About two weeks in Justin's stay at Brian’s house, he woke up in the middle of the night after a terrible dream. He couldn’t make sense of it, but he had stopped trying to understand the way his subconscious worked.

Justin tiptoed out of the room so he wouldn’t awaken his son.

He was set to head downstairs and search for alcohol, when he noticed light coming from under a door at the end of the hallway. Curiosity pulled him toward the source of the light.

The door was ajar and he could see Brian standing in front of the window, a bottle of whiskey in hand. He had a silky bathrobe on, which amused Justin. He had to admit Brian looked good in anything he would wear.

Brian turned to him, and Justin realized he might have made some sort of noise.

Since he had been discovered, he stepped inside, clearing his throat. “Can’t sleep?”

“Ditto,” Brian said in a rough voice.

Justin took the bottle from Brian's hand and took a gulp. “Nightmare.”

Brian winced, searching Justin's eyes.

“It was a crazy one,” Justin admitted.

“Crazy how.”

Justin took another pull from the bottle, needing all the courage to speak about his bad dream. Brian was the only person who listened and gave him all the support he needed in such moments. No one had understood what Justin needed after a nightmare better than Brian.

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you,” Justin averted, since the memories were painful for both of them.

Brian snatched the bottle back. “You still have nightmares about prom?” He sounded surprised, but spoke in a detached way, as if he didn’t care anymore.

Justin knew that was Brian's usual approach when his prom was mentioned. “Sometimes. Not often. Actually…” Justin retrieved the bottle. “…this is the first one in over three years. Shit. It was so fucked up.”

“It was,” Brian said softly.

“The dream, I mean,” Justin explained. “It was the usual thing…I was being chased by Hobbs, you screamed my name, but the new addition was when I was hit and fell to the ground, I was sort of out of my body. I could see the scene and there was Ethan too. He was saying how I deserved it, mocking me, belittling me.” Justin dared to meet Brian's surprisingly watery eyes. “You kept trying to get me to react…shaking me and calling my name.”

“Christ, Justin.” Brian wrapped an arm around Justin, hugging him tightly.

“It was fucked up…” Justin's words died on his lips when he noticed what Brian had under his bathrobe.

After his confession about his nightmare, seeing Brian wearing the old, white, bloodied, silky scarf was a shock to Justin's system. “What the fuck?” He gripped one end of the scarf. “What…the…fuck?”

Brian took Justin's hand, both of them holding the scarf. “You’re not the only one who has nightmares, Justin. This was my last connection to you.”

“Fuck.” Justin dropped his hand, allowing the tears that pooled in his eyes to roll down his cheeks.

It was obvious Brian still loved him, and Justin knew the outcome if he stayed there any longer. He would allowed Brian back in his heart, and then no one would be able to mend him when they broke up because Justin was aware their relationship wouldn’t survive.

“I…have to go.” He walked backwards out of the room, noticing for the first time how it was decorated. There was an easel, a small table near it, several blank canvases, and even a cloth to place on the floor so the hardwood wouldn’t get damaged.

None of the things looked new. In fact, they had dust on them.

Brian had created this room for Justin, and Justin had never used it.

After changing in jeans and a shirt, he took the keys and left. He trusted Brian to be there for Nick in case he woke up and needed anything.

Justin was selfish for once in his life and needed distance.

He drove to Babylon, arriving at twelve-thirty. The bouncer was surprised to see him, but he greeted him by his name, which amazed Justin. It felt like he hadn’t been gone for so many years. Everyone still remembered him and was nice to him.

Even the bartender remembered his preference for margaritas. Justin didn’t bother to tell him margaritas were the worst nowadays. He accepted all the glasses pushed his way.

“I don’t believe it!”

Justin cringed when he heard Emmett's voice, but turned slowly to face his friend.

“It is you,” Emmett gasped.

“I sleepwalked here,” Justin muttered.

“Babylon is a long way from home, baby.”

