Into My Night

LaVieEnRose

So before I get started here...I know most people don't understand what I'm doing with Justin. A lot of my friends act like I'm selling myself short, dating this guy who's never going to be fully committed to just me, but I feel like...I mean, I don't want to derail this into some sad story when I've barely gotten this thing off the ground as it is, but where I am in my life right now...I am just starting to get my shit together. I don't need the pressure of being someone's everything and I don't have room for someone to be mine. Usually when you have a boyfriend, you have to shape yourself, sort of, become everything that he needs in a relationship and figure out how to contort him so he's everything you need in yours.

And Justin and I are just...ourselves, and I never have to worry that I'm not everything he needs, because he can just go somewhere else.

And do you know how fucking great it is to have someone who just gets it? Like, Justin's not positive or anything, but I don't have to come with some excuse if I need to cancel because I'm just feeling like shit, and I don't have to worry that he's going to think I'm exaggerating if someone said something discriminatory and crappy to me. And like...have you seen him? Okay, sue me, so I'll take him however I can get him.

Anyway. So I guess this whole thing started when Justin and I were hanging out at his apartment on a Saturday afternoon. I'd come over midday and made lunch and had some dumb argument with Brian about the progress we were making on a campaign for a new client until Justin snapped at both of us so shut up. Then Brian had left to do whatever the hell he does, and Justin and I had sex—on the pull-out in his spare room, I had never even gone into his bedroom, at that point, though that was about to change—and made lunch and now we were lounging around the couch with this cheesy horror movie we'd found on demand. Justin was resting against the arm of the couch with his feet on my lap, and I was half-watching the movie and half playing this dumb game on my phone that I'm obsessed with, but I noticed Justin kept squirming around.

I looked over I noticed he looked kind of...out of it. Like he wasn't really watching the movie, and he was fussing with one of his ears. He gets a ringing in them sometimes from his condition that made him lose his hearing, but this didn't look like that. This looked like something else.

I shook his knee. You okay?

He looked at me for too long before he answered. Yeah, I'm fine, why?

I don't think you're fine. You seem really seizurey right now, am I reading that right? I'd seen Justin have plenty of small seizures at that point, and a few bigger ones that affected more than one part of his body, but never any where he'd lost consciousness. But at soon as we'd started dating I'd done all this research so I'd know exactly what to do if it happened, so I felt really ready.

He looked confused. Maybe.

I paused the movie. Yeah, you're gonna lie down. Come on. I got up and tugged him off the couch and helped him lie down on the floor. He was still looking at me kind of suspiciously, like he wasn't totally sure who I was or what I was up to, but as soon as I'd gotten a pillow under his head he started seizing.

It was definitely nothing like the ones I'd seen before. This was more like a seizure from a movie or something, like what you picture in your head when you think about them. It was like he was choking, and I knew he wasn't, and his lips turned purple which was scary even though I knew that was normal. I got him onto his side and then took my hands off him like I was supposed to, and I got the timer going on my phone so I'd know how long it lasted. It's okay, I told him, even though of course he couldn't see me, because...I don't know, maybe he could somehow sense it or something. It's almost over. You're doing really good. It's going to stop soon, okay? Don't worry. I looked at the timer running on my phone. Don't worry.

The seizure stopped after two minutes and ten seconds, but it felt like so much longer. He woke up right after it, but only for about half a minute, and I told him it was okay and he should go to sleep and he listened, not that he really had much other choice with how tired he was after all that. I knew I didn't have to call an ambulance or anything since he was breathing fine, but I didn't know where Brian was besides not here so I figured I should call him. His number was on Justin's medalert bracelet—I have one too, but mine doesn't have a phone number, because my best friends are Deaf and I wouldn't want them getting bothered anyway—but I had his number in my phone already because we send each other dumb shit we find on the internet sometimes. I don't like texting—I was mainstreamed and didn't learn to sign until I was a teenager and it was generally a shitshow and anyway my written English is kind of a disaster, which is another reason I'm lucky I can draw—but Brian doesn't get judgey about my shitty grammar and spelling. Neither does Justin, of course, but that's more of a given.

