Another night he was studying late.

Another project that kept him late at the library.

Another lie.

It had been going on for a while. Far too long, in fact, for Brian’s liking. No matter how much he willed it to stop, it kept happening: Justin would fail to come home, claiming he was busy with school. Eventually, he would return to the loft, an air of secrecy and guilt surrounding him. Then, before Brian could get to him, Justin would slip in the shower alone.

Brian didn’t need a flashing sign to know what Justin was doing. He was breaking their rules, again, and Brian was at a loss. He had no idea how to approach the subject. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to talk about it. Talking made it real. Besides, what the fuck would he even say? Brian doubted there was anything that could be said to salvage things. At least, not anything he was willing to say. He wasn’t going to beg. He wouldn’t offer up pitiful outpourings of affection. No fucking way.

He knew Justin was slipping through his fingers, and as much as he vehemently denied having any feelings towards the twat, something was gnawing at his gut when he thought of Justin with someone else. It was an ugly feeling, one which had wormed its way underneath his skin and which he couldn’t manage to rid himself of.

Brian was walking on broken glass; he knew it, but he didn’t want to admit to it out loud. Confronting Justin was no easy feat. Once said, the words couldn’t be taken back, and then it would be over. Then again, if whatever he and Justin had was coming to an end, Brian supposed he would prefer for it to end fast.

The clock read two o’clock in the morning. It was around that time Justin usually returned, offering him a smile and blowing him a kiss on his way to wash off the evidence of the past hours of his life. Most nights, Brian would end up sitting on the edge of their bed, listening to the pipes rumbling and the water rushing, painfully aware of the silence stretching between them. He had become resentfully resigned to this sorrowful activity. How could this have happened to him? How did he end up in this ridiculous situation, being cheated on and being made to feel rejected and lonely? Fuck – he hated this. He hated dwelling on this shit.

In a weak attempt to distract himself, Brian started organizing his briefcase for work. As he gathered some files he’d need in the morning, he found a CD case hidden amongst them. He stared at the man on the cover and his violin for minutes. This person was a total stranger to him, but how familiar must he be to Justin by now? Brian could recall how Justin was once obsessed with knowing him, with mapping him out and discovering him. Is that what he was busy doing with this other man? The thought made Brian ill.

What does he have that I don’t?

Disgusted, Brian threw the case across his desk, and started pacing in wait for Justin. That was it – he was going to do something about this mess they were in. Though, if they put too much light on this they'd see through all the cracks. They could stay in the dark for one more night. Brian accepted the silence, but the truth he didn’t want to hear, staring him in the face was scary as shit. The truth was going to change everything.

oOo

Justin stared unblinking at a spot on the floor. He was vaguely aware of Ethan’s warm body behind him and his fingers stroking his arm.

All he could think of was Brian. It had never been his intention to hurt him, but since Brian would never give him what he needed, he found it in another place. And now he was stuck in the middle. At first it had felt like he was suspended in limbo, but now it was starting to feel like a tug of war. He was beginning to dread the end result, which he suspected would be him being torn limb for limb.

While Justin’s love belonged to Brian, he was overwhelmingly drawn to Ethan, who gave him everything he wanted. So where did he belong? Justin felt like he didn’t belong to either man. Brian was sharing him with Ethan, and Ethan was sharing him with Brian. It wasn’t fair to either of them, or to him. But try as he might, Justin couldn’t figure out what to do.

His love for Brian was persistent; it remained a part of him even at the worst of times. He wanted for that to be enough, but lately it simply wasn’t. There were still plenty of good times – great times, actually – when Brian made him feel alive, adored, ablaze with passion. But then there were the times when Justin felt outcast and unwanted. It was alarming how quickly Brian could switch from one to the other; it was enough to give Justin whiplash.

Ethan never did that. Ethan was always willing to give. Ethan never made him feel lonely or unloved. Why couldn’t Brian give him that? Why couldn’t it be that simple?

How the fuck did he end up here?

Closing his eyes for the first time in the past hour, he took a shuddering breath. It was time to head home. That’s what the loft had always felt like – home. It had been so for a long while now. Lately, though, Justin felt out of place there. He longed to return to that place where he’d once been, where Brian was his and the loft was theirs. It didn’t feel that way anymore. Everything was murky grey and uncertain. Still, he couldn’t stay here all night. He couldn’t keep Brian waiting and worrying.

