BRIAN:

 

The second I walk inside, all eyes are on me, all wondering how the hell I ended up here:  picking up my boyfriend to go to the airport for our little romantic getaway.  I’m wondering the same thing.  This was not what I wanted.  Ever.  I never had those ridiculous romantic notions about relationships.  No, my dear old dad did a wonderful job knocking those right out of my head pretty early on in life. 

 

So, how did I end up here?  Standing in Debbie’s doorway, the subject of enquiring glances across the room?  Searching for a particular pair of eyes.  The eyes that always tell me the truth, even if the rest of him is lying. 

 

Justin’s been trying to figure out what was the moment that signaled us getting back together.  Silly waste of time if you ask me.  Everybody wants to know that. How we were able to overcome all the bullshit that destroyed us the first time around?  I don’t have an answer for that.  Neither does Justin.  That’s why he’s trying to figure it out, I guess.  Not for them.  For himself.  Maybe for both of us.  Who knows?  One day he says it was him showing up on the second anniversary of the bashing.  Then he says it was me showing up here out of the blue.  Maybe it was.  I don’t know. 

 

I’m still not sure how I ended up at Deb’s instead of Michael’s that night.  That was the plan.  I didn’t want to be alone, so I was heading toward Michael’s.  He was the only one who knew how shitty my life was when we were kids.  He understood.  He didn’t give me all that sympathetic shit either.  He was just there for me.  Which was exactly what I needed.  So, why did I go to Justin instead?  Justin probably thinks I blamed it on booze and drugs.  And I let him think that.  But the truth is, when he just sat next to me and said, “Fuck ‘em,” I knew.  I figured it out right there and then.  He was the other part of me.  The part that was missing.  The part that I NEVER wanted to find.  Because it was the part that cared, and loved, and made me vulnerable.  The part that made me human. 

 

But if you think that that realization changed anything between us, well, you’re wrong.  At least, on the outside.  Too much crap happened between us.  And I wasn’t sure we could get past that.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to, either.  The truth was, it hurt when he left.  It fucking hurt.  And I’m not a sucker for punishment.  Never had been.  Yet, I couldn’t completely cut him out of my life.  Even right after he left, I still wanted him in my life.  I needed to know that he was ok.  That he was taken care of, even if I wasn’t the one who was taking care of him.  It’s been that way from the beginning.  Me looking out for him.  Maybe it was all the nagging I got from everybody.  “He’s your responsibility.”  Fuck that.  My only obligation was always to myself.  Nobody else.  Yet, somehow I ended up accepting a role of the protector.  At which I failed horribly.  Maybe that’s why I tried to make up for it afterwards.  I don’t know.  Frankly, I don’t know shit. 

 

I do know that when I showed up at the diner a couple of days after my minor breakdown looking for Justin and found out that Sunshine was under the weather, I rushed over to Deb’s.  I don’t know what I was planning on doing.  I don’t know shit about taking care of a sick person.  Besides, I was sure that Debbie was deep in her mother-hen role by now.  Still, I had to make sure for myself that he was ok.  Which he wasn’t.  He looked like shit when he opened the door.  And I told him as much.

 

“Thanks,” he said sarcastically, and leaving me to close the door, headed to the kitchen.

 

I looked around for Debbie or Vic, but the house was quiet and empty. 

 

“They’re still in Philly,” Justin answered my silent question between coughs.  “Vic’s friend is sick, so they decided to stay a few more days.”

 

“You’re alone?”

 

“Yeah.  Mom wanted to come over, but Molly can get sick from a tiny gush of wind, and I didn’t want to pass my germs to her, so I told her not to,” he says, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead. 

 

“You should be in bed.”

 

“I’m ok,” he said, but his cough told me otherwise. 

 

So, I made him go upstairs and tucked him in bed.  “Did you take anything?”  He shook his head no.  I figured as much.  Besides me, Justin’s probably the worst patient in the state of Pennsylvania.  I tried to remember what my mother did when I was sick.  Then I tried to remember what Debbie did when Michael got sick.  “You need to eat something.”

 

“Not hungry,” he replied, wrapping the blanket tightly around his body.

 

That alone told me that he was not ok.  There were only two reasons Justin wouldn’t be hungry: sick or dead. 