Brian picked up pretty quickly. He was, from the looks of it, on a treadmill, sweating and panting and looking really goddamn hot. He raised an eyebrow at me.

Hi, I said. Justin had a seizure. Uh, a tonic-clonic one? But he's okay.

Brian turned down the speed on the treadmill but kept moving. Just now?

Yeah, it's over now.

He's sleeping now? Breathing's fine?

Yeah. He woke up for a minute but then he fell asleep.

Brian nodded. Didn't hit his head or anything?

No, he was already lying down.

All right, good. He looked at his watch. Okay, I can get back in like...half an hour? You can stay until then?

Of course.

He should sleep the whole time. If he wakes up he's probably going to be a total jerk, so try not to hold it against him.

It's fine. It's totally fine.

He gave me a skeptical look. Can you handle this?

Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine.

He didn't look convinced, but he said, Good. Hold down the fort. If he has another one in the next fifteen minutes, call an ambulance, then call me. Got it?

I took a deep breath. Yeah. Got it.

He didn't have another one. Mostly he slept, but he'd wake up every few minutes to mumble something I couldn't even kind of lipread and hit the floor in frustration and fall back asleep. I put a blanket over him and rubbed his back and told him it was okay and played my stupid phone game and waited for Brian to get back.

He waltzed in about twenty minutes later. He gave me a wave and crouched down next to Justin. How's the patient? he asked me, brushing Justin's hair away from his face.

He's been waking up a lot, but just for a minute or two every time. I think he's okay? He's okay, right?

Brian was stretching out Justin's arms and legs, testing all the joints with his fingers to make sure Justin hadn't hurt himself. This one's always been loose, he said, small, when one of Justin's elbows looked like it bent a little further back than it should, and there was something so intimate about Brian knowing that that I felt like, I don't know, I was intruding or something. Yeah, he's good, Brian said. He did great. He shook Justin by the shoulder until he woke up. Rise and shine.

Justin took a long time to wake up, but when he did he immediately slapped his hands away. Go away.

Well, well, look who's talking.

I put my hand on Justin's leg.

Need to wake up for just a little while, Brian said.

I don't want to.

I know you don't, Brian said. Here we go, okay?

No, fuck off, Justin said, but Brian just laughed a little and sat him up carefully anyway, nice and slow, arranging Justin's arms around his neck to pick him up. Justin started crying, which made my stomach twist, because I'd never seen that before and I was scared he was hurting, and I must have had some kind of look on my face because Brian got my attention and pointed to his lips, since he couldn't really sign with his arms full of Justin.

“He cries after seizures,” Brian said. He's really good at speaking clearly for lipreading. “His brain's traumatized. He's okay.”

Can I touch?

“Yeah. Here.” He shifted himself closer to me, pulling Justin up onto his lap, and Justin tucked himself into Brian and I stroked his hair. It's always so soft and it smells like lime.

I said, “I didn't do this, did I?”

“I don't know, did you do something?”

“No...”

Brian shook his head. “Just happens sometimes. A few times a year he gets one of these big ones. Unless you flashed lights in his eyes or got him drunk, you're innocent.”

“What about both of at the same time, do they cancel each other out?”

He snorted and stood up slowly, Justin hoisted in his arms. Justin clung onto Brian's neck and pulled himself in tightly, and Brian said, “Aww,” and gave him a kiss on top of the head. “Tell him he's okay,” he said to me.

