On May 26th, two things of note occurred.

The first occurred in the bedroom at the loft. Justin was in the kitchen making Brian's favorite breakfast of toast on toast with toast on the side, when suddenly he became aware of an unusual and unusually long silence.

As he did most Sunday mornings these days, Brian got up to puke; came back to bed grumbling obscenities; fell back asleep; woke up with a hard-on; received an expert blow-job; fell back asleep; woke up; took a shower; got dressed; and came down to the kitchen expecting breakfast and coffee, but rarely in that order. All of these things were done as loudly as humanly possible and punctuated by editorial comments, some of which were quite long, detailed and profane.

So when Justin became aware of the silence in the loft after having listened to Brian singing badly in the shower and practicing a client presentation in the mirror while shaving, he was truly alarmed. He put down the butter knife and went to investigate. He found Brian standing in front of his closet, wearing nothing but his sexiest pair of button-fly jeans and staring down at something.

"Brian?" he asked tentatively, but as nonchalantly, as possible. "You doin' okay?"

Silence.

"Brian?"

"I can't button the top button," Brian said.

Justin's heart rate spiked, but he was careful not to show any outward signs of excitement. He still wasn't sure what kind of mood was accompanying Brian's discovery.

"If you just washed them," he said, "they may have shrunk in the drier. Are they a clean pair?"

"Nope."

"How long ago did you last wear them?"

"A few days."

"Could you button them then?"

"Yes."

Silence. What the heck? When was Brian going to react and let him into his headspace?

"Uhm, do you want me to help you try to button the last button?"

"No."

"Okay."

"Are you hungry? I made you some toast and coffee."

Silence.

"Brian?"

No answer. Justin went to him and laid a hand on his arm, but Brian didn't react.

"Okay," he said clearing his throat. "If you don't need me for anything, I'm going to go back to making breakfast."

"I can't button the top button," Brian said.

Justin took a deep breath. "Are you freaking out?" he asked softly.

Brian placed a hand on his lower belly, just beneath the open waistband of his jeans.

"There're babies in there," he said. "That's why I can't button my jeans all the way."

Sensing this was a critical moment that could possibly turn out any number ways, Justin took another deep, deep breath.

"Yeah," he said. "There are babies in there." He nodded at Brian's hand where it still lay against his belly.

"Two babies," Brian said.

"God, I hope it's only two," Justin replied, trying to gently lighten the mood.

Brian didn't smile or in any way respond to Justin's effort.

"There are two babies inside of me."

"Yeah, there are."

"They're going to get really big."

"We hope they will. If everything goes fine, they will."

"If everything goes fine."

Justin's heart rate spiked again, but this time with fear rather than excitement.

"Everything will go fine," he said fiercely, willing his words to be true with all of his heart.

"You don't know that," Brian said.

How to respond? It was one of Brian's trademark statements. Brian did not count chickens before they hatched - or apparently babies before they were born as well. He was too distrustful of fate . . . and happy endings.

"One day at a time," Justin said, praying he didn't sound patronizing or dismissive. But what else could he say?

Brian began rubbing his belly in small circles.

"It feels so taut," he said.

"Your belly's always been taut," Justin replied, trying again to lighten the mood.

"No, this is different," Brian said. "There's no give at all. Even when I suck my gut in, I can't button that top button."

"Can I touch?" Justin asked softly.

Brian didn't look at him, but he nodded and removed his hand so that Justin could replace it with his. Brian was right; the barely noticeable rounding of his lower belly was hard. There was no way Brian was going to be buttoning that top button. Was it time for the Belly Band?

Justin sensed it wasn't. That in fact, bringing out Deb's Belly Band would cause some kind of apocalyptic response from Brian that Justin knew he wasn't prepared to deal with. He'd invariably say something wrong. It was practically a given.

"How about you try on a different pair of jeans?" he suggested.