 

“You can’t take a pill on an empty stomach,” I told him and before he could object, I headed downstairs in search of food.  I scavenged the fridge and all the cabinets, settling on chicken noodle soup.

 

“I didn’t know you could cook,” he said, opening his eyes when I carried in a steaming plate.

 

I smirked.  “I’m full of surprises.”  He just gave me a look.  “But my talents are better used in the bedroom.”  Justin raised his eyebrow at me, but didn’t crack a smile.  “Besides, Campbell is a lot better at this than I am,” I finally said.  And then he smiled. 

 

I put the plate down on the bed while he propped himself against the pillow.  “Do you need anything else?”

 

“You don’t have to do this.  I’m sure you have better things to do.”

 

For some reason that comment hurt.  “Do you need anything else?” I repeated a little more forcefully. 

 

He stared at me for a moment before nodding.  “Something to drink.”

 

“Eat your soup,” I said, making my way downstairs again.

 

It took me a few minutes to make the tea, but when I got upstairs he was already asleep, the untouched plate of soup sitting on the night table next to the bed.  I don’t know how long I stood in the doorway just watching him sleep.  I can’t even count how many times I did that while he lived with me.  It was the only time it was safe to watch him without him figuring out just how full of shit I really was.

 

I put the cup next to the plate and sat down on the bed, pulling the comforter over his shoulders.  Then I just stared down at his face.  His hair, a lot longer than he usually wore it, was covering his forehead.  I reached out to brush it aside, but stopped at the last minute.  I wanted so badly to touch him.  I felt this incredible urge that I knew wouldn’t go away by jacking off in the bathroom.  It went deeper than that.  The need to be near him.  To hold him.  To touch him.  To kiss him.  Simple things, but so complicated.  I couldn’t have that.  Not anymore.  He was mine, but at the same time he wasn’t.  And the pain from knowing that was unbearable. 

 

Not being able to be in the same room as him, I went downstairs to watch TV.  I guess I had fallen asleep somewhere between the “VH1 Behind The Music” and an infomercial for a cellulite product, because the next thing I knew my left side was completely paralyzed from lying on it all night long and I was staring into a pair of a blue eyes.  That was not the plan.  I didn’t need him to know that I spent the night because I didn’t want him to be alone.  But it was too late.  He knew.  He knew the moment I made him go upstairs and get in bed that I was going to be here in the morning when he woke up. 

 

“How are you feeling?” I asked him, while trying to massage some feeling back into my left arm.

 

“Better,” he said, walking past me and into the kitchen.  “You want some tea or coffee?” 

 

He did look better.  Still a little pale, well, paler than usual, but for the most part, he looked ok.  “No, I should get going.  Have to stop by the loft to take a shower and change before work.”  It was the truth.  Part of it, at least.  The other part was me needing to get out of there before I said or did anything else that could be interpreted as me giving a shit. 

 

He just nodded.  He knew me too well.  I had to leave.  Things were quickly getting complicated and confusing.  And it wasn’t something we both wanted or needed at the time.  We wanted simple.  My leaving was simple.  So, that’s what I did.  I left, hoping things would go back to the way they were before. 

 

But nothing ever works the way you think it will.  At least not when it comes to Justin and I.  About a week later, despite my better judgment, I showed up at the diner.  He was definitely better by then.  No coughing or sniffling.  He looked good.  Great, in fact. 

 

“Brian!” 

 

I couldn’t tell whether it was surprise or excitement at seeing me.  So, I decided not to give it a second thought, and sitting at the counter, I ordered coffee. 

 

“Deb and Vic back yet?” I asked as he poured me a cup.

 

“Yeah, got back a couple of days ago,” he replied.

 

Not knowing what to say, I just nodded.  It felt so damn awkward.  I was sure that he could see right through me, knew what I was thinking.  Just like he did in the beginning.  I guess that was our problem.  Well, one of them.  I expected him to always know me, to always know what I was thinking and feeling.  I took that for granted and I never took the time to ask him whether it was still the case.  I just expected him to know me.  I didn’t take into consideration the fact that somewhere along the way we both changed. 

 

“And you?  Feeling better?”  I asked, trying to keep him talking to me just a little while longer.

