Cheating Judases (Brian's POV) I can't get my last conversation with Justin out of my mind.  The whole thing was off.  He was off.  I can't figure out where it all went wrong.  Our shaking hands was not exactly a good start.  But it went straight to hell when I switched from being a sarcastic bastard to being protective.  Threatening the fiddler.  What the fuck was that?  I am not supposed to care if Justin gets hurt.  Shouldn't he deserve it after falling for all that romantic bullshit?  But instead of being happy, I found myself wanting to strangle the strolling violinist.  Who the fuck is he to disappoint Justin?  Hasn't he been disappointed enough? And that's the real issue.  I don't want anyone else disappointing Justin.  I did it enough;  I hurt him enough.  Hell, half the time I did it on purpose.  But he knew what he was getting into with me.  I made sure he went in with his eyes wide open.  Any illusions he developed about my character were his problem, not mine.  I won't apologize for anything I did to him, but God help anyone else who hurts him.  It might be fucked up, but that's how I feel.  He doesn't deserve to be hurt anymore.  Between his family and me, he's been damaged enough.  No one else gets a free shot at him.  Not even Mikey. Mikey, half that conversation could have been avoided if he had just told me Justin and the fiddler had broken up.  It's not like he didn't know.  The more I thought about it, the more it pissed me off.  Which led to an interesting little confrontation at Woody's the other night: "I ran into Justin then other day." He had been watching the door for Ben, but the mention of Justin's name got his attention.  "Where?" his head snapped back in my direction. "Downtown somewhere, we were both in the same office building," I shrugged. "Oh, I thought maybe he went looking for you," he seemed to relax once he knew it was a chance meeting. "We had a nice little chat.  When the fuck were you going to tell me Justin was no longer the fiddler's greatest fan?  And don't even try to pretend you didn't know.  He's living with your mother for God's sake.  I know she must tell you all about him whether you want to hear it or not.  So what the fuck happened?" "How would I know what happened?  I try not to listen when Ma talks about him.  He probably cheated on Ethan too.  What the fuck do you care?  He's out of your life now.  Why would I tell you anything about him?"  He crossed his arms over his chest.  Mikey always gets defensive when he knows I'm pissed at him. "Oh, I don't know.  You seemed very interested in keeping me updated on Justin's activities a few months ago."  Michael's whole attitude after he saw Justin with Ethan still bothered me.  He never should have interfered in what went on between Justin and me. "That was different.  I was trying to protect you.  You needed to see what he was really like." "I know more about what Justin is really like than you ever will."  This conversation was doing nothing but aggravating me so I decided to switch gears.  It was Mikey's turn on the hot seat.  "So when is the next issue of Rage coming out?" I could practically see the wheels turning in his head over that change of subject.  Finally he gathered himself enough to answer, "I'm not sure.  I have to find a new artist first." That floored me.  I thought he would bitch about working with Justin.  Maybe even tell me there wouldn't be a next issue.  But I never thought he'd seriously consider replacing Justin.  "Are you out of your fucking mind?  Do you honestly think you can find an artist who can draw Rage the way Justin can; who will understand Rage the way Justin does?  You are not getting a new artist." "It's not up to you.  I am not working with that lying cheating bastard." I could almost hear the "and you can't make me" following that statement.  I rolled my eyes at him, "Jesus Christ, Mikey will you grow up already.  Justin didn't do anything to you.  And what happened between us is none of your business.  I'm going to tell you the same thing I told him.  Rage is your dream; don't fuck it up.  And don't sell it short by doing some half assed job because you're mad at Justin.  Rage deserves better, and so do you.  Find a way to work with Justin."  Ben choose that moment to walk in allowing me to make a well-timed exit.  "Enjoy your evening with Buddha, but don't forget what I said." Looking back on it, what bothers me is how Michael kept harping on the idea that Justin cheated on me.  Even at the time, he seemed so angry about it.  I don't know why.  All he saw was Justin kissing Ethan, and he didn't know about the no kissing rule.  I never discussed any of that with him.  He certainly knew I was still fucking other guys.  He watched me go to the backroom with countless men and never batted an eyelash, but he sees Justin kissing someone and it's a federal offence?  It makes no sense. Maybe that's what bothered me about what Justin said to me.  He seemed to think I would enjoy badmouthing him with the fiddler.  Like I'd let the piece of shit say one bad thing about Justin.  But Justin seemed to expect it.  He called himself an ungrateful shit.  It was like he was placing all the blame for both breakups on himself.  What kind of bullshit is that?  