He hadn't removed his hand, and Brian placed his own on top of it. Justin couldn't tell if it was a tender, loving gesture or a kind of demand that Justin recognize and acknowledge what he'd done. Maybe both?

"There are babies in there," Brian said again. Was that wondering awe or deep dismay in his voice? Brian had never been so hard to read before.

This time Justin just stayed quiet. Maybe Brian would say more if he wasn't interrupted.

"We made babies."

Justin bit his lip to stop himself from grinning. Yes, indeed, they had.

"You fucked me and put babies in me, and now I can't button the top button of my favorite pair of jeans."

Justin's nascent grin died. Where on earth was this going? Was Brian angry at him?

"You came inside me and now there are babies."

It was your damn too-small condom, Justin thought. It's not like it's a hundred percent my fault.

"Two babies."

Justin softly cleared his throat. He was starting to get very nervous. "C'mon," he said as soothingly as possible. "Let's try a different pair of jeans."

"Doesn't matter," Brian replied. "Another pair may button or zip all the way today, but probably not next week, let alone next month."

"If this is about clothes, we'll find a way to let you wear the stuff you have for as long as possible. There're tailors, there's elastic . . ."

"People are going to find out," Brian continued as though Justin hadn't spoken. "All the men I fucked and all the men I haven't are going to find out. My colleagues and clients are going to find out. The guys at the gym are going to find out. Everyone's going to find out that you fucked me and now I have babies growing inside of me."

Justin voice shook when he asked the question that needed to be asked.

"Are you changing your mind about having an abortion?" he asked.

"But there are two babies," Brian replied as though that made all the difference in the world.

"Yes, there are, but they're only eight weeks old - actually as of today. They're not viable on their own outside of your body. You wouldn't be killing viable human beings. You'd be making a decision about your body and your life - a decision which is yours by right and yours alone."

He couldn't believe he was being so calm, and he was proud of himself. He'd told Brian it was his choice, and he, Justin, would stand beside him whatever he chose . . . but, God, he wanted these babies so much! He was madly in love with them. He could feel them in his arms already and smell the sweet newborn scent on the tops of their heads. He could feel them squirming in their hospital blankets, their eyes still only narrow glints of hazel between dark lashes, their tiny hands grasping his finger as they blinked in the light of their new world.

"If the babies went away, I could button the top button of my jeans again."

Justin slowly removed his hand from underneath Brian's. He was going to cry. He knew what lay beneath Brian's words, but on the surface they seemed so trivial, so selfish.

Once Justin's hand was gone, Brian started rubbing his belly again. Justin wasn't even sure that Brian realized he was doing it.

"Yup, you could," he said unkindly. "And all would be fine and good with the world. Your jeans would fit; your manhood would go unsullied; your precious reputation as the toppiest-top of Liberty Ave would remain unquestioned."

Brian's head snapped around. He fixed Justin with a scary look.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit! He'd been so good, so supportive, and now he'd fucked it all up.

"You don't think very much of me, do you?" Brian said. "None of you do. Except Mikey."

Double shit!

"I got sober. I quit smoking. In a matter of weeks, I'm going to give up tricking. And why? Not because you wanted me to, but because I wanted to. I have two babies inside me, Justin! I'm not a person, I'm an incubator! They're what matters, not me! I'm nothing more than a baby machine. Everything I do - everything I am is about the babies now. And why? Not because you want them so much that you won't be able to stay with me if I get rid of them because part of you will hate my guts. Don't flatter yourself. I'm keeping them because I want to - not you, me. They're inside me. Your jeans still fit. You can still button the top button. So don't give me shit if I want to mourn because I can't anymore! Now find me another fucking pair. We have to be at Deb's in an hour."

Justin went through Brian's thousand pairs of jeans. Buttons were better than zippers because zippers had zero give whereas buttons had a little. Brian tried on pair after pair. With some it was even worse - he couldn't button the top two buttons. Finally, they found a pair that buttoned all the way and were even loose enough that Brian could reach his hand under his waistband.