I got where Justin could see me and signed, You're okay, Justin, and he nodded and kept his eyes on me, so I followed them into the bedroom and sat hesitantly on the side of the bed. Their room wasn't as big as I thought it would be—their apartment's so enormous—but it was bright and full of art and the sheets felt expensive. Brian lay him down on the bed and asked him a few questions, just checking if he knew what happened and if he needed anything. Justin kept reaching out to Brian, but when Brian put his hands on him Justin would go, No, don't hold me, all pissed off as if he'd told Brian a million times, and Brian was trying very very hard not to laugh. It was kind of funny. And Brian didn't seem scared at all, and that was doing a lot to calm me down. Probably Justin too, if Justin were even aware enough to be scared.

Eventually Brian was satisfied that Justin wasn't any more out if it than he was supposed to be, and Justin reached out for my hand and promptly fell back asleep.

Brian kissed Justin's forehead, looked at me like he was...I don't know, almost like he was sizing me up, and said, You know, I still really need a fucking shower. Left the gym without one for this drama queen. Think you could stick around and keep an eye on him?

I sat up straighter. Yeah. I've got this. Don't worry.

He tilted his head to the side and said, I can see that.

So Brian took a shower, and I watched over Justin, and when Brian got out he shook my hand and then laughed and said I'm just kidding and gave me a hug and told me I'd done a good job today, and I guess that was sort of practice for what came next.

**

I didn't see Justin for a few days, though we sent videos back and forth through that. He had a rough time recovering from the seizure, just dealing with a lot of mood swings and confusion and generally feeling shitty, and I had a doctor's appointment and got bad news about my T-cells so I wasn't much in the mood for company anyway. It was kind of weird, too, because I knew he was coming to Kinnetik a few of those days to just hang out where Brian could watch him, but he didn't ask for me to come up to see him so I didn't bother him. God knows I get it, so it didn't hurt my feelings or anything. When I'm sick I just want to be by myself. Normally Emily, Jane's mom, would have been seeing him, since she's in and out of Brian's office all the time, but she was still on maternity leave and anyway she didn't like me so she probably wouldn't have been giving me reports anyway.

Justin and I met up near the end of the week at this cafe uptown in Manhattan, close to where I live. He'd said he was feeling better, but he looked fucking terrible, and he was having all this trouble following the conversation, and like, it was just me and him, it's not like it was some complicated thing to keep track of. Eventually I reached across the table and poked him, and he grabbed my finger and twisted it around.

You need to go home, I said. Have you been to the doctor?

He nodded and yawned. It's just because I haven't been sleeping well.

Nightmares?

He shook his head. I just don't fall asleep. Ever since the seizure I can't fucking fall asleep it's like I shook out the part of my brain that knows how to do it..

Is that normal?

It's never happened to me before. My neurologist said it's not that uncommon. God, I've slept like three hours a night since and it's...getting to me.

Can you take something?

Yeah, I'm gonna take a ton of Benadryl tonight. I'm allergic to all the hardcore shit, but Benadryl always knocks me out.

I brought him to the subway and asked if he wanted me to bring him home, but he gave me that soft kind of look he does and told me he'd be fine. He got up on his toes to kiss me, and I sighed a bit at the feeling of his lips on mine. His body was against mine, and I could actually feel how tired he was. His whole body was shaking, just a little, like he was vibrating, and honestly I was pissed off at Brian for not forcing him to cancel on me.

Go home and take a lot of Benadryl, I said. I rested my forehead against his and breathed him in for a minute, tried to breathe into him calm, comfort, health. Three things I'm generally not super full of, but I gave them to him anyway, somehow.

Or I tried. I really tried.

**

I barely heard from Justin for two days. I figured he was probably sleeping for most of it, but midday on Friday I was working on textures for the different layers of an ad for athletic socks when Alice tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Mr. Kinney wants to see you.” She signed Brian's name while she said it. Everyone here knows a couple signs, and there's an interpreter I use when we have team meetings or if a client comes in and I want to make sure I get every single word, but for the most part I read lips and speak while I'm at Kinnetik. Honestly, that's fine with me. Makes me feel like the twelve years of speech therapy weren't a complete waste of time, and I still sign way more here, between the interpreter and the little bits everyone knows and Emily, when she deigns to speak to me, and Brian, on the very rare occasion I even see him during the day.