Is that how he sees things?  He can't possibly think that everything that happened between us was his fault.  I could have stopped all of it if I wanted to.  His leaving was my choice, and it wasn't because of anything he did. But the more I think about it, everyone seems to blame him.  All the same people who bitched at me for not treating him better were the first ones to rush to me with sympathy when he left.  Instead of being glad Justin finally had enough sense to leave the Big Bad Wolf, they were all appalled that he actually left me.  They fussed over me and my imaginary broken heart, but acted like Justin didn't exist.  Except for Debbie, she's the only one who realized that whatever went wrong between us, we both played a part in it.  The rest of them are hung up on the image of Justin leaving the party with Ethan.  Somehow that is the great betrayal even though I was fucking Rage in the backroom.  They can't believe Justin would dare cheat on the great Brian Kinney. But did he?  Was it even possible for him to cheat on me considering how open things were between us?  I know we had the rules, but those were for him.  I agreed to them so he'd feel a little more secure about his place in my life without me having to make some big declaration of love.  I never cared about what Justin did with other guys.  He could have fucked Ethan fifty times for all I cared as long as he kept his heart out of it.  But that's Justin's problem.  He still can't separate sex and emotion.  He wants it all tied together with a neat little bow.  The only time he ever really tricked was with me.  He could focus his emotions on me, and all the other guy got was sex.  I can take the sex by itself any time, but Justin can't.  That's how he ended up breaking the rules in the first place.  He felt guilty about taking that sweet frat boy's virginity, and he ended up kissing him.  I know Justin; he couldn't stand for it to be impersonal.  And he had to justify running around with Ethan behind my back by convincing himself he had feelings for him.  It couldn't be about sex and attraction; it had to be about all the emotional things Ethan offered him. I guess you could say he cheated on me emotionally.  He let his feelings get involved in something that should have been purely physical.  He never belonged to me physically; the fact that I survived his blessedly short career as a go-go dancer is proof of that.  He could share his body with anyone he wanted to, but the rest of him belonged to me.  That's where he failed me.  He let Ethan have more than just his body.  Or at least he thought he did.  Now I'm not so sure.  He said he never let Ethan close enough to hurt him.  What the hell kind of relationship is that?  If Justin cared at all about him, Ethan would have been able to hurt him without trying.  So if he couldn't cheat on me physically, and he never really gave himself to Ethan emotionally, how did we end up here?  As much as I want to believe I don't care; I do.  Suddenly I need to know what he thinks.  I pick up the phone and dial a still familiar number. "Hello." I freeze for a second when I first hear his voice.  "Why did you leave?"  No point in wasting time with pleasantries.  Let's get right to the point. "Brian?" he asks confusion evident in his voice. "Who the hell else would it be?   Don't you ever use your caller ID?  Now answer the question. Why did you leave?"  I can't bring myself to say ‘why did you leave me.' "Because you didn't want me to stay." "So it wasn't because of" "Ethan, no it really wasn't about him," he answers before I can finish the question. "Goodnight Sunshine," I say softly and hang up the phone.  I shouldn't have called him.  He didn't tell me anything I didn't already know.  He left because I didn't want him to stay.  He said it quietly, but with certainly.  Like there is no doubt in his mind that I wanted him to leave.  I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. Doubting Thomases (Justin's POV) I was working on a painting when my cell phone rang.  Irritated at the interruption, I grabbed it and answered without looking at it.  I wasn't prepared for the voice I heard on the other end.   "Why did you leave?"  "Brian?" I asked more out of shock that he was asking the question than any doubt about who it was. "Who the hell else would it be?   Don't you ever use your caller ID?  Now answer the question.  Why did you leave?"  He was already getting impatient.  I could hear it in his voice. "Because you didn't want me to stay."  That's really the best answer I can give him.  Brian made it clear it was time for me to go.  I would have found a way to stay if I thought for a second it was what he wanted. "So it wasn't because of" I don't let him finish that sentence.  I'm not sure if I'm more afraid that he would remember Ethan's name or that he wouldn't.  Either way, I decide to interrupt him.  "Ethan, no it really wasn't about him." "Goodnight Sunshine."  His voice gets all quiet and almost gentle.  Then he hangs up the phone, and I'm left sitting there wondering what the hell just happened.  I'm tempted to call him back and demanded to know why he called, but I know Brian.  He already regrets calling me so he would try to pass the whole thing off as nothing. But it's not nothing, at least not to me.  