Since I Left You

By Violet Jones

1. The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret

I walk up to the door hesitantly, and pause before knocking. It’s not that I’m afraid to go in, I’m just slightly worried that everyone

will be too damn nice to me like they have been lately. And then… if Brian shows up, well I don’t even want to think about all the

whispering conjectures. All the tension, and absurdity. What the hell. I’m not staying out here. So, I knock.

“Sunshine!,” exclaims Debbie as she opens the door. I step into the house, and she puts a hand to the side of my face, and adds softly,

“I’m so glad you decided to come, sweetie.”

“I told you I would,” I smile.

It’s funny how everyone seems to think I’m so fragile after the break-up. First off, it’s been four months. Second, Brian and I are fine.

We’re actually friends. But no one knows as much. Yet. If Brian does in fact finish his report in time, tonight will be the first time any

of the gang will see us together since that night. It’s bound to produce interesting reactions. Meanwhile, I am forced to endure thinly

veiled looks of pity and encouragement, and remarks burning with ‘You’ll make it through this’ sentiment.

Debbie just pats my arm and smiles in response. “Justin’s here!,” she yells towards the kitchen, which is completely unnecessary since

it’s only ten feet away, and everyone has already seen me. The tribe is completely assembled it appears. All except Brian.

I settle into a seat between Mel and Emmett.

“Where’s Gus?,” I ask Mel.

“We left him with a sitter. We’re going out after dinner. We needed a break,” she tells me.

“Oh,” I say slightly disappointed, “Maybe I’ll come see him tomorrow.”

“That’d be great. Come by any time after 3:00.”

“All right.”

Something to look forward to. I don’t see Gus enough anymore. Not for the reasons Linds and Mel think. Just that I’ve been really

busy. I stop by and take care of him from time to

time, but not half as much as I used to. I miss Gus a lot.

“So, where’s Ethan?,” Emmett asks me.

Shit. Another person I miss a lot. He’s hardly ever around. Well, I’m hardly ever around either. We’ve both been too involved with

our respective arts to take too much time for one another. Actually, I think it’s one of the things that keeps us together. I mean, I like

Ethan a lot, but at first when we got together we saw each other too much. He was so fucking fantastic every minute of every day, that

I couldn’t stand it. I was about ready to kill him, so I just buried myself in my work. Suddenly I was wonderfully inspired. And around

the same time, Ethan was inundated with recitals, competitions, practice, and it seemed he too was suddenly inspired to compose. It

has been a highly productive last couple of months for both of us.

“He’s in Philadelphia recording a piece with an orchestra,” I reply.

“Wow,” Ted puts in. “That sounds fantastic.”

“Yeah. He’s really excited about it.”

The pre-dinner chit-chat continues for about fifteen minutes, before Deb pipes up, “Should we start?”

“I don’t know,” Michael states, pausing momentarily to give me his version of a discreet look. “I’m not sure if Brian’s gonna make it.

He’s not answering his phone.”

I don’t say anything, because Brian didn’t say for a fact that he was coming. There was no need to open my mouth merely to concur

with Mikey.

“Well, we can wait ten more minutes. Then he’s screwed,” Deb retorts with a signature ‘that fuckin’ Kinney’ look.

“So, Justin, are you working on any new pieces?,” Lindsay asks.

“Yes, actually. I just started-,” I’m cut off by the ringing of my cel phone. “Sorry,” I say to Linds, looking at the call display. Brian. I

feel myself smirking.

“Hello?”

“How’s the slaughter coming along?,” he asks in a playful tone.

“Surprisingly well. Not too much slaughtering,” I smile.

“Good,” Brian muses. “Just imagine the awkwardness we’re about to endure once I walk in the door.”

“So you ARE coming,” I state without heed.

“I am. I am,” he says in a bored manner. “I said I would,” he echoes my earlier response to Deb. This makes me smile again.

“Good,” I say. “Where are you?”

“Patience young one. I’m walking out of the loft as we speak. Stall the proceedings.”

“What should I say?”

“Say, ‘Brian is coming. Wait for him.’ You aren’t very bright after all,” he jokes.

“Fuck you. I just didn’t know how secretive you wanted to be.”

“Well I’m going to be there in about 10 minutes. What the fuck does ‘secretive’ have to do with anything?”

“Oh, fuck off. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, Sonny Boy. I know what you mean. I’ll be there shortly.”

“All right. Hurry,” I add, hanging up the phone.

I put my cel phone back in my pocket, and look up to find the whole group staring at me. Of course. They were listening to my every

word. Might as well get it over with.

“Brian’s coming. He should be here in like ten minutes.”

Silence was maintained for almost a solid minute before Michael spoke.

“Brian called YOU?”

Typical. Michael can be such a common idiot sometimes. We’ve been getting along lately too. We patched things up around the same

time I patched things up with Brian. I think perhaps Brian had something to do with it. Inadvertently. As always. Of course, Mikey’s

always had those random pangs of jealousy towards me where Brian is concerned. With obvious reason. I don’t think he wants Brian

to fuck him anymore, but he still thinks he has some ultimate claim to him. As many times as he tries to convince me that Brian loves

me, it’s still as if he himself doesn’t quite believe it. Or he doesn’t want to.

“Yeah,” I finally state simply. I’ll play nice.

“Well, I guess we can wait a bit longer,” Debbie says trying to break the tension. She looks over at Vic, begging him with her eyes to

change the subject.

“It’s a good thing I stayed awake for this one,” he blurts out.

Laughter erupts around the table, and I feel so silly right now. I plaster on a half-smile which I’m sure advertises my discomfort, and I

look at Mikey, who is the picture of disgruntled. His scowl almost makes me laugh too.

Wonderful. Wonderful to have to feel so fucking silly, and awkward when there’s absolutely nothing the matter. This is precisely what

I’ve been trying to avoid. And, I think Brian agrees with me. Kind of not clueing anyone in that we get along just so we can try to

maintain this new friendship without anyone standing over us saying this and that, and scaring us off. Running us away. They help

every once in a while, but usually they just make it worse.

Lindsay is kind enough to remember her earlier inquiry, and she gets me talking about my latest art pieces.

Soon enough, time has zoomed by, and low and behold, Brian comes barging in without knocking.

“I’m fucking starving,” he says, sighing dramatically and grabbing a chair.

“Hey!,” everyone bursts out at once looking at him expectantly.

He looks over the crowd with a skeptical expression on his face, and finally his eyes settle on me. I’m sure that by now, I’m looking

like I want to disappear. Luckily he catches on.

“Justin, can I talk to you for a second?,” he asks me.

“Sure.” I shoot out of my seat, and make for the backdoor. Brian follows me out, amidst the gaping faces, full of confusion.

I can just imagine them inside. ‘Does anyone know what’s going on?’ ‘When did they patch things up?’ ‘Has anyone seen them

together?’ ‘Are they fucking?’ ‘Are they back together?’ ‘Were they ever together in the

first place?’ ‘What about Ethan?’ And no one has the answers.

I let out a long breath, that I’d been holding.

“What’s wrong?,” Brian asks placing his hand on the back of my neck.

I can’t stand these familiar gestures sometimes. I like him touching me like everything’s okay, but it also saddens me a bit. It makes

me want more. God. He looks so fucking hot tonight. Of course he always does. He’s only wearing a red T-shirt, and black jeans, but

damn. It’s enough for him. Enough to make him irresistible. I hate that about him sometimes. I mean, sometimes I think that he’s too

sexy. Too easy to want. Too easy to fuck. Sometimes I wish he looked more average. Just a tad. Maybe that would make this easier.

Maybe.

“Nothing,” I tell him, pausing. “I mean nothing is wrong, but they just make me feel like something’s wrong.

Like they can’t figure us out, so we have to suffer through their assumptions.”

“They don’t know shit. Don’t let it get to you.”

“I know,” I say honestly. “It’s just that they make me doubt everything.”

“Don’t,” Brian states simply. “They’ve made me doubt everything a thousand times over, but I learned to just stop, because it doesn’t

matter. All that matters is you. You know what’s going on. They don’t. End of story. I’ll handle it.”

I have to smile at that, because I know exactly what his methods of handling it are. “By letting them use their imaginations, and think

whatever they want?”

“Exactly,” he smiles.

“I’m SO onto you,” I kid him with a shove.

“We knew that a long time ago,” he replies, surprising me. Probably surprised himself to, judging by his expression.

I just smile and giggle a bit. Brian grabs me and hugs me, giving me a fierce kiss on the cheek. He’s just full of surprises tonight.

He pulls away, and grabs my hand, pulling me towards the door, “Come on.”

He opens the door, and holds it open for me. As I walk past him, he swats my ass.

“Hey!” I catch Brian’s mischievous grin. “None of that old man!” I wag my finger at him, trying not to smile.

“So you think,” he says cryptically.

The table is now full of food, and everyone seems to be intrigued by the two of us. They were so obviously talking about us the entire

time, because right about now, no one is saying a word. Then I spot two empty chairs right next to one another, just waiting for Brian

and I to sit in. Brian gives me a knowing look, and I

laugh, mumbling “How discreet.”

Brian, never missing an opportunity to toy with his friends’ minds, pulls out a chair for me. I roll my eyes at him, and sit down,

beginning to look at this situation with Brian’s subtle amusement. This could definitely be fun. Brian finally sits down, and we seem

to be the only ones in motion. We fold our napkins in our laps.

“Bon apetite!,” we say in unison. Then we look at each other, and laugh wholeheartedly. It was as if we had a script, when in fact it

was just a small silly tradition we’d shared over our year of living together. We’d mastered saying it together after less than a month.

Don’t know what the hell brought us to say it just now. I guess it’s just habit with us. I’ve never said it with anyone else. Especially

not Ethan. Everyone is probably wondering what the hell is going on.

“What the hell is going on?,” Deb demands loudly, interrupting our fit of giggles. I snap my head to the left to look at her, and decide

that Brian should do the talking. I poke him in the ribs to let him know.

“It’s just this thing we do. Pay no attention,” he says airily. I can’t believe how nonchalant he’s being. The last couple of weeks, Brian

seemed to be more upbeat than he’d ever seen him. Well, at least in a long time. There was a period months and months ago, when

Brian was in a great mood for weeks. Right before he made partner. It seemed like everything was going better than good up until

then. I shake my head a bit to try and forget those memories. The last thing I want to do is think about that shit right now. Brian has

been happy lately, and tonight seems to be the apex of his good mood.

“Cut the bullshit!,” Deb’s voice slices through his thoughts. She wags her finger at Brian. “You know what I mean. What’s with the

sudden chumminess?”

“Why Deb, I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” he declares in his mocking tone. I can’t help but cackle at that.

“Don’t you fuckin’ laugh at me, Sunshine! I’ll string you up by your balls!” Now Brian starts laughing.

“What the hell are you two being so secretive about?”

“We’re not being fucking secretive about anything!,” Brian half-yelled. “It’s no one’s business anyway. Find something else to talk

about!”

“Honey,” Emmett leans in, “Ain’t nothin’ as interesting as you two to talk about.”

“Oh sure there is,” Brian counters. “Tell us all about those two hot guys you fucked at the baths the other night.”

“I didn’t fuck any guys at the baths,” Emmett says, confused.

“Oh yeah,” Brian replies, “That was me.”

I snort, and laugh again as Brian launches into a way-too-graphic-for-the-dinner-table tale that I’ve already heard, with less details,

about two buff guys in their early twenties that bottomed out for Brian at the baths last Tuesday. Everyone just ate, and looked either

disgusted or excited, and they were probably thinking that they were wrong after all.

After dinner, Brian asks me if I need a ride home. I got dropped off by Daphne.

“Yeah,” I accept, grabbing my backpack.

“Brian,” Mikey calls as Brian reaches the door.

I turn to see him glaring at Brian with the patented Michael Novotny look of confused wonder and disapproval. Oh how he hates me

sometimes. I don’t get him at all. Truly. I mean, we can get along pretty well. I don’t know why the hell he has to get all up in arms

about Brian and me all the time. Shit. He’s starting to make me angry all over again. Apparently, Brian isn’t up for an inquisition at

the moment.

“Not now, Mikey,” he tosses out. He looks at me, imploring me to hurry up and get out of there. I turn and say bye to everyone, and

make my way to the door. As I walk past Brian, he gives me another swat on the ass, before turning to wave. “Happy gossip time!,” he

exclaims sarcastically, closing the door behind him.

In the car I burst out laughing.

“What?,” he asks with an amused smile.

“It’s just funny how everything always has to be drama.”

“We’re fags with undeniably complicated lives. It’s drama central, baby. What do you expect?”

“Nothing. I just find it all pretty hilarious.”

Brian laughs then. “It is fucking funny. We should laugh about our shit more often.”

“Yeah. It would be a nice alternative,” I say a bit more seriously than I intended.

It’s weird thinking about all these things, and even kind of talking about them with Brian. I mean we always know what we’re really

talking about whether we admit it or not. Lately, we’ve been stumbling into these kinds of conversations where we almost talk about

us, but not really. He’s right. We are too complicated. He changes the subject.

“It’s too goddamn early to go home. You interested in hitting the clubs with your old flame?”

“Did you just call yourself old?” I can’t resist teasing him.

“Fuck you, kid. You know what I meant,” he smirks.

I laugh a bit, and think about it. It’s fine being friends with Brian. At least at the moment. However, seeing him pick up tricks has

never been high on my list of fun activities, and it still isn’t. I hesitate a bit too long.

“I promise to be good,” he assures me.

That means ‘I won’t go out of my way to pick up any guys’, in Brian-speak.

“Okay.” I give in easily once he removes my doubt.

2. Do You Realize?

It was hard for me to fall into this friendship with Justin. Really hard. I couldn’t even look at him at first. Didn’t want to have anything

to do with him. But we managed to get through that. Not that I would have allowed myself to go on feeling that way about him after

too long. For whatever reasons, we were able to move on from that night. I love being able to talk to him, and open up to him

somewhat, and joke around lightheartedly. But the ‘No sex’ policy we have kills me every time. I’m not even allowed to kiss him on

the lips. It takes all the self-restraint I can muster not to lunge at him and rip his clothes off at any given moment. Little scenarios keep

popping into my head where I take Justin roughly and fuck him so hard he blows a gasket. I’ve actually caught myself in the middle of

Justin fantasies quite a lot recently. It’s ludicrous the way my mind’s been working. As if it’s against me, rooting for Justin. My mind

is truly an evil thing.

I understand the rules though. They’re to prevent further drama. It’s like we silently agreed in the car: It’s nice to look at it all as funny

sometimes, but in the end, we can’t really laugh it off. Plus, Justin still has the fiddle player in his life. That fucking Ethan. I’ve made

sure to never say his name, as if I can’t be bothered to remember it. But I know it all too well. Ethan fucking Gold. With his

ridiculously romantic classical music, and his staggering eloquence at voicing his ‘feelings’. How could I forget the name of the guy

who took away what was mine? What should still be mine. Of course, I don’t blame him. I don’t blame Justin either. Not anymore.

Maybe a little. But mostly I blame myself. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do with Justin now. Make it up to him somehow. Build his

trust again. Build MY trust again. Get him back one day. Whenever we’re both more ready. As for now, we keep it as simple as

possible. So that’s why ‘NO SEX’. Fucking right.

“Hit me with your hot stuff,” Justin says in a saucy sexual voice, and a facial expression to match.

We both laugh loudly.

“Fill me with your sweetness,” Brian huffed out.

We laugh even louder. His body is bending slightly forward, cajoling to and fro. I feel other people near the

bar giving us looks.

“You should’ve slapped his face with your dick, and kicked him out of bed,” Justin said, still laughing.

“That was counter-productive to my goals. By laughing in his face, I still got my dick sucked, and he felt like a fool,” I rationalize.

“Too much. Guys will say anything.”

“We should know.” I signal the bartender for another round.

We knock back two more double Absoluts, and then I lean in close to Justin. “Let’s dance.”

“Like David Bowie?,” he smiles.

“What do you know about Bowie?” I can’t resist mocking him.

“You taught me well enough.”

“Indeed. I think I did a few things right.”

“A few,” he states in agreement.

“Come on.” I pull him to the dance floor.

I’ve always loved dancing with Justin. It’s kind of liberating. We don’t have to ruin anything with conversation. We don’t have to

pretend everything is all right. We just are. Together. But… now, even dancing is hard to do with Justin. There’s usually overt lust

involved in the act. However, now that sex is avoided, the dancing is subdued, toned down, and frankly a bit lacking. It’s hard for me

to look into his eyes, and not grind up against him and smother him with kisses. Justin has always managed to look particularly hot

when he’s dancing. And he would glare at me with lust-filled blue eyes. If I’m not mistaken, he’s giving me that look at this moment.

Shit. He is so… Stop! No sex! NO SEX! Deep breath. Maybe we shouldn’t dance. Why is he looking at me like that? Fuck. Well, I

guess if I still want him, there must be a part of him that still wants me. I mean, that part of our relationship was always fine. More like

spectacular. Justin and I could definitely have amazing sex. Always. Shit. No sex! No sex!

I finally find my voice, and stop staring into his eyes. “Let’s get another drink.”

“Yeah,” he says with what seems to be a mixture of relief and regret. Join the fucking club.

As we reach the bar he does something that catches me completely off guard. Grabbing my right arm, he abruptly turns me to face

him, and leans in about an inch away from my face.

“Just one kiss,” he says softly before reaching my lips.

This is more like it. I put my arms around his neck as he grabs onto my waist, and it feels so… comfortable and familiar. It’s

reminiscent, but it also seems like the greatest kiss we’ve ever shared. It has a hunger and a desperation in it that bleeds over from an

ache longing to be relieved. A sudden filling of space after a long dull absence. It speaks volumes more than “I miss you” ever could. I

tug at the hair on the back of his head, as his hands begin to stroke my back and grip my sides with more force. I could do this for a

long time, and never get tired. Of course, what I’d really like is to take him home right now and fuck him ‘til he can’t walk for a week,

but as it is… we shouldn’t be jumping that far ahead. Too much drama. I’m sure he’d agree. For now I just have to be content with

being allowed to kiss him. That’s just peachy. His mouth feels so good. Like silk and velvet. And he tastes… exactly the same. The

Justin taste.

But the moment is lost as quickly as it came, when I hear someone directly behind me clear their throat, and say, “My my, I think I

win the bet!” Emmett. I have no doubt in my mind that I will turn around to find the Three Stooges.

The kiss is broken by this unforeseen invasion. Fuckers. I turn around, and the three of them are looking at us expectantly as if some

declaration is going to be made.

“Right on time, boys,” I say with deliberate annoyance, “As usual.”

I look back at Justin. He’s still looking at me. I try to think of a way to get him to stay, but of course Mikey pipes up.

“I thought you were going home?” He’s giving me that pleading look, like he’s wishing he didn’t find me here, and somehow I can

make up an answer like, ‘Yeah, I AM at home.’ What the fuck does he expect? I mean, if Justin weren’t with me, sucking my face, he

would’ve said, ‘Brian! I thought you were going home! Let’s get a drink!’ He gets so insecure about Justin. I wanna strangle him

sometimes.

“Uh, obviously I changed my mind.” I look at him like he’s retarded.

I look over at Justin again. He looks really uncomfortable now. I’m afraid he’s going to just up and leave. But he seems almost rooted

to the spot.

I turn back to Mikey. “It’s a good thing you’re here. Justin and I have had a few too many.” I know it’s the totally wrong thing to say,

but he angers me at times like these. And that makes me lash out.

“Don’t look at me,” he says. “I just got here, and I’m not about to drive you two home so you can fuck!”

Good one Mikey. I close my eyes and exhale sharply. “Fuck. You.”

I grab Justin’s hand and pull him towards the exit. Once we’re outside he just stands there studying my face.

“What?” I ask him a tad harshly.

He smiles. “I just don’t understand you half the time.” Uh, okay. “I don’t understand you most of the time.” He smiles again. “But

sometimes you surprise me, and throw away what little understanding I had in the first place.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” What the fuck IS he talking about? “You’re not THAT drunk.”

He starts walking away from me, like he’s exasperated that I don’t get it. He’s being so goddamn cryptic though. I guess we both have

been lately. I walk after him a short distance before reaching out to stop him. He turns to look at me and doesn’t offer a word of

explanation. He leans back against the lamppost behind him, and never breaks eye contact. I’m about to attempt another inquiry, when

I realize where we are standing. What Justin is leaning against. This is the exact spot where we met. Well, not exactly met, so to

speak. There were no introductions made. This is the spot where we saw one another for the first time. The spot where we first spoke.

The spot where we first wanted each other. The spot. This makes me smile.

“Do you know where you’re standing?” I ask him.

“What?” he asks me confused.

I put my hands on either side of his head and look deep into his eyes.

“This is the spot you were standing on the first time I laid eyes on you. This is where it all began.”

“You remember?” he says quizzically.

“Of course I remember.” I pause. “I can remember lots of things,” I tell him, quoting his biggest guilty pleasure movie, ‘Sixteen

Candles’.

He laughs as I intended, and replies same as the film, “That’s nice, dear.”

So we’re standing here smiling like fools, remembering all this shit, and now I can’t think why we’re not together. I really can’t. I

mean, I know we’ve got our problems. Mainly, closed lines of communication. But aside from all the bullshit, I know we could work

it out somehow. We should. If we didn’t, then what was all that time for? All of it for what? All just to be thrown away? All just

memories never to be touched again, like this one? Like this fucking lamppost?

“What am I going to do with you?” I ask him. I really wish he could tell me.

“You’ll figure it out,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Without a kiss?” I’m trying to milk this for all it’s worth.

He smiles, and leans in kissing me briefly. “There.”

“Okay.” We start walking to the jeep.

“Can you drive?,” he asks me.

“That’s what my license says,” I smirk.

“Asshole. Are you intoxicated?”

“What do you think?”

“You seem fine.”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

We get in, and I drive him home without another word. Home to him is now his mom’s place. I feel bad for that. He must be going

crazy. One more reason he should come back to me. I got so used to having him around. Once he was gone, it hit me that I actually

liked it. Having him there was an inexplicable feeling of comfort, belonging, and warmth. I miss him the most at the loft. I can always

feel his absence in that bed. Even when there’s another body there. It’s just a body. It’s not Justin. It might as well be empty.

3. Everything Hits at Once

Shit. It’s been two days, and no sign of him. Not a fucking word. No phone call. No stopping by for a change of clothes. I don’t know

what I expected, but this wasn’t it. I thought I could manage. I thought I could push him just far enough, so he’d maybe realize what

the hell was best for him. That maybe it wasn’t me. I’m always bringing him down. Even when he’s riding high, I always bring him

down whenever I feel like it. It’s like he’s right in my hand, tap-dancing. And I thought I liked it that way. For too long, I was selfish

with him. I did whatever the fuck I wanted with him and everyone else. And when he started coming home with these silly notions in

his head that I would somehow just give into him; destroy the little dynamic we have going, I knew he didn’t need me to keep doing

this to him. I couldn’t keep him, no matter how much I really wanted to. When I found out about the fiddler, I knew it was the perfect

chance for him. Not to find the love his life, or any shit like that, but to take a different path. Learn some shit on his own. Be

something better, without the weight of my ass dragging him down.

He may think I’m wrong, but I know I’m right. He doesn’t understand that yet. The mentality of a 19-year-old is one of ‘here, now,

everything’. There’s almost no real perspective of future. It’s just something that’ll happen one day. Here and now is fucking essential.

The end of the world comes so easily. One thing falls out of place, and boom. Dead. No fucking idea how to ever carry on. No way of

knowing how to adapt. That’s why he hasn’t been around. I know it. It’s not cuz he’s off fucking Fiddle Boy, it’s because it’s hit him

that this all changed. All of it. He’s probly fucking crying his eyes out to Fiddle Boy, and Fiddler is probably real sweet and

comforting. Doesn’t mind a bit that Justin’s crushed over me, the boyfriend. The ex, I guess. Funny, I finally acknowledge my role as

boyfriend after I’m already an ex. Ironic.

I know he’ll eventually come over here. All of his things are here, after all. And I’m making sure to be here when he finally does. I’ve

vowed to remain here until he shows up. No going to the office. No going to Woody’s. Definitely no Babylon. I could always walk

over to the diner to see him, but I have nothing to say to him in public. Actually, I kind of don’t want to see him at all right now. I

mean, yeah, his world has seemingly come to an end, and I know I’ll survive, but I still hurt. I’m still fucking angry as hell. More so

than Rage kicking homophobic ass in Gayopolis. Hey… why the fuck would homophobes hang around a place called Gayopolis

anyway? Hmmm… I’ll have to remind Mikey of that query. Skirting the issue. The point is that I may not queen out, and cry on

someone’s shoulder, and offer tales of what once was, but I still have a fucking heart. And a mind. And what the fuck does everyone

think, that I’m just gonna say: ‘On with the show’, and pretend nothing happened. That he was never here. No. Fuck that. I’m pissed.

I’m sad. I’m hurt. I need another drink. Or four or five.

People have been fucking calling me too. Calling me using that ‘sympathy tone’. And the funniest fucking thing about the calls is that

not one of them ever consisted of an actual conversation, which mentioned any of the events of the Rage party. Everyone dances

around: “How are you? Are you eating? Would you like to come over? Just calling to say ‘hi’. I just wanted to tell you this story…”

Fuck it’s like they fucking forgot him already. They try to act like I’m tough, and unfazed, yet they treat me like the most fragile thing

sometimes. Pick one or the other. That’s how it works. Can I handle it? Or will I fall down in a mess of cold limbs? I think I’ll pass on

the dramatics. I’ll just sit right here with Jimmy. The one that’s always there for me. I take another large gulp. Beautiful.

I’m right at the point of oblivion now. That drunken oblivion, when you reach this state ruled by complete lack of control, and

emotions poor out of you. False fucking emotions, mostly. It’s kind of like you’re acting. Something outside of you is feeding you the

lines, and you just say them, and make the appropriate expressions, and gestures. All this stuff spews out of your mouth. Just

meaningless words. Just fucking talking. And your thoughts are the same fucking thing. Just more controlled. No one there for you to

rant and rave at. So, you think things. Things you never think. Things you don’t give a fuck about, things you do. Things you

generally put out of your mind. And then, you try to put together little conjectures, and opinions about all these newfound thoughts.

It’s so far from honesty. People always fuckin’ say that when you’re drunk the truth comes out. That’s a mother-fucking lie. When

you’re drunk you’ll say anything to get your needs met. Whatever they are. You’re angry, you start a fight. You’re horny, you get

yourself laid. You’re philosophical, you sit down and start talking. It’s never the truth. Not in the real world. It may be in-the-moment

drunken truth, but that’s where it stays. In that fucking moment. But that moment seems like a fucking eternity. Stretches out so wide

you cannot see ever thinking straight again. And somehow you wake up with googly eyes, and a head full of heaviness. Sometimes,

your stomach tells you to fuck off straight away. It gets all fucked up good and proper just like you the night before. I wish I were

going through that right now. It would be way better than sitting on the floor with my drunken thoughts.

I look up at the bed, and I have to look away.

“Fuck that!” I say aloud to no one. I am not sleeping in that fucking bed right now. Not tonight. Fuck the reason why.

What is the reason why? Why can’t I sleep there? It’s my fucking bed! It was my bed way before that little shit ever slept in it! Mother

fuck this all to hell. I don’t want to have these ridiculous thoughts anymore. Fuck Justin. Fuck him if he doesn’t want me anymore.

Fuck him if I’m too much. Fuck him for being 19 years old. Fuck him for wanting more. For wanting something else. Something…

not me.

Didn’t I fucking know it from the start? Well, no. From the start I didn’t want him. He wouldn’t fucking leave back then. He kept on

coming back for more and more, and there I was the asshole of the world. And he fucking loved me anyway. Never said shit about

romance. Didn’t care. I guess once I knew that I cared… that’s when I knew he shouldn’t bother. I hung onto him for as long as I

could. Kept him in my hand, but what kind of person would I be if I didn’t give him an out? A ray of light. A choice. By the night of

that fucking party, I knew it wouldn’t be me. But I did somehow hope that he’d screw my plan to Hell and say: “I’m going with him”

again. Like he did the night we met. Just looked at me and said to Mikey: “I’m going with him.” What fucking confidence he had. But

it’s gone. All gone. Because of me. All me. I deserve this. Poetic Justice is what this is.

Fuck. Maybe I’m wrong about drunken truth. Maybe there’s more honesty in it than I thought. Cuz it all sort of makes sense now. I

can see it. These thoughts are all fucking valid. They are worth more than a drunken penny. Penny for my thoughts. HA! Whoever

walks in now will get a fucking Ben Franklin’s worth of my thoughts. Shit. They probably WOULD pay money to sit here and hear

me talk about my feelings. My views on this shit. People would fuckin’ line up to see that. To hear these things that I’m capable of

thinking. They all think I’m like sub-human or some shit. Like I’m a fucking robot. Literally. Well here’s the truth. Right here in the

privacy of my own empty fucking home.

Shit. I wish I could escape my thoughts now. I don’t wanna think about this anymore. No more. There’s nothing else to think about

either. No other pressing issues to get my mind on anything else. I’m pointlessly consumed. Though there must be a point. Must be

some of kind of reason to this madness. Sometime or another there will be some finality. An ultimate conclusion. At least until the

next one.

My brain keeps rattling away. Just fuckin’ thinkin’. More Beam. Nice.

