I wake up smiling, for the first time in ages. I yawn loudly and stretch, rolling over onto my back. The ache in my ass makes me smile even wider. I look to my left to see an empty space where Brian should be. I lean up on the bed to glance around the room – nothing. I get up and pull one of the white sheets along with me, wrapping it around my body. A piece of folded paper falls to the floor. I immediately notice my name written in Brian’s scribble on the front. I bend down to pick it up, open it, and read the note inside.

‘Second door on the left.’ That’s all that’s written. I drop the note to the bed and walk out of the room into the hallway. The second door on the left is closed, so I reach down to open it. This sounds an awful lot like a surprise. Brian doesn’t do surprises or gifts. I wonder what this is about.


I swing the door open, take two step inside, and my jaw drops at what I see. A large window shines the morning light into the room at a perfect angle. I look around to see a few easels, paint brushes, pencils, charcoal, sketch paper, blank canvases – it’s a studio. A studio for me.


“Like it?” I jump at his voice. I turn to see Brian leaning up against the door frame, half in the room and half in the hallway, wearing nothing but jeans.


I laugh, incredulous. “Yeah, I like it. Brian, this is amazing,” I boast. I walk further into the room and run my finger over the wooden edge of one of the easels. My fingers itch to paint something – anything.


Brian shrugs. “Well, I made one of the rooms into an office for me, so I figured you should get a room of your own, too.”


I scoff. Leave it to Brian to brush off something this incredible. I find myself standing in front of the window, looking down over the in-ground pool in the backyard. I sigh softly. I feel Brian come up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist. I lean into his warm embrace. “This can’t all be real,” I tell him.


He laughs. “It’s real alright. This cost me a fucking fortune,” I can hear the smile in his voice. He knows I don’t only mean the house or the studio, but also us, last night. I sigh again, deeper this time. “What is it?” he asks, his breath warm against my ear.


I shake my head. “I just wish – that I could’ve been here to –,” I stammer.


He doesn’t let me finish. “Shut up,” he demands softly. “No apologies, no regrets.”


I snort and shake my head. “If you only knew,” I tell him. This could’ve been my life – our life, together. I never really knew until now what I gave up living in New York. I close my eyes and try to picture what my life would be like now if I’d never left – or if I would’ve come back sooner and not abandoned everything I ever knew for my career; most likely the same career I’d have if I’d never left. What I see is incredible – beautiful. My eyes start to tear up, but I blink hard to hold it back. I let out a shaky breath and his arms tighten around me.


“You’re here now, right?” he asks. I turn around in his arms and nod. I lean up and catch his mouth in a light kiss, then bury my face against his chest. Yeah, I’m here now.


_______________

We shower together, an act I missed more than I realized, and return to the bedroom to throw on the clothes we had on last night.


“Where’s Gus?” Brian asks while he pulls on his shirt.


I struggle to get my snug jeans over my still-damp legs. “He’s at the loft,” I tell him. “He said he’d be fine alone.” I finally get the pants over my hips and button them.


“Does he know where we are?” he asks, looking at me strangely.


It suddenly dawns on me. “Oh shit!” I exclaim, quickly pulling my shirt over my head. I rush for the door, “My phone is in the car. He’s probably freaking out.” I hear Brian laugh as I reach the stairs. Once out the door and in my car, I grab my phone from where I abandoned it in the driver’s seat and flip it open. 16 missed calls. Shit. I don’t bother listening to the seven voicemails once I see all the calls are from the loft. I call Gus and he picks up on the first ring.


“What the fuck, dude? Where the hell are you? Did you find Dad? Is he okay?” he rushes out loudly into my ear.


“Yeah, he’s okay. We’re at the house in West Virginia. Sorry I didn’t call you. I left my phone in the car,” I apologize earnestly.


He sighs loudly. “Jesus fucking Christ. You guys scared the shit out of me,” he says. I nearly laugh at how much he sounded like Debbie just then. “When are you coming home?”


I look up to see Brian walking out of the house and locking the door behind him. “We’re on our way now,” I tell him as Brian comes toward me and stops short, just in front of the car.


“Oh, ok,” I hear Gus say. “See you soon then.”


We hang up and I meet Brian’s eyes. “So was he freaking out?” he asks with a playful glimmer in his eye.


