Daphne was home. Thank you, God! But she wasn't alone.

"Hey," Ethan Gold said when Justin walked through the door.

Justin froze, his mouth open and his brain (which was already seriously compromised) petrified.

"Struck wordless," Ethan said. "How sweet."

Daphne looked at Justin and rolled her eyes.

"Uhm," Justin said. "What's going on?" He hadn't moved to close the door behind him or take off his parka.

"You tell me," Daphne said. Was that anger in her voice? "This guy . . ."

"Ethan," said Ethan.

Daphne didn't even turn to look at him. ". . . showed up about an hour ago wanting to ‘talk about you.'"

"Huh?" Justin said. "Who? What?"

"Oh my God," Daphne said. "Are you deaf or stoned or both? Shut the door. Take off your jacket, and have a glass of wine . . ."

"Can't," Justin mumbled. "Baby."

"I am not your ‘baby,'" Daphne said. "Maybe you're his though." She nodded at Ethan where he was ensconced in her favorite ratty armchair. "But, silly me, I thought you already had a boyfriend. At least you did when I saw you on your birthday. Granted that was three weeks ago, and a lot can change in twenty-one days, but last I knew you were head-over-heels for Brian."

"That's when we met," Ethan said. "On his birthday. Justin's friends took him to a recital I was playing. I gave him a CD." He turned his attention to Justin. "Have you had a chance to listen to it again?"

Justin just stared at him. Birthday? Recital? CD? Once upon a time those words must've made sense to him; at least he recognized the sounds, but he sure as fuck couldn't understand them.

Daphne came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Justin turned his head to look at her. His expression must've been alarming because she grabbed his arm and led him, stumbling, to her futon.

"Justin," she said. "Seriously. What's going on? You're really freaking me out right now."

Justin blinked at her. He turned to Ethan and blinked at him too. They were both staring at him.

"Your little beard thing is weird," he told Ethan. "It looks like you were eating something furry and got some of it on your face by accident."

Ethan reflexively covered his chin and frowned. "Are you on drugs?" he asked. "And if you are, can I have some?"

"No drugs," Justin said. "Baby."

"Now you're calling him ‘baby'?" Daphne said. "Jus, stop kidding around. I'll call your mom."

"Do you want a cigarette?" Ethan asked. "I find smoking takes the edge off my nerves when I have to play for an audience."

"No cigarettes," Justin said. "Baby."

Ethan winked at him. "Okay, baby," he said meaningfully.

"If you two are going to have sex, could you please do it somewhere else?" Daphne said irritably. "My roommate's due back any second."

"Hey, that sounds like a good idea," Ethan said. "Not necessarily the sex part, I mean I know you're with some guy, but we could go hang out at my place."

Justin suddenly came to life. It felt like having a needle full of Epinephrine stabbed in his heart, forcing it to beat again. He leapt up from the futon as though a wasp had stung him in the ass.

Some guy?

Some guy?

The same "some guy" who was returning home as they spoke from what was probably a stressful day. The same "some guy" who'd encounter Dr. Bernstein sitting on his couch where he'd expected to see Justin. The same "some guy" who was probably champing at the bit to go to Woody's to hang out with the boys and get shitfaced. The same "some guy" who was no doubt fantasizing about fucking his brains out in the backroom of Babylon and then fucking Justin when they got home. The same "some guy" who'd be dancing, taking E and drinking Red Bull to stay awake until dawn.

The same "some guy" who was pregnant with their baby!

The same "some guy" who was, at that very moment, being told the most momentous, potentially catastrophic news a man could possibly receive. What was going on right now? Had the seriousness of the situation sunk in yet? How about the health implications? The lifestyle implications? The sanity implications? Was Brian in shock? Raging at the universe? Imagining countless gruesome ways to kill him and countless ways to dispose of the body? . .

. . . Or worst of all. What if Brian simply disbelieved the news, and there was nothing his doctor could say or do to make him believe it?

"He's not ‘some guy,'" Justin said with eerie calm. "His name is Brian."

Ethan shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. "Cool," he said. "Look, we can go to my place and just listen to music or something." He stood up and approached Justin. "I know you like me," he continued. "I saw it in your eyes that day you stopped by the practice room while I was playing. You told me you listened to my CD six times. I'm not saying we have to be lovers right away or anything, but we owe it to each other and ourselves to at least explore the possibility."

The whole time Ethan was walking toward him, Justin was backing up until he was stopped by the wall. Suddenly he felt trapped; the sensation was inexplicably terrifying. He placed his hands on Ethan's chest and gave him a shove.

"I can't deal with this right now," he said wildly. "I cannot even begin to tell you how trivial everything you're saying sounds! CD? I don't even know what you're talking about?"