I hear a loud sort of grinding metal noise, and wince, turning my head towards the sound. The door. Justin. Finally. Now. As I am out

of my right mind with intoxicants.

We kind of stare at each other for a minute. I suppose he expected to find the place empty. As in Brian-free.Fucking little twerp.

Trying to dodge bullets at this point is a tad late in the game.

He finally decides to come in, and he grinds the door closed once more.

“Fuck! Do you have to be so fucking noisy?” There goes my mouth. I don’t even have to try. It’s acting of it’s own volition now.

“I’m sorry if the door bothers you. It’s your fucking door. Try getting a real one if it’s so unbearable.”

Okay. Feisty. Angry. Good. Very good. Better than fall down mess. We only need one of those at the moment.

“Like you got a real boyfriend?” WHAT! “Just out with the old, in with the fucking new, huh?”

He looks at me from across the room with a flash of hurt. But his resolve is impressive.

“Fuck off, Brian. I didn’t come here to fight with you, I just need to get some stuff. I’ll be out of here in like 5 minutes,” he tells me,

walking towards the bedroom.

Why? To avoid me for fucking ever?

“Hey!” He turns around, slightly startled, and sighs. “What if I want to talk to you?”

“I’m not talking to you right now.”

“Why the fuck NOT?”

“I shouldn’t even have to answer that. Look at yourself. You’re a fucking mess! I can’t talk to you like that.”

“Fine. Don’t fucking talk to me. But sorry if that doesn’t stop me from saying a few things to you.”

Shit. Where is this going? What the hell am I going to say in this state?

“You happy now?” Not too bad.

He stops rifling through drawers, and looks shocked. He seems to be thinking it over.

“No,” his voice sounds so weak. But I hear him. “Not right now. How could I be happy right now?”

“I didn’t think you were yet. But, it’ll get better for you.”

“What about you?” He comes and sits on the steps leading to the bedroom. Maybe he’s decided I’m ok to speak to. “Are YOU happy

now?”

“What does it look like? You just said I look like a mess. You know I like looking slightly better than a mess.”

He smiles slightly. “Are you all right?” he asks meekly.

Am I all right? What the fuck kind of a question is that? Of course I’m not all right! We’ve just established that I’m unhappy. What

the hell is wrong with him?

“Fuck you!” I find myself yelling. “You don’t give a good goddamn what the fuck I’m feeling right now! If you did you wouldn’t

have left in the first place!”

He’s already crying. “You made me leave! It’s what you obviously wanted! You never even said so much as ‘Stay’!”

“Don’t put that shit on me! You’ve had one foot out the fucking door for months!”

“Oh really! Me! Right. What the fuck are you on? You never gave me a chance. Ever. You would give an inch and take a fucking mile

at every turn!”

“Shit. I knew you would try to justify it all by thinking that I never really cared. Well, I know you know me better than that! If I didn’t

care you would’ve been out of here so fucking long ago! As a matter of fact, if I didn’t care, you wouldn’t fucking be here TO BEGIN

WITH!”

Now he’s stopped crying. Now he just looks frozen. Doesn’t move a fucking inch. I can’t breathe.

“So what the fuck does that mean?” he asks me so softly. “You wouldn’t have saved my life? You think I fucking owe you something

because I got hit in the head and you had to watch, and you couldn’t be bothered with playing the hero? I wouldn’t be here if you

didn’t care. What a fucking comfort. You cared enough not to want me to die.”

“That’s not what I meant. Of course that’s not what I meant. I mean if I had stayed away you would’ve never moved in here to begin

with. That’s a fucking fact.”

“Maybe. What the fuck does that have to do with anything now? I mean, we’ve been through this already. You felt guilty, you brought

me here, you liked having me around, and then things got messy, so you washed your hands of it all. What does it matter what you

once did? What the fuck have you been doing lately?”

“What the fuck do you THINK I’ve been doing, knowing you’re out getting your kicks with someone else?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that one.

“Don’t sit there and look at me like I’m the prick in this situation without thinking about your little role in everything. I’ve been sitting

here for hours reminiscing on the whole damn thing. Everything since day one. I know what the fuck I’ve been doing. The point is you

have no fucking clue what you’ve been doing. It’s not your fault really, but you should try to find out what it is you’re going to do.

Without me.”

“So you did all this shit for my benefit without consulting me at all? You couldn’t just tell me?”

“I tried to tell you. You didn’t listen. I knew you wouldn’t. You were too used to hanging on.”

He smiles bitterly. “So that’s what you think of me? Some fucking kid hanging on?”

“In a way. That’s part of it. But, I’m the man who let you hang on. I had you in the palm of my hand the whole time.”

“Wow. Well, you sure know how to handle me, don’t you? You came up with your perfect ending, huh? How lucky that you can look

at it all like some little play you directed. That must be very nice for you.”

“Look… think whatever the fuck you want to think of me to get you through. Maybe you can convince yourself that I’m a monster.

Whatever works. Just leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you to come over here. Get your shit tomorrow

before I get home from work. Stay the fuck away from me.”

I see the tear roll down his cheek, but he tries to look strong. Hell, I’m trying to look strong.

“Just don’t go doing anything drastic. Be safe. If you really ever need me, I’m here. But, don’t take that lightly. You know what the

fuck I mean.”

He nods, and stands up. Without a word he walks to the door. Doesn’t leave with any of the things he came to get.

And my fucking mouth won’t let it go. It has to push. “Send the Fiddler my love. Give him a nice big kiss for me.”

He doesn’t turn around. Just opens the fucking door from Hell, and walks out. Doesn’t even bother slamming it shut. Doesn’t shut it at

all. It reminds me of something that some fucking trick said to me about not having locks on our doors, means leaving it open for

other people to walk in. Shit. I never thought that a trick could impart such wisdom. Turned into a fucking prophecy. And I sit here

staring at the wide open door he just walked out of.

Ties severed. Deed done. Message received.

Fuck me. I’m alone again. Have to endure my own circular thoughts as I wait for something to fucking strike me, so I can pass out. I’ll

just lay here now. On the dirty floor. Fine by me.

I hope he can take it. He’s taken everything else. I hope he can take this. Better than I can.

4. Red Eyes & Tears

“What are you doing?” I hear Ethan ask me after a long stretch of silence.

I look up and try to force a smile, which comes out half-assed. “Nothing. I’m just thinking.”

“About him,” he states factually. Like, what the fuck else could I possibly be pondering? But he doesn’t say it with resentment.

There’s no anger or sadness in his voice. He knows the score. He knows first-hand that I need time, and space. He knows I don’t need

another shitty boyfriend. He doesn’t want to alienate me just yet. Right at the fucking start. Funny how you never really think too

deeply about how every ending is a beginning. And every beginning is an end. Sure, it’s not a startling new paradox I’ve unearthed,

and I’m sure people think about it from time to time when there going through tough shit, but right now that whole concept seems cut

and dry to me. It’s so clear what’s ending and what’s beginning. I’m not quite sure what it all means yet, but the thought makes me

sad. Well, I’m already fucking sad. Have been for days. But, I’m not regretful. Not really. I’m sorry that it all went down the way it

did, but that wasn’t my fault. I was just reacting. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to talk to Brian, even though it was

practically impossible. I’m just sorry. For all of it. For both of us. But, I don’t regret it now. I shouldn’t have to.

“You know how the story goes,” I confirm.

“Look, all I’m gonna say is that I’ll be here for you.” He looks at me with a sincere mask of concern and understanding. Where did I

find this guy? Where did he come from? “I have a feeling you want to be alone right now. I know it’s kind of a reflective period for

you. So, I’m going out. Somewhere out there, some one is waiting eagerly to hear violin music played on a street-corner.” He kisses

me on top of my head, and moves to grab his coat, and his case. “Just remember that it will get better. You will get through this. I’ll

help you.” He smiles, and this time, so do I. In a way this is the standard bullshit people tell you to try and get you through these

things, but still, I need to hear it. And coming from him, it’s even more welcome.

“Thanks, Ethan. I appreciate all this,” I say.

“No worries,” he replies, and walks out the door.

I’ve been staying here with him the past few days, because well… he’s been so fucking helpful. Mostly, by just letting me be, and not

prodding me to do anything. It’s a nice feeling. One of the few nice feelings I’ve had in a long time. Eventually, though, I’m going

back to my mom’s. As soon as I feel confident enough to go back to her. I just don’t need her shit right now. I don’t want to hear shit

from anyone right now. Ethan can stay, because he actually listens to me. I need that. Everyone else will just give me pity looks, and

sermons, and nothing to go on. They’ll try to give me advice about how to handle this situation with Brian, thinking they know. They

don’t have a fucking clue in hell. None. I hardly do. But, I know enough to not even TRY to predict what he’ll do next. How he’ll

react.

Shit. I went over there last night, to get some of my things… just enough to get me by for a few more days. I figured he’d be out at

Woody’s by then. I wouldn’t have to worry about it. His jeep wasn’t out front in its usual spot. But, oh fuck, was I wrong.

He was so fucked up, I couldn’t believe it. Just sitting right there in the middle of the floor wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, with a

bottle of Jim Beam, looking lost and helpless. I didn’t really know what to do or say. Part of me was angry that he was just wasting

himself away in the usual fashion, but part of me was so fucking relieved, and even slightly happy. In a bittersweet sense. At least

seeing him like this meant he actually gave a fuck! He wasn’t pretending like nothing happened like most people would expect. He

was obviously hurt. Like me. He was sad. Like me. Angry like me. Unsure like me. Fuck! He was human after all! He did love me!

I never really doubted that. I mean I know I said that he didn’t from time to time, but people say shit all the time they don’t really

mean. Brian’s an expert at that job. He’s also an expert of not saying important shit, as well. I never really doubted that he loved me, I

just wasn’t quite sure if he loved me enough. Enough to give a little. Yeah, maybe, he did give a little. A real small little bit every once

in a while. He did some nice things for me. But shit, all the other crap I had to endure eventually weighed the scale in the other

direction. It finally sunk to the negative. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t pretend anymore. He likes to fucking pretend. Not lie,

really. He doesn’t lie to me. Not like I did to him. He just likes to hide things away, and ignore things, and pretend we’ll be okay. He

had to know at some point that it wouldn’t last. I’m not good at pretending. Fuck… he figured me out so fast. When I was cheating on

him. When I was working at Babylon, and hating every minute of it. He was always on to me, like I was on to him. I knew he loved

me. I know he still does. But, it doesn’t change anything. We still have the same goddamn problems we’ve always had.

Last night… talking to Brian, it hurt like hell. I mean, he was saying some harsh shit. But it also made me realize a few things. No

matter how much he wants to push me away, and make me forget him, and forget me, and try to go back to how he used to live, or

move forward in some new direction without me, well… I can’t let him. I really don’t think he’ll let himself. We care too much. It

won’t be easy at all. I don’t even know if we will be able to get it together again later on. Down the road. I don’t fucking know. All I

know is that he has to stay in my life. He has to. I have to make him stay. I always have. I can’t stop now. I’ve suffered through

enough dramatic bullshit to just give up.

Leaving with Ethan, wasn’t me giving up. I didn’t give up on Brian. I just had to do SOMETHING. Something had to change. If I had

stayed, Brian would’ve pushed me further away, and who knows what the fuck that would have produced. If I didn’t take this out that

Brian gave me, I would’ve withered slowly away. Fuck that. I can’t always do what’s right for Brian on the off chance that I’ll be

happy every once in a while. Just hanging on to him in whatever way possible. He was right about that. Last night, he told me that I

just keep hanging on, and that he just sits back, and lets me. It’s true. That’s the dynamic. That’s how it works. In a way, I guess you

could call it codependency. He needs me to need him. Maybe that’s why he’s so fucking shattered right now. Just blowing his mind

with alcohol. Trying to escape the pain, when I know it just makes it worse. Just makes him think about it harder. I could see it on his

face last night. I could hear it in his fucking words. He had obviously been sitting there for a while just thinking. About me. Leaving.

All of it. He even told me so.

I don’t know what to do with that information.

I feel my face wet with tears again. I’ve been crying on and off for the past 3 days. I don’t even notice I’m crying half the time. I’m all

fucked up.

All I know is that I refuse to accept Brian’s drunken ultimatum. He probably doesn’t even remember what he said. I highly doubt it.

He seemed past the point of even knowing what the fuck he was doing at that very moment. That usually means that you don’t store

memory of it anywhere. It just kind of leaks out into some void. Some space in your brain that you never use. That place where shit

gets lost. You have no idea how it escaped you, but somehow you’re fucked. Sorry! I don’t recall that incident! No! I won’t let you!

Yeah, he won’t remember it. Won’t stick to it.

The thing is, although he said some mean things last night, a lot of them were true. His emotions were raw. Just because he was drunk

doesn’t mean he wasn’t making sense. He was just saying whatever the fuck came to him out loud. He was having strange moments of

coherency, where I could look at him and he didn’t even seem drunk anymore. I knew he was by the things he was saying. He was

actually admitting some of his feelings to me, however good or bad. But he didn’t slur his words, and his eyes became suddenly clear,

and he made so much sense it scared me. He would just say that it’s all bullshit. Don’t believe anything from a drunk person’s mouth.

But, I think that’s untrue. And unfair. It’s like in “Almost Famous” when Russell is on acid, and out of nowhere he starts yelling at

William, calling him ‘the enemy’, and the Stillwater manager says: “Don’t worry. He only means half of what he says.” And William

mumbles: “Which half?” That’s exactly what I was thinking with Brian last night. Which parts does he mean? Which parts are

bullshit?

Fuck. I wish I hadn’t stopped over there last night. I should’ve just worn Ethan’s clothes, and stayed the fuck home. Only the loft was

my home. And now, it was time to leave. Yet, in a way I’m glad I saw what I saw last night. Glad he said those hurtful things to me.

Glad he showed some fucking emotion. It’s about damn time! At least he reassured me. And reassurance is all I need right now. From

Brian. From Ethan. From wherever I can get it.

Shit. I need to go get my stuff from his place. He told me to, anyway… today, before he gets home. But, like I decided, he doesn’t

remember that shit. Not at all. Still… I better do it anyway. Just in case I’m wrong, and he does remember. Plus, I might as well get it

over with.

The clock says its 1:15 PM. I should just go now.

**********

I take the bus to Tremont, and walk a few blocks down to the loft. I use my key to get in the building, and as I walk up the steps, I

think about leaving the key behind when I leave. I don’t want to have to do that. Giving back the key is so symbolic of the fucking

end, like a hope-sucking finality. I’ll decide what to do with the key later.

All thoughts leave my head as I reach the top of the stairs to find the loft door wide open, and Brian sprawled out on the floor, in the

same fucking spot I left him in last night. Shit. An irrational fear hits me that he’s dead. That I won’t be able to get him up. I dash over

to him, and lean down taking in all the signs that he is indeed still breathing. Thank god. Why the fuck is the door open? I look around

and see that nothing is missing, and looks just as I left it the night before. I look back at Brian. He must have passed out right after I

left. I must have rushed out without closing it. Fuck me! That was a stupid thing to do. He could’ve been murdered! Could’ve been

robbed! Shit. Well, he wasn’t. That’s the important thing. And shit, he probly has no idea that the door was open. He was so out of it.

I should go close the door, but he’s distracting. I’ve never seen him passed out on a floor. He looks much different than he usually

does when he’s sleeping. I’m sure it has something to with the discomfort of the cold hard surface, but there’s also a tension in his

body. In his face. He looks like absolute hell. I smile at that. Even looking like absolute hell, he’s still beautiful. There’s beauty in

disarray. I have the urge to draw him right now. Even after everything, I really want to get him like this. I doubt I’ll ever see him like

this again. He doesn’t look like he’ll be up any time soon.

I stand to retrieve a sketchpad from the desk, and I just sit and draw. And for this short amount of time I don’t think about anything

but this. Lines and forms. Just capturing this moment. It’s kind of a significant moment. A good title for it would be “Aftermath”, or

“After the End”, or I could rip off the Smashing Pumpkins and call it “The End is the Beginning is the End”. Yeah. That would be

fitting.

And I feel the damn tears again. I’m not even gonna try and blame it on allergies anymore. I’m past that. I’m not going to be afraid to

cry anymore. I know it’s not cuz I’m weak. I’m just normal. Healthy. Who wouldn’t cry at a time like this?

I finish the sketch amidst the trickling wet saltiness pouring slowly down my face, some reaching the paper, adding an extra touch of

realism.

And I see him stirring. So, I put away the sketchpad, and wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweater, and just sit there and watch him.

His neck is gonna feel like absolute shit. Not to mention his back. He’ll probably be crabby as fuck today. But, I won’t be here to deal

with it. I’ll get my stuff, and go. And I’m sure he’ll have a few choice words for me throughout, but I can take it.

He opens his eyes, and blinks numerous times in succession, staring straight at the ceiling. He let’s out a drawn-out groan, and yells:

“FUCK!” He looks around calmly, and slowly sits up, stretching his back. He sees me, and does a double take. Freezes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you were all right.”

“I doubt that.”

“I did. And, you told me to come get my shit today while you were at work. You were passed out on the floor when I got here, but

how was I supposed to know that?” I decided not to inform him of the door ajar overnight situation. At least not now.

“What are you talking about?”

“What? I came to get my stuff, and make sure that you hadn’t died from alcohol poisoning.”

“In that order?” He has to get in the witty comments. No matter how hung-over, or vulnerable. He still oozes sarcasm. It’s his brilliant

defense mechanism. One of many.

I ignore the comment. “I know you never want to see me again and all, but I’m afraid I have to be here long enough to pack up.” I’m

trying to trap him. Get him to sort of admit that last night was nothing. Something, but nothing. Not a bump in the road, just a clue for

improvement.

“I never said that.”

“Really? There was someone sitting in that exact same spot last night saying it to me. He looked a lot like you.”

He was decent enough to wince. A flash of shame crossed his demeanor, and quickly fled.

“I guess maybe I do make SOME good points when I’m drunk,” he tries to sting me. It lacks conviction.

“Yeah. You made a lot of good points actually.” I can tell he’s interested in knowing exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. What

points I’m referring to. “I think you’re right about all of it.”

I strategically decide to get up and walk into the bedroom. I start opening drawers, and looking for one of my bags to start putting

clothes in.

As I expect, he comes up the stairs. Interested, indeed. Oh, how the tables turn.

“Right about what?”

“That this is all for the best. You don’t need me anymore. I don’t need you anymore. I heard you loud and clear. I’ll just be out of your

hair in a little while.”

I don’t even look at him as I say all this, I just pretend like I’m really interested in packing up quick and booking it out of there. I

know that normally, he would see right through this little act of mine, but he’s awoken in a dazed stupor, worse for the wear, head

swimming… he doesn’t know what the fuck to think. I know he’s trying his damnedest to remember some of what he said to me last

night. He probably recalls me being here. That may be where it all ends, though.

“Oh. That. Well, you don’t have to rush. I’m just gonna take a shower. Take your time.”

It’s like he’s been shocked into mild pleasantness. This is truly amusing. This makes me feel way better than I have since the whole

incident at Babylon. This is hopeful.

Sure, I’m moving out. It’s sad. I wish I didn’t have to, but I do. I have to live with that fact. However, for the first time in a long while,

I have the upper hand. One night, Brian let’s his guard down, and now I’m back on top. So to speak. I know something he doesn’t. I

can use this to my advantage for sure. Not to be manipulative. Just to sort of move things along. Get him to not hate me. Get him to

talk to me. Keep him in my life, like I plan to. I will make him stay. Even on the outside, it’s still the inside when it’s him.

I finish getting together the main stuff I need and want right now. I’ll just leave the rest of it here to come back for later. It’ll give me

an excuse to see how Brian’s doing. All I need now is a few things from the bathroom, and I’m set. I wait until he emerges (luckily

he’s in a towel), and then I go and retrieve what I need. Toothbrush, razor, deodorant, face wash. I look around. That’ll do.

I emerge into the bedroom, and he’s clad in his ‘jeans and black tank, barefoot’ ensemble. One of my all-time favorites. I smirk at that,

but I don’t let him see it.

I walk over to my bag, and add the toiletry items. I still don’t look at him. I don’t want him to see me looking at him. I don’t know if I

can withstand looking at him without transparent lust. I stay quiet. It serves my purpose. I zip up the bag, and move into the living

room to grab a few sketchpads, including the one I drew in earlier.

I can feel him watching me. He seems unsure what to say, so he doesn’t speak.

Finally I have everything I need, and I move towards the door. Shit. I totally forgot it was still open. I never moved to close it. He

doesn’t even seem to notice, because he’s says nothing of it.

I have no idea how to end this visit. Luckily, he helps me out.

“Listen,” he says to my back. I turn around to face him. “You know that you can’t trust drunk talk from anyone’s mouth; especially

mine.”

Wow. More than I thought I was gonna get today.

I smile. For real. “I know, Brian.” I turn back to the open doorway, then turn to look at him again. He actually looks small right now.

Kind of meek. Unguarded. I want to run over and hug him, but I can’t. I won’t. So I just tell him the truth.

“I’m sorry.”

He seems to absorb it. Accept it. He nods his head a little. And I know he’s heard me. He knows I really mean it. He appreciates it.

Just a small nod tells me all that. I can still read him like a book. Sometimes.

And with that, I turn and walk out, making sure to close the door behind me.

5. Empty at the End

It’s been a week since I last saw Justin. Truth be told, I haven’t wanted to. I haven’t stopped by the diner. I haven’t stopped by

Woody’s, or Babylon. Even though I’m sure he hasn’t stopped by the latter two either. Still, just precautionary tactics. Or maybe I just

haven’t felt like going there. I don’t know which. Maybe both.

He hasn’t stopped by here again, yet. That morning surprised me, and relieved me all at once. It was really embarrassing to know that

he’d been there on the night of my low low decadent bow to Jim Beam. I don’t even really know how much I drank that night. I don’t

even know what the fuck I said that night. And Justin knows that, as well. Smug bastard. He was nice enough to hint at some of my

more drama queen-ish resolves. But I know that he purposefully withheld information, just because he could. He wants me to know

that he has knowledge of something that I don’t. He wants me to squirm. Well fuck that shit. I’m never mentioning that night or

morning to him EVER again. He can try to use it in his favor, but I refuse to let him. Like he actually has any kind of power over me.

Please! Not in this lifetime.

So after that whole little fiasco, I decided that I don’t want to see his face for a while. If I’m going to get him out of my system, I can’t

expect to do it by seeing him every day. Or ever, for that matter. Not as in like never again. Just as in not right now. I don’t need his

shit right now. I don’t need anyone’s shit right now.

Everyone can go on the fucking back burner for now. Especially Justin. He can stay there for a while. I don’t need any drama. All he

is right now is drama. Until we reach some kind of non-drama phase, then fuck it. I can’t be bothered.

I’ve been working like a goddamn dog. And no one has been around to ease the tension when I get home. No one at all. Empty. All of

it. I haven’t even picked up a trick since Justin ‘caught me’ with Rage boy. I don’t know why really. I think I’ve just been wallowing

in it too much. Just loving the unfamiliar feeling of not doing anything I’m accustomed to. I haven’t even gotten properly sloshed

since ‘Drama night’. I haven’t done any of it. I’ve just worked my ass off, and then sat around numbly thinking about shit. Mostly

Justin, but other stuff as well. All sorts of crazy shit I haven’t thought of in years. My family, high school, college… all the stages I’ve

gone through in my life. Maybe I was trying to pinpoint all the major changes. When did I become this person? When did I start

fucking everything that moved? When did I become so successful in the ad business? When was I a helpless child? What did all of it

feel like? How much do I really remember? I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about all this shit. Well… maybe I do. I think that

when you go through any major changes in your life, for some reason, you start to see it all in flashes. Moments where shit

happened… good and bad… pivotal moments. Sometimes those moments are small. Real fuckin’ small. Sometimes you wonder if

you’re the only one who remembers them. Are they all alone trapped in your mind? Is there a variation of those moments out there in

someone else’s mind? What the fuck do you do with memories, except smile, or cry about them later? That’s all they can do. They fill

your head with all kinds of notions. I’ve realized that losing Justin is a major change in my life. A really major one. Just like when I

first got him. I don’t even know when I really did. There are so many moments I remember that could be considered ‘the first time’.

Lots of firsts with us. I guess it was the night I met him. He’s been around ever since after all. He disrupted every fucking thing. I

don’t think he really knows that. I think he kind of does, but not really. He can never look at it the way I do. He’d know how fucking

scared I am, if he could.

Well, he ran in and reeked havoc, and then stormed back out. What kind of shit is that to do? What kind of shit is that to let him do?

He wouldn’t have done it, if I hadn’t Okayed it first. Why do I do these things to myself? I’ve always had to control every fucking

aspect of my life completely, ever since I moved out of the Hell House. After I got away from my parents, and all their shit, I had to

have a grip on every little detail. It would prevent my life from reverting back to anything closely resembling my nightmarish first 18

years of existence. Once it was me, and only me, that’s the way it would fucking stay. Logically.

Shit, if I were any kind of writer, I’d be writing my fucking memoir right now.

I should just fuck this, and go back to the booze, and the tricks, and the drugs. I should. Right now. But no. Not yet. I don’t feel like it

really. I feel tired. Too damn tired. I’ll just lie here, and think. Just until I go out of my mind. Until I get some kind of answer. Of

course, I don’t even know the question. Maybe I’ll figure that out too.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to lose myself in a daze. Concentrate on one point, and let my thoughts drift.

As if on cue, just to annoy me, the phone rings. I should just turn off the ringer. But, shit, I can just dismiss whoever it is. Perhaps

they’ll avert my line of thinking to something else. I grab the phone.

“What?”

“Oh, hey Bri.”

Right. Should’ve known.

“How’s it going, Sunshine? Expect not to find me at my own place?”

He hesitates. “No. Actually, I thought you’d be out. At Babylon, or something.”

He fucking would. Well, I should be. If I were acting like a normal human being, I would be. Well, at least the normal Brian Kinney

would be. “I took the night off. Didn’t feel like it. I’ve got someone coming over to take care of pressing matters.” Fibbing is fun

sometimes.

“Oh.” Yeah, fucker. Take that. “Well, I, uh… I’m sorry, I’ll just… I was going to stop by and get some more things, but since you’re

there… I mean, since you’re expecting someone, I’ll just come another time. When should I come?”

Oh, the responses I could think up for that one… Can’t use ‘em. Isn’t the time. Imagine that. Well, shit… I haven’t seen him in a

week, I could probably handle it now. But knowing me in this state, I’ll probably want to talk to HIM for a fucking change. Oddly

enough. So, maybe I should tell him to fuck off.

“You can come now,” I find myself saying.

“No, I don’t want to. Just tell me a better time.”

Ah, so he doesn’t want to see me either. Well, he probably doesn’t want to see me fucking another guy any time soon. I think he

finally got his fill of that. “You can come… NOW.” I hope he gets it. Don’t make me say it.

He pauses. Breathes. Huffs. “Fine. I’ll be there in like a half hour.”

“Do you remember how to get here?” I cannot ever keep my mouth shut.

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, I won’t fucking bother!”

“Calm down. I was only kidding.”

“I mean it, Brian! I don’t get off on being tortured.” He’s angry now.

“I know that better than anyone, Justin. Just, come over here, and get your shit.”

“Please, don’t make me regret it.”

“I’ll try.”

He hangs up.

Alrighty. I guess that’s settled. Now, to predict the outcome of whatever fallout I’m sure is about to ensue. I can’t. Who knows what

the hell I’m gonna say. I can’t even begin to imagine. Okay… I can be civil. I’ll do that at least. No comments about the little wifey.

No personal attacks whatsoever. They’ll only make it seem like I care. And right now, I don’t. It’s not allowed at present. No caring.

Just tolerance.

I just lie here until I hear the door. At least he didn’t bother to knock. I wouldn’t have bothered answering if he’d done that. Plus, it

would have made me angry again. I here him close the door, and hear a pause in his footsteps. Maybe he’s trying to hear if I’m

fucking some guy in here. Maybe he just doesn’t want to see me, and he’s bracing himself. Maybe both.

Finally I hear his footsteps again, and he appears on the steps looking rather obvious with surprise. His expression is leaning towards

priceless in my book. He doesn’t move from the first step. Just stands there staring at me like I’ve grown a third eye.

“What the fuck are you staring at?”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Lying here, whiling away the hours. Thinking about some shit.”

Why the fuck am I telling him this? What has happened to my acting abilities?

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he smiles. Ah, the ol’ Sunshine smile.

“I don’t intend to. I’ve managed so far. Thinking about all kinds of crazy shit, I was. All night. Don’t know why.”

“Bored?”

“Kind of.”

“Why don’t you go grab a trick, or a drink, or both? That’s never boring.”

“You’d be surprised.”

I say this as he’s stepping up to finally enter the bedroom, and he trips on the ledge, and almost falls to the

floor, but catches himself just in time. Quite amusing.

“Careful, Sunshine. Don’t hurt yourself.” I try not to laugh. I just do my usual smirk with raised eyebrow.

“Then don’t say completely alien shit to me. I never thought I’d ever hear you say that tricking is boring.”

“First time for everything.”

We both stay kind of quiet after that one, and he sets out to do what he came here to do. He opens the closet and removes two of his

bags, and starts piling up his shit. The space he filled when he was here is going to look so empty once he takes it all. I remember how

fucking difficult it was to move all my stuff around to accommodate him. Shit. Can’t he see that? I moved around MY belongings for

him, just like I moved around MY life for him. I altered it all. Why can’t he see that? Does he see that? Does it make a difference, one

way or another?

