He hadn't run away; he'd walked. There's a big difference. To run away is to try to escape something. To walk away is to relinquish, to surrender to an uncontested inevitability. He didn't run from Brian's words; he simply left them hanging in the air. Voices called after him, but he didn't pause to hear what they were saying. They were undoubtedly pleading with him to stay and assuring him that things had gotten out of hand but they could easily be put back together again.

They were wrong.

Brian had pushed the red button. He'd invaded Cuba. He'd chosen the nuclear option.

Justin got on a bus he'd never ridden before and rode it to a part of the city he'd never been to. He didn't want anyone to find him. They'd try to make things okay, and he'd feel bad because they'd try so hard but still fail to convince him to return to the table. Far better to avoid the conversation altogether for as long as possible.

He walked for a while past mom and pop grocery markets filled with fruit and flowers and the smell of fresh bread; past little cafés where the diners sat out on brick patios distinguished tastefully from the sidewalk by tall potted plants. The diners chattered and laughed. People passed him walking their dogs. Every woman was pregnant or holding a toddler; every man was carrying a baby in a snuggly and looked ready to hike the Appalachian Trail, and all the kids were wearing whatever the heck they wanted to, no matter how silly or gender-inappropriate. He must be in the neighborhood where every graduate student and newly minted associate professor in the city lived, composted, drum-circled and exchanged organic recipes.

Justin liked it. A lot. He could picture himself and the twins walking through the park full of swing sets and parent-approved climbing structures. He'd pull them in a little red wagon pointing out dogs and birds and airplanes. They'd laugh and clap their little hands. They'd be wearing knit hats made to look like foxes or pumpkins or raccoons and brightly-colored matching fleece jackets. Daddy! they'd say. Push us on the swings! The people passing were all people he knew, and some stopped to talk about dogs and babies and the newest exhibit at the neighborhood's local gallery. They'd get the twins giggling with silly faces and let them pat their shelter-rescue dogs. Everything would be safe and geared toward raising the smartest, happiest, most creative, well-adjusted and empathetic children in the world. The food would be organic, there'd be lots of mom & me yoga classes, every toddler would be learning a second language, and there'd be daily children's book readings and puppet shows at the library.

He didn't need the aid of a crystal ball. He could see his twins as clearly as he could see his hand in front of his face on a sunny day. Brown-haired and rosy-cheeked with eyes, depending on Justin's mood, either hazel or blue. They were curious, happy, smiling, loving children always eager to interact with the world around them. They adored him and he adored them back. They made him prouder than any masterpiece of art ever could. He spent every free minute of the day with them, sharing in their wonder at things he'd grown to ignore or take for granted. He'd often carry both of them on his hips, always eliciting spontaneous, kind comments wherever he went. People would smile and coo, and his little ones would laugh or hide their faces shyly in his hair. They'd smell of organic beeswax soap, sunlight and sugar even if they hadn't eaten any. It was just who they were - sweet and lovely. Everyone always remarked on their beauty, and he would beam. No compliment was ever too great for his babies. They'd read books together and sing silly songs and draw with chalk on the sidewalk in front of the laptop-free coffee shop. They were his everything, his little miracles, the pride and joy of his life!

Then he'd think about their other daddy, but while the twins were vivid in his imagination, Brian was just a colorless ghost hovering in the background. Justin couldn't picture him living in a child-friendly neighborhood or building castles in a sandbox or jumping in rain puddles. He couldn't picture Brian doing anything at all with the twins - not one single solitary thing. He may as well not even exist. All he brought to their lives was money - never joy, never whimsy . . . never even fun.

Why on God's green earth would Brian even want children? They'd just be an irritation and a burden. They'd be noisy and messy and needy - all things that Brian hated. Brian couldn't even deal with a pet let alone two babies!

Maybe, at the end of the day, it would be better for all of them if Brian gave him, Justin, full custody. Brian would support the twins financially, but he'd never be able to support them emotionally. He'd probably be relieved when Justin suggested they not live together. It was the perfect solution, and everyone would be happy - and no one would be angry and bitter and resentful.