I'm amazed Brian would even ask the question.  He should know why I left; maybe better than I do.  I've always known in some way he orchestrated the whole thing.  He may not have arranged for me to meet Ethan, but as I said it was never really about him.  I would have been gone sooner or later; Brian saw to that.  I'm not blaming Brian for what happened between us.  I'm just finally accepting that my leaving was what he wanted.  All Ethan did was make it easier for me to see that. Which is why I don't understand how for one second Brian could think I left him for Ethan.  One thing Brian never lacked was confidence.  He should know Ethan could never compete with him.  I practically begged Brian to let me know he was still interested.  He had to realize what was going on.  He had to realize that one sign from him, and I would have forgotten Ethan ever existed.  So why ask the question? What if Brian doesn't know; where does that leave me?  If Brian didn't push me out the door, why did I leave?  I said it was because Brian didn't want me to stay, but maybe that's not true.  Maybe I am trying to push the blame onto Brian instead of admitting I failed.  It's easier to believe Brian didn't want me than to accept that I couldn't make it work.  The one thing I wanted more than anything in the world, and I walked away.  I told my parents all I wanted was to be with Brian, and it was true.  I always thought if I wanted something badly enough, I could find a way to have it.  So how the hell did I end up here? I never thought being with Brian would be easy.  I'm not stupid.  And it's not like everyone didn't try to warn me.  And I mean everyone.  I can't think of a single person who ever believed Brian and I could make our relationship work, including Brian.  But that never bothered me because I believed.  I thought I believed enough for everyone.  I thought I could see something in Brian no one else did.  All Brian's friends were so sure they knew exactly who he was, they never gave him a chance to become something else.  I wanted more from him, and amazingly enough, sometimes I got it.  And since I wasn't conditioned to see Brian as an uncaring asshole, I saw through a lot of his games.  I still can't believe no one realized he pushed Michael into David's arms, that he gave up Gus because he loves him, that he saved Lindsay and Melanie's wedding because he wanted them to have their perfect day.  I knew Brain was capable of love.  But I guess when it came to being in love, I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. There was a time when I didn't just think Brian loved me, I knew he did.  And there was nothing in the world that could have made me leave him.  After Gus's birthday party, after we made love that night, I felt closer to Brian than I ever had.  There was a kindness and gentleness in him that for once he didn't try to hide.  He wasn't trying to disguise his feelings.  I could feel how much he cared for me.  Things were good for a long time after that.  Brian showed me over and over again that he loved me.  I can remember him walking down Liberty Avenue with me when he was helping me get used to crowds again.  He wasn't worried about anyone seeing him hold my hand or put his arm around me.  He made me feel safe when nothing else could.  And then there was Pride.  Trying to replace the dance I lost was probably the sweetest thing Brian ever did for me.  After Brian fell asleep that night, I stayed up for along time just looking at him.  I remember thinking that it didn't matter if Brian could ever tell me he loved me.  I had seen it in the way he looked at me, and that was all I needed.  I was so sure that as long as I knew he loved me everything would work out.  But instead it all fell apart.  I wasn't strong enough to live without the words.  I couldn't believe enough for both of us.  I'm not sure when I started doubting him.  Maybe it was when Michael told me he kept me around out of guilt.  I could never get that idea out of my head.  Everything I  thought of as love was a way for Brian to punish himself.  I should have been so happy when he came after me.  Instead, I came up the stupid rules.  They were my way of making Brian prove he wanted me.  But the damage was done.  Everything he did took on such significance.  I was constantly judging his actions.  Looking for proof that he loved me or that he didn't.  More and more he started showing me that he didn't. Looking back, I think I really gave up after he destroyed the drawings of Rage.  He knew how hard I had fought to get my art back.  In so many ways, he was the one who gave it back to me.  Which is why it hurt so much that he would do that.  I don't think he ever understood exactly what he did.  Sure he apologized; he even said he was jealous of the time Michael and I were spending together.  But he never realized why I was so upset.  Brian had hurt me before.  But it was usually about him.  Mostly, he would hurt me to protect his own feelings.  But this was different.   He watched me struggle to find a way to draw again.  He knew more than anyone what it meant to me.  But he was willing to take it away from me.  He did take it away from me.  