“You remember when you were moving in here? All that shit you had?”

He looks at me, perplexed, but smiles again, and stops for a second. “Yeah. I thought you were going to murder me. You seemed so

appalled by the look of your expensive-ass Armani, and D & G hanging next to my cheap-ass Gap, and French Connection. Your face

was priceless. I thought it was cute.” He stiffens for a moment, awaiting my reaction.

I laugh, though, and then he starts to laugh.

“Did you like being here?” Shit. I knew I was gonna start asking him questions. I’m in such a fucked-up state right now. I hate talking.

I’ve never liked it to begin with. I prefer actions. Fucking, drinking… what the fuck else do I like to do? Uh, well… I work. And I

work out! So… working out, working, fucking, drinking… I don’t give a shit, just anything but talking. I only talk when absolutely

necessary, unless I’m making meaningless comments that mock other people. That’s my other hobby. But that’s also an action. It’s

different than talking. It’s talking shit. I like talking shit, but not talking talking. But, anyway, I’m in a very odd thinking mood, which

led to a talking mood. Cuz I feel like I kind of need to talk to Justin. Not sure why. I just, even if I don’t want to see him, I know I

need to. I need him to stick around. Even if we’re not living together, or fucking. It’ll be different, and weird, but shit… I need it. I

guess. I’m not ready for THAT big of a change. I don’t want him to disappear completely.

“Why are you asking so many questions?” He asks genuinely.

“I don’t know. I’m just in that kind of a mood.”

“You’re never in that kind of a mood.” He gives me the world’s most suspicious look. I don’t blame him.

“Just humor me, would you? I’m not attacking you or anything.”

“Yeah, well, the other night you started out asking me innocent little questions, and ended up ripping me a new one.”

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t have any control over my mouth.”

“Do you ever?”

“Sometimes. Just sit down for a second.”

He looks at me with a flicker of doubt, but finally complies. He sits on the edge of the bed, and twists his body around to face me,

leaning on his right arm. He’s gotten so strong again. I’m really fucking glad about that. His injuries are hardly a problem anymore.

He’s done a great job getting himself past it all.

“So?” I remind him there’s a question on the floor.

“Did I like living here?” I nod. “For the most part, yeah. Well… definitely, yes.”

“Why?”

He shifts uncomfortably and looks away. I can tell he’s trying to think of a lie. “Don’t lie.”

He looks at me again. “You were here.” Pause. “And it’s a nice place,” he adds.

“Even with all the shit I did to you, you still liked living here?”

“Yeah. If I didn’t want to be here, I would’ve left.” Shit. His eyes shoot back at me, and I can almost hear him trying to take back the

words.

If he didn’t want to be here, he would have left. He left, didn’t he? In the end.

“I guess that’s my answer.”

“Brian… I didn’t mean it like that. I meant like I did like it at one point, and then it got to be too much.”

“What? Me?”

“Don’t try and pretend like you’re a peach to live with. You yourself just mentioned how difficult you were. That’s why you’re asking

me these ridiculous questions.”

“They’re not ridiculous, you little prick. I’m just thinking. God forbid I ask for your fucking thoughts about something. I thought you

wanted to talk more.”

“Yeah, I did. When we were together.”

Oh. Of course. Rub THAT in my face. Is he trying to say it’s too late? Get over it? Move on, I have?

“Fuck you! I’m actually being polite, and you’re gonna harass me for it?”

“I’m not harassing you, I just don’t understand! What do you want from me?”

I don’t know. Everything. All of it. Whatever I can fucking get.

“I don’t want a goddamn thing from you. Just get your shit, and go. I’ll stop inconveniencing you with my ridiculous questions.”

He stands up in a huff.

“You are so fucking impossible!” He yells at me. “You just do all this shit on purpose! Why do you even pretend to make an effort?

You know you’re only gonna end up taking the prickish Brian way out in the end! I ask you a simple question, and you’re too fucking

afraid to answer me! So, stop bullshitting me with ‘I wanna talk’ routines! You don’t really wanna talk. You just want to hear stuff

you think you need to hear. Stuff you wanna hear for your own benefit! Then you’ll just dispose of me afterwards! Just like you

dispose a trick after sex!”

Ouch. What the fuck did I do? I thought this was going well. But, he’s right. I always manage to fuck it up somewhere along the way.

“Fine! Fuck it! I won’t make any more effort, since it’s obvious that you don’t fucking care for one!” I’m sitting up now. Pissed off.

“Effort? What the fuck are you on? You call this effort? Effort would be maybe refraining from being an asshole for longer than five

fucking minutes! You can’t even do that! FIVE MINUTES! The only way to do that is to suck your dick. Then, maybe you’ll shut the

fuck up with all your bullshit!”

“You are such a little twat. I can’t believe you’re chastising me, when you’re the one who couldn’t handle what you SAID you

wanted, and had to run off with some obnoxious little boy to fulfill your hollow, pussy, romantic fantasies! You chastise ME, for not

talking to YOU! I don’t recall you ever uttering the words: ‘Hey, Brian, I’m fucking this other guy on the side’.”

“On the side of WHAT exactly? You’re always telling me that I don’t owe you anything, that there’s no locks on our doors, don’t

settle down, blah blah blah… all your bullshit! Maybe I got tired of it! Maybe I couldn’t take it anymore! At least I TRIED!”

“And I didn’t try? I did nothing for you? I wasn’t there to jam you out of every single situation you ever came across? FUCK YOU if

you’re going to conveniently forget all of that. Just fuck you. I don’t need you then. If you can stand there and be such a judgmental

self-aggrandizing asshole.”

He’s silent for a moment. I wait for the waterworks to come, but they don’t.

“Yeah, well… I didn’t forget. I remember even better than you do. All of it. But, that doesn’t mean I forget all the other bullshit you

put me through. I won’t. Maybe you will, but I won’t.”

That’s all he says. No more attacks on me or anything. He just holds it all back. I can’t say anything to that.

“Just let me finish this,” he says quietly.

“Yeah.” I get up, and go to the kitchen for a drink. But, I don’t know if I want him to see me running to the bottle. Ah, fuck it. I’m

definitely not going to stay in thoughtful self-pity mode. Fuck that. This is where it got me. I open up the fresh bottle of Beam, and

take a nice long chug. Feel it rolling down my throat. Taste it burning my tongue. Warming up my insides as it goes straight to my

stomach. The familiarity I’ve lost this past week, I feel coming back in full force. Fuck change. Just roll with the tide. Fuck going

against it. It just wore me out. Made me too tired to keep on. I’ll stick to what I know. Fucking up. That’s what I know how to do

better than anyone, it seems. So I’ve heard.

I hear Justin in the other room, tearing through shit. He’s fucking Flash in there. He comes out in no time at all, and walks straight to

the door, rolling it open, and now I’m standing behind him, transfixed. Just watching him walk out for the fucking umpteenth time.

“We really have to stop meeting like this,” I tell him.

He turns to face me. “I got all of it. I shouldn’t have to stop by again.”

“I just meant that the series of random dramatic free-for-alls are a bit taxing.”

“So maybe you need to just shut up every once in a while,” he says seriously.

That makes me smirk. “I never thought you’d ask me to STOP talking. But, maybe it just isn’t my thing, after all.”

“It could be, if you just controlled yourself.”

“I don’t know. I don’t get a lot of practice.”

He doesn’t reply to that, just looks away.

“Look, I’ll call you some time. When I learn how to tame ‘prickish Brian’, you’ll be the first to know.”

He gives a real half-assed smile at that. Hey, I AM TRYING. I don’t know if I’ve convinced him though.

“Bye, Brian.” He turns to leave.

Bye? When has he ever said ‘bye’ to me?

“Fuck ‘bye’.”

He pauses.

“Later, Justin. It’s always ‘later’.”

I can’t see his face, but I know he’s wearing a sad smile.

“Later, Brian.”

“Later.”

And he shuts the door. And that’s that. Whatever that was. Whatever that will be next time around.

6. Fuck the Pain Away

BRIAN

Now this is what I call pain fucking management. Yeah... Put it all on hold for now. All the drama. All the feelings that I don’t want. I

can just get rid of it. Think of nothing but my dick feeling good. Fucking everything else away. It’s helped me before. In a sense. It

makes me feel something different from whatever it was that I needed to get away from. This shit is escapism right here. This is the

real definition. Just fucking. Fucking it all to hell.

“Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhh…” I hear the guy underneath me half-groan, half-grunt. He’s on the muscular side, which I really like, because it

gives me more sense power when I overtake them. It makes me feel more accomplishment. Triumph. Conquering territory that could

easily whip my ass if they decided to. But they wouldn’t want to do that. I give them too much pleasure. They don’t want me to stop.

They want to stay as long as they can. Have a nice long ride.

I can’t remember if this guy even told me his name, but I surely don’t give a flying fuck. He’s on all fours taking it like a pro, and

that’s all that really matters. It’s really rough tonight. I’m in a rough kind of a mood. I have a tuft of his dark brown hair grasped

firmly in my right hand. Fuck his dick. I’m not gonna help him out with that one. But I yank his head back with every thrust, eliciting

loud gasping noises from him every time.

I close my eyes for a minute and just savor the moment. This feeling of absolute control. This is the only place I ever truly feel like

that. Right here. Fucking hard and deep. It’s my finest attribute. Better than any one characteristic of my looks. This ability right here

to just fuck you blind. It’s this surge of dominance that I love. It feeds me something I need. Something that Justin couldn’t give me.

He gave me something else. I never fuck anyone the way I fuck Justin. It isn’t possible. For one, I’d have to be reacquainted with them

over and over again, and I’d have to know a few things about them, and I’d have to really really like them. Okay, maybe, love them. I

just have to have a connection deeper than this right here. This mindless pounding. That’s all this is.

“Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” This guy is loud. He can’t quite contain himself like I can. I just grit my teeth, and keep going. I hardly

ever make any sounds when I’m fucking. Even with Justin, I never really cried out unless it was particularly great. Justin’s not too

noisy either. He used to be, but somewhere along the way I think he got really used to sex, like me, and just got less enthusiastic about

it. With other guys, he was like a machine. Like me. When it was just us, he would make little hissing sounds that always let me know

I was doing it exactly right. And like me, he never really cried out unless it was an exceptional session. Usually when we played

rough, we got loud as fuck. We would get really into it, and I would force him down and keep him where I wanted him, and when his

hands would escape he’d grab onto my ass and squeeze it so damn hard. It made my dick throb and want to explode inside of him.

He’d dig into my sides, and leave scratch marks. He’d smack my ass and leave it so fucking red. Once he even bruised my shoulder,

when he bit into it too hard. He drew blood and shit. It was so fucking hot. We both came really hard right after he did it. Afterwards,

he was afraid that I’d get pissed at him, but I just smiled. How could I get pissed at him for doing something to get me off? I mean, I

left my marks on him all the time. Little bruises on his wrists, neck, thighs… He never yelled at me for that. He seemed to like it.

Those nights we would both issue deep guttural moans, and cry out each other’s names even. Just yell out shit. Just let go completely.

We couldn’t let go like that when we went slow. That was something else entirely in and of itself.

I can feel the heat gathering, and the pressure building up in my balls. It won’t be long now. Guy underneath me should cum any

second now, and that’ll help me out. I’m still tugging his hair. I’m not even thinking about it anymore. His scalp is going to be aching

later. Like the bite that Justin gave me that time. Shit… suddenly I have the urge to bite this fucker. I don’t know why. I just feel like

it, but who cares? I lean down towards his back, and bite his left shoulder. Hard.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” And he shoots. Excellent. The tightness feels so good. The contracting muscles send

euphoric waves through my body, and giving all that I can right now, I drop my load. I love the release. It’s such a rush of truth. It’s

pleasure at its literal peak. It feels so fucking good. I collapse on top of whatever his name is, and just try to calm myself before I get

up and kick him out.

Seems my thoughts haven’t exactly dwindled to a minimum in the past few days. Not at all in fact. They’ve kept at it. Taunting me.

Reminding me of things past. Times I’ll never get back to. Places I’ll never arrive at again. Making me think and think about the

future.

Fuck it all. It’s time for Babylon. More willing bodies to hunt down.

I lift myself off of Guy here, and he just lies there motionless. No fucking way he’s sleeping here.

“Time for you to leave. I’m in a hurry.”

********************

JUSTIN

I don’t know why I came here. I really don’t. I guess I miss hanging around, dancing, looking for hot guys to fuck. Seeing the boys.

They aren’t here tonight, but I think it’s actually better that way. No one has to see me slip. If I do slip. IF. I mean, I don’t know why

exactly, but tonight I just want to get laid. I don’t want Ethan’s emotional attachment, and I don’t want it to be nice and sweet, and

slow. I want it rough. I want to fuck the shit out of someone. Like Brian used to fuck the shit out of me. Every once in a while it would

get so fucking intense. Just ignited like a match on kerosene. It felt like we were on fire sometimes. It was so fucking amazing. It

made me crazy, and it made Brian crazy. I could tell by the look in his eyes. He never looked so hot as when he was perched on top of

me, staring at my face with pure lust and want and need. It was so perfect. Just in those small moments, I knew that I was the only one

he ever looked at like that. I knew I was the only one that he ever fucked like that. Like he actually paid full attention to me, and not

himself. Like he did with those other guys.

I never really understood that. I still don’t to a certain extent. To a far extent. I fuck other guys occasionally, just cuz it makes me feel

good, and fulfills some need in me to have hot meaningless sex. But, Brian does it for some other reason. A deeper reason. I could

easily give up tricking. He probably never will. He has some kind of attachment to the act. The guys obviously mean nothing. It’s the

act itself that means everything. I want to know why the hell he needs it so damn much. What is it that he gets from it, that he doesn’t

get with me? Aren’t I a better lay? I mean, why has he fucked me so many times? I must be pretty fucking good, for the master to keep

me around for so long. Trained by the best, for the best. What could be better than that? But, maybe it’s not about better. Maybe it’s

about different. I know it’s all a piece of the puzzle that is Brian Kinney’s fucked up psyche. I just wish I could understand more. I

wish he’d try to explain.

Whatever, though. Fuck Brian. I didn’t come here to think about Brian. I came here to potentially cheat on my new boyfriend.

Already. Maybe Brian rubbed off on me more than I want to admit. Or maybe I’m just tying to fuck it up. People do that sometimes. I

think maybe Brian did that for a couple months before we split. Tried to fuck it up. Tried to make me run away. Maybe I’ll end up

doing the same to Ethan. Just like I did to that poor kid at Daphne’s party. I don’t even remember his name anymore. Julian? I don’t

know. I just… I was such a fucking asshole to that kid, just because I was angry for something that had nothing to do with him.

Because I wanted to get some sick satisfaction from the fact that I had the power to hurt someone the way Brian hurt me after our first

time together. I just fucked him over. A poor helpless virgin, as they say. And I never looked back. Just moved on.

Right, well… Now, I’m standing here, thinking of ixnaying all my new found principals, cuz I feel like it. No other reason at all. I

mean, Ethan and I didn’t exactly say we were monogamous. But, who am I kidding? He only wants to be with me, and he only wants

me to be with him. That’s what I’ve been looking for, right? So, why would I jeopardize that? I’m such a fucking basket case

sometimes. I don’t make sense any more than Brian makes sense to me. I just have to decide whether or not to take the plunge. To go

for it, and see what happens.

I knock back another drink, and spot a tall guy who looks to be in his early twenties, with dirty blonde hair and stunning green eyes

making his way towards me. His eyes seem to glow, and radiate a force that draws like a magnet. Shit. This is temptation, right here.

We don’t break eye contact the entire time it takes him to traverse the distance from the other end of the bar to where I’m standing. I

wait for him to say something. He came to me, after all.

“How’s it going?” Originality in approach: zero.

“Okay,” I say with complete lack of interest. I’m playing with him of course. He knows I’m interested because I couldn’t take my eyes

off since I first noticed him. But, I can’t seem remotely enthusiastic. He has to work for it. He has to see that I really don’t give a fuck.

I want to be in control of this scenario, however it plays out. If it plays out.

“You wanna party?” Wow. Stunning verbal skills. It’s a shame when they’re hot, but you can tell they just don’t quite get it upstairs.

Of course, he could be a fuckin’ genius for all I know. I’m judging him cuz he chose one tired phrase. What’s my problem lately?

Now I have to make a choice. Do I want to, as he so eloquently put it, party? I’m still not too sure. I could toy with him a bit longer,

until I decide. That wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll just get him worked up on the dance floor, and abandon him in ultimate tease

fashion. If I don’t want it. But, I’m not rude, am I? Do I wanna be?

“Maybe,” I finally answer him. I say it in the same bored manner as before with the slightest hint of possibility.

“What, you need more incentive?” Well, that’s at least a bigger word than party. Maybe he’s not a dummy.

He’s leaning in real close to my face now, drawing me in with his beautiful deep green eyes. Fuck. He’s not making this any easier.

Why do I put myself in these positions? I guess I can be selfish too.

I say nothing to him, but something flickers in his eyes, and I just know I’m fucking doomed. He leans in and assaults my lips. And I

let him do it, I get into it. I haven’t kissed anyone but Brian and Ethan, since that fucking virgin. This guy is good. He knows what

he’s doing. I can’t imagine what else his mouth could do to me. To other parts of my body. Shit, that gets me hot. Just thinking about

it. The kiss deepens, and he’s holding me by the waist, while I latch my hands to either side of his head. Fuck. This is what I needed

tonight.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the last fucking person I thought I’d see here tonight, making out with someone other than, gasp, Fiddler on the

Roof.”

Oh my fucking god. Brian. Of course. Of fucking course! Now this is a sticky situation. Too sticky for me.

I turn away from Green Eyes to face the music. I don’t know what to say. I’m at an utter loss for words.

He’s smirking like he couldn’t have stumbled upon a more pleasant sight. But, shit, I just know he’s going to give me hell for this, and

I was only making out with the guy.

“Some things never change, do they?” Now his amused smile is turning into an angry glare.

“Fuck off, Brian. It’s none of your fucking business.” He’s such a prick.

“Oh, no, Sunshine. Your wrong about that,” he tells me, slipping an arm over my shoulders and leaning into my left ear, “I find it

interesting to see you doing exactly what you loved to point the finger at me for. Or were you planning on leaving here without

fucking him first?”

Shit. Shut up. Why is he doing this? He shouldn’t give a fuck anymore. Especially after all the warring that’s been going on with us

lately, which HE instigates I might add. Every single time. I guess I’m quiet for a little too long, because Green Eyes somehow gets

the impression that I need to be saved.

He steps in front of us and looks directly at Brian, and says: “Fuck off, pal.” This guy has got balls of steel. I totally underestimated

him. Though, this could easily be the dumbest thing I’ve heard someone say in a long time. I almost laugh. Almost. Did this guy not

KNOW who Brian was? How could he NOT? Brian does laugh, though. It’s a relief. I don’t want the poor guy to get hurt.

“Who the fuck are you?” Brian says. Without giving the guy enough time to respond, he continues, “The correct and only answer I’m

looking for is for you to walk away. NOW.” He gives Green Eyes the most murderous look possible, and the guy actually retreats

without another word. Okay, that’s funny. I start laughing, and Brian turns his venomous look back to me.

“You’re such a cock blocker!” I tell him.

“And you’re a fucking hypocrite.” Of course he has to be completely serious. Goddammit! What does he want from me? It’s the most

nagging question I have. The one thing I would like for him to answer. He’s been acting so fucking strange lately. Almost unnaturally.

“Look, Brian, I know you didn’t come over here to prevent me from cheating on Ethan, cuz I know you don’t give a fuck about him.

You’d be happy to see me do it, even. So, explain to me why it is you feel the need to come over here and act like a bastard? For

kicks? What are you trying to do here?”

Well said, in my opinion. I almost went for verbal attacking, but I’d rather at least TRY to get some actual answers. It’d be more

beneficial.

“I just came here to get laid. I walk in the door, and imagine my fucking surprise. You expected me to stay away? You know better

than that. I figured I might as well come on over and rub it in your face, since you’ve always loved rubbing it in mine. It’s okay for

you to do it, huh? As long as your ‘partner’ only wants you, and keeps it that way? You can stray all the fuck you want, and yet lecture

other parties? You’re fucking unbelievable, kid.”

And that’s when I get it. He’s hurt that I would fuck around on Ethan, because he thinks that the main reason I left him is because he

fucked around too much on me. Even if I allowed it, I let him know that I didn’t want someone who tricked all the time, and now here

I am, what, three weeks later about to go at it with a trick. Still, I have no obligation to explain anything to him anymore. Even

something that he might actually be able to understand.

“Just leave me alone, Brian. I only wanted to unwind a little.”

“What? Not getting it good enough at home? I bet that’s a big let down for you. I’d be more than happy to help you out… if you were

still around that is. You wouldn’t have to chase it down, would you?”

It’s moments like these when I really don’t give a fuck that I left him. “Fuck. You.”

And I just walk away. Past Green Eyes whose been casually waiting for me off to the side of the dance floor. Out the door. Back to

Ethan’s place. Fuck it. I’ll just have to get it from him. Maybe I can make him take it rough. Just this once.

********************

BRIAN

That little fucking prick. I swear I wanted to strangle him when I saw him. I felt like I’d been rejected all over again. I wanted to hurt

Justin, and I wanted to fucking stomp on that twat he was tonguing it up with. He was kinda hot, but still. What right does he have to

put his hands all over Justin? Fuckin’ A. Probably about as much right as I do now. Probably more right than I do now. Justin

wouldn’t want me touching him with a ten-foot pole. Tonight was the first time I’d made any kind of physical contact with him since

that night, and he’d steeled at the gesture. Taken aback. Great fucking progress.

What the fuck was he trying to do anyway? I’m genuinely baffled. Why was he here, looking for a fuck? I know that’s what he was

doing. I just don’t understand why. He thinks I’m complex… Sometimes he makes about as much sense as Emmett fucking a woman.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I came here to forget about the stupid twink, and the first thing I spot when I walk in is him. Just my luck. It’s been

so on my side lately.

Okay, let’s not analyze this to fucking death tonight. I can still go to the backroom, and get a few blowjobs, and get the fuck out of

here. I have a presentation tomorrow. I need to be at least partially rested, if that’s fucking possible.

I make my way straight for the backroom. Fuck making the effort to pick someone up on the dance floor. I’ll just lean against a wall,

and wait a whole half a second before some guy falls on his knees and gets to work.

At least this place I can trust. This place never throws me for a loop. I know exactly what to expect back here. So nice and

uncomplicated. I can control this place. Better than anything.

I lean back against an available space of wall, and sure enough, I almost immediately find my pants being unbuttoned. Speedy service.

Instant satisfaction.

********************

JUSTIN

When I get back to Ethan’s place, I find him asleep. Good. I’ll catch him by surprise, and he’ll have to go along with it. Easier to

maneuver that way.

I creep up to the bed as softly as I can, peeling off my shirt, and tossing it quietly to the floor. I toe of my shoes, and pull down my

pants, and finally remove my socks. I get in bed from the right side, and as soon as I’m under the covers, I go down on him.

All I can think of is the moment. Licking and sucking. He’s hard in an instant. And he’s a pretty light sleeper, so I know he’s already

awake. I attack his cock purposefully, and almost wildly. He’s gotta let me have this. I just wanna fuck this shit out of him. I lick my

way up his body, until I reach his lips. We look in each other’s eyes briefly, and I silently tell him what I’m going to do. Then I set in

on his lips just as forcefully as I worked on his cock a moment ago.

“I wanna fuck you,” I let him know, between kisses.

He doesn’t say anything. He just lets me do my thing. I reach down to get him ready. I brush my finger over the tip of his dick, and

use his own precum to lube his hole. I look down at him, and find his eyes closed tightly.

“You like that?”

He moans lowly, in response.

Finally, I grab a condom from the nightstand, and roll it on my dick.

“Roll over,” I order him.

He does, and then I tell him to get on his hands and knees. He does, without protest. Easier than I fuckin’ thought it would be.

I reach down, and grab my throbbing cock, and swiftly slide it into place. And then I truly let go.

In and out. Over and over. Same pattern. Change it up a little… going deeper, switching directions, sliding faster. In and out.

That’s all it is. It feels so good. It’s like complete abandon. Well, usually, it is, but right now it’s like half-abandon, half-unstoppable

thoughts. Of Brian, and how we used to have incredible hard sex. The slow sex was great too, and all the other kinds in between. But,

the rough shit… That was the absolute best right there. A lot of people think that slower sex is more intimate, and more like

‘lovemaking’. Like it has more value. But, I don’t think so. It’s true that it has a heavy meaning, but so do the hard, fast, thrill-rides.

They convey total want and need. It’s like the entire time some greater force is driving you, and you just want to fuck the other person

into oblivion. Just fuck them so hard, they have a coronary right there. That’s powerful stuff too. And if you love the person, it makes

your orgasm so damn intense. It really becomes the best sex you’ve ever had.

Brian did that to me so many times, I can’t even remember half of them. We were fucking maniacs sometimes. I wanted to hurt him

sometimes. And sometimes, I wanted him to hurt me. Just make it all one big metaphor for our entire relationship. Make it all one

unifying theme. But we never got too out of hand. The most overwhelming times I remember, is when I used to smack Brian’s ass as

hard as I could while he drove himself into me over and over, and harder and harder. The look in his eyes would get so fucking

intense. And we would kiss, and suck, and nip at each other’s swollen lips. I wanted to kill him with good sex. Make him cum so hard

he just died right there. And I died with him. Then we could spare whatever pain and bullshit was sure to follow sooner or later.

Usually sooner.

Ethan’s moaning, brings me back to the present. Right. Ethan. I should be thinking about him right? Well, honestly, I never have sex

with Ethan and not think of Brian. As a matter of fact I’ve not once ever had sex without thinking of Brian. He knew what the fuck he

was talking about, when he told me that he’d always be there, no matter who I was with. I remember closing my eyes, just like he said,

and trying to impress every little sensation on my memory. He marked it with his touch. I’ve never known anyone who’s touched me

so deeply. I doubt I ever will.

No matter who I ever end up with, no matter how far down the road, and away from Brian Kinney I manage to get, I know he’ll

always be there. Especially, when I’m doing this.

7. We’re Going to be Friends

Today I came into the diner with this inexplicable feeling that something was going to happen. Not just some abstract something.

Something, as in Brian, something. I knew I was going to see him here today. I don’t know how to explain it. I just defer to calling it

the intuition one gets with another person, after they form a connection like the one we had. It’s kind of like a radar. It doesn’t always

work, though. Just when it wants to. Today it’s like beeping uncontrollably, and flashing red over and over like a stoplight. This

intuition gives me a clenched stomach, and an over-all feeling of anxious misery. I try to just concentrate on what I’m doing, and keep

my mind off of anything and everything Brian-related, but of course that just makes the nagging, nervous feeling persist. Every time I

feel a fresh wave through my body I think: “Shit, just get it over with!” Then I get really worried, cuz what could possibly happen?

He’ll probly come in and order something, and ignore me completely. Not make any kind of scene. That’s what he would normally do.

But… he’s been anything but normal lately. He hasn’t been acting like the usual “don’t-give-a-fuck” bastard that he’s famous for

being. He’s actually been showing quite a bit of feeling. That in itself is slightly off-putting. I mean, it’s a step forward, but it’s just so

disconcerting. I don’t know how to handle him, because I never have a clue as to what he’ll do next. Lash out. Be gentle. Laugh.

Scream. Stay quiet. I just don’t fucking know what the hell.

“Sunshine!”

“Huh?”

“Where the fuck is your head today?” Debbie gives an indignant, accusing glare, her hands firmly placed on her hips.

“Oh, I’m sorry. What do you need?”

“I need for you to get the two orders that are up, and take them to tables 4 and 6. Then I need for you to stop thinking about Brian long

enough to do your damn job.”

I open my mouth to deny her claims, but I don’t know what to say. She’s right, but how the fuck would she know that? I must look

like a fool, standing here with my mouth hanging open.

“Save it, Sunshine. You lived with me for almost a year; I know exactly what’s going with you by looking at your face. And I know

you can’t be thinking about Ethan, because you look too conflicted. Now, if you want to talk to me about anything later, be my guest,

but right now, we’re busy. It’s Saturday, and I need you. Now get your bubble but in gear, before I have to whip it into shape!”

“Okay,” I find myself answering. Am I that obvious?

I try to shake it off, and finally I settle into a numb routine. I take Debbie’s advice and just stay focused. Push the fluttery stomach to

the very back edge of my mind.

A few hours pass, and it gets to be almost 7 o’clock. I start thinking that maybe I imagined this whole possible scenario. Maybe I’ll get

away scott-free after all. I’m off in 10 minutes.

Never should I have thought that. Brian seems to recall my Saturday schedule, because in he strides at 5 to. I don’t have a doubt in my

mind that he’s here to speak to me. I don’t know the purpose of the visit. But, I know he’s not here to eat. Luckily, Deb got off at 5, so

I don’t have to deal with her comments, or criticisms. She might have scared Brian off before I even got a chance to make my way

over to his table. She always means well, and while she can be very perceptive, and give good advice at times, she can also be

meddlesome.

I go in the back to change, and grab my backpack, before making my way to his table. I sit down opposite him, and wait for him to say

something.

