I slid open the loft door and closed it with a bang. Justin looked up from the computer desk. At least he had put on clothes (although calling what Justin wears clothes is quite generous and never let it be said that I’m not generous). At least he had gotten out of bed. He wasn’t scheduled to work that day - he hadn’t called out from the diner since being discharged from the hospital - and I was too fucking busy at work to come home for lunch like I usually did on days he wasn’t working.

Leo Brown had been incredibly understanding when he learned that Justin had been in the hospital - although not for what, of course.  I’m not sure who told him, but it sure as fuck wasn’t me. Knowing Cynthia, she must have managed to let that detail drop in a completely professional way. I had to remember to give her a bonus and fire her ass. So rather than flying out to Chicago, we worked out the new Drew Boyd campaign by video conference. Leo had eventually come around to my point of view to embrace Drew’s new status as an out and proud queer football player, especially now that the Ironmen had invited him back. Better queer than losing, the Ironmen seemed to think.. The campaign used the copy “Comfortable Enough to Be Yourself,” and we were starting with a small run in specialty publications: The Advocate, Bust, and a full page in The Village Voice. Depending on reaction to the smaller campaign, we would then start advertising online on various websites and eventually ramp up to more mainstream publications. I knew it was a risk, especially in the current political times that had seen the cancellation of Rage, the movie. But I was actually able to use Rage’s increase in comic sales after the cancellation of production to demonstrate both the power of an angry queer community, and that they were a sizeable demographic with money to spend. I had been at the office for twelve hours that day since the campaign had launched the day before, and I felt badly for leaving Justin alone. But he did have more support now that everyone knew a bit about what he has been going through. Now, whether it was the type of support he wanted or was remotely helpful…

Justin looked up at me and then back to the computer screen and sighed.

“What is it now?” I asked.

“Wellll, you’re not going to believe this but my mom’s coworker sells these supplements that cure depression! And not only that they cure insomnia, headaches, IBS, low libido.” I snorted at that one. “And general malaise.”

“No kidding. Let me guess, all for the low low price of $19.99 plus shipping and handling.”

“Well actually I did some research on the company, LifeSpice.” I snorted again. Clearly, someone had put their son-in-law in charge of branding. “And it looks like it’s one of those pyramid schemes. You would think my mom would know better.”

You would think. You would think the lot of our friends and family would know better. Not that it was ill-intentioned. Everyone clearly cared about Justin and wanted him well, but if there’s anything I had learned from the reading on depression that I’d done as well as talking with Tori and Ana, both of whom have had experience with depression albeit from different perspectives, is that there is no easy fix. And all anyone wanted for Justin was some easy fix.

We’ve already heard about Ben’s monogamy cure. As if it wouldn’t make Justin more depressed to be stuck fucking only me.

Emmett had pulled Justin aside and shared that he had heard from his hairdresser that cutting out carbs completely would improve his mood. Justin retorted that Emmett better keep that advice to himself and away from Debbie’s hearing if he valued his balls being attached to the rest of him in the slightest.

Debbie, for her part, seemed to think that more carbs were the answer and filled our fridge and freezer with all types of pasta slathered in marinara and cheese. Justin surely wasn’t complaining and his ass was back in fighting shape but it didn’t cure his depression.

Lindsay and Melanie also hopped on the diet bandwagon and had encouraged Justin to cut gluten and soy from his diet. In fact, they were doing that too in an effort to enhance their couples’ counseling. What wheat had to do with their marriage, I didn’t know, but then again I never claimed to be an expert in marriage.

Michael had offered to go to the Chinese herbalist that he and Justin had seen for my brief performance problem after cancer treatment. He also mentioned he had seen some fliers for reiki and chakra alignment at the GLC. Justin and I at least got a huge laugh out of that one.

Some of the suggestions weren’t so terribly wrong about what might be helpful. Ben also recommended meditation, and there had been some recent studies to support that. Ted and Blake - who recently found each other once again and finally both had enough clean time that they wouldn’t be a total train wreck as a couple - both recommended finding a support group. Emmett recommended exercise and offered to go with Justin to the gym. Lindsey and Jennifer teamed up to find Justin some studio space - which he hadn’t yet used, but it was there and ready for him. And Lindsey and Melanie had been asking Justin to take Gus on outings to the Natural History Museum and the Children’s Museum and seemed to think that he didn’t realize what they were doing.