"Now what shirt should I wear?" he asked. Justin knew that the question was code for ‘I'm sorry I went off on you like that, it's just that I'm freaking out.' Justin chose a merlot-red button-up shirt. He loved Brian in red; it accentuated his beautiful mouth.

Once he was fully dressed, shoes, leather jacket and all, Brian stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom and examined himself from every angle - and then did it again.

How do I look?" he asked.

"Great," Justin replied. "You always look great."

The second thing of note on that day of May 26th happened at Deb's house.

As far as Brian and Justin knew, it was just the usually weekly Sunday dinner, but when they walked through the door, they were greeted by cheers and applause and millions of rainbow streamers; Deb must've bought the Big Q's entire stock. On a banner hanging from the ceiling between the living room and the kitchen read: "Happy Two-Month Not-Yet-Birthday To The Family's Newest Members!"

Oh God.

Suddenly Justin felt like he was going to puke. How was Brian going to react? After the scene earlier at the loft, this could turn into a total train wreck. He actually had to sit down on the stairs for fear he might fall over.

But Brian surprised him by smiling - it wasn't a grin, and it was small, but it was definitely a smile.

"Congratulations, kiddo," Deb said, hugging him. "You made it through another month. Good for you."

"Yeah, congratulations, Bri," Ted said, clapping him on the back.

"Oh, sweetie, you're doing great," said Emmett kissing Brian's cheek. Brian made a show of wiping it off, but he was still smiling. It was a weird smile though - a smile that Justin knew was genuine but nonetheless had never seen before.

Brian was growing increasingly mysterious. It was as though he was leaving them behind as he stepped through some invisible doorway into a land that was totally inaccessible to the rest of them.

"Good job, Brian," Vic said with a nod. "Can I get you a glass of sparkling grape juice?"

Brian turned his odd little smile on Vic. "No thanks," he said. "Fizzy stuff makes the bloating worse. I'll stick with water."

There was a brief, but pin-droppingly silent, moment before everyone returned to a world in which Brian Kinney hadn't just announced to a roomful of people that he had gas.

Mikey approached him as surreptitiously as possible. "I read that doing half sit-ups helps expel extra . . . you know," Justin heard him whisper.

"Thanks for the tip, Mikey," Brian replied, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Where's the chicken parmesan? Italian is the only cuisine I haven't puked up yet."

They all filled their plates and settled themselves in the living room. Brian, of course, got the armchair - not that he wouldn't have anyway. Everyone just assumed he'd want it and sat somewhere else. Justin was praying fervently that no one would try to discuss the pregnancy, but everyone was good and respected Brian's wish not to be hounded by questions. Apparently the subject wasn't totally off the table, but it was obviously going to have to be Brian who brought it up.

There were a lot of the usual, comfortably-familiar conversations. Michael bitched about Andrew, his dick manager at the Big Q. Ted talked about the porn industry in accountant-speak. Justin was impressed that Ted could make even porn sound boring, so was Brian but not in a good way.

"Christ, Theodore," he said. "Way to take the ol' blush off the rose."

"I do my best," Ted replied, pretending to be dense and treating Brian's remark like a compliment.

Vic talked about his HIV support group. Emmett talked about the pros and cons of fake silver cock-and-ball rings (they were much more affordable than actual silver, but they tended to cause a rash if one is allergic to aluminum - he advised Justin to stay away from them). Ben talked about the book his class was reading (Brian pretended to fall asleep and snore loudly, which was funny because everyone just assumed he actually had). Deb talked about the new cook at the diner who liked to work in ass-less chaps. She said she'd ask Melanie if, when the guy inevitable got burns from splattering grease, he could apply for worker's comp. Everyone asked Justin whether he'd gotten his semester grades back yet and prodded Brian to discuss his latest ad campaign for a company selling grooming items for men.

