These paper boats of mine are meant to dance on the ripples of hours, and not reach any destination. - Rabindranath Tagore

Part IV

There is that short series of days when summer begins its passage into fall, when the presence of green eases into a promise of scarlet and umber. One could almost miss that shift in a city as encased in brick and steel as New York. But Brian could sense it as he stood in the recess of a storefront across from an old brownstone as the sun began to rise. He shivered a bit. He was pretty sure it wasn't from the slight chill of the early morning.

He'd driven through the night to stand at this particular spot at this particular time and hoped that Justin was as much a creature of habit as he'd always been. That he'd duck out of the apartment early and make the round of coffee-house and newspaper stand before heading into the gallery. He'd always wanted to get there early on Saturday, get his work done quickly and make the weekend as long as possible. Then again, that was back when Brian was actually coming to spend the weekend with him. Brian leaned his head back against the gritty brick wall and wondered how he'd gotten to the point that he was skulking outside of Justin's apartment; how he'd let his life - hell, everyone's life - get so fucked up.

Justin grabbed his light jacket and his messenger bag, keys and a small scroll of art paper. He'd spent the night not sleeping. It had been one of those evenings that was too cool for the air conditioner and too humid for an open window and he'd felt a bit suffocated with the lack of circulating air. The sheets had wrinkled beneath him oddly and he'd felt every crease, every fiber before he'd given up the pretense that he was going to rest, and finished a drawing of Dolcezza. It had been a spur of the moment project pulled out of the the need to offer some kind of apology to Mr. Marcuso for his lack of attention the past few weeks. He'd almost abandoned the effort when he'd found himself penciling browns and golds into the large green eyes of the petite, white cat.

Justin grinned as he attached the scrolled paper to the message hook under the number 3-C and watched Dolcezza's delicate paw try to sneak its way out beneath his neighbor's closed door. Perhaps not a wasted night after all.

He'd been waiting for over an hour when he finally saw Justin step out of the door and down the few steps, turning right on the sidewalk. Brian ditched his half smoked cigarette and pushed off the brick wall, hesitant to follow, yet eager as well. He wasn't even sure what he'd say to Justin. How does someone who never apologizes begin the apology of a lifetime? Is there anything that can be said to make up for this kind of abandonment, this measure of stupid cruelty? Somehow Brian didn't think a shrug and an 'I fucked up' was going to be enough this time.

Justin knew he was there somewhere. Could feel him in the air like a brittle jolt of electricity and he wasn't sure if he should quicken his steps or simply stop and confront him. He decided the former would do little good if Brian was already here in the city, so Justin chose to confront. "What do you want from me!?" He all but screamed out the words as his body came to a full stop. "What the hell else can you want from me?"

Brian was a good twenty paces behind when Justin stopped. He slowed his own step when he was a few feet away, his arms held out at his sides in supplication. He knew he would beg if it came to that. "I don't know."

Justin turned his head slightly, never fully facing Brian. He didn't want to see him, didn't want to have this encounter at all. Damn him. Just... damn him. Justin gripped his hands into fists, his right aching from drawing most of the night. As he shook out the pain he began to laugh dryly. "You know? At least Hobbs didn't tell me he loved me first."

Brian watched Justin walk on as the impact of the words sank in.

Jesus...

What the fuck had he done?

"I'm a coward and an insufferable asshole, Justin." Brian sat down on a broken piece of the river wall, a few feet away from where Justin had finally come to rest. "Pretty much always have been." He knew Justin was miles beyond hurt and angry and didn't really expect any kind of response. Nonetheless, it hurt that Justin simply accepted his words without comment. "But even with the worst of my faults, I hope you can believe I'm nothing like him."

Justin made a derisive sound. "With the exception of the wardrobe and your lack of community service, I'm hard pressed at the moment to see much difference." For the first time he met Brian's eyes. He paused for a long look. "What is it you want, Brian?"

Brian struggled with how to answer Justin. Even knowing what was at stake, that he was here to somehow fix this fucked up situation with their lives, it was still difficult for Brian to put his thoughts and emotions into words. How could he, with all his many limitations, explain to Justin what he wanted without feeling less of a man than he already did? "What do I want? ... To erase the last year - turn back the clock - fix this mess." He couldn't miss the hurt and anger that hid in Justin's eyes and he had no idea how to get past that.

"Right," Justin spat and pulled the bag from his shoulder. "Something tells me that if life with Michael had been just a bit less demanding, just a bit more exciting, you'd still be in Pittsburgh! Following the dictates of your family... Because that's what you do." And it was, Justin knew. Brian had never been able to pull himself away from the influence that Debbie and Michael had over him. Didn't matter, though. Brian had made his choice, made their choice.

Justin pulled a few sheets of paper from his messenger bag and did what he always did when he sat in this particular spot. He folded his boats. Brian watched in silence as the artistic hands flew, creating the small vessels, confused by the seemingly calm actions when his own soul felt like it was being sucked out through his balls. He wanted to disagree with Justin about his comments - thought about it - but he was on tenuous ground. He wasn't here to plead his own case. He was here, hopefully, to begin some kind of mending of the gigantic rift he'd placed between them, if that was even possible. Even though Justin knew parts of Brian that no one else ever would know - those gentler parts - Justin had recoiled when Brian had shown them. How would Justin react if Brian figuratively threw himself at the other man's feet and begged for forgiveness?

Regardless of how much he wanted it, he wasn't at all certain that Justin would ever forgive him, or that he should. So he sat and quietly watched in bizarre fascination as he continued. When Justin had finished, he reached over and easily set one small white ship out onto the murky water.

