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It's almost two in the morning when I open the door to the loft and finally get home.
I've barely had time to remove my shoes and drop my bag on the floor when Brian appears in my line of sight.
He's still wearing a suit and dress shoes, probably what he wore to work today, and he has a half-empty glass in his hand. So he's been drinking.
-"Where the fuck have you been?", he asks, in a tone I know so well. The tone he uses when he's faking patience and calmness.
-"Out.", I say, not really in the mood for what's about to happen.
Brian looks at me, studies my entire body, my face, my clothes. My shirt is a little ripped and I have paint all over my jeans.
I take a step toward the kitchen, open the fridge and pull out a bootle of water. I walk to the sofa but Brian starts talking and it stops me in my tracks.
-"Did you forget how to use your fucking cellphone? I called you three fucking times in the last two hours."
-"I didn't see your calls."
-"Bullshit. You never not see my calls. What the fuck happened tonight ?"
He sounds angry. And I know Brian. I know he's probably been worried for hours when I didn't answer his calls, wondering why he couldn't get a hold of me. And, honestly, I do feel kind of guilty about having worried him. But sooner or later, he's going to have to understand that he can't control everything that ever happens.
-"I was with a few people from PIFA. We did a graffiti painting over a billboard from the Senator's campaign."
I stop there for a second and he looks at me, not saying anything, knowing there's more, waiting for me to go on.
-"But the cops saw us", I add quickly, like it's no big deal, "and we had to run to escape from them."
Brian looks at me and takes a deep breath, so deep I can actually see his lungs expand then go back to their original size.
-"You got chased by cops for vandalising a politician's campaign and then you were unreachable for three fucking hours?!"
He's pacing now, voice rising. I can feel all this energy radiating off of him. I don't say anything.
-"Do you think you're gonna save the world with your little spray cans and slogans? What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"
This gets me going.
-"I'm trying to prove that I give a shit. That what happens affects me and my friends and my whole community! But what the fuck would you know about that."
I mutter that last part, knowing it's the part that's going to get me a reaction out of Brian.
-"What does that mean?", he asks, his voice cold and even.
-"It means that you don't fucking care about anything as long as it doesn't affect you personally. People you talk to every fucking day could be hurting but, hey, if it doesn't impact Brian Kinney, why should it matter?"
I'm raising my voice at that point, feeling like I need to scream it in his face so he can understand how frustrated I am.
-"You know that's not true.", he says, sounding almost hurt by what I just said.
And the truth is, I do. I know it's not true and I know it's just a facade that people might think is true. Other people, that is. People who don't see Brian for the kindhearted, loyal man that he is. People who aren't me. But in that moment, I don't have the emotional high ground it takes to remember that.
-"Well you can't control my life. If I want to go out and smash the fucking windows of the senator's car and spray paint 'fuck you' across his front door, I'm gonna do it. You don't get to decide whether the decisions I make for my life are good enough or not!"
He turns to look at me then, and I can see I've said something that makes him feel. Don't ask me 'feel what?'. Just.. feel.
"-You think this is about fucking control?", he snaps. "What the fuck do I care about what you do in your life? It's yours! Make your own fucking mistakes and learn from them like every other goddamn human being on the planet! This is about me not wanting you to spend your fucking thursday night being chased by cops! This is about me having watched you almost die once already and not wanting to do it again!", he explodes finally, slamming his now empty glass on the counter.
The glass breaks, pieces shattering all over the floor.
I startle at the sudden sound. Brian curses.
-"Fuck. Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."
Then he looks at me, at my feet. I can see the alarm in his eyes.
-"Do not move. Stay right there."
Brian is still wearing shoes but I'm barefoot. He crosses the room quickly and comes back with my slippers. He sets them down on the ground next to my feet and waits for me to put them on. Then he takes my hand in his and guides me to the couch. He sits down next to me for a second and analyses me from head to toe, looking for any injury I might have gotten because of the glass.
Once he seems convinced that I am not hurt, he stands up and goes to clean the glass. I'm still sat on the couch, kind of out of it because of the argument and because of the unexpected noise of the glass breaking. Sharp, sudden. But I can hear him behind me, swiping the floor and removing pieces of glass from the counter.
He comes back to me a few minutes later and extends his hand toward me. I look up at him, just silently staring for a few seconds.
-"Come on.", he says, "Let's go to bed."
He says it so softly, like he knows we both need a bit of tenderness after the last few hours.
I put my hand in his and he pulls me close to his body. He guides me to the bathroom, through the bedroom. We undress quietly. I step into the shower first and turn the water on, waiting for it to reach the perfect temperature. Brian joins me. We practically don't talk at all, this all happens in silence. And weirdly enough, the atmosphere is pretty peaceful, relaxing.
Brian washes my hair delicately, he massages my scalp just the way I like it. He kisses the nape of my neck, my shoulder blades. Then I turn around and wash his body, his back, his arms. He kisses my forehead.
We get out and dry off before putting pyjamas on.
-"I'm still mad at you", I say, looking straight at him.
-"I know. I'm still mad at you too.", he answers.
He comes closer to me, takes my hand in his, and pulls me toward the bed. He lies down and I lie down next to him. He pulls the covers over our bodies and cuddles close to me, his chest glued to my back, his arms wrapped around my body.
I never feel as safe as I do in these moments, when all my senses are just Brian Brian Brian. He tightens his hold and I relax completely, slipping into a peaceful sleep. And I can't wait to wake up tomorrow and continue this argument with him.
Because he might be a fucking asshole sometimes, screaming and throwing shit just for a dramatic effect, but I know he only does it because he worries about me. And that's just the way he shows love. So we are gonna finish this argument tomorrow, we are gonna say all the shit we feel about this situation and then, we are going to be okay. Even better, we are going to grow as partners because we'll have learned something from this.
And that's just how life goes when you are in a relationship with the Brian Kinney. Chaos. Drama. Glass on the floor. But always, always love.