from a bad dream. There were a lot of things Justin didn’t do anymore. Crying was one of them. And he didn’t cry now. He just stared at me. I stared back.

Then I got off the bed, stripped off my jeans and t-shirt, and climbed in with him. He didn’t say anything, didn’t cuddle up to me, just let me lie along his back and drape my arm over him, let me put my head on his pillow, his head under my chin.

And I waited for him to go to sleep again.

After a few minutes, I thought maybe I was wrong, maybe he was crying. I lifted my head and looked down at his face, but his eyes were dry. Open and staring, but dry.

I bent my legs, fitting them to the exact curve of his, letting my hand slide down over his hip and settle his ass firmly against me. His spine was rigid, but I wrapped my arm across his chest and pulled him into me, and I felt the tension go out of it all in one instant. His neck curved and I felt his hair against my cheek.

I thought about fucking him, but his body wasn’t welcoming me the way that meant he wanted to be fucked, or touched, or jerked off, or kissed. That didn’t necessarily matter, because usually all it took to get Justin in the mood was one soft kiss on the back of his neck, or a murmur against his ear, but for some reason tonight I wasn’t in the mood, either.

He took a deep breath. I felt his ribs expand with it. I wanted to look at his face again, but I didn’t. I just lay there wrapped around him, wishing he were asleep.

I used to watch Justin sleep before he got bashed. He did it the way he fucked, without holding anything back. He let himself go all the way to sleep, his lips parted just a little, his lashes lying on his cheeks, his skin flushed, his body soft. Justin had the amazing ability to sleepily open his arms or legs or body warmth up to me when I wanted that, and to curl away, his cheek on his arm, when I’d had enough.

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him sleep like that.

Even now, after really intense sex, he sometimes would fall into a deep sleep. I would stare at him, willing it to stay peaceful, but it never did. If I watched him long enough, I could see his breathing get uneven, his eyes start flickering under his closed lids, and hear little sounds in his throat.

And then I’d wake him up. And watch him struggle to get out of the grip of the things in his head, to see just the loft ceiling and me and the darkness beyond the bed.

I used to ask him about his dreams, but it was always the same one, over and over. It never changed. So I stopped asking. I didn’t ask that night.

After ten minutes I felt his breathing get deeper and more regular, and I waited a little while longer and then carefully lifted my head and looked down at his face. His eyes were closed and for a few seconds he looked like he used to look when he slept. Then his lips moved, just a little, and his breathing hitched, and he moved his hand up and stuck it under his pillow.

He didn’t move again for a long time, and I finally got out of bed and went back to my computer and turned it off. I meant to grab some water out of the refrigerator and go back to bed, but now I was the one who felt restless. I walked over to the window and stood staring out, seeing a few buildings lit up for Christmas off in the distance, little dried up crusts of dirty snow up against the curb. My breath made a frost on the glass.

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I think this is absolutely beautiful. It is sad, but perfectly understated in its sadness. There is nothing maudlin or overdone, it is just emotion expressed in a clear, free-flowing way that I think accurately captures the way Brian would have observed Justin. The word choice is concise and vivd - I can see it, feel it, and hear it.

You did throw me a bit with this, because it's not your usual.

However, if you want to make it your new usual, I'm good with it.

You know me, I love my angst, and this just hurt my heart. This was such a sad time in their history, and I'm sure you noticed in 201, 202 and 204 that the loft scenes tended to mostly shot at night, in the dark. When I read this, I imagined the bedroom, dark, but with that muted blue from the lights, except that they weren't sexy and inviting. Rather they were gloomy, scary, cold.

You know I'm serious when I say I wanna be you when I grow up, right?

I just read this over at qaf_challenges and I have to say I enjoyed it a lot. I do agree that it's different from your usually stuff. But, I do like to read stories that are sometimes sad and are very emotional. I thought this was beautifully written and though it's short, it definitely packs a punch :)

It is the best thing you've ever written.

This is so beautiful and so sad. It made my heart ache. You always choose the right words. Like, each one is perfectly in its place. I don't know how to explain LOL. But, so superexcellent.