 

“Yeah, good as new,” he replied.  “Thanks,” he smiled slightly, “You’d make a good nurse.”

 

I snickered.  “If you tell anybody that, I’ll deny it with a fiery passion.”

 

He grinned at me.  “Don’t worry.  You secret is safe with me.”

 

And I knew it was.  Yes, Justin is a chatterbox.  Almost as bad as Emmett.  But he’s also the most trustworthy person I know. 

 

“I’m meeting the guys at Woody’s.  You want to come?”  I’m still not sure where the hell that came from.  It just came out of my mouth before my brain could put the breaks on it.

 

He looked at me, almost as surprised by the invitation as I was.  “I…uh…” he looked down, then back at me.  “I can’t.  I have plans.”

 

Oh.  “Oh.”  Just then I realized that he was dressed in his nice clothes, even though he had an apron over them.  He had a date.  Another one.  Justin and his silly ideals.  I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing sounded, but I found myself envious of the guy he was “dating”.  He had Justin.  I didn’t. 

 

“So, who are you dating this week?”

 

I hoped that he missed the harshness in my voice, but he heard it.  And took it exactly for what it was.  Me being jealous.  Me poking fun at him.  He shot me a look that said, “don’t go there, Brian.”  And I didn’t.  He was right.  I had no say in this.  I had no right to have a say in this.  I couldn’t give him what he wanted, so he turned elsewhere for it.

 

I threw a few bills on the counter and left.  It was becoming harder and harder to be around him.  They say that time heals all wounds.  Well, it’s all bullshit.  It was harder to be around him now than it was right after he left.  I was fine before.  I was doing great.  Until that night in May when he showed up wanting to talk about the prom.  He opened up a huge can of worms without even knowing it.  But I still gave him what he wanted, what he needed.  The problem was, the next morning when he left, he forgot to close the fucking can.  I felt open and vulnerable with all my insides hanging out for everybody to see.  Especially him.  But he was oblivious to that.  Even then when I looked at him as he prepared for his date with some other guy, he didn’t see it. 

 

I decided to forgo Woody’s and the boys and instead headed home to my best friend, Jim Beam.  But I barely had the time to open the bottle and take a sip when there was a knock on the door.  Out of all the people in my life that I expected to be on the other side of the door, Justin was not one of them.  But there he was.  Not only was he there. he was pissed.  He just pushed past me and rushed inside before I could figure out if the booze had made me hallucinate.  Then I realized that I only had one sip, so I shut the door and turned around to hear whatever it was he was about to share with me.  And I knew it wasn’t something I wanted to hear. 

 

“I’m supposed to be on a date right now.  With a great guy.  In a great restaurant.”

 

“So, why aren’t you?”  I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible as I strolled back into the kitchen.  I could tell I’d need that drink.

 

“You tell me,” he said to my back. 

 

I turned around and looked at him, confused.  “Me?  How the fuck should I know why you stood up your prince charming and barged in here interrupting my quiet evening at home.”

 

“Because you’re the only one who can answer that question.”

 

I snorted.  “He got a small dick?”

 

He obviously didn’t find that funny.  I didn’t think he would.  “You wanted a fuck?”

 

I could almost see steam coming out of his ears.  “If I wanted a fuck, I’d be fucking Alan right now,” he said it as a matter-of-fact.  Which didn’t surprise me one bit.  Justin was well on his way to building a very impressive reputation on Liberty Avenue. 

 

“Yeah, but he’s not as good as I am,” I said, walking up to him.  I stood close to him, our faces only inches apart.  I could feel his breath on my face and it instantly made me hard. 

 

I stared down at him, but instead of looking away like I thought he would, he took a step closer and stared back into my eyes.  “Can you give me what I want, Brian?”

 

I felt blindsided.  That just came out of nowhere.  I didn’t know how else to respond, so I just laughed.  I laughed in his face.  “Who the fuck do you think I am?  One of your dreamy-eyed boyfriends?  Spewing romantic bullshit and having picnics on the floor of some dump?”  I was pissed at him for bringing this all up, but we all know that my dick has a mind of its own.  And being so close to Justin didn’t help matters.  It was like the mothership calling back the troops and my dick was the first one in line.  So, I moved away, getting the glass out of the cabinet and pouring myself a nice portion of JB. 

