“So I need to make my decision,” he tells me. I’m lying in my queen size bed in the hotel room with my phone to my ear. I’ve been in town a little over a week and Brian and I have been talking on the phone nightly before we go to bed. I silently wonder where he’s at in the loft; sitting on the couch, standing in the kitchen, lying in bed like me. I wish I could be there with him.


“What decision?” I asked lazily, starting to become very tired.


He sighs, more to himself than because of me. “About treatment,” comes the simple reply. “I go to the doctor tomorrow; he wants a decision.”


All of a sudden, I’m more awake. “Oh,” I say and hesitate. We haven’t spoken about this subject since that first day and I’ve managed to keep my mouth shut ever since. I figured he just didn’t want to talk about it, or didn’t want to talk to me about it. We’re quiet for a few long, agonizing moments. I finally speak again, “So what are you thinking?”


“What do you think I should do?” he voice is quiet.


Isn’t that obvious? “I think you should do treatment,” I tell him. He laughs. “What is so funny about that?”


“Nothing is funny about it,” he says honestly. “You’re just so convinced that that’s what I should do. You don’t even know what my chances are.”


Chances. It sounds like the end of the road to me. “Do you know what they are?” I ask him.


He hesitates. “I asked Daphne what she thought,” he starts. “She said that with treatment I could have as little as six months or as much as five or ten years.” He laughs, “That’s quite a broad range.”


“Yeah, it is. What about without treatment?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the answer.


“Probably not even six months,” he tells me.


I shut my eyes tightly. “Then isn’t treatment the best option? Don’t you want the chance to be around for longer than that?” I ask the last part hesitantly. I don’t know if I’m ready to hear that answer either.


“Well, yeah,” he tells me and I sigh in relief. “For Gus,” he continues, “I don’t want him to have to deal with losing someone at sixteen. He’s gone through enough.” We fall into a long silence again. “He’s the only reason, though. I really don’t have anything else here for me.”


What he just said saddened me more than his potential decision to not undergo treatment. “What about me?” I ask in almost a whisper.


He laughs again, not nearly as heartily as last time. “What about you, Sunshine?” he asks. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be going back to New York soon anyway, won’t you? Back to your life. This isn’t who you are anymore. You’re just a visitor now.” His voice isn’t genuine; he almost sounds sad, but I don’t call him on it.


“I was actually thinking about moving back,” I tell him.


“Why?” he asks like he really wants to know.


“I can do my art from here. I’ve already laid a foundation; I don’t need to be in New York to make a living. I miss my family, my friends – I want to get to know Gus better,” I explain. “And – I don’t want to leave you.”


He snorts. “Don’t include me in that decision. I may not be here long enough for that.”


“Don’t say that,” I tell him seriously.


“It’s the truth.”


I shake my head even though he’s not here to see it. “It doesn’t have to be. Like you said, you could be around for a few years if you do treatment.”


He sighs. “Yeah – could be.” I know the conversation is over even before he speaks again. “I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.”


“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promise.


“Okay. Make it after noon. I’ll let you know what I decided then. Night,” he tells me.


I close my eyes again. “Night,” I whisper to him right before I hear him hang up. I end the call and close my phone. I should probably get up and take a shower before I go to sleep, but instead, I find myself just lying here staring at the ceiling for awhile.


I probably won’t get any sleep after that conversation with Brian. I think back on the last week. I’ve seen him every day. I stop by the loft and we talk and bullshit for hours until it’s time for me to leave. He’s working from home – I’m assuming so no one else has to know he’s sick – so he’s at the loft every day now. He still hasn’t let me touch him, though, and it gets harder and harder not to by the day. It’s so great being with him, though. We talk and laugh and catch up; it’s almost like old times – almost. Gus and I have been much more civil to each other as well. I can tell he’s still wary about my presence, but he’s more comfortable with me being alone with Brian while he’s at school now.


I really hope Brian decides to do treatment. I can’t imagine Brian Kinney, of all people, just giving up and dying without a fight. I know he was fighting this fucking disease long before me, and I know he’s tired, but he can’t just give up. I honestly don’t know what I’d do if he decides to just let this KS kill him. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought before I start crying alone in my hotel room; how pathetic.


