The Next Time We Touch

Lyrics and Title from Pearl Jam’s Oceans

Hold on to the thread
The currents will shift
Glide me towards...
You know something's left
And we're all allowed
To dream of the next
Oh, ohh the next time we touch...

You don't have to stray
The oceans away
Waves roll in my thoughts
Hold tight the ring...
The sea will rise...
Please stand by the shore...
Oh, oh, oh, I will be...
I will be there once more...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BRIAN:

“You’re home,” Justin beams his smile at me.

“Sorry it took so long.”

“That’s ok.”

“Got some take out,” I put the bag with the food down on the counter.

“Thai?” he asks, coming closer.

“Italian,” I snake my arms around his waist.  “Got your favorite.”

He smiles at me again, “I guess I’m gonna have to thank you, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I smirk, then say softly, “I missed you.”

“You were only gone a few hours.”

“Felt like months.”

He licks his lips, “How about I thank you first and we eat later?” he whispers.

“You read my mind.” 

We struggle to remove our clothing as we make our way into the bedroom.  I push him down on the bed, pulling his pants off.  Then I hurry up and remove the rest of my own clothes and get on top of him.  I place a soft kiss on his lips, then move down kissing his neck, collar bone and his chest.  God, he feels so good beneath me. 

“I…need…you…NOW!”  Justin pants.

I reach for the condom and lube, moving fast, wanting to give him what he needs.  I make sure he’s ready for me and slowly start to slip inside of him. 

And then…he’s GONE.  Justin is gone.  Again.

~~~

I wake up with a start, gasping for air.  I’ve been having the same dream every night since he left.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and get out of bed.  I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight, so I put on my robe and stroll over to the kitchen and get the bottle of Jim Beam, not even bothering with the glass.  I carry the bottle to the couch, take a chug of JB and turn on the TV.

~~~

I stare at the computer screen nervously, curling my palms into fists to stop my hands from shaking.  That’s the routine.  Every Tuesday morning.  When I bite my lips to keep from screaming and pace around the office to keep from going completely insane.  I look down at the clock.  9:47am.  Thirteen more minutes until the call. 

Cynthia knocks and walks in before I can say anything. 

“Vance wants to see you,” she says.

I lean back in my chair and let out a sigh, then look at the clock again.  9:48.  “Set up a meeting with him at 11.”

“But Brian…”

“Cynthia, tell him I’ll see him in an hour.”  The tone of my voice doesn’t leave any room for argument, but she still pushes. 

“He said he wanted to see you right away.”

“Fuck him.  Tell him I have an important conference call that couldn’t be rescheduled.”

She rolls her eyes at me and heads for the door.

“And Cynthia?”

She turns around and looks at me, annoyed.  I must admit, I have been driving her crazy lately.  “I’ve told you before.  Tuesdays at ten I’m NOT available.  For ANYBODY.  Got it?”

“Yes,” she says, “I’ll let you know when Mr. Wolf calls.”

I nod and look away. 

It’s 10:03 when she buzzes in letting me know that Patrick is on line one.  I pick up right away.

“You’re three minutes late,” I say.

“Sorry.  I was driving and needed to park first.”

“Whatever.  Any news?”  I take a deep breath in and hold it. 

“Not much.  It feels like we hit a wall, Brian,” he says.  “I don’t know how much more I can find out.  Maybe…” he hesitates.  “Maybe it’s time to stop.” 

It’s not the first time he’s told me that.  And I should probably appreciate his honesty.  That he’s not just pretending to do his job and take my money.  But it only makes me angry.  “Don’t you fucking dare!  You hear me?!  You do whatever you have to do, but you find him.  You fucking find him!”

“I’m sorry, Brian.”

Even in my agitated state I can tell that he’s sincere, but it doesn’t help.  Nothing does anymore.  “I don’t need you to say you’re sorry.  I need you to continue to do your job.  That’s why I hired you.  Now go do your fucking job!”

He sighs.  “Ok.  I’ll keep you posted if anything comes up.”

I exhale loudly, now feeling shitty about yelling at him, “You do that.”

“Ok.  Talk to you next Tuesday.”

I slam the phone down.  Fuck.  It’s been over two months without any news at all, even bogus ones.  I hired Patrick a week after Justin left.  And at first he constantly had information…reports of somebody seeing a guy with Justin’s description somewhere.  We followed every lead.  But they always turned out to be false.  Every time I came home from one of those leads I felt shattered, broken into little pieces.  I didn’t think I’d be able to do it again and again and again.  But each time he called I couldn’t not go.   

After work I go to the diner to get some food.  I’ve been doing that a lot lately.  Going to the diner.  Alone.  No boys.  Usually on the days when Deb’s working.  It’s weird.  I used to try to avoid being alone with her at all costs.  I never saw the need for a second ass hole I was sure to get any time she saw me. 

I choose a booth in the corner and open up a menu.  Before I used to just order food and take it home, but right now I don’t feel like being alone in the empty loft.  Weird how things change on you all of a sudden.  How a loft that was once quite and private now seems lonely and isolated.  How the people in your life that you think are just placed on this Earth to make your life miserable end up being your lifelines.  Except, it’s not them that have changed.  The things and people around me are the same.  The loft is the same as it has been for the last eight years.  I’m the one who’s different. 

“Hi, sweetie,” Deb chirps next to me.  She’s been using all sorts of endearments for me lately.  Sweetie, honey, sweetheart.  At first I thought it was because she couldn’t direct them at Justin, so I was some sort of a consolation prize for a mother’s heart.  But now I realize that she wanted to call me those names…no, not the ones we’re both so used to…all my life.  I finally just stopped resisting it. 

I look up and try to give her a smile.  I should really work on that, because she frowns at me.  “Hamburger and fries,” I say, putting the menu down. 

She gives me this huge grin, “Ok, baby.  And lemon bar.”

Before I can object she stalks off to the kitchen to place my order.  I take my jacket off and pick up a newspaper somebody left on the table.

~~~

It’s almost nine when I get home.  I change quickly, grab a bottle of beer, and move over to the desk.  Have some work to do.  I’m going over some slides when I hear a knock on the door.  It’s Mikey.  Who else would it be?  I let him in and slide the door shut. 

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Nothing’s going on.  Why would something be going on?  Can’t I just visit my best friend who I haven’t seen in almost a week without something going on?” he rants.

I’m pretty sure that he inherited the guilt trip shit from Debbie.  “You’ve seen me.  I was at Babylon last night,” I say to him.

“For like two seconds.  And then it’s off to the backroom.”  He’s really into the whining mode right now. 

I just sort of shrug and look at him.

“Well, we’re going to Woody’s.  Why don’t you come with?” he asks.

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m working,” I raise the hand with slides in it as my evidence.

“Come on, just for a little while.  It will be good for you.”

“Mikey.”

“Come on, we’ll shoot some pool, have a few drinks.”

“I said ‘no’.”  Now he’s starting to really piss me off.  In seventeen years of friendship he still hasn’t learned when to back off. 

“Don’t you think the mourning period is over?”

I didn’t even see that one coming.  I feel like he just sucker-punched me.  “What?”

“Come on, Brian…”

“What the fuck did you just say?”  I’m barely keeping my anger in check.

It’s obvious that he’s sorry that he said it, but he decides to push even more, “It’s been five months, Brian.  FIVE months.  It’s time to move on.”

I can’t believe he’s saying all this shit to me.  “Move on?  Move the fuck on?!  Like the rest of you?!  Pretend that he never even existed?! Is that what you want me to do?!”  I shout at him.  They don’t even talk about him anymore.  They don’t even mention his name.  As if he was a figment of their imagination.  A part of some dream.  And now that dream is gone.  And so is he. 

“No!” he shouts back at me.  “I didn’t say that.  I just…”

“You just WHAT?!”

“I’m worried about you, that’s all.  You’re spending all that money on the private investigator.”

“It’s my money, Michael.  I can do whatever the hell I please with it,” I growl at him.  “And at least I’m doing something.”

“Yeah, moping around.  That’s what you’re doing.”

All I want is for this fucking conversation to be over.  “Michael.”  I’m warning him to back off.  Don’t want to say anything I’ll regret later. 

He’s about to say something else when my phone rings.  I don’t even look at the caller id, happy for the distraction.

“Yeah,” I answer it.

“Brian, it’s Patrick.”

I feel the knot in my stomach tighten.  I just talked to him earlier today.  He wouldn’t be calling me unless…unless there was news.  And from the sound of his voice…it’s not good.  “What is it?” I hear myself ask him.

He sighs.  “I think I found him.”

My stomach sinks and I have this huge lump in my throat.  I can barely speak.  “Where…where is he?”

I hear him sigh again.  He’s silent. 

“Patrick!” 

My heart is ready to burst out of my chest.

“County General morgue.”

I wonder why I’m still standing.  How can I be still standing here?  Shouldn’t I be dead?  Because this pain is so unbearable, no living being can possibly live with that kind of pain.  The whole world is crumbling around me.  But I’m still standing.

I hear his voice calling my name.  I guess I haven’t said anything for a while.  Michael takes a step closer.  I wonder what he sees on my face right now.

“Brian, are you there?” I hear Patrick ask again.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I finally say before hanging up.

We drive across town, Michael and I.  I told him he didn’t have to come with me, but he insisted.  And I was in no condition to argue with him.  We ride in silence.  I don’t think I have any words left to say.  And he doesn’t know what to say.  He just glances at me from time to time. 

I see Patrick at the entrance as I pull into the parking lot of the hospital.  When I walk up to him he doesn’t say anything.  He knows there’s nothing to say.  I have a feeling he’s done this before.  Wait for someone to come identify a loved one in a morgue.  Now I’m the one he’s waiting for. 

Somehow I make myself move.  Take step after step.  That’s how it was after Justin left.  I had to remind myself to take a breath, to take a bite, to take a piss.  Now I have to remind myself to take a step.  Then another.  Then another. 

We get to a door that has a “Morgue” sign on it.  It’s a good thing I’m already feeling like my insides are on fire while being ripped out of me because by now it can’t get any worse.  I tell Michael to wait here.  He tries to object but I just leave.  He stays behind and I follow Patrick.  He pushes another door open for me and we walk in.  There are gurneys and something that looks like huge fridges that they show in movies.  I try to push any thought out of my mind.  I just stand next to Patrick as some guy in a white coat opens one of the little doors and pulls out a body covered with a white sheet.  I remind myself to take a breath.  I forget to exhale though.  Just stand there.  Staring at the white sheet in front of me.  The guy looks at me, asking me if I’m ready.  I can’t say anything.  Can’t even move.  I guess Patrick says something because the next thing I know the guy slowly pulls the sheet off and I can see the face.  I stare at it.  His face.  I finally exhale.  And then I breathe in.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  I can’t catch my breath.  I take a step back and lean on an empty gurney, trying to steady myself, feeling dizzy. 

I feel somebody’s hands on my shoulders.  I look up.  It’s Patrick.  “Brian, are you ok?”  What a fucking stupid thing to ask. 

I don’t reply.  I stare back at the body in front of me.  Take another breath in.  “It’s not him,” I finally say.

“What?”

I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to keep the sobs inside.  That kid looks so much like Justin, it’s scary.  Blonde hair, similar features.  If you didn’t know Justin, if you only saw him in pictures you would have sworn that it was him.  I finally look away from the body and at Patrick.  “It’s not him,” I say again.  And then I bolt.  I run out the door and through the hallway.  I hear Michael running after me, but I don’t stop for him until I reach the Jeep.  He gets in.  Asks me if I’m ok.  I don’t answer.  Just drop him off at his place and head home. 

~~~

As soon as I close the door behind me and set the alarm I head straight for the kitchen and Jim Beam.  Once again I don’t bother with a glass.  I just take a huge chug out of it.  Then another.  It’s not working.  I need something fast.  I start going through my stash, wanting to get the image of that guy in the morgue out of my head.  And then it’s not that guy that I see lying on that table anymore.  It’s Justin.  And I feel sick.  I barely make it to the bathroom before emptying the contents of my stomach.

