“You know, whoever our guy is, he doesn’t have to be your standard superhero steroid case.”

“It’s his mind that makes him sexy.”

“It’s his fierce individualism--”

“--that gives him courage.”

“His uncompromising moral code--”

“--that makes him strong!”

*****

“I need you to take a picture of me,” Brian said as he breezed by the table where Justin sat eating his breakfast one Tuesday morning in mid-May.

“Um, okay…” Justin said around his mouthful of cereal, swallowing before he continued. “What for?”

“I have an idea,” Brian said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “I want to make something. Something to help people see me.”

“Well, I think a picture will definitely do that.” Justin was still totally lost. What was Brian planning to do with this picture?

“We can’t do it here though.” Brian poured an inordinately large amount of sugar into the cup, as always, and stirred. “Needs to be outside.”

“Okay...do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

“I’m not even sure it’s going to work.” Brian shifted the mug from one hand to the other so he could make his way over to the table one wheel at a time. Justin knew Brian couldn’t carry a hot drink in his usual way because he wouldn’t know if he burned himself. “I was thinking I wanted to start a public service campaign. Something about visibility. Seeing people with disabilities as people. Looking at us instead of past us. Seeing instead of staring. Generally not being ableist assholes.”

“I think that sounds like a great idea.”

“I just feel like I need to do something, you know? Make a contribution to the world other than having fucked my way through most of gay Pittsburgh.”

Justin laughed. “And quite the contribution that was. Brian Kinney, the man, the legend.”

“Shame I can't do the same here.”

“Depends on your perspective.” Justin tipped his cereal bowl up to his lips to drink what was left of the milk.

“You know, Ben called me the biggest whore in Pittsburgh once. When he tried to stuff me in a locker at the gym after I caught him buying steroids. I think I still have a scar from that. Part of my collection now, I guess.”

“I like your scars. They mean something,” Justin said as he got up and went into the kitchen to rinse out the bowl and pour his own cup of coffee.

Brian snorted. “What do they mean? That I’m not perfect anymore? That Brian Kinney got knocked down a peg?”

“No, that you’re a survivor. That you made it through.”

“That’s debatable.”

“No, it’s not. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Anyway, are you busy today? I want to get started on this. You can help me with the graphics if you want. I'll pay you.”

“You're not paying me.” Justin took his seat at the table again, mug in-hand. “I’m free until 11. Then I have to go to work at the restaurant.”

“I wish you’d quit that stupid job, so you could focus on your painting. I can support us both.”

“I don’t want you to have to support me.”

“I’m not obligated. I’m volunteering. Or there’s always that position at Kinnetik I offered you. It’s still open.”

“I’m not accepting your charity.”

“It’s not charity. Christ, Justin. You’re good. Have you seen what my art department produces most of the time? You’d take over the place in a week.”

“Part of coming to New York was me standing on my own two feet, remember? Not depending on you.”

“Well, you’re living with me.”

“And I wanted to pay rent, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“Because partners don’t pay rent. You’re not my fucking roommate.”

“Partners share expenses.”

“Fine, what do you want to pay for?”

“Something, anything, but you won’t let me near your mail to try to find a bill I can pay.”

“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.” Brian raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, one created by one Brian Kinney himself.”

“I’m good at that. Anyhow, you don’t need to pay any bills. We’re good. You can pay me in sexual favors.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “I’m not quitting my restaurant job.”

“Fine. Whatever. Suit yourself. If you want to keep wasting your time waiting tables when you could be revolutionizing the art world, that’s your prerogative.”

“I doubt I’d be revolutionizing the art world.”

“You never know. Aren’t you always telling me not to sell myself short?”

“This is totally different.”

“I don’t think so, but okay. Anyway, if you change your mind, you can come work for me. Waste your time making ads for pills and sunglasses instead of serving club sandwiches and caesar salads.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that.” Brian put his coffee mug down on the table and went into the kitchen, opened the fridge to pull out two eggs and a small container of peppers and onions that Justin had seen him chopping on Sunday afternoon.

“I still can’t get over seeing you cook. Cutting up vegetables.”

“Well, there’s no Liberty Diner here. Sometimes a man’s got to learn to be self-sufficient.” Brian leaned down to pull a skillet from the cabinet next to the stove.