And Ethan had been right - well, sort of. When they'd met, Justin really had wanted to leave Brian; he really had said that his feelings for Brian had changed and that he didn't think he loved Brian anymore. He really was looking for a way out of a relationship he'd come to believe was toxic and dangerously dysfunctional. Day by day, Brian had whittled away Justin's self-confidence, his pride in himself and his accomplishments. Brian mocked him at every opportunity and treated his dreams like doormats to wipe the shit off his shoes on. Even though he knew it hurt him, Brian kept right on tricking, often in their bed! Often right under Justin's very nose! For Brian, love was a dirty word that he would never say nor even let himself feel.

So, yes, much of what Brian had overheard at the gallery was correct. The only thing that was a lie was that he and Ethan had "made love." That'd been an out and out lie, but ironically, Justin knew that Brian didn't give a shit about the sex. What'd punched him in the face was the realization that he'd been on the verge of being dumped, that his precious pride was on the edge of being punctured, that he was going to lose the pathetic game he and Justin had been playing since they first met. That was what hurt him - not the loss, but the repercussions of being left. Of being perceived by anyone in any realm of life as a failure.

And the break-up had been imminent. The fact that Brian had shown up in Vermont hadn't changed the fact that Justin wanted to leave him, it'd just changed the timetable . . . but only temporarily.

They'd returned from Vermont to Pittsburgh around three o'clock on Sunday morning. Sunday night they'd gone to Babylon, and Brian took two guys to the backroom. On Monday afternoon, they'd been tested for HIV, and that night, Justin came home from classes to find Brian fucking some guy in their bed. They fought about it, and Justin had slept on the couch. On Tuesday, they went to Woody's and Brian left within an hour to go to the baths. He didn't return until the "magic" three o'clock in the morning at which time they fought again. Justin knew what he was doing; Brian was "making up" for having "followed" Justin to Vermont. He wanted to make sure that Justin understood that their time together didn't mean shit in the long run. On Wednesday, Brian took a client to dinner and then bragged when he came home about having fucked the waiter. On Thursday, they went to Babylon and had a foursome with a couple of guys they'd picked up, and then, after it was over, Brian went to the fucking, Goddamn baths again! The behavior itself wasn't new, just its intensity and the complete absence of discretion. Brian wanted Justin to know everything he was doing. That was an essential ingredient in the "Humiliating Justin" soup.

And then Friday came along with the news that Brian was pregnant. It was nothing but one little word, but it changed everything in a fraction of a fraction of an instant. But what exactly had changed? Brian's behavior (at least for nine months), thank God, but had it changed Brian's feelings? Despite carrying their babies, Brian still hadn't told Justin that he loved him. And, alternatively, had learning that Brian was pregnant changed Justin's feelings? The only thing that had changed in Justin's life - utterly and forever - was the knowledge that he was going to be a father. Everything else ceased to really matter. It became all about those wondrous twins who he'd been able to picture from the moment they were conceived. He knew in that moment that he'd never truly loved before because the love he felt for the babies exceeded any love he'd ever known or even imagined.

Did he decide to stay with Brian because of Brian or because of Brian and the twins . . . or just because of the twins?

The honest answer literally made him sick to his stomach.

It was why Brian's words at the gallery had destroyed him. Brian had banished him from the babies. Justin knew deep in his heart of hearts that being separated from the twins would be the death of him. Brian hadn't just stabbed Justin in the heart; he'd sliced open his chest and ripped it out.

That night, he stayed with Daphne. In the morning, he called Mel.

"I . . . I don't know what to say," Mel said.

They were in Daphne's apartment. When Justin had called to say he needed to talk to her as soon as possible, she'd come over immediately.

"I know I probably shouldn't be talking to you, and you probably shouldn't be talking to me," he said, "but I need to know what options I have before I actually hire a lawyer."

"If there is a custody battle, more often than not it's the mother who wins full custody," she said.

"But why" he asked. "It doesn't seem fair."

Mel shrugged. Clearly his questions were awakening the feminist in her.

"Usually, because of cultural stereotypes as well as empirical evidence, it's the mother who is viewed as the more invested and competent parent until the father can prove otherwise."

"In other words, a father has to wait until the baby is actually born," Justin said, more to himself than to Mel. "But Brian's not a woman," he exclaimed. "That must change the picture a bit!"

"It's very hard to say how a court would treat this very unusual situation. Any presumption might just get tossed out the window, although I still think a court would take into consideration that Brian is carrying the babies - I can see the court thinking that that creates a stronger bond between him and the twins than between you and the twins."