"The nail clippers are pretty boring and hard to work with," Brian told them. "But I came up with the idea to focus solely on the nose and ear hair trimmer. It was a no-brainer, actually. Just assemble some photos of dudes with hair growing out of every orifice . . ."

"Let me guess," said Vic. "The copy reads ‘don't let this happen to you.'"

Brian gave him an appreciative nod. "Not bad," he said, "but I came up with something even better: ‘Don't let unsightly hair stand between you and a social life - buy MenWorx grooming tools and stop being That Guy everyone's laughing about at the water cooler.'"

Everyone cracked up. "No way," Michael said. "You didn't."

"I did," Brian said smirking with self-satisfaction.

"How do you get away with stuff like that?" Ted asked.

"Because my copy sells shit," Brian replied. "And other people's don't."

Everyone laughed again. They were just digging into dessert when there was a knock at the door. Everyone froze in various stages of eating when Deb went to answer it and stepped aside with an alarmed expression when Lindsay and Melanie walked in.

"Oh, shit," Michael breathed. "What the hell are they doing here? Ma said she didn't invite them . . ."

"Hello, everyone," Lindsay said cheerfully. "We were in the neighborhood and thought we'd stop by."

Everyone was staring at them except for Brian who continued to devour his giant piece of tres leches cake with its two candles - one pink and one blue.

"How lovely," Deb said with poorly disguised dismay. "Please take off your coats, the two of you, and have some cake."

"Cake?" Lindsay said. "What are we celebrating?" When nobody answered, she looked around and noticed the banner wishing a happy not-yet-birthday to the twins.

"What's a not-yet-birthday?" Mel asked. "Someone pregnant or something? Obviously not any of you guys."

She laughed. No one else did.

"Cake?" Deb asked. "It's delicious. Vic made it."

Lindsay smiled distractedly but nonetheless accepted the plate Deb handed to her. "I feel like there's something we're being excluded from," she said with a pleasant but anxious smile.

"Nonsense," Deb said. "Here're the forks . . ."

"Actually you are being excluded from something," Brian said. "But I'll remedy that right now."

Everyone turned to look at him so abruptly that it seemed like their heads might go flying off as though they'd been guillotined in a hurricane.

Lindsay gave him a fragile smile and set aside her piece of cake. She glanced around at everyone, taking in their shocked expressions.

"Bri," she said. "What's going on?"

"What's going on is that I'm pregnant," Brian said as though he was answering someone's question regarding the weather. "I'm going to have a baby in seven months - actually, make that two babies. We're celebrating the fact that they're two months old today. Sunshine knocked me up when we were in Vermont. He didn't mean to; the condom broke. We're all very happy despite the sixty to seventy percent possibility that I and/or the twins could die from complications either during the pregnancy or during birth."

The silence to end all silences ensued. Justin's brain shut down as though it was an engine that had overheated. He knew it should be him that said or did something first, but he couldn't. To say he'd been blindsided by Brian's news was the understatement of the century. Someone - he didn't know who - took his hand and squeezed it. How fucking like Brian to spring something like that on everybody so casually! Asshole!!

"God, I hate you sometimes," he told Brian with a voice that was almost not a voice - or at least it sounded that way.

Perhaps foreseeably, Michael dropped his fork and plate of cake and then he, himself, fell to his knees with an agonized sound. He covered his face with his hands and leaned forward until his head was on the carpet. His shoulders were shaking even though his throat was obviously incapable of making sobbing noises.

"Jesus, Brian," Ben said, kneeling down to try fruitlessly to comfort Michael. "Did you have to give us all this news like that?"

Brian shrugged and went back to eating his cake.

Deb clutched the railing as though she couldn't remain standing without its support. She probably couldn't.

"Brian," she choked, "Honey. What can we say? What can we do?"

Brian shrugged again. "Well, to answer your first question, nothing that will make any difference, and to answer your second question, I don't know. I'll let you know when I do."