I'd heard rumors earlier in the day that Brian was in a rage about something, so I went up to his office pretty nervous, wondering if I was going to get fired or something. I don't really know why Brian hired me in the first place since it seems like all I do is piss him off. I opened his door a little. “Mr. Kinney?”

He waved me in with two fingers and then waited for the door to shut behind me. Not work stuff, he said.

Oh. Then hi, Brian, I fingerspelled.

Hello. He looked really tired, I realized. Not like Justin had looked before or anything, but still not great. He watched me as I approached his desk, then leaned forwards and said, really solemnly, I need you to take my husband.

Oh, wow, I said. What are you looking for in exchange? I don't have any goats, if that's what you're after.

He bit back a grin. Ha. I have to go to Chicago tonight because everyone is a fucking idiot. My flight's in an hour. It's just overnight, which would be...you know, annoying as fuck, but fine, except that Justin now hasn't slept at all in... He checked his watch. Fifty-one hours.

Not at all?

Brian sighed. No. He's at home right now lying in a dark room and is still awake as of a very bitchy text an hour ago.

He said he was going to take a ton of Benadryl.

He did, and it made him even more fucking tired but he still couldn't sleep and that...wasn't good. He shook his head a little. Yeah, that wasn't good for him. He shrugged.

Has this ever happened before?

Not really. He's had nightmares since...

Sure.

But this is different, this isn't anxiety, this is just his brain not fucking working.

So what do we do?

Well, eventually he falls asleep, but until then he's a fucking basket case. Which is why I'm arranging a little slumber party for him tonight. Daphne has work, Emily's busy with the baby, and...he wants you anyway, so. Take him tonight?

Sure, but...he can't come to my apartment.

What, roommates?

Yeah, of course I have roommates, I'm twenty-six and I live in Manhattan, I have five roommates.

You have a six-bedroom apartment?

I have a two-bedroom apartment.

Brian stared at me like he'd never heard of such a thing despite, you know, living in a two-bedroom. So you sleep—

That's not the problem, I said. The problem is there's no air conditioning and there's something growing on the bathroom ceiling and I have no fucking clue when we vacuumed last.

Do we not pay you? Brian said. The fuck is this?

I'm saving up.

Sure, if you live that long.

I shrugged. So far so good. Brian had no idea then that my mold-infested shithole was a palace compared to other places I'd lived. I didn't see any reason to tell him. It's not something I really talked about. Justin knew, but...Justin's got that face, I don't know. You end up telling him things. Brian has no such face.

Brian studied me for a second, then shook his head a little and mumbled something I couldn't see.

“What?”

Nothing, he said. Sorry. Okay. So you can't take Justin back to your death trap. Can you stay over at the apartment tonight? He really just...he needs someone there, and it's amazing he hasn't had a fucking seizure from being awake this long and I'm...he needs someone with him.

I said, Yeah, of course. I paused. Do you think he'll sleep tonight?

Brian blew air through his lips. He better.

**

I got to Justin's apartment at around ten, just before Brian had to leave for the airport. He opened the door and gave me a brace yourself face.

Still hasn't slept? I asked.

No, and he's...not pleasant.

What's going on?

He's mad at me for leaving. He's mad at his brain for not working. He's mad at fucking everything because he hasn't slept in sixty hours and doesn't know what the fuck's going on. He led me into the living room, where Justin was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Brian took a handful of his hair and tugged it up until Justin was looking at him. Look who's here. I have to go.

Fine. Go.

Justin.

Justin slumped back on the couch and glared at him. He was pale and sweaty and looked too tired to move, but he still glared at Brian like he was going to kill him.

Evan will take better care of you, Brian said. He's much nicer than I am.

I don't need to be taken care of, Justin said. I'm not sick.

Yeah, well. You look great.

I don't need a babysitter, he said. I just need to sleep.