When the heaves are gone I lean back against the wall, my head in my hands.  I close my eyes, but all I can see is Justin’s face.  I feel something warm running down my face.  I wipe it away.  I’ve gone this long without crying.  I don’t need to start now.  But the pain inside is too much.  What if it was him?  What if he is lying somewhere else, on some other table, in some other fucking morgue?  And I’m not there to find him.  And to bring him home? 

I feel my whole body shaking.  I will myself to stop, but I can’t.  The tears are coming.  I hear this eerie wailing sound.  It doesn’t even sound human.  It can’t be me.  It doesn’t sound like me.  It sounds like a person who’s dying inside.  But…it is me.  There’s nobody else.  I’m alone.  And so I weep. 

~~~~~~~~~

Three Months Later 

 

JUSTIN: 

I have the cab drop me off a couple of blocks away from the townhouse. Just in case mom’s outside. I want a chance to see her first before she sees me. To be honest, I need some time to work up the courage. I left the suitcase in a locker at the airport, so I only have a small duffel bag. With every step I fight the urge to turn around and get on a bus and head back to the airport. But somehow I am now standing in front of my mother’s door. I know she’s home. Her Taurus is parked in the driveway.  

I just stand there, not able to ring the doorbell. What am I waiting for? I don’t know. To be magically transported to some other place? Far away from here?  Or some other time? I have no idea.  

Finally I raise my hand and press the doorbell. My heart is pounding like crazy, but I don’t move. I think only a minute passes but feels like forever when the door opens and I look into my mother’s eyes. She stares at me, trying to figure out whether I’m just a figment of her imagination. Or whether I’m real. Her eyes widen. I guess she decided that I am real because her eyes fill with tears. 

“Justin!”  

She has her hands around me, hugging me as close as she possibly can.  I don’t say anything. Just let her hold me. It feels so good to be in my mother’s arms again. I feel like I’m five years old again and there’s a huge storm outside. I was so scared then. I remember running into my parents’ bedroom, screaming. And mom just pulled me in and gave me this huge hug. She just held me. And despite the raging storm outside, I felt safe. That’s how I feel now. Safe. I haven’t felt that way in a while. A long while.

We finally make it inside. Mom decides that I need to eat. I think she’s been around Deb for too long. Or maybe it’s just a mother thing. No matter what, feed your child first. I don’t argue. I can’t even open my mouth to say two words. She fusses around the kitchen, all the while keeping an eye on me. As if she looks away for just a second I’ll disappear again. I want to say…I’m back, mom. But I can’t. So, I just sit at the kitchen table and watch my mother make me a sandwich. “So, where…where have you been all this time?” she asks as she puts down the plate with the sandwich in front of me and then sits down across the table from me. 

My mouth suddenly goes dry. “Can I…can I have some water, please?” I finally say. Of all the things I can say to her THESE are the first words that come out of my mouth. 

“Oh, sure, honey,” she jumps up and retrieves a bottle of Evian out of the fridge. Then returns to her seat. 

“Thanks.” I take a couple of gulps, then put the bottle down. I look anywhere but her, but I know that she’s waiting for the answer. I finally make myself look back at her. “I…uh…just…” Oh, just say it, you coward. “I was in Chicago.”  

“Chicago? What’s in Chicago?” 

“Nothing.” That was the point.  

“What were you doing all this time there? How did you live?”  

I take a bite out of the sandwich. I’m definitely not hungry now, but the more I chew, the less I have to talk. “I worked.” 

“Where?” 

“I had an internship. At a publishing company.”  

“Oh.” She leans back in the chair. I think she’s a little calmer now that she knows I wasn’t hustling myself on the streets of the Windy city. 

I put my sandwich down. If I eat another bite I’m sure I’ll have a session with the toilet later on. Instead I take sip of water. 

“Where…where’s Molly?” I ask. 

Her face lights up a bit. “On the playground. Come on,” she stands up, “Let’s go get her.” 

“Oh, no, it’s fine. She’s probably with her friends.” 

“Nonsense. Honey, she’ll be thrilled to see you. She misses you a lot.” 

She nudges me out the door at toward a small playground around the corner. I see my sister with a couple of other girls on the swings. They’re all laughing about something. I stop. I don’t want to get any closer. She looks happy right now. And I don’t want to ruin it for her. But mom calls her name anyway. They all turn around and look at us. Molly just stares, obviously unhappy to have her mother interrupt her playtime, but then she sees me. She jumps of the swing and sprints toward me. The next thing I know she’s in my arms. I look up at mom and she’s smiling.  

~~~

It’s after seven and mom and I are standing in front of Deb’s house.  I would have preferred to wait before seeing anybody else, but mom insisted.  She didn’t tell Deb what was going on.  She just told her she’d stop by.  So here we are.  Mom’s looking at me as if asking me if I’m ok.  Of course I’m not, mom.  I’m not ready to get my ass chewed off.  Not yet anyway.  I’m having the same feelings I had earlier today when I stood in front of my mom’s townhouse.  I want to turn around and run like hell.  But it’s too late now because mom rings the doorbell and the next thing I know I see a familiar red wig pop through the door. 

Debbie smiles at mom, not noticing me at first. 

“I have a surprise for you,” mom says as she pulls me into Debbie’s line of sight.

Her eyes widen and she gasps.  “Sunshine!”  The next thing I know I’m in her arms.  And it’s weird because it feels just like mom hugging me.  And I realize, it is my mom hugging me.  My second mom. 

When I finally feel like I’m going to pass out if from the lack of air supply I pull away.  She hurries us both inside.

“Vic!  Come down!  Now!” she yells. 

And now I’m getting nervous again.  I hear Vic come down the stairs. 

“What?  What’s all the yelling…” his voice trails off when he sees me.  He stops dead in his tracks and just stares.

And I look everywhere but him.  Can’t look at him.  Can’t look him in the eye. 

“Hi…” I clear my throat, “Hi, Vic,” I practically whisper.

He comes over to me and gives me a hug, then goes over and sits on the couch.  Without a word. 

A couple of hours later we’re sitting at the table finishing up dinner.  It was up to mom and Debbie to keep up the conversation.  Vic and I just sort of nodded our heads if we were asked a question.  Vic kept staring at me.  I could feel his eyes on me, but I just couldn’t look up, so I spent most of the dinner looking down at my plate.

Debbie is asking me if I want some pie when the door opens.  I turn around and…

I see the one person I wanted to see more than anyone and the one person I dreaded seeing more than anything.  I had the cab drive by his building three times today before I told him to turn around and head to my mom’s.

Brian.

Brian is here.  Now.

It feels like the whole world went away.  And it’s just the two of us.  Staring at each other.  Not sure if the other one is real.  Afraid to move.  Afraid to say a word.  Afraid to breathe.

He hasn’t changed at all.  Just as thin, and tall, and sexy, and incredibly beautiful as the picture of him in my mind.  I have so many drawings of him.  Every line, every expression his face can make permanently imbedded on paper and in my mind.  He’s wearing a grey sweater and blue jeans.  Brian always looks good, but when he’s actually not trying to impress anybody, or at least, not as much as he usually does, and just wears something comfortable and simple…that’s what I love even more.   He seems more like the real Brian, not some sex-God legend he is on Liberty Avenue.

What catches me off guard, though, is the look on his face right now.  It’s the same one he had the night I came looking for him after getting out of the hospital.  Like he’d seen a ghost.  I guess in a way he has.  

I don’t know how long we stay like this but the next thing I know I have Michael’s arms around me. 

“Welcome back,” he says.

I mumble thanks to him, but I’m still staring at Brian.  He looks away and then…bolts, slamming the door behind him.  And I feel like he slammed his fist across my face instead.  Not that I can blame him.  I can’t blame him for reacting this way. 

I sit back down in the chair.  Everybody else is staring at me.  I’m trying to figure out what their looks mean, even my mom’s.  I wish somebody would say something.  And at the same time I wish they wouldn’t.

“Well, we should get going,” mom finally says.  And I want to scream, “Thank you so much.”

Deb hugs me again.  Michael even smiles at me.  And Vic just sort of nods his head.  And then we leave.

~~~

It feels strange waking up in my mother’s house once again after all this time.  I go downstairs and Molly’s already gone out with her friends.  Mom stuffs me with breakfast, of course.  I decide that I want to go out for a little while and to my surprise mom hands me the keys to her car.  I’m not about to object.  So I get dressed and head out, not really sure of the destination.

Surprise, surprise.  I find myself on Liberty Avenue.  I park the car and get out, walking down the familiar street.  I find myself standing in front of the Liberty Diner.  What the hell am I doing here?  This is where everything happened.  Where everything went wrong. 

One part of me wants to walk away.  To run away again.  I haven’t seen the ghost of Robby, he hasn’t haunted me in a while.  And I’d like to leave it that way.  But the other part of me needs me to go in.  Needs me to face this fear once and for all.  So, I take a deep breath and open the door.

“Sunshine!” I’m in Debbie’s arms once again.  “What are you doing here?” she asks, finally letting me go.

“I…uh…just…you know.”

I focus on her face, afraid to look anywhere else.

“Well, sit, sit,” she pushes me into a seat at the counter.  “You hungry?”

“No, I had breakfast at mom’s.”

“Well, how about a lemon square then?” She has this look on her face that nobody in his right mind would even think of saying no to.  So I nod and she grins at me.

I make my gaze move over to THAT spot.  I can see Robby lying on the floor, blood pouring out of him and me crouched on the floor next to him.  But this time it’s not some vision, not some ghost that’s there.  It’s just a memory now.  And THAT I can deal with.  I think.

Debbie comes back with lemon square and a glass of Coke.  She pats my hair and smiles at me while I take a bite out of the lemon square.

“Deb.”

“What, honey?”

“How is…”  God, what a coward.  Afraid to even say his name now.

“Brian?”  

I nod.

“What do you want me to say?  Do you want me to lie to you and say that everything’s alright?”

I shake my head no.

She leans on the counter so close to me I can feel her breath on my face.

“He looked for you.”

My head snaps up and I look at her.

“I mean, really looked.  Hired a private investigator and everything.  After a few months everybody was pretty much telling him that he was crazy, but he still wouldn’t give up.”

I look down at the stupid lemon square.  I don’t think I could feel any guiltier than I do right now.

“He thought you were dead.”

“What?” I look up at her again.  She didn’t just say that, did she?

But she just nods, “He even had to go to the morgue to identify your body.”

Any coherent thought just left my mind.  Brian.  Morgue.  Thought I was dead. 

“But I’m not…I mean…”

“Oh, I know, honey,” she tries to smile at me, but fails miserably.  “Three months and I know he still hasn’t gotten over it yet.”

How do you get over something like that, I want to ask her.  But I can’t.  I can’t utter a word.  Because I put him through this.  I DID that.

The only thing I can do is get up.  “Deb, I have to…I just…I gotta go…” 

As I run out the door I hear her calling my name. 

~~~

Once again I’m standing in front of Brian’s building.  Only this time I actually make myself get out of the car and walk over to the door.  I still have the keys to the loft, but this isn’t my home anymore.  I don’t have the right to just barge in on Brian’s life.  I stare at the buzzer.  Just stop being a fucking coward and press it, Justin. 

I exhale all the air out of my lungs and press the button.  There’s no answer for a while and I start wondering if maybe Brian isn’t home.  But his Jeep is parked out front.  Maybe he’s asleep.  Or fucking somebody.  I know I have no right to get upset at that thought.  Especially since I hear his voice in the intercom.

“Who is it?”

My mouth suddenly goes dry and I can’t utter a single word.

“Who the fuck is this?” he asks again.

“It’s…it’s Justin,” I finally say.

I’m not sure if it’s because I’m holding my breath or because my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, but it feels like forever before I hear the door unlock.  I’m surprised actually that he’s letting me in.  A big part of me was certain that he’d tell me to go fuck myself.  A big part of me was hoping he would so that I wouldn’t have to be walking up the stairs like I am right now, trying to figure out what to say to him.

I finally get to the top floor.  The door to the loft is open.  I walk in and look around.  Everything looks just like it did when I left.  Even my computer is in the same spot.  Brian didn’t move anything.  Everywhere I look is full of memories. 

