Too Deep For Healing by deviant_queen
Summary:

Ten years post-513. Justin returns to Pittsburgh after a decade of absence due to a death in the family, only to receive some disturbing news.


Categories: QAF US Characters: Brian Kinney, Claire Kinney, Daphne Chanders, Debbie Novotny, Gus Marcus-Peterson, Jennifer Taylor, Justin Taylor, Lindsay Peterson, Melanie Marcus, Michael Novotny, Original Male Character
Tags: 10k+ Word Count, Anal Sex (Lots of it!), Bottom Brian, Brian/Other, Cancer, Death, Drug Use - Recreational, Family, HIV/Aids, Minor Character Death, Post-series, Real Life Issues, Substance Abuse, Tearjerker, Toppy Justin, Vulnerable Brian, What if...
Genres: Alternate Universe, Could be Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Pairings: Brian/Justin
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 16 Completed: Yes Word count: 44838 Read: 26222 Published: Aug 07, 2017 Updated: Aug 22, 2017
Story Notes:

If you're on LiveJournal and would like to learn useful (additional) information about this story -- such as the medical aspect as well as plans for the future of the fic -- you can add me (deviant_queen), and I'll be happy to add you back. Check under the Too Deep for Healing tags. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing

1. Chapter 1 by deviant_queen

2. Chapter 2 by deviant_queen

3. Chapter 3 by deviant_queen

4. Chapter 4 by deviant_queen

5. Chapter 5 by deviant_queen

6. Chapter 6 by deviant_queen

7. Chapter 7 by deviant_queen

8. Chapter 8 by deviant_queen

9. Chapter 9 by deviant_queen

10. Chapter 10 by deviant_queen

11. Chapter 11 by deviant_queen

12. Chapter 12 by deviant_queen

13. Chapter 13 by deviant_queen

14. Chapter 14 by deviant_queen

15. Chapter 15 by deviant_queen

16. Epilogue by deviant_queen

Chapter 1 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

 

The unforgiving winter chill of the Pittsburgh evening splits through me like a knife as I stand alone, staring at the name I never imagined in a million years I’d see on a headstone.  I blink back the tears threatening to fall as I think back on the last ten years. I never thought I’d come back here, but when I heard the news I couldn’t help but get on the first plane back home.



Home. That’s what this place was for 21 years of my life. Now it seems like a distant memory, filled with pain, sadness, happiness, laughter, tears, rejection, acceptance, and love all at once. After nearly a decade of convincing myself, I was so much happier now than I was then, it’s painfully ironic how much I miss it all now; my family, my friends, my life, and…him. Always him.



It would be a lie to say that I haven’t been happy, for the most part, since I left. The first year or so was rocky, to say the least, but things quickly settled into a routine for me, and I shouldn’t have any complaints. I made it. Justin Taylor, famous artiste. My work is in shows all over the states and I’ve done well for myself. I have my own penthouse apartment in Chelsea, a few decent friends, and the long distance love and support of my mother and sister.



But for some unknown reason, I feel like a complete and utter failure as I stand here in this vacant cemetery as the sun begins to set on the distant horizon. I wish I could’ve been there, could’ve helped, could’ve at least said goodbye. It’s too late for that, though, and I have no one to blame but myself. I should’ve kept in touch, I shouldn’t have had to hear the news from my mom, I should’ve been one of the first to know when it happened.



“Hey Deb,” I whisper. I clear my throat in an attempt to keep myself together. I shut my eyes tightly as the tears begin to fall down my cheeks. I can’t do this. I just can’t –



Suddenly I hear footsteps slowly approaching, the crunch of the leaves and rustle of the grass telling me someone was close. I jump in surprise and turn quickly at the sound.  The first thing I see is his eyes. Those way-too-familiar piercing hazel eyes that still haunt my dreams on a nightly basis. He reaches up to brush a few strands of his dark windblown hair from his flawless face as he stops to stand in front of me and I nearly gasp.



“Hi,” he says, sounding unsure. I find myself unable to speak. I realize that I must look like an idiot, staring at him with wide eyes, mouth parted in a silent attempt to force out some semblance of a response. When it becomes apparent that I’m not going to say anything, he continues, “I’m sorry, do I know you?”



“Gus,” I blurt out, surprised to hear my own voice. He nods slightly, even though it wasn’t a question, as he searches my face. For a second, I almost see recognition cross his handsome features, but it’s quickly replaced with confusion and question.



He’s tall, already a couple of inches taller than me, and slim. At sixteen years old, his shoulders have begun to broaden and his arms and chest look well-defined, perhaps from playing a sport or maybe hitting the gym already. His skin is bronzed and flawless, his lips full and pink, and those eyes. Christ, the resemblance is uncanny and I have to catch my breath before speaking again.



“No, you don’t know me. You used to, though, a long time ago,” I tell him.



“Oh? Who are you?” he asks, almost as if he doesn’t believe me.



“I’m…,” I struggle to find the right words, the right way to verbalize exactly who I am to him, or who I used to me. “I’m an old friend of your dad’s.”



“A friend?” he questions. “What’s your name?”



I almost don’t tell him. What if he tells Brian I’m in town? As hard as it is for me to see Gus for the first time in so long, I can’t imagine how hard it would be to see Brian. I’m not sure which was worse; the thought of Brian wanting to see me again, or the thought of him not wanting to. I couldn’t blame him, of course. Our distance is also my fault. “I’m Justin,” I finally say, after a couple minutes of silence.



For a second his eyes widen in recognition of my name, but that quickly changes as his eyes harden. “What are you doing here?” he asks me.



“I – I came to see Deb. She was like a second mother to me, you know?” I stutter, wondering what he’s thinking, what he’ll say next.



“No, I don’t know,” he states quickly, shaking his head. No, he doesn’t. He was probably too young to remember me, or my relationship with Debbie, but I don’t think that was the message he was trying to send me. His voice was sharp, with an edge that I couldn’t quite place.



I pause. “Oh – well, um.. H – how’s Brian?” I want to know. I need to know. I can’t leave for New York without at least knowing how he’s doing, if he’s okay.



He shakes his head, and for some unknown reason, my stomach tightens. Oh God, please tell me something happened to Brian. Surely I would’ve heard if something like that happened. I wait for him to speak. “He’s…not so good,” he pauses. “Not that it’s any of your business.”



His anger shocks me. I don’t know what he’s heard about me, but I’m sure it’s all true. I’m fully aware of how much I hurt Brian when I left. And what I did after the fact was only that much worse. I can’t imagine the things that have been told to Gus about what an asshole I am. He should be mad at me; he has every right to be. I could almost sense his closeness to Brian, almost like protectiveness over him. I hurt his dad, and it pissed him off, even after all these years.



Wait, he said that Brian wasn’t ‘so good’. I have to know what that meant. Was he hurt? Was he sick? Or worse? “What do you mean? What’s wrong with him?” Please tell me, please –



He finally speaks again. “He’s…sick,” he finally says.



“Sick? Is it --,” I struggle with the words, saying the first thing that comes to mind, “Is it cancer again, or –“



His eyes narrow slightly. “Something like that, yeah.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shakes his head in annoyance. He’s wondering why I give a shit. If I didn’t care ten years ago, why would I care now? God, if he only fucking knew how much I care.



Cancer. The tears well back up in my eyes and I shake my head in disbelief. How did I not know? I feel like I’m going to throw up, but I swallow hard, “Gus, please –“



He cuts me off. “Listen, maybe I should give you a couple of minutes to say goodbye to Deb so you can scamper on home.” He starts to back away from me. Almost in a panic, I reach out to touch his arm to keep him from leaving but he pulls away from me as if being burned.



“Gus, I know what you must think of me. I did a lot of shitty things to your dad, and I’m sure I’m not your favorite person,” he scoffs. “But you have to tell me what’s going on.”



“I don’t have to tell you anything! Why do you even care? Just go home. Don’t worry about Dad, his well-being doesn’t concern you any more,” he tells me, raising his voice at me for the first time.



“You’re right. You don’t have to tell me. But please, is – is he going to be okay?” I plead with him.



“No, he’s not. He’s dying,” he blurts it out quickly, almost like an insult, like he’s trying to hurt me. It worked.



“Dying? No, no, that can’t be right,” I refuse to believe he’s telling me the truth.  It’s impossible. He’s Brian fucking Kinney. He’s going to be okay, he has to be okay, Brian can fight anything.



“Well, it is. He has Kaposi’s Sarcoma,” he tells me, his voice softer now, sounding more sad than angry all of a sudden.



That stops me in my tracks. I shake my head again. No. “But – Kaposi’s Sarcoma, that’s a cancer you get when you have –“ I trail off, unable to say the word.



He nods. “AIDS.”



All of a sudden, I can’t breathe.

Chapter 2 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

No. No. No. No. NO!



My chest heaves as tears start running freely down my face and I slump to the ground in front of Deb’s headstone because my legs can’t seem to hold me up. This can’t be happening. It’s just a nightmare. I must’ve fallen asleep on the airplane. I’m not in Pittsburgh yet, I’m not in this cemetery, Gus isn’t really here, and it’s all just a dream. A fucking awful, horrible dream. Brian’s fine, he’s okay. I shut my eyes tight and will myself to wake up. When I open my eyes again, I’m still here. I’m still in Pittsburgh, sitting in front of Debbie’s grave, nearly hyperventilating and on the verge of sobbing with Gus standing over me.



I assume Gus has just been watching me for a few minutes while I try like hell to regain my composure, and then he slowly stoops down onto his knees next to me on the ground, then reaches out and touches my arm. “Hey,” he begins. “Listen, I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realize you still – I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t have told you like that.”



I look up at him when I hear his voice catch in his throat. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears and I feel a sudden urge to hug him. This sixteen-year-old boy is dealing with the fact that his father is sick and dying of AIDS and I’m the one falling apart in front of him. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now.  Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m feeling. I can’t seem to wrap my mind around what’s happening right now and the tears continue to dampen my face.



I shake my head at him. “No, Gus, I understand how you must feel about me,” I manage to choke out through my tears and heavy breathing. I still can’t seem to catch my breath.  “I just – I don’t understand. Brian was always so careful. I just don’t --,” I stop. I feel myself losing control of my body again. I need to calm down.



He takes a deep breath. “I probably shouldn’t tell you all the details. It’s not for me to say.”



I nod because I understand.  I need to be alone. I need to figure out what I’m going to do next. But I can’t seem to pick myself up off the ground. I take a few deep breaths and close my eyes, trying to think. The only thing I can think is that I want to see him. I feel like I need to talk to him, to hear it from his mouth before I can really understand it.



Before Gus showed up, I had no intentions of seeing Brian while I’m in Pittsburgh. I just wanted to come pay my respects to Debbie, visit my mom, and head back to New York without another thought. I should’ve known better.



Maybe Brian wants to see me too.



Yeah, not fucking likely.



I hear myself speaking before I can even process what I’m saying. “Can I see him?”



Gus hesitates. “I don’t know,” he states simply.



“Please, Gus. I have to see him. Please,” I ask again. I wonder how sick he is. Is he still at the loft? Is he at the hospital or at the AIDS hospice? The thought of Brian being alone all day sick in a hospital bed makes me feel nauseous.



“He wouldn’t like it,” he tells me. I nod. I knew it, he doesn’t want to see me. He hates me. “I mean, he wouldn’t want you to see him like that. He --,” he pauses for a few seconds. “Let’s just say he isn’t the way you probably remember him. I don’t want him to be pissed at me for bringing you home with me. And the doctors keep saying he doesn’t need any stress right now.”



“Home?” I ask. “You live with him?” Gus nods. “At the loft?”



He nods again. “Yeah, I’ve been kind of – taking care of him, I guess. Just staying with him, really. He doesn’t have anyone else, so --”



My eyebrows furrow. “What about Michael -- and Lindsay?” I ask, confused. I can’t imagine Michael not being with Brian twenty-four hours a day if he thought Brian needed it, and the same goes for Lindsay.



He shakes his head. “My moms still live in Canada. They let me come here and go to school so I could live with Dad a couple of years ago. They actually – don’t know about his diagnosis. He hasn’t told them.” I’m not surprised by that. Considering what happened when he found out he had cancer the first time, it’s predictable that he’d want to keep this a secret too.  “And Michael – Well, he had a hard time finding out about Dad’s HIV status. He comes and visits sometimes, but I think it’s too hard for him. You know, because of Ben and Hunter. I don’t know –,” he trails off.



Lindsay, Mel, Michael, Ben, Hunter – their names take me back ten years ago. I feel like I don’t even know them anymore.  I guess I don’t. Brian’s lost everyone close to him except his son, and now at 43 years old, he’s alone and – dying.



“I’m glad he has you,” I tell him. Tears are stinging my eyes again. I should be there with him, taking care of him. But I’m not. This deep feeling of sadness wrapped in guilt fills my body and I bury my head in my hands.



After a few minutes, he stands up and reaches offers his hand to me. I pull myself up off the ground and struggle to regain my balance. “I’m not going to bring you with me to the loft,” he tells me. “But I’ll tell him you’re here if you want me to. Maybe he’ll – want to see you or something.” I nod my consent. “Give me your number and I’ll call you later tonight to let you know what he says, okay?”



I look up at him again. I see so much of Brian in Gus, and my chest tightens at that thought. I give Gus my cell phone number and we part ways. As I watch him drive off in Brian’s Corvette, I just know this is going to be a long night waiting for that call.

__________________________



“Did you see their faces?” I ask him as we walk through the parking garage to his jeep.



“Yeah. We gave them a prom they’ll never forget,” he tells me.



He presses me up against the side of the jeep. “Me neither,” I say. “It was the best night of my life.” And it is. From Brian showing up unexpectedly, to the dance, and the kiss in front of everyone – I feel like I’m in a dream that I never want to leave.



“Even if it was ridiculously romantic.” He smiles. It only lasts for a second, but it’s a smile I’ve never seen before. It isn’t that signature smirk, it’s a real, unguarded smile and I feel like I’m floating. Life couldn’t get any better than this moment right here. I don’t want it to end.



He leans in to kiss me. He hesitates, though, as if asking permission. He closes the distance between us and as I feel his soft, warm lips brush against mine, I consider asking him to take me back to the loft. I kiss him back and wonder if he would. After an exit like that, I’m ready to leave St. James Academy in the dust.



He interrupts my thoughts when he ends the kiss, pauses, then pulls me away from the jeep by the white silk scarf he put on me. Then I realize I forgot about Daphne. I can’t just leave her here.  “Later,” he tells me and I smile and say it back. I start to walk away, but then turn toward him again and I can’t help but laugh about how crazy that was, about how unbelievably fucking happy I am.



I continue to walk away as I hear the jeep door shut. Maybe I can just go and tell Daphne I’m leaving and then catch Brian before he drives off – my thought is interrupted by Brian’s urgent, “JUSTIN!” I turn, a smile still on my face and then –



I awaken with a start. It takes me a minute to realize where I am before I scramble to grab my phone off the table next to the bed in my hotel room. Fuck, that’s got to be the fifth time I had that dream this month. This time I could almost feel his mouth against mine, feel that happiness beyond anything I’ve felt since that night, then feel the bat make contact –



I shake the thought from my head and flip my phone open. 0 missed calls. I glance at the clock. 7:35AM. Shit, I must’ve fallen asleep. Gus’ call never came last night. I consider calling the old loft number to see if it’s still in service, but quickly decide against it. If Brian answered, I wouldn’t know what to say. I wish I would’ve gotten Gus’ number yesterday. What if he never calls me?



My flight back to New York is tomorrow morning and I refuse to leave without seeing Brian or at least talking to him, one last time. I don’t care if he’s angry at me and forces me to leave, it doesn’t matter. I just need to see his face, touch him again so I know he’s real, and that he’s still there. I want to tell him I’m sorry and that I regret what I did to him. I want to tell him that I love him and I want him to say it back. I want him to tell me that he’s okay, that nothing’s wrong. I want him to kiss me and make all the pain and uncertainty go away. I want him to be the same sarcastic pain-in-the-ass Brian I remember from all those years ago. It’s inconceivable considering what Gus told me, I know, but I want it so bad it hurts.

 


I quickly make my decision. I pull myself out of bed and make my way toward the shower. I’m going to the loft.


Chapter 3 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

 

I’ve been standing in front of the heavy metal door leading to the loft for almost five minutes. I haven’t knocked or made my presence known in any way. I briefly consider turning and going back to the hotel, but before I can chicken out I hear footsteps coming from inside the loft.



The door suddenly begins to slide open, and I’m so fucking relieved that it’s Gus. He looks at me, surprised, and then turns to look back into the loft before quickly shutting the door behind him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he demands, his eyes flashing with anger.

I almost tell him to watch his mouth before I realize it’s not my place. And, to be honest, I wouldn’t have expected this visit if I was him either. It was a last minute, probably stupid, decision that I made on a whim, but there’s no turning back now.

I try to think of what I could say to make myself not seem like an inconsiderate asshole that drops in uninvited at his ex-boyfriend’s house after ten years expecting – I don’t know what I was expecting. “I just – you didn’t call me,” is my lame reply.

He hesitates and his eyes soften slightly. “Yeah, well Dad had a bad night. I haven’t talked to him yet,” he tells me. I nod and I’m about to ask if I should come back later when he begins again. “Listen, maybe this isn’t a good idea.  Maybe it’s best if he doesn’t know you’re here.”

My eyebrows furrow and I shake my head. “What do you mean? I thought you were going to try to get him to see me.”

Gus puts his hands up. “Woah, I never said that. I’m not on your side here. I said I’d tell him you were in town and maybe he’d want to see you,” he sighs, looking slightly annoyed at my persistence. “I think this is a bad idea. He doesn’t need any added stress right now.”

I shake my head again, confused. “Stress? I’m not going to stress him out. I just want to talk to him,” I almost plead.

His eyes narrow. “It’s been, what, ten years? Why now? Tell me this, Sunshine.” My old nickname nearly knocks the breath out of me. No one’s called me Sunshine in years. I wonder how he remembered that. “If I hadn’t told you he’s sick, would you have still come to see him?” he asks.

I feel like I’m in a corner. I don’t know how to respond to that. “I – I don’t know,” I tell him, resigned.

He shakes his head and he almost looks disappointed – disappointed in me? I don’t know. Just disappointed. “I didn’t think so,” he states. “Look, just go home. He’s already had to deal with you leaving once, don’t make him do it again. He’s not strong enough to handle it right now. He needs to focus on himself. This isn’t about you, it’s about him.” His voice doesn’t have that same edge it had a minute ago. I realize that he really just wants me to leave and never come back.

My head drops. “I know. I know that.” If Gus only knew how much I cared about Brian – hell, care about him still. I just want him to be okay. But then again, I can’t help him. There’s nothing I can do if what Gus told me is the truth.  Maybe I would stress him out. I wouldn’t want to hurt him by leaving again. Maybe Gus is right, he’s not strong enough to take this. Maybe I’d be doing more harm than good. Maybe –

“Gus, who the fuck are you talking to out here?” I jump at the sound of his voice and as the loft door begins to open I almost make a run for it, but I can’t seem to move. My heart starts beating rapidly and I grab a quick look at Gus and see the same panic I probably have in my eyes mirrored in his. But there’s nothing either of us can do because, before we know it, Brian is standing in the doorway in front of us.

My breath catches in my throat. Oh God, I didn’t prepare myself for this. As I look at the man I called my lover for the better part of six years, I can barely recognize him. He must’ve lost a good twenty pounds. His skin is pale and the dark circles under his eyes make me wonder if he’s been sleeping at all lately. His hair is a bit longer than it was the last time I saw him, but it isn’t styled to perfection like it always used to be. It’s unruly and lies against his forehead as if he’s been sweating. Gus mentioned he had a bad night, but I never imagined I’d see Brian like this. He looks so sick – so fucking miserable. My chest tightens and I fight to keep myself from becoming an emotional wreck in front of him.

His eyes cut from Gus to me, lingers there, then back to Gus again. “What the fuck is going on?” he asks. He isn’t speaking as loud as I would’ve imagined, and his voice is gravelly and rough. Maybe from vomiting all night, I’m not sure, but it barely sounds like him. He sounds tired and weak, and maybe even a little out of breath.

“Nothing, Dad,” Gus begins. “Justin just –“ he stops. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain my being here. And it doesn’t matter anyway because Brian begins again.

“Gus, go to school. You’re already late as fuck.” He’s not even looking at Gus anymore, though. He’s staring at me with an expression on his face that I’ve never seen on him before. Confused, shocked, hurt, and maybe a little embarrassed all at once.

I shouldn’t have come. Gus is right; Brian doesn’t need this bullshit right now. He’s too weak to deal with it. Hell, it doesn’t look like he could deal with much of anything right now. I can’t leave now, though. He already knows I’m here, that I’ve been talking to his son. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

“But Dad –“ Gus begins. I know he wants to stay and referee, or maybe just make sure I get the fuck out of his and his dad’s life. I’m not sure, but I know he doesn’t want to leave me alone with Brian. He doesn’t trust me.

Brian cuts him off, “Go. Now.” His demeanor enters dad-mode, and I think Gus knows there’s nothing else he can say. He sighs and glances back at me with a look that could kill. He’s beyond pissed at me and I sense the silent warning he’s sending my way.

The close connection between Gus and his dad is palpable, and I know that if I upset Brian, it’s Gus I’ll have to deal with. I want to tell him that I’m not going to say anything to hurt Brian, that I’d never do that, but before I can say or do anything, he turns and leaves down the stairs without another word.

All of a sudden, Brian and I are alone, and my panic rises. I don’t know what he’s going to say – if he’s going to yell, or ask me to leave; if he’ll invite me in, as if I never left, and tell me everything I’m dying to know. We just stand there, looking at each other for a long moment before I decide to speak. “Hi Brian,” I try. Real articulate, I know, but I honestly don’t think I could’ve said anything else at this moment.

He blinks. “What are you doing here?” he asks softly. I can’t tell if he’s mad, or hurt, or maybe even relieved. His face is a mask – a mask I’m very familiar with, but a mask that’s impossible for anyone to read.

Ok Justin, time to form a complete sentence. I take a deep breath and begin to explain myself. “I, uh – my mom told me what happened to Debbie. I came to – say goodbye, I guess. You know, pay my respects?”

He nods slightly. “I meant what are you doing here?” I know what he was asking now. He wants to know why I’m at his loft, standing in front of him right now.

I decided to just tell him the truth. What’s the worst that could happen? He could kick me out, sure, but I’ve been there done that a couple times before. “I went to visit her grave and ran into Gus. I knew it was him automatically. He looks just like you, Brian,” I tell him and attempt a small smile. He just stares, waiting for me to continue. “I asked him how you were, and he told me –“ I’m stuck. I don’t know what to say, or maybe I do and I just can’t say it. So I don’t. “I just – I wanted to see you again.”

He breaks eye contact with me and he glances down at himself. He looks uncomfortable, embarrassed. I’ve never seen Brian experience either of those emotions before. I wonder how much he’s changed since I left. I wonder if he’s the same Brian I knew and loved for so many years.

He clears his throat and looks back up at me and spreads his arms slightly. “Well, you’ve seen me,” he says quietly.

“Brian,” I breathe out. “Are you – I mean, is everything –“I struggle to find the right words to say. I sigh, unable to think of anything.

“You want to come in?” he asks me, gesturing toward the inside of the loft.

Did he just invite me in? I look at him and see no sarcasm or anger present in his expression. He really means it. I can’t believe it, but all I can do is smile and nod, relieved. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Chapter 4 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

 

He moves to the side and I enter the loft. He makes sure our bodies don’t come in contact with each other and I’m not sure whether I’m relieved or hurt by the gesture. I don’t know much of anything right now. I have to admit, I’m shocked that Brian actually invited me in. I mean, I wasn’t sure what to expect from him, but I honestly didn’t think it was going to happen this way.


I look around at my surroundings. Everything is exactly the same as I remember it. The furniture is still the same and everything is in its right place, as can be expected from someone like Brian. I keep walking until I’m standing by the island in the kitchen. I turn back and see Brian closing the door. Though he tries to hide it, I see that he has trouble getting the heavy metal door to slide shut.  The thought of him being that weak sends an uneasy chill down my spine. He’s worse off than I expected he’d be.


I take this opportunity to take him in again. His arms are thin and they look fragile. His jeans don’t fit quite as perfectly as they once did, hanging lower on his hips due to the amount of weight he’s lost. His movements are slow and painful to watch. I wonder how long he’s been like this. I feel tears begin to well up in my eyes but I hurriedly blink them away before Brian sees. I take a deep breath as he walks into the kitchen.


“Want a drink or something?” he offers. I shake my head. He leans up against the counter, crosses his arms over his chest, and looks at me, waiting.


What should I say? What can I say? I’m sorry that I’m an asshole. I’m sorry I hurt you – again. I’m sorry you’re sick. Please tell me that you’re going to be okay. Tell me you aren’t going to let his disease take you out just yet. Tell me you’re going to fight like hell to get better. I miss you so bad it hurts. Please forgive me. I love you.


“How are you feeling?” I ask. Not quite what I wanted to say, but it’s probably the best place to start.