But the fucking thing was, all of this advice was unsolicited. Justin never called anyone up and asked, “Hey, given your significant training in mental health, what do you think I should do?” So now the kid was stuck listening politely and managing everyone else’s fucking emotions about his health and worrying about disappointing them.

And that’s not to even mention all the comments I’d been getting. This was not about me, despite popular opinion, and thank fuck these comments weren’t being made in front of him because last thing he needed was to have the burden of feeling like he needed to defend me. But I had heard enough of it.

“You better not fuck this up, asshole! That kid is depending on you!”

“Have you ever considered what message you’re sending to Justin when you go off with a trick? So much of depression is feeling unworthy. You don’t want to amplify that for him.”

“You know, Brian, I’m sure all he wants - all he’s waiting for - is to know how much he means to you. If you would just tell him... Even Peter needs to grow up a little.”

“You should be taking him out more. He needs to get out of that loft.”

“You keep dragging him to Woody’s and Babylon and making him continue working at the diner. Give the kid a break, he doesn’t need that pressure.”

Whatthefuckever. This wasn’t about me, and I could handle unsolicited advice. Fuck knows I’ve been getting it from this crowd for as long as I can remember.

I loosened my tie as I walked over to the computer and hit delete on Jennifer’s email and turned off the monitor. “C’mon Sun...Justin, you don’t need to be reading that shit.”

And that was another thing. Ever since meeting Ana at Woody’s, I couldn’t forget what she had said about Justin’s nickname. Was calling him Sunshine too much pressure? Had he been feeling that, subconsciously, all these years? Did he believe that his role in our fucked up little family was to be the one who brightened every else’s day? Was that the role we had placed him in? And if so, how did that feel, the weight of that pressure, now that he was depressed? How had it felt before, after the bashing, when being a ray of Sunshine would be the most fucked up thing to expect of the kid? How complicit had I been in sending the message that he owed me, that he owed anyone, a fucking thing, least of all being happy? Fuck!

“Yeah I know,” he sighed. “I was just hoping that an email from my mom would be, you know, about something else. Like how Molly’s doing or whatever.”

He had such reasonable - such low - expectations for us. And yet, one by one, we each managed to fuck it up.

He looked up at me from the computer chair. “What’s up? How did the campaign launch go?”

“It looks phenomenal, of course.”

“Of course. Never one for false modesty, are you?”

“Modesty doesn’t sell shit.”

“And you’re living proof of that, aren’t you?”

I held out my arms as if to put myself on display. “Well, there haven’t been any angry mobs with torches and pitchforks so far, but I don’t know how many homophobes subscribe to The Advocate.”

“Eh, they probably do as opposition research and because most of them are closet cases.”

I chuckled at that. “The reception from some of the other brands hasn’t been bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In fact…” Fuck.

Justin swivels his sit around to face me entirely. “What’s up, Brian?”

“There’s a company who’s been wanting to expand to the national market, and they really liked the shock value approach.”

“They’re coming to the right man for the job if they want shock value.”

“Well, shock value with a social message.”

“Ahh Brian Kinney and Concerned Citizens for the Truth team up again. So what’s up? What’s the problem?”

“They’re based in LA.” There, I said it.

Justin scrunched up his face, confused, in the way he does that makes my heart do things that remind me I actually have one. “Soooo again, I ask, what’s the problem?”

“Well I’ve been able to do all the stuff with Brown by video conference. But these guys want to fly me out, meet me, hear my ideas. I can’t do that remotely.”

“So don’t.”

“They want me out there next Tuesday until Thursday, probably returning on a red eye arriving early Friday. You could come. Kinnetik would foot the bill for our best consultant, of course.”

“Brian,” he sighed again. “I’m not...despite how many times I’ve been called a pansy, I am not in fact a delicate little flower that needs to be tended daily. I can, I have, survived a few nights without you.”

