He has the same blank, empty look in his eyes that he’s had since Michael first arrived at the hospital. Two months on he’s not covered in Justin’s blood but that haunted look is still there - impressive during a blowjob.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

There’s a tick and the blank stare makes way for a hint of emotion. Brian’s left eyebrow rising slightly and a slow smile spreads in condescension.

“Macrame? Have you really forgotten what a blowjob looks like already in your happy homo heaven?” He flinches subtly before flicking the trick on his left behind the ear. “Cover you fucking teeth, have you forgot how a blowjob works?”

“Fuck you Brian.” Michael bristles and takes aim, it’s a low blow but it doesn’t seem like anyone else is saying what needs to be said to him. “Like you’ve forgot about Justin? Ma says all he keeps asking is where you are.”

Brian’s eyes go steely and hard, a dark storm brewing and Michael half expects a crack of thunder to roll through the backroom. He pushes the two tricks off his dick before tucking himself away and stalking towards Michael, shoving him against a less than sanitary wall.

“Let me guess; ‘where’s Brian?’ Is Brian okay? Is Brian coming?’” He mocks in a shrill and high pitched imitation of Deb. “Your mother doesn’t know shit.”

“Oh yeah, when was the last time you even saw him? Before he woke up from the coma? Before I left?”

Brian closed his eyes, let his breath leave his lungs in a mirthless chuckle and looked back at Michael for seconds that felt like tension filled hours. He shook his head as if clearing the thoughts from his mind like an old etch-a-sketch and shoved himself back from Michael.

“I saw him five hours ago.”

“Shut up Brian, Ma says it’s all Justin goes on about, it’s all he keeps asking.”

He whips his head to the side, away from Michael, pressing his tongue into his cheek. Michael watches his eyes go unfocused for a moment, fixed somewhere in the distance. Seconds tick by to the soundtrack of orgasmic bliss around them until Michael loses patience.

“Well?”

Brian turns back to Michael, pulls his lips between his teeth and nods to himself.

“Justin has brain damage Mikey.” He says as if he’s speaking to a particularly slow houseplant. “He took a baseball bat to the skull and now even when I’m in the room he’ll ask where Brian is. He will ask me if Brian is okay. He’ll even sullenly ask if Brian is coming when Brian is sitting right in front of him because Sunshine has fucking brain damage.”

The usual panting moans and grunts of pleasure from the backroom occupants fall eerily silent but Brian pays it no mind when he rolls his eyes and grabs the front of Michael’s shirt, pulling him along to the emergency exit and out into the alley behind Babylon.

“You want me to go see Justin? Brian asks as he continues to lead him away from the club shirt first. “Let’s go see little Sunshine.”


_________________________________________


Allegheny General felt much different to when he was last here. Corridors were empty and quiet, just the faint squeak of shoes every so often. It was still and peaceful under the harsh fluorescent lights as they made their way through the hallways. The last time it had been frenetic the entire time, doctors and nurses bustling in and out of the ICU at all hours, equipment being hauled around passed the waiting rooms, alarms going off, loved ones crying and doctors being paged over the tannoy for the full three days he spent sitting at Brian’s side before the doctor informed them that Justin was breathing on his own again.

Brian seemed to know exactly where he was going and Michael followed blithely along behind like some kind of physical metaphor for their friendship. A nurse even smiled and waved at him, unperturbed by Brian stalking the hallways after midnight in his club gear - maybe there was some kind of doctor fetsh night he’d never heard of here?

“Aren’t you early tonight?” A nurse outfitted in bright pink scrubs addressed Brian with raised eyebrows before she noted something down on a chart and returned it to its holder beside the door of a patient room.

“Back on nights?” Brian replied, ignoring her question. He moved to look through the large window on the patient room door and tilted his head.

“The joys.” She sighed.

She didn’t acknowledge Michael where he hung back as she settled beside Brian looking into the room. He approached too, staying behind them but moving to look over her shoulder at what they were watching.

And there he was.

The brat that had shoved his way into their lives, King of Babylon himself trashing uncoordinatedly in his sleep with stilted half words and groans on a hospital bed.

It was dark in there but the light trickling in from the hallway made it possible to see a small teddy bear at his bedside but it didn’t look like there was anything personal in there. Just a cheap gift shop bear holding a plastic balloon with ‘get well soon’ printed across.

A far cry from Michael’s own old bedroom which was plastered in Justin’s drawings and posters within a week of him moving in.