“I’m – alive,” he offers with a smirk. That trademark Brian Kinney smirk I’ve seen so many times but could never get sick of. That smirk that, even now, makes me weak in the knees. Underneath the pallor and pain, he’s still beautiful. He always has been and he always will be. There’s no one out there like Brian, no one that can compare. Trust me, I’ve looked.


I nod and offer a small smile. “I’m glad,” I whisper.


He hesitates and the smirk slowly dissipates. “So you said your mom called and told you about Deb?”


“Yeah. I couldn’t believe it. I just remember thinking there must’ve been some mistake. Not Debbie, she’s invincible. I guess I thought she’d live forever,” my voice breaks and I swallow hard to keep myself together. I can’t cry in front of Brian. If I start, I won’t be able to stop. Everything that’s happened in the past 24 hours has my mind reeling. It’s all weighing down on my shoulders and I’m fighting to keep it together, for Brian’s sake.


He nods. “I think we all thought that,” he begins. I can tell he’s still shocked and saddened by her death. Brian and Debbie had a closeness no one else could possibly understand, even me, and I know how much he must miss her. “I told her she was getting too old to be working at the diner, still pulling doubles every night, busting her ass doing fundraisers and rallies for the next gay cause, but she wouldn’t listen. She wore herself out. The doctors said her heart just couldn’t take it anymore. Too many years taking care of everyone else, I guess,” he ends with a sigh.


We’re silent for a moment before I decide I can’t take it anymore. “Did she know about the, um – d-did she know about you?” I ask and I’m sure he knows what I mean. He shakes his head slightly. “Who all knows then?”


He bites his bottom lip and looks at me a minute before answering with a shrug, “Just Gus and Michael,” he sighs again. “And you, apparently,” he adds with a scoff. “I thought that kid of mine could actually keep a secret.”


I don’t laugh. “Well I’m glad he can’t,” I tell him. “I wish I would’ve known sooner –“


“He’s gotten big, huh?” he asks suddenly.


The change of subject happens fast, but it doesn’t go by unnoticed. He’s evading what he knows is coming soon, something he doesn’t want to deal with, questions he doesn’t want to answer. “Who —Oh, Gus? Yeah, I couldn’t believe it. He’s all grown up now,” I shake my head. “Sixteen years old, damn, it seems like just yesterday we were running down the hospital corridor the night he was born.” I offer him a smile as I think back on that day – the day Brian and I met, the day that changed my life forever.


He huffs a laugh and looks down at the counter. I never would’ve thought having a conversation with Brian would be this awkward. It hurts me to see how far we’ve regressed to meaningless conversations set up to avoid getting right to the point. I want us back to the way we used to be, but I know it’s not his fault we’re like this. It’s mine; it’s my decision ten years ago leading up to this very moment I never thought would occur.


I decide it’s time we get to what I want to say to him. “Brian, listen, I want you to know that I’m sorr—“


He throws his head back and sighs dramatically. “Christ! I knew this was coming. Listen, Justin, don’t. Don’t apologize. Sorry’s –“


I cut him off, “Bullshit, I know.” I sigh. “Not this time. I was an asshole. You deserve an apology,” I insist.


He just shakes his head. “All you did was what was best for you at the time. You were looking out for yourself just like I always told you to. You did nothing wrong. “ He pauses, “Congratulations, by the way.”


“Congratulations?” I ask.


He smiles. “You’re a big fat fucking success, just as I expected. You’ve really done well for yourself,” he tells me.


I smile appreciatively. “Thank you. How did you know –“


“I have my ways.” Don’t I know it. “Your recent work is really – amazing, Sunshine,” he adds.


My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “How do you know what my recent work looks like?”


He gestures behind me toward the living room. Hanging on the wall is a piece I painted about a year ago and sold at a show in Geneva six months later. No fucking way. I glance back at Brian. “How did you –“


“I have my ways,” he says again with a small grin. I don’t pry anymore. If I knew Brian was at that show, I’d probably go crazy. Maybe he bought it some other way. I don’t want to think that he was there and I didn’t see him. I can’t believe he’s kept track of me after all this time. Maybe – no, I can’t think that way.


“I just – I wish I would’ve kept in contact with you, at least, but it was too hard. That’s why I ended it the way I did. It was really shitty of me and I can’t imagine how you felt about me back then. I just knew that if I answered your calls and heard your voice, I’d never go through with it. And I couldn’t see you, it would hurt too much.” It’s probably the most awful explanation I can offer, but it’s the only one I have.


For a couple of months after I left for New York, Brian and I talked on the phone daily. I missed him like crazy and he sounded more and more miserable each time I talked to him. I just figured that maybe it’d be better we weren’t tied to each other, if he wasn’t just sitting around waiting for me to come home. I didn’t want him to miss out on anything or feel obligated in any way, and I didn’t know how long I’d be gone. I wanted so badly to come home, but I knew I couldn’t just because I was homesick. I went out there to make it as an artist, and I couldn’t leave until I did just that.


New York was exciting. The people, the clubs, the atmosphere – it was all a bit overwhelming, but in such an amazing way. I guess I got caught up in it and eventually forgot about the people that were most important to me. These people are my family, and they were always in the back of my mind, but I was so young and I don’t think I knew exactly who I was yet. Once I succeeded at my goal, it was too late to come home. I thought everyone would be angry that I cut ties so suddenly. I stopped calling Brian after about two months. At the time, I told myself I was doing it for both of us. Now it seems like the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard of. I wouldn’t answer his calls or his emails and I didn’t come to visit. It only took another month before he gave up. We both knew it was over, and I hadn’t spoken to him again until today.


Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a heartless monster. I still missed Brian, more than I can explain. I think about him and even dream about him on a daily basis. I can’t even count how many times I picked up the phone to call him, but I never went through with it. I’ll admit it, I was a coward. I didn’t want to face the repercussions of my decisions. Once our lines of communication closed, I lost contact with everyone else as well; everyone except my mom.


Looking back on it all, I hate myself for what I did. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but nothing good came out of it. I lost my lover, my friends, and a great deal of my family. Sure, I’m a successful artist now, but there’s no question that I could’ve done that with the support of Brian and everyone else here in Pittsburgh. God, what was I thinking? And now, after everything I did, Brian is being so nice to me. I don’t deserve his kindness. I deserve to be kicked out of his life forever – however long that may be for him. The thought of that alone scares the hell out of me.


“Justin,” Brian’s voice tears me away from my thoughts. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. We never had any locks on our doors. You were always free to leave, and you did. That’s all it was.”


Now that makes me angry. “Oh, come off it Brian. No ties? We almost got married –“


“But we didn’t,” he states simply.


I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you dare try to tell me you didn’t give a shit, or that I didn’t hurt you by what I did.”


He sighs. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he’s starting to look really tired like he could fall asleep standing here in front of me.


“Then what are you saying?” I demand.


“I – I don’t know. I don’t know,” he says. He leans his weight against the counter and I notice his breathing is becoming ragged. He closes his eyes, hangs his head, and takes a deep breath.


Oh, shit. “Brian, are you okay?” I ask, becoming more worried by the second. I reach out to touch his arm but he pulls away before my hand comes in contact with him.


“I’m fine,” he whispers, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.


I don’t believe him. He looks like he’s going to pass out. I silently wonder why he won’t let me touch him, but I decided to respect his wishes and back off. “Come on, let’s sit down,” I offer. I start to back away toward the living room, making sure he’s going to come. He follows me to the sofa, a bit unsteady on his feet. Once he sits, I go back into the kitchen and get a bottle of water from the fridge for him. He takes it when I offer, but doesn’t look me in the eyes. He’s scaring the hell out of me.


“I’m fine,” he tells me again as if he could hear my thoughts.


“Ok,” I quietly agree and take a seat next to him, but not too close. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. I feel like he’s on the verge of running away from me or shutting down emotionally. I really want to finish our conversation.


“What do you want to know?” he asks me after a few minutes of silence. He’s still not looking at me, but he sounds resigned. He’s willing to answer my questions, and for that I’m grateful, but I don’t know where to start.


“Everything,” I tell him. He huffs a laugh. He wants specifics, and my guess is that that’s because he doesn’t want to divulge anything I’m not going to ask him. “When did you find out?”


He’s silent again for awhile. I begin to think he isn’t going to tell me, that he decided to keep the details to himself, but then he starts to talk. “I found out I was positive five years ago. I was fine for awhile, but about a year ago I started noticing some strange symptoms, and that’s when I got diagnosed with AIDS,” he sighs and shakes his head. I decide not to ask about the symptoms; it’s not important. “Pretty ironic, huh? I guess I got what was coming to me after all those years of fucking around.”


I shake my head vehemently, “Brian, no. You didn’t deserve this. It isn’t your fault. You were one of the most careful people I knew. You never fucked anyone without a condom. I mean, it was you that taught me how important that was.” He can’t possibly believe he deserves AIDS.


“Yeah, and look where I am now. I obviously wasn’t careful enough,” he tells me. Always the logical one, he’s not going to let me convince him otherwise. “I just want you to know that – it happened after you. I wasn’t positive while you were here, so you don’t have to worry –“


“Shut up,” I cut him off. “I’m not worried about me. This isn’t about me.”


“I didn’t even get it from fucking,” he tells me with a humorless laugh. “I got it – I got it from a used needle. I didn’t know it had already been used, but –“


“Wait, a needle? What were you using a needle for?” I ask, confused.


He finally looks at me. “Does it matter?” he asks quietly. I shake my head. No, I guess it doesn’t. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. Not even your mom; I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t need anyone else pitying me or fawning over me. I get enough of that from Gus,” he huffs a laugh. “I keep telling him he needs to go home, but he won’t fucking listen. He thinks I need him here or something.”


“Do you?” I ask quietly.


He looks away again. “Maybe.” He sighs, and then begins again, “He’s too young to have to deal with this bullshit. He spends all his time trying to take care of me. I’m supposed to be taking care of him, I’m the father.”


“He wants to be here, Brian. He wouldn’t be if he didn’t. He wants to help you. Yeah, he’s young, but I think we all know he’s not a typical kid; he never was,” I finish. He just shrugs. He doesn’t believe he deserves to be taken care of, to be loved. Even after all these years, he didn’t think he deserved to be loved by his own son, let alone anyone else. If he only knew – “I won’t tell anyone, you can trust me,” I assure him.


He nods. “I do.” I know I don’t deserve his trust anymore, but I’m elated by the fact that he still trusts me.


“Gus mentioned something about -- Kaposi‘s Sarcoma?” I ask. I don’t want to leave anything out. I need to know it all. It may be selfish, but I just need to know as much as I can get out of him.


He nods. “Yeah, I got diagnosed a month ago. I’m pretty sure I’ve had it for longer, though. That’s just when the lesions started showing up.” I can tell he’s embarrassed again. I’m relieved to notice that he’s no longer out of breath, though he still looks exhausted.


“I don’t see any lesions,” I tell him. I really don’t. There’s nothing on his face or arms, but that’s all that’s visible over his jeans and white t-shirt.


He sighs. “I have them, believe me. Thank God they’re not on my face. I’d probably fucking kill myself,” he attempts a joke. I don’t laugh, and he notices. “Lighten up, Sunshine,” he tells me. “It’s not the end of the world.”


I shake my head. “Are you in treatment or –“


“No,” he states. I stare at him, waiting for more. “I’m on HAART, but nothing for the KS.”


“When does the treatment start?” I ask. Surely they’ll put him in radiation or chemo to treat the lesions. I remember how sick he got with the radiation for the testicular cancer, and I’d imagine this would be worse. I don’t even want to think about it, but whatever it takes –


He shrugs. “I’m not sure it will.”


“What do you mean by that?” I ask, not sure if I’m ready to hear the answer to that question.


He shakes his head, “I don’t know yet.”


My eyes widen as I realize what he’s saying. “Brian, you have to do treatment. You can’t just – give up,” I insist, raising my voice for the first time. He can’t just – no, he has to go to treatment. He’s not –


He sighs. “Justin, I’m not doing well. I’m bad off right now, and even with treatment, there’s no guarantee I’ll get any better. I’m going to die from this, sooner or later.”


“But you still have time. You can do something about this – people live for years with AIDS all the time. You’re acting like you’re going to die tomorrow, like it’s a certainty,” I stop when I notice I’m upsetting him. I need to calm down. I’m not helping matters at all by freaking out. I just can’t believe he’s not going to fight it. It’s like he’s accepted his fate and he has no plans to try to change it, or at least delay it, for as long as he can. It’s like – he doesn’t want to live.


I realize there’s no way I know what he’s going through, or what he’s gone through up to this point. I’ve been gone for ten years, and there’s no way I can know anything about his decision and what’s led up to it. I just want to grab him and beg him to do treatment, but I can’t. It’s his choice and I have no say in it whatsoever. I made sure of that a long time ago. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be – I just –“


He stops me. “I just haven’t made a decision yet, okay?” is his response. I nod and I know this conversation is over for now. “So,” he begins again, and I can tell he’s about to change the subject, “How are you?” he asks with a small smile.


I try to smile back. “I’m okay,” I tell him.


He tilts his head, “Just okay? Come on, Sunshine, you should be fabulous.” I attempt a laugh and shrug. He leans back against the back of the sofa. “So when are you going home?”


I know my flight is tomorrow morning, but I don’t tell him that. “Uh – open ended ticket, you know? I was thinking about staying for awhile. I really don’t have anything going on right now,” I explain. His eyes narrow slightly and I think he’s going to call me on my bullshit, but he just nods. I can’t go home now. I’m not just going to leave him after this. I know there’s nothing I can do to help, but maybe just being here –


He sits back up slowly with a groan of what I assume to be pain that he probably didn’t think I noticed. “Well, in that case, do you want to come over tomorrow?” he asks. “I’m kind of tired – haven’t slept much lately,” he offers as an explanation. He feels like shit, and I can tell. I decided I should leave so he can rest.


I nod, “Yeah, definitely. We should – hang out or something,” I laugh at how high school that sounds and he laughs back.


“Ok, let’s hang out,” he says, smirking.

Chapter 5 by deviant_queen





His mouth crushes against mine as we grind into one another on the bed. I reach under his shirt and dig my fingernails into his back as I feel his hard cock press against mine, separated only by the material of our jeans. I moan into his mouth when his hands make their way to my hair and he begins to roughly tug at the blond strands. God, I love that. I pull away from his mouth just for a second so I can pull his t-shirt over his head. He does the same to me before our lips meet again.


We roll over so I’m on top and our kissing becomes more heated and urgent. I feel like I can’t get myself close enough to him. I need him inside me, now. I pull away again and sit, straddling him. I reach down and undo his jeans. I look down at him and I nearly gasp at how beautiful he is. His lips are swollen and red from our earlier activities, his face is flushed, he’s breathing heavily, and his eyes are darkened with unguarded lust. I lean down to steal another kiss before slowly reaching inside his now open jeans and –


BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.


Shit. I groan and roll over to the nightstand to turn the alarm clock off. That fucking annoying hotel room alarm clock that I’m pretty sure could wake the dead. I slump back onto the bed and consider sleeping for another hour. That thought soon dissipates when I remember I’ll be seeing Brian later today. I actually smile to myself at the thought.


I think back on the dream of which I was so rudely interrupted. I haven’t had a dream like that about Brian in awhile, and I can’t help but think that now is probably the worst time for me to be having them again. I try not to think about it. You can’t control your dreams, after all. I ponder going to take a shower, and after glancing down at the tent I’ve created in the sheets, I should probably make it a cold one.


After I left the loft yesterday, I decided to stop by my mom’s house. After she berated me for staying in a hotel instead of staying with her, I let her know about my plans to stay in Pittsburg for awhile. I didn’t tell her why, but I’m sure she assumed it has something to do with Brian. It does, of course, but not for the reasons she thinks. She told me she hasn’t seen or talked to Brian in about six months, so I know she wasn’t aware of him being sick. I disclosed no information, just as Brian requested, even though I was dying for someone to talk to about it.


I left Mom’s house after a couple of hours and headed back to the hotel. Of course, she let me go only after insisting I had to stay with her if I was going to be in town for longer than I had planned. She said the hotel rates were way too high, but I told her I could afford it and didn’t make any promises. I think I might need the alone time once and awhile. Or maybe I was secretly hoping I’d have somewhere else to stay soon. It was a ridiculous thought, I know. Brian won’t even let me close enough to touch him, let alone invite me to stay in his home with him and Gus. I considered calling the loft before I went to bed later that night, but I figured Brian was still sleeping so I decided against it. Besides, I didn’t want to push my luck with his unfathomable kindness.


Seeing Brian like he is now was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do – almost as hard as leaving him all those years ago. And knowing that he may not undergo treatment is killing me on the inside. I want to convince him to fight, but I know I have to keep my mouth shut if I want to stay in his life this time around. All I could do was wait and hope he made the right decision.


I step out of the bathroom after my shower and glanced at the clock. It’s already 10:00, so Brian should be up. It’s Saturday, so I’m assuming Gus will be there. I really want to make amends with him. I want to prove to him I’m not going to hurt Brian – that I just want to be there for him, that I really do care about him more than he could ever know. I understand why he doesn’t believe that, after what I did, but I won’t be satisfied until I prove to him that I’m not the horrible person he thinks I am – I’m just someone who made a huge mistake ten years ago and now I’m trying my damnedest to fix it.


I grab my keys and head downstairs to my rental car – a blue Honda Accord. Not the fanciest, but it’ll do the trick. On the drive to the loft, I think of how amazing it is that my feelings for Brian haven’t faded in the slightest since before I left. In fact, I think they’re stronger now than they once were. I guess I fooled myself into thinking I was fine without him, but after yesterday, I know better. Being with Brian is my passion – like my art, only on a different level. I’m a different person when I’m with him, and I like that person better. I wonder if he feels the same way.


I’m trying hard to be positive, but something he said yesterday just won’t leave me alone. ‘I’m going to die from this, sooner or later.’ It’s the harsh reality that I can’t stand to think about. How will it happen? When will it happen? Will I be there to see it? How long do I have to make everything right? What the hell will I do what it happens?  I shake my head in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts as I park in front of Brian’s building.


As I approach the door to the loft, I hear Brian’s voice coming from inside. “So chemo is my only option?” I know it’s wrong of me to eavesdrop, but I can’t help but lean toward the door so I can hear the conversation taking place on the other side.


“Well, the HAART is controlling it or else it would be everywhere. Since the lesions are localized, radiation is still an option. However, if it has spread to other parts of your body, chemotherapy might be your best bet,” the voice floors me. I’d know that voice anywhere, and I can’t believe I’m hearing it coming out of Brian’s loft.


“How long do you think it would give me?” Brian asks, softly as if he’s trying not to be heard.


There’s a pause. “It’s hard to say. I’ve seen it give people five, even ten, more years, but I’ve also seen it kill people in six months or less.” Shit.


I hear Brian scoff. “So the question is do I feel lucky?”


“If we can treat the KS, there’s a slightly higher likelihood of reverting back to HIV. The chance of relapse is high, but if we’re talking about getting you more time – treatment is the only option we have.”


Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes. Say you’ll do it. Come on, Brian – “I don’t know,” he finally says. “I have to think about it.” Double shit.


I take the silence that follows as an opportunity to knock on the door. I hear the clicking of high heels across the hardwood floor before the door opens. Her smile is blinding. “Justin,” she grabs me in a tight hug. “I was hoping I’d still be here when you showed up.” She sounds so excited to see me and I feel like shit. Daphne was my best friend since elementary school, and yet she was one of the people I cut off when I left for New York. “What the hell have you been up to?” she asks when she finally pulls away, still smiling.


I take a moment to step back and look at her. “Damn, Daph, you’re fucking hot,” I tell her and she laughs. At 31 she could still pass for being in her twenties; her dark hair is long and straight. She’s wearing snug jeans with black heels and a low cut long-sleeved black shirt. She looks like she just stepped out of an edition of Elle; she’s beautiful. She always was.


“Why thank you,” she replies. “I guess a Ph.D. agrees with me.”


“Oh wow, congratulations!” I gush. “I knew you’d do it.”


She laughs. “Thanks.” Just then I hear a beeping and she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a beeper. She glances at the screen. “Duty calls,” she states regrettably. “I’ve got to go.” She turns back into the loft, walks over to Brian’s desk, where he’s still sitting quietly and grabs her bag. She leans over and gives Brian a long hug. He hugs back. “Take care of yourself,” she says quietly, so quietly I could barely hear her. She stands back up and starts to walk back toward me and the door. “I’ll take a look at your chart and give you a call tomorrow, okay?” she asks and glances back at him.


He nods. “Yeah. Thanks for stopping by,” he tells her.


She smiles. “No problem.” She turns back to me and points at my face. “And you better call me. Maybe we can get together and catch up before you disappear again, you asshole,” she says and laughs so I know she’s kidding.


I smile back. “I’ll definitely call you.” She tells me I can get her number from Brian and then, with the beeper going off again, rushes out the door, yelling a ‘bye!’ as she hurries down the stairs. I closed the door behind her and walk further into the loft toward Brian.


“I thought you said no one else knew,” I say with a small smile. I always knew Daphne liked Brian, but I never would’ve thought they’d keep in touch after all these years. Hell, I didn’t even know either of them knew the other’s number. I’m glad that Daph is helping him, but I can’t help but be a little jealous of their obvious closeness. Daphne’s been here for him and I haven’t. He won’t let me touch him, but he let her hug him for Christ’s sake. I try to shake off the jealousy, though, because I’m not being fair. Again, this is all my fault.


He shrugs. “I guess I forgot,” he tells me. I snort in disbelief. He smirks, “She’s just helping me figure out what options I have now.”


I nod. “Is she your doctor?” I ask him.


He shakes his head. “No, but she works in the same office, so she has access to all my shit I guess,” he informs me. “She’s been – great.”


“Yeah, Daphne’s a good friend,” I tell him and he nods slightly. I look around, “Where’s Gus?”


“I sent him to the store. He gets kind of – upset when Daphne and I talk about this kind of stuff,” he points to his computer screen where I’m guessing he has information about treatment pulled up. “He says he doesn’t, but –“ he trails off. “He should be back soon, though.”


Like clockwork, the door slides open again, and Gus walks in with a couple grocery bags in his hands. “Hey, I’m h--,” he stops when he sees me. “Oh, hey,” he says, but his tone is anything but welcoming and he walks into the kitchen to put away the groceries.


“Gus,” Brian warns.


Gus puts up his hands in mock surrender. “What? I didn’t say anything,” he insists.


Brian shakes his head.


“Anyways,” Gus continues. “I was thinking about going to Ashley’s house for awhile. Can I?” he asks as he finishes up in the kitchen.


“Yep,” Brian says, looking back at his computer screen.


He looked pointedly at me before starting again. “You sure you’re going to be okay?” I know he’s talking to Brian even though he’s looking at me, but I can tell he still doesn’t trust me being alone with his dad.


Brian scoffs. “I’m sure I’ll survive,” he states sarcastically.


Gus finally looks away from me and huffs a laugh. “Ok, later,” he says and heads for the door.


“Gus, wait,” I hear my voice before I realize I was going to say anything. He looks back at me, appearing slightly annoyed. “I wanted to talk to you for a minute.” I walk past him and stand just outside the door. He looks back at Brian, who just shrugs, then follows me out. I slide the door closed behind us. He just stares at me, waiting.


I sigh. “Listen, I know you don’t like me.” He raises his eyebrow. I swear he’s Brian’s clone. I almost smile at the thought. When he says nothing, I continue. “I just wanted to – clear the air with you, I guess. I want you to know that I care about your dad a lot –“


He snorts and cuts me off. “Yeah, obviously,” he drawls sarcastically.


“I know I did something really shitty, and I know I hurt him. I can’t blame you for not believing that I care for him, but I do,” I tell him. “I’m trying really hard to gain his trust back and fix what I fucked up, but I don’t want any animosity between you and me. I intend to prove to you that I’m being honest with both of you.”


He laughs and shakes his head. “It’s cool, man. What does it matter what I think of you?” he asks.


I shrug. “We used to be pretty close, you know. I even named you,” I offer.


“Yeah, I know. Gus. Thanks so much for that gem,” he jokes.


I laugh. “Hey, it was between that and Abraham. You should be on your knees thanking me right now.”


“Well I’m not going to get on my knees, Sunshine,” he teases and I shake my head and huff a laugh at his innuendo. “But you’re right, Gus is better. A little more butch than anything I’d expect from you, but I can pull it off.”


We laugh again. This is good. We’re joking around with each other. Maybe he’s realizing I’m more genuine than he thought.


Suddenly he’s serious. “The thing is, “he begins, “that’s my dad. And he’s sick, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make this easier on him. It’s my job, no matter what he thinks,” he tells me. “So if you fuck up again, there’ll be hell to pay,” he warns, no smile this time.


I nod. “I could’ve guessed that much.”


He hesitates. “You know, you’re not so bad. But we’re not friends just yet. We’ll see what happens. Just—don’t do anything stupid,” he finishes with a smirk.


I smile. “Ok, deal.”


I reach out my hand to shake his, but he just looks at it before laughing and turning away and heading toward the stairs. He turns back. “Just a bit of advice,” he tells me and I’m all ears. I need all the help I can get. “Take it slow and be patient, he’ll come around. He’s still expecting you to up and leave again, so he won’t offer his trust right away. You have more to prove to him before he can do that, but it’ll happen if you play your cards right. I guess he still cares about you too,” he tells me with a shrug.