We just sit there staring at each other. I don’t know why. A silent battle of wills. A test. Proof that we have nothing to say to each

other. Proof that we have too much to say to each other. Where the fuck do we begin?

I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks. Since the Babylon fiasco. It seems every encounter we’ve had over the past two months can

be deemed a “fiasco”, or an “incident”. That’s a real comfort. Makes me really not want to say a word.

“Why have you been acting so strange lately?” He finally asks me.

“What, ME?” He nods his head. “What are you on? You’re the one who’s been practically unrecognizable. I have no idea what to

think of you anymore.”

“Really?” He sounds almost hurt. I wonder how much time he spends thinking about this. About us. It really seems like he has been. A

lot. Like he’s trying, all of the sudden, even if I’m not around to see it. He is making some effort, and despite his uncontrolled

outbursts, I guess I know that they’re just his defenses showing up to save his pride.

“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. I’m just confused.”

“Yeah, well, this whole fucking thing is pretty damn confusing.” He cracks a smile, then, and so do I.

“I know.” I look down at the table.

“So, you didn’t answer my question.”

“And I’m not going to.”

He snorts. “Why not, brat?”

“Because I don’t know the answer.” I look back up at him.

“Yes you do,” he says with total confidence.

“Oh, Brian. Please don’t start assuming you know shit. You know that pisses me off.”

He arches his eyebrow at that. “And you know how lying pisses me off.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know. Why would you lie?”

Fuck. Where is this going? What does he want to hear? What do I not want him to hear? I know the answer to that, but I don’t want

him to know it. It’ll just make him cocky, and make him think that he has the upper hand. Or that I like want him back. Which I don’t.

I really don’t want to want him back. Fuck.

“Look, I don’t know where exactly you’re going with this, but I’m not telling you shit, until you answer me something.”

“Fine,” he says with a bemused smirk.

Shit. Didn’t expect him to comply. Okay. So, what do I want to ask? There are too many questions that he’s never given me answers

to. There are some answers that I’d rather be left to puzzle over. He’s not ready to say some things, and I’m not ready to hear some

things. I think that’s why we have such a fucked up relationship. We’re both too damn uncertain about everything all the time.

“What are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Now, that’s two questions. You have to answer mine first.”

“Fuck you.” I smile.

“Answer me.” No. “Come on.” He keeps prodding me. “I already know the answer, I just want to hear you say it.” I just stare at him.

“Why have you been acting so out of character lately?”

“Why have YOU!”

“No, no, little Justin. We’ve been through this. Answer the fucking question.”

“Look, you haven’t even been around lately to know what I’ve been acting like. You don’t have a clue, so fuck off.”

He’s really smiling now. Fucking Brian.

“I’m not going to stop until you admit it.”

“Admit WHAT!”

“You know what.”

ARGH!!!! FUCK! He is SO infuriating!

I finally let out a drawn out dramatic, exasperated, sigh. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. Just tell me.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Fuck you! Why do I have to be the one to say it?”

“Cuz I said so.”

“You better tell me all sorts of things after this.”

“We’ll see.”

“Fine.” I pause, and then mumble something.

“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I MISS YOU!”

He sits back with a satisfied grin that I would love to knock right off of his face with a swift punch to the chin.

“I miss you too.” He states, still smiling. “Was that so hard?”

I smile, and lean back as well. “I’m gonna kill you one day. Just watch.”

“Never.”

“Okay, fine. I miss you, but that doesn’t mean I want you back.” I tell him. I need him to understand that I’m not just gonna cave in

and run back to him just cuz I’m a little nostalgic.

“Who said I wanted YOU back?”

“I just want to be clear.”

“Whatever. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Right,” I say, grinning as well. “So… now answer my damn question. Why do you wanna talk to me?”

“I have to have a reason?”

“There’s always a reason with you, Brian. You’re the most calculating person I know.”

“I’m just smart.”

“Whatever. Answer me.”

He pauses to think, like he really doesn’t know the answer. But he must. Just like I knew the answer to his question, but didn’t want to

admit it. Admitting any kind of “feelings” to each other is always like pulling teeth. It’s always drawn out, and painful.

“Well, I just think it’s silly for us to stop having anything to do with each other. You just admitted you miss me. I just admitted I miss

you. I don’t see why we shouldn’t be around each other in some capacity.”

“Maybe that’s exactly why we shouldn’t. It’s too hard. It won’t work.”

“I’ve thought about that. Obviously. That was my first resolve. Don’t see you, don’t talk to you, don’t deal with it. It’s stupid. It’s not

worth it.”

I can’t believe how mature he’s being. Brian Kinney drawing these kinds of conclusions must be some sign of impending doom.

“I don’t understand.”

“We should just spend some time together. Fuck the awkwardness. Try to move past it. See what happens.”

“See what happens?” He DOES want me back! He SO does!

“See if we kill each other, or manage to get back on track. Sink, or swim, as they say.”

“You’re actually sitting there across from me, proposing we try to work it out?”

The world is getting stranger every day. That’s for fucking sure.

“In a way, yes. But, I’m not saying, ‘Hey, let’s jump in bed’. For once. I’m saying, ‘Let’s try to be friends’.”

I stare at him, aghast. Fucking friends. He wants to be friends. With me. This is too much, almost. And yet, it sounds like a brilliant

plan. If it works, it could be really great. A giant leap for mankind. If Brian Kinney can find his way out of this mess, and manage to

become a little more human, then shit, of course I’ll try it. I don’t want to go on like this. It’s been torture, not talking to him, and not

seeing him all the time. Not to mention not kissing him, fucking him, holding him against me as we sleep… STOP! Okay. None of

that. Just friends. Just talking, and seeing. No touching. Cool. I can swing that. I can TRY to swing that.

“Okay. Fine. Let’s be friends.”

“Good. That’s settled.”

“Yeah.”

If my stomach was all fucked up with pent up nerves before, it’s now wound up about as tight as virgin asshole. The vibe has totally

shifted to, ‘What the fuck do we do next?’ complete with shifty eyes and nervous half-smiling. And a seemingly endless interval of

silence.

“You want a ride home?”

“Sure.”

And we leave. Head to the jeep and he starts the engine. I can’t believe what’s happening. This is like the fucking “Twilight Zone”.

When will the asteroids start hitting? When will a leprechaun in drag jump out and say: “APRIL FOOLS!” I’m expecting some really

crazy shit to just randomly happen right now to prove this is all some kind of warning sign for disaster.

“So, where does he live?” Brian’s voice snaps me back from my inane thoughts.

“Huh?”

“The Fiddler. Where’s his place?”

“Oh.” I give him directions.

“So, how’s that going?”

Uh, no. I can’t let him ask me about this shit. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, come on. It’s all right with me. I asked.”

I’m way shy of convinced. “You are not all right with it! You can’t even say his name!”

“Well, maybe that’s because I never knew it to begin with. You know I forget names easily.” He shoots me a look. Like I need a

reminder. Still, I know he’s lying.

“You know his name is Ethan. You just like making him sound silly by calling him ‘Fiddle Boy’, or ‘Fiddler on the Roof’.” I laugh.

“You’re so juvenile.”

I look over at him, and he literally has his tongue in his cheek. I love when he does that. He looks so cute. I smile again.

“You should know. Mr. I-love-Power-Puff-Girls,” he taunts.

“Oh, fuck you. At least I’m mature about important things.”

He snorts. “Right. That’s just what you like to think.”

I stay quiet, and just sit there contemplating. I don’t really want to speak. Just try to understand what’s happening, so I can get over it,

and move on with this new development.

“Stop thinking about it,” Brian says to me.

“Stop reading my thoughts!”

He laughs. “I can’t help it.”

“It’s the third building on the right,” I inform him as we turn onto Ethan’s street.

“Must be a hard fall for you. Living at my fabulous place, and now this nowhere-near-fabulous dump.”

“I don’t live here, Brian.” I’m surprised he hasn’t found that out yet.

He stops the car in front of the building, and looks over at me. “Where do you live?”

“I’m back at my mom’s.”

“Oh.” He looks relieved. “Well, maybe I’ll come by some time. If you promise that your mom won’t kill me.”

“I don’t think she will. She likes you better than you think.”

He snickers. “She fucking hates me, Justin. I stole her ‘wittle boy’.”

I laugh at him. “I think she’s over that. Believe me. I live with her. I’ve talked to her about certain things, and I don’t think she hates

you.”

“Good. Then maybe I will stop by.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call you,” he says as I get out of the car.

“All right.” I look at him before I close the door, and let him know something I’ve decided. “I’m glad we’re friends, Brian.”

He looks serious again. Sobered, even. “ I’m glad too. I’m sorry I’ve been a dick lately.”

Damn. Apologies? We sure are moving along quickly. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Later.”

“Later,” I say, before shutting the door.

I’m still feeling confused as I walk up the stairs to Ethan’s apartment. But, now it’s a confusion mixed with happiness. The knots that

were twisted in my stomach are gone. I don’t feel as much pressure in the back of my mind. I feel a bit more at peace. Like, maybe

now I can settle down.

I open the door to Ethan’s with my recently acquired key, and notice that I still have the key to the loft on the ring. I always forget to

give it back. Well, Brian never asked for it back either, so… maybe it’s best for me to keep it. Maybe neither one of us wants to give

in so simply. Maybe that’s what this is all about.

I walk into the living room, and find Ethan sitting on the couch, reading a book. Not practicing away like I thought he would be. I rush

over and give him a kiss.

“You’ll never fucking believe what happened today!” I tell him, hardly pausing as I launch into the story.

8. Highly Evolved

So, I’m all fucked up in the head. So, what else is new? I’m just fucked up in a different way lately. A more appropriate way. A little

more understandable of a way. If I was letting people in on it, they may actually be able to relate, and even share with me on the topics

whirling around in my head. But, let’s not get too fucked up here. I’m not one to share. I don’t like it, because I don’t do it well. I also

don’t like it, because it leaves me exposed. Open like a public viewing. And that can lead to thrashing, trashing, and general mayhem

run amuck. Whether it’s because someone decided to use my feelings against me, or because I decided to use my feelings against

THEM. Somewhere along the way it becomes a big emotional fucked up paradise lost.

Except lately. With Justin. I’ve been sort of sharing. Since a few nights ago, when I went to him to declare peace. A truce of sorts. A

hopeful prospect for a brighter future. Because, I finally want one. I want some kind of future that doesn't involve all of this, and that

does involve Justin. I can't keep denying that to myself. I can still deny it out loud to other people, but lying to myself isn’t really lying

to begin with. It’s more like an internal battle of wills. This time I’m trying to win the right war.

I’ve always known the truth, and running from it just leaves me as the loser at every turn. I am a fucking loser. Never thought I’d

consider myself in that light. Maybe when I was in high school, and hated everything in general, due to a fabulous home life. As I got

older, I became the type that holds myself in the highest regard. But not anymore. I’m a total loser, because I can’t allow myself to be

happy, if it means giving into someone else. Mainly, Justin. I’d rather say ‘Fuck it! Go to hell!’, and be a fucking liar, than say ‘I like

being with you’.

The one time I really told him that I wanted him around was after he walked out on me after I couldn’t answer his question about why

I kept him around. I did give in enough to tell him I wanted him. But, somehow, somewhere along the way it just got too hard to say

anything like that to him. Ever. One time we were fucking around in bed, and he asked me to fuck him raw, and after I refused, I

remember how my guard slipped, and I told him that I wanted him around for a long time. I think that was the last time I told him that

I wanted him at all. How pathetic is that?

Oh, well, then there was the time that he wanted to go away, and I told him that I wanted to spend the week with him. I did. I wanted

to just go spend time with him. Justin. No one else. I wasn’t only fine with idea, but looking forward to it. But then… then fucking

Ryder had to screw it up by selling the damn agency without so much as a head’s up to yours truly, and I found myself fighting for the

job that I’m so good at. No Vermont. No week with Justin. And he got pissed and went on the trip alone. I couldn’t believe he did that.

If he hadn’t done that, I don’t know… I think maybe things would be different now. If I had explained to him about the complete

picture, and what was at stake, he would have understood. I think he was so happy, he was expecting me to screw it up somehow. I

guess maybe I was too. And that’s exactly what we both got, I guess. Back then, just for the moment, I felt like maybe I could do it.

Have this relationship, and this high-paying job, and great place to live. I believed for a few seconds that I could conquer the world,

and things would maybe be all right. If he’d been there when I got home, I don’t know what I would’ve revealed to him. I was in a

better mood that night than I can ever remember being in for a long long time. Until I got the news. No sharing. No sharing my

success. Justin’s gone. Justin said, “Fuck you,” without saying the words. And I guess I was hurt. I guess I was wrong.

So, my fucked up head lately is pondering all these incidents, and warring with itself about my life philosophy, and my emotions, and

what they mean, and how to express them, and all kinds of bullshit. It’s called a “Reflective Period”. No one can fight those, not even

me. You can bury it for a while, and keep yourself busy with other shit, but it just stays there until you deal with it, and take action.

That’s why I went to Justin, and acted like a civil human being. I realized that it really was ridiculous to be agonizing over the whole

scenario, and not be doing anything to alleviate the tension built up with all of these fucking conflicts. It was either torture myself

even more, or just admit defeat, and take a shot. I knew Justin would be receptive. How could he not be? I’m the bastard out of the

two of us. I knew if I approached him the right way, he’d be cool with it. Suspicious, I could tell, but accepting. I think I shocked him

more than I shocked myself. His expression throughout the night was fucking priceless. If I had a penchant for drawing, I’d sketch his

face. But, I’m not really good at that in any way, shape, or form. It was cute though. It made me laugh to myself. The entire gesture

seemed ludicrous. I almost got up and walked out a few times. And I’m sure he wouldn’t have thought it odd. He was probably

expecting it.

But I didn’t want to keep hiding under that veil of ‘I just don’t give a fuck’. I’m really surprised it’s worked for this long. Really. I

mean, shit it almost seems so obvious that a blind person could see it. My little act. I was living that lie for years until he came along,

and called me on my bullshit. He didn’t try to make me change. He just tried to get me to drop the act. To stop pretending for once. At

least with him. And I did, sometimes. I could be slightly up front, and real with him when I wasn’t paying attention. But, most of the

time, I went on pretending. For my sake. Not his. No one else’s. Or maybe everyone else’s. For someone who doesn’t give a fuck

what people think, I do in fact love my image, and I love maintaining it. Appearances mean a lot to me. If they didn’t, I’d probably be

happy right now, with Justin by my side, instead of excruciating over every little detail of why he’s not.

I can’t really remember when I started thinking like that, but what does it matter now? I’m a fucking pretender. And he definitely is

not. He hates to pretend. He did a lot of it, at the end, when we were slowly falling apart. He tried to act like we weren’t, and he closed

off completely. Just as I did. It was so fucking empty. Everything between us. The conversation, the air, the looks. Everything but the

sex. We’d put all our effort into that. All the feelings we held back. Everything. Every tiny detail was here when we were fucking. I

knew it. And I’m pretty damn certain that he knew it too.

I remember that night he came home from fucking the other guy. The night after I really KNEW he was doing it. I already knew, I

guess, but having it confirmed by fucking Mikey, of all people. I couldn’t ignore it anymore. It made me sick.

When he walked through the door, I didn’t know what I was going to do to him. Part of me wanted to just give in to his every demand.

All his wants and needs. Another part wanted me to go on pretending. Another part wanted to fucking hurt him real bad. Really let

him have it.

I wanted him. That night, he looked so fucking good. He already seemed so out of reach to me. I couldn’t quite touch him where he

was. I really wanted to though. I wanted it all to be a lie. I didn’t want him to be fucking around. But, I couldn’t blame him. I wanted

to kill him for coming home to me after whatever romp he was on, but I wanted to fuck him even more. Wanted to fuck him until

every single particle of his brain was erased of any memories of the other guy. I wanted to fuck him harder, slower, deeper, faster,

better, than Fiddle Fuck ever could strive to. I wanted him to realize that THAT was what it was all about. That’s what mattered. The

actions. The ‘feelings’ you could interpret from my actions. And fucking is one of my greatest tools of interpretation.

I started to tear at him; to force him to me, and make him want me more than he could handle. Work him up. Work myself up. Just let

it all out. I started to. I was going to go through with it. But I had to let him know. He had to get it. I wasn’t going to just let him have

his cake, and eat it too. His little routine, wasn’t working. I’m not some ignorant housewife. I know when shit’s going on. And that’s

why I stopped. I stopped just when he really really wanted it. Wanted me so bad. And I left him lying there on the cold hardwood

floor. Alone. No me. I was telling him that he couldn’t have me on those terms. It was decision time. That was my first way of telling

him to choose. His first chance to figure out what the hell he was going to do. Obviously, he didn’t take the clue.

That night was hard for me. It was kind of the night that sealed our fate. After that, I knew it was fucked. Something was going to

happen, and I wasn’t going to like it, but what could I do about it? I decided that at least one of us should be happy, instead of us both

being so fucking miserable all the time. And since I’m so damn used to being unhappy, and unfeeling, well it should be Justin who

gets to have the upside. He deserves it way more than I do. His life is just starting. It should be a good start. I’ll just keep sailing this

ocean of one-time thrills, and try not to wreck on any precarious islands or rocks. I’m accustomed to the lonely path. Justin is still the

type to depend on others all the time. It’s just another lesson he’s yet to learn. But he will. He will. I think he may be slowly learning

that lesson at present. Looking out for himself, and whatnot. We’ve talked about that a little.

I haven’t seen him since Saturday, but we’ve talked every single day since. It’s become a nightly ritual I guess. Even though it’s only

been going on for three nights. Well… tonight will be the fourth. And Friday, he’s coming over for dinner. I’m really looking forward

to that one.

It’s been alarmingly easy to talk to Justin lately. I thought it would be more awkward. It’s definitely new territory for me. It’s just

different with him. I can talk to Lindsay, and I can talk to Mikey, but I’ve never fucked either of them for two years straight, and I’ve

never lived with either of them for a year. The vibe is just… different. He knows me way more than anyone else does. And although,

that is scary, and makes me shudder somewhat, I really like it. It feels sort of… good. I’m glad that it’s Justin I guess. It’s nice to

know how much someone cares about you, and how much weight they put on your words, and how they appreciate you letting them

in. And I actually feel good doing it. Yes, I get freaked out, but I tell him that. I’ll be in the middle of some story, and just stop to say:

“You’re freaking me out.” And he knows exactly what I mean. He just laughs and says: “Continue.”

I look forward to talking to him on the phone. I can’t wait for Friday, and feel like even more of a loser for being so damn excited that

I’m actually going after what I want in the right way for a change. Almost seems as silly to me as never openly wanting anything,

outside of a good fuck, of course.

It’s nearing 11 pm. That’s when we talk. I’ve called him the past three times. Maybe tonight, I should see if he calls me. Let him get

anxious when he hasn’t heard form me by 11:15, and see if he takes some damn initiative. Cuz for fuck’s sake, I sure as hell can’t do

this alone. If he can’t help me, no one can.

Ha. I wonder what Mikey would think if he knew what I was doing. If he knew that I was processing all these emotions, and thinking

all these thoughts, and trying to rebuild some sort of relationship with Justin. I know he still hasn’t talked to Justin since the Rage

party. They just called it quits, and decided to be stubborn-ass shits. I knew they would too. So now it’s up to me, as always, to repair

the damage. I have to make them get back together for the sake of the comic book. If they don’t I’ll hold it over their heads for fucking

eternity. I put a lot of money into that stupid comic, not to mention all the shit that happened after the OTHER Rage incident. The one

where I queened out and threw the ultimate temper tantrum, without an audience. But, oh, the repercussions. Not my finest hour. Well,

I went through a lot of crap because of their comic book, based on me, I might add, and I invested steeply, so they better cash in,

instead of out. They just need a push really. They’re mad at something ridiculous. It’ll be forgotten in five minutes, once I get

involved.

Maybe I’ll talk about it with Justin tonight. Maybe he’ll be the bigger man. Ha. That would probably infuriate Mikey even more. He’s

always getting upstaged by a teenager. That has to hurt his pride. Mikey is hilarious. He’s the perpetual 15-year-old. I don’t think

that’ll ever change. Hell, at least I know I’m acting, but he really is stuck on one fucking mode. He grows past certain things every so

often, but generally, he remains good ol’ Mikey. Hopefully Ben will continue to influence him positively. Well, er, wrong choice of

words. Ben is good for Mikey, and hopefully his good sense, and very adult qualities will rub off on him. That’s what I mean.

Man, I really need a fucking hobby. Maybe that would make me forget to think for a while. I don’t do anything anymore. I used to

fuck all the time, but now I just do it sometimes. With far less frequency. My damn head gets in the way. No pun intended. For once.

I’ve been considering it though. Getting a hobby. A real one.

I really wish I could clear my head. But, when the floodgates open…

Phone’s ringing. Excellent. The little fucker called me.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Brian.”

“How goes it, Sunshine?”

“All right, I guess. Today was busy. Tiring, even.”

“New piece?”

“Yeah. I started on it a few days ago, and now it’s really shaping up nicely.”

“Ah-ha. Newfound inspiration?” Come on, throw me a bone, Sonny Boy.

“Not really. More like rediscovered.”

Hmm. That’s cause enough for a smile. This talking shit can work out nicely sometimes. “What’s it about?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Why not?”

“A little mystery needs to be kept. I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“That’s a total cop out, and you know it.”

He laughs. “Whatever. I’m not telling you shit.”

“Fine. Don’t.”

“How was your day?”

“It was pretty average.” This is the most compelling part of it right here. “Same shit, you know.”

“Yeah. Did you still want to get together on Friday?”

“I guess so. Why?”

“Just making sure.”

“You’ve been inked onto my schedule so you better show.”

“If I feel like it,” he teases.

“Right. Well if the mood suits you, let me know.”

“Will do,” he pauses. “So, what is tonight’s tale going to be?” He sounds amused.

“Fuck you. That’s why I’ve never bothered with telling you these things.”

“Shut up, and spill. I’m like your totally free head doctor.”

I snort. “Nothing with you is free.” Damn. See. Guard slipping. Fuck.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you’re a fucking charity case.”

“Well, I guess we’re a couple of high-class hookers.”

“Yeah, with a little too much excess baggage.”

“Who has more baggage than hookers?”

“Not many people, I guess.”

“Man, I really should start charging admission.”

“Duh. You’d be a fucking millionaire by now. The world’s first tax-paying prostitute.”

We take our time to chuckle over that, and for some reason we delve into the psychological repercussions of getting paid for sex, as

opposed to being a total slut, like me, without the money issue. He continues to amaze me with his intellect. I can’t believe he’s only

been in college for a year now. And I know he’s not taking any psych courses. This boy just knows his shit.

“Anyway,” he says finally, “We’ll never have to deal with that, so… That is, unless you have a personal backstory you’d like to

share?” He loves to taunt.

“You’re funny. I think you should give up the drawing bullshit, and take to stand-up. You’re routine would be fabulous.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Could I stop you?”

“No.”

“As long as it’s not too surprising. I can only handle being thrown off guard so many times in one week.”

“Pipe down, Ellen. I just want you to answer truthfully.”

I feel him hesitate. “Okay.”

“Do you think I’m boring?”

Pause. Uproarious laughter.

“I’m serious!” I tell him.

“That’s the funny part,” he says through his laughter.

“Just shut up and answer me.”

“Why would you ever think you were boring?”

“Just because. Answer me.”

“Oh, Brian. You crack me up. You lead a very action packed, interesting life. Believe me. Your life is like a fucking day-time drama.

With lots of homo sex. You’re life is a porno with way too intricate plots for the writer’s capacity.”

“See that’s exactly what I mean. Any time the words ‘Brian Kinney’ are brought up, everyone immediately thinks ‘sex’, like it’s all I

do.”

“Well…”

“You twat. You lived with me for a year, you know I don’t fuck all fucking day. I do other things.”

“Like what?”

“I work. I exercise…”

“And?”

“EXACTLY! I’m fucking boring! I might as well be Ted fucking Schmidt. Oh no, wait… Ted’s a porn king now. Even that sad fuck

has a more interesting life than I do.”

“Brian, calm down. You are not boring. You just… you have… very few interests.”

“Oh, well, in that case.”

“Look what exactly are you trying to accomplish with this discussion?”

Well isn’t that the fucking question of the century. What am I trying to gain from ANY of these discussions? I know what. But I’ll

never tell. As for this particular one, well…

“I think I need a hobby.”

“Okay. Like what?”

“Jesus, Justin, I don’t fucking know. Why do you think I’m asking you?”

“You’re not asking me, Brian. Is that what you want to know? What I think you’d be good at?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Um, well… I mean, was there ever anything you did when you were younger? Anything you were interested in outside of school?”

Yeah, I avoided getting my ass kicked, as much as possible. I did sort of write though. Sometimes.

“Well, occasionally, I wrote. But I don’t think I was ever really good at it.”

“How do you know? I bet you got really good grades in English. Did you ever take a writing class?”

“Yeah. In college, I took Creative Writing. I did all right.”

“Well there you go. Write.”

“Like it’s that simple.”

“It is,” he says matter-of-factly. “If you want to do it, just do it. It’ll be easier once you get used to it. When you hang up the phone

with me, just grab a piece of paper, and start writing. It can be something completely ridiculous, or something deeply profound. The

point isn’t really the content to begin with, it’s the act. It’s like purging. When I draw, I get out all of the emotions that I’m feeling

through the subject. I’d imagine it’s the same with writing. There are lots of ways to release what you feel, you just have to let it

flow.”

Let it flow. Instead of blocking it inside. Maybe that would put my head back in its right place. If I could just lower my inhibitions

enough to let myself express some of the shit I’ve been thinking. Just to paper. Just to myself. I’ll hide away, and no one will ever read

it. No one even has to know it exists. It’ll be just for me. Maybe I can deal with that. Maybe then I’d feel better.

“Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

“That’s great, Brian.”

I can feel him smiling even through these damn telephone wires.

“Thanks Sunshine.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t have thought about writing if I hadn’t had this talk with you. My head’s too fucking full to be coming up

with new ideas for activities.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Here, huh?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Shit. He’s not fucking here. That’s the whole point of these little phone conversations. He’s not sitting next to me, so this

is the last resort, or the next best thing, depending on how you look at it.

“Well, do you want me to let you go, so you can give it a shot?”

“Huh?” What?

“Do you want to get off the phone, so you can try writing?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Do you wanna get off the phone?”

I can feel him smiling again.

“I can’t fucking believe it. Brian Kinney actually LIKES talking on the phone with me. Wonders never cease. If you’re not ready to

hang up, just tell me.”

Now I’m smiling. This fucking kid. “Fuck you. I’m just bored.”

“Right. I guess you’ve been ‘just bored’ for the past four nights at exactly 11 PM, huh?”

“Don’t forget, you’re the one who called ME tonight.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I wanted to talk to you. Not because I was bored.”

“You are SO fishing.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Oh my god, look… I obviously want to talk to you, otherwise I wouldn’t be wasting my time.”

“How are you wasting your time, if you were bored, anyway?”

I’m going to kill him. “I’m not bored, all right? I want to talk to you.”

“You know it’s tiring to have to twist your arm every time you hide behind your lame-ass excuses.”

“Listen you little shit, don’t push your luck. If you keep getting on my nerves like this, I’m gonna hang up without saying goodbye.”

“And be left to your own devices? How boring.”

“I swear to god!” But I’m laughing. Why is he making me laugh, when I should be furious, and annoyed, and hanging up on his ass.

“Cut it out.”

“Fine. So, what do you wanna talk about?”

“I don’t know. Take your pick. I’m new at this, remember?”

“I bet until the other night, you’ve never spent more than two minutes on a phone, have you?”

“Not really. I don’t like phones. People usually bore me in person, why let them do it from far away?”

“Wow. That’s one the highest compliments I’ve ever gotten from you.”

“The highest compliment you’ve ever gotten from me was your dick up my ass,” I say it before I can stop myself. Fuck me. It just

flew out of my mouth like nothing. This is why I need to be in my right mind. These little displays that I would normally NEVER let

slip. They just aren’t guarded properly at the moment.

Silence. He’s stunned into silence. As am I. Brilliant, Kinney. Fucking ace!

“Imagine if anyone knew about that. How flabbergasted they would be. You paying me that kind of compliment. They wouldn’t

believe it, would they?” He’s speaking softly now, not sad, or sullen, just very real, and honest. I so admire that in him. That he can be

so open at times.

“Probably not, but fuck them.”

“Yeah. I guess so. They wouldn’t even believe we’re on speaking terms now, let alone that we’re friends.”

Friends. Hmmm. Yeah, I guess we are friends. We really are. Fucking strange. “Well, they don’t need to know any of that. They’d just

be punk-ass bitches about it anyway.”

He starts laughing loudly. Really loudly.

“What are laughing at?”

“Punk-ass bitches?” More laughter.

“Fuck you. I learned that phrase from you.”

“That’s cute. You’re cute, Brian.”

“I’m not cute, I’m the hottest guy you’ve ever met.”

“Don’t be so sure. I meet hot guys all the time.” He’s using his deliberate, mocking tone. I know that one, trying to get me to give in.

Again.

“Whatever, they don’t even compare to my staggering hotness. I’m hot with three fucking T’s.”

“I’ve always admired your self-confidence, or is it called vanity? I forget.”

“I just call it ‘the truth’.”

“Yeah, whatever. I am NOT about to confirm your little assertion. Not even I like stroking your ego all the time.”