Is he waiting and worrying? Does he even care?

With a violent shove, Justin pushed those thoughts far from his mind. He couldn’t deal with that right now. It was time to go. He winced as Ethan’s arms squeezed him, as if he had sensed that Justin was preparing to depart. Silently, he extracted himself from Ethan’s affectionate embrace.

Justin wasn’t sure how long this game was going to last. He was playing with fire. It was becoming too much for him; hiding from Brian, holding himself back from giving himself completely to Ethan, knowing that there were two people who cared about him on their own level of feeling love, that there were two people kissing him, missing him, wishing he was with them. Wishing there were two of him, probably. That would make it so much simpler – if he could split himself in two, and give each of them one.

While Justin got dressed, he avoided eye-contact with Ethan. He was hurting two people he loved very much. Before he could slip out the door, Ethan kissed him promising to meet the next day. It was so unbearably bittersweet hearing that promise uttered. Justin knew Ethan would keep that promise, but would he ever be able to return the favor? Should he? He felt as conflicted as he did guilty.

He realized Brian suspected he was lying about his school projects every night, but he knew Brian would never kick him out, or break up on his own. Breaking up meant admitting they had a relationship to begin with, which they didn’t. At least, not according to Brian. Justin wished he could figure out what the fuck it was Brian thought they did have. Sure, it wasn’t traditional or simple, but it was something, wasn’t it? Justin had thought he’d known what it was, once, but the sense of certainty he’d once known had long since disappeared.

On the way home, Justin almost envisioned what was going to happen. He’d get into the loft, greet Brian, run for the shower to wash off Ethan’s scent and the smell of sex, before getting in bed with Brian. He felt a wave of sickness hit him. How could he do this? How could he willingly allow Brian to touch him and kiss him and fuck him after mere hours earlier another man had been doing the very same things. What the fuck was wrong with him?

All Justin could hope was making it through another night. With each passing night, his heart kept getting more and more torn. Soon, it would shatter completely. It was inevitable. He knew it was coming, but it terrified him nonetheless. What would become of him? He didn’t want to know what the outcome might be. No, that was too fucking frightening. He had to keep pretending everything was going to be okay. He could sustain the lies and pretend that he was really busy with projects. He could do that, if only for a little longer.

The end was near, though. He could feel it, smell it, taste it in the air as he stepped into the loft. It was wrapped tightly around him, constricting him, making it harder and harder for him to breathe.

oOo

The loft’s door sliding open announced Brian the wayward twat had returned. A wave of bitterness crashed into Brian, along with a flood of dreaded questions that he didn’t dare ask: Where were you tonight? You were with him, weren’t you? What were the two of you doing?

As question after question filled his mind, the bitterness intensified. Again, he wondered how this could have happened. How the fuck did he end up here?

Justin tried making his now usual route to the bathroom, but Brian stopped him. He claimed he preferred Justin’s smell, which he usually did. Not at the moment when it was mixed with a horrible cheap-ass cologne and the fiddler’s sweat. It made Brian’s stomach turn. As the scent hit him, so did intrusive thoughts of how it had gotten there. What had the two of them been doing? Where had Justin been touched? Did he touch his lover back? Was it the same with him as it was with them? Fuck – he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something, anything, to get these nauseating questions the fuck out of his head.

Justin looked so innocent, yet the guilt in his voice as he attempted to escape approaching Brian gave him away. Brian reached for the one solution he could think of. As Brian kissed Justin in a carnal way, he tried to show him he wouldn’t find what they had anywhere else. He tried to communicate without words all the insane feelings swarming around inside of him. He felt as though failure was imminent, but he wasn’t ready to admit to that yet.

So he kept going. Brian smashed his mouth to Justin’s. How does it feel when you kiss, when you know that I trust you?

He sniffed at Justin’s clothes, fighting the disgust consuming him. Do you think about me when he fucks you?

Justin gasped into Brian’s mouth, returning the kiss. He was trying to apologize and make things right, but both of them knew full well that it was too late.

