Work Text:
Brooke always knew Yvie was going to win.
She walked into the workroom with a goddamn hot wheels car attached to her dress. She was quirky and different, and Sasha had only won a few years ago, but with the influx of Drag Race content, it felt like forever since they crowned a “weird” queen.
That didn’t stop Brooke from trying her hardest.
She did well.
She was proud of herself.
She was.
Really.
It’s just that-
Nevermind
It’s just that-it would have been nice to win.
That’s all.
It would have been nice.
But it didn’t happen, so the what ifs were pointless.
She had done the best.
Three challenge wins.
Never safe.
More than anyone else.
She had done the best. Which is what she told herself she would do.
That should be enough.
It should.
It isn’t.
Because she really wanted to win.
More than smoking.
More than drinking.
More than breathing.
More than-
More than anything.
Anyways, it doesn’t matter now. Yvie was a worthy winner.
She was.
Everyone in the top 4 deserved to win.
Well-
Everyone in the top 5 deserved to win.
So, Brooke couldn’t be upset.
She couldn’t be mad.
Everyone was deserving.
It’s just that-
Brooke had done the best.
It was hateful the way her pageant mind worked: if you did the best, you won.
It was that simple.
So even though she had nine months to prepare her runner up smile, it still fell flat to those that knew her. Courtney cried enough for the both of them though. And she had the decency to not mention how sad Brooke’s eyes looked.
Vanjie did not have the same decency.
Brooke had told her already that she wasn’t going to win. After one of their many sexual encounters after the breakup, they had been lying in bed, Brooke tracing the crown on Vanessa’s chest, trying to come to grips with her life without it. Vanessa asked who she thought had the best chance. Brooke told the truth. Vanessa nodded slowly, and brushed a tear Brooke did even know she had let fall, off her face. That night, Vanessa had been the one to hold Brooke. Their height difference be damned.
Vanjie cautiously approached Brooke, as if she were a predator waiting to attack. Brooke’s soft smile in return didn’t meet her eyes. Vanjie sat beside her on the couch where hours prior they had watched the finale.
Jose spoke softly, “How are you?”
Brock chuckled, but there was no mirth behind it. “I’m fine. Yvie is a great winner-“
“Wait hold up, hoe. I should have been clear.” Jose looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in what felt like nine months. “How are you? And, I don’t want any of that pageant bullshit.”
Brock could feel tears prick at the edge of his eyes; he could hear the ever present voice in his head yelling at him to not let them fall. That voice had been yelling the same damn thing for thirty three years now, it’s about time someone shut it up.
Brock could hardly hold back a sob as he spoke “I am fine. Yvie is going to do amazing things with the crown…”
Brock’s sentence cut off due to the fact that he was now crying. He hadn’t given himself permission to. But, it seems he doesn’t really have much say over himself when Jose is around.
His makeup was running and the beautiful dress he bought just for this night was probably ruined, but Jose held him. And whispered words that didn’t compute, but were nice to hear.
They stayed like that for what felt like the entire season 11 tour.