 

He didn’t move from his spot.  “Can you?”

 

“What gives you the right to come in here and demand anything?!  You want romance?  Go back to Ethan or Alan or whoever else you can pick up at Boy Toy with romantic notions, small dicks, and no balls!”  Fuck, was I angry.  What pissed me off even more was the fact that he was so calm.  So fucking calm.  He knew exactly what he was doing.  Unfortunately, I didn’t.  He just stared at me without saying another word, waiting for me to answer him instead of avoiding his question.  I took a deep breath.  Once again he was winning and I was losing.  “What do you want?” I finally asked him, knowing full well what his answer would be.  I hoped he wouldn’t say it.  I didn’t want him to say it.  Because, if, no, WHEN he said it, I was supposed to answer him and I wasn’t sure I could.  I honestly didn’t know the answer.  But I knew that telling him ‘no’ would mean watching him walk out the door to never return again.  And saying ‘yes’ would mean something else entirely.

 

Justin’s features softened as he studied my face carefully.  “You,” he said quietly.

 

THAT was not what I expected.  I was waiting for a rant on what a relationship’s supposed to be, the flowers and poems and all that other bullshit he’d expect from me.  But that was not what he said.  He said ‘you’.

 

“Can you give me YOU?” he asked when I didn’t say anything.

 

I didn’t know.  Giving yourself to somebody else is the scariest thing in life.  Opening myself to him would mean opening myself to the possibility of being hurt again.  And that was definitely not on my agenda.

 

“Justin, the flowers and the words and all the other romantic shit…it’s just not me.  You know that.”

 

He took a step closer.  “I don’t care about that.  Those things are just signs.  Signs that prove to me that you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you.  Do you want to be with me, Brian?”

 

He stared into my eyes, but I couldn’t hold his stare.  I looked away and I felt him moving away from me.  “I guess that answers that question,” he said quietly. 

 

I didn’t look up at him.  I only heard the door open and then close again.  And once again the loft felt empty.  Emptier than before.  Or maybe it was me.  He gave me a chance and I blew it and I felt…empty.

 

I didn’t see him for a couple of weeks after that.  I’m not sure if he was avoiding me or his schedule just worked out that way.  He was never at the diner when I was there and he was missing from the club scene.  I wanted to ask Emmett, or Debbie, or even Michael.  But that would have started a whole other discussion and a string of questions that I did not want to deal with.  So, I just waited patiently, hoping that I’d “run” into him eventually.  Of course, I had no idea what I’d say once I did see him.  A part of me wanted to just tell him to fuck off.  HE was the one who left in the first place.  HE wanted out, not me.  Why should I have to answer his fucking questions? 

 

“He’s not here,” Debbie said to me when once again I showed up at the diner.

 

“Who?” I asked, cursing silently for being so fucking obvious.

 

“Who?” She stared back at me.  She knew.  She always knows everything.

 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I tried, but I knew it was futile. 

 

“Of course you don’t.  Do you at least know what you’re doing?”  She got in my face, like she usually does when she’s trying to make a point.

 

“I’m waiting for my coffee.”

 

She shook her head.  “Brian, you have to stop this.”

 

“Stop what?”  I looked at her confused. 

 

“Either make him happy or move on and give someone else a chance to make him happy.”

 

I looked down.  She was right.  Wasn’t that the plan to begin with?  That was Ethan’s job.  That’s why I let him go. 

 

She put her hands on both sides of my face, pulling my face up.  “Give yourself a chance to be happy.”

 

I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat.  I pulled away, needing to get out of there.

 

“That Alan,” she called after me.  I turned around.  “He seems like a good kid.  He’s good to Justin.”  I nodded.  “They went to Vermont for a week.”

 

I could feel my heart pounding in my head.  Alan?  The same Alan from two weeks ago.  That meant that this was getting serious.  Or at least more serious than most of Justin’s relationships.  And I think that’s when I realized that I couldn’t let him go.  I could deal with his stabs at real romance, relationships, all that other shit.  Because I figured that eventually he’d figure out that it was all bullshit.  But the idea of him falling for somebody else, giving himself to somebody else, belonging to somebody else…THAT I was not prepared for. 