I huff a laugh. “Yeah, something like that.”


Brian nods and gestures toward the Corvette. “You going back to the loft or --?”


“Yeah. I mean – if that’s okay with you,” I tell him.


He nods again. “You can follow me, then.”


The ride home was short. I park behind Brian in front of the loft and we walk up together. I reach over and grab his hand. When he looks at me, I smile widely and he gives me his signature smirk and intertwines his fingers with mine. When we reach the last flight of stairs, we see Gus standing at the top, in the doorway of the loft, arms crossed in front of his chest, tapping his foot dramatically. He opens his mouth -- most likely to yell at me for not calling, or Brian for disappearing, or both of us for staying gone all night -- but when he sees our hands, his body language changes. His mouth snaps shut, his arms drop, and his foot stops moving.


“What happened last night?” he asks curiously as we reach the top of the stairs, his eyes jumping between Brian and myself.


I glance at Brian for the answer, but he just clears his throat and releases my hand so he can walk past Gus into the loft. “I have a doctor’s appointment at eleven. I’m going to take a shower,” he says as he walks toward the bathroom.


“You took one before we left,” I remind him as Gus and I follow him in and close the door behind us.


“Yeah, well I’m going to take another one,” he calls out as he shuts the door. Asshole.  My eyes cut to Gus, still looking at me expectantly.


“Did you guys fuck?” he asks. Just then, the phone rings. I sigh, relieved – saved by the bell. Gus walks over and picks it up on the second ring. “Hello?” he says into the receiver. “Oh, hey … You know he’s not going to take the phone if he knows it’s you, right?” he says with a sigh. There’s a pause, and then he glances at me again. “Oh – uh, yeah, he’s here. Hold on.” He hands the phone to me, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “It’s for you.”

I take the phone, half expecting it to be Michael and half not knowing who the hell it could be. “Hello?”


There’s a hesitation. “Hey. This is Kevin – you know, from the other night,” I hear the familiar voice come across the line.


“Oh. Yeah,” is all I say. What the hell?


He clears his throat. “Listen, I was wondering if we could meet up. I want to talk to you about something.”


“Uh. I guess,” I stammer. “I mean – sure, yeah, I can do that. When?”


“How’s now? I can meet you outside the loft in less than ten minutes,” he replies.


I glance toward the bathroom door. “Maybe we should meet somewhere else,” I suggest, not knowing how Brian would feel about me going somewhere to talk to his ex.


He sighs. “Yeah. Ok, well how about – I don’t know, Woody’s?” he asks.


“That’s fine,” I tell him.


“Great. I’ll see you in a few,” he says.


“Ok. Bye,” I hang up the phone without waiting for a response. I turn around to see Gus staring at me.


“What the hell was that about?” he asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. He wants to meet me at Woody’s. He says he wants to talk to me about something,” I explain.


Gus shakes his head. “Weird,” he mumbles.


“Yeah,” I agree.


“What’s weird?” Brian’s voice sounds from the top of the stairs to the bedroom. I didn’t even hear the bathroom door open. His hair is dry and he’s wearing the same clothes. So much for the shower, dick.


“Nothing,” Gus blurts out. I glance at him questioningly and he shakes his head once, just enough so I could see it.


I look back at Brian. “Nothing,” I repeat. “I’m going to go – to my mom’s house for awhile. You know, just to visit or whatever,” I tell him. I’m not totally sure why I’m lying about this, but I decide to take Gus’ word for it. I’ll tell him about it later – after I know what’s going on. To be honest, I’m sort of relieved to get out of telling Gus about what happened between me and his dad.


Brian looks at me like he doesn’t believe me, but doesn’t comment on it. “Okay,” he answers with a shrug.


I make it to Woody’s in ten minutes. It’s still early, so the bar is nearly empty. I glance around, seeing no sign of Kevin. I take a seat at a table near the bar to wait. Less than a minute passes before I hear the door open and look up to see him walk in; dark sunglasses, worn jeans, and a leather jacket. Just Brian’s type – tall, dark, and handsome – and the complete opposite of me.


He spots me quickly and removes his glasses, approaching the table with a tight, but polite, smile. “Justin, I presume.”


I nod. “Yeah. How do you know my name?” I ask. I know I didn’t introduce myself to him the other night. I wonder if he asked Brian who I was or something.