Brian’s kiss told Justin all that he couldn’t voice: you can tell me that there's nobody else, you can tell me that you're home by yourself, you can look into my eyes and pretend all you want, but I know, I know, your love is just a lie.

He had no idea how Justin could live this parallel life. How was it possible for Justin to split himself in two like that? To live with him, whilst stealing away to someone else, then returning home as if nothing had happened? Brian had never felt so betrayed, full of rage, and painfully manipulated in his life.

Alive with crackling lust and a consuming sense of possessiveness, Brian pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses on Justin’s neck. Their eyes met for a brief moment.

When he kisses you on the neck, do you think of me I used to make you scream?

When he's holding you the way I used to, do you know how it's making me burn inside?

When he's deep inside of you, does he look at you the way I used to? The way I still do.

Justin saw everything in Brian’s eyes. He knew. If not everything, then he knew something. And it hurt him. It gutted him.

Seeing such raw emotions from Brian gave Justin a spark of hope. Hope that Brian could open up, desperate to keep Justin around. He returned the rough kiss with everything he had.

Say you love me! Say you need me! Don't let the silence do the talking. Just say you want me, or you don't need me. It's killing me.

Brian pushed Justin to the floor, removing his shirt. Justin tried hiding regret in his smile. He knew Brian would smell him any moment now, better than he could before, and the truth would be plainly evident. The storm in Justin’s eyes was something Brian had seen coming for a while. They were headed to the eye of the tornado.

Brian returned to devouring Justin’s mouth, biting his chin. His pained moans were more unspoken words.

So lie to me and tell me that everything will be alright. So lie to me and tell me that we'll make it through the night. I don't mind if you wait before you tear me apart. Look me in the eye.

Lie, lie, lie.

You’ve gotten so good at lying, Sunshine. What’s another small lie?

I love the way you lie.

Justin failed to see the silent words Brian was trying to communicate. He was focused on the way Brian was making him feel. His skin felt on fire, every part of his body Brian touched burst into flames.

When Brian unsnapped Justin’s jeans and his hand brushed his dick, Justin was sure he’d combust. He hadn’t been this turned on in so long. Brian had always made him lose his head, but that night he was on a mission to make Justin explode.

Brian leaned in for another kiss. It was suddenly too much. He knew he couldn’t go on with what he’d started.

Smelling and tasting another man on Justin was pure torture. He couldn’t bite his tongue forever, while Justin tried to play it cool, hiding behind his little stories. Justin couldn’t fool him, and it was time he found out. So he pulled away, bringing their heated coupling to a painfully abrupt halt.

"Why did you stop?" Justin whimpered, lost in pleasure. His lust-filled eyes met dark hazel ones, staring stonily at him. "Brian?"

“Go take a shower,” Brian rasped, pushing away from Justin’s sprawled body. “You stink.”

The bed seemed bigger that night. Lonelier, too, than it had ever felt before.

Justin faced away from Brian, keeping his eyes fastened on the moon glaring at him from outside the window. He longed for it to carry him off to sleep, off to peaceful darkness where he could hide. It struck him as a cowardly thing to long for, but Justin was becoming very well acquainted with cowardice. He hated himself for it, but he had also become resigned to it. The only other way forward seemed far too frightening.

Brian could feel Justin’s warm body from his side of the bed, but it was an illusion. Justin had never felt more distant, not even when all they did was sleep after Brian took him in after he’d been released from the hospital. Brian hadn’t thought it possible, but he felt more helpless than he had then.

Justin was only a shadow filling the room, arriving too late and leaving too soon. He was rarely present as of late, and when he was around, he wasn’t actually there. Brian could read through his every look and gesture. It killed him, peering through the deception and coming face-to-face with harsh, dreaded truths.

Brian reflected on a few hours ago when Michael had told him about Justin potentially seeing someone else, regularly. Of course, he’d known, and he’d immediately dismissed Michael’s pathetic attempts at prompting him to do something about his feelings. He was Brian Kinney, for fuck’s sake! He wasn’t going to subscribe to all that hetero bullshit and play pretend with some bullshit committed relationship. Justin was free to choose what he wanted to do… who he wanted to do.

The part that hurt the most was the way he chose to do it; behind Brian’s back. Brian didn’t do relationships for this very reason: so he wouldn’t be cheated on, so he wouldn’t be lied to, so he wouldn’t have his heart twisted and stomped on by a backstabbing little brat.