I need someone to talk to about this. I grab my phone and dial the number. I wait three rings before the call is picked up. “Hello?”


“Hey Daph, it’s Justin. Want to do breakfast tomorrow?”


____________________


“So you kept in touch with him the whole time?” I asked. Daphne and I met up at a small diner close to the hotel. She asked if I wanted to go to the Liberty Diner, but I didn’t think I could be there without Debbie. It wouldn’t feel right. Also, I didn’t want to run into anyone I wasn’t ready to talk to yet.


She nods. “Yeah. I used to drop by and we’d smoke together at least once a week,” she laughs. “It’s been fun. You know how much I loved Brian, even back when you were around.”


When I was around. “Yeah, I guess,” I tell her, my eyes averted to the table in front of me.


“What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding concerned.


“Nothing,” I tell her.


She sighs. She knows what I want. Daphne and I were always like that. I didn’t even have to tell her, she just knew. “I was at the office when he got diagnosed with HIV,” she starts. I look up at her and she stares back with knowing eyes. I lean onto the table, all ears. “He didn’t tell me, but I took the unethical route and looked at his chart. I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I just had to know. That night I showed up at the loft and he kind of spilled his guts about what happened. He played it off well enough, but I could tell he was devastated by the diagnosis.”


Hold on a second. “Wait, you know how it happened? Like – exactly?” I ask.


“Yeah – he didn’t tell you?” she asks incredulously. I shake my head. “Well I’m sure he will,” she said doubtfully.


I shake my head again. “No, I don’t think so. He doesn’t trust me anymore,” I tell her, defeated.


She raises her eyebrows. “Well –“


“I know, I can’t blame him,” I sigh. “Gus told me he’s still waiting for me to up and leave again.”


“That sounds about right,” she says as the waitress brings our breakfast to us.


“He won’t let me near him, Daph,” I say quietly as the server walks away.


“What do you mean?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.


“I haven’t touched him since I’ve been back. Whenever I get to close he moves away. I just don’t get it,” I complain.


She shrugs it off. “He’s scared, Justin. Maybe he thinks if you touch him – I don’t know. Brian always was pretty complex.”


I shake my head. “Not to me. I always knew what he was thinking. I knew Brian better than I knew myself. But now – he’s like a stranger sometimes. He’s still Brian, but he’s – different.”


“You’d be different too,” she tells me.


“I know, I know,” I stare at my uneaten food. Suddenly, I’m no longer hungry.


She’s quiet for a minute, contemplating. “Can I ask you something?” I nod. “Do you still love him?” Leave it to Daphne to get right to the point.


I look up at her. I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah – I do,” I confess.


She nods knowingly. “Then just give it some time. He’ll come around.” She reaches over and puts her hand over mine.


“That’s what Gus said – I guess I’m just being impatient,” I grab my fork and start stabbing at my food, still with no intention of eating it.


“The fact that he asked you what you thought about his treatment options says a lot. He’s divulging a lot to you, just not everything yet. It’ll be okay,” she tries to convince me.


I sigh. “How was he when I left?” I ask suddenly. I need to know.


I can tell she doesn’t want to answer me, but she tries to brush it off. “He was – fine,” she hesitates.


I’m not buying it. “Daph, come on. Tell me.”


She shrugs. “I don’t know. He wasn’t a fall down mess or anything at first. At least, he didn’t let anyone see if he was. But then he wouldn’t I guess,” she pauses. “He just seemed – sad, I don’t know. Wouldn’t you be sad?”


I nod. “I was,” I tell her.


Another hesitation. “Why did you do it?”


I put my fork down. “Honestly, right now I have no idea. I guess I thought it would be best if he wasn’t waiting around for me –“


She cuts me off. “He would’ve spent his whole life waiting for you. Hell, maybe he has,” she says and shakes her head. I can tell she’s disappointed in my answer. I know it’s not good enough.