“That’s not home. It’s a temporary roof above my head. I made amends with Mom, and she’s searching for a place for us.” Justin downed his third margarita. He hoped it was the third, though judging by the way his brain felt foggy, it was the fifth. “I’m not here to hear about you worrying about me.”

“Are you here with Brian?” Emmett frowned, looking utterly confused.

“No, I left him babysitting,” he sneered, making eye-contact with a man over Emmett's shoulder.

The subtle nod toward the Backroom was all the invitation Justin needed.

“See you.” Justin patted Emmett's shoulder, heading toward the Backroom, following his trick.

A still sober part of his brain kept telling him this was terrible coping mechanism with his problems, but he shoved rationality out the door and pushed his trick against a wall. The man felt wrong and his touches were foreign, so Justin pushed his pants down, keeping his arms pinned, before accepting a lubed condom from his old acquaintance Todd. The fuck was empty and not satisfying in the least, but it didn’t stop Justin from finding another guy not long after he abandoned his first trick.

When he resurfaced from the Backroom, he drank a couple more margaritas before getting lost on the dancefloor. He spotted Emmett at some point, but he dismissed his friend’s worried face when an eager pair of hands touched his chest.

This was exactly what Justin needed to forget about his shitty life. Nothing seemed to go the way he wanted.

He was stuck living with Brian, and every day felt like the memories got the best of him making his resolve crumble. Brian seemed restless in winning Justin back.

Nick loved Brian, and even complained about moving to their own place, because he liked it there and Brian was the coolest.

Justin's mom wasn’t much help in finding a good apartment at a decent price. The only thing remotely affordable was a loft similar to the one Brian used to have. Justin had ripped her a new one for daring to show him a bachelor pad when he had a child to raise. Jennifer had made sure to remind him, he lived in a palace bought for him by the man who still loved him despite the way he had acted. That speech cemented his mom was Team Brian.

Justin was also struggling to get his own show at a gallery, but there was no free spot, and most of the owners were afraid to bring a new name for a solo show. Justin's arguments about him being from Pittsburgh and having his art displayed in shows before fell to deaf ears.

His night at Babylon was all he needed to take his mind off his problems.

After another trip to the Backroom, when he was sipping on his latest cocktail, Emmett appeared at his side with Drew.

“We’re taking you home,” Emmett demanded.

Justin couldn’t argue. Words got tangled on his tongue, and he seemed unable to escape Drew’s iron-grip on his arm.

He tried to protest once they were outside, pointing to Brian's Jeep.

“I’ll drive it, follow Drew,” Emmett offered, taking the keys from Justin.

Justin didn’t show his surprise that Drew knew the way to Brian's house. He sat silently in the passenger seat of the Hummer, ignoring the sudden nerves making his stomach churn. Maybe it was the alcohol.

Once they arrived, Justin went to get the Jeep keys from Emmett, before marching inside the house. He felt like a child being brought home from a party by his parents.

Brian was in the foyer, worry evident in his eyes.

Justin brushed past him on his way to the kitchen. He was aware of Brian chatting with Emmett, before he saw Drew’s car departing.

Justin took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, taking careful sips. He spotted Brian in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, a scowl on his face.

“Come on, say how disappointed you are in me. Say I’m a failure. Or just go.”

“It’s after three,” Brian said with a hint of amusement.

Justin barked a loud laugh. “That’s so rich. Well, let me refresh your memory, old man. We’re not in a relationship. I simply live here because of some very unfortunate circumstances. If I didn’t have Nick, I wouldn’t have accepted to play nurse.”

“Somehow, I didn’t miss your lovely personality.”

“Ditto,” Justin spat, heading out of the kitchen.

Brian caught his arm. “Would you stop running away from your problems? Stop running away from me,” he added softly.

Justin was ready to argue, but he had a moment of clarity in his drunken haze. Brian had never run away from Justin. It had only been Justin putting a distance between them, despite all of Brian's efforts to keep him away, he had been the one to seek Justin and make sure he was safe.

“I can’t, Brian,” he said in a lifeless voice.

