“What are you doing here?”

“You mean you haven’t heard?”

“It’s the last day of the rest of your life.”

“Did I die?”

“No. But you’ll wish you had. You’re thirty.”

*****

Forty six. Forty fucking six. He was supposed to be dead by thirty. He almost was at thirty five.

But here he was, turning forty six.

Justin was right -- he was entering the back half of his forties. And he wasn't too sure how he felt about that.

But he did know that he didn't want anyone to make a big deal about it.

Michael would probably call him and sing to him -- off-key, just like he did every year. Debbie would too. Michael got it honest.

Never mind the fact that he'd just seen Michael the week before, and his oldest and dearest friend had plenty of opportunity to wish him a happy birthday in person. He would still call. There was no escaping it. And there never would be.

They’d probably both be eighty years old, and Michael would still be calling to sing, just like he had every year since they were teenagers. Although the thought of being an octogenarian made Brian shudder.

At least no one was throwing him a death day party this year. Or they’d better not be.

It was still enough to make him want to pull the duvet over his head and stay in bed all day, pretending this day wasn’t even happening. But that wasn’t really an option. He’d have to face it eventually. All he could do was try to keep it as low-key as possible. Just like any other day.

One good thing was that Justin understood why Brian wasn’t fond of celebrating his birthday. The day that Brian was born was also the day that Justin almost died. And while he’d come a long way in dealing with that memory and the ghost of his actions past, it still wasn’t exactly something he cared to think about unless absolutely necessary. His birthday, however, always reminded him.

He knew he needed to start thinking of it as the day that Justin lived -- because he did. And, in December, he’d lived again. Brian was thankful for that, but it was still hard to get through this particular day, knowing how close he’d come to losing Justin before he’d even had the balls to tell him that he loved him.

He didn’t mind celebrating Justin’s birthday -- in fact, he’d come to love doing that -- but Brian himself would still be much happier having his own birthday completely overlooked.

However, this year, Brian didn’t even have the luxury of having his birthday be on a weekday so he could have the convenient excuse of “I have to work” or “Business doesn’t stop just because I was born.” It was a Saturday. Although he supposed that didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t still try to use work as an excuse. He was a workaholic, after all, and that was well known. Although Justin had been pretty well attuned as of late to when Brian was working too much, and he hadn’t been anywhere near as willing to allow it to go on unabated.

All he needed was a few hours, though. Just enough distraction to have the day feel like any other day.

Justin was asleep until Brian made a move to roll himself over onto his back so he could get out of bed, and then Justin was rolling over too, toward Brian, so he could give him a kiss.

“Happy birthday,” Justin said, smiling sleepily. Brian tried to smile back. “I know, I know. You don’t want it to be a big thing.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Brian pulled himself up so that he was sitting up a little more, noticing that he felt stiff and sore -- apparently his trip to Pittsburgh was still working on catching up with him. “But thanks. Just don’t remind me how old I am.”

Justin laughed. “Don’t worry. I know you’re sensitive about your age, old man.”

Brian rolled his eyes and pushed his legs over the side of the bed, then hoisted himself out of bed and into his wheelchair. “Laugh all you want, but you’ll be 46 someday too.”

“Hey, you said it, not me. And besides, when I’m 46, you’ll be--”

“Don’t even say it.”

Brian could hear Justin laughing behind him as he closed the door to the bathroom and proceeded to take a piss. For some reason, today, the whole process felt a lot more annoying and inconvenient. Probably just general irritation at being one year older. He’d just finished and was working on stripping his pajamas off so he could take a shower, when Justin came barging into the bathroom.

“Can’t a guy get a little privacy?” Brian groused, as Justin fit himself into the space between Brian and the toilet.

“Had to piss.” Justin shrugged.

“And that’s what the half bath by the guest bedroom is for.”

Justin finished and turned to face Brian. “Yeah, but the guest bedroom doesn’t have you.” He traced his finger down Brian’s bare chest and bent down to capture Brian’s lips in a kiss that went on for much longer than was Justin’s usual morning style. He had his hands on Brian’s shoulders and was pushing him back against the wall, either accidentally or on purpose, Brian wasn’t sure which. Justin sucked Brian’s bottom lip as he pulled away, then moved to straddle Brian’s lap in his chair, reaching down to lock the brakes in one smooth maneuver.

“Do you seriously have no idea how beautiful and sexy I think you are?” Justin whispered suggestively in Brian’s ear before kissing him behind it, then continuing down, planting one kiss after another down the side of Brian’s neck. “I don’t care if you’re 29, 39, 46, or 79 -- you’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. You always will be.”

Words that had been spoken long ago echoed in Brian’s head: You will always be young and you will always be beautiful. You’re Brian Kinney for fuck’s sake!

Justin hadn’t been there to hear Michael speak those words -- the first time, when they’d been what had convinced him to go to Justin’s prom, or the second time, after Justin had left for New York -- but he was obviously of the same mind.