I took it all for granted, but how was I to know that you'd be letting go. Now it cuts like a knife, but it feels so right.

Brian heard a distinctive sniff, and glanced over to see Justin’s tensed body. He was clearly trying not to cry, but it was a weak attempt; the past hour’s events were catching up with him. Brian looked away. He wasn’t going to reach out, not now. Even if he were willing, he doubted it would do any good.

That wouldn't be the first time things have gone astray, now Justin had thrown it all away. His attempts at feeling loved and cherished, something Brian wouldn’t give him, had created a twisting strain between them. Justin wished he could bridge the gap, but what was the point if Brian refused to meet him halfway?

Then again, there was so much between them that Justin didn’t think he could bear to throw away. As much as he loved all the moments spent with Ethan, nothing could compare with his time spent with Brian… could it? Every kiss, every touch, every glance almost felt like their first night together, only it even got better and better every time. Brian was still the one to ignite that spark in his heart, to turn the fire on like the first time their eyes met.

Closing his eyes, Justin recalled their first night together, the smell of Brian’s skin, the softness of his lips as they kissed, the fire in his eyes, the perfect motion of his body, and his voice as they made love for the first time. The memory made him ache, so severely that he found himself on the verge of tears.

As Justin’s shoulders began to tremble, Brian’s stomach dropped. He wanted to shout, to sit up and yell, “Stop crying like a stupid twat! You brought this upon us,” but he held his tongue. He wasn’t presently sure of his capacity for speech. The knot in his throat made it painful enough to breathe, let alone speak.

He felt somewhat responsible for Justin turning to another man, too. He’d driven him away with his pride, his ego, his needs, and his selfish ways. Of course all of that would cause a young, strong man like Justin to walk out of his life. It was fucking inevitable. There was no undoing it. Now it was impossible to clean up the mess he’d made, and it haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

Suddenly, Justin flipped around and wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck, startling him and very nearly choking him. Hot tears washed Brian’s neck.

Please forgive me - I can't stop loving you. Don't deny me, this pain I'm going through.

“Please forgive me,” Justin wept, his body quaking with the force of his sobs.

All Brian did was hug Justin tightly, as if saying never leave me, I don't know what I'd do. That was all he could do; he remained silent, otherwise, with nothing to say. What could he say, anyway? Give some pathetic apology for his behavior? Brian Kinney never apologized. Besides, Justin was warned. He had known what he was getting into… hadn’t he?

Should he admit he should have acted differently? He should have brought Justin flowers—he’d have loved the gesture. He should have done other coupley things like hold his hand, spent more time with him, paid more attention to his needs, been more involved in whatever it was that they had. There were so many could-haves and should-haves that he was beginning to crumble under the weight of his regret.

No. No. Fuck that. No apologies, no excuses, and no regrets. Absolutely no way. Brian Kinney wasn’t going to apologize for his mistakes and he sure as shit wasn’t going to let regret weight him down. He kept a firm hold on Justin, but that was it. That was all he was going to do. Anything more, and he’d risk losing himself as well as Justin. Maybe that made him a shitty partner… or a shitty person in general… but that was hardly a revelation, was it?

Meanwhile, Justin continued to cry. It was softening, growing quieter, but that wasn’t to say Justin seemed any less distraught. His distress was palpable, in fact, even painfully so as Justin whispered, “What is becoming of us, Brian?”

Exactly what you wanted, Sunshine. You brought us to ruin. Brian wasn’t going to answer a stupid question. His only reply was a hand running over Justin’s back. He refused to offer anything more than that. If Justin wanted to pour his heart out, he could pour his fucking heart out. If Justin wanted to fight, he would have to be the one to ignite it. Brian wasn’t going to be fucked. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again.

Realizing he wasn’t going to extract a response from Brian, Justin resigned himself to silence and clamped his mouth shut. Keeping quiet was one thing; stopping his tears was quite another. Choking on a sob and sniffing loudly, Justin burrowed deeper into Brian’s warm embrace. It wasn’t like he expected a miracle to happen. Justin’s only hope had been Brian talking to him, shouting at him, punching him. All Justin wanted was a reaction, like their passionate clash from earlier, their almost-fuck that ended way too soon. He had hoped that Brian would continue the confrontation after Justin had showered. But as he had emerged from the bathroom, he found Brian on the bed smoking from a cigarette, completely ignoring him. It had been startlingly clear that Brian had no interest in engaging him further.