Now, is that any way to talk about your boyfriend who's taking a night out of his busy life to watch your hostile little ass?

Justin kept glaring, but his expression softened a little, and when Brian crowded into his space Justin leaned forwards and let Brian put his arms around him.

Brian put both hands on Justin's cheeks and kissed him. Sleep, he signed over Justin's face, and Justin took a shaky breath in.

Brian messed up on my hair on his way out and said to me, small, Please watch him for seizures.

I will.

His meds for tonight and the morning are on the nightstand, divided up already. I fed and watered him already but try to make him have something in the morning. You have everything you need?

I'm fine.

Brian glanced at Justin. Uh, try not to hover, just—

I don't hover. He'll be fine.

Yeah.

You're going to miss your flight, I said. I'll call you in the morning.

He studied me for a long time, and Justin looked from one of us to the other, chewing on his nails. Finally Brian shrugged, sighed, and nudged Justin's foot around with his for a minute and then finally left, bitching about how he was going to miss his flight, and I sat down on the couch next to Justin. Hi, I said.

He rested his head on my shoulder and sighed.

I brought movies, I signed in front of him. Really boring movies. And no blood.

You can't bore me into sleeping, he said, sitting up. We tried that. My brain's just fucking broken.

Yeah, well, relaxing can't hurt.

Are all positive people this fucking zen?

I'm not zen, I said. I'm a carefully repressed ball of rage. Easily mistaken. Come on, documentary about vinyl siding or dramatization of a game show law suit from the 1950s?

Jesus.

I play to win, Taylor.

We got through all of the game show movie and half of the vinyl documentary before I started worrying that I was going to fall asleep out of boredom. Justin's hand had been bothering him a lot, but no major seizures. It was clear he felt like total garbage, though. He was still shaking like he was at the cafe, and even though it was warm in the apartment he kept bundling himself up in blankets, and whenever he tried to talk he'd get frustrated and give up halfway through when he forgot what he was going to say.

Time to lie down, I said, when his blinking was getting slower and slower. I made sure he had his meds and nudged him when he was nodding off while he brushed his teeth. You're so going to sleep, I said. Look at you.

You know what happens to people who get their hopes up.

No, what?

They end up awake and crying at four AM. His hand shook and he dropped the toothbrush. Fuck.

Come on.

Yeah. He started to steer me into the bedroom, but I stopped him, and he looked at me confused.

I rubbed the back of my neck. That's Brian's bed.

It's my bed too.

I tugged him towards the office, and he sighed and followed me. I pulled out the couch and Justin took sheets out of the closed and made the bed. We'd never spent a night together before. I'd slept over here a few times when the heat went out in my apartment, but it was always me in here, Brian and Justin in the bedroom.

We kissed for a while after we lay down, but then Justin dropped his head back on the pillow and said, I'm sorry. I'm too tired.

I know. Come here.

He took a shaky breath. I don't think I can sleep.

I pulled him into me, and he tucked his face into my neck and stretched his arm over my chest. It's hard to explain it, but I could just feel how miserable he was. I know that doesn't really make sense. But it was something physical, the way his body was tensed up and trembling and his breath was heavy and shallow against my skin, and I felt so goddamn protective of him, I can't even tell you.

Nobody's trusted me to take care of them for a really, really long time.

So I held him and I rolled us back and forth for a while until I felt some of his muscles relax, and then I lay on my back with him against me and felt his breath and waited for it to even out. I stayed awake for a long time, at least an hour, waiting for him to fall asleep, stroking his hair when he got agitated, but at some point I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up the darkness was a little different, black starting to turn into blue, and Justin wasn't there. I wrapped the top sheet around myself and went into the living room, where I found him was sitting on at the bay window with one of his knees hugged up to his chin and his other foot trailing on the floor, looking out at the sky.

I sat across from him in the window, stretching the sheet out so it covered him as well. He gave me this rueful little smile and rested his forehead against the window.

No luck? I asked.

