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‘You’ve reached Brian Kinney. Leave a message.’


Shit. I’ve been calling Brian’s cell for the past hour while driving around Pittsburgh searching my mind for where he might be; it just keeps going straight to voicemail. I drive by the cemetery where Deb and Vic are buried, I drive by Michael and Ben’s house – though I wonder if they even still live there --, and I even drive into Liberty Avenue. I know there’s nothing here for Brian right now, but I’m running out of possibilities. I’m amazed when I see how much of this street has changed. Woody’s is still there, but the roads aren’t filled with flamboyant young men and drag queens any longer. In fact, there’s hardly anyone out tonight.


When I start looking around, I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. Poppers, Boy Toy, the Gravel Pitt, the Adonis – they’re all gone. Replaced with small shopping centers and clothing outlets. As I drive a bit further, I’m more relieved than I thought to see the Liberty Diner still standing. I glance through the glass windows, though, and see something totally foreign to me. The walls aren’t as colorful as they used to be, no advertisements hanging for the next Absolute Abs contest at Woody’s; just a few people sitting inside eating quietly. I don’t recognize any of them – not even the waiters. I hurriedly drive away, trying to clear my head. As I leave Liberty Avenue, I pass by Babylon – or, at least, what used to be Babylon. I gasp when I see no sign of what was once here – Babylon has been turned into a Target. A fucking Target. I’m surprised Brian didn’t die of a stroke as soon as he heard that news. Then I remember that Babylon belonged to Brian and that he’s the one that probably sold it to the company that runs Target. I sigh heavily, wishing I’d never driven down here tonight.


That familiar street light still stands, though. I fight the urge to get out of the car and stand under it in the hopes that I can travel back to that time when everything was good and right – nothing like now. Instead, I haul ass out of there. I can’t believe how much has changed since I’ve been gone. It’s like it’s not even Pittsburgh anymore – and it sure as hell isn’t Liberty Avenue. I silently wonder what the hell happened. How did all the sprites and fairies allow their home – their playground – to be torn down and destroyed like that? I can’t imagine all of that happening without a hell of a fight.


I’m not sure how long I’ve been driving, my mind racing at the speed of light, becoming more and more worried by the second. I’m almost surprised when I see the sign on the side of the highway. I don’t even remember how I ended up here, but it’s the only other place I can think of.


‘Welcome to West Virginia’


I remember Brian telling me the house was only thirty minutes from Pittsburgh. I’ll have to remember to tell him he’s wrong. Tonight it took me exactly 21 minutes to get here from the Pitts. I’m shocked that I didn’t get pulled over by the police, but I don’t have time to count my blessings just yet. He’s got to be here – where else would he have gone? I pull into the driveway – still not sure how I even remembered how to get here after so long – and relief floods my body as I see the Corvette parked there. I pull in behind Brian’s car, cut off the engine, and jump out of my rental. I glance into the ‘Vette, making sure it’s empty. It is, so I run up the front steps to the door. I almost knock, but I don’t. Instead, I reach down to the door knob and twist – it’s unlocked. I slowly open the door and walk inside.


I enter the living room and automatically gasp in surprise. I’d only seen this house once, and it was beautiful and extravagant then, but now – it’s breathtaking. The room is furnished with what I can only guess to be extremely expensive Italian furniture. The hardwood floors look like they’ve been redone, and even the walls are a different color. There’s even a flat screen TV at the far side of the room. It looks like the rooms you see photographed in those home magazines my mom always used to buy and admire. I swallow hard and turn to walk into the kitchen.


I stall suddenly when I see Brian sitting at the dining room table that definitely was not there before, looking at me. The room is dark, but a light from outside allows me to make out his face. I take a moment to glance around at the stainless steel refrigerator and top of the line stove and beautiful marble countertops that must’ve all been redone since the last time I was here. It’s almost like someone has been living here this whole time. I finally look back at Brian, who hasn’t made a sound since I walked in, and walk into the room to sit at the table across from him. He averts his eyes downward and sighs.


His silence is scaring the hell out of me, so I decided to speak first. “Wow,” I whisper, gesturing at the space around me. “This place is – incredible. When did all of this happen?”


When he answers, the sound of his voice surprises me and I jump a little. I almost didn’t expect him to respond. “It started about a week after you left. It was done in a month.”


I huff a laugh. Only Brian Kinney can get an entire house completely renovated and furnished in a month’s time. Then I realize what that means. We were still talking when this was being done. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask him.


He shrugs. “It was a surprise – for when you came home,” he says simply. I sigh heavily and squeeze my eyes shut. He did all of this for me, for when I came home, and I never did. “I would’ve married you, you know,” he says suddenly.


I nod. “I know,” I answer.