Insert bad pun here. No. I can’t. “Nor will you deny my claims, because you KNOW they are totally true.”

“Whatever gets you by.”

“Oh, I get by. Don’t worry about that.”

“I never have. Not on that score. Do you even keep score anymore?”

“Like I said, regular fucking comedian.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Are you drawing right now?”

“Huh?”

“Are you?”

“Just doodling. How did you know?”

“I figured. You always used to doodle or whatever, when you were on the phone with Daphne for a long time.”

“Ah, so you do notice the small details.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I have eyes and ears like everybody else.”

“And yet, somehow, you always come off as so goddamn indifferent to most things. The little stuff I mean. You do little things all the

time, but I just… didn’t think you paid attention that closely, I guess.”

“Well, surprise then.”

“You are full of them lately.”

“Yeah. I definitely am full of something.”

I love the sound of his laughter. “I guess I’m gonna go. This drawing is turning into more than a doodle.”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Definitely. Try out the writing thing, okay?”

“I will. Later.”

“Later.”

I click off the phone.

For a while I just sit there. Trying to process all we talked about. Trying to memorize the conversation from start to finish. Trying to

make it last.

Then I think about my plan to write. To try this expression thing. Maybe it’ll work.

I get up, and walk over to the desk to get a note pad, and a pen. Then I decide to shut off the lights, and head for the bedroom.

In the warm blue light of the glowing bulbs over the bed, I place my pen on the paper, and begin the purging.

9. Just Another Moonlight Mile

I get confused sometimes. Okay, so most of the time, I am confused. I don’t know what I’m doing. Actually, no, I know exactly what

I’m doing. And I think maybe that’s worse. See… I’ve been seeing Brian A LOT lately. And while we haven’t engaged in any type of

sexual activity… we’ll conveniently forget the kiss last night… I still feel like I’m wronging Ethan. The truth is, I don’t know why

I’m with Ethan anymore. We hardly ever see each other. When we do it’s nice. Really nice. But, there’s not much substance. It’s

really hard when things are nice all the time. I’d almost prefer if he would fuck up on occasion. I sometimes want to fuck up. I almost

do, even. I mean, hanging out with Brian isn’t what you would call easy. It may appear that way, but there is a subtext to everything

between us. Every word. Every look. Every smile. Every breath. I pay attention to him in such detail that I have to congratulate myself

for every day that passes without me jumping his bones.

I know he would in a nanosecond. I would too, except… Okay, it isn’t really about Ethan. I mean, that’s part of it, but mostly I’m

scared. Brian and I always manage to fuck it up. Always. Without fail. So, I’m trying to avoid the fall-out. But… we both know

neither of us will last with this little routine we have going. It’s a great routine. A comfortable one. One that teaches us little things

about each other every day, but it lacks. It seems shallow almost, that sex is so important. It is though. I can’t help that. Brian sure as

hell can’t help that. I’ve often wondered why he doesn’t just legally change his name to Sex. He practically is anyway. Sex is a huge

factor in any relationship. And seeing as ours started with sex, well… let’s just say that it was built on sex, and although it has grown

and extended into other areas, without that key element it leaves a dangerous want and need in both of us.

It will all go back to that eventually. I know that for a fact. He knows it too. We’ve been biding our time ever since he walked into the

diner three months ago, and asked me for friendship. And now, it’s nearing the breaking point. I can feel it. Last night was a slip on

my part that indicated danger. Danger of falling back into the same trap. I don’t want it to feel like a trap, but unfortunately it does. I

don’t want to revert back to the way we were. I want to keep moving forward. The past is done. The past was imperfect. I know the

future will be imperfect as well, but it could sure as hell be closer to good. Maybe even great.

See, once the sex element is back in place, the whole dynamic changes again. It will become something different. Which can be good

or bad, and there’s no way of knowing until it happens. That’s why I’m scared. I think the law of probability is on my side, but who’s

to say with Brian Kinney? He loves to switch it up. Pull a fast one. You never see it coming. You start thinking the coast is clear, then

WHAM! He hits you with a ton of bricks. I try to always come prepared. Prepared for absolutely ANYTHING. I don’t think there is

one thing that he is incapable of. Not one. He keeps me on my toes, that’s for damn sure.

“Justin!” My mother’s voice breaks through my thoughts. Then I hear a knock, and the door swings open. Why do mothers NEVER

wait for your permission to come barging in your room? As if a knock is fair warning. Might as well just burst in without the pointless

gesture.

“Good thing I wasn’t jerking off.”

“Excuse me?”

I try not to laugh. “Nothing.”

“You’re not funny, Justin.”

“Neither are you, Mom.”

She gives me the ‘Mother Glare’. I’m not going to spontaneously combust. Get on with it, already!

“In case you’re interested, the phone is for you.”

As she tells me this, I notice the phone in her hand for the first time. I hadn’t heard it ring. However, she’s making no move to hand it

to me.

“Well? Who is it?”

“Brian.”

“Okay. Can I have the phone, then?”

“Yes. But I want to talk to you after.”

Oh great. That should be a joyous conversation.

“Whatever,” I say in an annoyed tone, and extend my arm so that she’ll give me the damn phone. I can’t stand moms sometimes.

She puts it in my hand and walks out of the room, without closing the door. Of course. It’s like she wants to do any little thing she can

to annoy me. It’s beyond exasperating.

“Hey,” I say into the phone.

“What the fuck was all that about?”

“I have no clue.”

I get off the bed and move to close the door.

“I told you that woman hates my guts.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s my mom. She’s being protective, that’s all.”

“Whatever the fuck. I stand by my version. Why the hell isn’t your cell phone on?”

“I forgot to turn it on this morning. Haven’t thought about it, actually.”

“Well, then it’s your fault. If you’d answered my call to your cell, that little scene could have been avoided.”

“Oh well.”

“So… what are you doing today?”

Well, Ethan is coming back tonight. But, we don’t have plans. I guess I’m available. Although, I should be a decent boyfriend and

show up at his place or something. Let him know I still care.

“I don’t have any plans.” Fuck! Not what you’re supposed to say!

“Good. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“What for?”

“We need to talk.”

Oh shit. Why? Why the fuck does he have to bring this up now? We’ve had very open lines of communication these past months, but

never has he uttered those words before. That is the heavy line everyone dreads hearing. If we were together it could mean that we’re

breaking up, but not being together, it probably means something like we’re sorting it out. I don’t know if I can do this right now. I

still have Ethan to think about. And all my own shit. Fuck!

“About what?” My voice comes out weak and startled.

“Things.”

Fuck. Not things. No. Shit. I have to, though. We should get it over with. Besides, he’s taking the initiative. That’s not a bad thing. It’s

a great thing. A fantastic thing. He’s getting better and better at expressing himself every day. I can’t deny him this if he wants it. That

would be unfair of me.

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Sunshine. It’s not going to kill you.”

“Is it going to make me stronger?”

I can feel his smile, as he hesitates. A soft smile. I can’t really hear it in his answer, though.

“I think so.”

“I guess I’ll be ready.”

“Later.”

“Later.”

I hang up the phone and sit there more confused than before. Fuck me. Today is the moment of truth. Today we run the gauntlet.

Today we sink or swim. Fuck me.

Once again Mom knocks on the door, and comes in immediately after. She stands there looking at me, and crosses her arms.

“So,” she says in her breezy manner.

“So what?”

“So what’s going on with you and Brian?”

“I told you, Mom. We’re friends.”

“You two have been spending an awful lot of time together lately.”

“Yeah, well, we have fun together.”

“And what does Ethan think of all the fun you have together?”

“Oh my god, Mom! What is your problem? I’m not with Brian. I haven’t been with him for four months. I’ve already explained to you

that Ethan doesn’t mind me spending time with Brian. He trusts me. Unlike some people I know.”

“Justin… I trust you. I just don’t trust Brian.”

“I thought you liked Brian? What about all those conversations we had about him before I started hanging out with him again?”

“I meant what I said. I do like Brian. I think he’s a good man at heart, but I still don’t trust him. If he’s spending all this time with you,

he obviously expects to get something out of it.”

“Yeah. My friendship. Is that a foreign concept to you?”

“Justin,” she uses her deeper ‘I know better than you’ voice. “I’m not an idiot. You and Brian can’t be just friends. You just can’t.

There are ulterior motives at play here. Are you breaking up with Ethan?”

“No!”

“Well, I never see HIM around anymore.”

“He’s around, he’s just busy.”

“Right, well, are you two going to stay busy with other things the entire time you go out?”

“I don’t know, Mother. I don’t have it all mapped out.”

“Are you sure? You’re not going to drop Ethan if Brian says the word?”

“No!”

She just stares at me hard. Doesn’t say a word. She’s waiting for me to speak again. But, to speak truthfully. Damn mothers!

“I don’t know… Maybe… Probably.”

She moves closer to the bed, and sits down beside me, throwing her arm around me.

“Look… I think it’ll be easier for you to be on your own when you make this decision. Why not cool it off with Brian for now, and

talk to Ethan. If it’s not working out, then break up with him. But, don’t cheat on him like you cheated on Brian.”

“I’m not cheating on Ethan, Mom! Brian and I aren’t having sex, but I can’t put a hold on my relationship with him. He needs me

right now. He’s been trying really hard. I need to be supportive. I can’t just ditch him after all the progress he’s made.”

“Well, Justin, you have to ditch someone. Regardless of whether or not you and Brian are sleeping together, you can’t maintain a

relationship with Ethan if Brian is around. It just won’t work. I think you know that. You two practically never see each other, and you

spend more time with Brian now than anyone else. I think it’s obvious. Just decide. This is your second chance. And this time, don’t

let anyone decide for you. Do it yourself.”

And with that, she kisses my temple, and swishes out of the room. I’m left staring after her in awe. Moms can be right sometimes.

Why does she have to be right this time?

I sit here a while longer weighing my options, even though it’s entirely unnecessary. The choice is obvious. Practically non-existent.

But I still feel like an asshole. Why do I get myself into these situations?

I change clothes and brush my teeth, then I sit on the bed and ponder some more. I retrieve my shoes from the closet, and as I sit there

tying the laces, I hear the doorbell. As soon as my shoes are tied I dash down the hall, and halt the dashing when I realize that my

mom has already answered the door. I try for casual, as I stroll down the stairs.

“I’m doing all right, how are you?”

“Just fine, Brian. Would you like to come in?”

“That’s all right. I think Justin’s ready.” He sees me over my Mom’s shoulder.

She turns to face me, and gives me a look. Oh. I forgot to tell her that Brian was coming to pick me up. Oops.

“Bye, Mom,” I say with a bright smile, and kiss her cheek.

“When will you be home?”

“I don’t know. You can eat without me if I’m not back.”

“Okay, sweetie. Be careful. Bye, Brian.”

“Mrs. Taylor.”

We walk out towards the jeep.

“Civil of you not to honk the horn,” I tell him halfway down the path.

“Well, I thought it’d earn me some points. Why didn’t you tell her I was coming?”

“Forgot.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, you knob, I forgot to tell her. She was getting onto me about something, and I forgot to mention that you were coming.”

He unlocks the passenger door for me, before moving around to the driver’s side.

“What was she getting onto you about?” he asks me once we’re settled in the jeep.

“Things.” I echo his ominous word from our earlier conversation.

“In other words, me,” he says with his tongue in his cheek as he starts the engine, and pulls away from the curb.

“Among other things.”

“In other words, the Fiddler.”

I just look at him, and swallow my comment.

He chuckles. “Good ol’ Mom.”

“She made a good point though. And she reiterated that she LIKES you, so fuck your version. I’m in the right, here.”

“Hmmm… So are you saying that your mom is hoping I’ll triumph over the Pied Piper?”

I laugh at that. “You’re so retarded. My mom doesn’t give a flying fuck about you triumphing over anything. She only cares about

me.”

“So, she’s hoping I triumph, because she knows that I’m best for you.”

I can’t believe he’s straight out talking about this.

“It’s not a competition, Brian.”

“That’s all in the interpretation.”

I spend the rest of the ride to the loft in deep thought, and silent dread. We exchange some silly banter, but I’m only half involved in

it. I can tell Brian is slightly nervous as well. He’s relaxed though. It’s very odd. He seems confident, yet hesitant. That makes me

even more jittery. But I’m pretty sure I’m not physically shaking. I think it’s just my soul that’s doing that.

The elevator ride to the top floor is long and agonizing. I keep my eyes glued to the floor, and I feel Brian’s eyes trained on me. But, I

can’t meet his gaze.

After an excruciating eternity, we’re standing in front of his door, which he unlocks quickly, and I follow him in. Part of me wants to

run back out. Flee now, before it’s too late. But, there’s no turning back. I remember when Brian said those words to me. “It’s too late,

there’s no turning back.” That was the first time I ever felt any kind of acknowledgment from him that I mattered. That he cared where

I was, and what I was doing with my life. I felt that slightly when he saved me from living with my prick of a father, but that felt like

something that anyone human would do. The night at Babylon was just… it was the first time Brian totally surprised me, and made me

feel good about myself. Made me feel like we had a future together. That was the first time he let his guard down. I remember every

time since.

“You want a beer?”

“Yeah,” I answer, making my way to the living room, and settling on the couch. I wish he would give me a big bottle of something

harder to drink. I may want to be shit-faced once this is done.

He comes over with two beers, and hands me mine, sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

We sit in awkward silence, and alternate between sipping, and chugging our beers, until he finally speaks.

“Fuck, I don’t know where to start.”

I laugh uncomfortably, because I don’t know what else to do. “Don’t ask me.”

“Well, basically… I guess… the point is, that… I’m kind of…” He exhales sharply, “I’m tired of this dance we’re doing. How we

never really talk about us. We just kind of skirt around the issue. I think it’s time to stop doing that.”

“Yeah.” I drink more beer.

“I wanted to know what you think about getting back together.”

Wow. More direct than I expected him to be.

“Uh… I, um… I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“I don’t know,” I repeat.

“Bullshit. You know. I’m not asking if you want to, I’m asking what do you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? Jesus Christ, what’s with you today? You seem shell shocked.”

“Well, what the fuck do you expect? I don’t want to be having this conversation any more than you do!”

“If I didn’t want to talk about it, I wouldn’t. Now, stop being a pansy, and tell me what you think.”

I should’ve prepared myself better for this. I thought I had, but this is kind of overwhelming. I don’t know why all of a sudden I’m

more chicken shit than Brian about this talking matter. His policy of truth has blown to gargantuan proportions. I’m the well-adjusted

one. I should act more like it.

“You know what I think, Brian.”

“NO, I DON’T! If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“I think maybe one day-“

“Fuck that, Justin. Fuck the ‘one day’ excuse. We’re talking about NOW. Not ‘one day’. It’s been too many days already.”

I’m quiet for a minute. He’s kind of right. But, in a way, we needed all this time. We wouldn’t be sitting here right now doing all this

talking if it weren’t for all those days.

“Brian, I can’t right now.”

“Why is that?”

“You know why.”

“Right. Fucking Ethan.”

“Did you just say his name?”

“Fuck you.”

“Look it’s not because of Ethan. It’s because of me. I can’t just jump back into a relationship with you. Especially if I’m already in a

relationship.”

“And what relationship is that exactly? Cuz, from what I’ve seen, there’s more of a fucking relationship here than anywhere else.

Except of course, for the fucking.”

“Look, just because I spend time with you, and we’re friends, doesn’t mean you have a right to talk about anything concerning me and

Ethan. That is none of your business.”

“Like Hell it isn’t! It has everything to do with this. You honestly think that if you weren’t fucking him right now, we’d still be

apart?”

“I don’t know. That’s not the way things are. Deal with it!”

“I am dealing with it! I deal with it EVERY FUCKING DAY! You should learn how to FUCKING DEAL WITH IT!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME!”

He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. This gives me time to gather my thoughts, and it seems to

suppress some of his anger.

“Are you happy with him?” He finally asks me in a soft voice. It’s almost as frightening as the loud yelling.

I think of how to honestly answer that question. I want to be as truthful as I can.

“I don’t know. To a certain extent, I guess. I mean, we hardly ever see each other anymore. We’re both too busy. When we’re

together, it’s nice. He’s really good to me. But… it’s not like he keeps me going. He’s not the center of my universe, or anything.”

You are, I want to say. “It’s not really working out between us.”

“So why are you still with him?”

“I don’t really know. He’s just… I don’t want to hurt him.”

“So you’d rather hurt yourself? And hurt me?”

I look at him, and he turns to meet my gaze. I think his eyes could burn holes into mine if I stared too long. As it is, I think my heart is

melting.

“Am I hurting you?” I ask him in the softest way. A small, small voice from somewhere inside. I feel myself choking up, but I don’t

want to cry.

“Every time you walk out the door.”

And then I lose it. I start crying, and I don’t know how I’m going to stop. I just can’t comprehend this. This Brian sitting here, telling

me things I always wanted to hear. I don’t care if he doesn’t say ‘I love you’. He doesn’t have to. This is more than enough. This is

proof. These moments. These words. He IS giving me words. Because he knows I need them. Doesn’t matter if they are three words,

or ten, or fifty, or one. It doesn’t matter. I’m good at hearing what he’s trying to say. All those tiny implications between the lines.

He moves over to where I’m sitting and pulls me into his strong arms. I lay my head on his shoulder and sob. I try to calm myself as

much as I can, but it’s difficult. He keeps giving me so much of himself. Now that he’s given me this, I can’t keep letting him down. I

owe it to both of us to make this happen. Make it work, so we can start being happy. Together. I mean, we have been happy. For the

past three months or so. Everything’s been really good. But not quite complete. Not just yet.

There’s only one way to do that. And the first step is letting go of a certain violinist. I don’t want to lie to him, and cheat on him with

Brian. If I did, I would’ve done it already. I want to start this off right. I can’t add the sex now. Not until I sever my ties with Ethan.

Brian’s arms are wrapped so tightly around me, I fear my circulation will be cut off. I pull back, and wipe my eyes with the back of

my sleeve. He looks solemn, but caring. I want to kiss him so fucking badly right now. He looks so beautiful. I want to let it all go

right here and now. But, I can’t. I have to stick to my guns on this issue. Just a few more days is all. I can talk to Ethan, and have the

whole thing behind me, and I can move on from there. With Brian.

“I’ll wait for you,” he breaks the silence.

“What?”

“I’ll wait for you. Just, hurry the fuck up, would you?”

I smile, and then laugh, and he smiles too. I launch myself into his arms again, and whisper in his ear, “You won’t have to wait long.”

“I better not,” he whispers back.

I cling to him for dear life, and I realize that he IS my life. All I need is Brian, and art. I can survive with those two things. And those

two alone. If either of them was taken away, I’d be as good as dead.

10. Believing is Art

Two days ago I resolved to end it with Ethan. I pretty much had my mind made up all along, but what really pushed me over the edge

was Brian. When he uttered the words "I'll wait for you," I just about died. That right there was an "I love you". Perhaps the closest

thing to "I love you" that I'll ever get out of him, and now, I've really come to terms with it. It's okay if he can't say it. I know that it's

not because he doesn't feel it, and I know it's also not because he doesn't want to. It's just too hard for him. Saying "I love you" is like

giving in, to him. If he said it to me, he thinks I'd hold power over him. That I'd have something to use against him. Admitting that is

his final step. I know it is. It's his ultimate exposure. The one thing he will put on hold for as long as he possibly can. And I don't care.

Not now. He can do it when he's ready. At the rate he's going, maybe I won't have to wait forever. But whatever it takes is fine with

me.

For now, I'm faced with the unpleasant task of dumping a guy that I care about. I really do care about him. I even love him in a way. I

have a love for him, just not LOVE love. Not the kind of love I have for Brian. Not that strong, indescribable, unwavering, besotted,

unhinging, pulsating love that debilitates as much as it enthralls. It's not anything close to that.

Ethan and I were meant to find each other as friends. We'd be good together in that capacity, and I hope he'll want to stay friends with

me. He'll probably want to kick my ass for leaving him to go back to Brian, but, oh well. It was obviously not meant to work out either

way: with or without Brian in the mix.

With Brian, I learned that things could be too complicated. With Ethan, I learned that they could be too simple. Honestly, I don't know

which is worse. The only thing that makes it worthwhile are reciprocal feelings. If both parties aren't on the same page, how can it

last? Brian and I are on the same page. I know that for a fact now. When I think of all the changes he's gone through for me over the

past two years, my heart swells with joy. The last few months have seen the changes seeping closer and closer to the surface. Now,

Brian can actually show his feelings with something other than sex. I haven't given him that pleasure in far too long. I get hard just

thinking about that little reunion. I can only imagine what it'll feel like after this many months, after all that's happened in those

months.

We haven't gone this long without sex since I got out of the hospital last year, and moved into the loft. I have a feeling that this session

will be even more intense. I know it'll be one for the books.

Okay, I've gotta stop thinking about that now. I'm on a mission. A difficult one. I shouldn't be picturing sex with Brian, as if it's some

kind of reward for breaking up with Ethan. I don't even know if I should go see Brian today. I mean, that's kind of awkward. `Hey,

Ethan, I'm breaking up with you. Going back to the ex. See ya!' Turn the corner, `Hey, Brian, let's get it the fuck on!' It just seems

wrong. And I should know. I did it to them before, in reverse. It made me feel real shitty at the time, and I'd prefer not feeling shitty

during the reunion of a lifetime.

We'll just have to see how this plays out.

I finally pull up in front of Ethan's building. Mom let me borrow her car for the day. All I have to do is pick her up from work at 5:30.

Molly has a play date after school, so I don't have to worry about her. That gives me roughly six and a half hours before I have any

obligations. Maybe it's too early in the day to be doing this. I get out of the car, and hesitate for a moment, looking up at Ethan's

window.

I have to do this now. It won't be any less painful at any other time, on any other day. I NEED to do this now. I unlock the door to the

building and slowly walk up the stairs. I'm pretty sure he'll be home. He always is at this time on a Monday. He has three hours

between classes at PIFA. Lucky for me, I have no classes today. I get some time to regroup. Maybe Ethan will ditch his last class, and

stay home furiously playing his violin. That's probably what will happen.

I find myself in front of his door, and unable to make any moves to unlock it. Part of me wants to knock, because I feel I don't have the

right to just walk in breezily and say: "We need to talk." I hate hearing those words just as much as the next person. I don't want to

have to say them to him. But if I knocked, he'd know something was up, and he'd be demanding answers before I even said a word. I

have to use the key.

I take a deep breath and unlock the door. As soon as I open it, Wolfram comes dashing towards me meowing. I close the door, and

crouch down to pet him.

"Hey," Ethan calls out to me from the bed. He's sitting there with a pencil, and blank music sheets.

I give the cat a few more pats, and rise to my feet.

"Hey," I say, with as much of a smile as I can muster.

"What's going on?" He can tell something's wrong, of course. I'm terrible at hiding my feelings.

"I just came by to talk to you." I almost grimace as I say the words, but I try to keep it as nonchalant as possible.

He lowers his gaze to the floor. "What about?"

I swallow hard, not wanting to say it. "Us."

"Ah," he says, looking around the room. "We finally get to have this conversation."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's been a long time coming, hasn't it? How often do we even see each other anymore? It's not a big surprise."

"I guess not." I pause, not knowing what to say. How much to reveal.

"How's Brian?" he asks before I can gather my thoughts.

Fuck me.

"This isn't about Brian."

"Sure it is, Justin. You never lied to me about him. I'm just wondering… how much of the time that you haven't been spending with

me, have you been spending with him?"

"Ethan, please…"

"Please, what? I know that you're doing this for him. I know you are. Don't start lying to me now."

"I'm not lying to you. I'm not doing this for Brian. I'm doing this for me, and for you. This isn't working out, and not because I've been

spending time with Brian. We never see each other anymore, because neither of us makes the effort. We spend all our time with our

art, and not with each other."

"Yeah, maybe. You're still holding out, though. This is just as much about Brian, as it is the two of us. It always has been. He's always

been there. Even before you guys got nice and cozy again. You love him. He loves you. What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?

I can't change it. I can't make you love me. And you're right. We haven't been making an effort. We haven't, because we know it's not

worth it. It won't work."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Not really. Kind of. I knew all along that you'd go back to him eventually. I could tell. You brightened up so much when he came

back into your life. I knew it was only a matter of time. But, I've been busy. And, I guess, avoiding confrontation."

I snicker. "Yeah. Me too."

"So, you two are working it out?"

"We don't have to talk about that."

"I'm asking you," he looks into my eyes, and puts out his hand. I take it, and sit down next to him on the bed.

"I think it's gonna work this time. Just know that I never cheated on you. I promise that I didn't. I haven't."

"Well, thanks. I appreciate it. Especially after being your other man, and all. Maybe you learned your lesson on that score."

I smile sadly, "Yeah. I think I did."

He gives me a meaningful look that makes me feel like such an asshole.

"I don't regret the time I spent with you," I tell him. "I hope you don't either."

"I don't," he answers me softly.

"Do we have to disappear from one another's lives now, or can we stay friends?"

He exhales slowly, and audibly. "Maybe in time. But I can't see you right now. It'd

be too hard for me."

"Me too."

I join him in staring at the floor. We stay like that, in silence, holding hands for some time. I don't know how long. Finally, he reaches

over and kisses me softly one last time.

We stare at each other a bit longer, before I rise up from the bed. He lets go of my hand, and I walk away.

I turn to look at him after I've opened the door. "Bye, Ethan."

"Bye, Justin."

And that's that.

I exit the building in a haze, not too certain of the events I've set into motion. I don't know whether to cry, or jump for joy. I just am.

And now, it's barely noon, and I have no idea where to go. Brian is at work. Emmett is too. I could go to Lindsay's, but I don't really

want to. Maybe I should be on my own for a while.

I climb into the car quickly, and just drive. Not thinking too much about where I'm headed. But I'm headed straight for Liberty

Avenue. I feel my stomach rumbling, and decide maybe it won't be so bad to stop by the diner and get a few well-meaning comments

from Deb. She's easy to handle on her own. I doubt anyone else will be there at this hour.

I park across the street, and head inside. Immediately, I see Brian. In a booth, alone. What the fuck is he doing here? His back is to me,

so he doesn't notice my approach.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I say, sliding in across from him.

He looks slightly startled, but more amused at my sudden arrival.

"I'm meeting Mikey for lunch. He's been nagging me. I hardly see him anymore."

"Oh."

"Why? Hoping not to run into me?" he says with a slight smirk.

"No. I don't care."

"Oh, so NOW you don't care. I proclaim myself a lady in waiting, and you lose interest. How ironic."

I laugh at that, and he smiles as well.

"Stop making me laugh."

"Why, do you wanna cry?"

"Kind of."

"What for?"

"No reason."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"You did it," he states, with a hint of hope in his voice.

I just stare into his eyes, not wanting to speak.

His smile widens, and the glint in his eyes looks remarkably close to happiness.

"You did it," he says again, more emphatically.

"Did what?"

We both look up to find Michael standing at the edge of the table, goofy smile in place.

I look back at Brian, at the same time he looks back at me.

"Left his boyfriend to be with me.">

Time seems to halt momentarily. I know this was the plan and all, but it hits me that I did do it. I came back to Brian. I came back,

because he wanted me back. He came back to me, first. And he looks so happy right now. Self-contained of course, but happy none-

the- less. The smile creeps out on my face before I know what's happening. I'm sure that I'm beaming like nobody's business.

Paying no attention to anything else in the world, I find myself on my feet, next to the table, standing in front of Brian. I don't heed his

pushing Mikey out of the way, and how he got in front of me so suddenly doesn't have time to register. My lips find his, as I wrap my

arms around him, and he does the same. The most hungry, desperate, soul-searching kissing we've ever done. I want to devour him,

and I want him to devour me at the same time. I want to drown in this moment. I feel his tongue, and his lips like fire burning me

alive. And I'd be happy to die this way. This would be the way to go. I feel his hands travel up my sides, to my neck, and I pull my

arms from around his waist to place my hands on his face. Time and space are forgotten. Just for this moment, as we explore one

another with our mouths, and feel the tingling brought on by our deep connection.

Finally, I sense it coming to an end. I guess we can't just stand here making out all day. Slowly, we pull back, and then peck each other

a few more times for good measure. When we pull back to look at each other, I am greeted with such a magnificent smile that I can't

help but feel giddy, and proud that I put that there. He's smiling like that because of me. And I do my best to match his smile.

"I told you that you wouldn't be waiting long."

"I guess you meant it."

"Just as much as you meant it.">

"I did. All of it. I'm here aren't I?"

"Yeah."

He pulls me back to him for one more kiss, and then the world comes crashing back in bright-as-fuck Technicolor.

I glance around at the other patrons and staff, and just about every single pair of

eyes are trained on us, including Deb's, and Mikey's.

I look back at Brian, and his eyes silently say to me: "Fuck `em."

I let out a big sigh, and proclaim, "I'm fucking starving."

We sit back down in the booth, but this time I slide in next to Brian. I keep an arm behind his back, and he keeps one of his draped

over my shoulders.

Mikey finally gets with it, and slides in opposite us. He doesn't say a word, though, which is slightly odd.

"What's up, Mikey?" Brian asks.

"You tell me, you prick."

I try to stop my chuckle from escaping, to no avail. He shoots me one of his `Death Stares', and I have to fight off another chuckle.

"How exactly am I a prick? I've been doing nothing but good deeds lately."

"Yeah, for who?"