I'm just now starting to read the challenge fics, now that I'm home...I'll be doing rambly feedback on this one as soon as I finish with Risks. ;-)

Darlin, I have not read this. I will read it, I promise. But since Christmas I have really really struggled with focus and my feedback muse. It seems to come and go in fits and spurts.

This lovely little story speaks so softly yet so powerfully of the trauma Justin has not yet recovered from, and the helplessness Brian feels, as anyone does when their loved one is in pain. The fact that it's Christmas, wintry and frosty, just adds to the poignancy. How many more nights will Brian pace the floor whilst Justin tosses around the bed, haunted by his nightmares? You have captured the essence of their angst and suffering so well. Beautiful.

Like I said, this is so powerful and tender. It hurts so much, and it makes me want to weep quietly for Brian. There is so much love in this fic, although it isn't mentioned in words, and Brian doesn't even know that he feels that way at that time :((

I disagree when you say it isn't Xie-ish, because it's fanfuckingtastic, and that's enough.

I hadn't read this before, but I do understand why few people commented. I don't think the tone, which is melancholy, was the problem. Instead, I think it was becase the piece is so whole. It has no little zingers or wiseacre lines that scream to be quoted. It just is...a clear and complete limning of a moment from one person's point of view.

If I were going to quote any text, I would quote this: "We were going to Debbie’s the next day, an annual homage to the tacky and maudlin that I somehow had let myself get roped into every year since I met Michael. I’d gone there after my own family’s Christmas dinner, where I’d never managed to force down more than a forkful of turkey, to have a plate loaded with sausage stuffing and turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy, followed by pumpkin pie smothered in canned whipped topping." Brian's own wounds inform his understanding of Justin's.

Thank you. FanSee

I'll second the beautiful comment and its message for me at least was subtle. It showed the caring and the little things that Brian always noticed about Justin, but it was those little things that meant he loved him enough to notice them in the first place. Does that even make sense? 'laughs' it was very lovely!

It was so sad I think your right about it being what happened though.
I enjoy your writing and I think this is some of your best work.
So emotional pulled on my heart strings.

It's wonderful. I can't say more. Very beautiful and touching. :)

really powerful. I haven't found much that really captured Brian's thoughts post-bashing. Frost did it very well though.

My fav line was: ,let me put my head on his pillow, his head under my chin.

not sure how I missed this. It's lovely even though it's a bit melancholy.

This is hard to read - Justin is so sad and all Brian can do is be there. I haven't read all the challenges so I missed this one.
Beautifully written, as always.

Someone described this as subtle and I think that is perfect. It does seem dead on but I imagine people didn't respond because they didn't really know what to say... it is such a quiet fiction. I would venture to guess that as a part of a larger fiction it would have received a lot of attention. It is very nice. Hmmm, hope some of this makes sense.

i'm glad you posted this again...i missed it somehow the first time around. sensitive brian is always a pleasure to read because i felt he could be very sensitive to his friends...just never showed his feelings easily. heartbreaking and poignant....."I used to watch Justin sleep before he got bashed. He did it the way he fucked, without holding anything back. He let himself go all the way to sleep, his lips parted just a little, his lashes lying on his cheeks, his skin flushed, his body soft. Justin had the amazing ability to sleepily open his arms or legs or body warmth up to me when I wanted that, and to curl away, his cheek on his arm, when I’d had enough.

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him sleep like that.

Even now, after really intense sex, he sometimes would fall into a deep sleep. I would stare at him, willing it to stay peaceful, but it never did. If I watched him long enough, I could see his breathing get uneven, his eyes start flickering under his closed lids, and hear little sounds in his throat.

And then I’d wake him up. And watch him struggle to get out of the grip of the things in his head, to see just the loft ceiling and me and the darkness beyond the bed.

I used to ask him about his dreams, but it was always the same one, over and over. It never changed. So I stopped asking. I didn’t ask that night."

This was beautiful in its cold sadness. I love the ending.

I would have commented over at the qaf_challenges comm if I had read it over there, but I only got through a few fics before RL got in the way and I didn't get back to them until a couple of days ago. Anyways....

This was great--depressing as all getout--but great nonetheless! Much different from your MO, but I think it's a welcome change of pace. I like the sadness of it, and the resignation on both Brian's and Justin's parts with respect to how Justin is dealing with stuff. I like that it isn't maudlin; the situation sucks--it is what it is and sometimes you can do something to make a little less sucky and sometimes you can't. That's just life.