He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you do,” he says. There’s no anger in his voice, no sadness – nothing. He’s void of emotions. “I didn’t ask you to marry me because I thought it was what you wanted. It was what I wanted. I didn’t change just to make you happy. I changed because – because it was time for me to grow up. I wanted everything – all of it – with you.”


My chest tightens and tears threaten to fall from my eyes as I listen to him talk.


He sighs and shakes his head with a small humorless laugh. “I kept thinking you’d come back. For a long time – I expected you to call or visit. Every birthday, every holiday. It took a long time for me to accept that it wasn’t going to happen,” he pauses for a moment. “I’ll also admit that it took a long time for me to get over you. I did some really stupid shit just trying to forget. I never could forget, though. Hell, maybe I never really got over you either. But I did give up the thought of you ever coming back. I had accepted the fact that I’d probably never see you again.” His eyes meet mine. “And then you show up –“


“Yeah,” I choke out and look down at the table in front of me. I’m baffled by the fact that Brian is telling me all of this. I guess they’re right when they say the looming threat of death really does something to you.


We sit in silence for a few moments. “I did see you once,” he recalls, his voice so soft I can barely hear him, even in the silent house.


My head shoots up to meet his eyes again. What I see there scares the hell out of me. He looks – haunted, that’s the only word I can think of to describe it. His eyes are dark and he looks tired. Not physically tired, but emotionally drained, to say the least. “What?” I ask, shocked at his confession. “W-when?”


He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. Years ago – at a show in New York City. It was a couple of months before I found out I was positive. Your mom told me about it,” I shake my head in disbelief. How could she have not told me --. “No one knows I went; they thought I was away on business,” he says as if reading my thoughts. “I just – I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to see you again. I had no intention of speaking to you or letting you know I was there.” I hold my breath and wait for him to continue. I search my head for what show he’s referring to, but I can’t seem to think straight. Brian was in New York, in the same room as I was, and I didn’t know it. “You seemed – happy,” he continues with a small grin. “You were smiling, undoubtedly selling pieces like crazy. That’s all I needed to know – that you were happy. I wasn’t even there an hour before I left. I drove home that night, and that’s when I decided it was time to let go. You’d moved on with your life and it was time for me to move on with mine,” he finishes.


A few silent tears fall down my face. I fight hard to keep myself under control, but inside I’m breaking down. Brian waited for me for five years. I never had the decency to call him or visit or even let him know I was okay. “Brian, I’m sorry –“ I start.


“Don’t,” he cuts me off. “Don’t be sorry. I wanted you to be happy. I always wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. I was never angry, or resentful. Did it hurt? Yeah, it did – it killed me. But I never blamed you for anything,” he tells me, leaning forward. “I get it, Justin. I really do understand why you did it.”


“And why is that?” I ask. If I can’t remember a good reason why I did it, how the hell did he come up with one?


“You’re better off without me. I’m not good for you – good enough for you. I never was,” he says, shaking his head.


I shake my head vigorously, “Brian, no, that’s not –“


He doesn’t let me argue. “Yes, it is. You wanted something bigger, something better. So you went and made something of yourself in the way you wanted to, and no one should hold that against you. I wasn’t good enough in the beginning and, even after I changed, I still wasn’t good enough. You deserved so much better than me – and you still do, now more than ever. I just don’t get what you’re still doing here.”


He says it like it’s a fact, like something he accepted a long time ago. I don’t know much about Brian’s childhood, but I know enough to realize that his parents had a big impact on how he feels about himself. In fact, I blamed them for a long time for how fucked up he was. He grew up teaching himself to hide his feelings and build walls to keep people out – to keep from being hurt, from loving and being loved. “You know, for someone that’s notorious for being so arrogant, you sure do have some self-worth issues,” I tell him.


He laughs, and this time it’s real. “I don’t have self-worth issues. It’s just reality.”


I shake my head. “You always were the realistic type,” I mutter. “But the only thing is that it’s really the furthest thing from the truth.” He raises an eyebrow, humoring me. “The truth is that -- I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen years old. I went through hell and back trying to change you before finally accepting you for who you were. Then I went through hell and back, yet again, because I knew that regardless of the things you said – all of your bullshit philosophies – I just couldn’t stop loving you. Trust me, Brian, I’ve tried to stop loving you,” I huff a laugh. “Don’t you think that if it was true that you’re – inferior to me, or not good enough – don’t you think I would’ve been able to just leave you and never look back?”


He shrugs. “I thought that’s what you did,” he tells me.