“I know you have. I know you can. You’re not...a goddamn flower. I just thought you might want to...being here alone might be...it would be more fun for you if you came along.”

“I’m not coming to LA so you can babysit me. In fact, believe it or not, someone trusts me to be the babysitter. I’m watching Adam for Ana and Tori Wednesday night - Barn Door is playing.”

Barn Door was Ana’s band, and although the name made it sound like a country-western thing, they actually played pretty decent original music that had a classic rock sound. Tori and Ana would definitely understand if Justin cancelled. They would be able to find someone else to watch Adam or Tori could stay home, it’s not like she hadn’t seen Ana play a million times already.

“And I have my appointment with Peter on Thursday.”

Dr. “Call me Peter” Green was Justin’s therapist. He had only been seeing him a few weeks and wasn’t sure how he felt about him. Apparently every therapist out there claims to specialize in depression and nearly as many claim to work with trauma. Peter was also queer, and old enough that I had never fucked him, so that variable made narrowing down the list we had gotten from the hospital easier. Again, he could have rescheduled, I’m sure Peter would have understood.

“And Tuesday I have a shift.” That was the flimsiest of all the excuses, like the diner couldn’t make do without him.

But the kid had his mind made up. And if I was going to criticize everyone for thinking they knew what was best for him, the least I could do was not make the same mistake myself. “Sounds like it makes most sense for you to stay here.”

He smirked at me.

“But do me a favor?” I said. “Consider staying with Daphne, or fuck, letting her stay here, while I’m gone? Or maybe stay over at Tori and Ana’s on Wednesday?”

“I’ll take it under advisement.” Fucker. I growled and pulled him up from the computer desk chair and into the bedroom.

I called to order our usual from the Thai restaurant while I got a warm washcloth from the bathroom to clean us up. Justin flashed his grin at me.

“Yes, dear?”

“What are you going to get me in LA?”

“Huh?”

“You’re going away on a business trip. You should bring me home something!”

“Fuck, I don’t even bring Gus presents when I go on business trips. How old are you?”

“But you like my ass so much better than Gus’s.”

“You are one sick fuck.”

“See, you like that too. You were going to pay for me to fly out there...first class I bet. Use some of that money on a present.”

“Twat, that would have been Kinnetik’s money. It was a business expense.”

“Kinnetik’s money, your money, what’s the difference? It doesn’t have to be big or expensive, just something.”

“Fiiiiine. This company that’s flying me out, American Apparel, their clothes are exactly your…well to call it style would be patently untrue...they make hoodies, t-shirts. I’ll get you some stuff in your size, okay?”

He grinned even wider, and fuck if it didn’t light up the room. “Thank youuuuuu.”

“And don’t go telling anyone about this. I refuse to tolerate that type of character assassination.”

“Our little secret, I promise.”

And fuck if the idea of having a secret, no matter how stupid, between us didn’t make his grin go from wide to goofy.

And goddamn I needed to hold onto the image of that grin as well as his argument that he wanted to stay in Pittsburgh when I received the onslaught of criticism for abandoning poor Sunshine in his hour of need and putting business ahead of his wittle heart. And Justin’s business is Justin’s business, so I just shut the fuck up and let everyone come at me rather than revealing to them that he had argued tooth and nail against being brought along like - and let’s be honest here and say the kid was right, although I never would to his face - he needed a babysitter.

And then on Monday, I walked into the diner for lunch. I was really in the mood for a turkey sandwich on wheat, no mayo, and not at all thinking that I was about to be out of town for three days and maybe would miss Justin just a smidge. Nope, it was definitely the delicacy otherwise known as Liberty Diner fare that brought me in. Oh and the fact that’s where I ate lunch every day of my goddamn working life when I actually left the office for lunch. See, not at all about anticipating missing Justin.

“I just think that asshole should have offered to bring you along. It’s not like he doesn’t have more money than god, what’s another plane ticket?”

“Deb…”

“Yeah, baby, I don’t love the idea of you left all alone in the loft like that.”