“Can’t, or won’t?” Brian challenged, searching his eyes.

“It’s complicated.”

“Why? Because you overanalyze everything? Because you turned your back to a problem instead of facing it like a mature person? Because you still love me?”

“It fucking hurts.”

“Love hurts, in case no one has told you that.”

Justin slumped on the first step, grabbing his hair. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. He had expected him to be the first to cave, but it seemed Brian was tired of their game.

“You can stay here until Jennifer finds you an apartment. Then, I don’t even want see you.” Brian's cold voice made Justin look up at him sharply.

He expected to see some hint of sarcasm on his face, but he looked so angry and betrayed, Justin knew he had fucked up any chance they might still have had.

Brian sidestepped him, taking the stairs one at the time, mindful of his cast.

Justin hurried to help him, but Brian shoved him away, annoyed. “Don’t touch me!”

Unfortunately, Justin's already precarious equilibrium due to the alcohol in his system, made him lose balance and fall down the five stairs they had managed to ascend.

“Fuck. Justin!” The sound of Brian's scared voice and his fall seemed to have triggered something Justin didn’t ever expect to remember.

After the nightmare that had awakened him starting his eventful night, this was everything his tormented body needed.

He stared with wide eyes at his shoes, as Brian threw himself next to him on the floor. Justin could feel Brian's hands on his face and shoulders, but all he could see in the back of his mind was flashes of them dancing and laughing and kissing.

“Justin,” Brian said urgently. “Did I hurt you?”

Justin moved his eyes to Brian's, and started sobbing at how overwhelmed he felt.

“Fuck. Where does it hurt? Talk to me.” Brian pulled him in his arms, and Justin wrapped his arms around Brian.

It was the first time in weeks when he allowed himself to feel anything. His fingers clutched at Brian's silky bathrobe, as he washed Brian's neck in his tears.

“Do you need the hospital?” Brian kept asking silly questions, and it took a lot of effort for Justin to gather his wits and control his sobs enough to speak.

He pulled away to look at Brian, cupping his cheeks. He was about to confess how much he still loved him, but all that escaped his mouth when he opened it, was a loud sob, followed by laughter of joy.

“You’re freaking me out, Sunshine.”

“I remember,” Justin choked out.

Justin knew Brian understood perfectly well what he meant when he stopped breathing, staring at him in horror.

“The dance…your smile…the way you kissed me in front of everyone. We were fucking amazing,” Justin gushed, squeezing his eyes shut, revisiting his freshly reappeared memories.

“We were alright,” Brian said quietly, taking one of Justin's hands in his.

Justin opened his eyes only to roll them. Then he started laughing. “Who knew being shoved down the stairs would do the trick? We would have tried it ages ago.”

Brian winced. “I can’t believe I did that. I was so sure I had hurt you…when I had vowed to myself to never harm a hair on your body after watching you thrashing in that hospital room for weeks.”

“I just lost my equilibrium.” Justin averted his eyes, focusing on their still joined hands. “I took a leaf from your book and got wasted then fucked my way through the Backroom. I didn’t feel anything.”

“I usually didn’t feel shit either with my tricks. Until you.”

Justin smiled, squeezing Brian's hand. “Let me help you up. Did you hurt yourself?”

“I might need a happy pill. Don’t worry.”

When they were both standing, Justin grabbed Brian's elbow. “This goes both ways, Brian. You were worried about me a moment ago. I didn’t brush you off. You have to learn to accept that pain doesn’t make you weak.”

“You were always philosophical when you were drunk.” Brian hopped into the kitchen, taking a painkiller from the counter and washing it with the water Justin had abandoned. “See? I can be responsible and take meds with water.”

Justin fought a smile, feeling more at ease than he had in a while. “Though, you still kick inanimate objects when things don’t go your way.”

“I called a mechanic last week to fix the garage door,” Brian reminded him.

“Only eight years too late.”

Brian shrugged, placing the empty bottle back on the counter. “It’s time to mend what we broke.”