 

 

I finally saw him a week later at Babylon.  He was dancing with some hot guy who I assumed was Alan.  When the guy left the dance floor to either get a drink or go to the bathroom, I moved through the crowd toward Justin.  He was surprised to see me, but quickly covered it up.  He did get pretty good at covering up his feelings. 

 

“How was your trip?” I asked.

 

He chuckled.  “As if you give a shit.”

 

“I asked, didn’t I?”

 

He stopped dancing and stared at me, studying my face.  “What do you want, Brian?”  Like I said, he knows me too well. 

 

“You ran off with your beau before you could get your answer.”

 

His eyes widened and I could tell he was fighting to retain the look of indifference on his face.  “What…what are you talking?”  We both knew what I was talking about, but he asked anyway.  I would have, too. 

 

“You asked me a question.”

 

“I…I did.”

 

“Don’t you want to know what the answer is?”

 

“Yes, but…”

 

And just then Justin’s boyfriend had returned with two drinks in his hands.  I have to say, Alan had impeccably bad timing.  And I had a nice case of chickening out.

 

“Well, you boys have fun,” I gave them a fake smile and quickly made my way out of the club.  I sat in the Jeep for what seemed like forever, expecting Justin to run after me, like he usually would have.  Well, at least he would have once upon a time.  I was about to tell him everything he had ever dreamed off hearing from me.  But he didn’t follow me.  He didn’t run out of Babylon and jump into my arms, forgetting about Alan or whoever that guy was.  Instead, I drove home alone, got drunk, woke up the next morning, got dressed, and went to work. 

 

I had a shitty day the next day and couldn’t wait for the day to be over.  I rushed home after getting out of a late meeting.  My only plan of action was to take a quick shower and head to the baths: the best medicine for erasing a day from hell.  But once again a certain blonde twink turned my plans and my life upside down.  He was standing in front of the building waiting for me. 

 

“What are you doing here?”  I asked without looking at him, while punching in the code to open the door.

 

“Selling oranges.”

 

I didn’t find that particularly funny and I’m sure the look I gave him told him as much. 

 

“Duh!  Waiting for you,” he amended.

 

I opened the door and walked through it, Justin following me.  “What for?”

 

I opted not to wait for the elevator and started to climb the stairs instead.  But I was stopped by Justin’s hand.  I sighed and turned around.

 

“You were telling me something last night,” he said.

 

I shrugged.  “I was?  Fuck, I must have been really out of it.”

 

I have a knack for saying the wrong thing at the worst time.  I could see the hope die in his eyes.  He let go of my hand and took a step back.

 

“So, you didn’t…”

 

“Didn’t what?” I cut him off.  “Want to announce my undying love for you in the middle of Babylon?”

 

He looked like I punched him, but I was the one who felt the sharp pain shoot through my body when he put his hand on the doorknob, opening the door to leave.  That’s when I said, ‘fuck it’.  I couldn’t watch him leave me again.  I couldn’t LET him leave me again.  I moved to the door, pushing it shut, pressing him against it.  He turned around and my lips immediately covered his.  We pulled apart only when air became an issue. 

 

I took his hand and we walked up the stairs, together.  When we reached the top floor, I opened the door and let him through it.  Then followed him in, shutting the door behind us.  He walked in the living room and turned around, looking at me expectantly.

 

“I just need to know,” he said.

 

“What?” I asked, taking my suit jacket off. 

 

“If it means something or not.  I just need to know.  It’s fine if it doesn’t.  But I want to know ahead of time before…”

 

I took quick steps toward him and kissed him again, slowly and tenderly this time.  “It means something,” I said when I pulled away.  It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say, but I knew it was the best thing to ever come out of my mouth, because he smiled at me.  That patented Sunshine smile that can blind you if you look directly at it. 

 

I kissed him again before pulling apart.  I knew we had to make a few things clear before going any further.  “Justin, I want…I do…what you said before…I do want to give you what you want.  I do.”

 

“But?”

 

“But…”  

 

He frowned. 