It wasn’t beyond him to start begging, but it would make him look weak and guilty. Rather, weaker and guiltier than he already did. Justin had never felt more pathetic in his life. With tears still sliding down his face, he coiled his arms more tightly around Brian, hoping it would do something to express his remorse, his sorrow, his longing.

Whether it did or it didn’t, Justin had no idea. Brian eased away from him, slipping from Justin’s embrace like sand through his fingers. Before Justin could protest, Brian muttered, “Sleep, Sunshine. You have an early class.”

His gruff voice cut through Justin’s heart. The bed felt lonelier than ever as Brian moved far over to the other side. Justin couldn’t deny that he deserved it; they both knew the truth, which was that Justin didn’t have an early class. He was meeting Ethan.

I can’t do this anymore, Justin thought helplessly. He closed his eyes and turned to stare out the window again. The moon had disappeared somewhat behind gathering clouds, leaving nothing but a soft yellow glow filtering through the hazy mass. It helped to soothe him, somehow.

Before falling in a fitful sleep, Justin decided he was going to end things with Ethan. He loved Brian too much to continue hurting him. So that would be that: he would end it.

oOo

That was the plan, but as it turned out, Justin couldn’t resist being around Ethan. He was the only person who gave Justin what he wanted. He even proved how sweet and attentive he was by asking Justin to drive to the country and watch the meteor shower that upcoming Friday.

Sadly, Justin couldn’t accept the invitation. Brian’s attempt to show his love for Justin in a selfless way was through a release party for his comic book.

Ethan didn’t seem affected by Justin’s rejection. He commented on Brian loving him a lot for throwing a party for his comic book. Then he offered Justin his latest CD where he’d used the drawing that Justin had done the first time they met. There was something deeply touching about that. It warmed Justin and stayed with him for ages afterwards.

He hadn’t felt that way in such a long time. He clung to the feeling, absorbing it, treasuring it.

He wished that it was Brian making him feel that way instead of Ethan, but it wasn’t.

oOo

As Brian walked on the Liberty Avenue, he saw a familiar yet strange face. It was him. Justin’s lover. Apparently, he was a beggar. It made Brian truly question Justin’s reasons for being with the guy. Was ‘love’ really that important to him to reduce himself to this? Falling for a nothing and a nobody?

Inadvertently through their short exchange of words, Brian caught the fiddler’s attention. He blamed the cold outside to go into the diner. He knew the man would follow, like a moth to the flame. Money got everyone interested.

While Brian was playing mind games with Ethan – giving him hope for a better life, and almost gushing that his favorite composition was Paganini's cantata in D-Major, which was ridiculously romantic – a thought occurred to him: maybe the romancing was what lured Justin into the fiddler’s net. It was probably an endless array of clichéd bullshit – flowers, sonnets and the like.

As he was silently ridiculing such absurd gestures, Brian noticed Justin walking into the diner. “I should give you my card. My name's Brian, Brian Kinney. And... you are?”

He smiled sweetly at the fiddler, who was beginning to look incredibly uneasy. Brian felt a sharp kick of satisfaction at that.

Trying to mask his discomfort, the man stated, “Ethan. Gold.”

“Brian! Brian, I thought you'd be at work,” Justin said, approaching them tentatively. When he noticed who Brian’s companion was, he saw his world shattering right before his eyes. The moment he had dreaded so deeply had come faster than he thought.

Brian watched the secret looks, the terrifying truth exchanged through glances between Justin and Ethan. The sharp kick of satisfaction was gone – no, utterly obviated. “No, I had a business meeting. Justin, this is Ethan. Ethan, Justin.”

Ethan was the first to break the awkward silence that had fallen upon them. “I need to go to class.”

Seeking out the sense of satisfaction that had so quickly evaded him, Brian decided to try and enjoy himself. There was no reason he shouldn’t have fun showing Justin he knew all about his little secret.

“By the way, if you're interested the job’s yours,” he called after Ethan.