Justin got up from the table and leaned on the kitchen island a few steps away, sipping his coffee. “Is that the companion story to a man needing to know when to ask for help?”

“I can make my own omelet, Justin.” Brian poured a bit of olive oil into the skillet on the stove and turned on the burner, then grabbed a bowl and cracked the eggs into it.

“I know. It’s just weird. Brian Kinney...cooking.”

“I already told you -- I figured if I wasn’t out drinking, drugging, and fucking, I should take up cooking. I’m not great at it, but I can feed myself. Besides, you’ve been living here with me for how many months now?”

“Three.”

“And you’ve seen me cook this how many times now? Dozens? And I haven’t died from food poisoning yet. Sometimes things change. People change. We get older and we change.”

Justin and Brian had definitely been through some changes in their time together. Justin had gone from stalker to sort-of boyfriend, to long distance lover, to ex-boyfriend, to almost-husband, to lonely artist, to partner, all in the span of the past six-and-a-half years. And he wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. He’d also seen Brian go from not believing in love, to letting other people refer to Justin as his boyfriend without protest, to actually missing Justin when he was gone, to finally admitting that he loved Justin, to asking Justin to marry him, to letting him go to New York -- alone -- as the ultimate sacrifice, as a way to show his love. If someone had told Justin when he first made eye contact with Brian under that street lamp on Liberty Avenue, what the rest of their story would entail, he would never have believed them. Hell, there were lots of points mid-story that he wouldn’t have believed how things would ultimately turn out. That a rainy Wednesday last June would change Brian’s life forever. That they’d end up here, right now, together in New York. And he still wouldn’t trade any of it.

When Brian had finished cooking and eating his breakfast, and Justin had finished his coffee, they got dressed and headed out to a small park not far from their apartment. Brian had the fancy digital camera he sometimes used when he needed a photo for an ad on short notice and didn’t have time to book a real photographer. Justin didn’t consider himself much of a photographer either, but he did have the advantage of an artist’s eye, so he was willing to give it a try.

“Okay, so, it needs to look natural,” Brian said. “This spot over here looks good for lighting. Good thing it’s cloudy, there’s less shadows that way.”

Brian was looking seriously fucking sexy, Justin thought, in his jeans and boots and his black leather jacket over a red button-up shirt that was half-unbuttoned to reveal a black t-shirt underneath. He made his way to an open area and told Justin to take a few shots of him sitting alone. He was looking at the camera in a way that made Justin want to jump him right there in the park, but he resisted. Sex in public places was probably off the table, at least for now, and Justin didn’t really want to get arrested today, either. He was wondering how an alluring photograph of his boyfriend was going to play into a campaign for equality, but he wasn’t going to complain -- he was definitely enjoying the show.

After Justin had taken a dozen or so sultry shots of Brian in the park, Brian wanted to go a couple of blocks away to the front door of a restaurant they’d both wanted to try a few weeks before, but couldn’t get into because the entrance had three steps. Brian posed himself by the steps, instructing Justin to make sure that the lighted “open” sign by the door was also in the shot.

When Brian seemed satisfied that he had enough to get started on whatever he was planning, they headed back home, where Justin left Brian in the office, staring at his computer screen, so deep in thought that he barely seemed to notice Justin telling him he’d be back later tonight. Justin hated these nine-hour shifts at the restaurant, but he really needed to feel like he wasn’t depending on Brian to provide for him, even though Brian wasn’t letting him pay for anything -- not even groceries. So at the moment, all of his money that wasn’t going for art supplies was being put into a savings account. He didn’t know what he was saving for, but it was there if he needed it.

The entire time he was working, his mind was anywhere but the dining room of the cafe -- he was thinking about the new issue of “Rage” that he and Michael had started working on a couple of weeks before. Since their superhero had always been based on Brian, Michael had come up with the idea to work the twist in Brian’s own story into the Rage character as well, in a slightly different way. Justin was supposed to be finishing the art this week, but that was difficult since workaholic Brian was almost constantly in their shared office/studio, and Justin’s computer screen was clearly visible from Brian’s desk. He needed to figure out some reason to rearrange the room to turn his computer screen toward the wall without making Brian wonder what he was working on, since he and Michael wanted it to be a surprise.