“Em…”

“We just care about you Justin.”

“Mikey, it’s not like Brian doesn’t…”

“It’s just that being lonely can really trigger…”

“Ted…”
 
“Theodore!” They all jumped. “Don’t you have a job that requires you to be at an office rather than gossiping with these yentas?”

“Bri, I was just taking my lunch…”

“Lunch is over Theodore, I need those numbers on my desk in time to review before I leave for LA. Unless you would like to make this gossip circle your new career?”

“Uh, not at all. See ya, guys.” He threw some money on the table and got the hell out of there.

“Now, what were you all badgering Justin about before I so rudely interrupted? Please, continue.”

Justin looked at me from under his blonde lashes, guilt written across his face. Like he was fucking guilty of what? Me overhearing this shit? Like I hadn’t heard it. I had just hoped these clowns had enough sense to actually keep him out of it, not put him in the position of justifying himself. Of justifying me.

“We were just telling Sunshine here that he should ask if he could go with you to LA. It doesn’t seem right leaving him all alone with how he’s been feeling. We weren’t badgering him, asshole.”

“I just call it like I see it, Deb. So Justin, I’m leaving you all alone?”

“Brian, I didn’t say that, I…”

“I know you fucking didn’t. Now, I happen to think unless you’re asking someone for their advice, it’s fucking rude to be shoving that shit in your face. But since we’ve passed over the bar for rude some ways back, why don’t you tell our fine friends just how alone you’ll be. Or would you like me to share the cruise itinerary with them?”

Justin smirked at me once he realized that I was not under the impression that after he fought me several rounds in order to stay home, he had then been complaining to the others that I wasn’t taking him. I really fucking hate that he still somehow doubts this shit between us.

“Well, you see, guys...and Deb.”

Debbie waved her hand in front of her face like “never mind me, go on.”

“I’m going to be terribly alone. Tomorrow I have a long shift here where it’s doubtful I’ll have any human interaction…”

“Because you’re all a bunch of animals,” I muttered.

Justin ignored me and continued, “After work Daphne and I are having a John Hughes movie retrospective.”

I rolled my eyes at the pretension of calling it a retrospective. It would be a movie marathon with both of them stoned out of their minds on my stash of pot and getting butter from the popcorn everyfuckingwhere. I should have insisted they do it at Daphne’s place. What can I say, I’m a fucking pushover.

“Wednesday night I’m watching Tori and Ana’s kid, Adam, and then spending the night over there and hanging out with Ana on Thursday until my therapy appointment. After that? Who knows. Maybe Babylon. So yeah, terribly alone and just pining away for Brian to come home.”

Justin walked back toward the kitchen, having made his point, smirking. Emmett and Mikey looked down at their plates, clearly engrossed in their food, avoiding eye contact with me. Debbie had no problem facing me and smacking me on the back of my head. “You little shit. You know we just care about him and want him to be well.”

“And you think I don’t care about him?”

“Jesus Brian, we know you care, it’s just that sometimes you sure as hell have a funny way of showing it.”

“Not that it’s anyone’s goddamn business but Justin’s, but did you really think I would fly across the country without asking what he wanted to do?”

“C’mon Brian, it’s not like the two of you talk...unless that’s what you guys are calling taking it up the ass these days.”

“Look, I don’t ask about what you and the good detective do in the privacy of your home, why does everyone feel like they are owed front row seats to what goes on in ours?” I paused for a moment. “You know what? I’ve got to get back to the office and prepare to abandon the child. I’ll take that sandwich to go. Justin!”

“Hmmm?” He turned around.

“You got that? Order to go.”

“Gotcha Brian.”

As I was walking out, Michael came running after me. “Brian, Brian...wait up.”

“What’s up, Mikey?” I sighed.

“Don’t be mad at us. We care about him. We care about you. We’re rooting for both of you - together. We just don’t want to see the two of you fall apart because you’re not communicating...again.”

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey...there is a difference between intentions and impact, hasn’t Zen Ben taught you that?”

“Brian...you could make it easier for us.”