He shook his head and took a slow breath in. I think it's the clouds.

Come again?

You see the clouds? he said, and there was something different in his eyes, some kind of desperation that hadn't been there before, and I felt like he wasn't fully sure that I was really there. God, I hated myself for falling asleep. Sometime in those hours he'd hit some kind of breaking point, and I'd left him alone.

I leaned forwards and put my hands around his ankles.

They're all heavy, Justin said, looking out the window. They're full of rain. I think it's the air pressure..you know, the pressure systems. So I think that if it rained I could sleep.

Okay, I said.

I could die.

You're not going to die.

People die from insomnia, Justin said, looking at me with those wild eyes shining. It's called fatal familial insomnia and you can't sleep and then you go crazy and you die. He watched me intently, and it felt like he was waiting for something, begging for an answer I didn't have.

Come here, I said, and he crawled across the window seat and into my arms. I wrapped him up in the sheet and ran my hands up and down his back while he shivered.

I don't know if I'm going to die, Justin said. I don't know why this is happening. He wrapped an arm around himself. Maybe I should get really drunk.

Yeah, I think you have enough seizure triggers onboard as it is.

Yeah.

How about some herbal tea?

He sighed and ran his hands down his face. Yeah, okay.

I kept my hand on his back on the way to the kitchen, and he switched on the light and we both stood there squinting and blinking for a minute. Justin sat at the small kitchen table and put his head in his hands while I started some water boiling and dug around his cabinets for anything that didn't have caffeine.

He was crying when I turned back around.

No, hey hey hey.

I'm sorry. You should just go, this is embarrassing, I'm embarrassing.

You've been awake for three days. You're not supposed to be okay.

I can't do this, he said. I can't do another day of this, I'm going to fucking...I don't know, I'm going to take a bottle of pills or something, I can't do this.

Okay, you're not doing that.

I know. I'm sorry. Fuck. This is fucking torture. I'm losing my fucking mind.

I poured him a cup of tea and squeezed his shoulders. I'll be right back, okay?

Yeah.

I went back to the office, turned the light on, found my phone, and called Brian. It took three rings for him to pick up, shirtless and squinty and pissed off. Fuck, he said. Where is he, what happened?

He's in the kitchen.

Tell me what's going on.

I took a deep breath. I think you need to come home.

**

Brian and I sat on the couch while Justin paced in front of us. Sunshine, sit, Brian said exhaustedly.

Justin shook his head, but he did stop walking, like he did every time he got some new terrible idea. Maybe we should go to Nova.

Brian said, Okay, it's eleven in the morning, first of all, and also the last thing your fucking brain needs right now is strobe lights.

It'll tire me out.

Being tired is not the problem. Sit.

I could die, Justin said to Brian.

You are not going to die.

People die from insomnia.

You do not have fatal familial insomnia, Brian said, who had clearly been through this speech before. You are not dying. You are freaking out because your brain isn't working correctly because it went through a trauma and it needs some fucking babying right now. So will you sit down.

Justin vibrated and bit down on his thumb. I keep seeing things moving.

Yes, you're hallucinating because you've been awake for three days. Sit. Down.

I finally said, He doesn't want to sit down.

Stay out of it, Brian said.

He feels like he's coming out of his skin, he can't be still right now. Look at him.

Justin said, Don't fight.

Nobody's fighting, Brian and I said together.

Justin pressed his palms to his eyes until one of his arms started shaking, and when he took his hands away his cheeks were streaked with tears. I can't do this, he said. God, why the fuck are you two even here? How do you fucking—

Stop, Brian said. None of that.

Brian got up and tried to put his arms around Justin, but Justin flinched away and held his hands up, and Brian held his up too.

I need help, Justin said, after a minute.

I know, Brian said simply, with this small smile, like this wasn't a big admission at all. Like Justin was telling him what color the sky was, or something.

Justin nodded desperately.

You stay here, okay? he said. Evan and I are going to go talk about the plan.