Justin wasn’t sure how Brian was going to feel about it, but Michael had promised that final approval would go to Brian, and if he wasn’t comfortable with it, it wouldn’t be published. Neither of them wanted a repeat of what had happened when Rage and J.T. got married and they’d blindsided Brian with it. Although Justin had to admit, looking back now, that had been a very passive-aggressive way of dealing with his and Brian’s contradictory ideas about what the next step in their relationship should be. Even though this situation was different, it was still deeply personal, and it belonged to Brian and no one else. He should have the final say.

Brian was sitting at the dining room table, eating a salad, when Justin arrived home, exhausted and smelling like garlic and onions. This place might have been slightly higher class than the Liberty Diner, but he sure didn’t come home smelling any better. He always felt like the smell permeated him -- his clothes, his skin, his hair -- and the first place he usually wanted to go after coming home was the shower.

“Hey,” Brian greeted him, coming out from behind the table to give Justin a kiss. He tasted vaguely of balsamic vinaigrette. “Missed you today.”

“Missed you too. How’s your project coming along?” Justin followed Brian back over to the table and started kneading Brian’s shoulders, which seemed to be perpetually knotted up now, thanks to either stress or overuse...probably both.

“Pretty good.” Brian leaned into Justin’s touch. “I like it so far. I want to get a couple more people involved in it, if I can find anyone willing. So that way it’s not just me. Rochelle told me about a couple of different disability support groups around town, so I think I might go to one tomorrow. See if I can find a couple of other people who are willing to not sit quietly and be overlooked. Who want to help me shake things up a little.”

“You’re so sexy when you start turning all revolutionary.” Justin bent down and wrapped his arms around Brian from behind.

“Oh yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“You smell like garlic,” Brian said as he tilted his head up to look at Justin and grinned.

“Yeah, I know. I should take a shower.” Justin gave Brian a quick peck on the cheek, then turned and went into the bedroom, stripping off his clothes as he walked. The warm water from the shower felt good on his skin as it cascaded down onto his back and shoulders, washing away the day -- the smells and the stress. Maybe Brian was right and he should quit the restaurant job. But he really didn’t want to feel like he was making Brian take care of him.

Once he felt like the scent of Brian’s fancy French soap had sufficiently taken away the scent of the cafe, Justin turned off the water, dried off, and went into the bedroom to change into his sweats. He was ready to find some mindless television to watch and spend some quality time with Brian on the sofa, making out and messing around. One thing Justin really liked about this new version of his partner was that Brian seemed to enjoy that too -- just being together. Cuddling, even, if Justin dared call it that. Justin had never been much into tricking -- he’d mostly done it because it seemed like Brian expected him to do it. And he would occasionally do it just to piss Brian off when he was mad at Brian over something stupid. But now that Brian wasn’t doing it, Justin didn’t feel pressured to do it either. He’d much rather spend a quiet evening at home with his partner than go to the club and get sucked off by some anonymous trick. He’d always felt that way. And now it seemed Brian was okay with that too.

When Justin came out of the bathroom, he was greeted by Brian, lying on his side in their bed like he was posing for a nude portrait, clearly having taken one of his little blue pills. Apparently Brian had other plans for the evening, and Justin certainly wasn’t going to argue, even if he was tired. Brian initiating sex wasn’t anywhere near as frequent as it used to be, and that made Justin wonder what was going on tonight and why Brian was doing this. But he wasn’t going to ask. He was just going to relax and enjoy the moment.

Justin climbed into bed next to Brian and gently rolled him over onto his back as he brought himself up to straddle his lover’s body. He worked his way through the repertoire he’d built of above-the-waist licking and nipping and rubbing and caressing that Brian seemed to enjoy, while Brian worked on pleasuring and preparing him. They were both breathing hard, and Justin knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, so he grabbed a condom off the nightstand and used one hand to put it on Brian, while running the other hand lightly over Brian’s hips, making him gasp. It still felt strange to Justin -- to essentially bottom from the top -- as he rode Brian and worked his lover over with his hands as they went, but it still felt amazing to have Brian inside him. He wondered what Brian felt now when they did this. If he was experiencing the same feeling of ecstasy in his mind that Justin was. How much of that was physical, and how much of it was mental?