Justin had his hands pressed into the wall on either side of Brian’s head as he moved back up to cover Brian’s lips with his own, his tongue pressing into Brian’s mouth as Brian’s tongue moved of its own volition to press back.

What followed was a hot-and-heavy makeout session that was clearly intended just for Brian. Perhaps a new version of a birthday blow job.

Justin followed Brian into the shower as well, practically pinning him against the wall again. This time, the throes of passion led them to an in-shower fuck as the warm water ran down both of their bodies.

It took Brian longer to get dressed compared to Justin, as it always did, and by the time he made it into their living area, he found Justin in the kitchen making breakfast.

“French toast,” Justin said as he carefully flipped a slice with the spatula. “I got that low-carb bread you like from the health food store. And fruit instead of syrup.”

Brian’s coffee mug was already sitting on the table, with the sugar shaker alongside it. Brian was well aware that he was quite the contradiction -- unwilling to eat syrup, yet he was about to pour several teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. It was all about balance, he supposed.

“You’re making a big deal out of this,” Brian said, stirring the sugar into his coffee.

“What?”

“My birthday.”

“So now I can’t make my husband breakfast?” Justin turned around and gave Brian his best dewy-eyed innocent look. Christ, he was even better at that than Michael.

“Not on my birthday, no. Looks suspicious.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing suspicious about my cooking you breakfast.” He plated up the french toast and brought the two plates over to the table, one at a time. “I’ve done it several times in the last few weeks, in case you’ve forgotten. And I make our dinner most nights too. So I daresay this isn’t unusual.”

“I bet you have other things planned though. Birthday things.” Even though Brian knew Justin understood his desire to keep his birthday low-key, he also knew that it was usually difficult for Justin to pull that off, and he would, more often than not, have at least one or two things planned. They were never anything huge -- usually just an evening out, or a new sex toy they could play with. But Brian had come to expect it and knew it was probably happening, no matter how much Justin tried to play coy.

As predicted, Michael called right after breakfast, already singing before Brian even managed to say hello. Debbie’s call didn’t come until after lunch, because she’d worked the graveyard shift at the diner the night before, but it was every bit as grating as it always had been -- and yet, at the same time, full of love.

“Happy birthday, kiddo,” she said, once she’d finished singing. “Forty fuckin’ six. Can you believe it?”

“No, and I don’t need any reminders.”

“Hell, we’re all getting older… You’re not immune, as much as you might like to think so.”

“Not to worry, I gave up on that a long time ago.”

“I’m proud of you, kiddo. I hope you know that.”

“Thanks, mom.” Brian smiled to himself as he shuffled some of the papers on his desk, part of the work he was busying himself with in order to distract from what day it was. “One question, though...at what point does the statute of limitations run out on you calling me ‘kiddo?’”

“Never. You’ll always be a kid to me -- that smart-mouthed, skinny kid who followed Michael home from school one day and never left.”

“I thought you said I was a bad influence.”

“Sometimes you were, and you fuckin’ know it. Don’t think I don’t know you two used to smoke pot in the backyard while I was at work. And don’t get me started on the day you both came home from school drunk off your asses. But I also knew how much you two needed each other. You’re brothers. My two sons. Anyway, I’ll let you go before I get too sappy. I just wanted you to know how proud I am to think of you as my own. Love you, kiddo. Be good to Sunshine.”

“I will, Deb. Love you too.”

As Brian hung up the phone, he was reminded of how much he’d rather count Debbie Novotny as his mother than Joan Kinney. After all, Debbie had done more for him from the age of fourteen on than Joan had done the entire previous decade and a half.

Brian was a little surprised at how long Justin let him keep working in the office without even coming in to check on him. Maybe he sensed how much Brian needed the distraction on this particular day.

It was late afternoon before Justin came in and stood behind Brian, rubbing his shoulders and commenting on the artwork for the GoodLife Connection ad.

“Is that Alison?”

“Yeah. You should see some of the things these people are working on. It’s fucking amazing. I love going over there for meetings, just because I can’t wait to see what new thing they want me to promote.”

“Think you’ll be ready to take a break around five?” Justin’s fingers and thumbs were kneading at the knots that seemed to be a permanent feature of Brian’s shoulders at this point, now that his arms had effectively become his legs. Brian could tell how much stronger Justin’s right hand was getting, even though it still didn’t quite do what Justin wanted it to do.

“Mmm…” Brian leaned into Justin’s touch and closed his eyes. “What’s at five?”

“I thought we’d go out for dinner with Rob and Adam. Maybe go to Monetti’s.”

That, he could agree to. Just a simple dinner with friends. No muss, no fuss.

Brian wrapped up what he was working on a few minutes before five, anticipating that Rob and Adam would be coming by the apartment before they headed over, since they had either a long subway ride or a long cab ride to get to Chelsea from Brooklyn, and it was always a good idea to take a bathroom break before heading over to Monetti’s. Brian knew that, and Rob knew it too. So Brian was a little surprised when Justin was ready to walk out the door, and Rob and Adam hadn’t yet shown up.

