Work Text:
Brian stood in the middle of the loft, two large suitcases already packed and waiting by the door. It had been seven days since Justin left him. Seven days since the sunshine was drained from his life. And he couldn’t take the overwhelming darkness anymore. So instead of going after Justin and fighting for him like anyone else would have, he bought a one way ticket to Dublin and took a leave of absence from his job. He had forty whole vacation days he was cashing in, but both Ryder and Cynthia had the number of his work cell in case they needed him. He gave Cynthia his regular cell phone and told her she was only to pass on the important stuff. He didn’t want to listen to fifty messages from Deb calling him an asshole and bothering him about some shit or another. He didn’t want to listen to eighty messages from Michael whining in that nasally voice, wondering where he is and bitching about his life.
He really had no desire to even see Michael again. This whole stupid comic book had been his idea. Not only did it help pull Justin away from him, but every time he looked at the goddamn cover he was reminded of the best and worst night of his life. A night he just wanted to forget. The night that had destroyed any chance at happiness he had ever had.
So he changed the locks and alarm code to the loft. The only ones with a key now were himself, Cynthia, and Ted. Ted was his personal accountant, and relatively bored since he’d sold his website, so he’d be going every day to collect Brian’s mail and make sure anything important that came in was given to Cynthia, while he took care of any bills. Everything had been planned out perfectly. Especially the fact that no one besides those two and his boss knew that he was even leaving. He wasn’t going to tell anyone else. He had no reason to tell anyone else. The only reason any would even care if he left is because it would mean their personal punching bag wasn’t there.
He gave one last look around the empty loft. It was just as it had been for years. No charcoals lying around, no sketch pad open on the coffee table, no jacket thrown over the couch. It was the clean, cold space it used to be. With a heavy sigh, Brian put his suitcases in the hall, set the alarm and locked the door. He didn't look back as he got into the cab waiting for him downstairs. He didn't know if he'd ever want to look back again.