Everyone was staring at Brian, but their attention momentarily shifted when Lindsay started laughing hysterically.

"Oh my God," she said, covering her mouth discreetly. "Brian, you are so irritating sometimes."

"Sorry about that," Brian said. "Can't be helped, I'm afraid. Wait till I start getting hemorrhoids. I'll be even more annoying then."

Michael lifted his head and sat up. "You fucking asshole!!" he screamed at Brian. "You fucking, unbelievable asshole!"

"You're right, I am," Brian said. "Both unbelievable and an asshole. Surprised, Mikey? Sunshine? Ted? Anyone?

"Men can't get pregnant," Lindsay said with a poorly manufactured calm. "They can't. It's not possible. You don't have a vagina. You don't have a uterus. You don't have ovaries. You don't have eggs. You don't have a birth canal . . ."

"No, you're certainly right on all counts," Brian replied. "Nor am I going to give birth through my asshole. That's a large part of the problem, you see, and it's why my good doctor is placing odds on the bet that I and/or the babies are going to wind up in the morgue. It's very medieval, isn't it? You've got to be at least a little bit pleased, Mel. Finally, life is kicking my Teflon ass."

Justin rose unsteadily to his feet. He was going to do it again, and it was going to play right into Michael's narrative seamlessly. But it couldn't be helped. He felt as though his heart was swollen with pain and fear past the ability of his ribs to contain it. He was going to tear open his shirt and claw at his chest and scream - right there in front of everyone, in front of Brian, himself. That couldn't happen. For so many reasons, he couldn't let that happen.

"Sunshine?" Deb said with alarm. "Are you okay?"

He turned blind eyes toward the direction of her voice. There was bad taste in his mouth - a combination of blood and bile and too-sweet cake. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Justin, honey," Emmett said. "Sit down."

Justin began shaking his head and couldn't stop. "Can't," he said. "Air."

"Okay," Ted said, standing up and reaching for Justin's arm. "Let's step outside."

But Justin was still shaking his head. Didn't any of them realize that he couldn't stand still? That he had to do something?

"Need to walk," he said, struggling to get past people to the door.

He was running away again.

"Brian!" Deb shrieked. "Do something! This is your fucking mess! How the fuck did you think Sunshine would react? You just fucking announced like it was no big fucking deal that the chances are he's going to lose one or both of his precious babies - and the chances are he's even going to lose you!"

Justin couldn't wait around to hear Brian's response. He needed to escape. He needed to try to outrun his shock and terror.

"That's it," Michael yelled. "Run away!"

"Mikey!" Brian said, but it was the last thing Justin heard. He'd reached the door and started running like he'd never run before toward the beacon of the setting sun.

Justin watched the Jeep approach, it's headlights bouncing with the uneven, gravel road. It stopped within yards of him.

"Hey," Brian said. "Get in." He reached over and opened the passenger door.

Justin was collapsed against a chain link fence that surrounded the high school's soccer field. He was leaned over with his hands on his thighs, trying - and failing - to catch his breath. Each inhale felt like barbed wire tearing at his lungs. He was drenched with sweat and shivering in the cool evening air.

He looked up at the Jeep and the open door. "No," he rasped.

"What are you going to do?" Brian asked. "Find a cardboard box and sleep under it like a homeless person? Get in the car."

"But I don't want to," Justin said, panting for breath. "You're a fucking asshole. I never want to see your face again."

Brian let his head drop back against the headrest in obvious exasperation. "I think that resolution has already been raised and passed by an overwhelming majority of votes. In fact, if I'm remembering correctly, I believe the outcome was unanimous."

"And that's funny?" Justin asked. "So now you've made your requisite joke at which I laugh - ha ha ha - and get in the car, and we drive home and fuck."

Brian nodded. "Yup, that's pretty much what I had in mind."