"Look at it."

"What?"

"The boat, Brian," Justin commanded.

Brian huffed out an incredulous little laugh, suddenly wondering whether the past year had sent Justin into some level of insanity. Wondering if he'd finally broken this beautiful man beyond all repair. He wanted to play with toy boats like they were at the park with Gus? Christ... Still, he turned and watched the paper ship as it slowly drifted, bobbing slightly up and down until it was caught in the fading wake of a slow moving tanker. Once caught, it let itself be pulled into the flow of the water, giving over whatever autonomy it had to a force greater than itself. Letting itself be towed away from a safer harbor.

"Do you see it?" Justin pointed to the boat being pulled further out. His voice was strangely flat.

"Yeah, I see it."

"It always does that... takes the path of least resistance, following along ignorantly in the wake of a more compelling force," Justin explained, rather clinically. "Its path won't change at all until that force stops pulling it along, or until a stronger force tugs it in another direction." Justin leaned his weight forward, pressing his body toward the water, straining to keep his vessel in sight. And Brian was struggling to figure out what this all meant. "You took the path of least resistance, Brian," Justin said after a long pause. "Never fought against the current, never looked to find a way out of the thrall of whatever power was pulling you along."

"I did what I thought was best."

Justin shook his head and laughed. "Christ, I can't believe this." He shouldered his bag and stood, facing Brian. "Brian... I should already be at work. Just go home. Go home to Michael and leave me alone."

By noon Justin had called it quits on trying to concentrate on work and just headed home. Damn fucking Brian. I was doing what I thought was best. Bastard. The man was either a liar, a fool or just exceptionally cruel. After the past year, Justin was leaning toward a combination of the last two. There was never really a question about whether he loved Brian. He had from the first night they'd met. That was just a fact. Like winter follows fall, Justin Taylor loves Brian Kinney. What confused Justin was this newly found ability to hate him just as much simultaneously.

The second time he'd ever seen Brian, Justin had ended up in tears, his heart ripped apart and dangling precariously from one sleeve. It was just a fuck, Brian had told him, and love was simply some handy illusion straight people hid behind so they could feel better about the pain they inflicted upon each other. Now, here he was... six years later and a hundred years older, wondering why he couldn't have just believed Brian's shit in the first place. Would have saved everyone a hell of a lot of pain in the long run.

He wished he could say he'd finally learned those lessons, the ones Brian had tried to teach him years ago. That he'd finally got it. But he couldn't and he hadn't. And it pissed him off that his heart was still hanging there on that fucking sleeve, clinging by a single bloody thread. It really fucking pissed him off that merely seeing Brian could bring it all to the surface.

He laid his bag on the counter in the kitchen, sorted his mail and pulled out a beer from the fridge.

"You got another one of those?"

Justin jumped. "Jesus fuck, Brian! How did you get in here?"

"Mr. Marcuso." The man had always liked Brian. "I... We can't leave things the way they are."

"You won't be happy until you completely break me, will you, Brian?" Justin's shoulders slumped as if a great weight was bearing down on him. "Congratulations. You're pretty goddamned close to nirvana."

Brian walked slowly and stood beside Justin, close enough to touch him. God, he wanted to touch him. But he didn't. "I'm sorry, Justin... I'm so fucking sorry."

"You want forgiveness? Is that it?... Okay. Consider yourself absolved," Justin said quietly. "Now get the hell out of my home."

Ignoring the angry command, Brian sat at the kitchen table. He needed to put some space between them as he began to speak. "When Ben left, I knew I was responsible. And you were right earlier - I took the easy way out when Michael and Deb started in on me." He caught Justin's wary look. "It was easier to let them manipulate me, yet again, into being what they wanted than it was to hang onto you - to be what you needed... And being a coward cost me the most important person in my life, Justin."

Justin had only seen Brian close to tears once before. I was so fucking scared. He could almost feel that same fear rolling off of Brian now. He wished it was enough. But it wasn't. "What am I supposed to do here, Brian? Fall back into bed for a fuck? Tell you that none of this year's pain matters? That we can pick up where we left off and live out our fairy tale in some ivory condo in Tribeca?"

"No." Brian stepped over and stood in front of Justin, running his thumb across that face he'd missed. "No, I don't think we could ever pick up where we left off, because we left off in a pretty fucking dismal place," he admitted. "Maybe we could... start over."

"I can't go through this again, Brian. There's too much anger and hurt here... And I don't ever want to see or hear of Michael Novotny again."

"Can I ask you one question?" Justin nodded, warily. "Do you still love me at all?"

Justin sighed. "That's never been the problem, Brian. But loving you doesn't mean I'll ever trust you again... You betrayed me in a way I don't know I'll be able to get over and a large part of me hates you for that." He saw Brian cringe slightly and felt his own pang of guilt.

"I know... but I once told you I'd do anything, be anything for you." They both actually smiled a little at that memory as Brian continued. "It took me a while to figure out just what that means... I have issues to deal with, Justin. I know that. Ones that I should have dealt with twenty years ago." He took Justin's face in both hands and whispered, "Please..."

Justin watched the little paper vessel floating out on the Hudson, ducking in and out of the wake of a small motor boat. This one Brian had fashioned. He gazed over at him and saw the hope on his face as he watched the catamaran on the water. Two little boats, cinched together so they couldn't separate when a force pulled one side or the other. It was merely symbolic, they both knew. It really meant nothing about the chances of them even being friends in the long run. But... maybe it was a start.