"But that's bullshit," he said. "Brian never even wanted children! It was me who's always wanted them. I can even imagine Brian not wanting to be involved with raising them - just like he doesn't want to be involved with raising Gus."

"And thank God for that," Mel muttered. "I'd let Gus play with knives before I'd let Brian have anything more to do with him than he already does." She shuddered. "Do you remember that time he dumped Gus on you so he could go to a stupid leather S&M-thingie at Babylon? Jesus fucking Christ! The man is a fucking menace when it comes to kids."

"Exactly," Justin said, his voice urgent. He needed her to understand where he was coming from. "This isn't about not liking Brian or even judging his lifestyle; it's about the best interest of the twins. Who will take better care of them? Me or him. The answer's obvious."

Mel nodded. "It is indeed. I'm certainly not going to argue that point with you, but Justin . . ." She sighed. "Look, I know what it's like to have troubles in a relationship. Lindsay and I have had more than our fair share - and knowing us, we'll have even more in the future. Will it ever come to a custody battle? I don't know, but I sure as hell hope not. There's nothing worse than dragging your lives and the lives of your children into court and siccing lawyers on one another. Don't you think you can just work this out with Brian informally, just the two of you? You're right about him - he really doesn't want to be saddled with a kid, let alone two. I have to admit that I'm stunned that he decided to keep them and not have an abortion. And I was even more amazed that he went cold turkey like he did, but deciding not to abort a child is not the same as loving it and taking the best care of it that you can. I mean, hell, look at Brian himself. His mom didn't abort him, but she also didn't love him. So the fact that he's keeping the twins - at least so far, I'm still not betting that he won't get rid of them at some point in the future, especially when he really starts to show - means little to nothing."

Justin covered his face and groaned. He hadn't even thought that an abortion was still a possibility after Brian had made the decision not to get one . . .

"Have you considered the possibility he might get one out of spit? Brian has been known to do shit like that."

"Which is why we have to settle the custody issue now!" Justin cried. "God, if he kills the babies because the two of us got in a fight, I could never forgive him . . . nor myself."

Mel reached out and pulled his hands away from his face. "You asked for my advice," she said. "My advice is that you and Brian sit down as soon as possible and talk about these issues. Today if possible."

Justin nodded. "Do you know where he is?"

"Not at my place, thank God. In the end, he wanted to go back to the loft."

Justin was relieved. The fewer people involved in all of this the better.

"I'm assuming our conversation is confidential," he said.

"You're assumption is correct," she replied. "But, Justin (and I can't believe I'm even saying this), don't be too harsh on Brian. He's going through a lot. I may never have been pregnant, but I watched my wife be. It can be rough."

Justin nodded and then gave her a hug. "Thank you," he said. "I'll let you know how things turn out."

When he arrived at the loft, Justin decided to ring the buzzer rather than use his key and just walk in.

Brian answered with a leaden, weary voice. "Who is this?"

"Me," Justin replied. "Can I come up?"

"That's why stairs and elevators were invented," Brian replied.

The door was open when Justin stepped out of the elevator, but Brian was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. He didn't turn to look at Justin when he walked through the door.

"Hey," Justin said.

Brian didn't respond.

Justin closed the door harder than he needed to.

"So, you're not planning to talk to me," he said. "That's mature."

Brian shrugged. "I don't have anything to say," he replied.

"Well, I sure as hell do," Justin said. His tone was acerbic. It must've surprised Brian because he turned to look at him.

"Now I have your attention," Justin snipped. "Well, it's a good thing . . ."

Brian glared at him. "I can see you're riding that high horse of yours again. You're so good at that. It's pretty priceless that you're angry at me after all the things you said . . . after all the things you apparently did."

"Oh no, you don't," Justin said shaking his head. "You don't get to be the victim. What you said is unforgivable."

Brian studied him for a long time with an inscrutable expression. "So, don't forgive me," he said with a shrug. "What does that change?"

Justin wanted to strangle him.

"Everything," he replied. "It changes everything."

Brian arched an eyebrow in an invitation for Justin to continue. Why not throw the hand grenade, Justin thought. It seemed like as good a time as any.

"I want to split up, and I want full custody of the babies. I'll hire a lawyer and take you to court if I have to."