 

“I don’t know how or if I am even capable of…”

 

He smiled again.  “It’s ok,” he took a step toward me.  “As long as you want to give it a try…”

 

“I do.”

 

And that was it.  Those two words erased the last two years worth of angst and drama and pain.  The weirdest part was that those were the easiest words I ever had to say.  Strange how the most important things in your life turn out to be the easiest, no brainers. 

 

Later that night Justin asked me what I wanted.  I don’t think anybody had ever asked me that question before, including myself.  I never thought about it.  I knew what I didn’t want and most of that turned out to be a lie.  I just wanted Justin in my bed before I went to sleep at night and in the morning when I woke up.  That was all I knew then.  That’s all I know now.  Beyond that I’m just winging it, taking it one day at a time. 

 

Do I fuck up?  Constantly.  Do I want out of this?  As much as most people want out of their commitments.  Am I giving up?  Fuck no. 

 

I look around the room now at our family and friends trying to figure out why I’m here waiting for Justin.  How can I explain to them what it feels like to know that Justin loves me?  He needs me and wants me and the feeling that comes from knowing that is intoxicating.  It’s like a drug with continuous effects and no hangovers, unless you count the headaches from Justin talking my ears off. 

 

“You have some time.  Why don’t you eat something?”  Deb is already up, slapping massive amounts of pasta on the plate. 

 

“I’m not hungry,” I pull up a chair next to Justin and sit down as he smiles at me.  I lean in to kiss him, but have to force myself to only give him a peck.  His mother’s sitting across the table and I don’t think she’d appreciate an NC-17 rated preview of her son’s vacation. 

 

“You should eat something.  I don’t think you’ll wanna eat plane food,” he says, immediately digging into what I assume is his second or maybe third serving.  He’s right, though.  There’s no chance in hell am I eating the shit they call food on the plane.  So, I stuff myself with enough food to last me a few hours.  We’ll pick up a few sandwiches on our way to the airport as well. 

 

“You ready?”  I ask Justin when I finish eating.  It’s time to go.  I want to get to the airport early.  Since we’re flying coach, we’re going to have to stand in a huge line.  Next time I’m going to be the one making the reservations, no matter what he says. 

 

“Yep,” he replies while chewing the last of his food.

 

“We should get going.  The cab’s still waiting,” I say, getting up, trying to ignore the looks.  Deb gets all sad.  Jennifer looks like she’s loosing her son forever.  And Emmett’s already fighting the waterworks.  Vic’s the only one who seems like he’s not going to a funeral. 

 

I let Debbie kiss me while watching the cabbie trying to stuff Justin’s suitcase on top of mine in the trunk of the car.  Justin hugs Emmett, Vic, and Jennifer, then gets a big sloppy kiss from Debbie.  Finally, we get in the car and pull away from the house of grief. 

 

“They’re acting like they’re never going to see you again,” I tell Justin when the house disappears from our view.

 

“They’re just going to miss us, that’s all,” he replies, moving in closer to me.  I haven’t seen him since this morning, so I take advantage of his closeness and find his mouth immediately with mine.  “I mean, what are they going to talk about for two whole weeks with us gone?”  He snickers.  We often make fun at how involved in our love lives everybody else is. 

 

“They’ve got Ted and Emmett to entertain them.”  We both chuckle.  Any time I see those two together I can’t decide whether I want to poke my eyes out or theirs. 

 

I decide that this is as good as time as any to give him the shirt I bought earlier today, so I pull the box out of my carry-on bag.  “Here.”

 

He looks at me confused as he takes the box from me.  “Brian, you already gave me a present.”

 

“First of all, that was not a present.  I just liked the shirt, so I bought it.”  I’ve explained it a million times to him.  I thought that giving him the shirt three weeks before Christmas would prove that to him.  “Second of all, this isn’t from me.”

 

“It’s not,” he smirks.  He thinks he knows everything.

 

“It’s from Gus.”

 

“Gus.”

 

“You don’t believe me?  He saw the shirt and insisted I buy it.”  Well, at least my kid inherited MY fashion sense.

 

Justin, of course, just laughs, as he opens the box and pulls out the shirt.  Gus was right, the shirt is definitely right for Justin.

 

“I guess I’ll just have to thank HIM for that later,” he gives me the look I know oh so well.