“Shut the door.”

He startles me.  I look in the direction his voice is coming from.  He’s in the kitchen.  I slide the door shut, then go back to the same spot I occupied earlier and look at him.  He’s wearing his blue jeans and a white wife beater.  His hair is disheveled and he needs a shave, but he still looks better than anybody I’ve ever met.  I can’t take my eyes off of him.

“You want a beer?”

I shake my head no.  I want to say, ‘Isn’t it a little early for that.’  But I don’t dare.

“How…how are you?” I finally ask him.  He’s standing at the counter playing with the cap from the beer bottle in his hand.  He gives me that look that says, ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’  He’s right.  Out of all the things in the world that I can say to him, SHOULD say to him, this is the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

He takes a sip, then puts the bottle down without looking at me.  And I just stand there, waiting for him to make the first move.

He finally slams the bottle cap on the counter.  “Where the fuck have you been all this time?”  And he finally looks at me.

I swallow hard, “I…Chicago.”

“Chicago?”

“Well…Philadelphia for about a month…and then…Chicago.”

“What the fuck’s in Chicago?”  That’s a thousand-dollars question. 

“A friend…he helped me get a job there.”  I regret saying it the moment it comes out.  I know that he’s going to read into the whole ‘friend’ thing completely wrong.

“A friend?”  And of course, he does.

I sigh.  “Yes.  Just a good friend.”  I stress the friend part of it.

He scoffs.  “Great, so while you’re out there somewhere fucking around with your FRIEND, did it even fucking occur to you to maybe pick the phone and call your mommy to tell her that you were alright?  Or Deb?  Or Daphne?  Or ME?!”

Yes.  It did.  Every fucking minute of every fucking hour of every fucking day, more than anything I wanted to call him.  Wanted to get on the plane and fly back, but I couldn’t.  That’s what I want to tell him, more than anything.  “Brian,” I say quietly instead.

“Brian what?!” he shouts back.

“I understand that you’re angry.”  I do.  I wouldn’t understand if he wasn’t.  What I did.  The way I just left without even saying good-bye.  I’m surprised he even let me up.

He shakes his head.  “I’m not angry.”  But I can see him clenching his jaw and gripping the back of the barstool.  “I’m fucking PISSED OFF!” he yells and shoves the barstool across the room.

I flinch at the loud sound, but don’t move.  I don’t even breathe.  Because this is what I deserve.  This and worse.  A lot worse.  Exactly what he’s doing right now.  Staring at me with hatred in his eyes.  And pain. So much pain.  That I caused.  He turns around and just goes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.   And this is so much worse than him shouting and yelling and throwing chairs around. 

I don’t have anything left to do but leave.  This isn’t my home anymore.  It’s Brian’s.  And I KNOW he doesn’t want me here now.

~~~~~~~~

BRIAN:

Goddamnmothefuckersonofabitch!!!!!!!!!! 

Everything comes crashing down on the floor as I swipe everything off the sink counter.  I want to trash everything and everyone right now.  Son of a bitch. 

Seeing him at Deb’s just threw me.  The concern and worry and frustration and pain I’ve felt all these months turned into sheer anger.  I wanted to fucking kill him.  To fucking strangle him with my own bare hands.  For what he did.  For everything he’s put me through.  For even making me care in the first place.   

And for standing there looking so…FUCK!  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.  At first trying to figure out whether he was real, or if maybe I’ve completely gone off the deep end.  And then…my breath caught in my throat just looking at him like that.  His intensely blue eyes staring back into mine.

I wanted to fuck him…right there and then, on the fucking couch in front of his mother and Deb and Mikey and whoever else wanted to drop by for the fucking show.  I wanted to kiss him, to taste him again.  I wanted to…I wanted to hold him…just hold him.  To make sure that he’s real.  That he’s really here.  That he’s ok.  That he’s not lying on that fucking table in that fucking morgue.

I don’t know how much time passes when I finally come out of the bathroom, calm.  Or as calm as I could ever be in this situation.  But he’s gone.  The loft is empty.  Just then the phone rings and I reluctantly pick it up.  It’s better to hear somebody’s voice instead of listening to this deafening silence. 

It’s Debbie.  Inviting me to the dinner at her house tomorrow night to welcome Justin back.  I snicker.  She has got to be kidding.  After all that little shit has put all of us through she’s just going to have one big fucking party?  Well, they can celebrate all they want.  There’s no chance in hell I’m going.  Fuck that.  Now that I know he’s alive and well, I can finally return to my own life…such as it was.  Fucking and sucking.  What I do best.  Fuck parties.  Fuck family dinners.  And fuck him.  Yes.  FUCK.  HIM. 

~~~~~~~~~

JUSTIN:

I’m sitting on the hood of mom’s car smoking, just watching the students pass me by.  On their way to and from classes with their backpacks and books.  I should be one of them.  Rushing to class or worrying about a deadline on a project.  Instead I’m sitting here, smoking my third cigarette and waiting for Daphne.  Her roommate said that she has a class until 12:30.  So, she should be home soon. 

My heart beats faster when I spot her with some tall guy across the street.  I feel the panic rise up in me.  I don’t think I could handle a tirade from her as well.  And now I can’t wait to get out of here and I hope she doesn’t notice me.  I sit still, not making a move, afraid to even breathe.  But she still sees me.

She turns her head in my direction and just stares at me, trying to figure out if it’s me or not, I’m sure.  I mean, it HAS BEEN eight months.  But I know she recognizes me.  But she still doesn’t move and neither do I.  We’re just staring at each other.  I see her turn to the guy she’s with and say something to him, then she starts to slowly cross the street in my direction.

“Well, at least I know you’re not dead,” she says, bitterness in her voice, as she walks up to me. 

Ouch.  Well, I guess I won’t be getting any sympathy from her.  Great.  The one person I counted on to understand.  But how could she?  I left.  I just left. 

“When did you get back?”

“Yesterday,” I say quietly, now wishing for this to be over. 

She nods her head.  I look at her, but she won’t even look me in the eye.  She finds other things to focus on, like people passing by, a tree behind me, anything but me. 

“Have you seen everybody else yet?”

I shake my head.  “Just mom, and Debbie and Vic.”  I pause.  Then add.  “Brian.”

She just nods her head.  Still not looking at me.  “So, do I even wanna know where you were all this time?”

Now it’s my turn to look away, guiltily. 

“Doesn’t matter.  I’m sure, wherever you were, they just didn’t have phones, and you were stranded there for eight months.  Right?  So, there was no way for you to let me know that you were ok.  Right?  Justin?”

I sigh.  And we both know that she has every right to be angry.  And I can’t look up at her.  The guilt weighs heavily on my chest, my head, my…everything.  What I put all these people I care about through. 

I clear my throat and finally make myself look back up at her. 

“Look, I…I gotta go,” she says, pointing to the guy who’s patiently waiting for her across the street.

“Who’s he?” I ask.

She turns back to me and finally looks straight at me.  “He’s someone who’s been here for the past eight months.”

Again…Ouch.  I hang my head again.  Isn’t there a rule about kicking somebody while they’re down?  ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Daphne didn’t get the memo.

“I’ll see you around, Justin.”  And she can’t get away from me fast enough.  I watch her run up to the guy.  They exchange a few words and he shoots a glance in my direction.  Then puts an arm around her shoulders and the two of them go inside the dorm, leaving me to finish up the cigarette.

~~~

After the fiasco with Daphne I just start driving around town.  No direction in particular.  I know I should get back.  Mom probably thinks that I split again, now in her car.  But I just can’t make myself turn around and head to her place.  Instead I find myself in our old neighborhood.  I park the car across the street from our house.  Well, not ours anymore.  Belongs to some happy little family.  I watch them playing around in the front yard.  The woman’s planting flowers, a baby stroller right next to her, while the man is kicking a little soccer ball with the boy. 

I feel a lump in my throat.  For a moment I think that this is a flashback into my life.  When I was a little boy.  When I had a family.  When my father actually loved me.  When my life seemed simple.  WAS simple.  I wish I could get it back.  At least some of it.  The innocence.  I want it back.  To help me erase the events of the last few years.  The bashing, then Robby.  I want to forget it all.  I actually wished for another bat to my head after…after Robby.  I wanted to forget.  Just like I forgot the prom and the bashing.  I wanted to forget that day as well.  Then I could hope for at least somewhat normal existence.  But no such luck.  There were no more bats.  And the memories still remain.  The only difference now is that I can actually deal with them.  What I CAN’T deal with is everybody else in my life. 

~~~

A few hours later I finally make it back to mom’s townhouse.  She immediately tries to stuff me with food.  She had definitely been spending too much time around Debbie.  Which usually wouldn’t be a bad thing.  Except, I’m not hungry and I tell her so.  And that of course worries her even more.  Which I definitely understand.  I mean, come on, Justin Taylor NOT hungry?  That should be like another sign of apocalypse or something.  Which she probably thinks it is.  Because she follows me to my room.

“I’m just tired, mom,” I say, taking a seat in the chair by the window, and looking out.  I just want to be left alone right now, and I hope she gets the hint.  But she’s my mother, so of course she doesn’t.

“Are you sure?  At least have some soup, honey.”

I shake my head while looking at the big old tree in the playground outside my window.  I feel the familiar twinge inside me and I reach for the sketchbook and the first pencil I can get my hands on and turn back to the window, taking in how the shade changes the character of the tree.

“Justin?”

I look up at her, startled.  I completely forgot she was even there. 

“I spoke with Debbie today.”

“Hmm-mmm,” I turn my attention back to the tree.

“She invited us over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Ok,” I say, just wanting for her to go so that I can fully focus on my sketch and forget everything else for a while.

“She thought it’d be a good way for everyone to just get together.”

That catches my attention.  “What do you mean by ‘everyone’?”

“Well…” She looks away and I know EXACTLY who ‘everyone’ is.

Oh, no.  No way.  No chance in hell.  One day of being kicked in the guts is more than enough, thank you very much.  “Mom, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But honey, they all want to see you.  The phone kept ringing off the hook today.  Everybody wants to see you.”  She takes a few steps closer to me and all I want to do is jump out of that window and run. 

“Can’t we just, like, wait awhile?”  I’m whining at this point, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get her and Debbie off my back.

“Justin.”

“I just don’t…I just don’t think I can…”  I stumble over words.  She’s my mother.  Shouldn’t I be able to tell her how I feel?  “Please, I just need a few days to…”  To what?  To prepare myself for being ripped open by my friends?  Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if Brian and Daphne’s reactions were any indication. 

“Debbie already invited everybody.”

I sigh, putting the pencil down in defeat.  She walks over and pats my head.  “It won’t be that bad, honey.  You’ll see.  Ok?”

I just nod and when she finally leaves the room, I lean back in the chair and close my eyes.  Maybe it will be better to just get this over with.  Have them attack me all at once.  It will hurt a lot more, but it will just be once.  No dragging it out.  Yes.  Definitely.  That’s better.

