#ifn

“Your mother’s right you know.”

Brian groaned, momentarily removing his pencil from the paper he was sketching on. What did she want?

“Right about what?” he sighed.

“Bri’s never going to be interested in a relationship with you. With us. I can’t believe that, even for a second, you actually entertained the idea. He doesn’t even like you. You know he just seems friendly and happy because you’re his little science project. His monkey that can dance. His guaranteed acceptance into the medical profession when he writes on his application that he has experience working with someone who has multiple personality disorder. You’re a gimmick. A case study is all.”

“You know what Brenda? Shut the fuck up.”

“You know I’m right. We’re completely unlovable and you know we are. He probably goes home and laughs at you and you’re pathetic attempts to be funny and flirt”

“YOU JUST CAN’T LET ME HAPPY CAN YOU?!” Brian shouted losing his temper.

“Brian?” his mother shouted up to him, rushing upstairs. She had experiences with Brian’s unpredictable shouting that she’d rather not relive. She appeared in the door frame of Brian’s room to find him quietly crying to himself. She rushed over and put an arm around him, subtly checking for any wounds or self-inflicted injury and-thankfully-finding none. She cradled his head with her other hand as he burrowed into her neck. She didn’t need to ask.

Brian successfully ignored Brenda and her sly comments for the rest of the week, like his mother had advised him. He didn’t need that negativity right now when he was actually doing ok. He’d got past a self-destructive phase in his life and might possibly be building a friendship with someone. Brenda was just being a bitch. As always.

Finally it was the day he got to see his only friend again! Yay! Not like Brian had been waiting all week (again) though. Of course not.

Turns out Bri had actually been serious last week when he talked about bringing his guitar, as when Brian walked into their little room, there he stood with it slung over his shoulders.

“Oh you have a fucking guitar?!”

“I told you!”

“Play me a song?” Brian said smiling sweetly and batting his eyelashes in a semi-joking fashion

“Well since you asked so nicely.”

And Bri proceeded to play. Waterloo by Abba. Turns out not only was Bri an excellent guitarist he could also really sing. Brian was mesmerized by his talent. He loudly joined in with the chorus knowing full well he was completely tuneless, yet it caused Bri to laugh so was that really a negative? After a few more requests (“DO WONDERWALL!”) and more poor attempts to join in from Brian, the session was nearly over.

“You are really talented Bri! God some people have all the luck.” Brian sighed thinking about how he had been hit by the unlucky stick quite a bit.

“Hey I’m sure there’s something you must be good at, right?”

“Well I do like to sketch.” Brian mused thinking of how art had always been his escape and way of documenting thought processes.

“Oh my god, you have to show me your drawings! This is when you bring in a sketchbook next week just filled entirely of portraits of me!” Bri laughed

Brian too started to laugh, that laugh where he flailed his arms around and wheezed. Because Brian was actually spot on. *sweats nervously*

“I think he’s on to us!” he managed to say in his old man voice, thinking he’d covered it up pretty well.

“I’m serious though I would love to see your art work.” Bri said this with sincerity and he stared at Brian intensely. Brian was almost made uncomfortable by how he genuinely seemed interested, how he genuinely cared.

“I’ll show you.” He said, without hesitation. Staring just as intently back.

The next week Brian had gathered up all his favourite pieces he’d ever done, and had even put work into new ones, just because Brian asked to see his work. His mother was pleased the man had such a positive influence over her son but it almost made her nervous knowing how much Brian cared for him. She didn’t want him to get hurt.

Bri was more than impressed. He gushed, he gagged and gasped at the pictures presented and it made Brian feel all fluffy inside

“Will you put them on the fridge mom?” he said grinning. Bri laughed

“Seriously, these are so good! You could go to art school!” he said suddenly. Brian pulled a face, was a pressurised environment really a good place for him? Or for Katya, Trish or Brenda? Not that he gave a fuck about how Brenda felt. Bitch.

“I don’t know…” was what he said in response. Bri shrugged and insisted he knew some great courses, with excellent teachers that he thought would really help Brian to excel should he change his mind. This was another thing that made Brian feel all fluffy, the fact that Bri wanted him to do well, wanted him to succeed and was willing to help him.

He wondered about Bri, was he always this nice and helpfulwith everyone? Or was this just maybe- just possibly- because he actually liked Brian? He knew Brenda would say he just wanted to see Brian succeed because it would make him look good, but Brenda never had positive things to say and Brian should really stop even considering her thoughts and opinions. He knew Katya and Trish were both rather fond of Brian, they both thought he was really cute, and were constantly flirting with the poor man. Not that Brian was any better himself. Bri seemed to flirt back? Did he? Brian didn’t know, was he just being friendly? He knew that Bri was gay. He had bluntly asked during their truths and lies game last week and Brian had responded with a simple “yes.” But his expression had said “of fucking course, obviously. Are you stupid?” He really just wanted to spend more time with the man. So daringly he suggested it.

“We should do something this week.” He said. Bri stared at him. “I mean meet up outside these little sessions, go somewhere together.”

“Oh…” Bri said hesitantly “listen I’m not sure that’s really…” Brian didn’t really hear the rest of the rejection. He wished he could eat his words and was already mentally kicking himself, and abusing himself verbally, for suggesting it. God Brenda was going to have a field day with this. Of course Bri didn’t want to hang out with the mentally insane man. Who the fuck would.

Brian walked out whilst Bri was mid-sentence.

He went straight to the car.