He laughs as if the answer to my question is obvious. “I lived with Brian for almost four years. Of course, I know who Justin Taylor is. Thanks for meeting me so quickly,” he says as he sits on the stool across from me.


“No problem,” I shrug. I look at him warily. My guess is that he’s going to tell me to back off and leave Brian alone. Or maybe he’ll chastise me for hurting Brian the way I did. Either way, I’m extremely curious as to what he wanted to meet me here for.


“Want a drink?” he offers, gesturing to the bar.


I shake my head. “No thanks.”


He nods and looks down at the table. He looks a bit uncomfortable and I’m not sure why. “So – how’s Brian?” he asks.


I briefly wonder if Brian would want me telling Kevin any details about – well, about anything really. I decide on keeping things simple. “Brian is – good; he’s good,” I finally say.


“He won’t talk to me,” he says, looking so unbelievably sad that I almost feel bad for him. I shake it off. Kevin is no concern of mine; Brian is.

“Yeah, I noticed,” I reply.


“I asked you here because I need a favor,” he tells me, his eyes meeting mine.


I sigh. “If you’re going to tell me to stay away from Brian, don’t waste your breath,” I say. “I’m sorry about what happened between the two of you, but it has nothing to do with me. I’m not going anywhere.”


He smiles slightly. “That’s where you’re wrong. It has a lot to do with you,” he tells me. I narrow my eyes at him. So now it’s my fault that he flaked out on Brian and fucked up their relationship? What a crock of shit. Before I can call him on his bullshit, he starts again. “But you’re right, it’s not your problem. And that’s not what I was going to ask you.”


“What then?” I ask, becoming impatient.


He looks at me closely for a moment before continuing. “As I said, he won’t talk to me. He won’t answer my calls or my emails. You saw what happened when I showed up at the loft. He’s completely pushed me away. I can’t blame him, after what I did. But – I just – I don’t know,” he shakes his head. His facial expression is troubled.


I know what it’s like to be pushed away by Brian, and I definitely know what it’s like to deserve to be pushed away. While I can easily empathize with the handsome man sitting across from me, I can’t help but feel some animosity towards him as well. I have no right to be angry with him, of course. In all honesty, the reason Brian didn’t let him come back probably did have something to do with me. I’m not sure exactly what that might have been at the time, but I’m definitely standing in the way now.


“Ask me,” I tell him gently.


His eyes are glassy and he suddenly looks really tired. “Do you think you could, you know, keep me updated? Let me know how he’s doing once in awhile. Just so – just so I know, I guess,” he pauses. “You don’t have to give me your phone number, and I promise not to call and bother you all the time. Maybe if you could take my number, and – I don’t know, call whenever you want to,” he suggests.


He wants me to call him and let him know how Brian is doing? “What for?” I ask. “From what Brian tells me, you wanted to get away from him; and that what he’s going through scares you and you don’t think you can handle it,” I point out.

He shakes his head. “It scares me, even more, to be away from him. That’s what I can’t handle,” he says, his voice breaking at the end. “I’m going crazy. I understand if he doesn’t want to be with me, but he won’t even talk to me.”


“Maybe it’s because he’s – I don’t know, protecting himself from getting hurt again, or – I don’t know,” I try. I can’t come up with any reasons that would make him feel any better. I know he’s hurting and miserable, that’d be obvious to anyone right now, but what could I possibly say?


He huffs a laugh. “No, that’s not the reason. I know what the reason is,” he tells me.


“What is it?” I ask him and hold my breath, waiting for the answer.


“He finally got what he wanted – or more accurately, who he wanted,” he sighs, resigned.


“I’m sorry,” I tell him.


He shrugs. “Don’t be. I envy you. Besides, you can’t make someone love you, right?” he asks.


The question is rhetorical, I know, but I answer anyway. “No, I guess you can’t,” I say simply. I quickly make a decision. “I can call you. You know, to let you know what’s going on -- if he’s okay.”


“Thank you,” he breathes, looking genuinely grateful. We sit there looking at each other for a few moments before he speaks again. “One more thing,” he says.


Here it comes. “What’s that?” I ask.


He breaks eye contact with me and looks toward the back of the room at nothing in particular. “Just – be good to him,” he says, his voice quiet. “Take care of him. He needs you, you know. Even if he won’t admit it, he does, and don’t let him tell you otherwise.”