I put my head in my hands. “God, I feel like shit.”


“Listen, Justin, we all do shitty things. We all hurt the people we love. The hard part is moving on and doing something about it. No one’s perfect, you just have to try,” she tells me.


“I am trying,” I insist.


“I know,” she says. “He loves you. He never stopped. He’s just not letting himself do anything about it.”


I look back up at her. “You really think he still loves me?” I ask, hopeful.


She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think he does, I know he does.”


Her confidence makes me feel marginally better, but my stomach is still in knots. “He’s being so nice to me. I don’t deserve it. The only one that seems mad at me so far is Gus – why can’t he just yell at me, tell me what a shit I am for leaving him –“


“Did you really expect that?” she asks me.


I shake my head. “I didn’t expect anything. I wasn’t even planning on seeing him until I saw Gus and he told me about Brian,” I confess. “I mean, you don’t even seem mad at me. I don’t get it.”


She laughs. “Oh, I was pissed for a long time, believe me,” she says. “It’s just – I mean, after ten years, you can’t be mad anymore. What’s done is done. He accepted it -- we all did. None of us thought you’d ever come back. But you did – and I guess he couldn’t be mad at you. I think –“ she stops.


“Tell me,” I insist.


She shakes her head. “I think he just wanted to see you one more time before –“


I put my hand up. “Okay, don’t tell me,” I stop her before she can continue. I don’t want to hear what she was going to say – I’m pretty sure I know anyways.


She gives me a sad smile. “Look, Gus and I are both pretty loyal to Brian,” I nod. “But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you. We were friends for a long time, Justin. I still consider you my friend, so I’ll help you if I can. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here; I don’t think you’ll hurt him. I’m going to trust you not to.”


“Thanks, Daphne. I really appreciate it. And – I’m sorry about what I did,” I tell her.


She shrugs. “Like I said, what’s done is done. But we have a lot of catching up to do,” she smiles again, this time less sad. I smile back slightly. I’m glad I got my best friend back.


____________________


Brian’s call comes at 11:58. I hate to admit it, but I was holding the phone in my hand waiting for the clock to hit noon so I could call. “Come over,” he commands. I automatically grab my keys and head for the loft.


I’m so nervous I’m practically shaking. I wonder what he’s going to tell me. I’m silently praying he’s going to tell me he’s going through with treatment, but I can’t help the awful feeling in my stomach telling me he may not. What if he’s inviting me over to tell me he decided against it? Maybe he thought it was best if he told me in person instead of over the phone.


I park in front of his building and run up the stairs. The door is already open when I reach the top. I walk inside, “Brian?” I call out.


He comes down the stairs that lead to the bedroom. “Hey,” he greets me.


“Hey,” I reply, a bit out of breath from running. “How’d your appointment go?”


He shrugs. “You want to sit?” he asks, gesturing to the living room.


Oh God, no. This doesn’t sound good. My heart is beating fast and I feel like I’m going to puke, but I head over to the sofa with him. We’re sitting about a foot from each other and all I can do is stare, waiting for the news. I still don’t know if I can handle hearing this.


He takes a deep breath. “My doctor says he doesn’t think my body is strong enough to handle chemotherapy right now. He said radiation is an option, but there’s only a 50/50 chance it’ll do anything at all. He said it would be aggressive treatment and I’d struggle with it every day. I’d be weak, nauseous, puking my guts out all day; you know the drill. He said it was my decision whether I wanted to take the chance or – try to enjoy my last few months without treatment.”


Just say it. Just tell me, I can’t take this anymore. I shake my head. “What did you tell him?” I hear my voice break. I’m trying to prepare myself for this.


He’s agonizingly quiet for awhile before he continues. “I decided – to try the radiation,” he tells me.


I let out a breath I was holding in. I can’t believe it. “Brian, that’s so great. I’m so –“


He cuts me off. “Hold on a second,” he tells me. “I said I’d try. I’m not making any promises. If they don’t think it’s helping after the first few treatments, I’m not going to do it anymore.”