“What’s the fun in that Mikey?”

He sighed and said, “He’s depressed Brian. This isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“I know he’s depressed, believe me I know. Look, if you want to know how to be helpful, have you ever tried asking him? That might be a good start.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I know you’re right. It’s hard to not think of him as a kid anymore.”

“Michael, even as a kid, he knew what he wanted and went after it.”

Michael laughed, “So true, he sure did.”

“I really gotta run, Mikey. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Sure thing, Brian. Love you.”

“Always have, Mikey.”

“Always will.”

I got back to the office, and Ted was waiting for me.

“Theodore, are those numbers on my desk like I asked, or will you and Blake be doing some kinky drag tonight with a pink slip?”

“The numbers are sitting right there, Boss.”

“...And what are you still doing here?”

Ted picked up the legal pad on my desk and pulled a pen out of what I swear to god was a pocket protector. “I’m going to write down a number, Bri.”

“Theodore, I do not need to know the size of your cock.”

He handed it to me.

“I understand exaggerating a bit for preserving self-esteem, but this is ridiculous.”

“That’s how much Kinnetik made last quarter.”

“Huh. Not too shabby.”

“Not too shabby? For being in business a year, it's over the fucking moon!” He paused. “What do you plan to do with it?”

I was still staring at the number.

“Of course you could always pump it back into the business, but I’d caution you against scaling too quickly. And for stocks and bonds, to get a good rate, you’d have to go into the middle of the 24th century.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“The best investment there is.” He put his hand on my chest. I looked down at his hand and then back at his face and he quickly removed his hand. “Yourself! Spend it on you. You’ve worked like a son of a bitch. You went through hell and back with your...uh…” He gestured at my groin and I raised one eyebrow. “Not to mention what you and Justin are going through right now with his...uh... So treat yourself to something special. Go buy a new toy.”

“Got dildos up the ass already.”

“I mean that little extravagance you thought you could never afford. Like, uh, new Ferrari or a Warhol. Or how about something for, uh, Justin? Maybe get him a Corvette, you know ‘his’ and ‘his.’”

He must have seen a look on my face. “Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something. We can, uh, talk when you get back from LA.”

And wouldn’t you fucking know that once I got back from LA, I had some ideas of how the fuck to spend this small fortune?

Justin and I had kept in touch while I was away. I had gotten us new cell plans with texting because neither of us is very good on the phone. Well, I’m sure Justin would be good given half a chance or a different boyfriend. So, as a result, when I got back to Pittsburgh, we had been in touch but hadn’t really caught up.

My red eye landed at the ungodly hour of 5 AM, and I was back at the loft at 6 AM. I knew there was no way Justin would be awake yet. He had gone out with Emmett to Babylon and had been texting me non-stop about some trick with a mouth like a Hoover. Drunken Justin texts...I was glad I had gotten the unlimited texting plan. The boy is many things, but concise is not one of them. And thank fuck, right? Otherwise it would be silence for days in the loft.

I slid open the loft door as quietly as I could and moved the bags filled with hoodies and t-shirts that American Apparel had gladly handed over for me to bring to Justin inside. I made my way to the bedroom and took off the suit I had flown in and tossed it in the pile for the dry cleaners. I grabbed an old pair of Justin’s sweatpants. Luckily, the boy wears his pants so long they drag after him, and no matter how much I might tease him for his hideous clothes, goddamn they are comfortable. I lifted the duvet and crawled in next to him and by next to him I meant wedged my body in the littlest sliver of mattress that was available. For a small kid, Justin can somehow take up the entirety of our king sized mattress if permitted. He was lying on his stomach, snoring softly, and his white blonde hair was covering his face since he had been wearing it longer. I slid in beside him and really truly tried not to wake him. I knew he needed his sleep. Somehow though, my arm wound up slung across his lower back. When he felt my touch his lifted and turned his head, opening one eye to look at me.

“Shhhh, go back to sleep. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay. How was your trip?”

“It was fine,” I whispered.

“Successful?”

Shit, here went nothing. “You could say that.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“So Sunshine, what would you say about moving to LA?”