“Are you ready to go?” Justin asked, his left hand resting on the door handle.

“Yeah, but aren’t Rob and Adam meeting us here?”

“They’re meeting us at the restaurant.”

Brian wanted to question that, but he didn’t. Rob was a big boy and he could handle himself. They’d been there before, and Rob knew what he was getting into. Maybe they’d been planning on going somewhere else beforehand, so it didn’t matter. Regardless, it wasn’t his issue to worry about.

It was a beautiful, sunny day in the city, and the sidewalks were busy as Brian and Justin made their way to the restaurant. As they passed under the High Line, they could see lots of people out for a summer stroll with their families or their significant others. Justin held Brian’s hand for part of the way, until it got hard to steer one-handed and Brian had to let go before he ended up running into someone.

When they got to the entrance to Monetti’s, Brian was surprised to see that the step at the front door had been replaced with a ramp.

“When did this happen?” he asked, confused at the sudden change.

Justin simply shrugged and kept walking, leading the way up the ramp and to the door. “I don’t know,” he said, holding the door open for Brian. “Last week, maybe?”

Nick met them at the door and led them to a table where Rob and Adam were already waiting.

Brian looked over his shoulder at Nick as the man he’d come to think of as a friend over the last several years was laying menus out in front of them. “When did you have a ramp installed?” Brian asked. “How? I know you’d been wanting to for a while but it just wasn’t in the cards, financially.”

“Well, you have a pretty awesome husband, that’s how. And there’s more. The ramp is really the smallest part of this project.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Brian was confused now. He looked around the table at Justin, Rob, and Adam, who were all grinning. They had obviously all been in on this secret, whatever it was.

“That storage closet in the hallway by the bathrooms is now a fully accessible restroom,” Nick said. “And Justin paid for it all, as a birthday gift for you.”

“But how? Where did you get the money to do all of this?” Brian’s gaze settled on Justin, whose sunshine smile was fully illuminated, its brightness spreading to his beautiful blue eyes, which were sparkling in the warm light of the restaurant.

“Well, since you never let me pay for much of anything, and you never have… I've got a lot of money saved up.”

“But what about… How did you...”

“I thought of everything, I promise.” Justin cut him off mid-question. “I had Ted’s help. All of the bases were covered. You know how he is.”

Brian did know exactly how Theodore was. It was why he was in charge of managing the manager of his own little foray into renovation. So he let that drop and tried not to micromanage his own birthday gift.

“I… I don't know what to say. Other than thank you. This is amazing.” Amazing wasn’t even the right word to describe what Brian thought about what Justin had done. Brian worked with words all day long -- finding the right one to say exactly what he wanted to say, usually with aplomb -- but this time, he was speechless. “I don’t deserve this,” he said. What he really meant was, ‘I don’t deserve you.’

Old habits, again.

“You do deserve it,” Justin said, squeezing Brian’s hand. “Besides, I thought it would be really nice to be able to come here and hang out for a few hours and not have to worry about anything. I know it stresses you out to have to rush home. And this helps Nick out, too. Now he can say yes to anyone who asks if his restaurant is accessible.”

Brian wasn’t sure how to respond. He was floored, and certainly surprised, and at the same time so proud of his husband’s big heart. Most of all, he was amazed that Justin had apparently pulled all of this off, from start to finish, on his own, and managed to keep it a secret.

“I feel like it’s my birthday, too,” Nick said. “I’m so grateful to Justin for taking care of all of this for me, and making sure everything was done right. Hopefully it’ll be a benefit to the restaurant too.”

“Oh I’m sure it will,” Rob chimed in. “I know a lot of people who would love to be able to go out for a good meal more often, but their options are limited. This is really helpful to so many people. Too often business owners just aren’t thinking about accessibility. It’s really frustrating. Word will get around when you’re accommodating and you treat people well. And I know you do.”

Nick served them personally that night -- from the wine all the way to the dessert. He’d even put candles in the lemon cake -- although not 46, since he didn’t want to set his restaurant on fire, he joked. Justin’s hand kept reaching for Brian’s underneath the table, and every time it did, they’d share a smile -- one that said Justin understood every emotion Brian was feeling, even the ones he himself couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Nick refused to let anyone pay for any aspect of the meal, insisting that it was the least he could do after all Justin had done for him.

After dinner, they went back to the apartment and drank a little more, until Rob and Adam had to go because their babysitter had a curfew.

Once Brian and Justin were alone, the celebration continued, much in the way one might expect a celebration between Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor to be -- one that took place primarily in the bedroom.

“Thanks again,” Brian said quietly, as they lay together in their bed, their skin still damp from the shower. He could tell that Justin was almost asleep alongside him. “That was a damn good birthday surprise.”

“I’m glad,” Justin said, his words made a little less than clear by the fatigue that seemed to be quickly descending upon him. His eyelids were already drifting closed. “I meant what I said earlier. You deserve it. You deserve everything.” The final word dissolved into a long exhalation as Justin’s body softened against Brian’s and he drifted off to sleep.