Brian’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose looking frustrated with what he was seeing in the room. The nurse looked over at him, a small smile on her face like she was holding back a grin. She punched him lightly on the arm with the side of her fist and nodded towards Justin.

“All on his own tonight.”

It made no sense to Michael but he could see in the reflection on the window pane that Brian mirrored her with his own smile. Speaking just under his breath he gave a proud sounding ‘way to go Sonnyboy’.

“Not sure if Caroline mentioned to you earlier but Miguel had him up and down the corridor twice.”

“Yeah a new record, I heard.”

“Might be why he wasn’t so difficult tonight.”

It still didn’t make a whole lot of sense to him, they continued between themselves speaking in riddles as far as Michael was concerned.

Debbie had kept him updated when he called - she told him when Justin woke up after three weeks in a coma, let him know that he’d started talking again - which did come as a bit of a surprise since she’d never mentioned that he wasn’t talking. As far as he knew Justin had been walking around for weeks and he wasn’t quite sure why he was still in the hospital. Listening to Brian discuss Justin casually with this nurse it seemed he’d only been getting pieces of the puzzle. Brian was trying to show him the full picture.

His ears pricked up when he heard the word ‘discharge’ though and hoped it wasn’t the kind Emmett went on about when he’d had that cyst last year.

“He’s getting home?” Michael asked and the other two turned to him like they’d almost forgotten he was there. Brian looked like he was kind of confused by the question but the nurse seemed...pitying?

“He’ll be discharged from neuro here at the hospital and moved over to another facility.”

“Like longtime care?” He asked. It was where Vic had been for a while in New York before he’d gone to Italy, before new meds kicked in and finally started helping. They’d all expected him to either not make it back from the trip or to go right into hospice - not back to Pittsburgh. Judging by how it seemed like Justin was so much worse than he’d been lead to believe from afar maybe that’s where he needed to go.

He received the same pitying look from her and an annoyed one from Brian.

‘A rehabilitation facility,” she answered kindly. “They will help him more intensively, get him ready for going home. We’ve been getting him as healthy as we can so he can move on to this next step in his recovery.”

Brian turned back to watch Justin when he let out a louder noise in his sleep. Michael, feeling like he’d been dismissed, looked away from the window and to the papers taped to the door of Justin’s room. He didn’t understand most of them - instructions of some kind he guessed but there was one hand drawn sign saying ‘no flowers’ and an inexpertly drawn vase of wilted flowers. It was the only one he got.

Back just after Justin had started at the diner Kiki had brought in a huge bunch of flowers for Donny the fry cook’s ten year anniversary at the diner. When Justin had come in for his evening shift bussing tables he’d lasted twenty minutes with the bouquet sitting pretty on the counter before being told to just go home. He was covered in snot, his eyes weeping and he would not stop sneezing. It made complete and perfect sense that after all the effort put into keeping him alive no one wanted the kid to be tortured by a daisy.

The nurse took off down the hall when another patient called for her attention further down the ward while Brian kept watching Justin sleep for a while longer.

When they left all was quiet between them, they navigated the muted hallways in silence until they reached the outside world. Brian had parked on the street avoiding the parking garage - understandable as far as Michael was concerned - which meant it was a bit more of a trek but the summer air made for a pleasant early hour stroll.

“I don’t think Ma’s been telling me everything that’s going on around here, I didn’t get half of what you and that nurse were talking about.”

Brian, for a brief second looked like he wanted to ignore him.

“What do you want to know Mikey?” He asked with a sigh.

“What the fuck is going on with Justin? The way Ma goes on I thought he was basically fine - he’s talking, he up and about, he’ll be getting out of hospital soon. And when I ask about you - since you’ve not returned one of my calls or emails - all she says is she hardly sees you, that no one really sees you.”

“Your mother sees what she wants to see and hears what she wants to hear.”

“So what’s going on?”

“I told you. He has brain damage.”

“That doesn’t exactly clear things up Brian.”

“He has a traumatic brain injury, with the added complications of him being allergic to fucking everything. The three day ventilator drama you were here for, because he was allergic to the anaesthesia when they had to remove part of his skull to relieve the pressure from his brain swelling.”

“Jesus.” Michael breathed out.

“You were there for that.” Brian snapped at him.

“I didn’t know that was what was going on, fuck Brian - no one ever said that.”

“His left side seems unaffected but he has basically no fine motor skills on the right and his gross motor function is screwed up with this thing called ataxia which fucks his balance all to hell.”