Brian's jaw dropped. Justin had never seen him lose his composure so completely.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"You heard me," Justin replied. "Pregnancy may have turned you into a bigger asshole than you already were, but it hasn't made you deaf."

Brian's answering laugh was unpleasant - very unpleasant. "You want custody," he said, his voice sounding disbelieving. "Full custody. Over my dead and decomposing corpse will I ever give you custody. You walk out that door, Sunshine, and you forfeit your right to my babies!"

Brian's voice sounded even and calm, but Justin could tell he was shaking.

Shit! He'd fucked this up royally. He hadn't intended to get in a fight with Brian - in fact he'd intended just the opposite. He'd wanted them to sit down and hash out a reasonable, mutually beneficial arrangement. But now Brian's hackles were up - and probably not just because he was angry; he was probably terrified at the thought of losing the twins. For the first time, Justin considered the possibility that this conversation should be occurring after the babies were born, after Brian was no longer pregnant and being all mother-bear about things. Once the hormones wore off, Justin felt certain that Brian would lose interest in the babies and happily hand them over.

As if reading his thoughts, Brian said, "You just poked the bear. It was a very very bad idea."

Justin sighed and closed his eyes for a second. "I'm sorry I poked you," he said, trying to sound placating. "It's just that what you said yesterday evening got me thinking . . ."

"About what?" Brian snarled. "Bring it on."

"Well, I went for a walk in some neighborhood somewhere - I think it was near the University of Pittsburgh, but I don't know. Anyway, there were couples with kids and dogs and babies everywhere, and everyone seemed really nice. There were all sorts of things for kids - an awesome park with a playground and lots of kid-friendly restaurants. Everywhere I looked I saw myself and the twins doing all kinds of fun things together . . . but you, Brian, I couldn't picture you at all. I'm not trying to be mean; I'm just stating a fact. You would hate it there. It's totally geared toward healthy living and raising children . . . it's about community . . ."

Brian made a very realistic sounding gag.

"See?" Justin said. "You're just proving my point. You hate everything that place stands for. You'd hate all the people who live there. There's no way you'd be caught dead playing in the playground with your kids or planting vegetables with them in the community garden. Brian, pleaseunderstand! I'm not judging you; I'm just stating a fact. Would you ever dress up for Halloween and take the kids trick-or-treating? Would you ever take the twins to a neighborhood street fair and get your face painted along with them? Would you ever make snowmen and have a snowball fight? Would you ever take the babies to mommy and baby swim time? Would you take them to the public library for a puppet show? Could you set aside your own prejudices long enough to feed them organic baby food and take them to mom & me yoga classes and play pirates in the yard? For that matter, could you bear to even have a yard? Brian, look into your heart. You know I'm right. You won't want these things, but I do. I want them more than anything I've ever wanted. I'll be the best father in the world to the twins . . . and it's not like you couldn't see them or be involved in their lives! I'd never take them completely away from you; it could be like what you have with Lindsay and Gus. Think about it; you'd have the best of both worlds. You'd be able to keep living the way you want to live but also be able to play with your children once and awhile . . . remember when you told me that one of the reasons you can have fun with Gus is because when he gets fussy you can give him back to Lindsay? If we lived together, that's not going to be an option. You'll be in the thick of things. Your life would change utterly and in every way. You'd hate it. And you'd resent the babies. Can't you see how wrong that would be for everyone? Please, Brian, put away your anger at me and think of the twins."

When he'd finally got everything out and put it on the table, Justin stood panting and trembling with tears in his eyes. If Brian needed him to beg on his knees, he would.

Even though his mouth was still open, Brian didn't say a word. Not one word. His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts, nor did his expressive eyes. He looked like he'd been hit by a stun ray. His face was so drained of color that even his lips were pale. Justin waited with bated breath for him to speak.

"You're right," he said very quietly. "After I've performed my role of incubator and milk dispenser, it's over except for writing the occasional check."

"Oh, for Christ sake," Justin snapped. "Don't twist my words."

Brian shook his head. There was a vague, heavy look in his eyes.

"I'm not trying to twist your words. I'm just stating a fact. You just don't like the images I'm using. They're not sugar-coated to make them easier for you to swallow."