I guess what that told me was when Brian lashed out, nothing was off limits.  He'd go right for the jugular and never give it a second thought. Nothing was the same after that.  There was my birthday, Vermont.  In other circumstances, they wouldn't have mattered so much.  I would have either told Brian how I felt or just let it go.  But I couldn't stop listening to the voice in my head telling me Brian didn't give a fuck.  Somehow it became about pride.  I wouldn't let Brain see how disappointed I was.  I didn't want to give him anything to use against me.  As soon as I started worrying about protected myself, I started moving away from Brian. That's when Ethan came along.  He told me everything I wanted to hear; he offered me all things Brian never would.  He had a way of constantly reminding me of all the things Brian didn't give me.  I never told him about all the things Brian did do for me.  For some reason, I couldn't remember them when I was with Ethan.  I think I was glad Brian found out about Ethan.  I felt like I would finally know how he felt about me.  It was our moment of truth.  If he wanted me, he would have to tell me.  I didn't get the answer I wanted. Until that day, a part of me still believed.  I hadn't completely given up on the idea that Brian loved me.  There was a song I heard once that said "hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of."* That's what I was doing.  I stood there and told Brian Ethan love me, but I still gave Brian an out.  I said Ethan loved me in ways Brian couldn't.  I was just like Michael; finding ways to make excuses for him.  Clinging to the thought that Brian did love me; he just didn't know how to show it.  Trying to convince myself that he gave me everything he could and that it could be enough.  But Brian shattered that illusion.  He looked at me and told me Ethan loved me in ways that he wouldn't.  In that second, all the fight went out of me.  Brian told me he could love me if he wanted to, but he didn't.  It was his choice not to love me.  He wasn't being held back by his past; he just didn't want me.  No matter how much I believed, I couldn't make Brian love me. So why did I leave?  I guess I should have told him it was because I gave up. I couldn't hold on tight enough.  I couldn't hold it together by myself.  I hate to admit it, but I did fail.  I stopped believing in Brian and I.  And once we both stopped believing, we never stood a chance.  But what did I give up on?  Did Brian love me, and I just stopped being able to see it?  Or did I just stop seeing what I wanted to see and started actually listened to what Brian was telling me?  It doesn't matter anymore.  All I know is that I gave up on Brian.  I gave up on us. *lyrics from Praying  for Time by George Michael Risk Your Health For Me (Brian's POV) I've been accused more than once of being a control freak.  I guess there is some truth in that.  I like things to go a certain way, my way.  But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop today from happening.  I did, however, manage the next best thing.  I made it perfectly clear to everyone that no one was to call me or attempt to see me today, and under no circumstances was anyone to mention the significance of the day.  In exchange, I allowed a small birthday celebration at Woody's last night.  I may not have been able to stop today from happening, but I could keep it from meaning anything. So far the only person having any trouble with my orders is me.  That's why it's after eight, and I'm still at the office going over contracts.  It's so quiet now that everyone is gone.  I sent Cynthia home at noon after making her cry for the first time in years.  I should leave, but I can't think of anywhere to go.  There's always Woody's or Babylon, but I have a suspicion the boys might be keeping an eye out for me there.  I could head back to the loft for a nice bottle of Jim Beam and pray that Mikey has enough sense not to be waiting for me.  For some reason, I don't feel like getting drunk.  I can control the memories better when I'm sober.  Drunk, too much slips in – his smile, the kiss.  Things I can't allow myself to remember.  It's bad enough I can hear myself call his name; I can hear the bat connect with.  Fuck!  I am not going to do this again! I'm saved from my thoughts when my cell phone rings.  I feel a flash of fear when I realize after the lecture I gave last night no one would be calling unless it was an emergency.  I answer cautiously. "Brian, have you seen him?"  I hear Debbie's panicked voice and wish I hadn't answered. "Debbie, I told you to leave me alone." "Listen here you fucking asshole, I don't have time for your games right now. So set aside whatever you're drinking or fucking and pay attention.  Have you seen Justin today?" I know she's upset so I try not to snap at her, but this is exactly the conversation I wanted to avoid.  "No, I haven't seen him.  I'm the last person he'd be with." "He left this morning, and we haven't heard from him all day.  Neither have his mother or Daphne.  What if something happened to him?" "Debbie, calm down," I really can't deal with hysterical women.  "I'm sure he's fine.  He probably just wants to be alone."  "Brian."  I don't like the way she says my name.  