The Gun, a mysterious skin fanfic

Alright everyone, got another fo Mysterious Skin. Mind you I'm as sick as a dog while I write this, but hopefully it's still good. Anyway, while you're reading this it REALLY is best if you listen to the song at the same time. You can youtube it. The song is The Gun by Lou Reed. Once you hear it, then you'll understand more about why I picked it. So, yeah, as usual hope that you enjoy it and leave a review.

Brian has a gun.

The man has a gun

He knows how to use it

He turns it over, feels the weight of the weapon in his hand. He's stolen it from his mother's box in her closet. He's been looking at the gun for over an hour, smooth lines, the wooden grip.

Nine millimeter browning

Let's see what he can do

He points it at the mirror, the barrel of the gun is pointed at his head. He looks at it again, lets it rest in both hands. He understands the real weight of the weapon, understands that to use it is making a decision that he can never take back.

He'll point at your mouth

Say that he'll blow your brains out

Don't you mess with me

It's been two days since Christmas Eve, aliens, blood, the usual has been roiling in his head. Neil has told him the truth. He had felt a sense of unity with other people that had sighted UFOs but no more. He is just some twisted, sexually abused kid. He is just some kid that got taken advantage of by some freak.

Carrying a gun

He understands that it is not his fault. He understands that taking his life will not make things better but decidedly worse. However, he cannot bear looking in the mirror. He sees large hands covering his body, carefully taking off his baseball uniform. A crisp five dollar bill is clutched in little Neil's fingers.

Don't you mess with me

Brian sees a part of his soul clenched tightly in the hands of his rapist and he can't ever get it back.

Carrying a gun

Did his father know? Brian's memory is so shoddy, maybe his father had been in on it and he'd just never known.

The gun is in his mouth. It is cool on his tongue. He pushes it farther in but then thinks of some guy's dick. He wonders if it is a brief memory, either way the gun is quickly removed. He puts it beneath his chin. He could look up while he pulls the trigger, skyward, and never see the end coming.

Don't mess with me

Ooohhh, carrying a gun

He looks back at the mirror and puts the gun down on his bed. He takes off his sweater vest, unbuttons his shirt. His skin is pale, he runs his hand over his body, just to make sure he is real. There is flesh and blood there, beneath that muscle, bone, functioning organs. All except one.

His hand flies to his hair and he pulls tightly until he grits his teeth, breathes harshly through his nose. Everything is fine except for his fucked up brain, all those dreams, not even real. He lets go, grabbing the gun and pointing it to his heart. He is crying and he can see his whole body shaking in the mirror.

Get over there

Move slowly

I'll put a hole in your face

If you even breathe a word

Tell the lady to lie down

He is not going to fucking seize, not again, never again.

"Brian, Neil is here to see you."

Fear grips him, and he puts the gun under the bed. He hears quick footsteps, the door opens. It is Neil. Neil looks at his chest, sees that he is still shaking.

I want, ah, you to be sure to see this

I wouldn't want you to miss a second

Watch your wife

Carrying a gun

Shooting with a gun

Dirty animal

"Hey," Neil says simply.

"Hi, Neil."

They are quiet and then they both decide to sit on the bed. They lie back down, looking up at his ceiling. His shaking stops. They lie like that for what seems a good slice of forever. Brian isn't thinking of anything, his mind blessedly blank. He feels a hand press against his own, gripping tightly.

He hears sobs, hitches of breath. He opens his eyes, see that he is not the one crying. Neil is shaking, still clutching his hand. Tears leak from the boy's eyes, down the side of his face absorbed into his mattress.

"We're so fucked up," the dark haired teen says.

Brian says nothing but squeezes the hand. He agrees.

"Wish I'd never said anything to you...aliens were better."

"No, I'm glad that I know the truth." Brian hears his voice but it doesn't sound like him. It sounds like his voice is coming from far away. He sits up and then stands. He goes beneath his bed and brings out the gun. He hands it to Neil. The other boy looks at it, pretends to point it at his head. The tears stop and a calm steals over Neil's expression.

Carrying a gun

Watch your face

Carrying a gun

"I'm tired of this place too, Brian."

The animal dies with fear in his eyes

With a gun

The two of them look at one another. Would it be better this way, to end it all? Brian looks at the gun pressed to Neil's temple. He crawls on the bed and curls his hand around Neil's. Brian decides that maybe he doesn't want to die, if only to stay with the other boy. He presses his lips to Neil's forehead.

"You really wanna go? But you're so..."

"So what?"

Brian blushes, his cheeks, he is certain, are pink. "You're...beautiful."

Neil scoffs, a cynical smirk on his lips. "Right."

"No, really. You're messed up but...but you're still in the world. You're not scared, not like me."

"That's not fair. Why would you fuckin' say that?"

"I'll stay, if you do."

"Or we could both go."

"Neil...then...let me do it."

Brian takes the gun from Neil's hand. He points it at Neil, right at his forehead. He pretends that he's not about to shoot Neil, that he is not about to commit murder. His hands are shaking. The gun falls to his side. He presses his hand against Neil's cheek, kisses his mouth. Neil does nothing but lets one arm wrap around the other boy's waist. Brian pulls away to look Neil in the eye.

Don't touch him, don't touch him

Stay away from him, he's got a gun

"We're staying."

Neil bites his lip and then lets his head rest against Brian's shoulder. "Okay."

The gun is forgotten. They lie back down on the bed. Their hands find one another again. Brian does not understand his actions, does not understand what is to happen next. He's fucked up. He's very, very fucked up. Neil squeezes his hand as if hearing his thoughts. He squeezes back. He'll probably never kiss Neil again, probably never hold his hand after tonight. He will probably have nosebleeds, seize at painful memories.

But he'll never have to worry about disappointing Neil, the boy is beautiful but he's fucked up too.

And that somehow works, better than bullets. It's painfully beautiful, like a dying flower, like trodden snow, the last of a sunset, the night sky when a million stars are out. It's delicious and bitter and fucking real. It works so well and Brian can finally breathe.