I nod slightly. I know what he thought. It was what I tried to convince myself of for ten years of my life – ten years I’ll never get back no matter how much I want them. “Yeah, I know,” I breathe. “But I didn’t. It took me a long time to realize what a huge mistake I made, but I never stopped loving you – ever. I love you,” I nearly yell and he laughs and shakes his head, most likely thinking I’m crazy, and honestly I feel that way right now. “I love you because you’re difficult and stubborn, and ruthless, and a pain in the ass. I love you because you’re deep and amazing, and brave, and so incredibly and beautifully fucked up. I love you because you’re you – Brian Kinney. I don’t want anyone else. I’m here because I want to be with you for as long as I possibly can – as long as you’ll have me,” I finish with a sigh.


The silence that comes between us seems to last for hours, though I know it’s only minutes. I try to read his face, but I can’t make out his expression. My chest seems to be tightening more and more by the second, waiting for his response to what I just blurted out. I wonder if he’s going to tell me to leave or tell me he doesn’t feel that way about me anymore.


Finally, he stands up from his chair. “Come here. I want to show you something,” he says and starts walking toward the living room again. I stand up and follow him through the living room and up the stairs. We don’t speak the entire time, but my curiosity has definitely gotten the best of me. We walk down a hallway at the top of the stairs to a room at the very end. I didn’t come upstairs when I saw the house the first time, so everything here is new to me.


He opens the door and walks into the room, with me following closely behind. I look at my surroundings and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. There’s a large bed in the middle of the room adorned with sleek white sheets, pillows with black pillow cases, and a beautiful black duvet that looks almost like silk. I silently wonder what it feels like. On the other side of the room are two black dressers and a smaller black nightstand by the bed. The floor is covered in plush white carpet and the walls reveal a few select pieces of art – my art. I walk further into the room to look closely at the pieces. I recognize them all; one was from shortly after I left Pittsburgh, one a couple years later, the next a couple years after that. The last one shocks me the most, though. I stare at the sketch of a twenty-nine year of Brian sleeping naked in the bed at the loft – my first show.


I turn to see Brian still standing in the doorway, watching me. “You bought it,” I whisper, but it’s not a question.


Brian answers anyway. “I bought it,” he confirms. He clears his throat and looks uncomfortable for a moment. “And – no other guys have been here with me. Not even Kevin, so—“


I nod. “This is amazing,” I tell him. “Why don’t you and Gus live here?”


He huffs a laugh. “It’s yours,” he shrugs.


I shake my head. “It’s definitely not mine. I didn’t pay for it, or remodel it, or furnish it –“


“Are you saying you don’t want it? Because I’ll take it back,” he says with a grin.


I laugh. “No. I mean – it’s ours,” I answer tentatively.


He shrugs. “It was,” he nearly whispers.


I take a deep breath and walk up to him, our bodies mere inches apart. I reach out slowly, hesitantly touching his side. I don’t want to push him, but I need to be close to him after all of this. He surprises me by leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. It takes me about one second to respond and I close the distance so my torso is pressed against his. I rise up on my toes to deepen the kiss and wrap my hand around the back of his neck. His lips are soft and warm and feel incredible against mine. We kiss, slowly at first, just enjoying feeling each other again. I reach down, grab the front of his shirt, and pull him further into the room. He walks with me, our lips never breaking contact until the backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed.


We stop and he pulls away from the kiss. He looks at me for a few seconds and I’m scared he’s going to reject me again. I silently plead with my eyes for him to just go with it – let it happen. He takes in a slow breath. “Are you sure?” he asks.


My eyes widen and I laugh once. “Fuck yeah,” I tell him.


He gives me a small grin and shakes his head. Then he places his hand flat against my chest and pushes me down so I’m sitting on the bed. My heart is pounding so hard I can practically hear it in my ears. I feel my body shaking in anticipation. I pull him back down to resume our kissing, much more passionate this time. His tongue traces my lips lightly, silently requesting entrance – I immediately grant that request.


We kiss like that, me sitting on the edge of the bed and him leaving over it, for a few minutes before we break apart again so he can lift my shirt over my head. I reach up to do the same to him, running my hands down his once again gorgeous chest and stomach. Our eyes meet for a split second before we come together again, kissing desperately and deeply. I scoot back so I’m lying flat on the bed with him hovering over me. He lowers slightly and starts placing light, moist kisses against my neck. I moan a little, running my hands up his back and into his hair, pressing his face closer to my skin. He continues kissing down my torso, stopping to lick and tease each nipple, causing me to arch into him at the sensation. My breathing starts to become heavier as he leaves a trail of kisses down my abdomen.


He unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down over my hips and legs until they finally end up on the floor next to the bed. He’s back in a second, kissing and licking and biting gently at my hip bone. I feel my cock twitch in response. I reach down to push my underwear out of the way, impatient. He huffs a laugh and swats my hands away so he can pull them off himself – with his teeth. “Oh God,” I groan at the erotic sight. He discards the underwear near my jeans on the floor and returns to continue his earlier activities.