She takes a deep breath before speaking again.  "He's having nightmares again.  He calls for you." "Fuck!  Why didn't you tell me?" "He told me not to.  He said it was no big deal."  She sighs again.  "But Brian, I'm worried about him.  I don't think he's as strong as we pretend he is." I wish she would stop talking.  I can feel the walls closing in on me.  This is more than I need to know, more than I can stand to know.  And now she expects me to fix something I fucked up so royally in the first place.  There is nothing I can do; there never has been, but once again, I'm forced to try. "I'll look for him, but no promises.  I'm sure he's fine." "Oh thank you, Brian.  I knew I could count on you." I manage not to laugh at her before hanging up the phone.  When has anyone really been able to count on me?  Especially Justin.  Unfortunately, I'm all he's got.  No one else even knows where to begin.  It's been two months since the night I called him.  Since then, we've run into each other three or four times.  But I've heard his name mentioned more often on Liberty Avenue so I have a few ideas of where he may have gone.  I find him on my third try.  He's at one of the quieter bars on Liberty, one where people actually come to drink more than cruise.  I see him at a table in the back.  Empty shot glasses in front of him, and a full one in his hand. When he notices me walking toward him, he throws the shot back and smiles.  It's a bitter smile, and I want more than anything to turn away. "Brian, come join me.  We can have a toast." "Justin," I push his hand down before he can get anyone's attention.  The last thing he needs is another drink. "Come on, we really need to have a toast.  Of course, Chris should be here.  I wonder if I have his number?  This really isn't his kind of place, but he needs to be here.  We can't celebrate without him.  And don't tell me there's nothing to celebrate."  He turns his bitter, pain filled eyes on me. "Justin, stop this.  Please."  I hate that I added the please, but I can't stand this.  I could never stand to watch him in pain.  There is something so wrong about it.  He was supposed to be the golden child, the one who had everything.  He was never supposed to learn to suffer the way he did. "But there's so much to drink to.  It was my very own personal version of Dickens.  You know the whole ‘it was the best of times, it was the worst of times' thing.  All in the space of an hour.  But I don't remember the best of times part," he falls silent then. Justin looks like he's about to cry, and just this once I want to cry with him.  How cruel is it that all he can remember of that night is the end?  He told me it was the best night of his life, and it's gone.  All that's left of what was supposed to be a ridiculously romantic night is the tragic ending.  More Shakespeare that Dickens if you ask me.  Justin can't remember anything else, and I won't allow myself to.  All he has is the pain, and all I have is the fear and his blood.  Everything good about that night, the happiness, the joy, the love, is gone.  Obliterated from his memory and buried too deep in mine.  It would be different if Justin remembered. I know that.  He would make me remember the good parts.  He would help me feel them again, but he can't.  And I've never known how to share them with him. He's staring into space, lost in his own world.  I take advantage of his distraction to stand him up.  After throwing some money on the table, I herd him out of the bar to the jeep.  He gets in quietly and closes his eyes.  On the way to the loft, I call Debbie and tell her I have Justin.  She doesn't ask for any details, and I don't offer any.  What would I say? Justin doesn't say a word to me the whole ride or on our way up to the loft.  We are sitting on the couch before he ever really even looks at me.  Finally, he speaks, "Brian why am I here?" I don't have an answer for him so I ask a question of my own.  "Tell me about your nightmares."  He looks surprised, and I can't blame him.  I never wanted to know before.  I always told him to forget them, to go back to sleep.  But it's different this time.  I need to know what's driving him. He looks away before answering.  I can tell he's seeing them.  "It's like what I remember only different.  I hear you call me, but your voice sounds funny, far away.  When I turn around, I can't see you.  You're not there, and I'm looking for you.  That's when Chris hits me.  Then I can't see anything; I just hurt.  I can't move; I can't see.  I'm waiting for you to come to me, but you never do.  You're not there.  I want to call you, but I can't." The pain in my chest is crushing me.  I haven't felt pain like this since that night.  Since I saw him laying there with all that blood.  He thinks I would leave him there alone.  I can handle him thinking any horrible thing about me, but that.  I couldn't, I would never leave him.  I open my mouth, but no words come out.  Justin is just sitting there looking so lost it breaks my heart even more.  He has to know I would never have left him there. I gather him in my arms like I did them.  Only this time he isn't lifeless; this time he can hear me say his name.  I hold him tightly to my chest, and I can't imagine how I'll ever let him go.