Those words were still so hard to hear. So hard to feel. So hard to believe. But he was trying. He really was.

He could hear Rochelle’s voice in his head, imploring him to let himself feel it. That there was no need to continue punishing himself for his past transgressions. Especially those that weren’t his fault. The transgression of his own birth being the biggest one of all.

Brian wrapped his arm more tightly around Justin and allowed his own eyes to close. For 29 years, he’d only seen his birthday as the anniversary of the day he’d come into the world, unwanted and unwelcome. Then, for 16 more, it had been the day he’d nearly lost someone very important to him, whose true importance, at that point, he had yet to fully realize.

This year, though, there was another shift occurring. One that was moving him more toward peace.

He was another year older. But maybe that wasn’t so bad, if it meant he got to spend one more year with Justin. The rest of his years with Justin.

Making new memories.

Brian spent most of the next several days on the phone, thankful that Justin was spending a lot of time in his studio now, because the actual renovation process had begun on the house in Pittsburgh and there were a shit ton of things that needed his input and approval. Every time his phone rang, it seemed like it was either Ted or Eric, the project manager Ted had hired, with another question that they wanted to ask before they got too committed to doing something one way or another.

Brian had finally seen the house for the first time in person during his recent trip to Pittsburgh, spending almost an entire day going over plans and picking out fixtures and trims and colors and thinking that this was an even bigger process than he’d ever dreamed it would be. It wasn’t like when he’d renovated the loft, piece by piece, each time he got a bonus from Marty Ryder. This was going to be happening all at once, and it was a major overhaul.

Jennifer had been right that the rooms were large, but to do what they needed to do with the bathroom in order to make it ADA compliant, they were going to have to take a significant portion of the third bedroom and turn it into part of the bathroom. And while they were doing that, Brian figured, they might as well make it even bigger than required and add a walk-in jacuzzi tub, big enough for two. It would be a custom job, but he could afford it, and he was already looking forward to spending time in it -- with Justin, of course -- at the end of a long workday at the Pittsburgh office.

The rest of the bedroom they were taking over would be used to add on to the closet in the master bedroom, turning it into something they could use to lock up things that they wanted to leave at the house but didn’t want temporary rental guests to have access to.

The kitchen was going to be a major project as well -- lowering the row of upper cabinets, removing some of the lower ones for better access to the sink and countertop from a wheelchair, and replacing the ancient appliances that Brian was wondering how on earth they were still functioning, since they appeared to be straight out of the 1960s.

He’d picked out the hardwood floors that would go in throughout the entire house, and the tile for the kitchen and the bathroom, and he’d even picked out his own paint colors, despite the fact that Ted said Emmett was dying to do the decorating. Since Brian didn’t want a bright pink accent wall in the living room, he figured he’d better do it himself.

They’d used a temporary ramp over the two steps at the back so he could get into the house, since it would be a while before the longer ramps at the front and the back were built and ready. Brian didn’t want it to be a rush job -- he wanted everything to look good. Like it belonged.

Once he’d seen the house in person, he’d found he was even more excited about it than he ever thought he would be, mostly because he couldn’t wait to see the look on Justin’s face when he saw it in person. For that, though, he’d have to wait until December.

Four days after Brian’s birthday, everything shifted once again, just as it always had for the past eleven years, when a different anniversary came around. One that brought with it a strange mixture of feelings and emotions. It was June 21st, the day Brian’s life had changed forever. The day that most of what he’d known for 35 years floated off into oblivion, never to be seen again, leaving him to figure out who the fuck he was now and what all of this meant. It had been a lot to figure out. Sometimes he still wasn’t sure he had it completely figured out, but he had certainly made a lot of progress since then. He was much more secure in who he was in the world -- even more so now than he had been before the accident.

He supposed that was all he could really ask for.

But the actual day was still a weird day, and it probably always would be. A day of what-ifs and unanswered questions.

According to Rob, it was a day when Brian needed to surround himself with people he loves, who remind him of how fortunate he is, to keep from getting dragged down into the unknowns.

He’d unwittingly done that on the first anniversary of his accident -- the day he proposed to Justin for the second time. And, ever since then -- since meeting Rob -- he’d done it with more purpose. Going up to Central Park with Justin. Spending time with Gus, either in New York or Toronto. Being with people who understood why his mood might turn on a dime that day, and that it was okay. It was allowed.

He was allowed to feel whatever he felt and he didn’t need to hide it or mask it or pretend it wasn’t happening. His past self would have never gone for that, but his present self really needed the latitude.

Brian was lying in bed, awake, trying to figure out how in the hell it had been eleven years already, when Justin began to stir next to him.

Justin rolled over, tucking himself closely into Brian's side, his arm over Brian's body, pulling himself in even closer. Justin kissed his chest, then looked up at him and smiled.

“Happy life day,” Justin said as he brought his head to rest on Brian’s chest.

“What does that mean?” Brian’s voice was gravelly with sleep and the emotions that had already been working their way to the surface as he lay there in the darkness, the sun having not made its way over the horizon quite yet.