I open my eyes and concentrate on the big tree in my window, pushing everything and everyone else out of my mind for the time being.

~~~

We’re the first ones to arrive at Deb’s the next night.  Mom insisted we leave at least half an hour earlier because it’s not polite to be late.  Especially since I’m the guest of honor.

When we get there mom heads straight for the kitchen to help Deb and Molly ditches me to go talk to her boyfriend on the phone upstairs.  Molly has a boyfriend.  When the hell did that happen?  It was only yesterday she was this annoying little creature that was set on making my life miserable.

So, she runs upstairs, leaving Vic and me sitting on the couch.  He’s watching some cooking show.  Actually, he’s pretending to be watching the show.  Just like he does when he’s trying to avoid one of Deb’s lectures.  Except it’s not Deb he’s trying to avoid this time.  It’s me.  Talking to me.  Looking at me.  And that hurts like hell.  But at the same time, I guess, it’s easier.  Because if he doesn’t look at me, I don’t have to see the anger and the hurt and the disappointment in his eyes.  Just like I saw in Deb’s, and mom’s, and Daphne’s eyes.  And Brian’s. 

It’s a little after seven when everybody shows up.  I think they all met up front before going in.  Everybody hugs me and kisses me, but the smiles aren’t genuine.  And I know that I’m not the only one feeling like I’d rather be somewhere else.  Anywhere else but here.

I take Gus into my arms and kiss him.  He’s changed so much.  He looks even more like Brian now.  I can’t wait to see him when he grows up.  He’s going to break lots of hearts, just like his father.  Gus starts fussing in my hands, but when I try to calm him down like I used to before, he starts crying and Melanie takes him from me.  Shit.  He doesn’t remember me.  Eight months is a long time for a little kid.  Of course, he forgot.

I get a feeling like the rest of the people at the table would have loved to forget me too.  I would love to forget me.

I look around the table, trying to focus on one of Emmett’s stories, but all I can think about is how tense and uncomfortable it is.  It was never like this.  Not even when I first became a part of this little family.  I never felt so out of place before.

Finally, we all take a little break while Debbie and mom clean up the table and set it up for desert.  Everybody else seems to be busy watching some show on VH1, so I use this moment to sneak out to the backyard for a cigarette.  I don’t know when I started smoking so much, considering all the time I used to bug Brian about him quitting.

I light a cigarette and inhale the smoke.

“Not the most fun family dinner we’ve had, huh?”

I turn around to see Vic standing in the doorway.  “Uh…just needed a smoke.”

He walks over to me and sits on the little bench they put up some time while I was gone.  His hand slides over mine, fingers curling around the cigarette.  I look up at him, questioningly, but he just takes the cigarette out of my hand and puts it in his mouth, inhaling.

“God, I miss this,” he says, exhaling the smoke.

I have NEVER seen Vic smoke, so I just stare at him wide-eyed.

“He’ll be here,” he says, which catches me off guard.

“What?”

“Brian.  He’ll be here.”

I shake my head.  Even I’M not that naïve.  “After what I’ve put him through?  I don’t think so.”

“He’s angry and hurt and confused.  But he’ll get over it.  Trust me.  We all will.”

I look at him and I realize that this is his way of saying that he has forgiven me.  But he’s not Brian.  “How do you get over something like that?”

Vic shrugs.  “I don’t know.  But he doesn’t have much choice, now does he?  You’re here.  You’re back.  Finally.  And that’s all that really matters to him.”

But I still don’t believe him.  He wasn’t there yesterday.  He didn’t see Brian.  “No.  He won’t forgive me.  He hates me.”  I motion toward the house.  “Everybody in there hates me.”

But Vic just smiles.  “They don’t hate you.  They might be a little angry.”

“A little?”

He smiles and continues.  “But they will get over it as well.  They care about you too much not to.  Trust me.”

Just then the door opens and we both turn around.   I feel my heart skip a beat.  It’s Brian.  We stare at each other until I hear Vic chuckling.  I look up at him when he hands me the cigarette back and gets up.  “I think it’s time for pie,” he says to me with a smile and then goes inside, patting Brian’s shoulder on his way.

When the door closes I look away, the excitement of seeing Brian again being replaced but a sense of dread that he has a little more to add to the yesterday’s tirade.

He walks over and stands next to the bench while I take another drag of the cigarette, trying to calm my nerves.

“Vic’s bumming cigarettes again?” 

I look up at him and I think I actually see him smiling at me.  It’s very faint, but it’s still a smile.  I nod my head.  “He never took cigarettes from me when I lived here.”

“That’s because YOU never had any.  You always stole mine.”

I smile at that.

But then neither of us says anything and I, again, look away.  We stay like that for a while.  He’s lost in thought, while I’m contemplating finding a huge bottle of vodka somewhere and getting majorly smashed as soon as I can get out of here.

“Why did you come back?”

I snap my head up and stare at him, caught off guard.  “What?”

“What made you come back?”

What do I tell him?  Should I just make up some good reason?  Lie?  Should I just tell him that I ran out of money or that I missed everybody?  Some bullshit like that?  That’s what he expects.  That’s what everybody expects.  So, why not just give it to them?  But I know he’ll see through it.  Through me.  Because this is a test.  The right answer could mean…a lot.  And the wrong answer would mean the end of everything.  So, I settle on the truth, no matter what the consequences are.

“You.”

He cocks his eyebrow at me, obviously expecting a little more explanation than that.  He deserves more than that.

I look away and clear my throat.  “I was sitting in this coffee shop I go to every day before work and…”

“When did you start drinking coffee?” he asks with a smirk on his face.

“Isn’t it like a requirement for everybody in corporate America?  Caffeine addiction?”

He chuckles and I continue.  “I was sitting there, going over a layout and…this song came on.”  I stop because I’m losing my nerve. 

“What song?”

I look up at him and I know he’s about thirty seconds away from laughing his ass off at how sentimental and pathetic I am.  But I decide to continue.  There’s no turning back now.  “THE song.  Our song.  The one we danced to at my prom,” I say quietly, hoping my voice won’t crack.

He doesn’t say anything.  Just stares at me.

I take a deep breath.  “And I just…I felt like…”  Another breath in.  Out.  “I just had to see you.  I felt like I wouldn’t be able to breathe until I saw you again.”

I’m afraid to even look at him, waiting for some sarcastic comment about being a foolish, sentimental little faggot.

So, I’m more than surprised when he walks over to me and holds out his hand.  I look up and I KNOW that my answer was exactly what he was looking for.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says quietly.

I don’t pause even for a second before I put my hand in his and we leave through the back without anybody noticing us.  It’s not like we’ve never done this before.  Ditch everybody because we just HAD to be together.  I know they’ll understand.

 I just got a second chance.

~~~~~~~~~

BRIAN:

God.  He is so beautiful, lying on my bed, staring up at me.

I carefully slide inside him.  I pause when I hear him moan and look down.  I’m fully expecting him to disappear into thin air just like he always does in my dreams.  But instead he puts his arms around me and pulls me closer to him.

I move in and out.  Slowly.  Very slowly.  Storing away in memory this feeling.  The feeling of being inside of him.  I wonder how I managed to survive all those months without this feeling.

I cup his face with my right hand, brushing his lips with my thumb.  They’re so soft.  I actually forgot how soft his lips are.  And full. 

“Brian.”

God.  The way he says my name.  It always drives me nuts.  Makes me go completely out of my mind.  I slam into him, a lot faster and harder now.  His body is shaking beneath mine.  Mine soon follows.

~~~

I’m surprised when my hand comes in contact with his shoulder.  I open my eyes and I know it was real.  I didn’t dream it.  Last night really happened. 

 

I watch him until he stirs and his eyes flutter open.  “Hey,” he says, stretching out lazily.

“Hey yourself.”

We stare at each other until I pull him in my arms and kiss him, morning breath be damned.

Suddenly, he pulls away and gazes at me intently. 

“What?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

“What’s next?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Brian.”

And I do.  “What’s next?”

“Yes,” he nods.

“You mean, besides us staying in bed for a month and fucking our brains out?”

That earns me a smile from him.

“I…I don’t know,” I admit honestly.

“We’ll figure it out?”

I’m not sure if it’s a question or a statement, so I make it a statement.  “We’ll figure it out.”

~~~

Later that morning while I’m making coffee and Justin’s making breakfast, my cell phone rings.  I try to ignore it, but the sound’s echoing through the quiet loft.  I finally give in and answer it, giving Cynthia my cheery morning greeting.  “What the fuck do you want?”

Right away she starts going on and on about somebody fucking up…AGAIN.  There’s a surprise.  And of course she wants me to get to the office as soon as possible to save their asses as I always do.  But fuck that.  Not today.

“It’s my day off, Cynthia.  They’ll just have to save their own asses for once.”

“But, Brian, the presentation’s in three days.”

“What would happen if I got hit by a bus?  Or if I fell out of an airplane?”

I turn around when I hear Justin snickering behind me.  I stare at him, forgetting that my assistant is whining in my ear.  He smiles back at me.  And for a moment I feel transported back in time.  But I’m not.  We’re still here.  Still trying to wake up from this fucking nightmare.  You can see it in his eyes.  How much he’s changed.  There’s no more innocence in them.  Even after the bashing it was still there.  Somewhere deep inside of him, but it was still there.  But not anymore.  It’s gone.  And I hate it.  I hate that it was taken away from him so violently.

“Brian!”  Cynthia’s voice brings me back to the present.

“Fuck this.  I’m not coming in.”  I’m about to hang up when I feel Justin’s hand on mine. 

“It’s ok, Brian.  You should go.  It’s no big deal,” he says.

I sigh, giving in to both of them.  “Fine.  I’ll be there in half an hour.”

I finally hang up and go to the bedroom and put a sweater on.  I’m not dressing up today.  I get called into the office on my day off, so I’m gonna wear whatever the fuck I feel like wearing. 

“I’ll be back in two, three hours tops,” I tell Justin when I come out of the bedroom.

He simply says “Ok” and goes back to eating his breakfast.  I kiss him and picking up my keys, head to the door.

“Will you be here when I get back?”  The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

He looks up at me.  “I’ll be here.”

I simply nod and walk out the door.

~~~

There’s a reason I’m a superhero.  I manage to put out the fire and fix whatever those fucks managed to screw up in less than an hour and head home, letting Cynthia know that I’ll be out tomorrow as well.  It’s only fair, since I sacrificed today.  I’m imagining all the different things I’m going to do to Justin in bed for the next two days when I open the door.  My breath catches in my throat.  The loft is empty.  I look around for what seems like a hundredth time, thinking that maybe somehow he’ll reappear if I only look long enough.

I try to control my panic, but it’s shooting through the roof.  I grab my keys and head to the door to go look for him.  But as I slide the door open I come face-to-face with Justin.  I feel my pulse pounding in my head.

“You’re home early,” he says.

“Where the fuck were you?” I’m finally able to say.

He walks through the door and heads to the kitchen.  “The fridge was empty and I thought I’d make dinner tonight.”  Only then I notice the big grocery bag he puts on the counter.  “So, I went to the store.”  He looks at me and I KNOW he can sense my anxiety.  “I didn’t think you’d be back so fast.”

I nod, finally getting a handle on my breathing.  Throwing the keys on the counter, I walk over to the door and slide it shut.  I lean my forehead against it, letting the coolness of the metal calm me down.  I close my eyes and count to ten. 

“What do you think about risotto for tonight?” 

His voice snaps me out of it.  I lock the door and walk back over to the kitchen.  “It’s fine.”  I pull out my cell phone from my pocket and turn it off.  Then go over into the living room and turn the other phone off as well.  The outside world doesn’t exist for us right now.  They can just all go fuck themselves.  I’m sure they can survive without me, without US for a couple of days.

~~~

Two days later we finally decide to come out of our lair.  So, Justin’s getting ready to go see his mother for a few hours, while I’m lazily drinking coffee.  I have some work to do until I have to go pick him and his things up from Jennifer’s place.

He was actually surprised when I told him to bring all his stuff over here.  The little shit actually tried to argue with me about it, giving me all these bullshit reasons why he shouldn’t.  But in the end, of course, I prevailed.

I’m in the process of pouring myself another cup of coffee when a very loud and persistent banging on the door interrupts my very enjoyable morning.  I consider not opening the door, but I know exactly who’s on the other side of it and he does have a key.  So, I slide the door open, letting the annoying little man fly through it.

“Hey, Mikey.  To what do I owe this surprise?”

He stops in the middle of the loft and turns around.  Oh-oh.  He’s pissed.  And I only need one guess to know why.

“You disappeared for like three days.”

“Two,” I correct him while heading over to the kitchen and back to my cup of coffee.

“Well, I was worried.”

“About?”

“You, you asshole.  What do you think?”

“Well, I assure you, Mikey, if something ever happens to me, you’ll be the first one to know.”

“Fuck you.  You know what I’m talking about.”

I do, but still ask.  “I do?”

“Justin.  That’s what I’m talking about.”

I glance in the direction of the bedroom, hoping that Justin’s still in the bathroom and wouldn’t hear anything before I have the chance to get rid of my bestest friend in the whole wide world.