But he didn’t have much time to entertain those thoughts before his own orgasm overwhelmed his mind and body, and he came crashing down on top of Brian. Brian wrapped his arms around Justin and kissed him, before letting Justin slide off his body and come to rest beside him on the sheets.

Justin got rid of the condom, and they laid in each other’s arms for a while, as Justin’s breathing slowed to normal. He rolled over and rubbed a hand over Brian’s chest, pausing when he realized that Brian was still breathing heavy and deep, and he could feel the man’s heart pounding in his chest.

“You okay?” Justin asked as he propped himself up on his elbow so he could more easily see Brian’s face. Brian’s cheeks were flushed. Justin was certain that his worry was written all over his own face, and he could feel his brow furrowing.

“I will be,” Brian said softly. “This happens sometimes. It’s not usually this bad. But I had a lot of coffee today. I guess caffeine and hard-on pills don’t mix.”

“Brian--”

“I’m okay. I promise.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should go to the hos--”

“No,” Brian cut him off, his voice suddenly louder and stronger. “I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”

Justin relented, although he was still deeply concerned and hoping that Brian wasn’t having a heart attack. Brian was digging his metaphorical heels in, though, and arguing would only result in him pushing Justin away. Justin tried to relax and settle back in, and wait. His hand was still resting on his lover’s chest, trying to be subtle as he felt for any changes in rhythm that might indicate Brian was downplaying what was happening right now.

It took another five minutes that felt like forever for Brian’s heart rate to calm, but it eventually did, much to Justin’s relief.

“We’ve got to find another way,” Justin said. “I’m not going to let you do this to yourself for my sake.”

Brian shrugged and turned over so that he was looking Justin in the eyes. “It’s okay. It’s just a side effect of the drugs. It goes away.”

“Well, it scared the fuck out of me tonight.”

“I told you I was fine. And I am.”

“Well, I still don’t want you doing this to yourself on my behalf. Because you feel like you have to or something.”

“I don’t feel like I have to.” Brian reached out and touched Justin’s cheek. “I want to.”

“But why? What are you getting out of it?”

“I’m with you. I’m making you happy. And I still do think about sex, you know. It feels good to me, even if I can’t feel anything down there. It’s different, but it still feels good. My brain still likes being with you. I still want you. I wanted to fuck you tonight.”

“I hope you don’t feel like I’m pushing you to do things. I’m sorry if I am.”

“I like it when you push me.”

“What?”

“Don’t apologize for pushing me,” Brian said, his gaze serious as his hazel eyes bore straight into Justin’s baby blues. “I’m here because you pushed me. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be sitting alone in my apartment in Pittsburgh, feeling sorry for myself, just trying to get through the day. Because of you pushing me, I’m here, in New York, building a new life for myself, with someone I love.”

In that moment, Justin didn’t have any words for Brian -- he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t know what the tears would be -- tears of joy because he was so happy to be here with Brian, or tears of pride for how far Brian had come, or tears of sadness for the loneliness and despair Brian must have endured before they were reunited.

So he settled for, “I love you too,” and pressed his lips against Brian’s in a drawn-out, tender kiss.

The next morning, Brian was awake before Justin, and was already in the office working on something when Justin emerged from the bedroom. Justin wondered when he was ever going to get a chance to finish his drawings for “Rage” -- he was on a deadline and quickly running out of time. And this deadline was tighter than normal, because their publisher was still going to expect an new issue, even if Brian vetoed this one, so he and Michael had to leave themselves time to start over from scratch if need be.

He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen before joining Brian in the office, pausing to look over Brian’s shoulder at the monitor. On it, was one of the images they’d taken the day before -- the one from outside the restaurant -- with the words, “Open to some. Not to all.” A powerful statement, that was painfully true. Prior to the last several months, Justin had never given much thought to whether or not buildings and businesses could be accessed by everyone, and not just people who were able-bodied. Now that he was more cognizant of it, he found himself being incensed on more than one occasion when Brian couldn’t join him somewhere, or when they would have to pass up doing something entirely because there was no way for Brian to get in. And Brian was much more able than many others in the disability community, because he could jump a curb or a single step safely and relatively easily, which wasn’t an option for everyone. Justin couldn’t imagine the frustration of being someone in a power wheelchair who just wanted to get a cup of coffee and a scone like any other average Joe, but couldn’t even get in the door.