I nod. “Thanks, Gus.” He nods once and heads down the stairs. I take a deep breath before heading back into the loft with a smile. I’ll be earning Brian’s trust back if it’s the last thing I do, dammit.


Chapter 6 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

 

“So I need to make my decision,” he tells me. I’m lying in my queen size bed in the hotel room with my phone to my ear. I’ve been in town a little over a week and Brian and I have been talking on the phone nightly before we go to bed. I silently wonder where he’s at in the loft; sitting on the couch, standing in the kitchen, lying in bed like me. I wish I could be there with him.


“What decision?” I asked lazily, starting to become very tired.


He sighs, more to himself than because of me. “About treatment,” comes the simple reply. “I go to the doctor tomorrow; he wants a decision.”


All of a sudden, I’m more awake. “Oh,” I say and hesitate. We haven’t spoken about this subject since that first day and I’ve managed to keep my mouth shut ever since. I figured he just didn’t want to talk about it, or didn’t want to talk to me about it. We’re quiet for a few long, agonizing moments. I finally speak again, “So what are you thinking?”


“What do you think I should do?” he voice is quiet.


Isn’t that obvious? “I think you should do treatment,” I tell him. He laughs. “What is so funny about that?”


“Nothing is funny about it,” he says honestly. “You’re just so convinced that that’s what I should do. You don’t even know what my chances are.”


Chances. It sounds like the end of the road to me. “Do you know what they are?” I ask him.


He hesitates. “I asked Daphne what she thought,” he starts. “She said that with treatment I could have as little as six months or as much as five or ten years.” He laughs, “That’s quite a broad range.”


“Yeah, it is. What about without treatment?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the answer.


“Probably not even six months,” he tells me.


I shut my eyes tightly. “Then isn’t treatment the best option? Don’t you want the chance to be around for longer than that?” I ask the last part hesitantly. I don’t know if I’m ready to hear that answer either.


“Well, yeah,” he tells me and I sigh in relief. “For Gus,” he continues, “I don’t want him to have to deal with losing someone at sixteen. He’s gone through enough.” We fall into a long silence again. “He’s the only reason, though. I really don’t have anything else here for me.”


What he just said saddened me more than his potential decision to not undergo treatment. “What about me?” I ask in almost a whisper.


He laughs again, not nearly as heartily as last time. “What about you, Sunshine?” he asks. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be going back to New York soon anyway, won’t you? Back to your life. This isn’t who you are anymore. You’re just a visitor now.” His voice isn’t genuine; he almost sounds sad, but I don’t call him on it.


“I was actually thinking about moving back,” I tell him.


“Why?” he asks like he really wants to know.


“I can do my art from here. I’ve already laid a foundation; I don’t need to be in New York to make a living. I miss my family, my friends – I want to get to know Gus better,” I explain. “And – I don’t want to leave you.”


He snorts. “Don’t include me in that decision. I may not be here long enough for that.”


“Don’t say that,” I tell him seriously.


“It’s the truth.”


I shake my head even though he’s not here to see it. “It doesn’t have to be. Like you said, you could be around for a few years if you do treatment.”


He sighs. “Yeah – could be.” I know the conversation is over even before he speaks again. “I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.”


“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promise.


“Okay. Make it after noon. I’ll let you know what I decided then. Night,” he tells me.


I close my eyes again. “Night,” I whisper to him right before I hear him hang up. I end the call and close my phone. I should probably get up and take a shower before I go to sleep, but instead, I find myself just lying here staring at the ceiling for awhile.


I probably won’t get any sleep after that conversation with Brian. I think back on the last week. I’ve seen him every day. I stop by the loft and we talk and bullshit for hours until it’s time for me to leave. He’s working from home – I’m assuming so no one else has to know he’s sick – so he’s at the loft every day now. He still hasn’t let me touch him, though, and it gets harder and harder not to by the day. It’s so great being with him, though. We talk and laugh and catch up; it’s almost like old times – almost. Gus and I have been much more civil to each other as well. I can tell he’s still wary about my presence, but he’s more comfortable with me being alone with Brian while he’s at school now.


I really hope Brian decides to do treatment. I can’t imagine Brian Kinney, of all people, just giving up and dying without a fight. I know he was fighting this fucking disease long before me, and I know he’s tired, but he can’t just give up. I honestly don’t know what I’d do if he decides to just let this KS kill him. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought before I start crying alone in my hotel room; how pathetic.


I need someone to talk to about this. I grab my phone and dial the number. I wait three rings before the call is picked up. “Hello?”


“Hey Daph, it’s Justin. Want to do breakfast tomorrow?”


____________________


“So you kept in touch with him the whole time?” I asked. Daphne and I met up at a small diner close to the hotel. She asked if I wanted to go to the Liberty Diner, but I didn’t think I could be there without Debbie. It wouldn’t feel right. Also, I didn’t want to run into anyone I wasn’t ready to talk to yet.


She nods. “Yeah. I used to drop by and we’d smoke together at least once a week,” she laughs. “It’s been fun. You know how much I loved Brian, even back when you were around.”


When I was around. “Yeah, I guess,” I tell her, my eyes averted to the table in front of me.


“What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding concerned.


“Nothing,” I tell her.


She sighs. She knows what I want. Daphne and I were always like that. I didn’t even have to tell her, she just knew. “I was at the office when he got diagnosed with HIV,” she starts. I look up at her and she stares back with knowing eyes. I lean onto the table, all ears. “He didn’t tell me, but I took the unethical route and looked at his chart. I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I just had to know. That night I showed up at the loft and he kind of spilled his guts about what happened. He played it off well enough, but I could tell he was devastated by the diagnosis.”


Hold on a second. “Wait, you know how it happened? Like – exactly?” I ask.


“Yeah – he didn’t tell you?” she asks incredulously. I shake my head. “Well I’m sure he will,” she said doubtfully.


I shake my head again. “No, I don’t think so. He doesn’t trust me anymore,” I tell her, defeated.


She raises her eyebrows. “Well –“


“I know, I can’t blame him,” I sigh. “Gus told me he’s still waiting for me to up and leave again.”


“That sounds about right,” she says as the waitress brings our breakfast to us.


“He won’t let me near him, Daph,” I say quietly as the server walks away.


“What do you mean?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.


“I haven’t touched him since I’ve been back. Whenever I get to close he moves away. I just don’t get it,” I complain.


She shrugs it off. “He’s scared, Justin. Maybe he thinks if you touch him – I don’t know. Brian always was pretty complex.”


I shake my head. “Not to me. I always knew what he was thinking. I knew Brian better than I knew myself. But now – he’s like a stranger sometimes. He’s still Brian, but he’s – different.”


“You’d be different too,” she tells me.


“I know, I know,” I stare at my uneaten food. Suddenly, I’m no longer hungry.


She’s quiet for a minute, contemplating. “Can I ask you something?” I nod. “Do you still love him?” Leave it to Daphne to get right to the point.


I look up at her. I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah – I do,” I confess.


She nods knowingly. “Then just give it some time. He’ll come around.” She reaches over and puts her hand over mine.


“That’s what Gus said – I guess I’m just being impatient,” I grab my fork and start stabbing at my food, still with no intention of eating it.


“The fact that he asked you what you thought about his treatment options says a lot. He’s divulging a lot to you, just not everything yet. It’ll be okay,” she tries to convince me.


I sigh. “How was he when I left?” I ask suddenly. I need to know.


I can tell she doesn’t want to answer me, but she tries to brush it off. “He was – fine,” she hesitates.


I’m not buying it. “Daph, come on. Tell me.”


She shrugs. “I don’t know. He wasn’t a fall down mess or anything at first. At least, he didn’t let anyone see if he was. But then he wouldn’t I guess,” she pauses. “He just seemed – sad, I don’t know. Wouldn’t you be sad?”


I nod. “I was,” I tell her.


Another hesitation. “Why did you do it?”


I put my fork down. “Honestly, right now I have no idea. I guess I thought it would be best if he wasn’t waiting around for me –“


She cuts me off. “He would’ve spent his whole life waiting for you. Hell, maybe he has,” she says and shakes her head. I can tell she’s disappointed in my answer. I know it’s not good enough.


I put my head in my hands. “God, I feel like shit.”


“Listen, Justin, we all do shitty things. We all hurt the people we love. The hard part is moving on and doing something about it. No one’s perfect, you just have to try,” she tells me.


“I am trying,” I insist.


“I know,” she says. “He loves you. He never stopped. He’s just not letting himself do anything about it.”


I look back up at her. “You really think he still loves me?” I ask, hopeful.


She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think he does, I know he does.”


Her confidence makes me feel marginally better, but my stomach is still in knots. “He’s being so nice to me. I don’t deserve it. The only one that seems mad at me so far is Gus – why can’t he just yell at me, tell me what a shit I am for leaving him –“


“Did you really expect that?” she asks me.


I shake my head. “I didn’t expect anything. I wasn’t even planning on seeing him until I saw Gus and he told me about Brian,” I confess. “I mean, you don’t even seem mad at me. I don’t get it.”


She laughs. “Oh, I was pissed for a long time, believe me,” she says. “It’s just – I mean, after ten years, you can’t be mad anymore. What’s done is done. He accepted it -- we all did. None of us thought you’d ever come back. But you did – and I guess he couldn’t be mad at you. I think –“ she stops.


“Tell me,” I insist.


She shakes her head. “I think he just wanted to see you one more time before –“


I put my hand up. “Okay, don’t tell me,” I stop her before she can continue. I don’t want to hear what she was going to say – I’m pretty sure I know anyways.


She gives me a sad smile. “Look, Gus and I are both pretty loyal to Brian,” I nod. “But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you. We were friends for a long time, Justin. I still consider you my friend, so I’ll help you if I can. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here; I don’t think you’ll hurt him. I’m going to trust you not to.”


“Thanks, Daphne. I really appreciate it. And – I’m sorry about what I did,” I tell her.


She shrugs. “Like I said, what’s done is done. But we have a lot of catching up to do,” she smiles again, this time less sad. I smile back slightly. I’m glad I got my best friend back.


____________________


Brian’s call comes at 11:58. I hate to admit it, but I was holding the phone in my hand waiting for the clock to hit noon so I could call. “Come over,” he commands. I automatically grab my keys and head for the loft.


I’m so nervous I’m practically shaking. I wonder what he’s going to tell me. I’m silently praying he’s going to tell me he’s going through with treatment, but I can’t help the awful feeling in my stomach telling me he may not. What if he’s inviting me over to tell me he decided against it? Maybe he thought it was best if he told me in person instead of over the phone.


I park in front of his building and run up the stairs. The door is already open when I reach the top. I walk inside, “Brian?” I call out.


He comes down the stairs that lead to the bedroom. “Hey,” he greets me.


“Hey,” I reply, a bit out of breath from running. “How’d your appointment go?”


He shrugs. “You want to sit?” he asks, gesturing to the living room.


Oh God, no. This doesn’t sound good. My heart is beating fast and I feel like I’m going to puke, but I head over to the sofa with him. We’re sitting about a foot from each other and all I can do is stare, waiting for the news. I still don’t know if I can handle hearing this.


He takes a deep breath. “My doctor says he doesn’t think my body is strong enough to handle chemotherapy right now. He said radiation is an option, but there’s only a 50/50 chance it’ll do anything at all. He said it would be aggressive treatment and I’d struggle with it every day. I’d be weak, nauseous, puking my guts out all day; you know the drill. He said it was my decision whether I wanted to take the chance or – try to enjoy my last few months without treatment.”


Just say it. Just tell me, I can’t take this anymore. I shake my head. “What did you tell him?” I hear my voice break. I’m trying to prepare myself for this.


He’s agonizingly quiet for awhile before he continues. “I decided – to try the radiation,” he tells me.


I let out a breath I was holding in. I can’t believe it. “Brian, that’s so great. I’m so –“


He cuts me off. “Hold on a second,” he tells me. “I said I’d try. I’m not making any promises. If they don’t think it’s helping after the first few treatments, I’m not going to do it anymore.”


I nod. “I understand.” He’s going to fight it; he’s going to try. I would run down the streets shouting for joy if I wasn’t so unwilling to leave the loft right now. I lean toward him slightly. “Can I –“ He knows what I’m asking, and I’m silently begging him to say yes.


I wait for his answer. He looks scared for some reason. I think he’s going to say no, but then he nods slightly. I lean forward more and wrap my arms around his neck. His arms slowly encircle my waist and I feel like I’m flying. Touching him, being in his arms for the first time in ten years is like winning the lottery to me. I bury my face in his neck and breathe in his familiar scent. I could stay here forever; I never want to let go of him. I hug him tighter and he responds accordingly.


I slightly pull away from the hug after a bit, but I don’t break our contact. Our faces are mere inches away from each other and before I realize what I’m doing, I close the gap. My lips brush against his softly, as if I’m scared I’m going to break him. Maybe I am. He doesn’t respond at first, but then I feel him start to kiss back. I can’t believe how amazing his lips feel against mine. My body is on overload – his taste, his scent, it’s so overwhelming – and I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust. I deepen the kiss a little and I feel his hand find its way to my face. He just holds it there, gently as we kiss. I reach my hand between us and place it on his thigh. He pulls away suddenly.


“Justin, we can’t – do that,” he tells me and backs away slightly so we’re no longer touching.


“Why not?” I find myself asking. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’m expecting him to get angry; I know why he feels that way. Why would I ask something like that? But I can’t help it. I need to know if Daphne was right.


“Why not?” he asks incredulously. He shakes his head, rises from the couch, and walks toward the kitchen, away from me.


I stand up and follow him, not backing down. “That’s the first time you even let me near you since I’ve been back,” I tell him. “You’re acting like you’re a disease; like I’ll catch something just by touching you.” I know I should stop but I can’t; it’s too late. “Or is it some other reason? I saw you hug Daphne, and you let Gus touch you too. Why not me? Why? Is it because you’re afraid I’m going to leave again? Because, Brian, you have to believe me. I’m not going anywhere. I want to be here with you. I lo—“


“Don’t,” he cuts me off. “Just don’t, Justin, please.” He sounds so vulnerable and I can’t stand it.


I sigh. “I just – I just want to be close to you again. I haven’t been close to you in ten years and – I need it. I need to feel like you’re still here.”


“We can’t –“ he shakes his head and backs away more.


“Why? Michael and Ben have been together for years and Michael is still negative. You know that. So why –“ I know I’m begging, but I can’t seem to stop myself. All this emotion has been pent up for awhile and now I can’t control it.


“Because you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing!” He finally snaps. I look at him incredulously, at a loss for words. I don’t know what I’m doing?


“What do you mean?” I finally forced out.


He reaches up and undoes the top button of his shirt. He hesitates before starting on the second one. He quickly unbuttons them all, pulls his shirt off, and drops it to the ground. He looks at me, waiting. My breath catches in my throat and a sob escapes me.


My eyes lower to his chest at the small reddish purple lesions scattered across his torso. They’re littered across his chest, over his ribcage, and even down onto his abdomen. They almost look like bruises, only redder and they’re everywhere. There must be at least twelve or fifteen of them, varying in sizes and color; some small and dark, others slightly bigger and lighter in color. They look painful and I silently wonder if they are.


I’m crying openly now, tears falling down my cheeks uncontrollably as I stare at the lesions marring Brian’s beautiful body. I look back up into his eyes and I see that they’re glassy. I can tell he’s trying to keep himself together. He takes in a shaky breath. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he repeats again.


“Brian,” I say. It comes out in a strangled whisper and I’m not even sure if he heard it.


“Just go,” he tells me. I shake my head. I can’t just leave. “Please,” he pleads. I don’t know what to do. I feel like my feet won’t move toward the door. I know I need to respect his wishes. He doesn’t need this stress right now. I can’t imagine what he’s going through, and there’s no way I could understand it. He bends down to pick up his shirt and turns and walks into the bathroom without another word.


The sound of the door slamming echoes throughout the loft.

Chapter 7 by deviant_queen

 

 

 


I honestly don’t know how long I’ve been standing, frozen, in the middle of the loft, staring at the bathroom door. All I know is that the tears are still falling silently because I can’t stop them and everytime I close my eyes, even just to blink, all I see are those lesions. I try to keep the visions out of my head, but they refuse to leave.


Brian did what he did just now to prove a point, but now I’m more confused than ever. I guess the distance he kept between us wasn’t because he was scared I was going to leave or that he was worried about getting too close to me emotionally again. Was it because he was scared he was going to infect me if we got too close? Or is it his vanity that’s standing in the way? Does he think that I won’t want him after what he showed me? By now he has to know that his looks have nothing to do with my feelings for him, and they haven’t for a long time. I just don’t get it.


I want to stay and make him talk to me. I want to find out what’s going through his head. I want to hug him and never let go. I want to make the pain go away – for both of us. But I know that I can’t. He made it perfectly clear he wants me to leave. As we all know, Brian has never been good at dealing with his feelings, and now is no different. My heart aches for him; for us.


I struggle to get my legs to move in the direction of the door; down the stairs, out of the building, into my car, back to the hotel, and then what? I don’t know, and I don’t have time to think about it because I don’t even get three steps toward the door before I hear the loud crash of glass breaking behind me. I jump slightly at the noise and I automatically know what it is; he shattered the mirror in the bathroom. My body won’t let me leave after that, so I slowly walk back into the loft toward the bathroom door. As I get closer, I hear his heavy breathing; maybe from exertion or frustration, or – I’m not entirely sure.


“Brian,” I call out.


I hear him sigh. It didn’t sound like a frustrated sigh, but more of a resigned sigh. Like he knew I was still here the whole time. “Go away, Justin,” he tells me from the other side of the door.


I lean my head up against the door frame. “No.”


“I’m giving you an easy out. Just fucking take it,” he says, his voice hard, though it cracked there at the end.


“I don’t want an easy out, and I’m not going anywhere so you can just fucking deal with it,” I tell him, purposefully trying my damnedest to sound angry. Brian always responded better to anger than to anguish. “Please – Brian, just please come out and talk to me.” I suddenly remember something my mother said to me once, a long time ago, when she wanted so desperately for me to talk to her after I came out to her and my dad. I now know how she must’ve felt. “Don’t run away from me, because I’m not running away from you,” I tell him quietly. He doesn’t say anything. “Please don’t push me away this time – please,” I’m pleading with him again and praying that it works this time.


I feel like I’ve been waiting for hours, though it’s more like minutes before the door begins to open. I step back slightly from it. His eyes look haunted, with a mixture of what I can only assume to be anger, frustration, pain, and maybe something else that I can’t put my finger on. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, we just stand there, looking at each other. My eyes are still wet with tears and part of me prays he doesn’t notice while another part hopes he does.


I look down at his hands. Neither of them is bleeding, so I’m assuming he didn’t break the mirror with his fist, but probably threw something at it, causing it to shatter. I don’t know what he may have thrown, but I decide it doesn’t matter. I look behind him to see the shards of glass covering the floor of his bathroom, then back at his face. He isn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, he looks down at the floor and sighs.


“Brian,” I begin, softly. “Those –“ I motion to his torso so he knows I’m referring to the lesions, “They don’t – change anything.”


He glances at me again. “They change everything,” he tells me before I can say anything else. I shake my head. He sighs again and moves past me into the bedroom before turning back around to face me. “Justin,” he’s talking to me like I’m a child, but I don’t comment on it. I know that he doesn’t think I know anything about what’s going on with him. Hell, maybe I don’t, so I let him talk to me however he wants to. At least he’s talking now. “I don’t even know why the fuck you want to have this conversation.”


“What do you –“ I try.


He doesn’t let me continue. “Just go home. Go back to New York; back to your life. We both know the only reason you’re here is because Gus told you I’m dying,” he tells me, but then starts speaking again before I can argue with him. “And I am. Justin – I am dying,” he says it slowly and I can’t help but let it sink in. My eyes start burning again. “And there’s no reason you should be here to see it happen. If you – if you feel guilty about whatever happened ten years ago, forget it. I’m not pissed at you, you didn’t do anything wrong, so you don’t have anything to make up for.”


“That’s not why I’m here,” I insist.


“Isn’t it?” he asks me.


I shake my head. “No!” I tell him, my voice sounding stronger than I feel.


He shrugs. “Then what? Do you feel sorry for me? You feel bad because I managed to lose almost everyone important in my life because of this and you don’t want me to have to die alone?” My head is spinning and I want so bad to tell him that’s not it, but I don’t know if I can speak without losing it. “Well guess what, Sunshine? That was always the plan. It’s how we all came it, and it’s how we’re all going out.”


I try to pull myself together. “I want to be here with you –“


He cuts me off. “Why?” he asks, challenging me.


“Because – because I want to help,” I say lamely.


He huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”


“For how long?” I counter. “You said yourself that treatment is going to be tough. I know you don’t want Gus to see it, or to help – but I can. I’ve been there, remember?”


“That was different,” he replies, both of us remembering his first round of radiation all those years ago.


“Why?”


He shakes his head. “Because we were together then. Because we lo—“ he pauses. “We loved each other then.”


“And we don’t anymore?” Maybe Daphne was wrong after all. Maybe Brian doesn’t still love me. Maybe –


He pulls the sleeve of his shirt up as he takes a few steps toward me. He holds his arm out, palm up. “Look,” he tells me. I look down at his arm and then back up at him questioningly. “They look a lot like track marks, don’t they?” I look back down at the small dark circular scars creating a line across the vein in his forearm. I can’t believe I didn’t notice them before. “You don’t know me anymore, Justin. And I don’t know you,” he’s speaking softly again, for now. “We aren’t the same people we used to be. The reason you’re here is not because you suddenly realized your undying love for me,” he says it like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “You’re here because I was your first lover, and I’m sick, and it scares the hell out of you.” I shake my head. “It’s been ten fucking years, Justin! What’s so different now? What exactly made you realize that you’re so fucking in love with me again?” He’s angry and almost yelling at me now.


“Not again,” I tell him. “I never stopped.”


He shakes his head slowly. “Fuck you,” he whispers, his eyes glassy again. I feel like I’ve been punched. Brian’s never said that to me before – not like that -- and the pain I hear behind it makes me feel a million times worse. “That’s bullshit,” he adds bitterly.


“It’s not bullshit! I made a huge fucking mistake and by the time I realized it, I thought it was too late to fix it. I’d give anything to go back and do it all again,” I tell him, tears beginning to fall once again. “I’d do – anything to make you believe that because it’s the truth. I fooled myself into thinking I was fine without you –“


“You were fine.”


I shake my head. “I was surviving. I haven’t been happy – truly happy in a decade. And being with you again – it makes me feel alive. I’m feeling things that I haven’t felt in years and I want all those feelings back. I want – I want you back,” my voice breaks with emotion. “I don’t care about the things you did while I was gone because they don’t matter anymore. All we have is here and now.”


He scoffs. “Christ. You sound like Ben.”


“Well, he should know,” I tell him and he just stares. “I just want the chance to make us okay again. I know I can’t reverse what I did – I know that. But I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying.”


“My life,” he says suddenly.


“What?” I ask, confused.


He pauses for a moment. “You mean the rest of my life.”


I take a deep breath. “If that’s the case –“


He doesn’t let me finish. “It is the case. I don’t think you really understand what’s going on here. I have a 50% chance of making it six months or longer with treatment. The other 50 isn’t so optimistic. They say if I live a year, it’s a blessing. A fucking blessing.”


I honestly don’t know what to say to that, and I think that was his intention. He’s trying to get it through my head that he won’t be around for much longer. He doesn’t think he’s worth the effort if he’s just going to – die soon, either way.


Six months. Those words keep running through my head. Six months. It sounds like nothing to me. It’s nowhere near long enough. I know Brian doesn’t think I’m strong enough to take this. I honestly don’t know if I’m ready either, but it doesn’t matter. “Do you – Can I ask you something?” I question.


He sighs, but nods.


“Do you think that – if I hadn’t left; if I hadn’t ended things – do you think any of this would’ve happened to you?”


He’s quiet for a long time. I know the answer to the question; the fact that I’m asking it could be considered cruelty. Cruelty towards whom, I’m not sure. Maybe both of us. The painful reality of it is that if I wouldn’t have cut Brian off completely, he could be completely healthy. He could be helping raise his son; he could be going to work; he could still have all of his friends; he could still be going to Woody’s and Babylon on the weekends; he could be – happy. And he isn’t, I know that. How could he be?


After way too many long, agonizing moments he finally speaks. “I thought you said all we have is here and now and the rest doesn’t matter.”


“Just answer the question,” I insist.


He shakes his head. “People break up all the time, Sunshine. What I’m going through now is no one’s fault but my own. I made stupid decisions when I was far too old not to know better, and this is where those decisions have gotten me. It has nothing to do with you.” I think it’s bullshit, but I say nothing. “I told you this was out of guilt,” he tells me. He thinks he’s proven me right.


I sigh. “Yeah, I feel guilty, okay? But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you –“


“I never said that,” he tells me. “You could very well have feelings for me. But those feelings aren’t love.”


That fuels anger in me that I didn’t know was there. “Oh fuck you, Brian! You can’t tell me who I can and can’t love; even if that person is you. You should know by now that nothing you say is going to make me go away.”