“I have no idea what any of that means other than ataxia sounding like a villain of Captain Astro.”

Instead of explaining Brian just shrugged out ‘you’re not going to get a good handjob out of him anytime soon’ before continuing.

“His short term memory is,” he paused, contemplating the right words to use. “It’s just gone. So he’ll keep saying the same things over and over because he forgets he said it and he doesn’t remember who he’s talking to like his brain has a reset button that gets pushed every so often. When he first started waking up from the coma he had this post traumatic amnesia, he was confused and agitated and nothing made sense. Everyone, all the doctors and nurses and therapists would spend hours asking him endless questions like his name or what city he was in or the year to try and get his brain to click back into reality. His mom got really upset when they asked who she was and he screamed ‘pizza’. Then there’s the moodswings which are pretty bad.”

“Well there’s nothing new there,” Michael laughed. “He’s always been a moody little shit.”

“This isn’t, it isn’t,” he seemed to struggle for the right words again. “He doesn’t get sad or anxious or frustrated or any of these petty little emotions. Everything for him is dialled up to eleven now. Instead of feeling sad he’ll just cry hysterically but it’s uncontrollable, he doesn’t know why so he gets frustrated only for him frustrated is blind, seething rage. Right now everything is frustrating, he can barely do anything for himself so rage is his default setting.

“He spent two days puking his guts out from a bad drug interaction and kept trying to hurl the bowls of puke at people. He gave his mom a black eye yesterday,” Brian paused, stood still with a look of confusion like he was figuring out how time worked. “Two days ago I guess now.”

They reached the Jeep and climbed in but sat quietly, neither making a move to buckle up. Michael looked over at Brian, he had his eyes closed and head tilted back. He looked drained.

“Do they think he’ll get better?”

His eyes opened and he turned his head towards Michael but he didn’t answer right away, he just stared for a while then he sat up and scrubbed his hands across his face.

“Six months.” He left the words hanging between them for a moment. “On average after a traumatic brain injury like his the first six months are where you improve and regain the most function with physical therapy, occupational therapy and whatever the fuck else - he’s got like twenty fucking people all in charge of different shit.

“He has had minimal physical rehabilitation because he was in a coma for almost a month and it has taken since he woke up for them to find the right drug combinations for all the shit he now needs medication for that doesn’t almost kill him. Again.

“So he’s lost two of those six months already but he’s being discharged now he’s ‘medically stable’ and he can actually start doing more than just trying not to die. He’ll start to improve, he’ll get better than he is right now but he just won’t be the same as he was before.”

Michael looked at Brian and stopped just short of asking him if he thought he’d ever be the same as he was before. He’d spent two hours in his company and got more out of Brian than in the entire time he’d known him.

“How’s Gus?” He asked, testing the waters to see if this new more open Brian extended outside of Justin.

“Good.”

Just Justin then.

Brian reached for the ignition and started the Jeep.

“Where the fuck am I taking you? You are not staying at my place.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I left my bags with Ma at the diner.”

“Bags? Plural? Did you and the Doc have a widdle fight?”

And here it was, the thing he’d least wanted to talk about, the reason it was so easy for him to march over to Brian with indignation and berate him for being a shit to poor defenseless Justin because it was a hell of a lot easier than facing the fact he barely lasted two months in Portland.

“We broke up.”

“Of course you did. Now when are you going back.”

“I’m not, it’s over. We’re over. I hated it there. David was working all the time building up his new practice. When he wasn’t he was with Hank, who I started to hate. I couldn’t find a job, I didn’t know anyone and anytime I told David I was having a hard time he just said I would get used to it. When I had enough I called him thoughtless and uncaring and told him I didn’t want to get used to it so he said I should leave and go home. Just go home Michael.” He imitated morosely.

“Fuck him.”


_________________________________________


The ubiquitous bell above the door announced their arrival at the diner. It was mostly empty, they were catching the rare slow period between the pre-bar and the after-club crowds. Debbie stood behind the counter refilling the condiment bottles while David Bowie played softly on the radio. It was for sure the most mellow atmosphere Brian and Michael had known for the usually raucous diner.

They made their way over to her and sat themselves down at the counter before she took any notice of the announced new arrivals. The calm was broken with an enthusiastic ‘hey baby’, accompanied with a pinching squeezing quasi-hug that ended with a large smacking kiss.

Brian ignored it all, inspecting a sugar packet like it was a new feature to the diner and not the same thing that’d always been there.

“Two long lost strangers in one night, how lucky we are.” Deb snarked.