Daphne cleared her throat. "Not that I want to get involved in this . . . whatever it is, but I do recall you raving ecstatically about some CD some guy had given you."

Justin blinked at her. He knew it wasn't fair, but right at that moment, he felt like Daphne was betraying him in some way for reasons he couldn't understand. Why was Ethan even there at all? Had someone already explained things? Had it just gone in one of his ears and out the other?

"Why are you here?" he asked, more perplexed that angry. "How'd you even know I was going to be here?"

Ethan smiled a bashful smile that Justin supposed might've been endearing under drastically different circumstances.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he replied. "You're all I see day and night. I just . . . I guess I just needed to talk to someone about you. I knew you were friends with Daphne . . ."

"You did?" Daphne said. "That's news to me."

Ethan blushed a deep red. "I followed the two of you the other day. I didn't set out to do it. I'm not some stalker. It's just that I saw you two walking and decided to see where you were going. You came here, so I figured this was Daphne's apartment. It seemed too-studenty for some thirty-year-old guy."

"His name is Brian," Justin said.

Ethan sighed. "I know. I heard you the first time."

Justin looked at Daphne, who merely shrugged helplessly. He looked back at Ethan and felt a sudden bone-deep jolt of anger.

"And what, pray tell, did you learn about me . . . ?"

"Nothing important," Daphne interrupted, obviously aware that something seriously weird was going on.

Justin ignored her, and kept his eyes glued to Ethan's.

"Did you learn my astrological sign? Did you learn what my favorite brand of cereal is? Did you ask about my parents? My sister? My friends? Did you inquire after my favorite color? What about my favorite animal? Or fruit? Or car? Or did you try to pick my best friend's brain about my relationship? Something tells me you couldn't give a shit about what books I read or T.V. shows I watch. You wanted to know about me and Brian. Well, let me tell you myself so you don't have to harass Daph. Brian is more than my boyfriend. He's even more than my soul mate. He's the father of my child!"

Silence. A long, drawn-out, loaded, weird, awkward silence.

"Justin," Daphne said. "Sit down." She took his hand and led him back to the futon. He sat down in a trance, and she sat down beside him. He wanted so badly to be able to talk to her, but he couldn't tell her about Brian and the whole pregnancy thing. He'd already crossed the line far enough. Brian would never forgive him if he found out Justin had told other people about what was going on.

"Are you saying that you and Brian are going to adopt a baby?" Daphne said. "But I thought he hates kids?"

"He does," Justin said, despair suddenly cresting in his heart like a wave. It was true. Brian did hate kids. He'd said so again for the millionth time when they were in Vermont. The news that he's pregnant was going to be more than catastrophic - it could even be deadly! He remembered Michael telling him once about how Brian had talked about jumping off the roof of the hospital and ending it all the night Gus was born.

He had to get home. Fuck Brian if he didn't want him there. He had no choice. Justin would handcuff himself to something immovable and swallow the key.

He jumped up again. "I have to go home," he said. "I can't just sit here talking about inconsequential bullshit! I have to be with Brian! He needs me!"

Daphne tried to grab his sleeve, but he was already halfway out the door.

"Justin, I'm scared," she said. "You're scaring me so much right now. Please stay. I'll kick him out." She nodded in Ethan's direction. "I don't want you to leave like this. Are you having a bad trip or something? Should I call a doctor?"

Justin groaned. Doctors. No more doctors. He took a deep breath, and tried his best to calm down. He even gave her a smile. He had to get his shit in a pile!

"You don't need to take me to the hospital," he said gently, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "Yeah, okay, I took some LSD . . . or something, I don't know. But the point is I'm fine. I'll even leave my bike here and take a cab back to Brian's. Don't worry, okay?"

She merely nodded. "Call me when you get back," she said and kissed his cheek.

Justin turned to go down the stairs when Ethan pushed past Daphne and grabbed his arm.

"Don't leave like this," he said imploringly. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. This is a thoughtless invasion of your privacy. If I could go back in time and stop myself, I wouldn't be here right now. I've had a bit too much wine. Please don't hold it against me - against us. I . . . I think I might be in love with you!"

In love?? Ethan didn't even know him! Justin looked at him - at his deep, soulful eyes so earnest and beseeching, his playfully tangled dark hair, and all he could think was "What the hell was I thinking?" He'd actually toyed with the thought of leaving Brian for another man? Had he been fucking crazy??

He turned to face Ethan and looked down at Ethan's hand, which was still gripping his arm. Ethan yanked it back as though Justin's gaze was a lash of fire.

"I'm leaving," Justin said. "And so are you. I'm sorry if I've done anything to lead you on, but you must understand one simple fact. I am never going to leave Brian, so forget about me. Go find someone who's not in a relationship - or who's in a relationship he doesn't give a shit about."