I nod. “I understand.” He’s going to fight it; he’s going to try. I would run down the streets shouting for joy if I wasn’t so unwilling to leave the loft right now. I lean toward him slightly. “Can I –“ He knows what I’m asking, and I’m silently begging him to say yes.


I wait for his answer. He looks scared for some reason. I think he’s going to say no, but then he nods slightly. I lean forward more and wrap my arms around his neck. His arms slowly encircle my waist and I feel like I’m flying. Touching him, being in his arms for the first time in ten years is like winning the lottery to me. I bury my face in his neck and breathe in his familiar scent. I could stay here forever; I never want to let go of him. I hug him tighter and he responds accordingly.


I slightly pull away from the hug after a bit, but I don’t break our contact. Our faces are mere inches away from each other and before I realize what I’m doing, I close the gap. My lips brush against his softly, as if I’m scared I’m going to break him. Maybe I am. He doesn’t respond at first, but then I feel him start to kiss back. I can’t believe how amazing his lips feel against mine. My body is on overload – his taste, his scent, it’s so overwhelming – and I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust. I deepen the kiss a little and I feel his hand find its way to my face. He just holds it there, gently as we kiss. I reach my hand between us and place it on his thigh. He pulls away suddenly.


“Justin, we can’t – do that,” he tells me and backs away slightly so we’re no longer touching.


“Why not?” I find myself asking. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’m expecting him to get angry; I know why he feels that way. Why would I ask something like that? But I can’t help it. I need to know if Daphne was right.


“Why not?” he asks incredulously. He shakes his head, rises from the couch, and walks toward the kitchen, away from me.


I stand up and follow him, not backing down. “That’s the first time you even let me near you since I’ve been back,” I tell him. “You’re acting like you’re a disease; like I’ll catch something just by touching you.” I know I should stop but I can’t; it’s too late. “Or is it some other reason? I saw you hug Daphne, and you let Gus touch you too. Why not me? Why? Is it because you’re afraid I’m going to leave again? Because, Brian, you have to believe me. I’m not going anywhere. I want to be here with you. I lo—“


“Don’t,” he cuts me off. “Just don’t, Justin, please.” He sounds so vulnerable and I can’t stand it.


I sigh. “I just – I just want to be close to you again. I haven’t been close to you in ten years and – I need it. I need to feel like you’re still here.”


“We can’t –“ he shakes his head and backs away more.


“Why? Michael and Ben have been together for years and Michael is still negative. You know that. So why –“ I know I’m begging, but I can’t seem to stop myself. All this emotion has been pent up for awhile and now I can’t control it.


“Because you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing!” He finally snaps. I look at him incredulously, at a loss for words. I don’t know what I’m doing?


“What do you mean?” I finally forced out.


He reaches up and undoes the top button of his shirt. He hesitates before starting on the second one. He quickly unbuttons them all, pulls his shirt off, and drops it to the ground. He looks at me, waiting. My breath catches in my throat and a sob escapes me.


My eyes lower to his chest at the small reddish purple lesions scattered across his torso. They’re littered across his chest, over his ribcage, and even down onto his abdomen. They almost look like bruises, only redder and they’re everywhere. There must be at least twelve or fifteen of them, varying in sizes and color; some small and dark, others slightly bigger and lighter in color. They look painful and I silently wonder if they are.


I’m crying openly now, tears falling down my cheeks uncontrollably as I stare at the lesions marring Brian’s beautiful body. I look back up into his eyes and I see that they’re glassy. I can tell he’s trying to keep himself together. He takes in a shaky breath. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he repeats again.


“Brian,” I say. It comes out in a strangled whisper and I’m not even sure if he heard it.


“Just go,” he tells me. I shake my head. I can’t just leave. “Please,” he pleads. I don’t know what to do. I feel like my feet won’t move toward the door. I know I need to respect his wishes. He doesn’t need this stress right now. I can’t imagine what he’s going through, and there’s no way I could understand it. He bends down to pick up his shirt and turns and walks into the bathroom without another word.


The sound of the door slamming echoes throughout the loft.