"Listen," Justin said. "I'll stay with you through the duration of the pregnancy, but after that, I think it would be best if we lived apart. Brian, you simply cannot live like you have been and raise a family at the same time. You stated a fact; now I'm stating another."

Brian blinked at him just as he had the day before in the gallery. There was a kicked-puppy quality to it, which made it very unnerving.

"I'm not angry," Justin said gently. "I'm not judging you. I'm just trying to find a way to make this work for all of us. Brian, tell me the truth: have you ever even thought about any of this? I know you want to have the babies, but do you want to raise them? Seriously, Brian, answer me truthfully."

Brian held his eyes; he didn't even blink this time.

"No," he said.

Justin nodded. He came over to where Brian sat and took his hand. "You need to," he said softly.

Brian took a deep breath and then released it slowly. "What about us?" he asked. "Have you thought about that?"

Justin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what about us," Brian said again but this time adding a gesture that signaled he was talking about the two of them. "You say we should live apart. Does that mean we won't fuck anymore?"

It was Justin's turn to gape and stare. What??? Jesus fucking Christ! Brian was un-fucking-believable!

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

"I'm NOT kidding," Brian yelled at him so forcibly that Justin backed away from him. "Why the fuck would I be kidding?!"

"Because I'm talking about the welfare of our children, and you're thinking about your dick!"

Brian was off the barstool and on the other side of the room in a nanosecond.

"I am NOT thinking about my dick!" he shouted. "I'm thinking about fucking . . . !"

"Oh don't you worry about that," Justin sneered. "You'll have all the time and space in the world to fuck your brains out. That's what I'm trying to say, Brian! Since fucking is so important to you, give me our kids!"

Brian grabbed a squillion-dollar vase off the table and hurled it at the wall.

"Are you fucking stupid? Or are you being deliberately obtuse to provoke me?" he yelled. "Fucking is important because I want it to be with you . . . I want to touch you and kiss you, and, yes, I want to fuck you! Can't you see what I'm saying? I want you in my life in a way that lets me fuck you! Jesus Christ, Justin, can't you hear what I'm saying? I'm saying I fucking love you! Why the fuck haven't you been able to figure that out? I want to fuck you again and again and again . . . for the rest of my fucking life if I can! Fine, take the twins! You've done an excellent job of convincing me I'll be a shitty father. I'll buy you a house anywhere you want to live! I'll make your and their dreams come true to the best of my ability and beyond! You and the twins will never lack anything. I will love all three of you always and unconditionally. You and the kids will be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I'll think of before I go to sleep! But, Justin, I want . . . no I need to keep being able to fuck you! And have you fuck me! And to spend an occasional night together - that's what grandmothers are for, right? Taking the kids for a few hours every now and then so their parents can have some alone time together? I want to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you. I believe you that you'll be a better parent, but why does that mean I have to let you go too? I don't fucking get that, Justin! Is our relationship so impossibly fucked up that you don't want it anymore - that you don't want me anymore? Do you see me as bad a lover and partner as you see me as a father? Have you written me off?"

Brian turned away when his voice broke and covered his eyes with one hand and his belly with the other. His shoulders sagged. Justin supposed that if he set out to break Brian's heart, he'd achieved his goal. But he hadn't. In fact he'd set out to do the exact opposite . . .

"I didn't say anything I said because I want to hurt you," he said. "I said it so I could set you free."

"What . . . what if I don't want to be free?" Brian said. He was on the edge of crying if he wasn't already.

Justin was silent. Brian hadn't considered what being a father would be like, and he, Justin, hadn't considered the possibility that Brian would still want him. And he'd certainly never taken into account the possibility that Brian might love him!

"I don't know," he said gently, but honestly. "I need to think about it."

Brian nodded. They were quiet for a while.

"You know," Brian said, his voice scratchy with tears. "If you had left me for that . . . violin kid. If you had said you were leaving, I would've begged you to stay."

Justin snorted but it wasn't rueful. "But would you have begged me with words?" he asked. "So that there was no ambiguity?"

Brian sighed his own little laugh, but his was rueful. "Probably not," he said. "I probably would've pulled back the duvet when you came to bed or something like that. I'd try to make you see that I wanted you beside me."

Justin went to him and put his arms around his chest and rested his head against his back. "It wouldn't have been enough," he said. "It wouldn't even have come close."