“It’s the day that you lived.”

Justin’s words took Brian back to that rural two-lane road in West Virginia, but not at the time Justin was referencing. This was more recent. Last week. When Brian chose to return to the spot where the road took a turn and his entire life had taken an unexpected one as a result, this time in search of closure. Hoping maybe that if he saw it -- sat there in that very spot and thought about it -- perhaps this memory would stop haunting his dreams as well.

He’d been sitting in his office in the old converted bathhouse that became Kinnetik when he’d made the decision to go, but something made him take a detour on his way back to his rental car. A detour that led him to Red Cape Comics. When he told Michael where he was going, Michael refused to let him go alone and insisted on driving him. They’d had a short argument about it, but Brian had ultimately let Michael win.

“I'm not going to repeat history,” Brian had told him. But he knew that wasn't really what Michael was worried about.

In the end, Brian had been glad Michael did the driving, because he had a lot to think about.

Thirty minutes after locking up the comic book store, Michael and Brian were sitting in Ben’s Prius at the end of someone’s long, gravel driveway, beside an oak tree with a scar on the trunk.

“Do you remember it?” Michael had asked, his voice so soft Brian barely heard him, after a few long minutes of silence. “When it happened.” They had never talked about this before.

“I didn’t think I did, but I’ve dreamed about it. So maybe. Somewhere in my subconscious I do, I guess.”

“Christ… I can’t imagine.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to.” Brian stayed quiet for a few more beats. He wished he had a joint to smoke. It might help him make sense of what was running through his head. “You know, I used to think that this was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to me. I used to wish for ways I could go back in time and change something. Make it not happen. But now, I’m not so sure.”

Michael hadn’t said anything. In his peripheral vision, Brian had seen his best friend’s dark brown eyes looking at him. Studying him. Trying to decide how to proceed. Knowing that this metaphorical road was riddled with landmines.

“I think I’m kind of at peace with it now,” Brian remembered saying. He’d still been looking at the tree. Even with the scar, the tree was still surviving. It had gone on. Much like he had. “Life handed me this, and it sucked, and it hasn’t been easy. Not by any means. It’s been fucking hard. But if this hadn’t happened, there are some important people in my life I probably wouldn’t have met. Maybe I wouldn’t be in New York with Justin. Maybe we wouldn’t be married. If I take this one bad thing back, I have to take back the good things that happened after it too.”

Brian clearly remembered Justin saying those words to him not that long ago. Only that time it was about the night Justin was bashed. But this situation was so much the same. Turning back time might keep something awful from happening, but at what cost? What else would have to be given up in the process?

Michael’s only response had been to nod his head and lay his right hand over Brian’s left that rested idly on his thigh. He knew. He knew just how much the instant that tree got that scar and Brian’s spine shattered had transformed Brian’s life. For good and for bad. Precipitated a rebirth, as Justin had so eloquently put it.

Justin’s voice brought Brian back to the present.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. The fingers of his left hand were tracing random patterns over Brian’s chest.

It took Brian a few moments to formulate his response.

“That I’m thankful for everything that brought me here,” he said, the mixture of emotions he was feeling coming through in his voice as it broke just a little. “Even when it was hard. And there’s not a damn thing I would change.”

Justin smiled softly and took Brian’s hand in his.

“Me either.”

They got through the day together -- Justin supporting Brian, letting him feel what he felt. For some reason, this year it was different. Brian couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was or how he felt, but this year, the undercurrent of gratitude felt stronger than ever. Uncovering more of the blessings that this traumatic event that changed him fundamentally as a person had brought along with it.

He couldn’t change it. He couldn’t go back in time to keep it from happening. And at this point, he didn’t think he would, even if given the opportunity.

He wondered if Justin felt the same about everything that had happened to him.

For Brian and Justin, that summer was a time to grab life by the tail and hold on tight, letting it take them wherever it saw fit. Getting back to “normal,” but at the same time, changing that normal. Spending less time buried in work, and more time with each other. Surprising each other with impromptu lunch dates, taking walks through the city, through neighborhoods and down streets that, for whatever reason, they’d never really explored before. Just taking the time to breathe each other in. Making those new memories good ones.

They even took a vacation -- their first one in years -- spending two weeks on a yacht in the Mediterranean, exploring all that Italy and Greece had to offer. But mostly, just enjoying each other. Sharing the experience. Drinking it all in.

Brian became increasingly glad he’d given Ted the clearance to hire someone to manage the construction project on the house, because he knew it was saving him a lot of headache and stress that he really just wasn’t interested in taking on.

One task he couldn’t delegate, though, was finding an office space for the NYC branch of Kinnetik to operate from. Cynthia moved to the city in July, running the New York portion of the business while Brian and Justin were off enjoying Europe. Brian had to admit that it was nice to not have every single task for his New York clients falling to him in some way -- Cynthia had been right, it was too much for one person to handle. They looked at dozens of places and nearly wore out their real estate broker before they finally found one that met their requirements. Eventually, he signed a lease on a space near Rob’s office, and he and Cynthia would be moving their two-man operation out of his home office and into a place that felt a little more official come September. In late August, they hired a graphic artist and a copywriter, and Kinnetik NYC was born.