“What do you think?” Brian asked, turning his head up to look at Justin standing beside him.

“Very thought-provoking.”

“Thanks,” he said as he clicked the mouse to bring up a different image. This one was one of the photos from the park, featuring dead-sexy Brian and his sultry stare, and the text across the top said, “See me. Look me in the eye.” At the bottom, were the words, “See a person, not a disability.”

“I love it,” Justin said. “Now everyone will see how sexy my boyfriend is.”

Brian smiled and rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“I know it’s not.” Justin bent down and kissed Brian. “So what are you going to do with these?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Brian sighed. “I want them to be out where a lot of people will see them. I can’t be the one footing the bill myself though. I’ve already learned that lesson the hard way. I’m thinking I’ll see if one of my clients might be interested in putting their name on them -- creating some goodwill in the disability community for themselves. I still want to see if I can get someone else to pose for some pictures, too, so it’s not just me. I feel weird about being in my own ads.”

“Well, I think they’re perfect.” He kissed Brian again. “You’re perfect. So are you going to the support group today?” Justin had his fingers crossed that Brian would say yes, so he would get at least a couple of hours to himself to work on “Rage” today.

“Yeah, there’s a lunch meeting uptown I was going to go to. I just hope it’s not going to be a bunch of sad sacks sitting around feeling sorry for themselves. That won’t work for me at all.”

“I seem to recall you used to be one of those sad sacks.” Justin laid a hand on Brian’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“I know.” Brian pulled his lips into his mouth the way he had always done when he was feeling shy or nervous. “But I need someone else who’s ready to take on the world.”

Those words were music to Justin’s ears -- that Brian felt ready to take on the world. He was extremely proud of how far Brian had come in the last couple of months. He’d not only agreed to talk to someone, so he could get out of the psychological mire he’d been stuck in since the accident, but he also seemed to have dived in headfirst, channelling the Brian Kinney who was always fully invested in everything he did. Part of the old Brian Kinney, coming to life in the new one. He wasn’t crying in the shower anymore or stealing away to be alone so Justin wouldn’t see him in an emotional moment when everything finally got to him. Brian had even started using the gym in their apartment building and was lifting weights again, working on his upper body and core strength, and doing better with remembering to do the passive stretches he was supposed to do to maintain flexibility in his lower body. And with Rochelle’s help and direction, he was finding a purpose in his life -- something he could do to feel like he was contributing to society. Like his life meant something. Like he was still here for a reason. He seemed happier now, more at peace. They were happy.

While Brian was gone to the support group meeting, Justin took advantage of having some time alone in their office to work on the comic book. He really liked the story Michael had come up with, and he hoped Brian would as well. It was a story of overcoming adversity when the odds are stacked against you. Michael and Justin wanted to use Brian’s comic book alter-ego to honor their friend and partner’s strength and resilience.

Justin was nearly finished with the last page of the comic when he heard the door to the apartment open. He quickly saved his work and minimized the window before going out to the living room to greet Brian with a kiss.

“Hey,” he said. “How was the support group? Find any other revolutionaries?”

“It actually wasn’t half bad,” Brian said as he wheeled into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “An interesting group of people with some powerful stories. And I did find someone else who wanted in with me on this project. Her name’s Alison. She had a few minutes after the meeting so we shot a few photos that I think I can do something with.”

“That’s great. I’m glad it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.”

“Me too.” Brian twisted the lid off the bottle and took a sip. “Turns out being in a room full of other people who get where you’re coming from and understand your frustrations is kind of nice.”

Justin agreed. It was nice. And it was one of the reasons he wished that Brian was more willing to talk about the bashing -- he truly did understand a lot of where Brian was coming from most of the time, even if Brian didn’t think their two situations compared. And Justin felt it might do them both some good to talk about the bashing more openly, although he’d long ago resigned himself to that not being likely to happen. The demons Brian had from the bashing were still off limits, even now. In any case, he was glad that Brian had found some people he could talk to and felt comfortable with. He had his group of friends in Pittsburgh, but here in New York, he really only associated with Justin, unless he was having a business meeting or going to an appointment.