Brian could feel her side-eye aimed at him but he continued to inspect the sugar packet. Five whole letters printed in bold S-U-G-A-R. Fascinating. Ingredients: Sugar. Amazing. An instant classic, it was so riveting he might just have to re-read it immediately.

“Get tired of the clubs? No new holes to plunder?”

“We went to see Justin.” Michael said, regaining her attention and diverting her tirade.

“You better not have woken him up,” she poked a long red nail into his chest, he was going to have to regrow his callouses there because it actually hurt. “Sunshine needs all the rest he can get.”

She re-aimed her finger and pushed at Brian’s forehead, tearing him away from another reading of the literary masterpiece he’d been engrossed in.

“And you, once a night isn’t good enough anymore?”

“I thought you said Brian didn’t ever see him?” Michael asked, confused.

“I said all he keeps asking about is Brian.” She replied like he was being extremely obtuse then her face changed and he could swear that Brian learned that sympathetic ‘isn’t Mikey dumb’ look from her. “He has brain damage Michael, he doesn’t know better. It’s sad.”

She punctuated that by smacking him around the back of the head.

“Well you made it sound like he was always asking about him because he was never there.” Michael sulked.

“Of course he’s fucking there, what kind of an asshole do you think he is?”

Brian gave him a mocking grin and Michael was absolutely not going to rise to him or his mother, not this time.

“Anyway, how’s he doing?” She turned her attention to Brian and Michael assumed he had been dismissed. “Jen said they're gonna move him soon, have you seen the shiner he gave her?”

“Next week hopefully,” he shrugged. “She should’ve known better, it’s her own fault.”

Michael felt out of the loop again, they seemed to know these ‘obvious’ things about Justin now that he had no clue about.

“Well Vic can’t wait until he’s out of the hospital, he’s dying to see him.”

Michael at least understood that, no doubt he hadn’t seen Justin since he left for prom. He hadn’t been there when they were waiting to see if Justin would breathe by himself, it was too risky with his compromised immune system that he’d catch something.

“Nancy was on tonight.”

“Oh I like her.”

“Said he managed to sleep without sedation.”

“Fuck me, I’ve not slept unmedicated since 1978.”

“Miguel managed two laps of the hallway with him.”

“Two?”

It was the most excited Michael had seen her, even topping his arrival at the diner hours ago, before he went in search of Brian. Two laps of those hospital corridors? It didn’t sound like the massive accomplishment they were making it out to be but his mom was so excited and Brian seemed so proud telling her. He had no idea what had been going on.

“You,” She poked again at his chest - those callouses would be building up quick. “Are coming with me to visit Sunshine in the morning, no arguing.”

He wouldn’t argue, there was no point.

“Now get your bags, you can stay in Justin’s room.”

Even now it was Justin’s room, it had stopped being his own long before he realised he’d lost it.

“Try not to scare your Uncle Vic when you go in.”

“Yes Ma.”

He walked over to the little staff room they had off the kitchen and grabbed his bags, on his way back he could hear his mom talking at Brian telling him to get some fucking sleep, that he looked like shit and no wonder Justin didn’t recognise him. The usual snark he would expect him to give in return didn’t come instead when he walked back towards them Brian just nodded and made his way over to the exit.

He has no idea what kind of fucked up parallel universe he has stepped into but this is not the Pittsburgh he knew when he left.

“Two years probation, two fucking years of fucking probation.” Debbie was still cursing, hours after they’d left the courthouse. Some of the regular faces around Liberty Ave that were in Woodies would stop by, give a few consoling words to the group and off she’d go again.

“I know sis, I know.” Vic patted her hand, half to calm half to wipe off some of the beer spilled from her exuberance.

“It’s nothing, absolutely fucking nothing. That fucking judge, ‘unduly provoked’? I don’t give a shit if Brian was rimming Sunshine on the dancefloor it doesn’t give that asshole a reason to attack him with a fucking bat!”

None of them argued.

Michael looked over to the bar where Brian was avoiding them, he hadn’t said anything since the sentencing. Even as they gathered together outside after, he just walked by them and left. He’d shown up at Woodies a while after they had and made a place for himself at the bar.

“You okay?” Michael asked when he approached him.

“Peachy.”

“Come off it Brian,” He snapped at him. “You can’t play the unaffected asshole on this. You care about Justin, you care that the guy who bashed his head in basically just got off scott-free. Stop acting like you’re above it.”