"Mostly myself."

"As usual," Mikey grumbles, and starts casting his eyes around uncomfortably.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I blurt out. Not the best thing to do, I know. Brian is way better at handling Michael than I'd ever

want to be.

"I'm so not talking to you, you little twat."

"Mikey, would you shut the fuck up? It really is NONE of YOUR business if Justin and I have worked things out. It's NO ONE'S

business but OURS. Stop acting like a bratty school-girl, or go the fuck away."

Uh oh.>

"You're telling ME to go away? Brian, we had plans! We were supposed to get together, just the two of us. I never see you anymore,

and now I know the REAL reason why! Do you have to fuckin' lie all the time?"

"Jesus Christ! I didn't lie to you! I don't have to tell you every fucking detail about how I spend my time. And frankly, I really don't

want to be having this conversation right now. Did you not just witness a fucking reunion? Do you have to step in and fucking ruin it

with YOUR petty arguments?"

"Fine. Whatever. Don't have a conversation with me. Fuck you!"

You would expect him to get up and storm off, but for some reason he just sits there pouting. I have no idea why. But for some reason,

I KNEW he'd get like this when he found out. Unlucky for us that it couldn't wait, but, oh well. The thing is, Mikey and I actually get

along. But as always, he's an asshole to me when it comes to Brian. He's a jealous asshole.

I guess Brian's just going to ignore him. He focuses back on me.

"What are you doing for the rest of the day?"

"Uh, I just have to pick up my mom at 5:30. I have her car."

"Right." He pulls out his cell phone, and punches a number on speed-dial.

"It's me. I'm not coming back in today. Reschedule my 3 o'clock for tomorrow afternoon. I'll be in late tomorrow." He says this, while

looking directly at me. I lick my lips in anticipation. "Yeah. Thanks." He hangs up.

"You still hungry?" He asks me with a mischievous grin.

I almost can't think straight anymore.

"Not really." I am, but I don't fucking care.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

Don't have to tell me twice. I glance at Michael, and feel kinda bad. I mean, I did kind of intrude on their time together. I turn back to

Brian, and give him a look. He sighs, and looks at Michael.

"Rain check, Mikey?"

"Whatever, Brian."

Brian gives me a look, and I shrug.

"Bye, Michael. I'll stop off tomorrow to give you some more of the finished drawings.

"Fine."

We exit the booth, and the diner.

11. Heartless Romantic

I didn’t think I’d ever been more nervous in my life, than I was driving back to the loft with Justin. I’d told him to leave his mom’s car

at the diner and we’d deal with it later. We had more pressing matters to tend to first. I really don’t know how I’d managed to

concentrate on the road, and observe the speed limit. All I could think of was the ominous phrase: “This is it.”

I’ve never been nervous about sex before. Even when I was 14, sucking off the coach in the gym shower, I was too overcome with

happiness that I was finally getting some to be nervous. Even after the bashing, when Justin and I were finally together again, I was

calm and focused on being as gentle as I could. He was in such a fragile state that gentle seemed like the only way. I didn’t want to

break him. I was a little scared, I admit, but not nervous. This is the first time I’ve ever been nervous about sleeping with someone.

As we stand in the elevator, I ponder the absurdity of the distance between Justin and me right now. I’m not touching him in the

slightest, just standing here staring straight ahead, watching the floors go by, waiting to reach the top. Normally, we’d be all over each

other right now, but he must be nervous too, because he’s standing as far away from me as he possibly can within this confined space.

How the fuck did this happen? We were all over each other at the diner! But once we stepped outside, something changed. More like,

realization dawned. We are about to take the next step, and there is no going back after this. For fuck’s sake, if I were still myself, I

wouldn’t give a second thought to fucking Justin right now. I wouldn’t be thinking of any consequences, or feelings, or anything at all,

aside from the act itself. I’d probably have my hand down his pants, smothering him with kisses, backing him as far into the corner of

the elevator as I could. Anticipating the familiar heat of his tight little hole.

The reality is that I’m too conflicted to even look at him. I don’t think I could even pull his hair right now, let alone stick my cock up

his ass. Why is that exactly? I can only pinpoint half of the answer right now, and the answer is another question: Is this the right thing

to do? Fucking consciences! Since when do I care what’s RIGHT? I hate myself more at this time in my life, than I ever have before. I

hate myself actually THINKING and making CHOICES. I just wanna go back to DOING! It’s so much less of a fucking hassle.

“Brian?”

“Huh?”

I blink my eyes a few times, and shake my head. Once I focus my attention back on reality, I see Justin standing outside the elevator

looking at me with a baffled expression, and I can practically hear his thoughts: “What the fuck is his deal?” I know how you feel, kid.

I fucking know.

“We’re here,” he announces instead, unnecessarily, I might add.

“Right.” I bypass the witty retort, and step outside the elevator.

At the door, I actually fumble with my keys. I’ve never fumbled with my keys before, unless I was otherwise occupied at the time.

Namely, trying to juggle both sex and getting through the door.

I finally get the key in lock and hear the loud grinding of the big metal door. Sometimes I fucking hate this door.

I walk into the loft, pausing only to place my briefcase on the kitchen counter, and continue until I’m standing in the middle of the

large space. I stop there, because I can’t bring myself to casually stroll into the bedroom.

I listen to the grind of the door closing, and feel Justin approaching my back. I wait, expecting to feel at the very least his hand on my

shoulder, or maybe his full body pressing against me as he wraps his arms around my chest. But the feeling never comes. He stops just

short of reaching me. He’s thinking too much, just as I am.

The situation suddenly strikes me as funny, and I accidentally let a loud cackle escape my throat. I hang my head and wipe away the

sweat that may or may not be gathering on my brow. I pause a second, and let out a sharp, deliberately loud breath.

“It’s okay,” Justin says softly to my back. I’m not sure who he’s trying to reassure, but his words put me slightly at ease.

“This is ridiculous,” I say, still uncertain of whether I should turn around.

And that’s when he touches me. Just one touch of his hand between my shoulder blades. Then he lets his hand trail down to my lower

back, and as he does this, the heat takes over. I turn around abruptly to face him, instantly forgetting my initial reservations as my lips

crash into his. I feel his hands roam all over me, pulling me impossibly closer to him, as I do the same. My hands travel down to his

ass, and I squeeze the full mounds roughly and moan. God, I missed his ass.

“Brian,” he gasps breathily, snaking his hands down to my ass, forcing our throbbing hard-ons to rub against each other in a

maddening way.

“Fuck!” I manage to say, with my mouth still around his soft tongue.

He slowly begins to walk forward, and I manage to fall in sync with him, walking backwards as he guides me towards the bedroom.

Still, we remain attached. Not just at our mouths, or our tongues, or our cocks, but everywhere. Every fucking where… Physically,

mentally, even fucking emotionally. All we’ve done is kiss, and I feel so connected to him. Perhaps more so than I ever have before.

To him, or to anyone.

The mere thought of sliding into his perfect hole makes me lose it. My mind is so fucking eager to take him that my body starts to

quiver. I know he’s on the same page. The trembling of my body flows into his, becoming one vast sea of waves. I don’t know how

we’re going to make it to the bed. I don’t even know how we’re going to make it to the sex.

I sense the steps behind me, and carefully take a step up onto the stair, never breaking the kiss, never allowing any space to come

between us.

We make it up the steps and once we reach the foot of the bed, Justin moves us so that my back is to the mattress, then leans forward

putting all of his weight on me, so that we fall onto the bed. He dislodges his arms from under my back, and starts caressing my face,

and threading his fingers though my hair, while swirling his tongue around my lips, and over my teeth. My hands travel under his

shirt, smoothing over the silky skin of his back.

I open my eyes, squeezed tightly shut all this time, to find his clear blue orbs staring into mine. They look so intense and full of love,

glazed over with passion, want, and need. I find myself hoping that he finds the same emotions reflected in mine. I send him those

silent communications, and I know they’ve been received, when he emits a low moan and shuts his eyes.

I continue to study his face as my hands travel down his back, slipping under the band of his pants, and underwear. I knead the flesh

there, and slip a finger down his crack.

With a sharp intake of breath, he breaks our endless kiss, sighing heavily as he looks down at my face. Finally, he begins to remove

my clothes. His first move is to rip open my burgundy Prada shirt. Buttons fly in all directions, but I couldn’t fucking care less. His

head dives down to kiss my chest, and lick at my nipples. His hands fumble with the knot of my tie as he continues his oral assault on

my pecs. Biting, nibbling, sucking.

I am so fucking gone.

He moves slowly down, trailing his tongue to my belly button, lightly skimming his hands down my sides. He looks up and sees me

watching him with total lust. He comes up to kiss me once more, and before I can take his head in my hands, he moves back down to

my torso, kissing and rubbing my belly as he unbuckles my belt.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh,” I can’t suppress a moan at the realization that my dick will soon be free of its confines, imagining his mouth

doing its little routine down there.

Once my trousers are unbuttoned and unzipped, he pulls them down to my thighs, along with my underwear. I gasp as the cool air of

the loft greets my steel-like cock. Before I can think twice, Justin’s mouth devours me whole, deep-throating my dick in one swift

motion.

“FUCK!” I don’t know how I’m going to last. I’ve never felt this degree of desire in my life. I want him so fucking badly it burns. His

mouth travels back up the shaft, and he begins swirling his tongue around the head.

“Uuuhhhhh,” I grunt. “Justin!” I open my eyes to look down at him, and see him greet my look with half-lidded eyes, my pulsating

cock halfway in his mouth. It’s too much, and he knows I’m about to cum. Hard. He glides all the way back down the shaft and I let

go, exploding inside his mouth. And my boy swallows every last drop of jizz, even with the head of my dick constricting the muscles

in the back of his throat.

I lie there panting, trying to gather my strength again, but as soon as his face is back in front of mine I grab his sides and roll us over

so that I’m on top of him. I kiss him hard and deep, tasting the saltiness of my own cum on his tongue. I pull away and reach down to

unzip my boots, tossing them to the floor, along with my socks. I also discard the pants and underwear that were already half off. Then

I shed the jacket, shirt, and tie that were hanging open on my body.

Now I’m fully naked, while Justin is fully clothed. This is something I can definitely play up. Not that I want to torture him, but he

hasn’t cum yet, and I want to make it as good for him as he made it for me.

I pull myself up to a kneeling position, my legs on either side of his hips, hovering directly above his cock, hidden under those pesky

clothes of his. I remain just like that for a moment, studying his face.

“Brian,” he huffs out. “Touch me.”

A smile creeps onto my face as I sit back, settling onto his thighs, just like I did the first time I ever touched him.

“Like the first time,” I repeat to him.

He smiles, and for a second it looks as if he might tear up, but I can’t let that happen. It’s no time to start getting soft. Fuck that.

I roughly pull up his shirt, licking a trail up the center of his upper body, from the edge of his khakis to the hollow of his neck. I put

my hands under his arms, pull him up, and yank the shirt over his head. His mouth reaches for mine, but before it reaches its mark, I

push him back against the bed.

I slide a hand down his torso to his dick, and begin rubbing it through the fabric. Leaning down to his right ear, I whisper, “You want

me to lick your cock?”

“Ah… yes,” he says softly, and breathily.

I lick along the outer rim of his ear, and suck on the lobe, tugging on it gently with my teeth. “Like that?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I trail my tongue along his jaw line, and down the right side of his neck, where I suck hard, eliciting another sharp cry from him.

“Briaaaan. Fucking do it already!” he yells.

I bring my face back to his, and kiss him one more time before sitting back up. I reach down to unzip his pants, and unzip them

swiftly, yanking them down along with his Calvin Klein underwear, I turn my body around to remove his shoes, strategically placing

my legs on either side of him, once more, and I get down on all fours, giving him a very nice view of my ass, not to mention my cock

and balls. I sink down onto my forearms so that I can unlace his shoes, knowing that the view just got better.

The knowledge that he is staring directly at my exposed hole makes me harden again. His scrutiny is made obvious by the sudden

acceleration of his already loud breathing, and then he starts pleading with me.

“Oh my… fuck… Brian…” I smile as I pull off his shoes, and the remainder of his clothes.

“You are so fucking beautiful”, he tells me.

I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “So are you, Sunshine.”

I begin slowly backing up, and his panting gets louder by the nanosecond. I come to a halt when my face finds his dick, and I finally

begin to relieve his tension.

As I work on his cock, Justin does what I knew he’d want to do the minute he saw my asshole. He licks it. Just one flick of his tongue

to the wrinkled flesh of my crack, and he cums in my mouth, screaming my name.

I quickly shift positions, turning back around to face him.

“I want to fuck you,” I say around his lips. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Like the first time?” I ask him.

I don’t know why this keeps reminding me of that, but it’s been so damn long since we’ve done this, that I guess it just feels like

another first for us. I feel completely different about him now than I did then, and I know he does too, but for some reason the

haunting similarity lingers in my mind.

“Yes, Brian,” he answers. “But better than the first time.”

“Put your legs on my shoulders,” I tell him with a small smile.

His smile is as bright as the sun, as per usual, and he does as I told him.

He doesn’t say a word, but I continue the little reenactment. “We’re about to have a demonstration of safe sex.” I reach for a condom

and tell him to put it on me.

He rolls it on slowly and I reach for the lube. I squirt some inside of him, and he decides to play along.

“It’s cold,” he says with a smirk.

“It’ll DEFINITELY heat up.”

Then it’s time for the infamous little speech I gave him, before I popped his cherry two years ago. I don’t know how or why I

remember it, but I suppose the words stuck with me as much as they must have stuck with him.

Somehow, even being the prick I was then, I really meant what I said. Even if I didn’t love him that first night, I felt SOMETHING for

him. Maybe it was because of his appallingly youthful innocence, and the trust he gave to me instantly and without hesitation. Maybe

it was his staggering courage, and the way he was scared shitless, but never backed down.

I never felt shit for anyone I ever fucked. Only lust, and the desire to fuck. To get MY needs met. With him, I guess I wanted to give

him the best fucking introduction to sex that anyone could ever hope for. I wanted him to feel everything that night. I also wanted to

protect him. I wanted to be his first, because no one else would take the time to give him something special. No one would be patient

and not laugh in his face at the dumb, naïve remarks spilling from his lips. I couldn’t let that happen. I fell for the innocent charm that

he didn’t know he had.

“Just relax. I want you to always remember this, so that no matter where you are, you’ll know this is how I feel about you.”

I thrust into him in one stroke, sucking his tongue into my mouth, kissing him so fucking deeply; trying to swallow him whole,

throwing everything I can into it. Into him. Giving him what he wants. What I’m capable of. There’s no turning back from this. Ever.

I slowly begin moving in and out of him, speeding up, and slowing down again. Showering his face and neck with kisses. He contracts

his muscles, squeezing my dick, every dozen strokes or so.

“Brian,” he keeps saying over and over in my ear. “Brian… Brian… Brian…”

And after a while I realize that I’m repeating one word over and over again as well.

“Justin… Justin… Justin…”

I give myself over completely to The Fire. That’s the name I’ve given to this connection of ours. To this union. Not very original, I

suppose, but what the fuck else can I be expected to come up with under these circumstances? The Fire is good enough, cuz that’s

exactly what it feels like when we’re together. Like an all-consuming fire. A fire that destroys and creates every single time it is

kindled. There is no escaping this raging fire.

We cum at just about the exact same time, our screams of pleasure mixing together, culminating in short huffs of air as our bodies,

slick with sweat, and splattered with cum, stick together as we fall asleep.

My last conscious thought is ‘stay’. Just ‘stay’. I want Justin to stay, I want this moment to stay, I want these feelings to stay, I want

this truth to stay, this me to stay.

Just stay.

12. Back to the Start

BRIAN

As I slip out of a deep midday sleep, I glance around, disoriented, and feel the weight and warmth of a body firmly attached to my

side. I notice the pale, porcelain skin and the golden hair. Justin. A thousand feelings wash over me at once: relief/anxiety, longing/

contentment, fear/comfort, love/awe. A plethora of polar thoughts rolled up neatly in a fleeting moment of adjustment. I close my eyes

again to clear my ruminations, and reopen them to stare at the ceiling, trying to just be in the moment, and not over-think.

It works for about half a second, until my focus is shifted to Justin’s breathing. The feel of his chest rising and falling against my side,

along with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The soft wheezing sound he makes sometimes when he’s exhausted. The warm

alternating with the cool, teasing me as he inhales and exhales against my skin.

I’ve missed this feeling… this reality. I’ve missed Justin in my bed so much. I honestly don’t know how I’ve survived without him.

It’s great having him in my life in any capacity, but it was fucking torturous keeping my hands off of him. At times I wanted to play

the evil seducing ex. I knew he would never put up a fight. If I had really wanted to fuck him before today, I would have. But, it

wouldn’t have been right. The circumstances weren’t right. We would’ve ended up screwing ourselves over big time. This time we’re

doing it the right way. I’m doing the things that I should do. Not just for Justin’s sake, but for mine.

I softly trace my fingers over his back, relishing this simple pleasure. Having him asleep next to me. Watching him. Touching him. No

one would ever believe how simple it really is to please me. Because, really, it is. The only reason no one knows it is because I don’t

let them. I act out before they can really see my true feelings. And usually I’m just plain satisfied. Like I am at this moment. This is

very satisfying.

Justin begins to stir, and his eyes flutter open as he lifts his head to look at me. His expression goes from confusion to understanding,

and finally he shines that brilliant smile my way.

“Hey,” he says, voice thick from sleep.

“Hey,” I reply, my voice sounding similar.

He doesn’t stop smiling, and it’s fucking infectious.

“You’re grinning like a fool,” he says, as if he knows what I’m thinking.

“You’re smiling like an idiot.”

“Well I guess we’re a couple of dumb fucks.”

I laugh. “I guess so.”

He puts his head back down on my chest, and starts caressing my torso. He sighs contentedly, and doesn’t say another word. He

doesn’t have to, because I know exactly what he’s thinking. The same things I’ve been thinking since I opened my eyes.

“Oh shit!” he says, bolting upright, and looking over at the clock. “It’s only 4. Good. I got scared for a minute,” he explains, looking

back at me.

“Right. Picking up Mommy from work. I forgot.”

He lowers himself back down, placing his body full on top of mine, kissing me gently. Without saying a word, he drops his head onto

my shoulder, burying his face in the crook of my neck. The feel of his hot breath on my neck is tantalizing, and I begin rubbing my

hands over his back, soothing his skin.

Surprisingly, I don't want to fuck him right now. Well, I kind of do, but I'd rather just lie here and maybe... talk. I don't know why, but

I figure we've got all night to fuck, might as well use this time for something productive. I'm also kind of surprised that Justin is so

self-restrained. He's not trying to tear into me like a wild animal. He's not even hard. Then again, neither am I. Shit... put a bullet in

my head NOW! Might as well be fuckin' dead! But this isn't going to become a habit or anything. One time only. I just want Justin to

feel like things are different. That I'm not just fucking him and sending him on his way. I want him to understand that this is really

what I want.

"I like waking up with you," I admit softly.

He pauses for a minute, then raises his head to look me in the eyes.

"You do realize that you just said that out loud."

The comment could be construed as sarcastic, but he's totally serious.

"Yeah. My mouth only does what I tell it to do," I smirk.

He smiles at me again, and it makes me feel so fucking good. I'm making him happy. And that is the main goal for now. To make him

happy, and in turn make myself happy.

"If you keep this up, you'll never get rid of me."

"Who says I want to?"

He's truly beaming now. Ear to ear pearly whites.

"Stop it!" he says, suddenly bashful.

"You're so cute when you blush," I say in a mocking tone, pinching his lily-white ass.

"Enough with the body-snatched version of Brian. I can only take happiness in small doses."

"Why?"

"I just... don't want to use it all up at once."

There it is. The fear that's crept into both of us. The fear that after a short while of REAL solid happiness between us, I'm going to

fuck it all up again with my evil ways. Which is of course a logical assumption. I've never given him any reason to believe otherwise,

so I can't begrudge him his hesitance. I, myself, am still hesitant. I'm treading so softly. Barely making a sound. I'm trying the best I

can not to fuck it up. He knows that. He's just afraid. And I'm fucking terrified, so I guess we're even. No matter the differing reasons

for said terror, the point is, we're both on the same page. Finally.

"We won't use it up all at once," I tell him. "We'll use some now and the rest will come in convenient doses. There'll be plenty of

unhappiness and drama, but we'll get through it. Don't think about all that right now. We just got back together. Let's postpone the

heaviness for a while."

He reaches his head up to kiss me, and looks straight into the very core of my being, silently saying what he wants me to hear. What

he wants to hear from me. In a way, I'm grateful that he doesn't just come out and say that he loves me, because I wouldn't want him to

be disappointed if I didn't say it back. He understands that, so he keeps it to himself. He lets me know in other ways, just as I let him

know.

I raise my head up to meet his lips and kiss him hungrily. I run my tongue against the silky underside of his as he threads his fingers

through my hair, tugging it playfully. His lips make their way around my tongue, sucking on it as I squeeze his plump ass. Once he

releases it, I pull his bottom lip into my mouth, trapping and nibbling his tender flesh with my teeth while pressing his body hard

against mine.

He pulls back, breathing heavily, and looks over at the clock again.

"Fuck, Brian. We need to go pick up the car, so I can get my mom," he says, attempting to roll off of me, but I hold him tight against

me.

"Wait," I say, kissing him again. This time just a few pecks, nice and tender.

He smiles again. “You’re killing me,” he utters playfully.

“You killed me first,” I tell him, referring to the words he said to me lifetimes ago when I was conflicted about being a parent to Gus.

He stares at me incredulously for a few more seconds, and I finally allow him to roll off of me.

The smile stays on his face the entire time he dresses. I lay there watching him until he shouts at me to move my ass, and I get up to

pull on my jeans and wife-beater. He tells me that he’s not amused at my choice in wardrobe. That I look too hot. I tell him that it’s

not my problem. He gives me the finger and storms off towards the door.

I love getting him worked up.

********************

JUSTIN

Anyone else wouldn’t recognize Brian right now. He just seems so… content. His mood is so light and easy-going. He never says the

wrong thing, and he actually LIKES talking to me. Even after we had sex again for the first time in centuries.

He’s happy. I’m happy. We’re fucking happy! Part of me is thinking that it hasn’t even been a full day yet, but I still can’t help feeling

like this is going to work. Because we both really want it to. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.

Brian pulls up in front of the diner, and I lean over to kiss him goodbye.

“I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Hurry the fuck up, would you?”

“You think I wanna spend anymore time with my mom than I have to? Especially with you patiently waiting to fuck me when I get

back.”

“Patient? Is that a fucking joke?” He puts on his feigned annoyance face.

I smile and pinch his cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”

He slaps my hand away. “Fuck off!” But he’s smiling again.

I lean in to kiss him one more time, and climb out of the jeep. I can feel him watching me as I make my way to my mom’s Camry.

After I’m situated inside, he screeches past me in trademark Kinney fashion, and I laugh to myself. At least SOME things never

change.

I drive over to my mom’s office, and call her from my cell to let her know I’m waiting. She comes out and gets in the passenger’s seat.

“Hi Sweetie,” she says, kissing my cheek.

“Hey Mom. How was work?”

“Exhausting. I showed way too many houses today. I need a bubble bath.”

I smile at her, but say nothing.

“So, what have you been doing with your day off?”

Oh, the usual. Breaking up with Ethan. Getting back with Brian. Fucking Brian for a few hours in the middle of the day. Same old.

“Just hangin’ out,” I say instead.

“By yourself?”

Subtle, Mom. Real fucking slick.

“Not exactly,” I tell her.

“Uh huh. And what does that mean?”

“God, Mom, it just means-“ I don’t want to be having this conversation right now. I really don’t. But it’s better to get it over with now.

Maybe she’ll choose to keep her mouth shut for once.

“You were with Brian.”

“Yes, I was with Brian.”

“Doesn’t he have work?”

“He took the afternoon off.”

“Mmm hmm. And why is that?”

“Because I broke up with Ethan.”

“And then you got back with Brian.”

“Mom, you make it sound all sordid. I didn’t plan it to work out that way, it just did. I didn’t go looking for Brian. I was trying to

avoid seeing him. But he was at the diner, and I couldn’t help myself.”

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, and I roll my eyes.

“I couldn’t! I tried!” I did try… kind of... a little bit… not really.

“So what’s going to happen now?” she asks all business-like.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, now that you and Brian are a couple again, what’s going to happen?”

“Um, we’re going to give it a shot. Try to work it out. Be happy.”

“You think he’s really going to make you happy this time?”

“Yes, Mom. I do. It’s not like everything was always miserable the last time around. We were happy. Occasionally. But this time,

we’re both making more of an effort.”

“Are you moving back into the loft?”

I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet. I doubt Brian has either. I don’t know if he wants me there full-time. And truthfully, I don’t

know if I’m ready to be back there full-time.

“We haven’t talked about it.”

She stays quiet after that. I turn up the volume on the radio to drown out the uncomfortably loud silence.

Once we’re back home, I head upstairs to take a shower and put on some clean clothes. My discarded tee had cum all on the inside. I

hope my mom couldn’t smell it in the car.

I grab my backpack, remove the textbooks, and throw in another change of clothes and my sketchbook. I dash down the stairs and

approach my mom in the kitchen.

“Are you going somewhere?” she asks me, looking up from the mail she’s sorting.

“Yeah. I’m spending the night at Brian’s.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think I could borrow the car again?”

“No, Justin. I need to pick up Molly in an hour or so, and I need for us to be on time in the morning. Brian can pick you up.”

Fuck. “Alright.”

I jog back up the stairs to give Brian a ring.

********************

BRIAN

As soon as I get back to the loft, I know what I have to do. I go to my bedside table, open the drawer, and remove my notebook. The

sketchbook that Justin gave me.

I throw myself down on the bed and take a moment to gather my thoughts. As soon as my pen hits the paper, I’m lost in the words.

Letting them all flow out onto the page. I become so absorbed that I almost don’t hear the phone ringing. Since I don’t have the desire

to talk to anyone right now, I let the machine pick up.

“Hey, Brian. It’s me.” Mikey. “I was just wondering if you were coming to Woody’s tonight. Give me a call.”

Fuck that. I’ve got other plans for tonight. I finish up the writing and look over at the clock. Justin’s been gone over an hour. Maybe I

should just go pick him up. His Mom’s probably giving him shit.

I grab my keys and head out. Shit, Justin is going to be so surprised. While I was writing, I came to a conclusion about how Justin and

I should spend our evening. It should earn me points up the ass. Literally.

I drive over to Justin’s impatiently, mumbling some of the words to the CD in the player. One that I picked up recently to replace the

vinyl copy I had years ago: The Velvet Underground & Nico. I wonder what the fuck happened to my vinyl?

The phone rings, interrupting “Heroin”. I look at the call display first.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Bri.”

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“At my house. Mom won’t let me take the car.”

“I figured. I’m already on my way, and this time I don’t really feel like coming to the door. I’m sure Jennifer hates me even more

today.”

“I’ll wait outside.”

“Okay. Later.”

“Later.”

I pull up in front of the house about 10 minutes later to find Justin sitting on the steps like a good boy. He comes up to the car and

jumps in enthusiastically.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

I pull away from the curb, and he leans over to lick my neck.

“Hey! No teasing.”

“What are you listening to?”

“The Velvet Underground.”

“Oh, cool. Lou Reed, right?”

I look over at him, surprised. “How do you know that?”

“I go to art school, Brian. There are plenty of people there that listen to this kind of music. Anything Warhol was ever involved with is

like sacred to some of those freaks.”

“You don’t like Warhol?”

“You know I do.”

“And you like the Velvets.”

“Yeah. They’re very original.”

I’m impressed. The kid has managed to become less and less clueless over the last couple of years. He’s no longer the wide-eyed

innocent. I’m kind of glad. It was cute in the beginning, but majorly annoying as time went by.

“Well, Lou Reed is one of my personal heroes.”

“Really?” he asks in a screechy voice.

“Yep.”

“Hmm.”

He’s quiet and pensive after that. Until we zoom past the major street that would take us to Tremont.

“Bri, you missed the turn.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out,” I tell him matter-of-factly.

“Out where?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

“Not on Liberty?”

“Nope.”

“So, we’re going out.”

“Yes.”

“Like a date?” he says in the screechy voice again.

“If that’s what you wanna call it.”

“Really?” His voice goes an octave higher than a screech.

“Yes, really. Now, quiet.”

We pull up at a red light, and he launches himself at me, smothering my face with kisses.

“Calm down,” I tell him, while he’s busy attacking my right temple.

“You amaze me,” he says, looking into my eyes.

I kiss him deeply in response and pull away just before the light turns green.

For the remainder of the ride, Justin is a ball of contained energy. The only reason he’s not bouncing around Emmett-style is because I

hate that shit. Even though he is pretty cute when he’s acting childish. The little cocksucker is always cute. Even when he’s so angry I

think he could deck me, he’s adorable. Fuckin’ twink.

But as he’s chattering away about how proud he is of me, and how appreciative he is that I’m trying, I don’t cut him off; I allow him

to enjoy it. With us, there’s always the possibility of a fuck up waiting right around the corner. I don’t want to keep making him

miserable with my pathetic put-downs and clever remarks to put him in his place. Right back under my thumb. I’m sure that it would

only result in the total destruction of what we are salvaging right now. A return to the old ways is tantamount to the obliteration of

what we have… the obliteration of us.