“What about Justin?” I turn my attention back to Mikey.

“Brian, don’t play dumb,” he walks up closer and lowers his voice, thank God.  “How can you just pretend like nothing happened?”

I sigh.  I am NOT having this conversation right now.  “Stay out of it.”

“The FUCK I will.”  Shit.  He’s yelling again.  “Not after what I had to watch you go through.  No.  I am NOT staying out of it.”  Oh, great.  Now he’s on a roll and there’s no stopping him.  “He left without a word…”

“Actually, he DID leave a note,” I interrupt with a smirk, but he just glares at me.

“You think this is funny?  He didn’t even think of calling ONCE to let us know that he’s ok.  And NOW he suddenly decides to come back for whatever reason and you just welcome him back with open arms.  No questions asked.” 

“Actually, you were the one who welcomed him back with open arms at Deb’s.  Not me.” 

He frowns at me.  “Did you even bother to ask him why he left or where he’s been?  Or you just went straight to fucking him?”

I’m about to tell him to fuck off and throw him out of the loft.  But it’s too late.  Justin’s standing at the top of stairs in the bedroom.  And I KNOW that he heard EVERYTHING.

Hey, at least Mikey finally shut up.  He’s staring at Justin with this look that a puppy has after he peed in your favorite shoe.

Justin looks at me, then at Mikey, then back at me again.  There’s nothing that either one of us can say at the moment, so he walks past me and heads for the door.

“Justin.”  I try to fight the panic that’s rising in my chest.

He stops and looks at me before opening the door.  “I just…I’m just…going for a walk.”  He leaves before I can say anything else.

I look over at Mikey and he’s looking so fucking guilty.  Good.  He should.  “Great job, Mikey.  I couldn’t have done it better myself.  Make him feel so uncomfortable here that hell would look more appealing to him than his home.”  I push the coffee cup away.  I definitely don’t need caffeine to give me a boost.  My nerves are doing a fine job of it on their own.  I go over to the couch and flop down.

“You don’t think…you think…you think he’s going to leave again, don’t you?”  He walks over and stands in front of me.

I just gaze up at him. No answer needed.  You have to be an idiot not to realize that.

“So, you’re doing whatever it takes to make him stay.”

Mikey’s no genius, but he does eventually catch on and he does know me.  So, no reply from me is required.

“I’m sorry, Brian.”

I just nod and get up.  “It’s time for you to go.  I’ve got a shitload of work to do.”

I put my arm around him and push him toward the door.  He says ‘I’m sorry’ half a dozen more times and then finally leaves.

~~~~~~~~~

JUSTIN:

“What are you doing here, Justin?” Daphne asks as she gets closer.

“Thanks for coming,” I say as she sits on the swing next to mine.

I honestly didn’t think she’d come, not after the last time I saw her.  But I needed her, so I risked getting my ass chewed out again.

“Justin, is something wrong?”

“You remember that time in the second grade when I fell off this swing?”

She nods.  “I was so scared.  You wouldn’t say anything.  Or move.  You didn’t even cry.”

“I was in shock, I think, from the pain or something...”

“And I sat with you for like twenty minutes before Kathy Gillinger ran to get your mom.”

“You kept saying ‘I’m here.  And everything will be ok’ over and over again.”

“I saw somebody say that on one of mom’s soaps.”

I look over at her and we both smile.

“I need you to tell me that now,” I say.

She stands up and comes closer, wrapping her arms around me.  I cling to her, letting her warmth comfort me.  “I’m here.  And everything will be ok,” she whispers.

~~~

A couple of hours later Daphne drops me off in front of Brian’s building.  I climb the stairs instead of taking the elevator.  Stalling, I guess.  Not that it would change anything.  There’s no postponing this conversation anymore. 

I use my key to open the door and walk in.  Brian’s sitting at the computer desk.  He doesn’t even glance up at me, so I know he’s pissed.  Not that I could blame him.  After what I’ve put him through, I just take off on him…AGAIN.

I walk over to the desk and sit in a chair next to him.  Finally he raises his eyes from the computer screen and looks at me, silently waiting for whatever it is I have to say.

“Ask me,” I say.  He just arches his eyebrow.  I clear my throat.  “Michael was right.  You should have asked me all those questions.  Why I left.  Why I stayed away.  You should have asked.  And I understand why you didn’t.  But you still should.  So, ask me.”

He pushes himself away from the desk, stands up, and walks over to the kitchen.  “What for?  It doesn’t matter anymore.  It won’t change anything.  So, what’s the point?”  He leans against the counter, his back turned to me.

“The point is that you need to know.”

He turns around.  “Ok, fine.  Why?”  He raises his voice.  “This is what you wanted?  WHY?!”  He shouts.

“Because…I was too weak.”

He shakes his head.  “That’s bullshit.”

But I continue, “I was drowning, Brian.  I was in over my head.  And I was drowning.” 

He stares at me, but I can’t bear to look at him in the eye right now while admitting it all to him. 

“I knew you were there, right above the surface.  Trying to pull me back up into the boat, to safety…”  I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice from cracking.  “I’ve tried.  I really have.  But I just couldn’t.  And when you pushed that razor in my hand and told me to cut you, I…”  I wipe the tear that’s rolling down my cheek as the memory of that day springs to my mind.  I was so scared.  For Brian.  Because I knew he wasn’t bluffing.  He had every intention of letting the razor in my hand break his skin.  “I realized that instead I was pulling you down with me.  And I couldn’t do that.  I just couldn’t.”  I look up and our eyes meet.  “So I let you go.”

He closes his eyes, like it hurts him too much to look at me, and he turns away again.

The lump in my throat is choking me and I try hard to keep the tears from pouring out.  But I lose that fight too.  “I should go,” I say, getting up.  I don’t think I have enough strength to make it to the door, but somehow my legs carry me there. 

My fingers are working on unlocking the door when I feel his tall lean body press against mine.  “You’re not going anywhere,” he whispers, his breath feeling hot on my skin.  He turns me around and I can see his eyes glistening with tears.  He runs his long fingers through my hair.  “See, the problem is that when you ‘let go’ the whole fucking boat overturned, sending me deep into the water as well.”  The shock of that admission sends a shooting pain through my heart.  I see a lonely tear escape his eye and roll down his cheek.  Reaching out, I wipe it away.  He leans down and captures my lips with his own, pushing me against the cold door.  I pull his head as close to me as I can, devouring his mouth.  He pulls away just enough to push my pants down, then roughly turns me around and slams me against the door again.  I hear him rummaging with the condom wrapper. 

I cry out as he slams into me, rough and hard.  And I hold on to the cool steel door because it’s our only anchor right now.  The only thing that keeps us both from drowning.  I shoot all over the door and my stomach and Brian soon follows.  As soon as he pulls out of me we both collapse down on the floor, exhausted both physically and emotionally.  He reaches for me immediately and gathers me into his arms.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispers again.

~~~~~~~~

BRIAN:

I know a lot of people would think that fucking is the only thing I know how to do in order to deal with…well…anything.  And who could blame them.  We ARE talking about the king of pain management after all.  But THAT wasn’t it.  I didn’t fuck him right there against that cold door because I didn’t want to feel anything or couldn’t deal with things.  It was just my desperate need to be inside him.  To be as close to him as I could possibly get.  And it couldn’t wait for us to get to the bedroom or anything else.  I needed him and he needed me.

When we finally did make it to the bed, I fucked him again, this time slower, taking our time.  Bringing us close to release, then slowing down, stretching it out until neither of us could hold it in any longer and both of us let go.

I watch him now as I dry myself off with a towel while he finishes shaving, just a towel wrapped around his hips.  I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders.  He looks up and his blue eyes stare back at me through the mirror.  I study his face.  The face that I know so well and at the same time don’t know at all.  He’s changed.  A lot.  He looks older, more mature.  His jaw is more square now, cheekbones are more defined.  He’s beautiful.  Just absolutely beautiful. 

He runs his hand over my arm, bringing me back to the present. 

“Mikey called,” I say, hoping that since he’s so relaxed it’s a good time to bring it up.

“Don’t tell me.  He remembered some more shit he wanted to say to me?” he scoffs.

Ok, I guess it wasn’t such a good idea.  “No, actually, he wanted to see if we were interested in meeting the boys at Babylon later tonight.”

“You mean, if YOU’d be interested in meeting the boys at Babylon?”  He searches my face.

“No.  BOTH of us.”

His face softens and he turns around.  “Ok,” he simply says, then turns around and finishes shaving.

~~~

We leave the loft early and drive over to Jennifer’s to finally pick up Justin’s things.  We stay there for a while, then drive to the diner to grab something to eat before hitting the club.

I take his hand before we walk in, expecting an anxiety attack.  He tenses up a bit as we make our way to the booth, but that’s it.  Those months away from here really did help him, I guess.

After stuffing ourselves with lots of fat and cholesterol we finally make our way to Babylon.  And that’s when he gets all freaky.  As soon as we walk in he grabs my hand and presses as close to me as possible.  I knew this was a mistake.  Getting back to normal.  What a croak of shit.  Things would never be normal.

“You wanna leave?” I ask him.

He thinks it over for a moment, then takes a deep breath and just shakes his head no.

So, I squeeze his hand and we head for the bar.  A drink or two will calm his nerves.  That theory, of course, is shattered to pieces when I hear a familiar ‘Yoo-hoo’ from the other side of the bar.  We pretend not to hear Emmett and Mikey calling us and get our drinks first.

“Didn’t you hear us calling?”  I turn around to see Mickey’s pouty face followed by the rest of our happy little gang.

“We were thirsty.”  I look over at Justin who’s downing his second drink.  Fuck.  That’s what is making him nervous.  Not the crowd or loud music.  It’s our friends.  After the reception he got from them I can definitely understand that.  “And now we’re going to dance.”  I pull him through the crowd into the middle of the dance floor.

At first he’s barely moving, just follows my movements stiffly.  Gradually, he starts to relax though, to lose himself in the rhythm and soon enough I know that the rest of the crowd, our family, friends, the rest of the fucking world don’t matter to him. 

That is until our well-meaning friends join us on the dance floor as well.  I’m watching him carefully now, but he seems unfazed as he dances with Emmett and Ted and even Mikey.  After a few songs he goes to the bar to get a drink.  I stay on the dance floor, giving him some space.  But when he doesn’t return after two songs later I go to look for him.

I’m not surprised when I spot him at the bar.  What does stop me cold in my tracks is the sight of him snorting up a white powder.  Not only is he taking some shit, it’s not MY shit.  I know, because except for a couple of joints, my stash is empty.  So, I know for sure that he got it from someone else.  And that makes me nervous.  Makes me fucking scared shitless, because the image of Ted lying in a coma pops into my head.  Great.  Exactly what I need right now.

I shake it off and make my way over to the bar. 

“Hey,” he grins at me.  But it’s not that whole-hearted mega-watt Sunshine smile.  No.  It’s the Justin’s-totally-smashed grin.  “Just the man I was thinking off.”  He pulls on my shirt.  “Let’s dance.”

I take a hold of his hand.  “I’ve had enough of this place.”

“Come on, dance with me,” he tries to pull me to the dance floor.

Ok, reasoning won’t work with him now.  So, I pull out my foolproof card.  I pull him into my arms and kiss him hard.  “I want to take you home and fuck you all night long,” I whisper in his ear and feel him shiver.  I’ve got him.  He grins again as we move toward the exit.

~~~

I wake up to a horrible sound of retching.  I pull a pillow over my head, trying to block out the sound and fall back asleep, but sleep leaves me in a second when my brain registers the retching sound again.

I hurry into the bathroom to find him naked on the floor, leaning against the wall.  I wet a towel and hand it to him without a word.  No words necessary right now.  We’ve done this before.  Him getting smashed and being sick the morning after.  That was the usual story ever since that day.  The day when our lives were turned upside down.

He leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes.  And I don’t know what else to do but sit next to him and take his hand in mine, letting him know that I was still here.

The next couple of weeks turn into reruns of the same thing for us.  I go to work while he sleeps off the effects of drugs and alcohol, unless he gets sick.  Then he spends half the day puking his guts out.  Then he spends the rest of the day either drawing, talking on the phone with his ‘just friend’ Terry in Chicago, or trying to convince his mother and Debbie that he’s all better.  He’s even got them all excited with his talk about going back to school.  And they want to believe him so badly that they choose not to see through his bullshit.  They don’t want to accept the fact that he’s barely holding on.  Or that he’s seriously considering going back to Chicago.  To his nice internship at that fucking publishing firm.  I know I should be glad that he had someone there looking out for him.  That Terry or his brother, who got Justin that job.  I KNOW I should be grateful that they made sure Justin was ok.