And now for something completely different…

This is turning out to be a difficult fic for me to provide feedback on for a couple of reasons, and maybe explaining why will actually be the feedback?!?

First, I can’t quote you specific passages and then comment on them like I usually do, because this fic demands that it be assessed in its entirety. The whole thing taken together is where the power of it comes from.

Second, I’m emotionally numb after reading this. Usually when I read one of your stories, I have such a strong emotional reaction to certain parts, and those emotions drive my written response. But, with this one, I’m left almost cold, so it’s hard for me to find a way to express that lack of feeling. It’s not that the story doesn’t work for me. On the contrary, it works incredibly well. This is Brian and Justin perfectly personified during the pre-breakup time period. You have truly captured the quiet sadness before the end.

I’m actually glad that I didn’t get to read this until now. I think it carries a much stronger impact for me when I compare it to where Justin and Brian are now in the Risks time-line. That’s not a connection that I would have made if I read this not knowing you were the author. It’s striking to see that in Risks, there are still silences, still not a huge amount of conversation, but there is so much more understanding. The contrast between Frost and Risks demonstrates the tremendous amount of growth that both Brian and Justin have experienced. I can imagine that this story was challenging for you to write, but I’m really very impressed with this one.

~Ellen

PS - The graphics for this story are superb.

roc_abs did a phenomenal job of capturing the essence of this piece.

There are so many sides to Brian and Justin's relationship, the support and concern shown by Brian being such an example. Do you remember in the character write-ups shown in the bonus features in season 1 that it mentioned Brian loved watching Justin sleep? It's part of who Brian is.
This is a beautiful piece of writing. Thank you for posting it.

This story is like dark, strong coffee, satisfying with a dash of bitter, much like real life. I'm always grateful when this fandom's great writers deal with the bashing (attempted murder)of Justin and the issues that both Justin and Brian needed to deal with and/or just acknowledge.

I love this story. It is different, edgy and to a degree more true to canon than canon.

The thing about QAF -- to me -- is that it is fast-paced at all times. If the emotion you are feeling at any given moment is too difficult, too funny, too snarky, too whatever, we can always trust that the show will move us to another feeling almost immediately. That is why the show is great! That is why it is our soap opera.

This story is stark, raw, honest and singular of purpose. It doesn't foreshadow the next snark, the next laugh, etc. It lays open Brian and his love. It is pain. In some ways, I think that would be much harder to write, to stay true to, than something where you can write yourself out of a corner with a snark, or a laugh, or some angst,

It is also brutal on those of us who are romantics, ya know :)

A winter frost can kill. Once it hits you wonder if all is lost and you hope there is something left to start the growth again, wondering how much pruning and pain will have to be endured in order to make things flourish.

Brian has been frosted more than once. His heart was more than half frozen for 29 years. When what started his thaw was damaged by a deadly frost he stands watch to see what he can salvage and protect; waiting for the spring to see if it can flourish again.

Yes, this fic is sad, but incredibly pure and filled with love. I find it amazing that nothing is jarring, no snark to lessen the pain, no hot sex to distract. Only Brian facing the damage of the frost that was done to Justin. Waiting for the spring.

I used to watch Justin sleep before he got bashed. He did it the way he fucked, without holding anything back. He let himself go all the way to sleep, his lips parted just a little, his lashes lying on his cheeks, his skin flushed, his body soft. Justin had the amazing ability to sleepily open his arms or legs or body warmth up to me when I wanted that, and to curl away, his cheek on his arm, when I’d had enough.

I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him sleep like that.

Even now, after really intense sex, he sometimes would fall into a deep sleep. I would stare at him, willing it to stay peaceful, but it never did. If I watched him long enough, I could see his breathing get uneven, his eyes start flickering under his closed lids, and hear little sounds in his throat.

Brian knows what Justin had, his innocence, his trust. He knows what he wants Justin to have again but can't, not yet, maybe never. But he is still there, watching, waiting, tending, knowing. What I find pouring through me as I read this was underneath everything was love and hope, even if it had been frosted.

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