He shakes his head, almost smiling, and walks out of the bedroom towards the kitchen and I follow. “You always were a persistent little shit,” he says as he reaches the bar in the kitchen and leans against it, facing away from me.


“Yeah, and ten years hasn’t changed that,” I tell him. “I can do this, Brian. I’m strong enough to do this.


“I know you are,” he tells me. “That’s not the problem.”


“Then what is the problem?” I ask hesitantly.


He hangs his head and takes a deep breath. He’s quiet for awhile. “If you – hadn’t come back, you would’ve found out about my dying the same way you found out about Debbie. You probably would’ve come here for the funeral or after, just like you did for her. And just like Deb, you’d remember me like I was when you left.”


“Brian –“ I whisper, shaking my head.


“I just don’t want your last memory of me to be in a hospital bed, looking like hell, hooked up to a bunch of machines. A fucking fall-down mess. Some old dying fag that you once had feelings for. It’s fucking pathetic,” he finishes, still facing in the opposite direction.


If I wasn’t crying before, I am now. I swallow hard to fight off the tears, but to no avail. I’ve never heard Brian talk about himself like that before. I’ve never heard him actually tell me exactly what he’s thinking before.


“It’s not pathetic,” I whisper. I clear my throat and try to sound stronger. “It’s what people do when they love each other.” He says nothing as I approach him from behind. I reach up and touch his side gently.  He flinches slightly and tenses, but lets me touch him. “I’ll always remember you like you were then, and it’s the same person you are now. You may be different in some ways, but you’re the same in all the important ways. You’re still you; you’re still – beautiful, and you always will be, no matter how sick you get. Come on, you’re Brian Kinney, remember?” He doesn’t laugh or scoff like I expected him to at that comment, but I feel his muscles relax a little under my fingertips.


He finally turns to face me. His eyes are wet and my breath catches in my throat. I’ve never seen Brian cry before. “So what do you want?” he asks me.


I step closer to him. “I want you to accept the fact that I’m not going anywhere – and that I’m here because I want to be, not because I feel like I should be or need to be out of guilt or pity or – whatever it is you think. I want you to let me touch you whenever I want to. And, dammit, I want you to want me here,” I huff a laugh as I finish. I hold my breath and wait for his response.

 


He nods slightly. We stand there for a moment in silence before he attempts a small smile. “I do.”

Chapter 8 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

 

We’re lying on the bed in the loft, in the middle of the night, sharing a joint in silence. I think this may be the longest Brian and I have remained fully clothed on this bed with no intention of fucking. I laugh to myself at the thought, feeling thoroughly buzzed. He turns his head at the sound and looks at me, confused. I shake my head, dismissing the question before he asks it.


“I’m going to ask you something,” he tells me after awhile. “And I want you to be honest.” I glance over at him and raise my eyebrows, silently telling him to continue. He sighs. “This is going to sound stupid.”


I shake my head, giggling. “Nothing could sound stupid to me right now.” I haven’t smoked in a few years, especially not the good stuff Brian always manages to have, and I can feel the effects of the long span of abstinence after only a few tokes.


He laughs softly. “Lightweight.”


“Fuck off,” I tell him playfully and nudge his side with my elbow. “Ask me.”


He looks up at the ceiling. “Do you – believe in God? You know, heaven and hell, the afterlife and all that shit?” he asks.


I lean up on so I’m resting on my elbow, facing him. “Honestly?” I ask and he nods. “Yeah, I guess I do believe in something like that.”


He sighs. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”


“What are you getting at?” I ask him, curious.


“Nothing. Just thinking,” he shrugs, and I’m sure he’s hoping I’ll drop it. I don’t.


“About –“ I urge him to continue.


He sighs again. “About – fuck, I don’t know. I’m pondering the possibility that maybe my mom was right all along.”


“What do you mean?” I ask again.


He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”


I feel myself starting to sober up. I know what this is about. Brian thinks he’s going to go to hell. “Brian –“


He waves me off. “Don’t start. Forget it, it was just a question.”


“Well, then I’ll just say this. If there is a God, and if he’s anything like what I was told, I think he just wants us to be happy. He’s the one that made us all and regardless of whether we’re straight or gay –“ He snorts loudly, interrupting me. “What?” I demand.


“I think most would agree that being a fag is the least of my sins, Father Taylor,” he muses with a smirk.


I sigh. “You’re not a bad person, Brian. You never were. And besides, I’m sure Deb and Vic put in a good word for you.” I smile sadly at the thought.


He looks thoughtful for a moment before shaking it off and replacing it with an indifferent gaze. “Let’s talk about something else,” he says shortly, his tone leaving no argument to be had.


“Okay. Can I ask you something now?” I ask hesitantly.


“I suppose,” he sighs dramatically.


I bite my lip. “Are you scared?”


He looks at me questioningly for a minute before realization finally hits. “Of dying?” I nod. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. He takes another hit off of the joint before putting it out in the ashtray. After blowing the smoke out of his lungs he looks at me, his eyes soft. “Maybe,” he finally answers in almost a whisper.


I slide closer to him and readjust my body so I’m resting my head on his chest. He tentatively rests his arm across my torso. I can hear his heart beating from here. A sound I once fell asleep to at night; a sound I once took for granted; a sound that’s now the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard; a sound I never want to stop hearing.


He reaches beside him on the bed and grabs a cigarette. “Maybe you should stop smoking,” I suggest.


He laughs. “What’s the point now?”


I sigh. “Brian, don’t say that,” I insist.


“Well it’s true, isn’t it?” he asks, eyebrow cocked as he places the cigarette in his mouth and lights it, inhaling deeply.


“Maybe not,” I tell him.


“Hmm.” I bury my head deeper into his chest and breathe in his scent. He’s still uncomfortable with me touching him like this, I can tell, but he’s at least come to accept that I’m here to stay, and he hasn’t argued with me about it since we had that discussion. It’s been a week and we’ve settled into our old routine again, only now the night drags on and most of the time I don’t leave until the wee hours of the morning, if I leave at all. Sometimes he’ll fall asleep and I’ll just lie here, watching him, until the sun rises.


Sometimes I think he’s still expecting me to up and leave. He knows I’m not planning on it, but maybe he thinks this will all wear thin soon enough and I’ll scamper on home. Well, he’ll be waiting forever if that’s true. I’m here to stay.


Though I spend a lot of time with Brian, I’ve managed to work in some time to spend with my mother and catching up with Daphne; sometimes I even sleep, but not much. I feel like if I close my eyes, I might miss something. I don’t want to miss any of these moments; specifically, the ones when I’m with Brian.


“Radiation starts tomorrow,” his voice brings me out of my thoughts.


“Can I go with you?” I almost asked if he wanted me to take him there, but I knew I had better word it differently. If it sounded as if he was unable to drive himself there and back, he’d never agree to my going. Brian Kinney doesn’t need anyone – what a crock of shit.


He huffs a laugh. “Why the fuck would you want to be there? It’s not like you can be in the room,” he tells me.


“That doesn’t matter. I still want to go,” I press.


“And watch soap operas in the waiting room for a couple of hours?” he asks as if it’s the most stupid thing he’s ever heard.


I sigh. “Can I go or not?” I demand.


He hesitates for a moment. “Whatever,” he shrugs. That’s better.


“So how often do you have treatment?” I ask him.


“Monday through Friday for six weeks,” he sighs, obviously dreading it.


“Shit,” I breathe. That’s a big difference from the last time he underwent radiation. It was a long time ago, but I don’t even remember it lasting more than a couple of weeks.


“You can say that again.”


“Shit,” I repeat with a ghost of a grin. He starts to laugh softly, and I follow, still feeling the lingering effects of the pot we just smoked. A few minutes pass and I feel his breathing even out, signaling he’s fallen asleep. I yawn and begin to drift off, still listening to the strong beats of his heart beneath my head.


___________


I softly rub his back as he heaves into the toilet. He’s been throwing up for about two hours, so it should be over soon. By now it’s just dry heaves anyway, with nothing left in his stomach to expel. He lays his head on the cool surface of the toilet seat – too sick to even care about how unappealing that would be to him in any other situation – and sighs heavily. I press a wet washcloth to his forehead and he closes his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.


Brian’s been in treatment for a month now and the schedule is like clockwork. He gets up, attempts to eat breakfast – though it hardly ever consists of anything more than toast, and only that much because the doctors insisted he have something on his stomach before going to the hospital – and then he has his daily treatment while I wait for him in one of those uncomfortable waiting room chairs, not that I’m complaining, and then we drive to the loft. Exactly three hours later the wave of nausea hits and we spend the next couple of hours in the bathroom, him vomiting the contents of his stomach into the toilet while I do anything I can to help.


Most of the time he allows me to offer him water in between or a damp cloth toward the end. If he feels especially shitty, he’ll even let me rub his back and talk to him like I am now. He says that the sound of my voice takes his mind off of how bad he feels. I can’t help but feel incredibly happy when he says that.


“I think I’m done,” he tells me. I nod and help him to his feet so he can walk over to the sink and vigorously brush his teeth and splash cold water on his face, just like the other days, before we head into the bedroom. And, just like the other days, this is about the time that Gus gets home from school. He drops his bag to the floor and heads straight to Brian’s bedroom and stands in the doorway.


Brian drops onto the bed, oblivious to Gus’ presence, buries his head in the pillow and attempts to sleep. I pull the duvet over him before glancing up at Gus.


“How is he?” Gus asks, just like he does every day.


“I’m fabulous,” Brian grumbles from beneath the covers before I have the chance to answer.


Gus huffs a laugh. “You damn well better be.”


I vaguely hear Brian mumble, “Watch your fucking mouth, Sonnyboy,” before drifting off. He’ll be asleep for an hour or so, and then he’ll wake up and attempt to spend time with Gus. He’s done throwing up for the night, so later I’ll try to force him to eat some dinner before he finally stumbles back to bed and falls asleep just so he can wake up the next morning and do it all over again.


To put it lightly, treatment has been hell for Brian. He tries so hard to keep how bad it actually is from Gus, but I know he’s very well aware of how awful his dad feels all the time. Weekends aren’t so bad since he has a much-needed break from treatment. He’ll get a lot of work done and spend more time out of the bedroom. I keep telling him he should rest on weekends and maybe he won’t feel so bad during the week. He usually tells me he can rest when he’s dead. I hate it when he says that.


Days like this are what we consider normal days – almost good days, especially compared to the others. Every so often, mostly on a Monday or a Tuesday, Brian will be so tired and so very unwilling to go through this shit for another week, he just lies in bed the entire day – not sleeping – just lying crunched up on the bed groaning quietly. On those days he won’t let anyone near him and he shuts himself out to the world. Gus and I just sit in the living room or the kitchen, talking about other things, trying not to let on that the only thing we’re really thinking about is Brian – waiting for the day to pass and hoping tomorrow will be a better one.


Now I’m finishing up dinner while Gus does his homework at the bar in the kitchen. “So, how’s the girlfriend?” I ask him.


He glares at me. “For the millionth time, she’s not my fucking girlfriend.”


I turn from the stove and point at him. “Hey, you heard your dad, watch your fucking mouth,” I laugh, only half serious. “She may not be your girlfriend now, but you want her to be, don’t you?”


He shakes his head in denial. “I don’t do girlfriends,” he grumbles.


I sigh dramatically. “Oh please, don’t even start with that shit.”


He laughs. “But really, it’s not like that,” he says with a shrug.


“Have you had sex with her?” I ask out of curiosity. His eyes widen. “Oh come on, you can tell me. I won’t tell Brian.”


He guffaws and shakes his head. “He doesn’t care. He said I should’ve fucked her a long time ago.” I huff a laugh, how very Brian of him. He sighs and lowers his head. “No, I haven’t. We haven’t even kissed or – anything.”


“What’s stopping you?” I inquire.


He sighs. “I don’t know. It’s just – she’s great. I don’t want to – ruin anything, you know?”


I nod. “Yeah, I know. But if the way she looks at you and acts around you is any implication, I don’t think she’d turn you down if you made a move,” I tell him honestly.


He raises an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? She doesn’t look at me like anything. She only sees me as a friend,” he tells me. “It’s just as well anyways.”


“Oh come on, why else would she want to come over all the time?” I ask him.


He smiles. “She really likes Dad – she thinks he’s, like, the coolest dad ever,” he says in his best preppy girl voice. Ashley visits the house every other weekend, usually on a Saturday, and spends the day with all of us. She does like Brian, that’s obvious. She’s a sweet girl, and absolutely gorgeous. I know Gus has been pining for her for awhile, though he’d never admit it.


“You know that’s not the only reason why she wants to be here,” I insist.


“Do I?” he asks, and I’m not sure if it’s rhetorical or not, but before I can think of an answer he starts again. “I don’t want to talk about it. And I definitely don’t need any advice from you. I mean, what the hell do you know about girls?”


I pick up a dish towel from the counter and toss it at him in mock anger. “Fine, then I won’t give you any advice. Just don’t come crying to me when she finds someone else because she’s sick of waiting for you to do something.”


He looks at me for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. “Anyways –“ he says loudly.


I laugh and glance toward the bedroom when I hear a sound. “Morning sweetheart,” I greet Brian in what he calls my “Stepford fag” voice as he comes down the stairs into the kitchen. He grunts in response and slumps onto the stool next to Gus. “How do you feel?” I ask.


“Like shit,” he answers, his voice hoarse from vomiting earlier. He glances over at Gus, “How’s the girlfriend?”


Gus sighs dramatically. “I hate both of you.”


I laugh once and Brian smirks at me, his eyes dark and tired. “What’d I say?”


“I was just giving him a hard time about Ashley,” I explain.


Brian nods and looks back at Gus. “Well if you don’t marry her, I will,” he tells him.


“I’m not talking about it anymore,” Gus says in a sarcastically cheerful tone.


I laugh again. “Dinner will be ready in five.”


“Finally,” Gus grumbles. “My stomach is eating my spine over here.” I shake my head at his antics.


“I’m going to take a shower,” Brian announces and stands up from the stool.


“Aren’t you going to eat?” I call out as he walks toward the bathroom.


“Later,” he mumbles. I watch his steps become unsteady and sluggish before he finally pauses before he even reaches the stairs and I see him hold his hand up to his eyes. He wavers slightly.


“Brian – you okay?” I barely get the words out of my mouth before Brian collapses to the ground.


“DAD!” Gus calls out and rushes over to Brian. The three plates I have in my hands crash to the ground and I run to Brian’s still body on the ground. Oh fuck – no, no, no, NO!


Chapter 9 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

 

Gus and I have been sitting anxiously, fidgeting in the ER waiting room for two hours. I’m pretty sure Gus has no fingernails left after chewing on them for so long and I feel like I’m going to have an anxiety attack at any moment. What the fuck is taking so long? Shit, I hope nothing’s wrong. I don’t know what I’d do if – no, I can even think about it. He’s going to be fine; he has to be, right?


When Gus finally sees the doctor walk down the hall towards us, he immediately jumps out of his seat into a standing position and I follow suit. “Doctor, what’s going on?” Gus asks worriedly.


The doctor, holding what I assume to be Brian’s chart in his hands, glances from Gus to me and then back to Gus. “Your dad was severely dehydrated, causing his blood pressure to drop and that’s what most likely led to him losing consciousness. That, in addition to exhaustion from the radiation treatment, I suspect. Also – how well has he been eating while in treatment?”


I shake my head. “Not as much as he should be,” I answer. “He’s never been a big eater, but he’s been vomiting too, so –“ I trail off when the doctor nods.


“Well, he needs to eat better. In order for the treatment to work at its optimal level, he needs to consume a sufficient amount of calories each day. I’m going to go ahead and prescribe a stronger anti-emetic for nausea so he can keep something on his stomach. We’re administering IV fluids into him right now and we’ll need to keep him overnight to monitor his condition, but he’ll be discharged early in the morning if everything goes as expected. I’ve also sent off some blood work. But as for the future, he needs to take better care of himself. If he doesn’t keep hydrated and start eating better, he’ll end up right back here again– or worse,” he warns.


Gus and I nod in agreement. “Can we see him?” Gus and I ask simultaneously.


“Sure. Room 361, down the hall on the left. He’s awake now, but he needs his rest. I understand he has another treatment scheduled for tomorrow morning – he can leave straight from here for that, so let him get a few good hours of sleep tonight,” he urges us. We promise we will and thank him for his help before he walks away to tend to other patients.


I follow Gus to Brian’s room. When we walk through the door, we see a nurse leaning over his bed checking his blood pressure. She removes the cuff when she’s done and smiles at Brian. “Are you in any pain right now?”


Brian shrugs. “Just a headache,” he tells her and she nods.


“That’s pretty normal after a syncope episode. Rate the pain on a scale of 0 to 10 for me,” she replies.


Brian grins at her request. “What number gets me drugs?” he asks playfully.


I scoff and the nurse laughs. “You know it doesn’t work that way,” she says.


Brian sighs dramatically. “Damn. Well, in that case, it’s a four,” he answers with what I assume to be the honest response.


She nods again. “Want me to get you something for it?” she asks him.


He shakes his head. “I think I’ll live,” he tells her. She nods and smiles at him, then at Gus and me, before exiting the room, promising to return in a couple of hours to recheck his vitals.


Once the nurse is out the door, Gus walks over to the bed Brian’s sitting in and points a finger in his face. “You scared the hell out of us. If you ever do that again, I’ll kill you,” he rants dramatically.


Brian laughs. “My son, the drama queen,” he muses. “And he’s not even gay, imagine that.”


“We’re going to have to put you on 24-hour watch so nothing like this happens again,” I tell him from where I’m still standing near the door.


He shrugs. “I thought I was already on that – with you always around, bugging the hell out of me.”


“You complaining?” I ask him with a smile.


“Never,” he drawls sarcastically, but gives me a small grin back.


“Do you need anything or --?” Gus asks.


Brian nods. “Yeah, I need for you two to go home and go to sleep. I’m fucking fine. I already have the nurses at my beck and call, hovering over me at all times, there’s no point in either of you being here.”


Gus shakes his head. “Forget it, I’m not leaving,” he insists.


“Oh yes you are,” Brian replies.


“Why?”


“Because I said so, that’s why,” his voice is stern but gentle.


Gus throws his hands up. “Oh, now you start getting all ‘daddy’ on me?” he asks. Brian huffs a laugh and looks to me for help.


I nod slightly to him. “Come on, Gus. We’ll come back in the morning.” Gus knows as well as I do that there’s no arguing it; Brian had made up his mind; he finally nods begrudgingly. He hugs his dad tightly around the neck for a couple long minutes before saying goodbye for now and starting towards the door. When he notices I’m not following, he looks at me questioningly. “Wait in the car for me. I’ll be right out,” I tell him. He nods and leaves the room, leaving me alone with Brian.


I walk up to the bed, sit on the edge, and grab Brian by the arm in a faux – or not-so-faux – threat. “You scared the hell out of us. If you do that again, I’ll kill you,” I repeat Gus’ words to him and he laughs and shakes his head. I lean in to hug him and he returns the gesture. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I whisper to him. He just tightens his grip around my back.


I eventually pull back from the hug so I can look at his face. His eyes are tired. Seeing Brian in a hospital bed, even though I know he’s alright, is making me emotional, but I fight the tears threatening to fall from my eyes. I glance down to his lips and my body yearns to lean forward and kiss him – just so I know for sure he’s okay. I avert my gaze back to his eyes and I see his eyebrows are knitted together in confusion and curiosity. I take a deep breath and prepare to stand up and leave, but my body has other ideas; I feel myself lean forward and gently brush my lips against Brian’s in a chaste kiss. My face lingers close to his for a moment before I reluctantly pull away. He still looks a bit confused, but a smirk is now playing on his lips.


“Later,” he tells me quietly.


I nod and stand up, running my hand over his arm before finally moving toward the door. “Later,” I return before I close the door behind me.


______________


Not even twenty-four hours after what I’d consider a near-death experience, Brian is sitting up – instead of resting like he should be doing – at his desk, deeply immersed with something on his computer. I first assumed it was something with work, but his demeanor suggests otherwise.


“Brian, what are you doing over there?” I finally ask him from my spot on the couch.


“Hm? Oh, nothing,” he mumbles, still not looking up from his activity.


I stand up and walk over to him. He quickly shifts the laptop so I can’t see the screen. “What?” I ask.


He sighs. “Nothing. I’m just – working on my will.”


I immediately turn and walk away. “So – Gus is kind of late, isn’t he?” I quickly change the subject.


“Oh so now you don’t want to talk about it?” he laughs.


I turn back around to face him. “It’s not funny,” I tell him incredulously. I really don’t want to talk about this. I was hoping we’d never talk about this; discussing Brian’s will just makes it so – real.


“I know. But it’s necessary.” I sigh and shake my head, trying to find something in the kitchen to keep my hands busy. “You’re in it – you know,” he tells me, hesitantly.


I turn toward him again. “What? Why?” I ask, a bit shocked.


He shrugs. “Because, you’re kind of – important to me,” he shrugs.


I can’t help but smile slightly for a moment at his words. “Brian, I don’t want anything from you. The only thing I want is something you can’t give me,” I inform him.


He raises an eyebrow and smirks. “One last goodbye fuck?” he asks sarcastically.


I shake my head. “I said something you can’t give me, not something you won’t,” I tell him pointedly and sigh. “I want – more time, a lot more time. I want the last ten years back.”


He nods a little. We look at each other in silence for a few minutes before he turns back to the computer screen and clears his throat. “So – I’m pretty sure Gus would have a fit if he didn’t get the Vette,” I groan but he continues. “And of course he’s getting a shit load of money. I’m thinking of giving him the loft too – what do you think?”


“I think I don’t want to discuss this with you,” I say again.


He ignores me. “I suppose Theodore can take over Kinnetik; he’s been running things for over two months and the building is still standing, so I’ll assume he’s capable of controlling it without my assistance.”


I sigh heavily. “Well I hope I’m getting money because that’s the only reason I’m here--“ I start, my voice dripping with sarcasm.


“Of course,” he says, oblivious.


“I wasn’t being serious,” I tell him, raising my voice.


He laughs. “Whatever. And you get the house – you can do whatever you want with it,” he goes on, typing something else into the computer.


My eyebrows furrow together. “You just said Gus was getting the loft,” I say.


“He is,” Brian answers simply.


I shake my head. When realization finally dawns on me, I can’t seem to form a complete sentence. “But – wait, you mean – t-the house? You kept the fucking house?” I ask, approaching him again.


“Well yeah, what the hell was I supposed to do with it?” he asks dismissively as if it’s no big deal. No big deal my ass!


Suddenly I feel like I’m the one who’s going to pass out. “I just – I guess I thought you would’ve sold it a long time ago.”


He looks up at me. “Yeah, well – I didn’t. It’s yours, remember?” he reminds me.


I’m dumbstruck. He kept the house; our house, in West Virginia. After ten years, he still hasn’t sold it. My mind is racing and I don’t know what to say.  I need to work this out in my head before I try to talk to Brian about it. I drop the subject and ask him something I’ve been wondering for over a month.


“I’ve been meaning to ask you – what happened with Michael?” I ask softly.


Brian flinches and averts his gaze so he’s no longer making eye contact with me. “He’s – Mikey will be okay. He’s just having a hard time with this,” he says finally.


“With what? Being here for his best friend when he needs him?” I ask, incredulous.


“It just scares him, you know? I mean – I get it, I do. The last time I saw him I told him he didn’t have to be here if he didn’t want to be, or if he couldn’t,” he pauses for a moment. “I haven’t seen him in over a month.”


I shake my head. “You may get it, but I don’t. You’re his friend – you’ve always been there for each other, and now shouldn’t be any different. Hell, now is when he should want to be here more. He should –“


“Justin,” he cuts me off, his eyes sharp. “Don’t.”


I sigh but then nod. It doesn’t involve me; I should stay out of it. It just pisses me off that Michael could actually stay away because he’s scared of what could possibly happen to Ben and Hunter one day. It’s not happening to them – it’s happening to Brian. Maybe that’s the part he’s scared of. I can see how much it hurts Brian, though, to have lost his best friend over this. I want so badly to help, but what could I do?


Just then, the loft door slides open and Gus storms in with his head down, hair covering his eyes. He slams the door behind him, throws his bag to the floor and stomps toward the bathroom, breathing heavily in anger, without saying a word to either of us.


“Gus –“ Brian starts, but he’s cut off by the bathroom door slamming shut. He looks at me and I shrug. I hear the water running before I hear Gus hiss in what sounds like pain and start cussing to himself.


“Gus, you okay?” I call out to him. There’s no answer. I walk to the bathroom door and knock lightly. “Gus –“


“I’m fine,” he snaps. Brian and I wait for a couple of minutes before Gus finally emerges from the bathroom. When I get a look at his face, I gasp.


Suddenly Brian is up out of his chair and standing in front of Gus. “What the fuck happened to your face?” he demands.


Gus flinches in pain when Brian reaches up and touches his cheek, which has a large distinctive black and blue bruise forming. His left eye looks swollen and his lip is split and still bleeding slightly. He shakes Brian off and walks past us into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Nothing, I’m fine,” he tells us again.


“You don’t look fine,” I speak up.


Gus laughs once. “You should see the other guy.”