~~~

I slide the door open and look around for him.  He’s sitting by the window, just blankly staring out.

“Lindsay invited us over for dinner tonight,” I say as I drop my coat on the couch.

“Whatever.”  He gets up and puts the phone down.  At least it’s not a no.

“Talking to somebody?”

He looks at me and is about three seconds from telling me to fuck off.  “John.”  Aaah.  The famous Terry’s brother.

“How is the Windy city?”

“Windy,” he says flatly as he pulls out a bottle of beer.

I go to the bedroom and pull off my shirt and pants.  “Are you going to change?” I ask him.  He looks like he’s been sleeping in those pants, among other things.

“What the fuck for?” Well, he’s in a lovely mood.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

I finish changing clothes and we drive to the munchers’.

~~~

I hoped that spending some time with Gus and the two mommies would be good for Justin.  I forgot to factor in a couple of really insignificant details:  that Gus doesn’t remember Justin and that Lindsay’s still pissed at our young artiste for taking off like he did.  Like I said, insignificant.  Oh, and of course there’s the fact that Justin does NOT want to be here.  He spends the whole dinner sulking, barely saying two words.  And since Lindsay’s pretty quiet as well, that leaves Mel and I to keep up the conversation at the table.  Ha!  Isn’t that an interesting concept?  The two of us actually working together.  Actually getting along.

After dinner, while Mel and Linds clean up, the two of us play with Gus in the living room.  Or I should say, I’m playing with Gus and Justin sits in a chair staring into space.

Gus picks up his teddy bear off the floor and wobbles over to me. 

“Hey, Sonny boy, why don’t you give the bear to Justin?”  I push Gus a little toward Justin, but the kid just grabs onto my hand and tries to hide behind me instead.  Just like he always does when he sees somebody he doesn’t know.  A stranger.  “Come on, Gus, go over to Justin.”  I push him again, but he just won’t budge.  I nudge him yet again, and Gus starts to whimper, but I’m determined now.  “It’s just Justin, Gus.”  But he screams and is about to start crying.

“Would you just STOP IT?!” 

I look up startled at the now standing Justin.  “What?”

“He doesn’t remember me, Brian.  Just leave it the fuck alone,” he shouts.  And with that he makes his big exit, slamming the door before I can even comprehend what the fuck just happened. 

I hand Gus to Lindsay who runs out of the kitchen when she hears the commotion, and go after him.  By the time I catch up with Justin he’s more than half a block away, lighting a cigarette.

“Do you wanna tell me what the fuck this was all about?” I ask him as soon as I reach him.

“Nothing.”  He turns away from me.  The little fuck. 

I turn him around.  “Justin, what is wrong with you?”

“I told you.  NOTHING!  Jesus.  Can’t you just fucking leave it alone?!”  He shrugs my hand off.  “No.  You ALWAYS have to push.  You don’t give a shit what the other person wants or feels.  You HAVE to get things your way.”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep a lid on my emotions.  “And what pray tell do you want?”

He stares at me with so much anger.  “I want out of this conversation.  Out of THIS!”

“Why?  So you can run back to good friends Terry and John?  Because they don’t ask anything of you?  They just go along with whatever poor little Justin wishes?” 

He smirks.  “So, that’s what this is all about?  John and Terry?”  He shakes his head.  “It must really kill you that somebody else was there for me when you weren’t.  That I actually made a life for myself away from here.  That I survived without YOU!”

I stare at him shell-shocked.   “FUCK!  YOU!”

I leave him standing there, get in the Jeep, and drive off.

~~~

I make a quick, or at least that was the idea, stop at Woody’s.  By the time I get out of there I’m pleasantly numb and totally shit-faced.  Which was the goal.  So, mission accomplished.  Good job, Bri.  With all the practice I’ve had over the years how could it not be?  Right?  I leave the Jeep and walk to the next scheduled stop on the pain management tour – Babylon. 

I grab the first guy that looks my way and make our way to the backroom.  As soon as my back hits the wall, I unzip my jeans and push him down.  Don’t feel like doing any work at the moment.  Just need to forget for now.  Finish what booze and drugs didn’t accomplish in the last few hours.  Last few months.  Forgetting him.  Getting him out my head. 

I feel the guy’s mouth on my cock, so I close my eyes, letting the feeling of pleasure to wash over me.  Except…it doesn’t.  It’s wrong.  All wrong.  Wrong mouth.  Wrong guy. 

Just then I feel the trick pull away from me.  I look down to see what the deal is and am about to tell him to get the fuck on with it when my eyes land on a blonde head.  No.  That can’t be right.  I’m sure it’s just my fucking mind playing tricks on me.  Again.  That happened a lot in the past months.  Imagining being with him instead of some nameless, faceless trick.  Feeling his lips, his hair, his skin.  Calling out HIS name.

I close my eyes again, giving into the fantasy.  I’ll deal with the reality later.  Right now I want to feel something else besides the anger and frustration and pain.  And I do.  Feeling his wet warm mouth on my dick makes me forget everything else.  It’s not long before I cum.  It’s like he knows exactly what I like and how I like it.  Just like…

I keep my eyes closed, hoping that by the time I open them the guy will be gone and the fantasy won’t be shattered.  Not yet.  I start zipping up my pants, but he stops me, pushing my hands away.

“Go away,” I say, eyes still closed.

“No.”

My eyes snap open at the sound of the familiar voice.  He leans in and kisses me, hard, as he sneaks his hand into the back pocket of my jeans and pulls out a condom.  He pulls away and rips the wrapper, then rolls it slowly on my already hard cock.  His eyes never wavering from mine.  We’re both breathing like we just ran ten miles and I can’t get enough of the taste of his mouth on my tongue.  I snake my fingers through his hair and pull his face up to mine roughly, my tongue exploring the inside of his mouth.  We forget that we’re in the middle of the backroom.  If the walls crumbled around us, we wouldn’t have noticed as we devoured each other, sucking and biting and licking. 

I slam him against the wall and pull lube out of the pocket of my jacket, but he says no.  So, I enter him dry.  I hear him cry out, but I push even harder.  That’s what he wants.  He hurt me and now he wants me to hurt him.  And I do.   Over and over.  Until we both let go.

Afterwards I stay inside of him as we’re both trying to catch our breath.  I press him against the wall, arms on each side of his body.  Our clothes are soaked with sweat.  I burry my face in his hair and breathe in his smell.  It’s more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol.  More addictive.  And a lot more dangerous. 

~~~~~~~~

JUSTIN:

I close my eyes and let the warm water wash over my face.  Our minds weren’t exactly on personal hygiene the night before after the stunt I pulled.

“Turn around.”

I open my eyes at the quiet sound of Brian’s voice.  He’s acting as if nothing happened.  As if I didn’t say what I said and didn’t hurt him the way I did.  I tried to say ‘sorry’ a hundred times since we got home from Babylon, but the words just won’t come out of my mouth.  Nothing comes out of my mouth.  Not a word.  What could I possibly say to make up for what I said to Brian?  That I didn’t mean it?  I didn’t.  But that would mean that I said it to hurt him.  To make him angry.  To make him furious.  So he would stop being the kind, loving, understanding, and concerned boyfriend for just a fucking moment.  I wanted him to yell at me.  To shout.  Scream at the top of his lungs.  It would have made everything so much easier.  God.  I am so FUCKED UP.

“No, you’re not.”

I open my eyes and look into a pair of the most incredible pair of hazel eyes staring down at me.  Shit.  I said it out loud.  I try to get out of the shower stall, but he wraps his arms around me.  “Shhh.  It’s ok.”  I feel his thumb brushing my cheek and I realize that I’m crying.  What a fucking pussy.  He takes my face in his hands.  “Justin, look at me.”  He leans in closer.  “You are not fucked up.  You understand?”  He shakes me lightly when I don’t respond.  “You are NOT fucked up,” he repeats and then hugs me.  And we just stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arm.  Letting the water wash away the pain and anger of the night before from our bodies.

~~~

A couple of days later Brian decides that we should go away for a few days.  “We deserve a vacation,” he said when he came home and just started packing the big duffel bag.  So, we threw the bags into the Jeep and just started driving.  “Running away from home” as Brian put it.  Except then we realized that with my history it wasn’t such a good idea, so we pulled out our cells and called everyone to let them know that we’re ok. 

We end up driving to New York, switching every couple of hours, so we get there in about six hours.  The minute we drive up to the hotel I recognize the place.  The same one I stayed at when I ran away after Brian’s loft got robbed.  I guess Brian really wanted to “run away” from home for a few days.  He even asked for the same room.  Except it was already taken so we ended up getting the one across the hall from it.

As soon as we get it, we christen the bed, the couch, and then the bed again.  Then we finally take a shower and unpack. 

It’s already dark outside by the time we leave the room, so we stop by a Chinese place that Brian said was great and then hit the clubs.  Brian’s way of showing me the city, since we didn’t get to see much the last time we were here.  We don’t stay out long, though.  After a few drinks we head back to the hotel and fuck all night.

~~~

"Brian, wake up,” I shake him slightly.

“Go away,” he growls.

“Wake up.”  I kiss him lightly on the lips.

“Mmmm.”

“Wake up,” I whisper in his ear and I can already see him getting hard.

“What?!” His eyes are finally open.

“Did you know that there’s an indoor pool in this hotel?”

The expression on his face changes and I know he’s about to rip me a new one.  “So?”

“I thought we’d check it out.”

He sighs exasperatedly, “Justin.  I am NOT getting into cold chlorine water at…”  He looks over at the clock on the nightstand.  “Nine o’clock?”  He looks back at me.  “You woke me up at nine o’clock?”

“There are a bunch of places I want to see today,” I defend myself.

He runs his hand through his hair, obviously at the end of his rope with me, which is kind of amusing at the moment.  He sits up.  “Justin, has anybody ever explain the concept of vacation to you?”

I smile, “Yes.  Sightseeing, sightseeing, and more sightseeing.”

He shakes his head.  “No.  Sleep, sleep, and more sleep.”

I snort, about to mention that he forgot one little detail.

“And fucking, of course,” he adds.

“Of course,” I tease.  “Fine.  You sleep.  I’m going to the pool.”

“Fine,” he slumps back down on the pillow and pulls the covers over his head.

I roll off the bed and rummage through the bag, finding the blue shorts I’ve been looking for since I didn’t bring my swimming trunks.  I turn around, searching for my t-shirt, but my eyes find Brian’s eyes locked on me instead.

“I thought you were vacationing.”  I smirk at him.  I spot the t-shirt and pull it on.

“You look hot in those.”  He sits up and looks me over.  Oh, I know that look so well.

“So, does that mean you’re coming?”  I ask

“Fuck no,” he replies.

“Ok.  I’ll be back in half an hour,” I simply say, heading out the door.

I’m not surprised in the least when ten minutes later mister ‘I don’t wake up before noon’ wanders in with a cup of latte in one hand and a newspaper in the other and plants himself in one of the lounge chairs by the pool.

~~~~~~~~

BRIAN:

Justin flashes me a smile and I regret not wearing my sunglasses.  This is definitely one of THE Sunshine smiles.  Bright, almost blinding.  I watch him flounder around the pool, doing laps when he’s not trying to get me all wet.  He grins when I finally pull my sweats and wife-beater off and jump in the water.

We spend the rest of the time there trying to see who can make more splashes.  I’m sure his laughter can be heard through the whole hotel.  But neither of us gives a shit.  Because for the first time in a long time he’s JUSTIN.