Once they were alone, Justin hesitantly turned his gaze to Brian. Regret, apologies, sadness, anger; they were all reflected clearly in his blue eyes. Brian didn’t let it get to him. He merely gave Justin a look that said: “I’m onto you. I know everything.”

oOo

That night, Justin felt like a total stranger as he stepped into the loft, terrified Brian was going to kick him out for good. He found Brian staring at his computer and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for whatever lay ahead. It didn’t seem to do much good.

Brian held up a finger, making Justin wait. It was a vain attempt to stall the inevitable conversation. When he gave Justin the go ahead, the first thing the twat did was apologize. Brian didn’t need nor want any of Justin’s meaningless apologies. Incensed, yet reluctant to fully show it, he started mocking Justin.

“You were the poor, helpless victim of a love-bashing.”

“I should have told you,” Justin said in a small voice.

“And taken all the fun out of it?” Brian glanced up at Justin incredulously. When he was met with a confused and pained expression, he looked away, sniffed, and asked in a somewhat bored voice, “So, how big's his dick?”

“It has nothing to do with that.” Justin walked away from the desk; he wasn’t going to have this talk with Brian.

Brian caught up with him at the kitchen island. “Since when? You love cock. You love it down your throat. You love it up your ass. You love riding it. And after you come, you love to fall asleep with it still inside you.”

He made sure to demonstrate the validity of his point by pushing his hand in Justin’s jeans. He tried leaning in for kisses, tried pulling Justin closer, tried meeting his gaze with a teasing smile, but Justin was having none of it.

All too soon, Justin pushed Brian away, telling him, “Cut it out!”

“You’re hard,” Brian commented snidely, “So don’t tell me it doesn’t matter.”

As he was walking away, Justin called after him in protest. “There are other things!”

Brian relented, trying to find out what it was about that bum of a fiddler that was so fucking special. “Flowers? Picnics? Violin music…”

“He loves me,” Justin answered simply, eyeing Brian searchingly.

Brian rolled his eyes, mocking coolly, “Your dreamy-eyed schoolboy.”

“In ways that you can’t!”

“In ways that I won’t,” Brian said calmly. He thought everyone could see how much he cared for Justin. Apparently the twat was the exception to that.

“He told me that I’m all he wants,” Justin added unsteadily. He knew Brian would never tell him that, or probably ever even feel that way. Brian was always seeking out the company of other men. Even if it was only for brief snatches of time, it was beginning to be more than Justin could bear. He wanted what Ethan was offering. He wanted to be someone’s one and only.

“They’re still using that one?” Brian deadpanned in reply, quickly returning to being mock-curious.

With his voice going thin, Justin retorted, “It’s more than you’ve ever said!”

Ever will, Justin added in his head.

As if reading his mind, Brian answered, “And it’s more than I ever will. So, what the fuck are you still doing here?”

He said this with his hands cradling Justin’s head, their faces pressed together in a deceptively intimate nuzzle. Brian wanted it to mean something, but it so clearly didn’t. Justin wanted that fucking fiddler and all of his pretty little promises. His heart breaking piece by piece inside his chest, he soaked up what he was certain were their final moments together. He should have known being with Justin in whatever they had wasn’t going to last forever. Eventually, Justin would find someone more suited to him, someone who willingly gave him the things Brian never would.

“Would you care if I wasn’t?” Justin asked, his voice straining. He was so aware of Brian’s physical closeness – the hands stroking the back of his neck, reaching into his hair, the graze of Brian’s thumb as he touched it gently to Justin’s chin – but that was all there was. It became more and more apparent how distant Brian was as Justin stared into his hollow, hazel eyes.

Say you love me! Say you need me! Don't let the silence do the talking. Just say you want me, or you don't need me. It's killing me.

They maintained eye-contact for a while. Brian searched Justin’s face for some sign of understanding, but there was nothing to be found. He couldn’t believe it – how the fuck could Justin ask him something like that? He’d tried, hadn’t he? He’d tried harder with Justin than he ever had with anyone. Well, fuck it. It was all shot to shit now.

It’s only your shadow. Never yourself.

I hope he buys you flowers. I hope he holds your hand. I hope he offers you the romance you want. I hope he loves you enough. I hope he does all the things I should have done when I was your man.