“Did you get into a fight at school or something?” I ask him.


He shrugs. “Some asshole said some stupid shit, so I shut him up,” he offers. I can tell he’s still pissed off because his hands are shaking.


“What asshole? And what shit?” Brian asks.


Gus sighs. “Remember Angela?” Brian nods. “Remember her being over here that one day and seeing -- ” Brian nods again before Gus can finish. “Well, it seems she couldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut about it. Thanks to her, the whole fucking school knows and Jason Hall felt the need to comment on it.”


“Wait – did I miss something?” I ask them.


Brian shakes his head. “Gus had this girlfriend –“


Gus cuts him off. “She wasn’t my girlfriend. She just wanted to be. It was over six months ago, and she wanted to come over and hang out. I was in the bathroom and she decided she was going to snoop around and read shit that didn’t belong to her.”


“There was something on my desk that implied I was positive, and she saw it,” Brian explains and suddenly I see where all of this is going.


“I was pissed, but she said she wasn’t going to tell anyone and that it was no big deal. Well, apparently she’s not too happy with me hanging out with Ashley so much, so she told someone, and they told someone, and they told someone, and – you get it.”


Brian sighs and shakes his head, then walks into the bedroom, probably to grab his cigarettes. “So what did this guy say to you?” I ask.


Gus lowers his voice like he didn’t want Brian to hear, though we both know he hears every word. Brian always had ears like a hawk. “He said – he said something along the lines of my faggot dad deserves to die of AIDS, and that I probably have it too, with a few queer jabs thrown in.”


I nod. I definitely remember the assholes from high school and the stupid shit they say. “So what did you do?” I ask.


“I fucking beat his ass, what do you think?” Gus tells me emphatically.


I smile slightly at him, proud of him standing up for his dad. He sighs heavily and runs his hands through his hair. “You didn’t get suspended, did you?” Brian’s voice sounds again as he returns to the middle of the room, a few feet from me.


Gus shakes his head. “No, this happened after we were dismissed. It was in the parking lot, but none of the teachers saw it happen,” Gus explains. There’s a sudden knock on the door. Gus starts moving first and goes to see who’s there.


“Hey,” I hear him greet someone, but I can’t see them from my spot in the kitchen.


“Shit, are you okay?” I hear Ashley’s soft, concerned voice respond.


“Yeah, I’m fine,” Gus tells her and backs into the loft so she can come in.


Ashley takes a few steps forward and reaches up to gently caresses Gus’ swollen bruised cheek. “No, you’re not. You look like hell,” she tells him.


“Wow, thanks,” he says sarcastically.


She smiles slightly. “You know what I mean,” she shakes her head. “They said Jason’s nose is broken,” she tells him.


“Good,” comes Gus’ unconcerned reply.


“I can’t believe that bitch did that to you. I should beat her ass.” She then glances toward Brian and me, finally noticing our presence. “Oh, hey!” she says, smiling suddenly. “Wow, you look like you feel a lot better than the last time I was here, Mr. Kinney.”


Brian smirks his thanks. “It’s Brian,” he corrects her. “And you look particularly beautiful today.”


“Thank you – Brian,” she says with a laugh and her cheeks turn rosy pink. Brian’s charm never fails.


Gus notices this and rolls his eyes. “Anyways –“ he says loudly.


Ashley returns her attention to Gus. “So, I came by because I was wondering if we could talk for a minute – outside?” she asks him. Gus nods, looking more than a little curious, and follows her out into the hall before shutting the loft door behind them.


I meet Brian’s eyes again. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “What?” I ask him. “Are you mad at him because he got in a fight?”


“More like mad at me because he got in a fight. He shouldn’t have to deal with that shit at school,” Brian tells me, finally lighting up the cigarette he retrieved from the bedroom.


“He can handle it,” I assure him.


“It shouldn’t be like that. Imagine what those fuckers are going to say about him, to him, now – because of me.”


I shake my head. “Brian, all kids go through trouble in high school. I did, remember?”


He nods. “Yeah, I had something to do with that, too.”


I laugh. “Sorry to break it to you babe, but I was gay before you came along,” I try to lighten the mood but to no avail.


“You know what I’m talking about,” he says and walks back into the bedroom.


I sigh. Yeah, I know. “You know damn well it wasn’t your fault I got bashed,” I tell him as I follow him. “And this isn’t your fault either. Shit happens.”


He waves his hand, dismissing my comment. “Whether that’s true or not, that’s not the point. The point is – this could lead to something worse.”


“It won’t,” I tell him. He turns to look at me questioningly and raises an eyebrow. I smile at him. “If he’s anything like you, and he is, he’ll come out of this a better person because of it. Kids are assholes; you know that as well as I do. He’ll be fine. He knows what he’s doing.”


Brian just sighs and shakes his head again. “I don’t know.” He pauses for a moment before he gestures toward the door, “I bet they’re making out.”


I laugh once. “You think?” I ask, thankful for the change of subject.


“Why else would she come over here after what happened? ‘Oh Gus, you’re so strong, so brave, so – take me right now’,” he says in his best girl voice and I shake my head at his antics.


Gus finally opens the door and walks in. His face gives nothing away until he looks up at us; the huge smile that slowly graces his features confirms Brian’s guess. Brian and I laugh again as Gus performs a victory dance in the middle of the loft.

Chapter 10 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

 

I’m changing clothes in the bedroom while Brian showers when there’s a knock on the loft door. Today was Brian’s last radiation treatment, so we’re celebrating by going out to dinner with Gus – if the little shit would hurry up and get home. I jog happily down the steps to the door and slide it open, revealing a handsome man, probably in his late thirties with short dark hair, a scruffy face, and gorgeous blue eyes.


“Hi, can I help you?” I ask politely. The mystery man is dressed in snug black jeans, black boots, and a light blue button-up shirt covering what I imagine to be an impressive body. I wonder who he is.


He looks shocked for a moment and then glances behind me into the loft. “Is – Brian here?” he asks hesitantly.


I nod. “He’s in the shower.”


Suddenly, I hear footsteps rushing up the stairs. “I’m late, I’m late, I know – oh,” Gus’ steps falter as he notices the man standing in front of me. “Kevin.”


Kevin. Hm, Brian hasn’t mentioned a Kevin; neither has Gus. My curiosity peaks.


“Hi, Gus,” Kevin replies with a weak smile. “I, uh – I came to talk to your dad.”


Gus shrugs. “You can try.” He walks past us into the loft. I glance back at Kevin and gesture for him to come in. He tentatively steps forward and his eyes go straight to the bathroom door as we hear Brian open it and walk through, looking beautiful in worn jeans and a tight gray t-shirt, his hair wet from the shower. When he sees the three of us standing in the living room, he stops dead in his tracks. His eyes flash with something I can’t identify.


“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands, his eyes fixed on Kevin.


I glance at Gus, the question in my eyes, and he shakes his head.


“I wanted to talk to you,” Kevin tells him.


Brian shakes his head. “We have nothing to talk about, Kevin.”


Kevin’s eyes plead with Brian. “Please,” he whispers, almost desperately.


I look at Brian to see what his response will be, confused as hell about what’s going on right now, and then I feel Gus touch my arm. When he catches my eye, he jerks his head toward the door and starts to pull me toward the hallway. I reluctantly let him lead me out, but Brian’s voice interrupts us.


“No, you two stay,” he insists and then raises an eyebrow at Kevin. “Well – go ahead, talk.”


Kevin nervously glances at me. “Can’t we be alone?” he asks.


“No,” Brian answers. “Either talk with them here or leave.”


I see Kevin take a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he breathes.


“Sorry’s bullshit,” Brian replies, just as I knew he would.


Kevin nods. “Yeah, I know. I just – I never wanted us to be like this,” he begins. “I always thought we’d still be friends, even if we didn’t stay together.”


My eyes widen. Together? Brian and Kevin were – together? As in, a couple? A relationship?  Brian’s eyes cut to me for a moment before returning to Kevin. “So – you’re here because you want to be friends?” he asks.


Kevin sighs. “No. I want to be – us again,” he tries again. Suddenly my throat goes dry. Brian laughs humorlessly and walks across the floor until he stands about three feet from Kevin.


“That’s impossible,” Brian tells him.


“No, it’s not. Come on, Bri,” he takes a few steps towards Brian but is stopped when Brian holds his hand out. Kevin puts his hands up in surrender. “I just – I want another chance. I fucked up, I know that. Things just got so crazy and everything with you – it scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t imagine losing you; I still can’t – but I’d rather be here until then than to lose you now because of my stupidity.”


“You’ve already lost me,” Brian says softly.


Kevin’s breaths are shaky and I can tell he’s trying hard to keep himself together. “I love you,” he blurts out suddenly. The words nearly knock the breath out of me. I look back at Brian, anxious to hear his response. It doesn’t come for a long time, though. I can’t decipher his facial expression. I feel like we’re in the middle of a soap opera; I look at Gus, who has moved to the window, obviously uncomfortable.


Finally, Brian speaks. “Let’s go into the hallway,” he says. Kevin nods and follows Brian out of the door, closing it behind them. After a few moments, I hear their voices, but I can’t make any of the words out. I wish I could hear what they were saying. Did this guy really love Brian? More importantly, did Brian love him? And who was this guy, anyway? It’s obvious he and Brian were together, but when? How long had it been over? Is it – is it still over?


I glance at Gus again. He takes a deep breath and shrugs. “What was that?” I ask him in a loud whisper. He doesn’t answer, just looks down at his shoes and shakes his head.


I hear Kevin’s voice getting louder. I can make out only a few frantic, desperately spoken words at a time. “Please…sorry…need….love.” Love; I sigh and run my fingers through my hair in frustration. Brian’s replies are too quiet to make out, so I just wait, staring at the door.


What if Brian forgives him for whatever he did and they get back together? Where would that leave me? My heart starts to pound in my chest. I can’t help the jealousy that’s radiating through my body. What if Brian asks me to leave? What if he decides that if he has Kevin, he doesn’t need – or want – me around anymore? I want Brian to be happy more than anything, but I don’t want to give him up. I can make him happy – I’ve done it before, and I can do it again. I’ve made so much progress over the last month or so; I can’t just leave now.


I don’t have much time to think about it – and honestly, I don’t even know how long they’ve been out there when the sound of the door sliding open jerks me from my thoughts. Brian comes though, alone, and shuts the door behind him. He looks at Gus and me, his face giving nothing away. “Ready to go?” he asks.


“Yep,” Gus answers quickly, walking to meet Brian at the door. They both look at me expectantly. “You coming?” Gus asks.


I nod. “Yeah,” I force out and walk to the door with them. We make it down the stairs and into the Corvette without running into Kevin, and for that I’m grateful. None of us speak on the way to the restaurant, but once we get out of the car, everything goes back to normal. We talk, laugh, and eat throughout dinner as if nothing had happened.


We get home at around nine. Gus makes a beeline for the shower and I follow Brian up to the bedroom. The silence is killing me and I need to know what happened earlier. “So –“ I begin, but then pause. He drops to the bed, removes his shoes, and then looks up at me, eyebrows raised in question. “I guess I missed a lot while I was gone,” I try, in a lame attempt to get him to bring Kevin’s name up on his own.


Lame or not, it sort of worked. He clears his throat and shrugs. “It’s a long story,” he tells me.


“I have time,” I reply. He’s quiet for a minute, so I continue. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business. I just – no one ever mentioned him to me before.”


He laughs. “Yeah, Gus refuses to speak his name. He thinks it’ll set me off or something.” Set him off? As in anger? Or sadness? I don’t ask. “We were – together for awhile, that’s all.”


I plop down next to him on the bed. “Seemed like more than that,” I tell him.


Brian takes a deep breath. “We lived together for almost four years,” he admits.


Holy. Shit. “Wow,” is all I say, unable to think of anything else. Four years. Four fucking years?


“Yeah. We met at the hospital – he’s positive too,” he looks at me, waiting for a response. When I don’t offer one, he continues. “We kind of dated, I guess. It was easy with him. I didn’t have to – worry, you know? About if the condom broke or –“ he trails off and I’m biting my lip so hard I can almost taste blood. “Anyways, he moved in here after about a year. The year after that, Gus moved in. It was all really – comfortable. He was the only guy I let myself get close to after –“ He doesn’t need to continue because I know what he’s talking about. After I left.


I swallow hard. “So how long ago did it end?” I ask.


“A few months ago. Right after I got diagnosed with KS. Things had been iffy with Michael for awhile and I wasn’t – in a good place, I guess,” he tells me.


“Of course you weren’t,” I rationalize.


“It scared him. Like it scared Michael, only worse. He started not being around as much, we started fighting more, and – I don’t know, one day he just left. He said he couldn’t handle it; that he had to get out of here – away from me for awhile.”  By the time he finishes, his voice is nearly a whisper.


“And you haven’t heard from him  – until today?” I ask. He nods slightly. My chest tightens. Jesus, Brian lost his best friend, his lover, and the woman he considered his mother – for all intents and purposes –within six months. I can’t imagine what toll this took on Brian’s health. If it weren’t for Gus, who knows what he would’ve done. I understand now why he didn’t consider treatment a must – he was alone. I place my hand on Brian’s leg and, thankfully, he makes no effort to move it. “So now he wants to come back?”


Brian shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”


I clear my throat and mentally prepare myself to ask the next question. “Did – did you love him?”


He huffs a laugh, then sighs. “I don’t know,” he answers. “Like I said, it was easy with him – effortless. We had something in common, and it just worked. We weren’t exactly going to get married and have kids, though,” he says with a dry laugh.


I’m not entirely sure how I feel about his answer. If he really loved Kevin, would he tell me? “What did you tell him earlier? Are you going to give him another chance?” I ask.


He looks at me. “What do you think I told him?” he asks. I realize it’s not rhetorical and I shrug, waiting for the answer. He shakes his head. “We’re not getting back together. I told him no,” he finally tells me.


I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. “Why?” I ask him, genuinely curious to know the answer.


He holds my stare for a moment, searching my eyes. He almost looks hurt – or maybe lost – but before I can figure it out he drops his eyes to the duvet and shrugs. “I just – don’t want to be with him. I don’t have feelings for him anymore.”


I don’t know everything there is to know about Brian, that’s for sure, but I do know one thing. Once Brian loves you, he’ll always love you. He can’t just turn it on and off like some people seem to do. Was what Kevin did unforgivable? No, and I’m sure Brian doesn’t hold it against him. So does that mean he never actually loved him? The thought of him and Brian together makes my stomach tighten.


“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s over – it’s done. There’s nothing more to say,” he tells me and I nod. I can honestly say I’ll be glad if I never hear Kevin’s name again.


__________________


It’s been a few days since the fiasco with you-know-who, and Brian hasn’t mentioned him again. I’m pretty sure he’s been calling his cell, though, because I’ve noticed on many occasions a call being ignored by Brian. I’m sitting in the living room sketching, thinking back on the last few days. Brian has been feeling much better now that the radiation is over. The nausea is gone and his appetite is back. He doesn’t sleep during the day anymore and it’s almost like he’s back to his old self. He’s even started to gain some of the weight back. His last blood work a couple weeks ago showed a definite decrease in cancer cells, and now we’re awaiting the call from the doctor on the most recent tests he’s undergone to see how effective treatment was.


“Justin,” I hear Brian’s voice call out from the bathroom, tearing me away from my thoughts.


“Yeah?” I answer, still sketching.


“Come here,” he demands.


I immediately stop what I’m doing, put my sketch pad and pencil on the couch, and jog into the bathroom, where he’s standing facing away from me, shirtless. He’s looking down at himself but I can’t see around him.


“What’s going on? You okay?” I ask, beginning to worry. He turns around and looks at me. I glance down at his chest and my hand automatically comes up to cover my mouth in pure shock. “Oh my God,” I whisper from behind my hand.


He glances back down at his torso. His chest, which was littered with over a dozen of those ugly purple lesions just six weeks ago, was now nearly free of any imperfections. There were three small scars across his rib cage where lesions used to be, but even those seemed to be fading. I look back up at his face and I see a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.


I shake my head and start to laugh in pure happiness and shock at the vision before me. Christ, he almost looks like he did before I left. His body still a bit too thin, his face still a bit pale, but he was the same gorgeous Brian Kinney he always had been. Unable to control myself, I rush over to him and nearly tackle him in a hug. His arms immediately come up around my waist to return the gesture. “It worked – it’s working –“ I keep saying it, nearly delirious with excitement.


“Seems that way,” he says. I hug him tighter and he lifts me slightly off my feet. A couple weeks ago he would’ve been too weak to do that. God, I can’t believe it.


When the hug ends, I pull away with a huge grin on my face. My breath catches in my throat when I see his eyes. They’ve changed – darker now, wild. I know that look. Before I know what’s happening, his hands are back on me and he pushes me roughly against the bathroom wall. I moan deeply when his lips crash down onto mine. My hands immediately go up to his back, gripping at his skin, pulling his body impossibly closer to mine. The kiss is heated and urgent; our lips, mouth, tongue, and teeth fighting for dominance. His hands grip my hips and pull them against his. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on, and judging by the hardness against my hip, Brian’s in much the same predicament. My body hums with pleasure and excitement.


His tongue runs over the roof of my mouth and I battle it with mine. I almost forgot what this felt like – how good it is. I dig my fingernails into his back as he grinds his groin against mine. I feel like I can’t breathe, but I don’t care. I’m willing to never breathe again as long as I can have this. No one kisses like Brian Kinney – no one, and I’ve been wanting this – dreaming about this – for the past ten years. I briefly wonder if this is a dream; if I’ll eventually wake up on the couch, none of this having happened. I decide I don’t care, and I refuse to ruin it.


“Bed,” I urgently breathe against his lips. I feel him nod and we make our way into the bedroom without breaking the kiss. I nearly trip on a shoe, or my own feet, or – oh who gives a shit? Brian yanks my shirt over my head, our lips losing contact for a split second. He looks at my face and everything seems to freeze. Our breathing is heavy and our chests are heaving with exertion and desire. He looks confused and shocked at what’s going on and I see realization hit him like a boulder. I shake my head, trying to break the curse, and lean back up to kiss him again. No – no, Brian, don’t do this. Just keep going –


His hand is suddenly on my chest, pushing me away gently. He shuts his eyes tightly and shakes his head before backing away from me. “Brian,” I whisper.


“Sorry,” he says, still shaking his head in disbelief.


I huff a laugh. “Don’t be sorry; just keep going,” I plead with him.


“I can’t – we can’t –,“ he goes on. I feel him slipping away from me and I fight mentally to not lose the moment.


“Don’t –,” I try, but I can’t think of anything to say.


Brian makes eye contact with me, sees the pleading look I have on my face, and sighs heavily. “That can’t happen,” he finally says.


“Yes, it can. We can just – a condom –,” I struggle with the words. “It’ll be fine. We can –“


He cuts me off. “Justin, if I infected you --” he pauses and shakes his head. “I can’t risk it.”


I sigh, drop down so I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, and run my hands over my face. “A long time ago, you told me it was Michael’s decision if he wanted to be with Ben. Well, this is my decision,” I tell him.


He shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’d regret it when it’s over.”


“Bullshit. I wouldn’t regret it,” I insist. “I’ve been wanting this to happen for so long. Trust me, I’ve thought about it, this isn’t a heat of the moment decision. I want – you. No apologies, no regrets, remember?”


We just look at each other for a few long moments. Neither of us notices anyone else in the loft until we hear Gus’ voice. “What’s going on?” We turn our heads in his direction. I then look down at myself, realizing I’m still shirtless, and so is Brian. Shit.


Brian clears his throat. “Nothing,” he mumbles and walks into the bathroom, only to return a few seconds later, back in his shirt. I sigh and lean down to pick up my discarded shirt from the floor in front of me and pull it on.  Brian walks down the stairs toward the door. “I’ll be back,” he says, never glancing back.


“Bri –,” I start, but I’m cut off by the loft door sliding shut. “Shit,” I hiss. I see Gus standing in the middle of the loft, wide eyed and curious.


Our eyes meet and I shake my head. “Well –“ he gestures toward the door. “Aren’t you going to go after him?”


My mind races. “He just needs some time alone,” I explain. Gus sighs but accepts my answer. We end up sitting in the living room watching TV – well, pretending to watch TV while he watches the clock and I watch the door – for a few hours.


“What the hell is taking him so long?” Gus asks, his voice frustrated. I shrug, beginning to worry. He’s been gone for three hours and it’s starting to get dark outside. “Should we go look for him?”


I shake my head and stand up. “I’ll go,” I tell him. “You okay here alone for awhile?” I ask.


He scoffs. “I’m sixteen, not six. I’ll be fine. Just go fucking get him,” he demands. I nod and head out the door, down the stairs, and into my rental car.


Now the big question – where the hell did he go?

Chapter 11 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

 

‘You’ve reached Brian Kinney. Leave a message.’


Shit. I’ve been calling Brian’s cell for the past hour while driving around Pittsburgh searching my mind for where he might be; it just keeps going straight to voicemail. I drive by the cemetery where Deb and Vic are buried, I drive by Michael and Ben’s house – though I wonder if they even still live there --, and I even drive into Liberty Avenue. I know there’s nothing here for Brian right now, but I’m running out of possibilities. I’m amazed when I see how much of this street has changed. Woody’s is still there, but the roads aren’t filled with flamboyant young men and drag queens any longer. In fact, there’s hardly anyone out tonight.


When I start looking around, I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. Poppers, Boy Toy, the Gravel Pitt, the Adonis – they’re all gone. Replaced with small shopping centers and clothing outlets. As I drive a bit further, I’m more relieved than I thought to see the Liberty Diner still standing. I glance through the glass windows, though, and see something totally foreign to me. The walls aren’t as colorful as they used to be, no advertisements hanging for the next Absolute Abs contest at Woody’s; just a few people sitting inside eating quietly. I don’t recognize any of them – not even the waiters. I hurriedly drive away, trying to clear my head. As I leave Liberty Avenue, I pass by Babylon – or, at least, what used to be Babylon. I gasp when I see no sign of what was once here – Babylon has been turned into a Target. A fucking Target. I’m surprised Brian didn’t die of a stroke as soon as he heard that news. Then I remember that Babylon belonged to Brian and that he’s the one that probably sold it to the company that runs Target. I sigh heavily, wishing I’d never driven down here tonight.


That familiar street light still stands, though. I fight the urge to get out of the car and stand under it in the hopes that I can travel back to that time when everything was good and right – nothing like now. Instead, I haul ass out of there. I can’t believe how much has changed since I’ve been gone. It’s like it’s not even Pittsburgh anymore – and it sure as hell isn’t Liberty Avenue. I silently wonder what the hell happened. How did all the sprites and fairies allow their home – their playground – to be torn down and destroyed like that? I can’t imagine all of that happening without a hell of a fight.


I’m not sure how long I’ve been driving, my mind racing at the speed of light, becoming more and more worried by the second. I’m almost surprised when I see the sign on the side of the highway. I don’t even remember how I ended up here, but it’s the only other place I can think of.


‘Welcome to West Virginia’


I remember Brian telling me the house was only thirty minutes from Pittsburgh. I’ll have to remember to tell him he’s wrong. Tonight it took me exactly 21 minutes to get here from the Pitts. I’m shocked that I didn’t get pulled over by the police, but I don’t have time to count my blessings just yet. He’s got to be here – where else would he have gone? I pull into the driveway – still not sure how I even remembered how to get here after so long – and relief floods my body as I see the Corvette parked there. I pull in behind Brian’s car, cut off the engine, and jump out of my rental. I glance into the ‘Vette, making sure it’s empty. It is, so I run up the front steps to the door. I almost knock, but I don’t. Instead, I reach down to the door knob and twist – it’s unlocked. I slowly open the door and walk inside.


I enter the living room and automatically gasp in surprise. I’d only seen this house once, and it was beautiful and extravagant then, but now – it’s breathtaking. The room is furnished with what I can only guess to be extremely expensive Italian furniture. The hardwood floors look like they’ve been redone, and even the walls are a different color. There’s even a flat screen TV at the far side of the room. It looks like the rooms you see photographed in those home magazines my mom always used to buy and admire. I swallow hard and turn to walk into the kitchen.


I stall suddenly when I see Brian sitting at the dining room table that definitely was not there before, looking at me. The room is dark, but a light from outside allows me to make out his face. I take a moment to glance around at the stainless steel refrigerator and top of the line stove and beautiful marble countertops that must’ve all been redone since the last time I was here. It’s almost like someone has been living here this whole time. I finally look back at Brian, who hasn’t made a sound since I walked in, and walk into the room to sit at the table across from him. He averts his eyes downward and sighs.


His silence is scaring the hell out of me, so I decided to speak first. “Wow,” I whisper, gesturing at the space around me. “This place is – incredible. When did all of this happen?”


When he answers, the sound of his voice surprises me and I jump a little. I almost didn’t expect him to respond. “It started about a week after you left. It was done in a month.”


I huff a laugh. Only Brian Kinney can get an entire house completely renovated and furnished in a month’s time. Then I realize what that means. We were still talking when this was being done. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask him.


He shrugs. “It was a surprise – for when you came home,” he says simply. I sigh heavily and squeeze my eyes shut. He did all of this for me, for when I came home, and I never did. “I would’ve married you, you know,” he says suddenly.