"Well, not this time," Justin said. "I didn't find your joke funny; I won't get in the car, and I sure as hell won't let you fuck me."

Brian shrugged. "Okay, then you can fuck me."

Justin looked at him incredulously for a moment and then burst out laughing.

"You're kidding, right?" he said. "Please tell me you're kidding."

Brian frowned. "Actually, no, I wasn't. Why would I? I thought you liked fucking me."

Justin was so pissed that he couldn't even find the words to express himself. He bent down, pulled a clump of grass out of the ground and threw it straight at Brian's beautiful smirking face.

Brian's entire demeanor changed in the flash of an instant. He threw open his door and came around the front of the Jeep until he was within feet of Justin. Justin had missed him with the first clump of dirt, but the second one got him straight in the middle of his chest. He was just about to throw a third clump when Brian grabbed his wrist and twisted it so that Justin was forced to turn around where Brian caught him in a headlock.

"You little shit!" he hissed. "That is the second fucking time you've thrown something at me. It stops. Now."

"Fuck you!" Justin shouted, trying to struggle out of Brian's grasp. Realizing Brian was too strong, Justin kicked backwards at Brian's shin.

"Ow! Fuck!" Brian yelled, loosening his grasp long enough for Justin to wriggle out of it. Justin danced backward when Brian tried to grab him again.

"I am not going home with you!" he yelled.

Brian lunged for his collar, but Justin evaded him again.

"What're you going to do?" Brian panted. "Run off to be someone's fucking dog walker again?"

"Maybe!" Justin shouted.

Brian's expression was savage; he lunged again, but this time Justin was ready for him. He crouched, and when Brian was close enough, he slammed into Brian's stomach with all his might like a linebacker.

Brian froze and staggered backward . . .

. . . and then Justin remembered . . .

Everything happened in slow motion. Brian bent over and collapsed to his knees. He didn't cry out; clearly Justin had knocked the breath out of him. He fell forward until his head hit the ground and then flopped over onto his side. All the time both arms were wrapped tight around his middle. After a second, he found his voice and let out a terrible sound.

Justin heard himself scream Brian's name even though he hadn't consciously formed the word. He stumbled to his knees and clawed his way to where Brian lay. Brian had ground his face into the mud, obviously in so much pain that he didn't give a shit. Mud even filled his mouth as he gasped for breath.

Part of Justin believed fervently that if he could just wish hard enough, they could go back in time. He was in shock, incredulous beyond words that this was all happening. He grabbed Brian's shoulder and tried with all his strength to roll Brian on his back, but he couldn't. Brian had curled himself around his belly in a fetal ball.

"Call Bernstein," Brian said, half gagging on the words.

Justin reached inside Brian's jacket and grabbed his phone. He was hyperventilating to the point where he was almost sure he'd pass out. He dialed Dr. Bernstein's number with clumsy, tingling fingers.

"Brian's hurt!" he yelled when the doctor answered the phone. "God, he's hurt and it's my fault!" He heard himself wailing the words as though he was separated from himself by a great distance.

"Where are you?" Dr. Bernstein yelled. "Call an ambulance. I'll meet you at the doors to the emergency wing!"

Justin hung up and dialed 911. After he'd told the operator all the information she needed, he dropped the phone and tried all kinds of desperate, helpless gestures to comfort Brian who'd uncurled from his ball and was on his back, writhing and groaning.

He's going to die! The babies are going to die! Justin couldn't stop the words from circling through his mind in a whirlwind of shattered thoughts. He chastised himself angrily. Brian needed him there! He needed Justin to have a clear head!

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay, Brian. An ambulance is coming." He tried to smooth the hair back from Brian's brow, but Brian was thrashing his head from side to side. Finally, Justin heard the sound of sirens. Brian grabbed his collar and dragged him down until his mouth touched Justin's ear.

"Save the babies," he choked. "If you have to make a choice, save the babies."

And then he passed out.