I pull him in my arms, not giving a flying fuck about a couple of breeders on the other side of the pool.  I brush a strand of hair off his forehead.  “You’re not drowning anymore,” I whisper and pull him into a kiss.

~~~

But, of course, it can’t be that easy.  We have to struggle, and fight, and suffer for just a tiny drop of happiness.  The four days in New York were probably the best ones we’ve ever had together.  We had no baggage, no worries, no problems to deal with.  But as soon as we got in the Jeep on Sunday afternoon to drive back home the reality flooded us again.

The drive home was quiet; both of us dreading what was awaiting us back at the Pitts.  And we were right.  The magic of being in another city where it was only the two of us faded quickly, revealing the same problems and issues we hoped to leave behind.  Robby was still dead.  Justin was still dealing with that.  Along with our wonderful friends and family.  And I was still trying to get the image of Justin lying on the steel table in the morgue out of my head.

So, over the next couple of weeks things only got worse.  Justin spent hours on the phone with his friends from Chicago and nights were spent, of course, getting shit-faced.

~~~~~~~~

JUSTIN:

When Deb invites you over for pasta you DON’T even dare to say ‘No.  I don’t feel like being around anyone.’  You nod and ask, ‘should I bring anything.’

We bring a bottle of red wine that Vic likes and spend the night listening to Emmett and Ted talk about their trip to Florida and Ben go on and on about some Zen bullshit.  So, I just keep pouring wine into my glass, trying to ignore the look of concern now permanently plastered on Brian’s face.

I finally sneak out to the bathroom when Debbie and mom start cleaning up the table.  I lock the door and open the faucet, splashing some cold water on my face.  This is just getting too much.  All of it.  John’s been calling me every day.  Mom’s been on my case about going back to school.  And everybody’s still treating me like if they say the wrong thing around me I’ll break into million little pieces.  Lindsay won’t say more than two words to me and Gus doesn’t want anything to do with me at all.  Just like the rest of them.  And I know Brian’s getting frustrated with the whole thing as well.  “You’re not drowning anymore.”  God, Brian, I wish you were right.  We both wanted to believe it so bad that we tried to fool ourselves into thinking that it was true.  And I still want to believe it so badly.

I turn off the water, wipe my face, and go back into the living room.  Brian’s not there, so I go to check the back yard.  He’s probably smoking a joint there like we used to every time Deb had pasta nights.  There’s a crack in the door, so I start to push it open, but when I hear Lindsay’s voice, I stop.

“So, how’s everything?”

“If by everything you mean Justin, he’s fine,” Brian replies.

“Come on, Brian.  In all the years we’ve known each other you were never able to lie to me.”

“What about that time I forgot to hand your U.S. history paper in and told you my bag was stolen?”

I can’t see Lindsay’s face, but I know that Brian’s little distraction technique didn’t work on her, because I hear her say “Brian,” sternly, “How is everything?”

Brian sighs and I can almost hear him run his hand through his hair.  “I don’t know, Linds.  I just…fuck!”

“What?”

“He’s…not good.”  He says quietly and there’s so much sadness in his voice.

“And you?”  Lindsay asks softly.

He’s silent for a long time, then says.  “Maybe…it would…maybe it would have been better if…” he stumbles over the words.

“If what?”

“If…if he hadn’t come back.”

I feel like he just dumped a ten tons rock on my chest, cutting off the air supply.  I’ve heard enough, so I head out to the front door.  As soon as I shut the door behind me, I take out my phone.  When John picks up, I just say, “Hi.  It’s me.  I’ll do it.”

~~~~~~~~

BRIAN: 

“You don’t mean that,” Lindsay says.

I sigh.  “Of course I don’t.  But I KNOW that’s what he’s thinking.  He believes that.  And I don’t have a fucking clue how to change that.”  I sit down on the bench and she sits next me.

“You’ll find a way, Bri.”  She puts her hand on top of mine. 

But I shake my head.  She still believes in happy endings. 

We sit silently for a while.

“So, your bag wasn’t stolen?” she asks me suddenly. 

I smile, kiss her cheek and leave in search of my lost boy who apparently is on his third cigarette, if the butts on the ground are any indication.

“You smoke too much.”

He turns to me and the lost look in his eyes knocks the wind out of me for a moment. 

He tries to play along, though.  “Isn’t that my line?”  He tries to smile, but I see through that.  Through him.

“I think I’ve eaten enough carbs to last me a month.  And if we don’t leave now we might get stuck with pie as well.”

He nods and we leave.

~~~

In the middle of the night I’m awaken by Justin’s screams.  I try to shake him awake but it’s like he can’t get out of the nightmare he’s in.  No matter how hard he tries or how close I am to him.  He finally opens his eyes, but instead of calming down, he becomes even more agitated and tries to get out of the bed.  He pushes me away, but I hug him even closer.  “It was just a dream, Justin.  You’re ok now.  You’re ok.”

His breathing is very frantic and his skin is sticky with sweat.  Finally, he realizes that it’s me and wraps his arms around my neck, clinging to me so desperately.  “I can’t.  I’m sorry.  I can’t,” he cries, his body shaking.  “I tried, but I can’t.”

And I feel my heart breaking all over again.  I know that he’s talking about the nightmare, but I also KNOW that he’s not.  And it’s killing me.

“Shhh, it’s ok.  You’re ok.”  That’s all I’m able to utter because the lump in my throat won’t let me speak.  Won’t even let me breathe.

~~~

When I get home from work the next day I hear Justin talking on the phone with somebody.  I'm not sure what he's talking about or who he's talking to.  Somebody from Chicago.  Terry or John.  Has to be.  And it sounds like he's talking about work. 

"Yeah, I'll fax it to you tomorrow...Ok...Ok...Cool...bye." 

He hangs up, puts the phone down and looks up at me.  And that's when I realize that I’ve been right all along. 

"You're leaving, aren't you?"  The words are out of my mouth before I can process the information myself.  I stand there and just stare at him, hoping, praying, begging for him to tell me that I'm wrong, that I'm just being paranoid.  But he doesn't.  The surprise on his face is replaced by guilt.  He looks away.  But I still stare at him, willing him to say something.  Anything.  Fuck. Just say something, Justin.  Please. 

I finally make myself move towards the kitchen.  Picking up a bottle of Jim Beam, I take a sip.  Then another.

"I'm sorry." 

I put the bottle down and turn around.  He's behind me. 

"I'm sorry," he says again.

When we were in New York, he finally said it.  That he was sorry.  For what he’s put me through.  For leaving.  For those things he said.  For everything.  I told him, of course, that it was bullshit, but he just kept apologizing.  "You've been saying that a lot lately," I say, taking another sip.

"I've been fucking up a lot lately," he says.

I laugh nervously.  What else is there to do but laugh at this whole fucking situation?  I stop.  I realize that he's still blaming himself for everything.  "Fucking up?  What happened wasn't your fault, Justin.  How many fucking times do I have to tell you that?"

"You don't.  It doesn't matter.  I fucked up before that.  I fucked up long before that.  And I will fuck it all up again."

"So, you're just getting an early start on it?" I say sarcastically.

"I really am sorry, Brian.  The last thing I want to do is hurt you.  You have to believe me," he's pleading with me, like if I believe him it would somehow make the whole thing less painful.

I sigh.  There’s nothing else left to say.

"I tried, Brian.  I really did.  You have no idea how much I want to be here, with you.  More than anything I want to forget and just move on...the two of us together.  But I can't.  It's just too hard.  And not just for me.  For everybody.  Everybody would be better off with me gone."

My head snaps up, and I know I have shock written all over my face, "What the fuck are you talking about?  Do you have any fucking idea how much everybody cares about you?!" I'm pretty sure I'm shouting at this point but I don't give a damn.  "Do you have any idea what everybody went through when you left?  How devasted they all were?"

He's staring back at me.  I can see the tears in his eyes.  He sighs.  "It's just too hard," he almost whispers.  And I know that his mind is made up. 

I turn around, twirling the cap from the JB in my hands.  "Where will you go?  Back to Chicago?" I ask, hoping my voice won't betray me.

"Yes.  The firm where I interned offered me a full-time position."

"That's great."  Go make a life for yourself somewhere else.  Away from here, away from me.  "When are you leaving?"  My heart is pounding like crazy.  It feels like it will burst out of my chest any moment now.  He's silent for a moment, hesitant.  That can't be good.

"Thursday."

I spin around and look at him again, not even bothering to cover up the pain that's written on my face anymore.  Thursday?  Fucking Thursday?  It's already Monday night.  Two days.  I have two days.  WE have two fucking days left? 

I try to start breathing again, but it's not working.  I feel like the waves are rolling in and I'm drowning once again.  Suffocating, my lungs heavy from the water I’ve swallowed.  I have to get out of here before I'm pulled to the bottom of the fucking ocean.  I grab the keys from the counter and leave without another word.

~~~

"There you are."

I look up to see Mikey sitting in a stool next to mine.  He's alone.  No Ben.  No boys. 

"How did you know where to find me?"  I ask. 

"Justin."  As if that explains everything.

"What?  He told you I might need someone to talk to?" I say in a high-pitch voice, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Actually...no.  He said you might need someone to just be there...for you."  For some reason that catches me off guard.  I just stare at Michael.  "He knows you pretty well, huh?"

I look down at my drink.  What good is him knowing me?  He's still going to be gone in two days. 

"What happened?  Did you two have a fight?"

A fight?  God, I wish.  I just shake my head no.  I don't think I can speak.

"Well, what?  I mean, I thought you two were..."

"He's leaving," I cut him off.  I'm not really sure if he heard me because I practically whispered it. 

"What?"  I guess he did.

"Thursday.   He's leaving."

He's silent for a moment.  He's like me.  Shocked into silence.  I feel his hand on my arm.  I look at it, then at him.  I'm about to say I don't need his fucking pity.  But it's not pity that I see in his eyes.  It's sadness. 

"I'm sorry," he says, squeezing my arm lightly.

I turn away.  That's all I can do to keep from crying.

We sit like that for a while.  Me staring at my drink.  And him staring at me.

"Tell him you want him to stay," Michael suddenly says.

"Huh?"  I look at him.

"Tell him.  Ask him to stay.  I know that if you ask him he will.  He'll stay.  He loves you.  More than anything.  He'd stay," he's getting enthusiastic about it.

God, Mikey, you are so naive.  "I can't," I say quietly.

"Fuck your pride, Brian!  He's leaving.  You have to stop him.  I KNOW you want him here.  I KNOW that.  EVERYBODY does.  So, fucking tell him and make him stay."

"It's not...it's not...pride," I try to say, but my voice is cracking.

"Then what?"

"I can't."

