The sun begins to set over the city of Pittsburgh, and Liberty Avenue is bathed in soft orange light. A blonde boy with a rolling suitcase trailing behind him steps into the well known Liberty Diner. He sits, and hears a familiar "Be with you in a second!"

He grins. It's been three years since he and Brian called off their wedding and he moved to New York. The first year wasn't bad, they traveled back and forth practically every week to see each other, and took every holiday and vacation off to meet up, only spending time with each other, alone. By the second year, though, they began to grow distant. Meetings slowed to once a month, and then just stopped. Plane tickets were expensive, and hotel rooms, and every time they parted, they pain got worse. The last that Mr. Taylor had heard of him was an email, about six months ago, with pictures from Gus's eighth birthday party, and a message stating simply, "Canada's freezing, and the Munchers miss you. Love, Brian."

He was never one to drabble on.

A sharp bell ding pulls the blonde boy out of his reminiscing. A slightly plump woman with bright red, curly hair grabs a tray from the kitchen and dashes out to the dining area. "A pink plate special and a tuna on rye. Eat up, boys!" She turns to the man who just walked in, and shock lights up her face. Her eyes well up with tears immediately, and she throws the empty tray down, rushes to the booth, and grabs the slight man by the waist. "Oh, Sunshine! What on Earth are you doing here?" Before he could answer, she pulls herself out of his embrace and wallops him on the side of his head.

"You couldn't have sent a damn letter? In three years, not a single word? Leaving me to have to go off of Brian's 'Justin is doing so well, he looks great, he's really successful up in New York' and never, not once coming to see me!? I'm practically your mother!"

The boy cleared his throat, and spoke:

"I'm sorry, Deb."

That was all she needed to hear. She grabbed Justin again and buried her face in his chest. "Oh, I can't stay mad at you! Here, sit, order!" She pulled her notepad from her vest pocket and took down Sunshine's usual. He hadn't changed much, at least. Ten minutes later, Deb sits down with two plates of food. "Alright, I'm on break, so you better start talking about the past few years cause I only got half an hour."

Justin took a deep breath, and began to describe his life in the big Apple. How he'd been a huge success, sold hundreds of works, opened gallery after gallery and sold out months in advance. How he wanted to come back, every day, but couldn't get away. How he'd started saving his money and investing, and how he was now, officially, out of the business.

"You're what? But, honey, you're a great artist! The world wants Justin Taylor." He beamed at Debbie. "Yes, but, now I have enough money saved away to move back here, start a life where I belong.... With whom I belong."

Debbie cupped the side of his face. "When was the last time you saw each other?" Justin looked down, tears forming in his eyes. "Around a year. We tried instant messaging and stuff, but... It's been a while."

Deb looked sympathetically at the beautiful contours of Justin's face, and leaned across the table. "So, what did he say when you told him you were coming?"

The boy looked at his suitcase, then back at his plate, then up at Deb.

"Well, the thing is... He doesn't know I'm here. You're the first person who knows I'm back in Pennsylvania."

Justin stood on the corner, waiting for his taxi. His cheeks were red and sore, a side effect of being around Debbie for any period of time. He leaned against his suitcase and observed Liberty Avenue, taking it all in as if for the first time. He remembers the first man he ever spoke to on this street, and the horror he felt when he tried to take him home. Is this what men are like down here? He had thought, walking briskly away, but trying not to seem rude. He was horrified, and was just about to turn around and go safely to Daphne's, back to the normal, closeted, hereto lifestyle he was used to. He leaned against the lamppost, and tried to collect his thoughts.
That's when he saw him.
Justin closes his eyes and sighs, remembering the very first time he ever laid eyes on Brian Kinney. Despite his best efforts, a tear slides down his cheek as he thinks about the best five years of his life. Oh, how he wants to see him again. Will things go back to the way they were? He hoped so, prayed so, but… what if they grew too far apart? What if he's found another innocent Twink to take home and devirginize? Justin shuttered at the thought.
No. No! He thinks to himself. He wouldn't do that. He couldn't. We belong together. Justin shakes his head and wipes his cheek with his sleeve. He takes a deep, slow breath, and tries to clear his head.
Where the hell is that cab? He knows that every second he spends on the street he gets that much closer to being found by one of the guys. Emmett, at least, still went clubbing just as often as before, and he typically dragged at least one of the guys with him. Justin wouldn't be surprised if Brian was across the street in Woody's right now, as well.
Frustrated and bored, he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lights one. Taking a long drag, he turns to look down towards Babylon. He can't see it from here, but he knows that Brian rebuilt it not long after he left. Through everything- the bombing, the discrimination, the bashings- the queers still needed a place to dance, and they weren't about to be scared away by something like almost being blown up. In fact, he hears it's been doing better than ever before. Go figure.
He scans the crowd, looking for a familiar face. Not too familiar, but maybe someone he could talk to while waiting. A sharp gasp from behind him makes him jump, and before he can turn around, he knows who it is.
Shit. Shitshitshit. Of course. Justin sighs and turns around. I suppose if it had to be any of them, he would be the one to see first.
“Hey, Emmett! What's up?”