“When we were little we made houses out of

cardboard boxes. We can do anything. It’s not because

our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we

struggle with.”

—

Brian sometimes forgets that he’s allowed to be happy now. He’s spent his entire adult life so focused on striving for more, always uneasy with becoming complacent, that settling into something stable, something constant, is like learning to walk all over again.

He has more now than he ever imagined he would. It is utterly terrifying. That’s the one thing they never tell you, how unnerving it can be to have everything you want. How the fear of losing it is oftentimes worse than the ache of never having it at all. How you don’t know what it means to have enough when you’ve always hungered for more.

Three years after Justin moved to New York, Brian finally joined him. Three years of desperate fucks in airport restrooms because three weeks is far too long to be apart and they couldn’t wait a moment longer. Three years of waiting for the weekend. Three years of dreaming about the end of the month when they would come together again. Three years of wanting... Wanting... Wanting.

Then, suddenly, it all just fell into place.

—

“The lawn drowned, the sky on fire,

the gold light falling backward through the glass

of every room. I’ll give you my heart to make a place

for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger.”

—

They are so very good for one another. Brian always worried that a life like this, a life they built together, would become boring and monotonous sooner or later, but sooner or later never came. Every day is passion, fire, white hot desperation.

Brian knows Justin’s body so wholly it feels like an extension of his own. It’s different now than it was back in Pittsburgh, somehow more complete. There is something electric about living inside of forever, in living with the knowledge that what you have together transcends time and has conquered great distances. Brian never thought he would have such a thing, and yet here he is.

Here they are.

They have breakfast together every morning and Brian finds himself hiding his smiles in coffee mugs, idly brushing Justin’s foot with his own beneath the table, tangling their fingers together reading the paper. They kiss slow, lazy, and Justin tastes like bitter coffee. They fuck on the countertop and on the floor. Their food sits uneaten, forgotten, ice cold, because more often than not they’re far too busy devouring one another.

—

“Moonlight making crosses on your body,

and me putting my mouth on every one.”

—

It is still very hard for Brian to tell Justin that he loves him, but sometimes he just has to. He says it very quietly, pressing kisses into his back. He shouts it at the top of his lungs in the middle of a fight. He breathes it as an afterthought just before they drift off to sleep.

But most days, most nights, the words don’t need to be spoken. Justin splashes his affirmations on canvas. Brian sees himself in every color, knows the nights they spend wrapped up in each other will be brought to life by his brush, a vivid proclamation of their love.

Brian speaks with his whole body, makes declarations with the swirl of his tongue, the strength of his hands. The bruises left on Justin’s hips become his vows to love, to cherish, from this day until their last. Sometimes he needs to speak the words, but most days he does not. The press of every part of him against every part of the man he loves says more than simple syntax ever could.

—

“The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I’m alive.”

—

They argue all the time, it’s part of who they are, a side effect of perpetual passion. Brian becomes convinced that they’re doing it on purpose, bickering the way they do. The makeup sex is something otherworldly.

They fight about the most mundane things. Justin leaving his dirty socks on the floor. Brian’s affinity for putting things on top of the fridge that in no way belong there. Justin using all of Brian’s fancy toothpaste. Brian stealing all of Justin’s favorite pens.

They fight just like they fuck, fiery and hot, and when they crash together in the aftermath it’s like a new realization. This is where they are meant to be, right here, for better, for worse, all tangled up together.

This is what it means to live, to breathe, to feel.

—

“I made this place for you. A place for you to love me.

If this isn’t the kingdom then I don’t know what is.”

—

Brian still has nightmares about that night. Justin’s blood is on his face and in his hair. He tastes it on his tongue, it pools around his ankles. His future lies broken, denied, lifeless in his arms.

He wakes with his heart racing, his body aching, reaching out for Justin and feeling himself calm as soon as their bodies make contact. Those are the nights they make love like they are starving. Those are the nights that Brian clings to him like he’s drowning, Justin’s steady presence the only thing keeping him afloat.

The future belongs to them, this house they have made a home, but the past never really falls away completely. Dark days will come, then pass, and they will still be holding on together.

—

“We were in the gold room where everyone

finally gets what they want, so I said What do you

want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me.”

—

Brian dreams he is in a garden, yellow flowers at his feet. His skin is made of glass, and he is suddenly very aware of how terrified that should make him. But he forgets to be afraid, can’t really feel it at all, not with Justin a strong and steady presence at his side.

They become the flowers. The float away in the wind.

Brian dreams he is in a forest, and Justin is the sunlight streaming in between the trees. Golden rays play across his face and he is smiling. He closes his eyes, makes a wish, but can’t remember what he is hoping for. He opens his eyes, he remembers.

He already has it all.