He kisses my inner thighs, starting just above the knees and working his way up. I feel his warm breath on my dick and suddenly, I’m panting. I lift my hips, somewhat unconsciously, but he grabs them and pushes them back down onto the bed roughly. Finally, I feel the tip of his tongue make its way from the base of my cock all the way to the tip, leaving a wet trail that is immediately cooled by the surrounding air. I moan deep in my throat. He closes his lips around the tip and runs his tongue over it in slow, methodic circles. He teases for a moment before finally taking all of me into his mouth. I gasp when I feel the back of his throat, and he swallows around my dick. My head is thrashing from side to side against the pillow now, panting desperately.


I reach down and pull him up roughly by his shoulders and pull his lips to mine again. I wrap my legs around his waist and feel my hard cock press against his through the material of his jeans. I reach between us to unbutton said jeans and slide them over his slim hips. He’s not wearing underwear, of course, and my body shivers in anticipation. I need to feel his skin against mine – now. My request is granted as he covers my naked body with his and I feel his stiff cock pressing against mine, this time with no barrier between us. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, increasing the friction, while we continue our assaults on each other’s mouths.


I flip us over so I’m on top and I trail wet kisses over his chest and ribcage. Before I get too far, though, he grabs me by the arms and flips us back over so he’s hovering over me. I know what he’s doing, but I don’t comment on it. I refuse to break the spell this time. He reaches over to the nightstand, opens the drawer, and pulls out a condom. He rips it open with his teeth and spits out the top of the wrapper like he always used to do, and I smile up at him. He looks back with a tongue-in-cheek smirk and I grab the condom away from him. I reach down and roll the lubricated condom over his cock like I’ve done so many times before. His breath catches in his throat when I reach the base of his dick and squeeze.


I reach to grab his hand and bring two of his fingers to my mouth. I suck on them as if it’s his dick, getting them wet, our eyes never breaking contact. His normally hazel eyes are now darkened with lust, as I’m sure mine are. I finally let off of his fingers with a soft ‘pop’ and he moves down in between my legs. My eyes close again as I feel the tip of his middle finger circling my hole. He gently pushes in and I moan. He fucks me with his finger for a few seconds before adding the second finger. The familiar stretch and burn causes me to gasp, and then groan suddenly as his fingers brush against my prostate. When I finally can’t take it anymore, I reach down to remove his fingers from my ass and grab his condom covered dick, trying to guide it to my entrance. I can’t wait anymore, I need him now.


He huffs a laugh and knocks my hand away again as if saying ‘cut it out, I know what I’m doing’. Don’t I know it. I lift my legs higher and he presses the tip of his dick to my hole. He hesitates for a moment, so I look up to meet his eyes. I nod in encouragement and he finally begins to push in. The pleasure coursing through my body as he begins to slowly thrust is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I desperately grab at his back, his arms, whatever I can reach, bringing him closer and closer to me. I can’t get enough of him; his body, his scent, his taste. We’re face to face, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, lips brushing up against one another’s, but not quite kissing. I lean up to bring his plump bottom lip into my mouth and suck and bite gently. He responds with a deep kiss once I release him. He’s leaning on his elbows on either side of me and his hands are in my hair, tugging because he knows I love it when he does that.


He’s brushing against my prostate every other stroke and I feel that familiar tingling at the base of my cock. “Close,” I whisper to him urgently. He quickens his pace and reaches between us to jerk me off in time with his thrusts and my fingernails dig into his back. My back arches as I feel my orgasm taking over my body and I’m pretty sure I scream out his name in ecstasy. He thrusts twice more before groaning his release, burying his face in my neck.


We’re both panting and trying to catch our breath as he pulls out, ties off the condom, throws it into a trashcan near the bed. I groan and shiver at the loss. He drops down onto his back beside me.


“Jesus,” I breathe out. “Wow.” I know, how very articulate of me. He just laughs in response. I turn my head to look at him. His hair is messed up and sticking up in all different directions, his lips are swollen and red from our kissing, he’s breathing heavily, and sweat is glistening over his chest. I turn and lean up so I’m facing him. “Let’s do it again,” I say excitedly.


He laughs again. “Forty-three, remember?” he says and then winces. “Christ, I never thought I’d make it this far.”


I scoot closer so I can lay my head on his damp chest and run my fingers lightly up and down his right side. I sigh, content. “I’m glad you did,” I tell him. I know his age has little to do with why we can’t do it again right away. His body is still weak from the disease and the treatments, but he doesn’t mention that. If he was healthy, I’m sure Brian would be fucking three or four times a night at the age of sixty with no problem. I almost chuckle at the thought. He runs his hands up and down my back and I close my eyes at the sensation.


Again, I listen to the steady beat of his heart under my head and slowly drift into a deep sleep – truly happy for the first time in over ten years.

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