Back in June, Justin had taken a full-time position as an elementary school art teacher, which he’d start in the fall. He had already thanked Brian on multiple occasions for pushing him to finally finish his college degree more than five years ago, because that was what was giving him the freedom to accept this new opportunity that had come his way, seemingly by chance. Although, given the way Justin’s eyes lit up and his entire disposition changed when he talked about the kids and how it made him feel to show other people how to create, Brian had to wonder if perhaps the universe had this planned all along.

Come fall, their entire routine would change, maybe for good, when Justin started his new teaching job and Brian was actually going in to a physical office every day for the first time in ten years. Another new “normal.” But they were both ready for change. Embracing it with open arms, and seeing what would come along with it.

When Justin got the call about the show, it felt like deja vu.

They’d been sitting on the sofa, watching a movie together, sharing a bottle of wine that a client had given to Brian as a thank you gift, when Justin’s phone rang. It was his agent, whom Brian knew Justin had barely talked to in the last several months. In fact, Justin had recently told Brian that he felt like he didn’t have much need for her anymore, because his focus with his art was on creating it for himself, as an outlet. A release. He didn’t really care if he never sold another piece of art again. So they were sort of on “pause” at the moment. But she’d called him occasionally to check in and see how he was doing. Justin said she never tried to pressure him into trying to do something he wasn’t ready to do, and that he appreciated that. Brian appreciated it too. From what Justin had said, it sounded like her calls were focused more on the friendship they’d built over the years than on actual business.

So when she called at 8 p.m. on a Monday night, Brian assumed this call would be the same -- just a casual conversation between two business associates who had become friends. He’d hear half of the brief conversation, and then he and Justin would be back to their wine and their movie, spending the evening with each other.

But the half of the conversation that Brian heard went quite a bit differently than he’d anticipated.

“Hey Steph, what’s up?”

…

“Oh, not much, just watching a movie with Brian.”

…

“What? You’re kidding.”

…

“I don’t know, I mean… What are they expecting? I’m getting ready to start my new teaching job next week and I’m not sure I’ll have much time.”

…

“Well, I do have quite a bit at my studio that’s already done. As long as they don’t have any specific requests, I guess that could work.”

…

“Sure, let’s talk more tomorrow. Sounds good. Thanks. Bye, Steph.”

When Justin hung up the phone, the expression on his face was one of disbelief, mixed with the tiniest hint of self doubt.

“What was that about?” Brian reached for Justin’s right hand and took it in his own, massaging it gently with his thumbs in the way he often did whenever they were just sitting and relaxing.

“Steph said she got a call from the Michael Paige Gallery. One of their people heard my story and had seen one of the paintings I did for that display at the coffee shop. They noticed it was new, and they got curious about how I was continuing to work, so they looked me up and reached out to her. They want to feature some of my new work in a show.”

At the time, Justin hadn’t been sure he was going to do it. And while Brian really wanted Justin to do it, he also didn’t want to be the one pushing Justin to do something he didn’t feel ready to do. So he’d let Steph do the pushing.

And soon, the show was scheduled.

And just like last time, they'd celebrated with a good fuck.

Brian Kinney’s definition of a good fuck was quite a bit different now than it once had been.

No longer was it hard and fast or bent over the table or the back of the couch or against the wall of a bathroom stall or the back room at Babylon. No longer could he do it whenever, wherever, with minimal thought or preparation. Now, it took a lot more preparation. More care.

But even though it was different, in ways he never could have imagined, it was still so good.

He wasn’t sure why it had taken him until he got to rehab to begin to consider what else might have gone along with being paralyzed from the waist down. That there might be more to this than just paralyzed legs and an inability to walk. That there might have been other inabilities as well.

But he really hadn’t thought about it until it was brought up by someone else at rehab. And when it was, things suddenly got a whole lot worse.

Suddenly, he’d lost the release he’d had since he was a teenager. The one he’d depended on.

And it didn’t matter how many people told him that his body would create new neurological pathways to pleasure. New erogenous zones. That there were still ways to get an erection. That he could still draw physical pleasure from sex, just in a different way -- from touch in the areas that he could feel, and from watching his partner. Pleasing his partner.

The people who told him those things didn’t know Brian Kinney.

For Brian Kinney, sex was primal. A basic need. One that needed to be tended to daily, often multiple times a day.

He’d experimented a few times in rehab. Touching himself. Thinking about fucking someone. Mostly Justin. Trying to see if he could make himself hard. But at that point, nothing worked. The system was entirely offline.

That changed a little bit once his body was out of the spinal shock phase and his reflexes came back online, but it didn’t change to the degree he was hoping it would. The normal things that would get him aroused simply weren’t. The only thing that worked was touch. Touch that he couldn’t feel.