I nod. “I know,” I answer.


He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you do,” he says. There’s no anger in his voice, no sadness – nothing. He’s void of emotions. “I didn’t ask you to marry me because I thought it was what you wanted. It was what I wanted. I didn’t change just to make you happy. I changed because – because it was time for me to grow up. I wanted everything – all of it – with you.”


My chest tightens and tears threaten to fall from my eyes as I listen to him talk.


He sighs and shakes his head with a small humorless laugh. “I kept thinking you’d come back. For a long time – I expected you to call or visit. Every birthday, every holiday. It took a long time for me to accept that it wasn’t going to happen,” he pauses for a moment. “I’ll also admit that it took a long time for me to get over you. I did some really stupid shit just trying to forget. I never could forget, though. Hell, maybe I never really got over you either. But I did give up the thought of you ever coming back. I had accepted the fact that I’d probably never see you again.” His eyes meet mine. “And then you show up –“


“Yeah,” I choke out and look down at the table in front of me. I’m baffled by the fact that Brian is telling me all of this. I guess they’re right when they say the looming threat of death really does something to you.


We sit in silence for a few moments. “I did see you once,” he recalls, his voice so soft I can barely hear him, even in the silent house.


My head shoots up to meet his eyes again. What I see there scares the hell out of me. He looks – haunted, that’s the only word I can think of to describe it. His eyes are dark and he looks tired. Not physically tired, but emotionally drained, to say the least. “What?” I ask, shocked at his confession. “W-when?”


He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. Years ago – at a show in New York City. It was a couple of months before I found out I was positive. Your mom told me about it,” I shake my head in disbelief. How could she have not told me --. “No one knows I went; they thought I was away on business,” he says as if reading my thoughts. “I just – I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to see you again. I had no intention of speaking to you or letting you know I was there.” I hold my breath and wait for him to continue. I search my head for what show he’s referring to, but I can’t seem to think straight. Brian was in New York, in the same room as I was, and I didn’t know it. “You seemed – happy,” he continues with a small grin. “You were smiling, undoubtedly selling pieces like crazy. That’s all I needed to know – that you were happy. I wasn’t even there an hour before I left. I drove home that night, and that’s when I decided it was time to let go. You’d moved on with your life and it was time for me to move on with mine,” he finishes.


A few silent tears fall down my face. I fight hard to keep myself under control, but inside I’m breaking down. Brian waited for me for five years. I never had the decency to call him or visit or even let him know I was okay. “Brian, I’m sorry –“ I start.


“Don’t,” he cuts me off. “Don’t be sorry. I wanted you to be happy. I always wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. I was never angry, or resentful. Did it hurt? Yeah, it did – it killed me. But I never blamed you for anything,” he tells me, leaning forward. “I get it, Justin. I really do understand why you did it.”


“And why is that?” I ask. If I can’t remember a good reason why I did it, how the hell did he come up with one?


“You’re better off without me. I’m not good for you – good enough for you. I never was,” he says, shaking his head.


I shake my head vigorously, “Brian, no, that’s not –“


He doesn’t let me argue. “Yes, it is. You wanted something bigger, something better. So you went and made something of yourself in the way you wanted to, and no one should hold that against you. I wasn’t good enough in the beginning and, even after I changed, I still wasn’t good enough. You deserved so much better than me – and you still do, now more than ever. I just don’t get what you’re still doing here.”


He says it like it’s a fact, like something he accepted a long time ago. I don’t know much about Brian’s childhood, but I know enough to realize that his parents had a big impact on how he feels about himself. In fact, I blamed them for a long time for how fucked up he was. He grew up teaching himself to hide his feelings and build walls to keep people out – to keep from being hurt, from loving and being loved. “You know, for someone that’s notorious for being so arrogant, you sure do have some self-worth issues,” I tell him.


He laughs, and this time it’s real. “I don’t have self-worth issues. It’s just reality.”


I shake my head. “You always were the realistic type,” I mutter. “But the only thing is that it’s really the furthest thing from the truth.” He raises an eyebrow, humoring me. “The truth is that -- I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen years old. I went through hell and back trying to change you before finally accepting you for who you were. Then I went through hell and back, yet again, because I knew that regardless of the things you said – all of your bullshit philosophies – I just couldn’t stop loving you. Trust me, Brian, I’ve tried to stop loving you,” I huff a laugh. “Don’t you think that if it was true that you’re – inferior to me, or not good enough – don’t you think I would’ve been able to just leave you and never look back?”


He shrugs. “I thought that’s what you did,” he tells me.


I nod slightly. I know what he thought. It was what I tried to convince myself of for ten years of my life – ten years I’ll never get back no matter how much I want them. “Yeah, I know,” I breathe. “But I didn’t. It took me a long time to realize what a huge mistake I made, but I never stopped loving you – ever. I love you,” I nearly yell and he laughs and shakes his head, most likely thinking I’m crazy, and honestly I feel that way right now. “I love you because you’re difficult and stubborn, and ruthless, and a pain in the ass. I love you because you’re deep and amazing, and brave, and so incredibly and beautifully fucked up. I love you because you’re you – Brian Kinney. I don’t want anyone else. I’m here because I want to be with you for as long as I possibly can – as long as you’ll have me,” I finish with a sigh.


The silence that comes between us seems to last for hours, though I know it’s only minutes. I try to read his face, but I can’t make out his expression. My chest seems to be tightening more and more by the second, waiting for his response to what I just blurted out. I wonder if he’s going to tell me to leave or tell me he doesn’t feel that way about me anymore.


Finally, he stands up from his chair. “Come here. I want to show you something,” he says and starts walking toward the living room again. I stand up and follow him through the living room and up the stairs. We don’t speak the entire time, but my curiosity has definitely gotten the best of me. We walk down a hallway at the top of the stairs to a room at the very end. I didn’t come upstairs when I saw the house the first time, so everything here is new to me.


He opens the door and walks into the room, with me following closely behind. I look at my surroundings and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. There’s a large bed in the middle of the room adorned with sleek white sheets, pillows with black pillow cases, and a beautiful black duvet that looks almost like silk. I silently wonder what it feels like. On the other side of the room are two black dressers and a smaller black nightstand by the bed. The floor is covered in plush white carpet and the walls reveal a few select pieces of art – my art. I walk further into the room to look closely at the pieces. I recognize them all; one was from shortly after I left Pittsburgh, one a couple years later, the next a couple years after that. The last one shocks me the most, though. I stare at the sketch of a twenty-nine year of Brian sleeping naked in the bed at the loft – my first show.


I turn to see Brian still standing in the doorway, watching me. “You bought it,” I whisper, but it’s not a question.


Brian answers anyway. “I bought it,” he confirms. He clears his throat and looks uncomfortable for a moment. “And – no other guys have been here with me. Not even Kevin, so—“


I nod. “This is amazing,” I tell him. “Why don’t you and Gus live here?”


He huffs a laugh. “It’s yours,” he shrugs.


I shake my head. “It’s definitely not mine. I didn’t pay for it, or remodel it, or furnish it –“


“Are you saying you don’t want it? Because I’ll take it back,” he says with a grin.


I laugh. “No. I mean – it’s ours,” I answer tentatively.


He shrugs. “It was,” he nearly whispers.


I take a deep breath and walk up to him, our bodies mere inches apart. I reach out slowly, hesitantly touching his side. I don’t want to push him, but I need to be close to him after all of this. He surprises me by leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. It takes me about one second to respond and I close the distance so my torso is pressed against his. I rise up on my toes to deepen the kiss and wrap my hand around the back of his neck. His lips are soft and warm and feel incredible against mine. We kiss, slowly at first, just enjoying feeling each other again. I reach down, grab the front of his shirt, and pull him further into the room. He walks with me, our lips never breaking contact until the backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed.


We stop and he pulls away from the kiss. He looks at me for a few seconds and I’m scared he’s going to reject me again. I silently plead with my eyes for him to just go with it – let it happen. He takes in a slow breath. “Are you sure?” he asks.


My eyes widen and I laugh once. “Fuck yeah,” I tell him.


He gives me a small grin and shakes his head. Then he places his hand flat against my chest and pushes me down so I’m sitting on the bed. My heart is pounding so hard I can practically hear it in my ears. I feel my body shaking in anticipation. I pull him back down to resume our kissing, much more passionate this time. His tongue traces my lips lightly, silently requesting entrance – I immediately grant that request.


We kiss like that, me sitting on the edge of the bed and him leaving over it, for a few minutes before we break apart again so he can lift my shirt over my head. I reach up to do the same to him, running my hands down his once again gorgeous chest and stomach. Our eyes meet for a split second before we come together again, kissing desperately and deeply. I scoot back so I’m lying flat on the bed with him hovering over me. He lowers slightly and starts placing light, moist kisses against my neck. I moan a little, running my hands up his back and into his hair, pressing his face closer to my skin. He continues kissing down my torso, stopping to lick and tease each nipple, causing me to arch into him at the sensation. My breathing starts to become heavier as he leaves a trail of kisses down my abdomen.


He unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down over my hips and legs until they finally end up on the floor next to the bed. He’s back in a second, kissing and licking and biting gently at my hip bone. I feel my cock twitch in response. I reach down to push my underwear out of the way, impatient. He huffs a laugh and swats my hands away so he can pull them off himself – with his teeth. “Oh God,” I groan at the erotic sight. He discards the underwear near my jeans on the floor and returns to continue his earlier activities.


He kisses my inner thighs, starting just above the knees and working his way up. I feel his warm breath on my dick and suddenly, I’m panting. I lift my hips, somewhat unconsciously, but he grabs them and pushes them back down onto the bed roughly. Finally, I feel the tip of his tongue make its way from the base of my cock all the way to the tip, leaving a wet trail that is immediately cooled by the surrounding air. I moan deep in my throat. He closes his lips around the tip and runs his tongue over it in slow, methodic circles. He teases for a moment before finally taking all of me into his mouth. I gasp when I feel the back of his throat, and he swallows around my dick. My head is thrashing from side to side against the pillow now, panting desperately.


I reach down and pull him up roughly by his shoulders and pull his lips to mine again. I wrap my legs around his waist and feel my hard cock press against his through the material of his jeans. I reach between us to unbutton said jeans and slide them over his slim hips. He’s not wearing underwear, of course, and my body shivers in anticipation. I need to feel his skin against mine – now. My request is granted as he covers my naked body with his and I feel his stiff cock pressing against mine, this time with no barrier between us. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, increasing the friction, while we continue our assaults on each other’s mouths.


I flip us over so I’m on top and I trail wet kisses over his chest and ribcage. Before I get too far, though, he grabs me by the arms and flips us back over so he’s hovering over me. I know what he’s doing, but I don’t comment on it. I refuse to break the spell this time. He reaches over to the nightstand, opens the drawer, and pulls out a condom. He rips it open with his teeth and spits out the top of the wrapper like he always used to do, and I smile up at him. He looks back with a tongue-in-cheek smirk and I grab the condom away from him. I reach down and roll the lubricated condom over his cock like I’ve done so many times before. His breath catches in his throat when I reach the base of his dick and squeeze.


I reach to grab his hand and bring two of his fingers to my mouth. I suck on them as if it’s his dick, getting them wet, our eyes never breaking contact. His normally hazel eyes are now darkened with lust, as I’m sure mine are. I finally let off of his fingers with a soft ‘pop’ and he moves down in between my legs. My eyes close again as I feel the tip of his middle finger circling my hole. He gently pushes in and I moan. He fucks me with his finger for a few seconds before adding the second finger. The familiar stretch and burn causes me to gasp, and then groan suddenly as his fingers brush against my prostate. When I finally can’t take it anymore, I reach down to remove his fingers from my ass and grab his condom covered dick, trying to guide it to my entrance. I can’t wait anymore, I need him now.


He huffs a laugh and knocks my hand away again as if saying ‘cut it out, I know what I’m doing’. Don’t I know it. I lift my legs higher and he presses the tip of his dick to my hole. He hesitates for a moment, so I look up to meet his eyes. I nod in encouragement and he finally begins to push in. The pleasure coursing through my body as he begins to slowly thrust is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I desperately grab at his back, his arms, whatever I can reach, bringing him closer and closer to me. I can’t get enough of him; his body, his scent, his taste. We’re face to face, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, lips brushing up against one another’s, but not quite kissing. I lean up to bring his plump bottom lip into my mouth and suck and bite gently. He responds with a deep kiss once I release him. He’s leaning on his elbows on either side of me and his hands are in my hair, tugging because he knows I love it when he does that.


He’s brushing against my prostate every other stroke and I feel that familiar tingling at the base of my cock. “Close,” I whisper to him urgently. He quickens his pace and reaches between us to jerk me off in time with his thrusts and my fingernails dig into his back. My back arches as I feel my orgasm taking over my body and I’m pretty sure I scream out his name in ecstasy. He thrusts twice more before groaning his release, burying his face in my neck.


We’re both panting and trying to catch our breath as he pulls out, ties off the condom, throws it into a trashcan near the bed. I groan and shiver at the loss. He drops down onto his back beside me.


“Jesus,” I breathe out. “Wow.” I know, how very articulate of me. He just laughs in response. I turn my head to look at him. His hair is messed up and sticking up in all different directions, his lips are swollen and red from our kissing, he’s breathing heavily, and sweat is glistening over his chest. I turn and lean up so I’m facing him. “Let’s do it again,” I say excitedly.


He laughs again. “Forty-three, remember?” he says and then winces. “Christ, I never thought I’d make it this far.”


I scoot closer so I can lay my head on his damp chest and run my fingers lightly up and down his right side. I sigh, content. “I’m glad you did,” I tell him. I know his age has little to do with why we can’t do it again right away. His body is still weak from the disease and the treatments, but he doesn’t mention that. If he was healthy, I’m sure Brian would be fucking three or four times a night at the age of sixty with no problem. I almost chuckle at the thought. He runs his hands up and down my back and I close my eyes at the sensation.


Again, I listen to the steady beat of his heart under my head and slowly drift into a deep sleep – truly happy for the first time in over ten years.

Chapter 12 by deviant_queen
Author's Notes:

This chapter mentions a clip from the movie The Hangover.

 

 

 

 

I wake up smiling, for the first time in ages. I yawn loudly and stretch, rolling over onto my back. The ache in my ass makes me smile even wider. I look to my left to see an empty space where Brian should be. I lean up on the bed to glance around the room – nothing. I get up and pull one of the white sheets along with me, wrapping it around my body. A piece of folded paper falls to the floor. I immediately notice my name written in Brian’s scribble on the front. I bend down to pick it up, open it, and read the note inside.



‘Second door on the left.’ That’s all that’s written. I drop the note to the bed and walk out of the room into the hallway. The second door on the left is closed, so I reach down to open it. This sounds an awful lot like a surprise. Brian doesn’t do surprises or gifts. I wonder what this is about.


I swing the door open, take two step inside, and my jaw drops at what I see. A large window shines the morning light into the room at a perfect angle. I look around to see a few easels, paint brushes, pencils, charcoal, sketch paper, blank canvases – it’s a studio. A studio for me.


“Like it?” I jump at his voice. I turn to see Brian leaning up against the door frame, half in the room and half in the hallway, wearing nothing but jeans.


I laugh, incredulous. “Yeah, I like it. Brian, this is amazing,” I boast. I walk further into the room and run my finger over the wooden edge of one of the easels. My fingers itch to paint something – anything.


Brian shrugs. “Well, I made one of the rooms into an office for me, so I figured you should get a room of your own, too.”


I scoff. Leave it to Brian to brush off something this incredible. I find myself standing in front of the window, looking down over the in-ground pool in the backyard. I sigh softly. I feel Brian come up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist. I lean into his warm embrace. “This can’t all be real,” I tell him.


He laughs. “It’s real alright. This cost me a fucking fortune,” I can hear the smile in his voice. He knows I don’t only mean the house or the studio, but also us, last night. I sigh again, deeper this time. “What is it?” he asks, his breath warm against my ear.


I shake my head. “I just wish – that I could’ve been here to –,” I stammer.


He doesn’t let me finish. “Shut up,” he demands softly. “No apologies, no regrets.”


I snort and shake my head. “If you only knew,” I tell him. This could’ve been my life – our life, together. I never really knew until now what I gave up living in New York. I close my eyes and try to picture what my life would be like now if I’d never left – or if I would’ve come back sooner and not abandoned everything I ever knew for my career; most likely the same career I’d have if I’d never left. What I see is incredible – beautiful. My eyes start to tear up, but I blink hard to hold it back. I let out a shaky breath and his arms tighten around me.


“You’re here now, right?” he asks. I turn around in his arms and nod. I lean up and catch his mouth in a light kiss, then bury my face against his chest. Yeah, I’m here now.


_______________

We shower together, an act I missed more than I realized, and return to the bedroom to throw on the clothes we had on last night.


“Where’s Gus?” Brian asks while he pulls on his shirt.


I struggle to get my snug jeans over my still-damp legs. “He’s at the loft,” I tell him. “He said he’d be fine alone.” I finally get the pants over my hips and button them.


“Does he know where we are?” he asks, looking at me strangely.


It suddenly dawns on me. “Oh shit!” I exclaim, quickly pulling my shirt over my head. I rush for the door, “My phone is in the car. He’s probably freaking out.” I hear Brian laugh as I reach the stairs. Once out the door and in my car, I grab my phone from where I abandoned it in the driver’s seat and flip it open. 16 missed calls. Shit. I don’t bother listening to the seven voicemails once I see all the calls are from the loft. I call Gus and he picks up on the first ring.


“What the fuck, dude? Where the hell are you? Did you find Dad? Is he okay?” he rushes out loudly into my ear.


“Yeah, he’s okay. We’re at the house in West Virginia. Sorry I didn’t call you. I left my phone in the car,” I apologize earnestly.


He sighs loudly. “Jesus fucking Christ. You guys scared the shit out of me,” he says. I nearly laugh at how much he sounded like Debbie just then. “When are you coming home?”


I look up to see Brian walking out of the house and locking the door behind him. “We’re on our way now,” I tell him as Brian comes toward me and stops short, just in front of the car.


“Oh, ok,” I hear Gus say. “See you soon then.”


We hang up and I meet Brian’s eyes. “So was he freaking out?” he asks with a playful glimmer in his eye.


I huff a laugh. “Yeah, something like that.”


Brian nods and gestures toward the Corvette. “You going back to the loft or --?”


“Yeah. I mean – if that’s okay with you,” I tell him.


He nods again. “You can follow me, then.”


The ride home was short. I park behind Brian in front of the loft and we walk up together. I reach over and grab his hand. When he looks at me, I smile widely and he gives me his signature smirk and intertwines his fingers with mine. When we reach the last flight of stairs, we see Gus standing at the top, in the doorway of the loft, arms crossed in front of his chest, tapping his foot dramatically. He opens his mouth -- most likely to yell at me for not calling, or Brian for disappearing, or both of us for staying gone all night -- but when he sees our hands, his body language changes. His mouth snaps shut, his arms drop, and his foot stops moving.


“What happened last night?” he asks curiously as we reach the top of the stairs, his eyes jumping between Brian and myself.


I glance at Brian for the answer, but he just clears his throat and releases my hand so he can walk past Gus into the loft. “I have a doctor’s appointment at eleven. I’m going to take a shower,” he says as he walks toward the bathroom.


“You took one before we left,” I remind him as Gus and I follow him in and close the door behind us.


“Yeah, well I’m going to take another one,” he calls out as he shuts the door. Asshole.  My eyes cut to Gus, still looking at me expectantly.


“Did you guys fuck?” he asks. Just then, the phone rings. I sigh, relieved – saved by the bell. Gus walks over and picks it up on the second ring. “Hello?” he says into the receiver. “Oh, hey … You know he’s not going to take the phone if he knows it’s you, right?” he says with a sigh. There’s a pause, and then he glances at me again. “Oh – uh, yeah, he’s here. Hold on.” He hands the phone to me, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “It’s for you.”



I take the phone, half expecting it to be Michael and half not knowing who the hell it could be. “Hello?”


There’s a hesitation. “Hey. This is Kevin – you know, from the other night,” I hear the familiar voice come across the line.


“Oh. Yeah,” is all I say. What the hell?


He clears his throat. “Listen, I was wondering if we could meet up. I want to talk to you about something.”


“Uh. I guess,” I stammer. “I mean – sure, yeah, I can do that. When?”


“How’s now? I can meet you outside the loft in less than ten minutes,” he replies.


I glance toward the bathroom door. “Maybe we should meet somewhere else,” I suggest, not knowing how Brian would feel about me going somewhere to talk to his ex.


He sighs. “Yeah. Ok, well how about – I don’t know, Woody’s?” he asks.


“That’s fine,” I tell him.


“Great. I’ll see you in a few,” he says.


“Ok. Bye,” I hang up the phone without waiting for a response. I turn around to see Gus staring at me.


“What the hell was that about?” he asks.



I shrug. “I don’t know. He wants to meet me at Woody’s. He says he wants to talk to me about something,” I explain.


Gus shakes his head. “Weird,” he mumbles.


“Yeah,” I agree.


“What’s weird?” Brian’s voice sounds from the top of the stairs to the bedroom. I didn’t even hear the bathroom door open. His hair is dry and he’s wearing the same clothes. So much for the shower, dick.


“Nothing,” Gus blurts out. I glance at him questioningly and he shakes his head once, just enough so I could see it.


I look back at Brian. “Nothing,” I repeat. “I’m going to go – to my mom’s house for awhile. You know, just to visit or whatever,” I tell him. I’m not totally sure why I’m lying about this, but I decide to take Gus’ word for it. I’ll tell him about it later – after I know what’s going on. To be honest, I’m sort of relieved to get out of telling Gus about what happened between me and his dad.


Brian looks at me like he doesn’t believe me, but doesn’t comment on it. “Okay,” he answers with a shrug.


I make it to Woody’s in ten minutes. It’s still early, so the bar is nearly empty. I glance around, seeing no sign of Kevin. I take a seat at a table near the bar to wait. Less than a minute passes before I hear the door open and look up to see him walk in; dark sunglasses, worn jeans, and a leather jacket. Just Brian’s type – tall, dark, and handsome – and the complete opposite of me.


He spots me quickly and removes his glasses, approaching the table with a tight, but polite, smile. “Justin, I presume.”


I nod. “Yeah. How do you know my name?” I ask. I know I didn’t introduce myself to him the other night. I wonder if he asked Brian who I was or something.


He laughs as if the answer to my question is obvious. “I lived with Brian for almost four years. Of course, I know who Justin Taylor is. Thanks for meeting me so quickly,” he says as he sits on the stool across from me.


“No problem,” I shrug. I look at him warily. My guess is that he’s going to tell me to back off and leave Brian alone. Or maybe he’ll chastise me for hurting Brian the way I did. Either way, I’m extremely curious as to what he wanted to meet me here for.


“Want a drink?” he offers, gesturing to the bar.


I shake my head. “No thanks.”


He nods and looks down at the table. He looks a bit uncomfortable and I’m not sure why. “So – how’s Brian?” he asks.


I briefly wonder if Brian would want me telling Kevin any details about – well, about anything really. I decide on keeping things simple. “Brian is – good; he’s good,” I finally say.


“He won’t talk to me,” he says, looking so unbelievably sad that I almost feel bad for him. I shake it off. Kevin is no concern of mine; Brian is.



“Yeah, I noticed,” I reply.


“I asked you here because I need a favor,” he tells me, his eyes meeting mine.


I sigh. “If you’re going to tell me to stay away from Brian, don’t waste your breath,” I say. “I’m sorry about what happened between the two of you, but it has nothing to do with me. I’m not going anywhere.”


He smiles slightly. “That’s where you’re wrong. It has a lot to do with you,” he tells me. I narrow my eyes at him. So now it’s my fault that he flaked out on Brian and fucked up their relationship? What a crock of shit. Before I can call him on his bullshit, he starts again. “But you’re right, it’s not your problem. And that’s not what I was going to ask you.”


“What then?” I ask, becoming impatient.


He looks at me closely for a moment before continuing. “As I said, he won’t talk to me. He won’t answer my calls or my emails. You saw what happened when I showed up at the loft. He’s completely pushed me away. I can’t blame him, after what I did. But – I just – I don’t know,” he shakes his head. His facial expression is troubled.


I know what it’s like to be pushed away by Brian, and I definitely know what it’s like to deserve to be pushed away. While I can easily empathize with the handsome man sitting across from me, I can’t help but feel some animosity towards him as well. I have no right to be angry with him, of course. In all honesty, the reason Brian didn’t let him come back probably did have something to do with me. I’m not sure exactly what that might have been at the time, but I’m definitely standing in the way now.


“Ask me,” I tell him gently.


His eyes are glassy and he suddenly looks really tired. “Do you think you could, you know, keep me updated? Let me know how he’s doing once in awhile. Just so – just so I know, I guess,” he pauses. “You don’t have to give me your phone number, and I promise not to call and bother you all the time. Maybe if you could take my number, and – I don’t know, call whenever you want to,” he suggests.


He wants me to call him and let him know how Brian is doing? “What for?” I ask. “From what Brian tells me, you wanted to get away from him; and that what he’s going through scares you and you don’t think you can handle it,” I point out.