Again, Justin had to put “Rage” on hold while Brian worked in the office. After an hour or so, he called Justin over to see an image of a young woman about the same age as he was, who was a triple amputee. She was leaning against a building, prosthetics on both legs and one arm, and the text on her photo said, “Don’t assume I need help. Ask me. Let me decide.”

“She’s an Army vet,” Brian said. “Fucking 20 years old when this shit happened to her. And people treat her like how they’ve treated me for the last year.”

“Well, it sounds like you two might have something in common, then.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Brian said as he saved his work and closed the program. “I’m going down to the gym. Want to join me?”

Justin did want to join him, but he also really needed to finish the last page of the comic, so he chose to stay upstairs and work. The phone rang just as he was putting on the finishing touches. It was Michael -- perfect timing.

“Hey,” Justin answered. “I’ve almost got those pages ready to send to you.”

“Awesome,” Michael said. “I can’t wait to see it. Anyway, that’s not really why I called. You guys will be in town over Brian’s birthday, right?”

“Yes…” Justin had a feeling he knew where Michael was going with this, and that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

“I was thinking I’d like to throw him a surprise party.”

“You know he’ll fucking kill you, right? Murder you right there on the spot, in front of everyone. And then murder me for knowing about it, and kick me out of the apartment, and I’ll be homeless. Do you want me to be homeless?”

“How can you be homeless if you’re dead?”

“Fine -- if he doesn’t kill me, he’ll kick me out, and then I’ll be homeless.” Justin leaned back in his desk chair and looked out the window toward the downtown Manhattan skyline.

“So I won’t tell him you knew about it. You can act surprised too.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea. You know how he feels about birthdays anyhow, that they’re silly and sentimental and not worth celebrating.”

“I also know that Brian says a lot of things that he wants you to think he feels, but that he really doesn’t.”

“I’m not sure that’s the case with this, but even if it was...you know what happened on his 30th birthday. He hasn’t even so much as mentioned his birthday to me one time since then. I think he just wants to pretend it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Well, he almost didn’t live to be 36, so I’d like to celebrate. And I know he’s not the same person he used to be, so I figured maybe he might like it a little bit too. Or at least to see everyone and eat some cake and have a drink.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. I’m not sure that particular part of him has changed much. He believes in celebrating achievements, not just being born.”

“Then he can choose to view it as celebrating his achievement of still being here, still kicking ass, whatever. I’m doing it anyway, no matter what you say. I only asked because I wanted to make sure you were going to be here. And you’d better not change your plans now.”

“I couldn’t even if I tried. He’s got meetings all day at Kinnetik that start at 9:00 next morning so we will definitely be there on his birthday. We’re staying in town for a week.”

“Okay. Do you think you can get him to go to Ma’s house on Sunday night? We’ll say it’s just a regular family dinner.”

“He knows when his birthday is, Michael, even if he never mentions it. You don’t think he might suspect?”

“You’ll just have to assure him that it’s not a party then, just an occasion to get together and eat baked rigatoni and garlic bread and drink too much wine.”

“I’m telling you, he’s going to be so pissed at you when he figures it out. Do you really want your mother to witness your best friend murdering you in her living room?” Justin laughed.

“That’s the chance I’ll have to take. Anyway, he can’t stay mad at me for long. He never does.”

“Alright, it’s on you then. I’ll get him there, but I didn’t know anything about this.”

“My lips are sealed,” Michael said.

“I’ll send these over to you in a few minutes.”

“Looking forward to it.” Michael sighed on the other end of the line. “Well, I’d better head home. It’s closing time.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. Hopefully not for the last time,” Justin chuckled.

“Nah, I’m not scared of him.” Michael was laughing too. “See ya.”

“See ya.”

Michael was right -- Brian definitely wasn’t the same person he had been a year ago. He wasn’t the person Justin had known for the better part of five years and nearly married. If anything, he was a better version of himself now. He’d taken something that had ended his life as he knew it and thrown him into a totally different one, and now he was using that new life to do something substantial. Something great.

And Justin couldn’t have been prouder to call him his partner, his lover, and most of all, his friend.