The first time he’d done that and gotten what he wanted, he cried. But they weren’t tears of joy. They were tears of anger. Tears of despair. Mourning what he’d lost.

He’d already lost so much. Did he have to lose this, too?

He wondered if anyone would want him anymore. If anyone would be willing to touch him. To be with him in that way.

No longer was he the Stud of Liberty Avenue, sucking and fucking at the club almost every night. Instead, he was left wondering what there was left for him. How to navigate this new life.

Life without the use of his legs. Life without the emotional release he’d always gotten from sex.

He’d buried all of his negative emotions in it for two decades at that point. And when he left rehab, he was carrying a shitload of negative emotions with nowhere to put them and no way to process them.

In the end, it took Justin to show him how. To help pull him out of the dark days that seemed like they had no end. To love him unconditionally, no matter what his body did or didn’t do. To always be satisfied with whatever he could do, with no expectations or preconceived notions. To show him that positive emotions like love and acceptance and belonging were what being intimate with each other was really about, and how much better those feelings made it.

Justin had given him what he’d thought no one would.

Grace.

Grace he often struggled to feel like he deserved. But always, grace.

It had taken a lot of experimentation -- and a lot of patience -- to find what worked. But eventually, they did. They both did.

And through the process, there was hope. Even when Brian struggled to see the bright side, Justin always had hope.

Brian still remembered the last night he spent in his apartment in the suburbs, right before he moved to New York. All of the emotions that had been rushing through him that night after saying goodbye to the people he thought of as family, and Justin trying to help him work out his stress through physical pleasure. Brian had tried to stop him, knowing that it wouldn’t work, but Justin wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He’d tried to just relax and let go, like Justin kept urging him to, but he couldn’t. Not really. He’d kept imagining how good it would have felt to be able to pound out all of this sadness and frustration with thrust after thrust, but he couldn’t do that anymore, and the reminder, instead of making him feel better, had made him feel worse. He’d watched Justin bring himself to climax, and at the same time, had watched himself go soft, the way that he knew he would. He could see the physical evidence of Justin’s release against his leg, but he couldn’t feel it. And that had been all he could stand.

So he’d stopped Justin from going any further. Told him no. Left Justin confused and frustrated, and himself sad and embarrassed, on top of everything else he’d already been feeling that Justin was trying to fix. He’d cried himself to sleep that night, with Justin’s arms around him and Justin’s warm body pressed against his back, wondering if he was ever going to figure out how to deal with all of the shit that kept crashing down on top of him, crushing him beneath its weight.

In the end, that had taken Justin too. To show him that he hadn’t made a mistake in moving to New York. To show him that he could figure out to navigate this new life. And to encourage him to talk to someone when he was having trouble doing that.

He’d needed to let go of the baggage that was weighing him down, so they could find their connection again. Funny how that theme had come back around more recently as well, in a slightly different way.

Now, it felt just as good to be with Justin -- to fuck Justin -- than Brian could ever remember it being. Perhaps some of that was owed to the time that had gone by since he’d had sex as an able bodied person, with parts that worked completely and had full sensation. But it really didn’t matter. All that mattered was now.

Rob would have been proud of that thought. He was the one who was always trying to get Brian to live in the present moment.

The present moment was pretty damn good.

Brian wasn’t sure that Justin had any idea just how great of a gift the chair that had become known as their “sex chair” had been, with its gliding movement that mimicked the thrust that Brian could no longer do with his body alone. How freeing it felt to be able to do that again, long after Brian had given up hope of having sex in any position that wasn’t mostly passive for him. To be able to assume a more active role again. To be able to do more of what Justin liked. What Justin craved. What Justin deserved to have from his husband.

Justin had given Brian back control, and along with it, a key part of his identity that he’d been without since the day his Corvette crashed into that tree in West Virginia.

Before the day Justin surprised him with that chair, their options, while much wider than they once had been, due in large part to Justin’s creativity and sense of adventure, had still been limited by sheer physical ability. But now, there really wasn’t much they couldn’t do.

Even after years of experience, Brian felt like he’d never managed to make his entrance into their bed very sexy, though it hadn’t been for a lack of trying. Getting his butt from one place to another was a pretty well-practiced, smooth maneuver now, but he still hadn’t found a way to pull his legs up onto the bed without feeling like he was dragging the rest of himself up to meet his torso. But getting onto his sex chair felt much slicker and sexier.

The night Justin’s art show was scheduled and made official, they’d started in the living room, on the sofa -- Justin straddling Brian as they kissed each other up and down, peeling one another’s shirts off. Brian was up for anything -- this was a celebration for Justin, so it was his night, and Brian let him lead.

So when Justin said, “Fuck me,” Brian knew exactly what that meant. Mostly, that the sofa wasn’t going to work.

He gave Justin a ride into the bedroom, while Justin continued running his hands up and down Brian’s bare chest, kissing him all over -- the sensation produced by that a large enough distraction that Brian was glad that he could find his way to the bedroom with his eyes closed, because he was doing it right then.