“Did you really think there was going to be another outcome? He’s a white 18 year-old with no record from a ‘good family’. We’re lucky he didn’t just get a fine.”

“A fine? What? $200 and you get to attack someone with a baseball bat?”

“$2500.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Because I was involved with a guy who got attacked with a baseball bat and he has brain damage so is pretty shit at giving an impact statement so it fell to me as the only competent witness.” Brian shrugged and took a long swig of his beer while Michael stared at him. “The prosecution lawyers needed something to give to the judge to sway him towards a harsher sentence. They knew not to expect much, the most he’d have got is a year in prison but even then he would probably only need to serve 3 months.”

“Shit, that is fucked up.”

“The great American justice system.”




_________________________________________





The rehab unit was scary. Michael had visited Justin a couple of times at the hospital before he moved over to the unit and since it was a private ward he only saw Justin but at the unit there were so many other people dealing with the same things as Justin or worse.

The unit was located on the University Medical Centre campus and specialised in brain injury recovery. As it turned out ‘brain injury’ was a very broad term and the issues the other residents had were just as broad.

There was a guy in his forties who seemed perfectly healthy, when Michael first saw him he thought he was maybe one of the therapists. He was well built, good looking and he moved without any issue but he’d fallen off a ladder, banged his head and now his entire vocabulary had been reduced to one word. There was a kid a few years older than Justin who had been in a car accident with his sister, she had died and he suffered a serious head injury which meant he laughed hysterically at everything - quite inappropriate at a funeral apparently.

One Saturday morning a few weeks after Justin had been at the unit he had run into the girls at the diner catching breakfast before they went to visit so he decided to tag along. Michael really didn’t like visiting Justin on his own, it was awkward as hell.

Justin had just been this seventeen year-old kid that barged into their lives and would have full on adult conversations with Ted that totally went over his own head, or he and Emmett would have stupid frivilous fun. Even Mel and Lindz took to him and isn’t it an unwritten rule somewhere that lesbians hate everyone? Of course then there’s Brian who never looked at the same guy twice but here he was dating a teenager. He was suddenly and inexplicably family. It didn’t make any kind of sense and it seemed Michael was the only one that saw that and it’s not like Michael dislikes him but he’s really not sure he ever actually liked him.

Besides, Justin wasn’t that seventeen year-old kid anymore. He wasn’t even the same kid that took off in his tux to go to prom. Now he was quiet, he didn’t really speak much whenever Michael was around (the near constant Brian inquiries had tapered off since Michael had come back), he usually huddled to himself like he was trying to take up the least amount of space possible and he would flinch any time anyone said his name too loudly. The kid that would shove you over in a booth and practically sit on your lap to make room for himself was long gone, Justin really didn’t like anyone touching him now.

There weren’t really visiting hours at the unit, friends and family were encouraged to visit whenever and to participate in the therapies since they were the ones that were going to be around after.

They had been sitting around a table in the day room, Justin and Gus in some kind of sick irony both playing with blocks during the conversation. Gus banging them against the table or waving them around while Justin tried jerkily to pick them up with his bad hand and stack them.

“If Gus decides to get bar mitzvahed will he have to get circumcised?” Justin asked and it sounds like a really out of the blue thing to ask but in the context of the conversation did actually make total sense.

The guy visiting with his own family at the next table over who looked like he could be anywhere from 50 to 12 million years old was someone he had seen around a lot. He was a loud and opinionated asshole that had karmically had a stroke and been left completely paralysed down his left side (and possibly from the neck up as well). He heaved himself forward in his monster of an electric wheelchair to a woman who was presumably his wife and conspirationaly spoke to her as loud as if he’d been using a megaphone.

“Fucking jews. Y’know the worst thing Hitler did was only kill 7 million of them.”

The place went deathly silent. Mel looked as though she was mentally debating the morality of beating a guy in a wheelchair to death. The wife didn’t dare look around, she just stared wide eyed at him and hissed 'Jim!'. Justin looked like he wanted to burst out laughing which was absolutely the happiest Michael had seen him in months but then hysterical laughter from Chuckles broke out, Mr. Vocabulary started yelling and the whole place turned into pandemonium.

And that right there was what made this place so scary. Take a tumble off a ladder at the Big Q, step off the sidewalk at the wrong moment or get bashed by some homophobe and he could wind up a half paralysed nazi sympathiser laughing uncontrollably and screaming ‘vagina’.

But he still braved it out for his Uncle Vic.

It had become their little ritual whenever he had a day off midweek. He’d meet Brian at the diner for breakfast, drive him to work and take the Jeep to pick up Vic.