I can feel his arms around me now, pulling me closer to him.  I hug him back, but this time I'm not getting any comfort from him. 

~~~~~~~~

JUSTIN:

I practically jump off the couch when I hear the door open.  I watch him close the door behind him, then turn to me.  We're staring at each other.  I'm waiting for him to start yelling, screaming, shouting.  Anything.  Any type of emotion other than this haunted look in his eyes I can deal with.  I think.

I take a couple of steps towards him.  He doesn't move and doesn't try to push me away.  I take it as a good sign and get closer.  We're standing right next to each other now.  I'm staring up into the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes. 

"I'm sorry," I whisper.  I know I've said it like a million times before, but I need him to believe me.  I need him to know that it's killing me just as much as it's killing him. 

His eyes scan my face, searching for something, trying to look into my soul.  And I open it up for him as much as I can.  I need him to see what I feel.  To know what I feel for him.

"I know."  It's so inaudible I'm wondering if it's just my own thoughts on what I want him to say. 

I take his face in my hands and pull him down, kissing him softly.  I feel something hot and wet on my cheeks.  I open my eyes and see tears on his face.  He's crying.  And my heart is breaking for him.  His eyes are still closed.  I gently wipe the tears away with my hands.  Then kiss him again.  He opens his eyes and stares down at me.  Neither of us is talking.  Neither of us knows what to say.  So I take his hand in mine and lead him to the bedroom. 

I unbutton his shirt and pull it off his shoulders.  Then pull off the wife beater he has on.  He doesn't say a word.  Just lets me do whatever.  I unzip his jeans and pull them down.  He steps out of them and gets on the bed.  I remove my own clothes and get on top of him, capturing his mouth with mine.  The kiss is passionate, but not crazy.  Not like most of the time...not like we're two starving animals that can't get enough of each other.  It's tender, gentle.  As if we move too fast it would all disappear, shatter. 

My lips leave his and travel down his neck and collarbone.  He doesn't move.  Just gives me access to every part of his body.  And I that's what I do.  I place soft, gentle kisses down his chest, slowly caressing his thigh.  Somehow I find my way back to his mouth.  He pulls away for a moment, reaching for the lube and condom.  But instead of ripping the wrapper open he pauses and stares at me.  He hands me the lube.  Then slowly opens the condom.  I wait for him to put it on his dick, but instead he pushes me away slightly and starts to put it on mine.  He stops half way and looks at me, our eyes meeting. We stare at each other for a fleeting second, then he looks down and finishes rolling the condom up. 

Discarding the wrapper, he rolls over.  I kiss down his back.  I'm taking it as slow as I can, making sure I pay attention to every part of his body.  Making sure that he's ready for me, I slide into him.  Brian's soft moan is the only sound between us.

He cums first.  I follow him almost right away.  When I finally get my breathing under control I start to pull out of him, but his arm reaches and holds me in place.  I know what he wants.  We've done this before.  Only it was the other way around.  Me holding him inside me.  And now he wants, needs me inside of him for as long as possible, not wanting this connection to go away.  So I stay inside of him, even after he falls asleep. 

~~~~~~~~

BRIAN:

Tuesday we spend driving around town because Justin wanted to say good-bye to everybody.  He didn’t want a good-bye party or anything equally as cheesy.  So, we go to everybody separately.

First we stop by Emmett and Mikey’s.  Ted and Ben are also there, so that saves us some time.  I got to hand it to everybody.  All four of them were on their best behavior.  Even Emmett.  No waterworks.  He just hugged ‘his baby’ for the longest time.  I turned away, unable to watch as Justin said good-bye, knowing that my turn was coming soon.

Then we went to the munchers’.  Mel kept telling him to keep in touch while Lindsay just sat there looking at him.  But instead of the anger, her eyes were filled with sadness.  And I had to get up and leave the room before everyone noticed the tears in my eyes.

Debbie and Vic were next.  I had to keep myself from bursting into nervous laughter, or a hysterical one, while they were making plans to come visit ‘Sunshine’ in Chicago.  I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs “Don’t you people get it?!  He’s LEAVING!  Forever!”

After finally escaping the deathly grip of Debbie Novotny, I dropped Justin off at Daphne’s who then was supposed to get him to his final stop for the day – his mother’s, of course.  He said he’d need some time alone with her to convince her not to come to the airport on Thursday.  I wished him luck with that and headed to the store to pick up a couple of things.

When he came back later that night I locked the door, set the alarm, and turned all of the phones off.  The next thirty-six hours were ours.  Nobody else was allowed in. 

We barely talked during that time.  There really wasn’t anything left to say.  So, we either fucked or just lounged around in each other’s arms, trying to store that feeling in our memories.

~~~

“Brian,” I hear Justin’s voice over and over again. 

I tell myself it’s a dream and roll on the other side.  Late Wednesday night we finally gave into sleep.

“Mmm.”

“Brian, wake up.”

“Go away.”

But I’m awake.  I hear him laughing.

“Come on, wake up.”

“What?” I growl.  I finally open my eyes and try to focus on his face. 

“Come with me.”

Just then I notice that he’s fully dressed.  “Justin, it’s…” I look at the clock next to the bed, “It’s after four.  Where the fuck are we going?”

“Just trust me.”

“Justin,” I try to protest, as he pulls the duvet off me.

“You won’t be sorry,” he has a mischievous grin on his face.

I grunt, but get up.

~~~

I look around.  I know this place.  It’s…it’s Justin’s house.  Was Justin’s house.  Before his parents got divorced.  Before his dad threw him out.  I look at him, “What are we doing here?”

He gives me that grin again.  The grin that can make me do anything he wants, “You’ll see.”

He gets out of the car, and so do I.  I follow him through the driveway, the front yard.  There’s a closed fence separating the backyard.  Justin does something to the lock and the door magically opens. 

“I guess the new owners didn’t fix it,” he says as we sneak in. 

We walk around the house to where the pool is.  Everything’s dark, except for one light bulb on the side of the house. 

He starts to undress.  I just kind of look at him like he’s insane.  I think he is.   He’s standing completely naked now.  Yep, definitely insane.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper as he jumps in.

“Come on, the water’s great,” he splashes some water in my direction.

“No fucking way am I getting in,” I say as quietly as I can.

“Don’t be such a wuss.”

“Would you keep your voice down?  We’re gonna get caught.”

“That’s the idea,” he says, giving me that naughty smile again.  I’m already hard.  Just seeing him naked was enough.   

I undress in record time.  I’ve had a lot of practice in that department.  He just stands there, watching me; the look in his eyes makes me want him even more.  I jump in.  The feel of cold water nearly knocks the breath out of me for a few seconds.  But then he’s near me, putting his arms around my neck, kissing me.  And I’m hot.  I’m burning. 

Somehow we manage to put the condom on my cock and I slide into him.  I stop when he moans loudly, looking around to make sure that nobody heard him.  But he just giggles.  He wants to get caught.  Well, not me.  So, I occupy his mouth with my tongue as I move in and out.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this,” he says, panting, as I push a little harder.

“What?  Fucking in the pool?”

He shakes his head, unable to say a word because I pick up the pace.  “No…fu…fucking in this pool…with you…when I…I lived here.”

I chuckle.  “I’m sure your father…mmmm….would have loved…the show.”

And he just bursts out laughing.  In the middle of the night in some strangers’ pool.  Not to mention in the middle of a fuck.  Shit.  Someone turns on the lights on the second floor.  But he just keeps on laughing.  I put my hand over his mouth and move us into the darker corner of the pool.  I nearly push us both under the water just so that the head sticking out of the second-floor window doesn’t see us.  When the lights are turned off again, I finally move my hand away.  And I’m rewarded with another grin. 

“Do you want to end up in jail?  Is that what you want?”  I move out of him and start to get out of the pool, but he reaches out and stops me.

“No,” he shakes his head, his face serious now.  “I want you.”  He wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me down for a kiss.  There’s no way we’d make it to the Jeep now, so I slide back inside of him.

~~~

When we get home after our little swimming lesson, we head straight for bed.  Justin wraps his arms around me and I pull him as close to me as humanly possible.  The heat coming from him warms my whole body and I’m asleep in minutes.

~~~

I open my eyes when I can’t ignore the bright light coming through the windows anymore.  I reach out to Justin’s side of the bed.  It doesn’t surprised me when the only thing my hand comes in contact with is cold sheets.  I close my eyes again, hoping I can sleep through this day.  And the next.  And the one after that.  Once again I’m going to have to remind myself to breathe and drink and eat and take one step after the other.  I honestly don’t think I can do this again, but what other choice do I have?  None.  Justin’s gone.  And I know that he’s definitely not coming back this time. 

When sleep doesn’t come, I decide to get out of bed and take a shower.  Needing to wash away the smell of chlorine from the pool.  The smell of Justin on my skin.  I need to get rid of it.  Maybe then it will be easier.  Right.  Who am I kidding?

I start getting up when my eyes land on a piece of paper and the key to the loft on his pillow.  I leave the key where it is, pick up the drawing and stare at it.  It’s the drawing of us in that pool.  There’s no inscription there.  Just the black and white image of the two of us, arms wrapped around each other.  I close my eyes and I can still hear him giggling when we almost got caught.  Still feel him, his warmth. 

He must have spent all night drawing it.  Putting on paper our good-bye.  Because that’s what it was.  Neither of us is a big fan of big weepy and sappy good-bye scenes.  So, even though his plane doesn’t leave until noon, I knew he’d be gone when I woke up.  I knew it even as I jumped in the water, that it was the last time I’d be inside him.  I knew it when he clung to me so desperately when we laid in bed later that night.  I didn’t ask him whether he’d be there when I woke up, something that I’d done systematically since that first time I asked him that.  Every time I left the loft or went to sleep I asked him ‘Will you be here when I come back’.  And he always said ‘yes’.  Always.  But I didn’t ask him last night.  Couldn’t ask him.  Because I didn’t want to make him say ‘no’. 

~~~

A couple of hours later I finally get out of the shower and pull some old jeans and a wife-beater on.  Grabbing a bottle of my old friend Jim Beam and Justin’s drawing, I go into the living room and drop down on the couch.  Putting the bottle aside, I stare at the drawing, getting lost in the memory. 

I’m not sure how much time passes when the phone rings.  Justin must have turned the phone back on, since I don’t remember doing it. 

“Bri?  It’s Linds.  If you’re there, pick up.”  She sounds upset, almost frantic, and I almost answer the phone.  Almost.  “Brian.”  She sighs.  “I just…Gus, he remembered.  He remembered Justin.”  She whimpers and I realize that she’s crying.  “He remembered him.  We were looking at photo albums and he saw Justin and he recognized him.  And now…now he won’t stop calling for him.  He misses him.  Brian?  Please.  I…we have to do something.  We HAVE to.  To stop him.  To make him stay.  This is where he belongs.  Here.  Brian?  Please, pick up.”  She waits a little longer and finally hangs up.  And I sit there trying to get my heart to beat again. 

“Ask him to stay.  I know that if you ask him he will.  He'll stay.”  Mikey’s words rang in my mind.  The thing is.  I knew he was right.  I knew it.  But I couldn’t make that decision for Justin.  Because he’s the one who has to deal with all this bullshit.  But maybe...maybe it would have been easier for him if he knew.  Knew that I needed him here just as much as he needed me.  Yes.  Fuck it.  I admit it.  I need him.  Big fucking deal.  I need him.  No, I want him here.  That’s more important.  And I know that we can make it work.  We can get through this.  If everyone would just back off a little and give him some breathing room, he’d be able to get his life back.  I would make sure of it. 

I glance over at the clock.  It’s 11:25.  I’ve got thirty-five minutes.  I drop the drawing, grab my keys off the counter and my jacket off the couch and run out the door.  Maybe, just maybe me asking him to stay will make it all better.  At least, I’ll know that I did everything I could to make him stay.  So, I drive like a maniac through town, but it seems like everybody in this God-forsaken city is on the road right now and they all forgot how to fucking drive.  It’s 12:05 when I finally park the car in front of the terminal, not caring if it gets towed or not, and try to find the American Airlines check-in desk.

“Did flight 1305 board yet?” I ask her, trying to catch my breath at the same time.

She looks down at the computer screen.  “Actually, it just left, sir.”  She points to the window and I see a plane taxiing away from the terminal and onto the runway.  “We do have another flight to Chicago leaving in two hours, sir, if you’d like...”

I don’t hear the rest.  I walk over to the window and watch the plane take off, suddenly feeling completely empty and numb.  It’s over.  NOW it’s really over.  He’s gone. 

~~~

I park the Jeep in my usual spot and go inside.  Not in any hurry to get to the empty loft, I take the stairs.  Slowly, I climb one step at a time.  I feel so tired all of a sudden, I could sleep for days.  That’s a good idea.  Sleep.  I found that sleep is the best way to avoid the real world.  Better than alcohol or drugs.  Maybe even better than…

I stop cold in my tracks when my eyes settle on a figure in blue jeans and grey t-shirt sitting on the floor by my door, staring at me.  I feel my heart skip a beat as he slowly gets up, his eyes never leaving mine.  I feel my eyes stinging with tears, and I don’t bother fighting them off anymore.  Instead I climb the last couple of stairs and stand in front of him, silently.  No words needed.  Because he knows, he can see in my eyes that I went after him to ask him to stay.  And I know that he couldn’t get on that plane. 

The End.

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