Justin only stopped kissing Brian long enough for him to get himself from one chair to the other, before he was licking and sucking at Brian’s collarbone while they undressed each other the rest of the way. The electric sensations running through Brian’s body were quickly getting him aroused, making him want Justin even more.

Brian worked Justin’s pants down, the younger man helping him do that as the balance of power shifted from Justin kissing Brian to Brian kissing Justin. Justin’s hands were on Brian’s chest as their lips collided, their tongues rolling over one another. When they parted, Justin took the power back -- his lips tracing a path, licking and sucking their way down Brian’s chest. His warm and wet tongue pressed against Brian’s nipples, then circled them, his teeth barely scraping the surface of Brian’s skin, which made the already intoxicating action even more sublime.

“Want to be… inside you…” Brian rasped between breaths that were already becoming heavier, his fingers grabbing at Justin’s hips as the younger man sat on the edge of the lounge chair they’d found that was the perfect height for this purpose. Waves of pleasure were washing over Brian, becoming stronger as Justin’s fingers, lips, and tongue continued working their way over Brian’s upper body.

“Not yet,” Justin whispered, his lips still touching Brian’s chest, making their way back toward the middle, brushing along Brian’s skin with the lightest touch -- a touch that somehow felt even more arousing than when Justin pressed his lips harder against Brian’s skin, sucking at it, although both actions were enough to make Brian’s breath hitch as he bit back a moan. “I want... to make… this good… for both of us…” Justin’s words were broken up by kisses as Justin continued his journey down Brian’s body toward his cock, stopping at the area of Brian’s hips where the sensations he was experiencing became much stronger and more unexpected. Unpredictable.

Justin’s fingernails scraped lightly along the skin of Brian’s hips as the moan he’d been holding back finally escaped, unable to be contained any longer.

“Like that?” Justin whispered, his tongue starting to work Brian’s cock as he watched, his brain filling in the sensation from memory. Justin stroked with his tongue, then stroked with his fingers, preparing Brian’s body. Brian watched Justin kiss his inner thighs, remembering how that would have felt -- how it had always driven him crazy.

Once Brian was ready, Justin shifted positions, moving his legs onto Brian’s shoulders. Brian coated his fingers in lube, then slid them inside of Justin, slowly opening him, relishing the feeling of Justin’s warmth and tightness around his fingers. Then, he traded his fingers for his cock -- and physical sensation for mental -- moving his hands to Justin’s hips, where he could push against his partner to start the gliding action of the chair. He watched his penis slide in and out of Justin -- calling on the thousands of times he’d done this when he could feel it to remind him how it felt, using the memory to build on the pleasure he was getting from watching Justin’s face as he fucked him. Hearing Justin’s loud cries and soft whimpers as he journeyed toward ecstasy.

As they moved together in perfect sync, the sensations in Brian’s brain and body built up slowly, becoming more and more intense, making it harder to focus on the memory and the visual in front of him as his eyes slid shut and pleasure took over -- overwhelming his thoughts and his senses as Justin’s moans became more urgent and his body tensed beneath Brian’s fingers and then stilled when he fell over his own edge into rapture.

Justin’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, glistening with sweat, as he let his legs fall from Brian’s shoulders. Brian leaned back in the chair, catching his own breath. Justin shifted over in the lounge chair, making room for Brian to join him, so they could lie there together, basking in the afterglow.

For Brian, the act of sex had shifted in purpose over the last eleven years -- going from a selfish act focused primarily on his own physical and emotional release, to a selfless one focused on bringing pleasure to Justin. Giving Justin what he wanted. Of course, Justin felt the same about Brian -- wanting him to enjoy it just as much -- and it showed in the careful attention Justin showed Brian, giving him as much as he possibly could where he’d be able to feel it.

But he knew that Justin had lost something in all of this, too. They both had a whole host of memories that involved sex -- and a large portion of them were things that just weren’t physically possible now. Brian couldn’t fuck Justin up against the wall of the shower anymore. He couldn’t throw him down on the floor to fuck him, hard and rough. And he knew that Justin had enjoyed those things just as much as he did. They never really talked about that, but it was there. Silently acknowledged. Things were different now because they had to be.

It wasn’t necessarily bad, but sometimes he missed the way things used to be. He was sure Justin did too.

But this was another instance in which it was better to focus on making something new rather than dwelling on the past. The past was gone, and all that was left was the future. Their future together.

And their present -- lying together on the lounge chair in the corner of their bedroom, sweaty and sticky and sated.

“Did I forget to tell you congratulations?” Brian said quietly, as his breathing returned to normal.

“Oh, I think your message came through loud and clear.” Justin rolled over toward Brian, throwing his leg over Brian’s body and using it to pull their bodies closer.

“Good.” Brian kissed Justin again -- this time soft and sweet. Justin laid his head on Brian’s chest, his damp hair brushing against Brian’s chin while Brian drank in the scent of everything that was Justin at this moment -- sweat and mint shampoo and acrylic paint and a hint of the garlic from dinner.

Grateful for everything that had been, and for everything that was. And for everything that was yet to be.