The first time they did this it was his first time visiting although Vic was on his third or fourth. He’d been confused when Vic insisted on bringing his pill caddy with him.
“Are you going to play swapsies?” He’d joked and Vic chuckled.

It had become clear when they sat with Justin and a therapist of some kind, Vic emptied his caddy onto the table and the therapist tipped out a bunch of pills from a plastic cup in front of Justin.

“Ready?” Vic asked, settling in his chair. Justin nodded and Vic picked out a pill, showing it to him and dropping it back in the caddy. “Dronabinol, twice a day before main meals for loss of appetite.”

Justin cradled his bad arm with his left, supporting it as he aimed to pick up one from his own pile. His hand was curled and claw-like, he tried multiple times to grab one and to Michael it was like watching someone try and try to get a stuffed animal from a claw machine. Finally he managed it, he’d grabbed a similar looking pill and shakily moved it over to the plastic cup.

“Snap.”

“Come on.” The therapist encouraged when that was all Justin said.

“Right, yeah, um,” Justin’s brow furrowed and he looked at the pill in the cup and to Vic. “Drononol, two times, food.”

“Dronabinol.” The therapist corrected and Justin nodded with his eyes on his lap.

“Close enough, next,” Vic grabbed another pill and plopped it into his caddy. “Lamivudine, once a day reverse transcriptase inhibitor.”

Justin started the same long process of picking up a single pill, it felt like it took twice as long and all Michael wanted to do was reach across the table and grab it himself.

“Lora, um, Lorazpan?” He looked at the therapist to confirm.

“Almost, it’s Lorazepam.” She gave him a smile. “Great job, what else?”

“Night time for sleep.”

“That is not something I need help with thankfully.” Vic boasted light heartedly.

They continued on in their game for what seemed like the entire morning, the therapist giving corrections and encouragement when he got waylaid.

“Okay here’s my last one,” Vic grabbed what was quite obviously a peanut M&M. “Soliciumfrankolithicmixyalebidiumrixydixydoxydexydroxide, once a day to keep me fabulous.”

Justin smiled and it was a shock to Michael, the realisation that it was the first time he’d seen him smile.

Vic was great with him, he understood having your body be out of your own control. So every other week or so he’d give up his day off and sit uncomfortably for hours and watch his uncle spend time with Justin who had become a kindred spirit.

It almost made it worth hearing the word ‘vagina’ about 3000 times more than he ever wanted to.

Almost.




_________________________________________





“I miss Justin’s dick.”

Brian was stoned. He was sprawled out across the floor of the loft, a haze of smoke surrounding him. It was very obviously the good shit.

This was absolutely not the scene he’d expected when he showed up at the loft just to check if Brian was still alive since none of the gang had seen him in a week. No diner stop offs, no drinks in Woodies and no backroom visits at Babylon.

“Fucking hell Brian, I don’t want to know about your 18 year-old boyfriend’s cock.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Brian spat the last word out like a cat hacking up a furball with a disgusted look on his face, the kind of look that most normal men would make if he’d instead called Brian’s mother a cunt. Brian, not being particularly normal, would have agreed with that sentiment but instead has his knickers in a twist over the assumption that Justin is his boyfriend. Which everyone and their non-cunt mothers know is fucking true.

“Alright, if you’re still being a pussy about it,” Michael said under his breath which Brian gave him a bleary eyed glare for. “Your 18 year-old whatever’s cock.”

“Hey!” Brian sat up and pointed at him. “You remember Jacinta?”

“Yeaaaah.” He stretched out the word, not knowing where Brian was heading with this but if Jacinta was involved it wasn’t a place he wanted to be.

When Michael turned 18 - at the little family dinner in celebration - Brian had ceremoniously bestowed upon him his gift. A pink 12” long dildo as thick as a beer can tied in an elegant black bow. He proclaimed loud and unabashed ‘I call her Jacinta’. Deb swore, Brian grinned, Michael went a bit green in the face and Vic who was visiting from New York for the weekend sighed ‘kids these days, no ambition’.

Jacinta had followed him from his mother’s house, she stuck proudly out of one moving box as he rented his first place then again when he moved into the place he shared with Emmett now. He left her behind when he moved in with David, kept safe by his former roommate. He was pretty sure she was in one of the kitchen cupboards behind the waffle iron.

“I think I might need to take her off your hands.” Brian informed him with all the seriousness of a doctor telling his patient he had cancer.