He shakes his head. “It scares me, even more, to be away from him. That’s what I can’t handle,” he says, his voice breaking at the end. “I’m going crazy. I understand if he doesn’t want to be with me, but he won’t even talk to me.”


“Maybe it’s because he’s – I don’t know, protecting himself from getting hurt again, or – I don’t know,” I try. I can’t come up with any reasons that would make him feel any better. I know he’s hurting and miserable, that’d be obvious to anyone right now, but what could I possibly say?


He huffs a laugh. “No, that’s not the reason. I know what the reason is,” he tells me.


“What is it?” I ask him and hold my breath, waiting for the answer.


“He finally got what he wanted – or more accurately, who he wanted,” he sighs, resigned.


“I’m sorry,” I tell him.


He shrugs. “Don’t be. I envy you. Besides, you can’t make someone love you, right?” he asks.


The question is rhetorical, I know, but I answer anyway. “No, I guess you can’t,” I say simply. I quickly make a decision. “I can call you. You know, to let you know what’s going on -- if he’s okay.”


“Thank you,” he breathes, looking genuinely grateful. We sit there looking at each other for a few moments before he speaks again. “One more thing,” he says.


Here it comes. “What’s that?” I ask.


He breaks eye contact with me and looks toward the back of the room at nothing in particular. “Just – be good to him,” he says, his voice quiet. “Take care of him. He needs you, you know. Even if he won’t admit it, he does, and don’t let him tell you otherwise.”


My mouth is suddenly dry. I don’t respond to his request right away, and I’m not sure if he’s even expecting a response. This guy obviously cares for Brian – loves him, even. I’m sure they’ve been through a lot together in the past four years. And who knows? If I hadn’t been here, they would’ve probably been back together by now. I’m the one standing between them, and yet instead of being angry and telling me to back the fuck off or that I’d already had my chance, he’s asking me to take care of his ex-lover who he still wants so badly to be with. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for him to sit across from me and ask that.


And maybe it’d be better if they were together. Not better for me, of course, but better for Brian. With Kevin, they’d never have to worry about a condom breaking or the possibility of infecting someone. They know what each other is going through and if anyone can relate to Brian, it would be someone in a similar situation. It scared Kevin that Brian was sick – maybe because he was afraid of being sick, too, one day, or maybe because he was just scared of losing Brian – but now he wants to be there for him, to take care of him. I wonder how Brian really feels about him. Could there still be something there, something that I’m fucking up by being here?


I can’t talk to Brian about it. He told me he didn’t have feelings like that for Kevin, but who knows if that’s actually the truth or not? Brian isn’t a liar, but he’s also not the most open person about how he feels; not until last night, anyway. Last night. I sigh; there’s no way I’m backing down now. I just can’t. Brian said he wanted me here, so that’s where I’ll be. Jesus – I can’t even think straight right now.


His voice interrupts my thoughts. “He told me about you, you know,” he says, still looking anywhere but my face. “He made you sound so – perfect. You could do no wrong in his eyes,” he sighs. “I knew that if you ever came back if you ever asked him to take you back, he wouldn’t think twice about it – regardless of me.”


“He cared about you,” I assure him. “He still does. How could he not? You were together for four years; you even lived together. There’s no way he doesn’t still care for you.” It’s the truth. Even if Brian doesn’t feel for him the way he feels for Brian, there had to be something there. And if there was, it’s probably still there.


He shakes his head. “Not like he cares for you. You were the only person he ever really let himself love – and the only person he’ll ever let himself love. I know that now,” he tells me. He shifts in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable again. He lets out a shaky breath. “I have to go,” he says abruptly and stands up from his seat. “Thanks again for meeting with me.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. “Here’s my number. Call me anytime. Thank you for doing this, Justin –“ he trails off as he turns and rushes out of Woody’s before I can say another word.


“No problem,” I say to absolutely no one. I glance down at the card: Kevin Ward, Landscape Architect. I stare at it for a moment before placing it into my back pocket. I leave Woody’s, but I don’t head straight back to the loft. I drive around for a couple of hours, or maybe a few hours, just thinking about what just happened.


When I finally make it back to the loft, it’s already dark outside. I walk in quietly, only to see Gus and Brian lounging on the sofa watching a movie – laughing hysterically.


“It’s not illegal, it’s frowned upon – like masturbating on an airplane.”


“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, too.”



“Yeah, maybe after 9/11 when everyone got so sensitive. Thanks a lot, Bin Laden.”


Another round of laughter starts and I smile at the image of Brian and his son bonding.


“This is the best movie ever,” Gus says as he grabs a handful of popcorn from a bowl in his lap and shoves it into his mouth.


I closed the door behind me, finally making my presence known. They both turn to look at me. “Hey,” I greet them.


“Hey,” Gus replies. “Come watch this with us. It’s fucking hilarious.” Brian slaps Gus’ chest with the back of his hand – another warning about the language.


I walk toward them and Brian scoots closer to Gus on the sofa so I can sit next to him. I take a seat and glance at the screen. “What is this?” I ask.


“The Hangover. It’s amazing,” Gus tells me. I laugh at his enthusiastic response. He returns his attention back to the screen and I glance at Brian. He raises an eyebrow at me and leans back against the cushions. He rests his arm on the back of the sofa, so I take the opportunity to press against his side as I settle into my seat.


Gus was right. The movie was pretty fucking hilarious. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen Brian laugh that much, and it was like music to my ears. I still have a lot going through my head right now, but I put it off for tonight. As I lay in his arms, ready to go to sleep, I think about what Kevin said earlier. ‘The only one he’ll ever let himself, love’. I eventually drift to sleep, thanking God – or whoever – for just that.

Chapter 13 by deviant_queen




I pace in the hospital waiting room, alternating glances between the clock and the hallway. Christ, I feel like I’ve been waiting for days. The doctor finally comes into view, clad in surgical scrubs with beads of sweat on his forehead.


“Are you here for Mr. Kinney?” he asks me as he approaches.


“Yes,” I reply, waiting desperately for him to tell me what the fuck is going on.


He shakes his head slowly. “I’m sorry, son. We did all we could –“


I feel like the breath has been knocked out of me and I’ve lost all control of my body as I collapse to the ground. This can’t be happening. He was fine a few days ago. They’re lying. He’s going to be okay. He’s not – he can’t be –. NO!


“NO!”  I jolt awake and find myself sitting straight up in bed, sweating and gasping for breath. My whole body is shaking as I try to steady my breathing.


I feel his hand hesitantly touch my bare back before I hear his voice. “You okay?” he whispers from beside me. I look over to see him leaning up toward me, concern crossing his features.


I try to speak, but I can’t seem to, so I just nod. I drop back to the bed and cover my face with my arm. I take a deep breath in through my nose and let it out through my mouth, willing my heart rate to return to normal.


“Nightmare?” he asks. I nod again. “Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head and remove my arm from my face so I can see him. I reach out to grab his hand and pull him toward me. I wrap my arms around him and he buries his face into my neck. I hold him a little tighter than necessary, but he doesn’t say anything.


Tears sting my eyes and I use all the strength in my body not to completely breakdown. “I don’t want to go back to sleep,” I choke out.


I feel him nod against my neck. “Okay,” he whispers back.


I loosen my grip on him and push his shoulder so he’s on his back. I climb between his legs and cover his body with mine, the side of my face pressed firmly against his chest. His arms find their way around my shoulders as I grip his sides as if holding onto him for dear life – and that’s exactly what I feel like.


He runs his hand lightly down my back and then back up. “You’re shaking,” he tells me. I don’t answer. “Talk to me.”


I’m unable to stop the tears now. I feel like an idiot for crying over a fucking dream, but I can’t seem to bring myself back to reality. It felt so real. A sob escapes my body and he grips me tighter.


“Justin,” he says, his voice still rough from sleep. “You’re scaring the shit out of me.”


“I’m sorry,” I breathe. I shut my eyes tight and bury my face into his warm, smooth skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeat over and over again. I’m not even totally sure what I’m apologizing for – everything, I guess – but I just can’t stop saying it.


He takes my face into his hands so I’m looking at him. He shakes his head and wipes my damp cheeks with his thumbs. “Was it about prom?” he asks.


I shake my head and choke out a laugh. “I wish,” I tell him. I lean my face into his touch and take a deep breath. I feel myself starting to calm down as his hand wraps around the back of my neck, rubbing away the tension there. I can’t help but remember all those years ago after I got bashed, when I’d wake up with nightmares and Brian would stay up with me, like he is now, and talk to me or rub my shoulders until I calmed down. Those tender moments no one knows about – moments that had me falling more and more in love with him each time.


It’s dark in the loft, but I can make out his face enough to see worry still written on his features. Without thinking, I lean up and catch his mouth in a heated kiss. He stalls, surprised, for a moment, but eventually returns the kiss, his hand never leaving the back of my neck.


I press my face as close to his as I can manage as we make out on his bed like a couple of teenagers. He lets me take control and parts his lips so I can deepen the kiss. My tongue brushes against his and he tastes like Crest toothpaste, cigarettes, and that unique Brian taste I could never quite place. The kiss is rough, wet, and hot – and exactly what I need right now. I press my newly hardened cock against his groin and he breaks the kiss suddenly, gently pushing my face away from his.


He looks confused, but his eyes are dark and blazing with lust. “We can’t,” he tells me.


“Why not?” I pant, trying to resume the kiss, but he won’t let me.


“Gus,” he whispers back.


Shit. I forgot Gus was here, but alas, he’s only a room away and Brian’s bedroom is far from soundproof. I sigh, but nod in reply. “Right. Right, yeah, okay,” I mutter and roll off of him.


He looks at me for a moment, silent, before grasping my waist and pulling me toward him again. “Come here,” he says. He gives me another quick kiss before I settle easily into his arms. I relax into his embrace with my cheek against his chest and his mouth against my hair, and we sleep, our bodies never losing contact.

_____________________


I make my way up to the loft, grocery bags in hand. I hesitate when I see that the door is cracked open. As I approach the doorway, I hear voices coming from inside.


“I can’t believe you’re doing this to yourself again,” I recognize Michael’s voice automatically. I have the fleeting thought that I should walk away and not listen to their conversation, but before I can, I hear Brian’s voice.


“What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice indifferent.


“You know damn well. I’m talking about Justin,” Michael replies. The mention of my name sparks my decision to stick around and listen for awhile.


“What about him?” Brian asks. “And what exactly am I doing to myself?”


I hear a sigh, most likely from Michael. “You went through hell after he left, Brian. And now he flies back into town and you’re suddenly back together after nine fucking years?” he rants.


“Ten,” Brian corrects him.


“All the more reason!” Michael shouts.


There’s a short hesitation from Brian. “I thought you two kissed and made up a long time ago,” he muses.


“This isn’t about me liking Justin or not liking Justin. Hell, I don’t even know the guy anymore. It’s about you being – a glutton for punishment or some shit,” Michael replies.


Brian huffs a laugh. “It’s not a big deal,” he says.


“Of course it’s a big deal. I mean – how do you know he’s not going to just leave again?” Michael says.


Silence fills the loft and I press my ear closer to the door. “I don’t,” he responds quietly.


“See? Do you really want to go through all that again?” Michael asks, sounding more concerned now.


“No. Of course, I don’t,” he responds. I shake my head. No, Brian. Don’t. “But – is it so bad that I’m enjoying it while he is here? Is it better to be alone?”


Michael sighs and I hear footsteps inside the loft. “You don’t have to be alone. What about Kevin?”


“You know what about Kevin,” Brian replies.


“You said he wants to come back. Maybe –“ Michael starts.


Brian cuts him off. “I don’t want him to come back. I don’t feel the same way about him as he feels about me – or thinks he feels about me.”


“But you feel that way for Justin,” Michael says, and it’s not a question.


After a few moments, Brian starts talking. “He might leave again – and hell, he probably should. But you know, he might stay. So as long as he wants to be here, I’m going to let him be here. And if he leaves – then so be it. Either way, this is my decision,” he sounds so fucking sad that it makes me want to cry. Either that or run in, grab him, and tell him how wrong he is. I’m not going anywhere.


“Christ,” Michael breathes. “Well, what about him? Do you really want him to be here when –“


He’s interrupted when Brian clears his throat, his voice becoming hard. “He’s free to leave, Michael. I’m not forcing him to be here. I told him to leave, and he wouldn’t.”


“Of course not. He’s not going to leave on his own now,” Michael concludes.


“Mikey –“ Brian starts again, his voice softer now.


“Okay, okay. It’s none of my business, anyway. And you’re right, it is your decision,” he sighs. “I’m one to talk, anyway – he’s not the only one that left.”


“Don’t –“ Brian starts.


“Shut up,” Michael interrupts him. “Just let me say that I’m sorry with no remarks. I’ve been really shitty to you. You were always there for me, especially when Ben has gotten sick, and I shouldn’t have run away like that.”


“Don’t feel obligated,” Brian warns.


“That’s not it. I love you, you asshole,” Michael replies with a laugh.


“Me, too,” Brian’s voice is so quiet that I can barely hear him. I take the silence that follows as my cue to walk in. I slide the door open and step inside. I see Brian sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen with Michael in front of him, hand placed on the back of his neck. They both turn to look at me.


I stand in the doorway, feeling slightly uncomfortable for a moment. “Hey,” I greet.


“Hey, Justin! It’s been a long time,” Michael smiles and makes his way toward me. He takes me into a hug and I raise my free hand up to hug back.


“Yeah, it has,” I say. I look at Brian, but he’s not looking at me.


Michael pulls away. He looks from me to Brian, then back to me. “Well, I should be going. Ben’s waiting for me,” he says.


I glance back at Michael. “Tell him I said hello – Hunter, too,” I tell him.


He nods. “I will.” He looks back at Brian and they share a look I can’t decipher. He looks at me, again, with a smile. “Bye,” he says and makes his way past me and out the door.


I watch him close the door behind him before I walk into the kitchen. Brian still doesn’t look at me or say anything as he pours a shot of Beam. “Brian –“ I start. I don’t even know what I plan on saying, but he doesn’t give me the chance to figure it out.


He downs the shot. “I’m going to bed,” he mutters and walks around the bar opposite me toward the bedroom.


“Okay,” I say, and place the grocery bags on the counter in the kitchen. “Can I come?” I ask tentatively, cautious of his current mood. He shrugs and continues into the bedroom. I leave the groceries abandoned in the kitchen and follow him, shutting off the lights as I go. He removes his shirt and jeans and crawls into the bed in only his black boxer briefs. I strip my clothes off, too, and get on my side of the bed. He’s facing away from me.


“Brian?” I whisper.


“Hmmm.”


“I need to tell you something,” I reply. I take a deep breath before continuing. “I didn’t go to Mom’s yesterday,” I tell him. He doesn’t respond. “I met up with Kevin at Woody’s,” I finally tell him. I feel there should be no secrets between us now. I don’t want to hide anything from him – I’ve learned from experience that that doesn’t work.


For a moment, I think he’s not going to say anything. “What for?” he finally asks.


“He called here and asked for me,” I explain. “He said he wanted to talk to me about something.”


“What did he say?”


I shake my head. If I tell him about Kevin’s request, he’ll probably be pissed. And I already told Kevin I’d do it, so I decide against disclosing that information. It isn’t necessary information right now. Instead, I ask him a question of my own. “Why won’t you answer his calls, or – talk to him?” I ask.


Finally, he turns so he’s onto his back and looks at me. “That’s it?” he asks, incredulous. “He’s going through you to find out –“


I shake my head. “No,” I interrupt him.  “This is my question, not his.”


He sighs. “What are you getting at, Justin?” he asks. I can tell by his voice that he’s becoming frustrated with me.


“Just – do you ever think that maybe it’d be better to be with him?” I ask. Brian’s stare remains blank. “I mean, he knows what you’re going through, he can –“ I stall. I don’t know how to continue. I just need to know how he feels about Kevin – and about me. We haven’t spoken about us since the night at the house, and I’m desperate to know what’s going on in his head.


He turns away again. “No one’s keeping you here,” he says, his voice cold and distant. “You’re the one that said you wanted to be here. If you’ve changed your mind, you can go whenever you want. You don’t have to push my ex on me to soften the blow –“


My eyes widen. “No!” I practically yell. “That’s not what I’m doing.” How could he think –


“Then what? Tell me what this is really about if that’s not it,” he says. I feel him slipping away from me emotionally, reverting back to that cold, indifferent façade I once knew so well, so I decide to stop before he closes down completely.


“Nothing,” I finally say. “It’s not about anything.”


He twists his body so he’s looking at me. “No, I don’t think it’d be better to be with Kevin,” he says. “I’m a grown man, and I know who I do and do not want. I’m also fully capable of making my own decisions.”


“Okay,” I respond in a whisper.


Again, he turns away from me. Silence fills the room for a moment before he speaks again. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going in the first place? Why’d you lie about it?” he asks.


I think about the answer to his question. “You know, you haven’t exactly been completely honest with me, either. You still haven’t told me how you became positive,” I tell him pointedly.


“Yes, I did,” he says.


I scoff. “A needle – that’s all you’ve told me.”


“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out,” he mumbles. “And anyway, you’re the one that said you didn’t care about what happened while you were gone – that it didn’t matter. I don’t know shit about your life in New York for the past ten years, so why does it even matter to you how this happened to me?”


I quickly realize that he’s right. I haven’t told him anything about me, and yet I expect him to tell me all of this about him. After all, he did spill his guts to me the other night. Perhaps it’s time I return the favor. I sigh heavily before I begin. “Do you want to know? Fine,” I say, sitting up in bed. “I’ve spent the last ten years working on my art. I spent most of my days painting and sketching at my apartment in Chelsea. I have a few shows a month and I do some freelance work. At night, I stayed home a lot. When I wanted to go out, I did. I have a few friends that I go out with – none are that close, though. I’ve had two boyfriends since you – Brendan and Travis. The longest relationship was a year, and that ended over three years ago. I don’t speak to either of them anymore. Anything else you’d like to know?” I finish. He says nothing.  “Now it’s your turn.”


“I was injecting heroin,” he says before I’m even given the chance to prepare myself. He turns toward me. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” he asks.


“Why would you – use heroin?” I ask him. I have to admit that was what immediately crossed my mind when he told me he was infected from using a used needle, but I guess I never thought it could actually be true. Sure, Brian was never a stranger to recreational drugs. Doing bumps on the dance floor at Babylon, buying tablets of E from guys in the back room, and of course the countless amount of weed he’s smoked, but – heroin?


“It doesn’t matter,” he answers. “I was at a party and I used a needle that had already been used by someone else, only to find out later that the person that used it was positive.”


“How did you find out?” I ask him, swallowing hard.


“A few weeks later, I ended up in the hospital,” he starts. I look at him questioningly; he notices. “Overdose,” he says and I think I may have just audibly gasped. “They ran routine blood work and diagnosed me with HIV. About a month later, I saw the asshole that left his needle on the table filling an antiviral prescription at the pharmacy. I put two and two together.” He pauses for a moment, contemplating. “I guess there’s no way to be sure it was that needle that infected me, but that’s the only thing that made sense. I got sloppy and stupid, and I’ll be paying for it until the day I die. I detoxed at a drug rehab center, as strongly suggested by the hospital, and that was it.”


“Thank you for telling me,” I whisper after a while.


“Tell me, did that make anything better?” he asks.


I shrug. “No, I guess not,” I say. “I’m sorry.”


“Forget it,” he mutters and turns his head to look up at the ceiling.


I lay back down beside him. I study his face, but he doesn’t look back at me. “I thought about you all the time,” I tell him. He looks over at me but says nothing. “Everytime I went to a club or a bar, played pool, had sex, saw an advertisement, saw – a guy in a suit,” I laugh at how ridiculous I must sound. “What I’m trying to say is that you were everywhere. I’d pick up a sketchpad and draw you without even realizing it. All of my paintings have you in them – whether it be a figure, or a theme, or just a color. I couldn’t escape it – I don’t even know if I wanted to escape it. Ten years and I still dreamt about you almost every night. How fucking pathetic is that?” I ask with another laugh.


He shakes his head a little. “It’s not,” he says in almost a whisper. I wait for him to continue. “It actually sounds pretty damn familiar. Do you have any idea how hard it was to not think about you? I gave up on trying a long time ago.”


Without a second thought, I closed the distance between us with a deep kiss to his lips. I whimper with need as he rolls us over so he’s on top. I briefly wonder where Gus is tonight, but I quickly decide it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is this – us. His skin, warm and smooth, pressed against mine. His hands, strong and yet gentle, gripping my hips. His breath, warm against my face.

 


We lay here afterward; our arms and legs tangled together, his sweat-drenched chest and swollen lips pressed to mine. “Love you,” I murmur against his mouth. He lets out a soft sigh in response and hugs my body tighter to his. I smile then, knowing I got the exact answer that I wanted.

 

Chapter 14 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

I wake up to the sound of an alarm clock for the first time in a long time. I groan and pull the duvet over my head, attempting to drown out the sound. I hear Brian’s amused chuckle as he leans over me to shut the alarm off. I sigh my thanks when the annoying buzzing ceases and remove the duvet from my head to see Brian standing beside the bed pulling on a pair of black Armani pants.



“Where are you going?” I ask, still groggy from waking up way too fucking early.



“Work,” he answers simply.



I lift my head from the pillow. “Really?” I ask.



“Yep.”



“Are you sure you’re ready to do that?” I ask him.



“Of course I am,” he says as he shrugs on a crisp white button-up shirt. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not sick anymore, so there’s no reason for me to be sitting on my ass at home all day while Theodore runs my business.”



“Not – sick anymore?”



“Yeah,” he answers and walks into the bathroom. “Didn’t I tell you?” he calls out. “The doctor called yesterday. They can’t find any cancer cells in my body – the KS is gone.”



I jump out of bed and hurry into the bathroom, where Brian is standing in front of the sink, toothbrush halfway to his mouth. I interrupt him by throwing my arms around his body from behind. “Holy shit, Brian, that’s amazing!” I nearly yell. I smile widely when his eyes meet mine in the mirror in front of us. “What else did he say?”


“My t-cell count is up to 400 and seems to be slowly rising,” Brian tells me with a smirk.



I grip him tighter. “Oh my God. This is – it’s – oh my God,” I stammer, too excited to speak clearly.



“Ever articulate, aren’t we, Sunshine?” he laughs. He turns around so I can give him a proper hug, toothbrush officially forgotten on the sink. I squeeze him tighter than necessary and suggest we celebrate his good news in the shower. He quickly agrees.



After Brian leaves for work, I’m left alone in the loft with nothing but my thoughts. Brian is better – he’s really better, and I can’t fucking believe it. I feel like running up and down the streets of Pittsburgh telling everyone I see the news. As I bask in my happiness, I can’t help but think back on last night. Unfortunately, no news – no matter how amazingly unbelievable and great it is – could keep those thoughts from my overactive mind.



Heroin. I still can’t imagine Brian ever doing something like that. What could’ve possibly been going on in his head, in his life, for him to go that far? I wonder – I sigh and pick up Brian’s house phone, making my way through a few numbers on the caller ID before finding the one I’m looking for. I press ‘send’ and listen to two rings before someone picks up.



“Hello?” he says into the phone.



“Hey, it’s Justin,” I reply.



“Oh, hey,” he hesitates, obviously confused as to why I’m calling him.



I clear my throat. “I was wondering if we could meet somewhere,” I tell him. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”



He pauses for a moment before answering. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he says. “You want to just come over here – to the store?”



“Yeah, that’d be fine,” I answer, relieved. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”



“Ok. Bye,” he responds.



“Bye.”



I grab my keys and head for my car, making sure to set the alarm before I leave. As I approach the building, I take a deep breath before finally opening the door.



I see him sitting behind the counter as soon as I walk in. “Hey,” I greet him.



He looks up from his computer screen. “Hi. Come in, have a seat,” he tells me, motioning to a stool on the other side of the counter. The store is empty right now, probably due to the time of day.



“Thanks.” I walk over to the offered stool and take a seat. We just look at each other for a few seconds.



“So – you wanted to talk to me,” he says, eyebrows raised.



“Yeah,” I answer. “It’s about Brian.”



He nods. “I figured that much,” he tells me. “Go ahead – talk.”



“Okay,” I say. I sigh before I begin. “Last night, he told me how he got infected,” I begin.



“Yeah –“ he drawls, silently asking me to continue. I know Michael knows what happened to Brian. He has to. Brian says their problems didn’t start until he got diagnosed with AIDS. Before that, I’m positive Michael knew a hell of a lot more than Brian has told me. I’m just hoping he’ll tell me what I need to know.



“He told me about it like he was telling me about something that happened to someone else. Like it didn’t even matter,” I tell him.



Michael shrugs a little. “Well – I mean, he’s been positive for over five years,” he tells me like I don’t know. “He’s not going to cry about it now.”



“I would,” I tell him. I honestly can’t imagine something like that happening to me. I don’t know if I’d be strong enough to go on with my life as if nothing was wrong. Sure, medicine has come a long way and being positive is far from a death sentence anymore, but it’s still scary as hell.