“It’s your call where you wanna be. You decide,” Brian said monotonously, brushing past Justin as he returned to his desk, not seeing Justin’s face mashed up in pain.

oOo

The next time Justin saw Ethan, they discussed the apparently impromptu run-in Ethan had with Brian.

It was the closest they ever came to a fight.

Ethan demanded he couldn’t wait and wish and hope that night was going to be the night Justin would finally stay. Not when he had the upcoming competition to think of. He needed the money and the possible contract. He was definitely not going to accept Brian’s donation.

All Justin could say was, “I want to stay.”

“Well, you can’t. You can’t. So just go back to your boyfriend. And I’ll go back to my violin.” He made it a point to start grinding away with his back to Justin, who tried to talk to him.

When he realized it was actually over, Justin got up from the couch and fled angry—at himself, at Ethan, at Brian, at the mess he was stuck in.

oOo

At the loft, Brian was waiting awake. The later it got, the bigger the gnawing in his stomach got.

Justin had chosen. And it wasn’t him.

Then he heard the beautiful sound of the metal door sliding open. He never thought that sound would cause his cold body to warm, or his heart to beat faster. Justin had chosen him. The relief Brian felt was utterly intoxicating. Whatever this was, he wasn’t ready for it to end, that was for fucking sure.

Justin approached the bed slowly, not letting his face betray him. Ethan had kicked him out. And there he was, back in the cold loft, which he’d once considered home. He undressed quietly with Brian watching his every move expressionlessly. Justin wished that Brian would say something, anything, or at least let down his defenses and show how he was feeling.

His wish went unanswered. Sure, Brian was letting him stay, he was inviting him back into their bed, but it all felt so empty. Justin wanted more. He needed more.

Brian lifted the sheet for Justin to crawl in their bed. The second he was laying down, Brian spooned him, running his fingers over Justin’s hand, hoping he had him back for good.

The position didn’t allow them to see the tears in their eyes. Even though they were huddled together in their bed, in their home, they both knew the storm was far from over yet.

oOo

At the Rage party, after Justin found Brian fucking himself – quite literally! –, he stomped back to the dance floor. He was determined to leave. He couldn’t bear to stay at this party, knowing Brian was celebrating with someone other than him. Justin forced a smile at the people congratulating him and pushed his way through the crowd, grimly determined to get the fuck out of dodge and go home where he could fume in peace. The second Brian returned to the loft they would have another confrontation, that was for sure. They were going to have it out and get everything out in the open. Maybe they could set new rules and renegotiate whatever… this was. That would be their next step. That would be how they would move forward from all of this.

All of his determination vanished when he found Ethan amongst the crowd. The mere sight of him brought a smile to Justin’s face. There was a thought lurking in the back of his mind, something familiar, but Justin tuned it out in favor of approaching Ethan.

“I was practicing Beethoven. It sounded like shit and I realized that’s all your fault,” Ethan said.

“My fault?” Justin asked, amused.

“I tried to forget about you, but I can’t. You’re all I think about,” Ethan confessed. The admission sent hope spiraling dizzily through Justin. He couldn’t help it; there was no avoiding the effect Ethan had on him. There was also no avoiding the thought that was pushing its way to the front of his mind; as Justin thought of Brian

As soon as Brian finished fucking Rage, he strolled back out into the crowd gathered on the dance floor, scanning the space to see where Justin had gone. He had no idea what the next step was, he… there was no next step. He realized that as soon as he glimpsed Justin and Ethan, together, kissing heatedly. It was like Brian had been stabbed in the gut. As Justin turned to look at him, he felt the knife twist sharply.

When their eyes met, all the unspoken words were shouted loud and clear. Justin had made his choice. It was over.

It was over.

Of course, it wasn’t like that actually mattered. It didn’t. It didn’t. Brian assumed a perfected mask of coolness as Justin and Ethan walked out of Babylon together, wrapped up in each other. He wasn’t going to let a twink create havoc in his carefully orchestrated life. Nothing touched him. No one hurt him.

So what if Justin was gone? Life would go on. There were other hot guys waiting to be fucked by Brian Kinney.

Though, it was easier thought than done.

The moment Brian saw Justin leaving, something inside him broke, possibly beyond repair.