Without waiting for Ethan's response, Justin ran down the stairs and out into the freedom of a cold, dark night.

He had no idea what he'd encounter when he entered the loft, so he knew he had to be prepared for anything. Would Brian be crying? Would he be hammered? Would he yell and scream and throw things? Would he be violent? Justin had no clue, but whatever it was, he was ready to do whatever had to be done - no matter what it was. He took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and slid it open . . .

. . . for a moment, Justin couldn't see him. Had he gone out? Christ, he should've checked if the Jeep was there before coming upstairs! Where could he be? Was he okay? Was he alive?

Then Justin saw him. He was lying on the couch with headphones on listening to his CD player. Justin approached him slowly. His eyes were closed and he was moving his bare feet in time with whatever it was he was listening to. Justin didn't want to startle him. God knows how he'd react . . .

. . . Suddenly Brian opened his eyes. When he saw Justin standing there, he gave him a big, saucy grin. His Friday night grin. His I've-already-had-a-few-beers grin.

"Hey," he said, pulling off his headphones. "Where the hell were you? I was about to go to Woody's without you. Hurry up and get in some clothes that won't cause me to be embarrassed in your presence."

Justin stared at him. What the motherfucking fuck? Had the doctor left before Brian came home? Had the doctor told him everything he'd told Justin?

Brian frowned. "What's up?" he asked.

What's up?

"I'm sorry," Justin said very slowly. "But did you just ask me ‘what's up?'"

Brian sat up. "Yeah, I did," he replied. "And I'm still waiting for an answer."

"Did . . . didn't you talk . . . wasn't Dr. Bernstein here when you got home?"

Brian started laughing. "Oh, that," he said. "So he talked to you too? So much for fucking HIPAA. Good thing it was nothing serious or I'd sue his ass."

"Nothing serious?" Justin said. For some reason, he thought he might start crying.

Brian stood. "Oh for the love of Christ," he said. "Do you mean to tell me you believe all that shit? C'mon, Sunshine, I thought you were smarter than that."

"But . . . but . . ."

"No more ‘but buts.' The only butt I care about is yours, and it better get to the bedroom now so you can get dressed, and we can get the fuck out of here. It's Friday night, for fuck sake!"

Tears filled Justin's eyes and ran down his cheeks. He didn't even try to wipe them away.

"Oh Christ," Brian said. "Really? Is this actually going to happen? Do I actually have to talk to you about this? Seriously? Yeah, you're young, but you're not retarded. At least I hadn't thought so until now."

His voice sounded annoyed, but Brian reached for him anyway and pulled him in for a hug. Justin knew Brian couldn't bear to see him cry.

"Brian," he said, his voice muffled in Brian's shirt. "Can we at least pretend it's true? Just until we talk to some other doctors? Please?"

Brian pushed Justin away so he could look in his eyes, but his hands remained on Justin's shoulders.

"It's bullshit," Brain said. His voice sounded dead serious. "It's inexplicable, ridiculous bullshit. I don't know what's going on in Bernstein's head, but whatever it is, I'm not going to let it freak you out . . . or keep me from drinking all the booze I can hold, smoking a field's worth of pot and dropping as much E as I can and still stay standing up. You're lucky I'm not ballistic. I should kick your ass out and get a restraining order for letting Bernstein in here while I wasn't home, and then just taking off somewhere."

Justin swallowed. He'd worried that Brian would hate him, but this was infinitely worse.

Brian dropped his hands and walked over to the kitchen island where he proceeded to pour himself a glass of Beam and empty it with one swallow.

Then he poured another.

What was Justin going to do? Was he going to tag along to Woody's and Babylon and try to water down Brian's drinks all night? Even if he wanted to, he didn't think he could bear to watch Brian kill their baby for nothing more than a brief fucking buzz. He'd cry. He knew he would. It would tear him to shreds.

"I'm not going," he said, crossing his arms. Brian looked at him and shrugged.

"Fine. Whatever. Don't wait up for me."

He went to the bedroom to put on some shoes.

"Please, Brian!" Justin cried after him. "Please! I'm begging you!"

Brian didn't respond, but when he came downstairs, he fixed Justin with a glacial stare.

"This is it," he said with loaded calm. "You've said what you think you needed to say. I listened, but I am not going to stay here sipping warm milk and reading 'Your Pregnancy Day-by-Day' books. It's simply not going to happen, Justin. Deal with it. I'm going out, and I'm going to do what I do every Friday night. I'm going to have a good time - whatever I choose that to mean. If I want to do coke, I'll do coke. If I want to drink till I puke, I'm going to drink till I puke. You're pulling a fucking Mikey on me, and that's something I never thought you would do. Now do what you want. I'm leaving."

And he did.