 

“Well, I did pay for it, so…”

 

And the twat bursts out laughing. 

 

 

 

When we get to the airport the line isn’t that long, so we get processed pretty quickly.  And thankfully, there’s no delay.  We get into our seats without any problems as well.  And since we’re flying American, coach is not as bad as I thought it was going to be.  There’s more room than usual, which with my long legs is a must. 

 

The flight attendant announces our take off and I look over at Justin, who’s staring out the window, excitedly.  He looks so much younger when he’s like that.  Like the seventeen-year old twink I picked up that night outside Babylon. 

 

“What?” he asks when once again he catches me staring at him.  It’s been happening a lot lately.  I should stop it, but I can’t help it.  He’s changing every day, but at the same time, he’s still the same boy I deflowered that one warm night so long ago. 

 

“Nothing,” I give him my usual response.  But he smiles at me and takes my hand as the plane begins to move.

 

 

We’re a couple of hours into our flight.  I’m reading a new issue of GQ while Justin’s playing his Game Boy.  Or that’s what I thought.  Because, all of a sudden I feel his hand on my crotch.  I jump, surprised and startled.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper.

 

The little twat just grins at me.  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

 

“It looks like you’re trying to get us in trouble before we even get to the Bahamas.  So, quit it.”  I slap his hand away. 

 

“But Brian,” he whines.  I know that whine so well.  He always uses it whenever he doesn’t get something his way.  It’s the same one Gus uses.  I’m still trying to figure out whether Justin taught Gus or vice versa.  In any case, he’s not getting THIS right NOW.  No fucking way. 

 

“The mile high club is highly overrated.  Trust me on that.”

 

“You’ve done it.  I want to as well,” he pouts. 

 

“Justin,” I warn him, but he just ignores it and keeps on pouting.

 

“Please?  It won’t take long.”

 

I sigh exasperated.  “You do realize that that’s how George died, don’t you?” 

 

“Yes, but George was like a hundred years old.” 

 

I have to roll my eyes at him.  At least he didn’t make a crack at my age this time. 

 

“Have you ever been in a plane bathroom?  It’s too fucking claustrophobic.  Besides, I still have an image of George and Emmett in one of those.  It gives me the creeps.”  I shiver as I always do just thinking about that.  I so do NOT want that image in my head.  Especially right now, on the plane.

 

“All the more reasons to do it.  Substitute it with a good memory.”

 

He’s nothing if not persistent.

 

“You want us to get thrown out of the plane?”

 

The brat just snickers.  “I highly doubt that’s gonna happen.”

 

I sigh again.  “Twat.”

 

But he grins.  “Is that a yes?”

 

“No.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“No.”

 

I’m expecting another ‘Brian’, but it doesn’t come.  My relief is only temporary, though.  The next moment I feel his hand on my dick again, while his tongue slowly traces my jaw.  And of course, my dick goes in high alert status in a matter of milliseconds. 

 

Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!

 

I look at him and before I say anything at all he practically jumps out of his seat and heads to the bathroom.  I make sure that nobody’s watching and follow him a couple minutes later.

 

As soon as I get inside the image of George and Emmett floods my mind and I’m ready to bolt out of there, but Justin wraps his arms around me, and starts kissing my neck again.  It doesn’t take long before I pull down our pants, put a condom and lube on my dick and push inside of him.  To give him some credit, Justin doesn’t make a peep.  He holds on to the wall, and I put my hand over his, trying to hold myself up as well as I move in and out of his tight hole.  When we get into the rhythm, I put my right hand over his cock and he gasps.

 

“Shhhh,” I manage to say as I start pulling on it, slowly at first, then picking up the rhythm.

 

He’s breathing hard, but doesn’t make another sound, even as he nears climax.  And I try to get us there as quickly as possible.  His head drops back and I feel his body quiver and I let go as well. 

 

I start to pull out of him, but he reaches out and wraps his arms around my back, holding me in place.  I know this gesture so well.  So, I stay inside of him a little while longer, pressing against him, our sweat soaking both of our shirts.  I kiss his earlobe and neck as I wrap my arms around him. 

 

“I do,” I whisper.

 

 

The End.

 

Happy Hollidays!

 

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