For now, I’ll let him bask in the small victories. I’m sure they are my own as well. And maybe I’m basking in them too.

**********************

JUSTIN

I feel like I’m radiating joy, and I can’t fucking help it. This Brian is just so amazing to be with. It’s not really like I’m freaked out by

his improved attitude. I’m just so damn happy that he’s sharing all of this with me. And that the sex hasn’t ruined the dynamic, but

strengthened it.

He actually seems genuinely happy for a change. Which of course makes me fucking ecstatic. If he’s happy, I’m happy. Cuz when

he’s happy, he’s not being a dick. That is always a good thing. He even says sweet things to me. No ridiculously romantic overtures,

more like genuinely caring slip-ups. It’s so nice to be able to feel this way together. We may not be saying “I love you” back and forth

everyday, but so fucking what? It’s so damn obvious to me now. I can’t even remember why I left. Can’t remember why he let me

leave. Can’t remember why he left. Can’t remember how it got so fucked up, or why we never said a word to each other until it was

too late.

This is the opportunity we have to start over and do everything differently. A fresh start… starting with an actual date! A surprise date

masterminded by He-Who-Does-Not-Do-Boyfriends. HA! I didn’t even have to force him to do it. No plans whatsoever on my part.

He just surprised me and now we’re officially on our very first real date.

“Thank you, Brian,” I say honestly.

“What for?”

“For trying.”

“Justin, we’ve gone through this. I want to try. You don’t have to thank me for anything.”

“Well what the fuck am I supposed to do then?”

“Sit there, shut up, look fuckable, and wait until you see where we’re going.”

I blush a bit when he says that.

“Asshole.”

“Twat.”

I just laugh.

********************

BRIAN

We pull up to The Andy Warhol Museum, precisely in my intended fashion: Velvets blasting, and Justin completely clueless as to

what’s happening. I must congratulate myself for pulling it off so nicely. Just proves even further, my ability to throw together

fabulous events. Events like, who fuckin’ knew it, first dates! I may not end up ruining it after all.

“Brian?”

“Justin?”

“What are we doing here?”

“We’re going to observe some modern art.”

“It’s closed, Brian. Museums don’t stay open at all hours of the day.”

“No shit,” I respond sarcastically, turning off the engine, and getting out of the car. “Chop chop, Sunshine!”

He gives me the cutest look of disdain possible, and hops out of the jeep.

I make my way to meet him on the sidewalk, and take his hand in mine. He looks at me curiously, and smiles.

We walk up the steps to the front entrance.

“Wait here,” I instruct him.

“What are you gonna do, blow the security guard?” he teases with a bright smile plastered on his face.

“He should be so lucky,” I mumble, walking away.

I reach the first side door, and knock three times. Shortly thereafter, the door opens, and Peter appears to greet me with a smile.

“Brian!”

A little too enthusiastic for my tastes. “Peter!” I can be fake when the time calls for it.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“You know how it is. I keep myself busy.”

“I bet you do, honey!”

This is someone that Emmett could be best friends with. A flaming queen with enough snobbery to go around, but nice and reliable in

times of need. I just smile and nod.

“Well, where’s that hunk of yours, then?”

“He’s waiting in the front. Should I bring him around.”

“No, don’t worry. I’ll meet you in the front.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

“Anything for you, Gorgeous!”

I smile, and make my way back to Justin. He looks at me like I’m retarded, and acts really annoyed when he says, “Well?”

“What?” I like to keep him on his toes.

“How was he?”

“Fantastic!” I reply, smirk firmly in place.

While he does remain amused and happy, Justin’s mouth opens and he gasps lightly, as if I’d really disappeared to give someone head

just to entertain him on this date. To irk him even more, I give his cheek a squeeze, and egg him on, “You’re so cute when you’re

jealous!”

His mouth comes open again. “Fuck you!” he slaps my arm away.

Then some lights turn on inside, and we look over to find Peter making his way to the door from inside the museum. He unlocks one

of the glass doors, in three different places, before opening it.

“Come in,” he says, smiling widely when he gets a good look at Justin.

I wrap my arm around Justin’s slim waist, and usher him through the doorway.

Justin tilts his head to look at me with an expression of unmasked wonder and surprise. While Peter is busy locking the door back up,

Justin is busy mouthing, “What the fuck?” to me. I just arch an eyebrow at him, and give him my best feigned innocence act.

“So, Brian,” Peter interrupts our staring contest, “who is this tasty young morsel?”

“This is Justin. Justin, meet Peter.”

“Hi,” he says bashfully, reaching out to shake Peter’s hand.

“Very nice to meet you. Any friend of Brian’s…”

I fight not to roll my eyes. Instead I toss out some information for him.

“Justin is an artist.”

“Oh, really!”

“He’s studying at PIFA.”

“Wonderful!” Peter exclaims. “If you’re a fan of Pop Art, then this place is heaven! The only thing is, I can’t turn on the bright lights,

so you’ll have to make do with the subdued low-key lighting.”

“Oh, that’s fine with me. Thank you so much for letting us come in after hours!”

“No worries, Justin. Brian has been a tremendous help to us in the past. I’m happy to return the favor. I’ll let you two wander off and

explore. The films will be screening in two hours, so be at the theater by nine, and I will see you boys later!”

“Thanks again, Peter.”

“Oh, stop it!” he waves it off, and retreats to the offices.

“Shall we?” I ask Justin, pushing him along.

He moves his legs hesitantly, never taking his wide eyes off of my face.

“Brian, how in the hell did you manage this? I heard it costs thousands to rent this place out!”

“Relax, Justin.” He worries about money way too much. It’s cute. “I did some ad work for Carnegie a few years back, particularly for

this museum. They let me have a few hours free of charge.”

“Damn, you’re cheap,” Justin quips.

That makes me laugh. Only now does he relax beside me. Still looking at me. Studying me closely. We stand in front of a gigantic

Andy self-portrait, and Justin moves to stand in front of me, putting his arms around my neck, pulling me against him. Never breaking

eye contact.

“Thank you so much, Brian. This is awesome.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“You’re a fucking alien, I know it now.”

“Maybe I am. Want me to give you an anal probe?”

He guffaws and without missing a beat, replies, “Definitely.”

********************

JUSTIN

Brian is the most kick-ass boyfriend in the world, all of the sudden. Tonight has been nothing short of amazing. He knows exactly how

to please me, and all night, that’s all he’s been doing.

We wandered through all seven floors of the Warhol, joking around, and being serious at appropriate moments. We had the best time!

Every once in a while we’d stop and make out. It was incredible being alone with him in this huge gallery! He even had Peter allow

us to view a couple of Warhol’s films in the theater. They were both from the mid-60’s. We watched one called “Couch” with Allen

Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, and a bunch of other beat poets, and another called “The Closet”, which Nico was in. They were very

interesting. There was also this great exhibit running, called “Americanisms: Shaping Art and Culture in the 50’s”. Plus, other artist’s

work which were also amazing. I really liked Basquiat’s stuff. Brian did too.

All in all, perfect. Before we left, Brian bought me two posters, proving that he wasn’t opting for a cheap date. He shelled out $120 for

the things, without tax. I ended up getting one of the Cow wallpaper, and one of Ingrid Bergman with a hat. They’re both awesome!

I’m so damn giddy, I can’t contain myself. And the best part is that I get to go home with Brian. I get to go to sleep beside him in his

bed, and I get to go to sleep feeling this way. Like there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he loves me. A lot. I wish I had a camera with

me tonight. I could’ve captured a side of Brian that rarely comes out. I guess I’ll just have to ingrain them into my memory, and draw

them out later.

“What are you smiling about?” Brian’s voice half-yells over the music blaring from the speakers of the jeep.

“Things,” I answer, pausing briefly to look over at him. “What are you smiling about?”

“You,” he says, without hesitation.

God, I love this man. It’s so ridiculously true at this moment. I couldn’t possibly love him any more than this. Just wait until I get my

hands on him when we finally get to the loft. I’m gonna fuck him so hard. I need to show him the extent of my feelings right now. I

need him to feel it throughout his entire body. I’m gonna pound his ass for all it’s worth, and then I’m gonna let him milk my ass all

night long. I’m gonna let him show me just how much he cares. How much he loves me.

We’re invincible tonight. Because our love is palpable. Because we’re not thinking about it. Because we’re allowing ourselves to just

be.

Even if it doesn’t last through tomorrow, at least we have tonight.

13. An Echo, A Stain

We wake up late, and fool around for a couple of hours. Okay, more than fool around… we suck each other off, he fucks me a couple

of times, and we take a long satisfying shower. Unfortunately, we can’t make a day of it, because Brian has to head into the office at

some point, and I have to go to school for a couple of hours before I go to the diner for a shift from 4 to 8. And I really have no desire

at all to do any of those things. I’m too damn happy. It should be illegal for me to feel this happy. I want to stay in bed all day with

him. I want this feeling to last for at least that long.

After last night, I feel like I own the world. I don’t care if I’m being slightly melodramatic, cuz it’s how I feel! Really! I mean Brian

fucking Kinney took me on a surprise date to a museum! A museum! I mean, really… it was the sweetest thing. And the sex was

amazing. I fucked him, he fucked me, and we ordered a banquet of food and sat around watching TV while we ate. It was like I always

imagined it could be. Nothing over-the-top, but nothing too barren either. It’s like before, Brian would give as little as he could and

fucking freak out when I thought it wasn’t enough. Now, he’s giving as much as he can, and learning that that’s all I really want. No

cause for anyone to flip out over anything. I’m not asking for anything he can’t give. I’m just asking for something. Anything. As long

as he’s trying. And as long as he’s not half-assing his way through it. And he really really isn’t.

For Brian, last night was going all out. The only other time he’s ever gone all out for me was when he came to my prom, and that

didn’t turn out as anyone could’ve expected. But that is definitely an issue I try not to think about. For now I’m content with

concentrating on the now. I don’t care if that’s good or bad. For me, it’s what I have to do. For a while there, I was dwelling on the

past so fucking much that I was barely living through the present. I don’t want that to happen again. It didn’t help anything.

As we exit the steamy bathroom, I flop down on the bed intent on watching Brian dress for work. It’s so goddamn hot. Everything the

man does is hot, but the picture of him dressing is only outshone by the picture of him undressing. He looks at me, and seeing the grin

on my face, I can imagine he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Don’t,” he says, pretending to be bashful. That’s one thing Brian could never be. He isn’t modest about anything, least of all his

nudity, or anything pertaining to his body.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Is there any other way for me to look at you?”

He snorts at that. “You’re right. Don’t look at me at all. Get dressed over there,” he says gesturing to the other side of the bed.

“Why?”

“Because it’s fucking distracting, that’s why. I’m trying to get to work, not get another hard on, so stop staring.”

I drop my head on the mattress, and feel the blood draining from my face. Those words remind me so much of Ethan. He always says

shit like that to me. He said it the first time I ever met him. That my staring was distracting him from his performance. I thought it was

so sweet at the time. It was sweet. It made me think about him for days afterwards. I even went back to see him because of those

words. Well, that, and his smile. I thought he had a killer smile. Dammit… I feel so bad for what I did to Ethan. I don’t regret leaving

him, or being with him in the first place. I told him that and I meant it. I just feel horrible that I sort of… used him for my own selfish

purposes. Knowing the entire time I was with him that I loved another man. That I would eventually go back to that other man if he’d

have me. Ethan was just my temporary distraction. But I still miss him. He deserves to be missed.

My head shoots up, when I feel the warm hand on my back, followed by the weight of Brian on my ass, as he straddles me. The coarse

cloth of his pants scratches my skin, and I’m instantly on alert. Wasn’t he trying NOT to have sex again before he left?

“What are you doing?” I ask without straining my head to look at him.

“Why’d you get so quiet?” he asks brushing a kiss against my right shoulder.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“It’s not important.”

“So it has nothing to do with me?”

“No,” I reply honestly.

“Okay.”

Without another word, he flips me over, and I come face-to-face with the picture of sex. Brian kneeling over me wearing dark gray

slacks, an unbuttoned black silk shirt hanging on his sleek form, hair half wet and sticking up in all directions, lips red and pouty, eyes

trained on mine, ready for anything. He smiles knowingly at the look I give him, and lets his hand travel down my bare chest, heading

directly for my towel.

“Fuck you,” I tell him, because really… he’s so damn infuriating. I love it.

“No, Sunshine… Fuck you,” he says, swooping his head down to capture my lips.

“Okay,” I say once he moves down towards my throbbing erection. “Go ahead and have your way with me, then.”

He chuckles just before he slides his tongue down my shaft, and words escape me as he grabs the base, and begins sucking on the

sensitive tip.

He’s so fucking talented at this shit. It’s one more thing that should be illegal… his handling of cocks. He’s the fucking master. No

one I’ve ever been with comes close to matching his skills in bed. And I’m sure if I went out and fucked half the world’s population I

wouldn’t find anyone who could please me the way he can. I feel sorry for all those suckers who only got it once and never again,

because they fucking know what they’re missing. I don’t have to anymore.

He doesn’t give me his full on blowout blowjob. He doesn’t want me to cum that way. I can tell, because he’s not touching my ass,

and he’s not giving too much attention to my balls, he’s waiting for me to beg him to fuck me, the asshole. Why do I always have to

beg? Why can’t he fucking beg for once?

He’s still in the playful mood he’s been in since we awoke, because normally he’d never stop before I ask him to, but he takes his

mouth off of my dick and trails kisses up my torso, up my neck, and growls into my ear amusedly…

“Want me to ravage your tight little hole?”

Instead of answering with words, I roughly take his head into my hands, and gnaw on his lips, sucking urgently as he pants into my

mouth. He’s not the only one who can coax that primal, lustful need out to play.

Taking advantage of his momentary loss of control, I roll us both over so that I’m now on top of him. I release his lips, and slide my

hands down his sides to his hips. The look on his face shows his reluctance to give up the power, yet also displays an eagerness for me

to have my way with him. Any time I’m able to take control like this, we both seem to get impossibly more turned on. Role reversal is

hot shit.

Before he can decide whether to protest or surrender, I undo his belt and his pants, shoving them down along with his underwear, just

far enough to liberate his aching cock. Bypassing a quick blowjob, I go directly for what I’m after… his cock in my ass. I reach over

quickly to grab a condom and lube, and when I turn back, his eyes are boring into mine so intently that I almost forget what I’m doing.

I look away quickly to stare at his beautiful dick, while I rip open the condom, and put it on him. I flip open the cap of the lube, and

squirt a generous amount onto my fingers. Then I decide to give him a show. I raise up on my knees, and look into his eyes as I stick a

finger into my hole, moving it in and out at a fast pace. Anxious to include him in the action, I grab his left hand and guide it back to

my ass, grabbing his index finger and shoving it into the confined space along side my own. His eyes squeeze shut, and his look of

ecstasy begins to take over.

Not able to continue any longer without being filled by him, I let our fingers slip out, and move back down to lather up his straining

cock. Then I move into place, and sit on it, hard and fast, until it’s as far up as it can go. I pause to adjust, and smile at the pleasure I

see on Brian’s face. I begin moving up and down, enjoying the rapid pace and its effect on my sweet spot. Brian lies motionless at

first, and then joins me, bucking up, and thrusting it into me as deep and hard as he can.

Fuck, I love it when it’s rough like this. It undoes everything inside me. It undoes everything I know. It makes me want to scream, and

weep, and just stop being. If I could do this forever, I’d be the happiest person on the planet. Nothing’s better than this. Nothing.

Brian grabs my thighs and digs his fingers into my flesh as he holds on tightly, letting me know that he’s about to cum. I quicken the

pace even more, milking his dick for all it’s worth, before I shoot all over Brian’s chest. And he’s right behind me.

I collapse on top of him, and his arms go around me as we lay there breathing heavily, trying to calm our thudding heartbeats.

“Damn, Sunshine…” he says between breaths. “You’re so fucking hot.”

I smile, and turn my head to kiss his cheek.

“It’s all you,” I tell him.

He turns his head to kiss me sweetly, and just stares. And I know what that stare means. It means what he can’t say.

I stare back at him for a few minutes, until he breaks the spell.

“Can you get off my dick now, so I can go to work?”

Yeah. He loves me.

********************

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, I’m about ready to stick my head in the oven. Fucking hell! Deb has been hounding me with

questions and giving me the evil eye all night. I swear, she can’t go thirty fucking seconds not knowing something. She wants the full

story with no details left out about everything going on in everyone’s lives. Especially mine and Brian’s. And if you ever dare to say

“It’s none of your business,” she will give you the tongue lashing of a lifetime, highlighted by a smack on the head. Today, I’ve

mostly ignored her, and given her simple yes and no answers. She’s appeased, but not amused by the lack of enthusiasm I have for

spilling my guts to her.

And to make matters worse, Mikey and Zen Ben came in about fifteen minutes ago, and it is so damn obvious that Michael is pissed

off at me again. He probably thinks it’s my fault for the way Brian treated him Friday night at Babylon. When he caught us making

out, I thought his head was going to explode. Shit, he was angry before that, when we were at Debbie’s together. I don’t know exactly

what it is that he can’t stand about me being with Brian, but it’s pissing me off. Supposedly, he doesn’t want Brian “that way”

anymore. Yeah fucking right is all I have to say. If he didn’t want him so badly, he wouldn’t be acting like this. He wouldn’t be so

fucking jealous. There’s a difference between concern for a friend, and animosity towards said friend’s lover. A big glaring difference.

I head over to my locker, and remove my apron. I gather my things, and move to the bathroom to wash my hands. I’m debating

whether to call Brian, or head over to his place as I walk out to the front, only to find him sitting in the booth opposite Michael and

Ben.

I hesitate briefly, before Brian gives me an inviting look, and I move in next to him. His arm slides around my back, and he leans in

for a kiss.

“Hey. I was just about to call you,” I inform him.

“Well you always said I had perfect timing.”

“You’re dumb,” I say, flicking him on the nose.

“Twat!” he counters, pinching me hard on the side.

“Ow! Fucker.”

“Yep, and proud of it.”

“Whatever,” I say in as bored a tone as I can muster.

I try to look away, but he holds my chin, and brings his mouth back to mine. I love it when he’s in a playful mood.

“You must’ve had a good day at work.”

“Tolerable,” he responds.

We kiss a bit more, until Deb is somehow at our side screeching.

“Well aren’t you two the happy couple.” It’s half statement, half question. I just smile at her, and feel Brian pull me closer to him.

“These two are being ridiculously sweet. It’s making me nauseous,” Ben answers her.

I cast a glance his way, and smile at him shyly.

“I don’t do sweet,” Brian announces predictably.

Everyone does a collective eye roll at his statement, and Deb soldiers on.

“Anyway… You two better be at my house on Friday. I wasn’t kidding when I said we’re doing these family meals once a week. And

if Friday ain’t good for you, tough shit. You’re coming.” She waves her finger at all of us, before smiling, and asking, “What d’ya

say?”

I glance over at Brian, and he says, “We’ll be there, Deb.”

I just smile and nod.

“Good!” And with that, she wanders off to take an order.

“Are you coming to Babylon tonight?” Michael asks, directing his gaze at Brian.

Brian shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“We should go,” I tell him.

“You want to?”

“Yeah. If you do.”

“Whatever.”

“Did you want to do something else?” I can’t imagine him taking me out two nights in a row, so unless he wants to stay home and

fuck all night, I don’t know why he’s hesitating.

“Not really. I guess we could go to Babylon.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go home first, though. I’m starving for a fuck.”

“Jesus,” Michael says with a frown.

“Where?” Brian asks, looking around. I laugh my ass off. A couple weeks ago we watched “Orgazmo”, and that had to have been

Brian’s favorite joke in the movie.

“Ha ha,” Michael deadpans, not getting the reference.

“We’ll see you boys later,” Brian says, pushing me out of the booth. I give a small wave, and grab Brian’s hand as we walk out of the

diner.

********************

“So, who’s the lucky trick tonight?” Ted asks, pointedly looking at Brian.

“Butcher? Baker? Candlestick maker?” Emmett adds.

“Tom? Dick? Harry?” Michael continues.

My poor eyes are stressed from rolling back into my sockets so many times in an hour. I don’t know why we came to Babylon tonight.

We can’t seem to escape the running commentary of the Queer Comedy Brigade. It’s getting really fucking annoying. Not only is

Brian about to snap, but I am too. I’m fed up with Ted’s pathetic put-downs, Emmett’s polite jabs, Michael’s snarky sarcasm…

All in all, I’m a little on edge, and so is Brian. We’ve been drinking since we got here, and because I’m in a hurry to leave, I make that

our excuse.

“I think we should go, before you drink too much to drive us home,” I say loudly to Brian.

“Sure, let’s get the fuck out of here. Are you spending the night?”

“Might as well,” I smile, and wiggle my eyes suggestively.

He leans over and sticks his tongue down my throat.

“Now now, boys. He’s spending the night. Plenty of time for that later,” Emmett sing-songs.

“You mean you’re not taking anyone with you? My my, the world IS getting stranger everyday,” Ted quips lamely.

“Fuck off, Ted,” Brian tosses out, taking my hand. We leave without another word.

We didn’t even really dance tonight. Neither of us were really in the mood. I think we were just trying to be normal. Do the standard

routine, when really we’re not in the standard zone. We’re thinking outside the box, and it’s making everything on the inside seem

foreign, and strange. I’m sure it won’t stay like this forever, because that’d be almost too good to be true, but for now… shit, I will

take a leave of absence from it all if it means I get to have Brian to myself for a while.

Once we reach the loft, I gather Brian into my arms, and offer words of encouragement.

“Forget about everyone else, and just remember that we’re together. I don’t care what anyone says. You don’t care what anyone says.

So, don’t fucking care. Just don’t.”

I hope that he’ll hear my words, digest them, and appreciate them. And not kick me out, or yell at me. Sometimes I still think that he’ll

revert to that attitude he used to have. I’m trying my best to help prevent it.

He sighs, and rests his forehead against my own. “I don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, let’s go to sleep,” I say, dragging him slowly by the arm.

“Without fucking?”

I laugh at him. “We’re both exhausted,” I point out, trying to rile him up.

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything? We’re not some old married couple too tired to fuck before bedtime. If you think

I’m going to sit back and let you go to sleep on me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

I just laugh and laugh, until he catches on, and starts to chase me. “You little fucker.”

********************

The next two days go by in a blur. I don’t spend one single night at my mother’s and she’s starting to give me very evil looks. But, I

don’t really care. I’m full grown man, and I don’t have a curfew, and I don’t have to sleep in my own bed every night. I’m free to

come and go as I please, just as if I was living away from my mom. Seriously though, I’m going to have to figure out something else

soon. It hasn’t really been much of a problem living with her for the last few months, but I still don’t necessarily WANT to be back

there full-time. And maybe since I’m spending so much time with Brian anyway… I don’t know. We’ve yet to bring up any serious

issues since we got back together, on account of not wanting to fuck anything up, but now it seems like we’re going to have to soon. I

don’t know if I should bring up the living situation. I’m not sure how he’d take it, and I’m not sure if I want to live with him again so

soon.

“What are you thinking about?”

I look over at Brian, startled. We fell asleep after a little Thursday afternoon delight, and now it’s almost seven. I wonder if I should

finally give in and head home for the night.

“Wondering if I should go home.”

“Don’t,” he grunts, rolling over on top of me. “Stay.”

Well when he puts it that way…

We kiss lightly, and when he starts pushing his tongue into my mouth, I chuckle, and pull my head back.

“Brian, I have to go home at some point.”

He raises as an eyebrow and opens his mouth to speak, then hesitates, lowering his forehead down against mine.

I know what it is he wants to say, but he’s struggling just as much as I am about what the right decision is.

I’m about to bite the bullet, when the phone rings… actually, it’s my cell phone. I roll us over, and reach over the side of the bed to

pull the phone out of the pocket of my jeans.

Brian frowns up at me as I answer, “Hello?”

“Justin! How are you?” Lindsay.

“I’m doing good, you?”

“I’m well. Listen, I know it’s kind of short notice, but I was wondering if you could come over for a couple hours and watch Gus?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“I’d really appreciate it. I could pay you double what I normally do.”

“I don’t care about the money, I was just kind of in the middle of something.”

“Who is it?” Brian inquires.

“Lindsay,” I tell him, covering the phone as Lindsay rants about her plans. “She wants to know if I can watch Gus for a couple of

hours.”

He grabs the phone out of my hand and cuts her off mid-plea.

“Why didn’t you call me?… Whatever, I would’ve dropped everything… You don’t know that… Kiss my ass… Calm down… Look,

we’ll be there in half an hour if you’ll stop your bitching and moaning… You’re welcome.”

He cuts the phone off, and tosses it on the nightstand.

“Guess we’re gonna have company tonight.”

********************

We get to Muncher Villa, and the girls are all smiles, tossing out thank yous and apologies. I didn’t even pay attention to where

Lindsay said they’re going. I know it has something to do with Mel’s work, and that’s all.

“Dada,” Gus calls out to Brian from his spot on the floor.

Brian’s face brightens as he heads over to pick him up.

“Hey, Sonny Boy! Did you miss your old man?”

“Yeah,” the baby says. One of the few distinguishable words in his vocabulary.

“Good! I missed you too.”

He giggles, and starts babbling about something, jerking to and fro. He’s so damn cute!

“So,” Mel says, bringing my attention back to the girls, “you and Brian are really back together.”

“Yep. Really back together.”

“And I thought you’d finally found your sanity,” she quips, and Lindsay swats her.

“Yeah,” I answer. “Me too.”

“Well, I think it’s great Justin. Brian seems to have changed a bit in the last couple of months,” Lindsay gushes. “I think you two have

a decent shot this time.”

“I do too,” I smile, hoping that they’ll shut the fuck up and get the hell out.

“Leave him alone,” Brian warns from the other room.

Lindsay’s smile wavers, and Mel ushers her along.

“We should get going. Have fun, boys!”

“Get him to bed in an hour. He’s already eaten dinner,” Lindsay informs me as they head to the door.

“Will do. Have fun.” I follow to lock the door behind them.

I walk into the living room and sprawl out on the couch.

“I don’t know why I’m so exhausted,” I proclaim.

“I do.”

“Jus!” Gus yells, finally noticing my presence. He’s quickly on his feet running towards me, and I yelp as he throws himself on my

belly, laughing excitedly.

“Be careful. I’m fragile.”

He takes that as a sign to bounce up and down on my stomach, humming. I can’t help but laugh through the pain.

The hour goes by quickly, and when it comes time, Brian takes over prepping Gus for bed. They disappear upstairs, and I plop down

on the couch again, tired and hungry. I debate whether or not to rummage through the fridge, then decide against it. I can fucking wait

til we get back to the loft. I lie back on the couch and close my eyes, trying not to think about anything, and fighting not to fall asleep.

I keep thinking back to all the serious discussions Brian and I have waiting in the wings. I don’t mean to, it just happens. I’m not good

at confrontation. Neither of us are. That’s why I’m also so damn nervous before we have serious conversations about us. Any other

conversation is fine, but the ‘us’ ones are terrifying.

All my thoughts clear when I feel Brian lay himself on top of me. I smile, but keep my eyes closed.

“Well, the kid’s asleep,” he informs me.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And the mommies are gone.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just me and you,” he says quietly against my lips.

I let him kiss me a little, before I interrupt.

“Are you trying to fuck me on Mel and Linds’ couch?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re crazy.”

“They won’t be home for at least an hour. Plenty of time for a quick go.”

“No!” I laugh.

“Stop pretending to be modest. I want to fuck you. And this is just one more place we haven’t done it yet.”

“You’re SO romantic!” I joke.

“I am. I’m fucking Casanova,” he says, diving at my mouth.

I try to stop his roaming hands, but they’re persistent. They manage to undo my jeans in seconds flat, and push my shirt up past my

nipples. Brian detaches his mouth from my own, and attacks my right nipple with a vengeance. That’s one of my weaknesses and he

knows it. Goddammit!

“Brian!” I try to say it in a chastising tone, but it comes out in more of a moan.

He brings his face back up to mine, and kisses me with such intensity that I lose all reservation, and my hands begin exploring his

body. I pull his shirt off, and grab his ass, grinding his dick against my own.

“Did I convince you?” He smirks down at me.

“Lick me.”

“Gladly.”

He curls his tongue, and licks the tip of my nose, trailing a path way downtown. My dick is just coming out of my pants when the

inevitable occurs.

“Jesus Christ!” I hear Mel’s voice, and wince.

Brian’s head comes up quickly, “Where?”

And I can’t help losing it. I mean really losing it. I’m snorting like a fucking pig, laughing my ass off, and Brian just sits atop my

body, grinning slyly down at me, and then up at Mel and Lindsay.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him these days.”

“Will you two get your fucking clothes on, and go fuck somewhere else,” Mel says, sounding mad and amused at the same time.

I can’t see the look on their faces from where I am.

Brian reaches down, and grabs his shirt, slipping it over his head. Then he has the courtesy to zip me up, and pull down my shirt,

before he gets off the couch, and extends his hand to me. I rise slowly, and am relieved to see Lindsay smirking, and Mel acting tough,

with a hand on her hip.

“You’re early,” I state, flustered.

There’s an awkward silence before Brian breaks in, “Just so you know, HE seduced ME.”

********************

We arrive at Debbie’s on Friday night, fashionably late, cuz we were busy fucking. We’ve done an awful lot of that this week. More

than usual. If we continue this route of making up for lost time, we’re never going to end up talking about anything, only to walk

around in a well-fucked haze. And that’s fine with me. For now.