My mouth is suddenly dry. I don’t respond to his request right away, and I’m not sure if he’s even expecting a response. This guy obviously cares for Brian – loves him, even. I’m sure they’ve been through a lot together in the past four years. And who knows? If I hadn’t been here, they would’ve probably been back together by now. I’m the one standing between them, and yet instead of being angry and telling me to back the fuck off or that I’d already had my chance, he’s asking me to take care of his ex-lover who he still wants so badly to be with. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for him to sit across from me and ask that.


And maybe it’d be better if they were together. Not better for me, of course, but better for Brian. With Kevin, they’d never have to worry about a condom breaking or the possibility of infecting someone. They know what each other is going through and if anyone can relate to Brian, it would be someone in a similar situation. It scared Kevin that Brian was sick – maybe because he was afraid of being sick, too, one day, or maybe because he was just scared of losing Brian – but now he wants to be there for him, to take care of him. I wonder how Brian really feels about him. Could there still be something there, something that I’m fucking up by being here?


I can’t talk to Brian about it. He told me he didn’t have feelings like that for Kevin, but who knows if that’s actually the truth or not? Brian isn’t a liar, but he’s also not the most open person about how he feels; not until last night, anyway. Last night. I sigh; there’s no way I’m backing down now. I just can’t. Brian said he wanted me here, so that’s where I’ll be. Jesus – I can’t even think straight right now.


His voice interrupts my thoughts. “He told me about you, you know,” he says, still looking anywhere but my face. “He made you sound so – perfect. You could do no wrong in his eyes,” he sighs. “I knew that if you ever came back if you ever asked him to take you back, he wouldn’t think twice about it – regardless of me.”


“He cared about you,” I assure him. “He still does. How could he not? You were together for four years; you even lived together. There’s no way he doesn’t still care for you.” It’s the truth. Even if Brian doesn’t feel for him the way he feels for Brian, there had to be something there. And if there was, it’s probably still there.


He shakes his head. “Not like he cares for you. You were the only person he ever really let himself love – and the only person he’ll ever let himself love. I know that now,” he tells me. He shifts in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable again. He lets out a shaky breath. “I have to go,” he says abruptly and stands up from his seat. “Thanks again for meeting with me.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. “Here’s my number. Call me anytime. Thank you for doing this, Justin –“ he trails off as he turns and rushes out of Woody’s before I can say another word.


“No problem,” I say to absolutely no one. I glance down at the card: Kevin Ward, Landscape Architect. I stare at it for a moment before placing it into my back pocket. I leave Woody’s, but I don’t head straight back to the loft. I drive around for a couple of hours, or maybe a few hours, just thinking about what just happened.


When I finally make it back to the loft, it’s already dark outside. I walk in quietly, only to see Gus and Brian lounging on the sofa watching a movie – laughing hysterically.


“It’s not illegal, it’s frowned upon – like masturbating on an airplane.”


“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, too.”

“Yeah, maybe after 9/11 when everyone got so sensitive. Thanks a lot, Bin Laden.”


Another round of laughter starts and I smile at the image of Brian and his son bonding.


“This is the best movie ever,” Gus says as he grabs a handful of popcorn from a bowl in his lap and shoves it into his mouth.


I closed the door behind me, finally making my presence known. They both turn to look at me. “Hey,” I greet them.


“Hey,” Gus replies. “Come watch this with us. It’s fucking hilarious.” Brian slaps Gus’ chest with the back of his hand – another warning about the language.


I walk toward them and Brian scoots closer to Gus on the sofa so I can sit next to him. I take a seat and glance at the screen. “What is this?” I ask.


“The Hangover. It’s amazing,” Gus tells me. I laugh at his enthusiastic response. He returns his attention back to the screen and I glance at Brian. He raises an eyebrow at me and leans back against the cushions. He rests his arm on the back of the sofa, so I take the opportunity to press against his side as I settle into my seat.


Gus was right. The movie was pretty fucking hilarious. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen Brian laugh that much, and it was like music to my ears. I still have a lot going through my head right now, but I put it off for tonight. As I lay in his arms, ready to go to sleep, I think about what Kevin said earlier. ‘The only one he’ll ever let himself, love’. I eventually drift to sleep, thanking God – or whoever – for just that.