Well, I was pretty fucking excited to hear there was a plan. I followed Brian into the kitchen and said, So...

Brian ran his hand over his mouth. What the fuck are we going to do?

Oh.

He can't go on like this, Brian said. He doesn't...he's never asked for help like that.

I nodded.

Brian breathed out slowly. Fuck.

Do we just take him to the hospital?

He never sleeps in hospitals, there's no way. He can't sleep outside of his bed.

Shit. I bit my lip.

He noticed. What?

We slept in the office last night, I said.

He stared at me. Why?

You didn't say if I could sleep in your bed and I just...

He held up a hand to stop me Yeah, okay, that's fair. He chewed on his cheek, thinking. Okay, fuck it. Come on.

He led me back to the living room, where he snagged Justin by the sleeve and pulled him with us into the bedroom. He pulled Justin's shirt up over his head and pulled on something else that looked soft and too big for him. He nodded towards the bed.

I can't, Justin said.

You're just going to lie down, Brian said. You're not going to sleep. We're not even turning the lights off. You're just going to lie down with us and close your eyes so you don't hallucinate something and jump off the fucking building. And you're shivering, don't the covers look nice?

He nodded, slowly.

Come on, love.

Justin lay down on one side of the bed, but Brian nudged him towards the middle and then nodded to me, and we got into the bed on either side of him. He wouldn't keep his eyes shut and he kept tossing around, but Brian just rested his hand on his chest and otherwise ignored him. So...do you have any plans this weekend? he asked me.

Um...not really, I said.

Brian fixed me with a long look and said, “Talk.”

“Oh, um...” I glanced at Justin, the back at Brian. I was going to go grocery shopping tomorrow. And I need to buy a train ticket, I want to go to Boston next month.

Is that where you're from?

I shook my head. I'm from LA.

Oh, I didn't know that. He loves LA.

Yeah, not me.

When'd you come here?

When I was sixteen, after I dropped out.

Why New York?

I shrugged. As far away as I could get. How'd you two end up here?

Deaf community's a lot bigger here than in Pittsburgh, Brian said. So's the art scene. And advertising. Basically we'd outgrown Pittsburgh. You like it here?

I don't really think about it much, I said. It's just...where I am. There are some bad memories. I paused. What about you?

Yeah, I like it. Better than fucking Pittsburgh, anyway. What's your favorite place in the city?

It was weird, having a conversation with Brian like this. Having him ask me more questions in five minutes than he had the entire time I'd known him. And I knew he was just creating some sort of backdrop for Justin, who'd watch a line or two of our conversation, drift out, drift back in, but...still.

Maybe the highline? I said.

He nodded and stretched out, casually smoothing a hand over Justin's hair. Highline's great. I like Battery Park, seeing the boats.

My friend works on one of the ships down there, I said.

The tour boats?

Yeah, it's like a working ship? I don't know all the boat words, but you have to like haul the ropes and everything to make it run. Like an actual boat. There's no motor or anything. And they get the tourists to help run it.

That's really cool. We should take him, he likes boats. He gets seasick, though. Ever since he lost his hearing he's had issues with that.

How long ago was that?

Brian scratched his head. That'd have been...Jesus, about seven years now, it started. Can't believe it's been that long.

It's funny, that you had no idea this would be your life.

Tell me about it.

Well, you sign really well, I said. Not that I've been doing it that much longer than you have.

Thanks. Did you see they're doing an Amber Adams show at MoMa?

I don't think I know her.

Oh, she's good. Tons of color in her paintings, but I really like her sketches. I'm going to go with him when he's feeling better, you want to come?

Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks.

Brian started to say something else, and then he looked down and smiled, then gave me a small nod.

Justin was asleep.

He held his fist up over Justin's head, I grinned and tapped mine against it, and we so, so carefully lay down, pressed against either side of him. I looked out the window and noticed, right before I fell asleep, that it had started to rain.

None of us moved for a very long time.