“Yeah, me too,” he sighs, his eyes sad. I know he’s thinking about Ben and Hunter as well as Brian. Michael has been through a lot with this fucking disease, and he doesn’t even have it. I can’t help but sympathize with him a bit. I’m still angry that he could just leave Brian alone like that – he’d just lost his lover and found out he might die sometime soon, the thought alone saddens me more than I can say – but a part of me can only imagine how hard this all must’ve been for him.



I take a deep breath and continue. “All I got were the basic facts,” I tell him. “I don’t want to ask him for more than that. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, he shouldn’t have to. But still, I need some answers.”



“Like what?” he asks me.



“Like – how the hell could this have happened?” I ask, shaking my head. “Heroin? It’s fucking crazy. I never thought Brian would –“ I trail off.



“I know,” he says quietly. “That’s what I thought, too.”



“So, was it a one- time thing or –,” I start, but before I can continue I see him shaking his head. “No?” I ask incredulously. What the hell does that mean?



“I don’t know if I should be telling you this,” he says, standing up from his stool. “Brian obviously doesn’t want you knowing all the details, right?”



I lean over the counter toward him. “Michael, please,” I pleaded desperately. “I need to know.”



“Why?” he asks. “Why does it matter now? It happened – you can’t go back and fix it.”



“I know that,” I tell him, leaning back into my chair with a heavy sigh. “I know.”



He looks at me for a moment, as if contemplating something. Finally, he sits back down. “Brian was – in a bad place after you left,” he starts, his voice low. “It started off fine while you were still talking to each other. When you stopped answering his calls –“ he trails off.



“Tell me,” I insist. I don’t want him to try to spare my feelings so I don’t feel guilty. It’s way too late for that shit.



“I don’t know,” he says. “At first, he didn’t seem any different. He was his usual self – brushing it off like it was no big deal. Fucking a different guy every night – you know, typical Brian,” he pauses. “But then something changed. He stopped going out with the guys, Ted said he started showing up late to work, if he even showed up at all. We hardly ever saw him, and when we did he acted like a complete asshole – and he looked like shit; like he’d been up for days,” he continues. He’s not looking at me now, but beyond me with this sad faraway look in his eyes, as if remembering something painful. “We figured it was just pain management, so we didn’t say anything. We thought it would pass eventually, but it didn’t. It just got worse, and it lasted a long time. He was hanging out with this drug dealer asshole,” he says with a sneer.



“How did you know he was a drug dealer?” I ask curiously.



Michael shrugs. “Ted knew him,” he says and I automatically know what that means. It was a hell of a long time ago, but I remember what Ted’s drug of choice was for awhile.



“So – he was doing crystal?” I ask.



“Later I found out he was doing a little bit of everything,” he tells me. “He wouldn’t talk to me about anything, and I didn’t know what to do. He was fucking killing himself. But before I could do anything about it – it had already happened,” he finishes, his voice breaking at the end.



“So he came to you and told you?”



“Yeah -- I was the one that drove him to rehab,” he admits and I nod, urging him to continue. “When he got out, he was kind of – out of it for awhile. Eventually, things went back to normal, though. As normal as it could be after finding out you’re positive,” he says, shaking his head. “He’d accepted it, I guess. And then –“ he starts hesitantly, looking back at me.



“What?” I ask.



“Well, Kevin came along,” he says and I nod again. I knew that was coming. “After that, things got even more normal. He showed up at work every day – they even started coming out with us again. It was pretty good until he got diagnosed with AIDS,” he sounds like he’s having trouble talking about it now. He sighs. “I can’t tell you anything about after that. I haven’t seen him much since then.”



“Yeah, I know,” I reply. “What happened?”



“I freaked out, I guess,” he confesses, standing up to straighten out the already perfectly organized comics behind him. “I couldn’t stand seeing him so sick. All I could think about was losing him – and I kept thinking about the possibility of Ben or Hunter – I don’t know,” his voice breaks off. “It was just hard, but it’s no excuse. I’ve been really shitty.” He turns back around to face me. “So now I’m going to try to fix it,” he says, his voice determined. “I just hope he’ll forgive me.”



“I know what you mean,” I sigh again, leaning against the counter in front of me.


__________________


I head back to the loft after I leave Michael’s store. I spend the rest of the day trying to keep busy. I go downstairs and did some laundry, clean up Gus’ stuff that’s scattered across the living room, and take another shower before finally sitting down for awhile.



Brian should be home any time now, and I contemplate telling him about my visit with Michael. I decide it isn’t necessary information, and it wouldn’t be right for me to out Michael like that. I sort of begged him to tell me when he didn’t want to, and I don’t want Brian to be pissed at him for this – they have bigger problems to work out right now.



I surprise myself discovering that I’m glad Kevin was there for Brian after he was diagnosed. Yeah, he skipped out at the worst possible time, like Michael, but I’m thankful that he was able to help Brian come to terms with his HIV status and live a semi-normal life. He took the place I should have been in and wasn’t.



It’s still hard to believe how bad Brian got after I left, and I sure as hell don’t want Brian knowing that I know all of that. We all know what happens when I know too much – Brian freaks out. The guilt is overwhelming, but I know I need to let it go. All that’s important is that Brian and I are together again. That’s all that matters right now.



He finally walks through the door, briefcase in hand. He looks a little tired but smiles when he sees me sitting in the kitchen. I smile back.



“How was your day, dear?” I ask teasingly.



He chuckles and looks toward the stove before sighing dramatically. “Why the fuck isn’t dinner done?” he says in mock anger.



“I’ll give you something to eat,” I shoot back suggestively, without missing a beat.



“Mmmm,” he hums and leans in to kiss me full on the mouth. He pulls back and places his briefcase on the counter before leaning against it on his forearms. “So, I’ve been thinking,” he tells me.



“Always a dangerous sign,” I say with a grin.



“Smart ass,” he mumbles, gently nudging my side.



I laugh. “Ok, tell me what you’ve been thinking about.”



“I talked to Gus,” he starts. “I’m thinking about moving to the house.”



“The house? In West Virginia?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowed together.



“No, the house is Palm Springs, Sunshine,” he says with a scoff.



I reach over to pinch his side. “Now who’s the smart ass?” I ask with a laugh.



He shrugs and walks to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. “Gus hasn’t had a bedroom since he moved here, and this is kind of a one person place, so it makes sense,” he rationalizes.



“Yeah. Absolutely,” I agree with a nod. “So, when is this move taking place?”



“I was thinking this weekend,” he tells me. “We’ll only need to move our clothes and shit, since the house already has furniture, and appliances, and even dishes.”



“Right.”



He puts the bottle down on the counter and looks at me. “So, what do you think?” he asks.



“I think it’s great,” I answer honestly. “I’m sure Gus will love all the extra space – and the pool, of course.”



“What about you?” he asks suddenly, a weird look on his face.



“What about me?” I ask, seriously confused. What do I have to do with Gus and Brian moving?



He raises an eyebrow. “I want you to come with us,” he tells me.



My eyes widen. “Huh?” I ask – again, so articulate.




He huffs a laugh. “Are you going to make me say it again?” he asks.



“You want me to –“



He nods. “Move in with me – with us. You’re here all the time anyway, and keeping that hotel room is fucking stupid. There’s probably nothing there, anyway. All your clothes are on the fucking bathroom floor,” he pauses and I laugh. “So do you want to –“



I give him the best Sunshine smile I can manage. “Yeah, I definitely want to,” I tell him. “Let’s do it.” I get up, walk around the counter, and grab him in a hug. Brian wants me to move in with him – what an unbelievable way to end the day.



“I look at it this way,” he mumbles into my hair. “We can fuck without worrying about Gus hearing us now.”

 



I laugh and pull back to capture his lips in a long kiss. When we pull back, we’re both smiling. “A definite improvement, I agree.”


Chapter 15 by deviant_queen

 

 

 

 

After the third dramatic sigh, I stop packing the endless stack of James Dean DVDs into boxes and turn to acknowledge Brian. “What?” I demand.



He leans up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I don’t know why we couldn’t just get movers to do it,” he comments with a shrug. “That’s what they’re paid for.”



“I concur,” Gus pipes up from the dining room table where he’s half-heartedly wrapping the glass plates I insisted on keeping in newspaper and placing them in a box.



“Because,” I begin. “It’s not that much stuff. We can do it ourselves.”



Gus grabs another plate from his stack, stares at it for a moment, and then lays it back down with a sigh. He stands up and makes his way toward me. “I thought all you WASPY country club folk didn’t do shit for yourselves,” he says.



I huff a laugh and turn back to the DVDs. “Well, you thought wrong,” I tell him and point back toward the dishes he abandoned. “Go on, help me.”



Before he can say anything, the loft door opens and I turn again to see Ashley walk into the loft. Gus raises his eyebrows. “Actually, I have to go make room for the boxes in the back of Ashley’s truck,” he tells me.



Ashley shakes her head. “No need. There’s nothing in the back – “



Gus quickly cuts her off by grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the door. “Come on,” he demands abruptly.



“That little shit,” Brian mumbles from his spot in the kitchen and moves toward the living room. He grabs my arm as he approaches me and pulls me off of my post on the sofa. He pulls my body to his and buries his face in my neck. “What do you say we take a break?” he whispers suggestively.



“A break from what? You haven’t done anything,” I tell him and gently push him away with a laugh. He sighs loudly.



“Maybe I should go help clean out Ashley’s truck,” he drawls sarcastically as I jog up the steps to the bedroom, grabbing another box on the way.



I shake my head and laugh quietly, leaning down beside the bedside dresser and opening the drawers one by one, emptying their contents into the cardboard box beside me.  “I love that Gus’ girlfriend drives a truck. I mean how butch is tha–“ I completely stop in my tracks when I open the bottom drawer of the dresser and look inside. It’s empty except for one thing.



One little black box.



“What?” Brian asks from where he’s still standing in the living room, oblivious to what is causing my sudden silence. I can’t believe it. I reach into the drawer and grab the box. I stand up slowly, rubbing my fingers over the soft velvet before opening it to peer inside. There sits exactly what I expected to see – two platinum wedding bands.



I hear him approach me from behind and I turn around to face him. “You kept these?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper.



He glances down at the box in my hands, his eyes lingering there for a moment before meeting mine again. He shrugs. “They have inscriptions. The store won’t exactly take them back,” he tries to explain.



I shake my head and give him a small knowing grin. Leave it to Brian to try to brush something like this off as if it means nothing. “You’re so full of shit,” I tell him.



He laughs once through his nose, a whisper of a smirk gracing his features. “Yeah, I am,” he admits.



I look back down at the rings and gently touch the smooth metal with the tips of my fingers. If I had any doubts about Brian’s feelings for me before, they’re gone now. He actually kept the rings – in my drawer, for ten fucking years. I wonder for a moment if Kevin ever saw these and asked about them. I can’t imagine how Brian would explain something like this.



I close the box as I walk closer to where Brian is standing in the middle of the bedroom. He’s looking at me now, curiosity evident on his face. I know he’s wondering how I’m going to react to this, so I quickly answer his question by leaning up and pressing my lips to his in a soft, slow kiss. I wrap my arms around his waist and his strong hands pull my body closer to his as our kiss deepens. I sigh into his mouth as our tongues slide together in my mouth and he groans softly.



We break apart slightly when we hear Gus’ voice coming from the entrance to the loft. “Well if I wasn’t straight before, I sure as hell am now,” he says, shaking his head. “Jesus, don’t you two ever get enough?”



I nudge Brian’s nose with mine, our arms still around each other, but not as tightly as before. “Never enough,” I murmur. He leans in and presses his lips to mine one more time before tentatively pulling away.



We both look toward the door to see Gus, looking slightly amused, standing next to his now wide-eyed girlfriend. “Is the truck ready now, Ashley?” Brian asks.



“Wow –,” she blurts out, but quickly recovers with a shake of her head. “I mean, uh, yeah, it’s ready,” she tries again.



“Hello!” Gus yells, clearly aggravated. “Come on Ash,” he mumbles, begrudgingly grabbing a box and heading back out the door, Ashley in tow.



“Your dad is so hot,” I hear her whisper before they make it to the stairs.



Gus’ annoyed growl fills the whole loft, as does my laughter.



_________________



The move from the loft to the house goes by smoothly. Brian, Gus, and I spend the better part of the day unpacking clothes and stocking the refrigerator and cabinets. By the time evening rolls around, Gus has already decided what should go in every single room in the house, insisting it would be stupid to have an empty space that could easily be used as a game room, complete with a pool table and video games. Brian shoots down his offer, but I think Gus and I both know that said pool table will be in said room by the end of the week.



While Brian is downstairs in the kitchen, no doubt stalling as long as possible in the hopes that I’ll have unpacked us both by the time he makes his way back to our bedroom, I busy myself hanging Brian’s suits in the closet – God forbid one of his Armani suits develop a wrinkle.



“Justin?” I turn to see Gus standing in the doorway of the bedroom.



“Hey, Gus,” I say with a smile. “What’s up?”



He hesitates before stepping into the room. “Can we talk for a minute?” he asks.



“Sure,” I reply, sitting down on the bed. He remains standing and shifts his weight from one leg to another, looking strangely uncomfortable.



“Listen,” he finally begins. “I know we started off a little rough, to say the least.” He pauses.



“Yeah—“ I say, urging him to continue.



He clears his throat. “But I’m happy to say you’ve definitely proven yourself,” he tells me.



My eyebrows furrow together. “What do you mean exactly?” I ask.



He sighs. “I mean – I mean that I’ve never seen Dad this happy. Ever,” he tells me. “And I know you’re the one to thank for that.”



I shake my head. “Gus—“ I start, but he cuts me off before I can continue.



“No, let me finish,” he demands. “There’s no way to be sure, but I think that if you hadn’t come back, Dad wouldn’t be as healthy as he is now. I think you gave him –,” he stalls. “I don’t know, a reason to fight.”



I smile at him. “You’re to thank for that too, Gus,” I remind him. “Brian is crazy about you.” It’s true. In fact, Brian once told me Gus was the only reason he had to try treatment for the KS. Gus is a great kid, and he and Brian obviously love each other. This kid means everything to him – when he once thought he would mean nothing to him.



He nods. “I know. You weren’t here before, though,” he reminds me. “He was – bad, really bad. And now it’s like he’s back to normal.” I nod. “So –,” he pauses again. “Damn, this sucks,” he sighs.



“What?” I ask curiously, wondering what he’s getting at.



He shrugs. “I’m not used to doing this,” he tells me.



“Doing what?”



His eyes scan the room and finally settle on the pile of empty boxes in the corner of the room. “Saying – thank you,” he admits. “Thank you for helping me get my dad back. Because if it wasn’t for you, I don’t think he’d still be here,” he finishes with a small shrug.



“You’re welcome,” I tell him with a grin. “And thank you, too,” I add.



His eyes meet mine again. “What the hell for?” he asks.



“For keeping him alive until I got here,” I tell him.



He gives me that trademark Kinney smirk. “Anytime,” he assures me. He sticks his hand out toward me to shake my hand. I huff a laugh, thinking about that day outside the loft door when he dismissed my attempt at a handshake. I reach out and grasp his hand firmly in mine, shaking it once. His grin becomes a little wider.



“Am I interrupting something?” Brian’s voice coming from the doorway causes Gus to finally pull his hand away from mine. We both turn towards Brian.



“Nope,” Gus responds quickly.



I shake my head. “No,” I confirm.



Gus clears his throat again. “Well I need to finish unpacking,” he says, heading toward the door. He stops short in front of Brian and leans in, wrapping his arms around Brian’s shoulders. Brian’s hands come up to Gus’ back, returning the hug. “I love you, Dad,” I hear Gus whisper before he pulls away and leaves the room.



Brian looks at me. “What was that about?” he asks, closing the bedroom door before making his way toward me.



I shake my head and smile at him. “Nothing,” I tell him again. When he stops, standing in front of me, I reach down to grab his hands and intertwine our fingers together. I lean up on my toes to kiss him. He returns the gesture. After a few moments, his grips my fingers tighter and suddenly stops the kiss. He pulls away slowly, lifting my left hand between us. He stares at the band on my finger for a few seconds before looking back at me.



“I thought you said we didn’t need rings,” he comments, running his thumb over the ring on my hand.



“We don’t,” I tell him. “But – maybe we want them?” I say tentatively, the comment sounding more like a question than a statement.



He nods slowly. “Maybe,” he says quietly. He closes the gap between our bodies, his hand now resting on the small of my back. He swoops down and catches my lips in a searing kiss. I reach up and grab the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me. I breathe in his scent and I feel my head spin a little.



I reach between us to unbutton his shirt and push the material off of his shoulders. I run my hands down the soft skin on his sides and he sighs into my mouth, pushing me back on the bed. He reaches down to pull my t-shirt over my head and then nudges my shoulder so I will scoot up to the top of the bed. He crawls toward me, leaving a trail of wet kisses along my torso before finally finding my lips again.



We roll around on the bed together, kissing, for a good ten minutes before our pants even come off. I slide Brian’s jeans over his slim hips and lift mine so he can do the same to me. Once we’re both naked, we rut on the bed together for a few moments before I reach over to the bedside table to retrieve a condom. I rip it open with my teeth and move to slide it over Brian’s dick, but his hand on mine stops me. I look up at his face questioningly. He grabs the condom out of my hand and slowly rolls it over my painfully hard cock before I even know what’s happening. I glance down and back up to his face, searching.



“Are you sure?” I ask him breathlessly. He just nods and leans back in to kiss me. I roll us over so I’m on top and he begins to move onto his stomach, but I place a hand on his hip and shake my head. “I want to see you,” I tell him. He says nothing but settles onto his back.



As I press into him, my dick slowly disappearing into the hot velvety opening, I moan loudly and I hear Brian groan in response. Once I’m all the way inside him, I stall for a moment. I need to get my breathing under control or I’m going to come before we even get started. I feel him push against me and I begin to thrust slowly. I lean up on my forearms so I can catch his mouth in a wet kiss. His grunts and my moans fill the room as I begin to pump harder.



After a few minutes, I reach down to stroke him in time with my thrusts. I feel his asshole contract around me and he groans his release, cum spurting out of his dick onto his abdomen and chest. I push in two more times before I come so hard I nearly black out from the pleasure. I collapse on top of him after pulling my softening cock out of his ass and tossing the condom into the trash can. Our chests heave together, slick with sweat and cum.



“Love you,” he murmurs into my hair.



I smile into his shoulder and press a kiss to the skin there. “I love you,” I respond.



“I love you, too!” Gus says loudly from his bedroom, which is apparently only one door down from ours.  I lift my head up, mouth agape in embarrassment. Shit, Gus fucking heard us – or, more accurately, heard us fucking. “And I’m switching to a different room tomorrow!” he adds.



Brian laughs as I bury my face into his chest, my cheeks burning hot. “Good night, Gus,” Brian calls out.



“Night,” comes Gus’ reply.



Brian chuckles a little at my obvious embarrassment and wraps his arms around my back. I press the side of my face into his bare chest and sigh contently. I listen to the sound of his breath evening out and his heart rate returning to normal before he eventually falls asleep. When I finally drift into a slumber of my own, there’s still a smile on my face.

End Notes:

Consider this THE END :)

The epilogue is OPTIONAL.

Epilogue by deviant_queen
Author's Notes:

This is an OPTIONAL epilogue. It isn't critical to the story, so consider it an "extended ending" of sorts if you wish to read it. W

 

ARNING: Major Character Death

 

 

 

Brian died on a Sunday, exactly two years, four months, and six days after I arrived in Pittsburgh. The doctors would say it was expected, but I don’t agree. I mean, how can you ever really expect something like that? He’d been in the hospital for a week with some sort of infection before it happened. He was hooked up to an IV and had to be given continuous oxygen. I remembered that that’s exactly how he said he never wanted me to see him. The irony didn’t escape me.



The night before it happened, I watched him cry – really cry – for the first time ever. He kept himself together pretty well until Gus left the room, but once we were alone, the quiet tears didn’t stop for nearly an hour. I think maybe he knew it was over even before we did. I climbed into the cramped hospital bed with him that night and held his body to mine until he started to speak. He asked me to watch after Gus for him. He told me that his son may be all grown up and engaged to the love of his life, but no eighteen-year-old boy should go through losing a father. When he told me to tell Gus he was sorry that he wouldn’t be at the wedding, I stopped him. I insisted he quit assuming he was going to die – I told him he was going to be okay. Looking back on it now, I wish I would’ve let him finish.



When the incessant beeping of one of the machines started to sound, indicating he was gone, I clung to his chest and sobbed, hanging on for dear life. The nurses had to physically pry me off of his body before I’d leave the room. I walked into the small waiting room just down the hall to tell Gus. I didn’t have to, though, because he knew as soon as he saw me. He first shook his head in shock and sheer denial. When I only nodded in response, his body wracked with sobs and he fell to the floor, covered his face with his hands, and cried violently. I lowered myself to the floor to take him in my arms. I held him while he cried for a good hour before we called and told anybody what had happened.



We buried him on a Tuesday at an outdoor ceremony – because Brian would’ve hated for it to be in a church. The casket was closed and, for that, I was grateful. Brian didn’t want to be remembered as a cold, pale corpse lying in a casket with everyone crying over him. In fact, he would’ve hated it either way.



I stood near the head of the casket and looked around at the people attending Brian’s funeral. Gus sat with his head on Ashley’s shoulder, tears streaking his face. Lindsay fought to keep herself together as a teary eyed Mel stood behind her, lovingly rubbing her shoulders. Ben held Michael while he sobbed quietly. Ted and Emmett stood by looking shocked as if they didn’t quite believe this was actually happening. Kevin sat near the back, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. My mom and sister sat next to me; Molly held Mom’s hand as silent tears fell down my mother’s face. Even Joan and Claire came. His sister cried way too loudly while his mother stood like a statue, cold and unresponsive. Michael called her with the news; he said she deserved to know that he was gone, considering she was his mother. I say she didn’t deserve a damn thing, but I didn’t tell Michael that.



Behind Brian’s family and friends stood a large crowd; there had to be at least fifty of them. I still don’t know how the word got out, especially considering it obviously wasn’t Deb who told them. I recognized a few people – Todd, Mysterious Marilyn, two bartenders from Woody’s, and a few guys I even recalled Brian and me fucking years ago. The other faces were unfamiliar, but they all stood, heads slightly bowed, through the entire service. Some of them even cried when the casket was lowered into the ground. They left an endless plethora of flowers at the site and a few stopped to tell me how sorry they were for my loss.



Michael said a few words before the ceremony was over. He told everyone how Brian used to tell him that he never would’ve have made it as far as he did without him and Debbie. He told us that, while that may or may not be true, Brian saved him as well. He told us how much the family was going to miss him and assured us that his mother and uncle were waiting for Brian long before he got there.



Lindsay spoke next. She told us how Brian was a major part of her life not only because he was the father of her son, but because he was the one that helped her accept herself for who she was and to come out to those close to her. Brian’s mother’s mouth became a thin, strained line when Lindsay said that, and I almost smiled in satisfaction that she was uncomfortable.



Gus also stood up to tell everyone how amazing his dad was and how much he’d miss him. He told us that Brian’s biggest fear was turning into his own father, but that he definitely was the furthest thing from the piece of shit (his words, not mine) that raised him. I wondered who told Gus about Joan and Jack, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that, at that point, Brian’s mother and sister stood and left without another word. My eyes met Michael’s and he gave me a small smile and nodded once. I guess he, too, knew she didn’t deserve to be there. Near the end of his speech, Gus became more choked up and couldn’t finish. Ashley wrapped her arm around him and led him away from the group for a few minutes so he could calm down.



They asked if I wanted to say anything, but I told them no. I’d already told Brian everything I wanted to say, and that’s what was important. That night, I lay in the middle of the bed running my fingers over the smooth band donning my finger. The pain I was feeling was intense – my throat burning, my chest aching, my stomach in knots – and all I could do was lie there and let the tears fall freely from my eyes, hoping against hope that I’d wake up from this nightmare and he’d be beside me the next morning.



Exactly one year after his death, I still wear that ring on my finger. I figure that if Brian is still wearing his, I can too. I know one day it’ll have to come off. Brian would kick my ass if he knew I hadn’t moved on and found some twinkie to love me – but he can just deal with it. I’m not ready yet. I will be one day – but not right now. Right now I’m kneeling in front of his headstone, running my fingers over the letters forming his name. I blink back the tears and smile as I tell him about Gus’ wedding, Emmett’s new boyfriend, and the fact that his name still floats around Liberty Avenue from time to time, even now.

 


When I’m done catching him up on recent events, I lie down in the grass beside his gravesite and take a deep breath. Sometimes, in moments like this, I can almost feel him with me. I’d give anything to hear his voice or to touch him one more time, but I still find comfort in these little moments with him. Several minutes later, I finally stand up, promising him I’ll be back soon, and make my way to my car. And tonight, as I lie in our bed in this big empty house, just before I fall asleep, I swear I can almost hear his heartbeat against my ear. I drift off then and sleep better than I have in a year.

End Notes:

I want to thank all of you who read this story. I really appreciated every single comment you left and I really appreciated the support. Thank you to those who read this story even if they were unsure if you could handle it. You guys are the best! This is the first series I’ve written since 2005, and I’m really proud that I finished it. Thanks for coming along for the ride!

This story archived at http://www.kinnetikdreams.com/viewstory.php?sid=1075