Brian takes my hand as we get to the door, and pauses to give me a reassuring kiss before we get in the house. I think we both need it.

Dealing with our little family can be very trying, and it has been this past week for sure. Shit, this only just started last Friday. The

first night we were seen together in months by these people. So fucking much has changed since then, and they don’t even know it.

We’re still caught up in our kissing, when Deb throws the door open.

“Holy shit, NOW they’re gonna do it on our porch!” she exclaims, looking back at the group. Appropriate laughter fills the room.

Fuck. Of course Mel and Linds already blabbed about last night. Should offer plenty of witty comments for the rest of the night.

“I wanna watch!” I hear Ted yell out, and another roar of laughter can be heard.

I squeeze Brian’s hand, and he gives me the “fuck ‘em” look.

“Well can we fucking come in, before I really do fuck him on the porch?”

“Sure, Hun,” Deb beams at us.

We walk in and take our seats at the table.

“So, which one of you bitches blabbed?” Brian tosses out.

“Oh come on, Brian. You have to admit it’s a funny story,” Lindsay answers.

“It’s not that funny. I was merely trying to give my boyfriend a blowjob.”

All activity around the table ceases, as Brian’s words register.

“Honey, did you just use the ‘b’ word?” Emmett asks.

“What, ‘blowjob’?” Brian says, being deliberately obtuse.

“No, Brian,” I decide to play, “he means ‘boyfriend’.”

“Oh, THAT ‘b’ word. Did I say that?”

“I believe you did, yes.”

“And I was referring to…”

“Me,” I indicate, smiling brightly.

“Yeah. Well, then I guess that’d be true, huh?”

“As far I know, yeah.”

“Okay, I’m glad that’s cleared up.”

“Me too!” I say kissing him quickly and sweetly.

“You two are going to give me a fucking heart attack!” Deb exclaimed, breaking the silence of the others at the table, as they laugh at

her enthusiasm.

“Enough with the theatrics, let’s eat!” Vic declared.

And I sit back, content, sneaking glances at Brian, and smiling my ass off.

I fucking love him so much sometimes. I really really do.

14. Truth Doesn’t Make a Noise

As light drifts into the loft, illuminating the bedroom more and more, I’m finding it hard to ignore how tight my insides feel, all

wrapped up in nerves. I watch him sleep, and I feel… lucky. Very lucky to have him all to myself again, but also terribly

apprehensive. We both know that today is the day of the big talk. And I know that things have to be said, and I’m ready to say some of

those things, but I still get that urge to just bolt out the door in all my naked glory. Just run and run and maybe disappear somewhere.

But I can’t. I have no place to hide anymore. The old familiar trappings of my life have lost their appeal. I can’t really put my finger

on the exact moment I realized that, but I just know. I can’t go back. It would be extremely stupid of me to try. And I don’t want to

try. I don’t even want to want to try. But I wish I did. I think it’d be easier than facing all of this dead on.

The other night, before Lindsay’s phone call interrupted, I almost let the words fly out of my mouth. “Come back home,” I was going

to say. The words were on the very tip of my tongue, dangling precariously… but I was saved the humiliation. And it would’ve been

humiliating, because I would’ve tried to take them back, or he would’ve said “no”, or “let me think about it”. Then I would’ve gotten

angry… possibly done something stupid. I wasn’t ready to ask him, and he wasn’t ready to ask me either. But it should be asked. It

should be talked about. All of it should be brought up once and for all. Every last gritty detail. Not because either of us really enjoys

suffering, but because we enjoy being together. And we can’t go on pretending that we don’t have a past. That we haven’t done and

said stupid things. And we can’t build any kind of a future if we don’t start with a clean slate. The past week has been pretty amazing,

but we’re not out of the woods yet. He needs some kind of verbal reassurance that it won’t all slip away. I need to know that he won’t

let it fall apart. That he’ll keep saving my ass. That he won’t give up on me again. And I won’t give up on him. Ever.

And despite our hesitation to live together again, here, sharing this space, 24-fucking-7, I know he wants to give it a shot. And I know

I want him here. I haven’t let him spend one night at his mother’s since the day I got him back. I don’t want him to not be here when I

fall asleep at night. I want to fuck him senseless, then lie there feeling his heat radiating next to me. I want his arm around me as he

drifts to sleep, and I want my arm to be crushed underneath him when I open my eyes in the morning. I want to look at his face as the

sunlight streams through the windows, and feel his smile when he awakens to find me staring at him.

He turns me into this goddamn romantic fool… I hate that shit. But I can’t help what I feel. I can just try to mind what I say to him.

Keep some of it to myself so he doesn’t feel he’s won. I don’t really know what the contest is, but it seems we always have one going

on. Maybe not lately, but usually… he’s always struggling to gain some kind of power over me. I think somewhere along the way he

figured out that I have all this power over him. Because of what he feels for me, and all that I’ve held back from him. All the times

he’s given into me, and my fucked-up philosophy. He just has yet to figure out that it goes both ways. Because I feel just as much for

him, and he’s held back from me, and I’ve given in to him over and over again. I just never exerted myself too much. I’d give a little,

and keep a large chunk safely stashed away inside myself.

But, that’s changed, hasn’t it?

I’m trying so fucking hard this time. I’m trying more than I’ve ever really tried in my entire miserable life. And it is for me. I am

trying for myself. But it’s all because of him. He made me want to try. He gave me a reason to try. He had faith in me. When we

became friends that day in the diner, he put this faith in me. Incredible faith. No one has ever believed in me that much. And that’s

why I keep trying.

I never want to see that look of defeat on his face again. That look I saw when he walked away from me. I never want him to feel so

low over me. I know all about feeling low, and he’s had too much of it in his life already. And all that kind of started because of me.

Indirect as the influence may be. I’m the one who saw him standing there that night, beckoning me to come take him away

somewhere. I’m the one who fucked his ass, and outed him to his school, and made him leave his family behind, and went to his prom,

and looked after him during those dark days when he wanted to give up. I’m the one who couldn’t give him enough, and made him

leave me, and put that look on his face, and that feeling inside him… that low low feeling.

This is kind of like my act of redemption. If I can make him happy, and focus on him, and not myself for once… if I can erase some of

the pain… I can make up for some of what I took away from him. I can turn the worst thing that ever happened to him into the best. I

know he probably already thinks I’m the best thing that ever happened to him, but I know differently. And I can correct the error, and

make up the difference.

If all that means that I have to settle in for another talk, I will.

I reach over to grab my cigarette case off of the night stand, and light one, hoping he’ll wake up soon. I’m fucking hungry, and I want

to take a shower and get out of here for a while. If we start the day off pleasantly, there’s a better chance of our talk not erupting into a

fight later on. At least I hope.

I finish my cigarette, and tired of waiting, I throw myself onto his body, kissing all over his face, neck, and chest.

“Jesus, Brian! What the fuck!”

“Rise and shine, Sunshine!” I smile sweetly.

“Fuck off!” he laughs out, trying to push me away.

“Get your ass in the shower now, or I will not fuck you until tonight.”

“Yeah right! Like you could hold out that long!”

“Care to test me?”

He gives me an incredulous look, huffing and puffing, as he rises from the bed, and stomps off to the bathroom.

“Fuckin’ kid,” I mutter.

“I heard that!”

********************

Luckily no one we know is at the diner this morning… well, except for Deb. She seems to always be here. But all the other customers

look suspiciously like couples enjoying a Saturday brunch. The thought that I am part of one of those couples makes me shudder. Am

I that pathetic?

“What are you scowling about?” Justin asks.

“It’s a fucking homo couples convention in here this morning.”

Justin looks around, and sighs. “At least we’re the hottest pair here.”

“Obviously. That’s always the case though. I’m losing my fucking appetite.”

“Stop being a pussy.” He loves to fucking call me on my shit. “No need to freak out because of something so inane.”

I try my best to look seriously agitated, and let out a sigh of my own.

“Whatever,” I say airily. Basically, I’m saying, ‘You’re right, I give up’. And of course he knows as much.

He smiles his annoyingly bright smile, and shakes his head.

“What’ll it be, boys?” Debbie’s voice assaults my senses.

“Big-ass breakfast for me,” I tell her.

“Well, Sunshine, I’m glad you’re back to work off all his calories, and give him a healthy appetite,” she laughs, patting his hand.

“Me too,” he replies, sneaking a meaningful look my way. “I’ll have an omelet. You know how I like it. And hash browns.”

“Okey dokey,” she says, walking back to the counter.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, following Debbie.

“Deb.”

“Bri.”

“I need you to let Justin off today.”

“What for?”

“Personal reasons.”

“Fuck that. I know exactly what kind of personal reasons you two have, and you can screw him all you want on your own time.”

“It’s not that. Christ, we do other things besides fucking you know.”

“If you say so, honey.”

“Look, it’s about… we need to talk. Like a really serious talk. I need to do it today, before I lose my nerve. And I need for it to go

well, and I don’t want him to have to take a break to come to work.”

She stares at me in silence, and suddenly her face lights up.

“Brian Kinney, I am so fucking proud of you!” And then she has me in a death grip.

I hug her back, and then pat her a couple times to let her know that she needs to back off. She pulls back, and smacks me upside the

head, smacking her gum.

Before she can get in another word, I dart around her, and make my way back to the booth. Justin is slumped over the table, head

propped up by his arm which is resting on the table, his face painted with a look of absolute boredom.

“What the hell was that about?”

“I just got you out of working today.”

“Really?” he perks up, straightening his body.

“You’re off the hook.”

“Sweet! What’s the occasion?”

“Just wanted to spend the day with you,” I state simply. “Maybe you should stop working Saturdays altogether.”

“I don’t think so. I make good tips on the weekend.”

“I’ll make up for it. I can give you way better tips than anything you’ll get here.”

“Perv.”

“Nymph.”

********************

“Put that back. It’s Classic Night, remember?”

“So? We’ll watch it later. I really want to see it, finally.”

“You just want to gape at Brad Pitt’s abs. Don’t even try to tell me you’ve never seen ‘Fight Club’. I know we’ve seen it together

before.”

“You remember?”

“Why are you still acting surprised that I remember shit? I told you I can remember lots of things.”

“You are so cute!” he smiles widely, throwing himself onto me, attacking my mouth with his own in the middle of the video store.

“Don’t ever fucking call me cute again. Especially not in public, and especially not so fucking loud.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs, but keeps ‘Fight Club’ clutched tightly in his hands as we peruse the DVD section.

“I wish James Dean had made a few more movies before he died,” Justin says, as his eyes find ‘Rebel without a Cause’.

“Don’t we all.”

“I saw ‘Giant’ on TMC recently… what a horrible waste of queers. It was the most boring, pointless movie ever.”

“Could Elizabeth Taylor’s character be more of a ridiculous push-over?”

“No. That entire movie was a waste.”

“I agree. Who the hell would choose to be with Rock Hudson over James Dean? Besides, Rock Hudson’s character was a complete

dick with no redeeming qualities and still everybody loved him.”

“Ridiculous.”

“We could watch ‘East of Eden’ again. Isn’t that your favorite?” I ask him.

“Yeah, but we just saw it a couple months ago.”

“Right. Well, it’s kind of depressing anyway.”

“How about a Brando film?”

“No. I’m burnt out on Brando. Something else.”

“You pick something.”

“You always make me pick.”

“You’re the picky one. I don’t care enough.”

“Whatever. I’m not picky, I’m just not complacent.”

“I’m not complacent.”

“Sure you’re not.”

“Just pick a fucking movie, and let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t rush me.”

“Whatever. I’ll be over in the porno section.”

“Stop being a princess. Get your ass back here, and let’s pick a fucking movie. Together. So you won’t be blamed for complacency,

and I won’t be blamed for pickiness.”

Christ, if we can’t even do this without drama…

He sidles back up to me, sighing in defeat, and I slip an arm around his waist. I feel him soften at the gesture, and he leans into my

side.

“What about ‘400 Blows’? I’ve never seen it,” I suggest, and I feel his body stiffen instantly.

“Um, I’ve seen it.”

“Really? I thought you hated subtitles? And French people.”

“Not really.”

“So, should we get it?”

“I told you I saw it already.”

“So?”

“I’ve seen practically everything Francois Truffaut has done. He’s Ethan’s favorite director.”

Well, that explains it. Before any feelings can emerge, I fight them off. Jealousy, anger, hurt… I can’t let those emotions surface

today. Not right now. I have to stay jollier than the Green Giant himself.

“Your turn to toss out a suggestion,” I say, placing the case back on the shelf.

He softens again, when I don’t make a big deal about him mentioning Ethan.

“I’ve never seen ‘Dr. Strangelove’.”

“Then ‘Dr. Strangelove’ it is.”

“Only if you want to see it.”

“I do. I haven’t watched it in a long time. I really like Stanley Kubrick.”

“Next time we should get ‘A Clockwork Orange’.”

“That’s my favorite,” I smile.

“Figures.”

We walk up to the counter and I pay for both movies. If Justin wants to watch ‘Fight Club’ for the umpteenth time, who am I to

refuse? I’m not exactly wary of seeing hot guys fight each other with their shirts off.

“Is there anywhere else you want to go before we head back home?”

His head whips around so fast when I say that. I didn’t exactly mean it like… shit. He’s so nervous.

“Not really,” he answers.

“Okay,” I reply awkwardly. I’m nervous too.

We walk back to the jeep in silence.

********************

I never dawdle. I’m not one for stalling, dragging things out, or postponing the inevitable. I’m not very patient. I usually don’t let my

calm exterior crack, but that doesn’t mean much coming from me. Even then, I still feel the nerves eating away at my insides. So as

much as I have delayed and hesitated in the past, I’ve never really wandered around my loft aimlessly, fooling with random objects,

avoiding my lover’s unwavering stare. And that’s exactly what I find happening at this very moment.

I really do want to say something… anything to get the ball rolling, but I don’t have a clue where to start.

“Brian.”

“Hm?”

“Just spit it out.”

I glance over at him, and he has this small half-smirk on his face. The subtle kind that normally resides on my face at times like these.

Instead, here I am, afraid to speak. This must’ve been what Justin felt like all those times he held back from me, and the times he

actually brought himself to say something.

“I don’t know…”

“Just start wherever you want,” he says, moving to sit on the couch.

“It’s not that simple. The question is how far back do I go? I can’t even remember anymore, you know? Exactly what happened…”

“I can’t either.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Let’s at least be honest if we’re going to do this. You pulled away from me at some point, so you must know.”

“What are you talking about? I did not pull away. You pushed me away. There’s a big difference.”

“How so? You’ve always been the aggressive one in this relationship. I’ve always been the one who reluctantly follows. You stopped

playing your role when you couldn’t take it anymore.” And I pushed you away.

“And you fucking blame me for it? You honestly think I’d just let you treat me that way forever? That I wouldn’t get sick of it? I

thought you were changing. That you were growing out of your old life, but just when everything was going great, you randomly

freaked out, and reverted back to the asshole we all knew you as.”

This is not going how I expected. I was fantasizing a really polite little chat about trying harder in the future. But, in reality, I knew

this would happen. That it would be a battle of sorts. Not too bloody, I hope.

“Dammit, Justin… I was trying. I couldn’t just warp into some fucking happy homo life mate overnight!”

“You call two years overnight?”

“YES! It’s not like we were really together that whole time. I fucked your brains out for a year, and then you got hurt…”

“What the fuck does THAT mean?”

Shit. Fuck. I don’t know…

“I just… I’m just saying that we weren’t exactly together for that entire two year period.”

“Cut the shit! I certainly didn’t see anyone else stick around. And I didn’t see you let anyone. From the first night you met me, I’ve

been different than anyone in your life ever has been. Even more so after the second, third, fourth, fifth, twentieth, and one-fucking-

hundredth time you fucked me in that bed,” he says gesturing wildly towards the bedroom. “You knew it. I knew it. Everybody

fucking knew it. You can’t still be in total denial about that! I know you aren’t.”

“So you were different. What does that mean?”

“Everything.”

And I don’t say anything. Because I know he’s right. We both know it so well.

“Why’d you go to Vermont?” I ask him quietly, settling into a chair across from him.

“I don’t know… I guess I felt like: ‘Fuck you,’ you know? I felt like you’d slapped me in the face by not going, so I’d slap you back. I

mean… you never even tried to explain what was going on. I just figured you didn’t care.”

“I really wanted you to be here,” I admit. “I wanted you to be the first to know about my promotion. I wanted to see your face. I

wanted to fuck you into the mattress. I wanted to go with you. I didn’t think you’d just go without me. And I guess that pissed me

off.”

“Yeah, well… it kinda pissed me off that you didn’t have the decency to call. That you were fucking some guy in the bed when I came

back. What the fuck, Brian? You expected me to react like some doormat teenager, and I just didn’t want to do that anymore. It’s not a

crime to get tired of the same routine.”

“You could’ve told me.”

“No, I couldn’t have. You wouldn’t have listened. It was totally pointless to even try to talk to you. You hear what you want to hear,

you storm out when you want to, you only acknowledge what’s convenient for you to acknowledge. I didn’t tell you, because I

couldn’t. You know that. You know yourself… how you would’ve reacted. It’s not even worth going over the what ifs in this case,

because the outcome would’ve been the same. Ethan, or no Ethan… I would’ve left.”

“You can’t just pin it all on me. That’s too easy, and too untruthful.”

“I know that. I do. I was at fault just as much as you were, but it doesn’t matter now.”

“Yes it does. It does matter if you want this to work. You have to tell me what you want. You have to help me stay in line. We have to

go over all this shit, so we don’t end up repeating the same bullshit mistakes over and over again.”

“Why’d you get me a hustler?”

“It was short notice. I didn’t know… I mean I did know, but I thought… I know it was bad,” I grimace.

He smiles at that. But then I remember that that was the day he met Ethan. The fucking solution to his domestic problems, apparently,

albeit temporarily.

“What was going through your head?” I ask him, not really meaning to. I’ve always wanted to know. The question has been going

round and round in my head for months.

“What do you mean?”

“What were you thinking when you left?”

“I don’t know… I was thinking… that you would never change, no matter how much… I mean, I figured that I could either stay and

be miserable, or leave and be miserable, but still have a shot at being relatively happy. I liked Ethan enough, but he was just a factor,

not a reason. I didn’t leave because of Ethan…”

“You left because of me.”

“And me. I knew who you were, but I thought… I couldn’t wait anymore. I was so fucking tired of waiting. It seems like I was always

waiting for something from you. Whenever there’s a lack, it’s all you can feel, you know? Whatever you have doesn’t quite measure

up to what you don’t have. I always sort of felt that way with you.”

“I only felt that when you left.”

“You did?”

“Yeah… everything was so… empty. It was like there was a huge gaping hole… some all-consuming void of space. It was pretty

fucked up.”

“That doesn’t just go away.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Right after I left, you were so hurt. You must still resent me for it.”

“I don’t.”

“Not even a little?”

“I was hard to live with.”

His belt of laughter reverberates loudly in the open space.

“That is the biggest fucking understatement I’ve ever heard!”

“What? Living with you wasn’t all roses.”

“I’m a goddamn saint compared to you.”

“You’re an obnoxious teenager. ‘Nough said.”

“Blow me.”

“Later.”

“I stayed out of your way most of the time.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Maybe I didn’t want you to.”

“Yes you did.”

“How would you know? You never asked.”

“I didn’t have to ask. I knew what you wanted from me, and when you wanted it.”

“You did. That was always nice.”

“What? Not having to go hunting?” he taunts.

“Yeah. The thrill dies after a while. I guess I got lazy…”

“Fuck you!”

“I said ‘later’.”

“You’re exasperating.”

“Move back in.”

“What?”

“I want you here. I don’t want you to go. Even for a night. I want you to live here.”

“You do?”

I nod.

“We haven’t even finished talking.”

“I don’t care. I wanted to tell you now, before I kill you, or lose my nerve…” I say, rising from the chair, and moving towards him.

“Move back in,” I repeat, sitting on his lap, touching his face, running my thumb over his full bottom lip. I love that lip.

“Are you sure it’ll be okay?”

“No. But we’ll try. I’ll try. You know how much I’m trying. It’s like my fucking mantra. Like the Pavement song: ‘I’m trying, I’m

trying, I’m trying, I’m trying’,” I sing, knowing he doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about. My days of listening to college radio

are long gone.

“I know you’re trying… I guess I’ll try too.”

“You will?”

“Of course I will.”

“So you’re moving in?”

“Yes.”

I lean in to kiss him.

“Thank you,” I tell him softly.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

He leans in to kiss me again, before softly replying, “You’re welcome.”

I stay like that, leaning my forehead against his, enjoying the silence.

“Um, Brian? Will you get the fuck off me now?”

I laugh softly.

“Yeah,” I answer, falling back onto the couch, pulling him on top of me.

I close my eyes, and think about what just happened. Maybe it’s not for the best. Maybe we’d be better off living apart, but I don’t

care. I’m not trying to be practical, I’m just trying to get what I want, and give him what he wants. If he weren’t here in the loft, I

doubt I’d see him much at all. I doubt we’d accomplish much with this relationship thing.

All I know is this time, fuck rules. I am not about to make that mistake again. I mean… rules? Like I ever followed the rules before

this little twat laid down the law. No… I’ve learned my lesson about the nature of rules.

“Brian.”

“Hm?”

“I never gave up on you,” he says against my chest. “It’s just that something had to change.”

I don’t respond.

“You gave me an out, and I took it,” he continues, pausing to lift his head. He looks directly into my eyes, as he finishes, “Don’t ever

do that again.”

We stay like that for a while, just staring into each other’s eyes.

I think of all the whys: why I pushed him away, why I made him choose, why I made him think I didn’t care, why I made him leave. I

thought I was right. I thought all of my reasons were good ones. But in the end, they mostly just brought pain. Then again, look at all

the good that came of it. Look at where we are now. I never thought we’d ever be here. After all this time… me lying here with him

on top of me. Me wanting it no other way. Me not being able to handle it any other way. I never thought I’d be good at this.

“I won’t,” I answer.

Maybe I’m learning.

“Good,” he says sincerely. “Can we finish this conversation another time?”

“Please!” I respond with a look of mock horror, causing him to laugh lightly. “Why don’t you put in the movie.”

“Okay,” he says getting up, and heading for the television.

“The classic, please. You can watch ‘Fight Club’ on your own time.”

“Oh, come off it. You know you’re going to watch it with me.”

“Maybe. If I feel like it.”

“You’re such a liar. You’ll be there with bells on.”

I laugh at that.

“What?” he inquires, turning to look at me with his beautiful smile.

“You’ve never used that phrase before, ever in your life.”

“You’ve only known me for a small fraction of my life, so how would you know?”

“I just do.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he chuckles.

He puts the disc in the player, and makes his way back to the sofa, stretching out across my body.

“So doctor, up for some strange love?” he quips.

“Wow, that’s bad… I think I can do better though…”

“Yeah, how?”

“Well, the full title of the movie is ‘Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb’. So… I was thinking,

‘Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Blonde Bombshell’.”

“Aha… that’s pretty lame,” he smiles brightly down at me.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

“Shut up, and watch the movie.”

“It hasn’t even started yet.”

“Shhhhh!”

“Fine, no cock for you tonight.”

“Quiet.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“Can it.”

“Absolutely no dick in your ass, or mouth for at least 24 hours.”

“Stop the lies, and watch the movie.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.”

“Hey, this movie is funny. Go get my stash.”

“Only if you take back your empty threats.”

“Never.”

“Then no pot for you.”

“Stop being a twat. I have no qualms about pushing your ass off of me, and onto the cold hard floor.”

“Just give up, Kinney.”

“Just go get my little box of goodies.”

“Promise me sexual compensation, and I will.”

“For fuck’s sake, I promise to fuck you, now go get my stash!”

“I love it when you get all Rage-y,” he teases, kissing me on the nose, before hopping up.

I give him a good smack on the ass, and he yelps, jogging to the bedroom.

I smile contentedly, closing my eyes again, awaiting his return.

Justin practically bounces back into the living room. He tosses my little brown drug box at me, and makes his way to the DVD player,

shutting it off.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, sitting up as I remove a joint from the box.

“Putting on some music. We can watch this later.”

I watch as he places a CD in the stereo, and clicks forward to the track he wants to hear.

‘Conduit for Sale’ by Pavement comes on, and I’m shocked. I haven’t heard the song in about 10 years.

“How the fuck?”

He smiles mischievously, snatching the joint out of my hand, and lighting it as he sits next to me on the couch yoga-style.

“This girl at school makes me mixtapes. She likes Pavement,” he smirks, exhaling smoke.

I snatch the joint back from him, and hit it. As I exhale, I sing along, “I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m

trying, I’m trying, I’m trying…”

Justin laughs at me belting out the repetitive chorus, and I keep hitting the joint, then pass it to him. He’s so cute when he’s stoned. He

makes the most hilarious faces. And he loves to watch me, and make me laugh. He doesn’t think I laugh enough when I’m sober.

“If you make fun of me at all, once I’m high, I’ll seriously hold out tonight,” he tells me.

“Now who’s lying?”

“I’m not fucking joking. You always make fun of me. It kills my buzz.”

“Liar. You love it when I make fun of you. It always leads to fun.”

“Ooh… I think Iggy Pop is on this CD! You know… ‘All aboard for FUNTIME!’”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were broadening your musical horizons?”

He passes the joint back to me. “I’m telling you now.”

“You’re gaining lots of points tonight.”

“I know.”

His eyes, now glazed over from his high, twinkle mischievously, and he jumps off of the couch, moving back to the stereo. He

switches the song to “Funtime”, and starts a sloppily seductive Iggy Pop-like dance.

I just sit there, holding in my laughter, letting it build up inside of me until it spills from my lips.

‘Fun… Hey baby, we like your lips

Fun… Hey baby, we like your pants

All aboard for Funtime,

Fun… Hey I feel lucky tonight

Fun… I’m gonna get stoned and run around

All aboard for Funtime’

It is really funny, but at the same time, it’s really hot. He reaches a hand out, and after flicking out the cherry on the joint, I accept his

offer, letting him drag me away from my comfort zone to dance ridiculously with him.

“I could be making fun of you right now,” I say. “But instead, look at me. I’m being ridiculous with you.”

“Aw, thanks for the sacrifice. Isn’t it fun?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

The song ends, and another Iggy classic comes on: ‘Nightclubbing’.

I press my hips against Justin’s, and pull him close, licking and nuzzling his neck as his hands roam over the expanse of my back. He

lays his head on my left shoulder, and we move in some hybrid club-bop-slow-dance type thing. It works. It relaxes me, and gets me

excited all at once.

We sway, and revel in our drug-induced haze, forgetting about all the seriousness for a while. It’s crazy how he can get me to do these

things. He seems to know what I need. Even when I don’t.

I dance us over near the coffee table, where I can bend him backwards, and grab the remainder of the joint and my lighter. He giggles

in my ear as I do this. He didn’t see it coming. When we come back up, I put the jay back into my mouth, and re-light it, all the while

keeping my arms around his neck.

I pull away as the song ends, and collapse back onto the couch.

He throws himself down next to me, and I pass him the joint.

A mellower song comes on, and I feel thankful. Justin can’t drag me away to dance to this. It’s good though. Whatever it is.

“Who is this?” I ask him.

“The White Stripes. Aren’t they good?”

‘You try to tell her what to do,

and all she does is stare at you

Her stare is louder than your voice,

because truth doesn’t make a noise

No, truth doesn’t make a noise

Truth doesn’t make a noise’

“Tolerably.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Come over here,” I beckon, crooking my finger at him.

He slowly moves onto his knees, inching forward to straddle my legs, and sit on my lap. He gazes at me intently, leaning forward and

dipping his tongue into my mouth, kissing me hungrily. I kiss him back just as fervently, pressing him tight against my body.

My head is swimming, a mixture of the euphoric high from the drugs, and the high I get when I’m with him like this. I feel so

connected, and understood. I feel the need to hide melting away. I like that he sees me. That he knows me. That we can be here

together like this. We can lay all our shit out on the table, and then laugh it all away to a good soundtrack. We can sit here and yell at

each other, and then get stoned, make out, and act like goofy, lovesick teenagers. We can fucking dance around the room like fools

without a care in the world.

Isn’t that the way it should be? A full experience? The whole nine yards?

“We’re wasting weed,” he says, pulling away from me, and reaching for the joint in my right hand.

I watch as he turns it backwards and pops it into his mouth. He looks at me, and I know what he wants. I lean forward and let him

shotgun me. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that to me before. I’ve done it plenty, but for some reason it just never happened the

other way around.

“I’ve taught you well, young Grasshopper.”

He removes they jay from his mouth, and says, “Tolerably.”

It’s times like these when I really want to say ‘I love you’. But however big a part of me wants to just get it over with, there’s still a

part of me that can’t. I stare into his lovely baby blues, and I swear the words are on the tip of my tongue, but they can’t quite…

“What?” he asks.

“I… I’m…” I stammer, trying to find something appropriate to say.

I close my eyes to gather my thoughts, when I feel his finger touching my lips. I force my eyes open again, and can’t escape his

penetrating stare.

“I know, Brian.”

And that’s that. He lets me off the hook. And he knows. I know he knows. At least I can be happy with that. And he seems happy

enough with quiet knowledge, because I think that it is so fucking true… truth doesn’t make a noise.

Truth just is.

The End