It’s been raining off and on all night. When it rains, it pours.

Nothing is moving fast enough. Nothing. Not my hands, not my feet, not the stairs, not the traffic lights. The rain isn’t even falling fast enough. And the guy who’s in front of me, halfway letting me follow him into the building is definitely moving too slow. He needs to mind his own fucking business.

“You live here?”

“Yeah, move.” I shove past him and take the stairs two at a time until I get to the door.

Fatigue.

Deep breath.

Knock.

Nothing.

I knock again. One. Two. Three. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” I hear voices.

“Is Hunter here? Is he in his room?”

“It’s Brian. His car’s outside.” And then the chain rattling. And then the door opening. I see Ben’s sleepy face. I hear Michael. The Novotny-Bruckner clan goes to bed early.

“He’s here Ben. He’s in his room.”

“Justin, hey…” I put my hand on the door. I can’t do much more. This is Ben. Getting past him is like getting past the Great Wall of China.

“I need to see Michael. Now.” He yields the door and Michael is standing there, shirtless in sweatpants. His face couldn’t look more lost.

“Hey. What’s up? You look like sh--.”

“Why’d you tell him?”

“Tell him what? Tell who what?” He needs to get that fucking innocent look off of his face.

“Don’t stand there and act like you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Okay, well then I’ll just tell you. I don’t know what the fuck you're talking about." He is so full of shit. Ben looks like he’s watching an exciting game of ping pong, but I know he’ll come to Michael’s rescue any minute. So I guess this is it.

“You had to do it, didn’t you? You had to be the one to tell him what I was doing? You couldn’t let me have one chance, one fucking moment with Brian that was just mine—just ours. You fucking couldn’t do it!” Breathe. My tears competing with my anger. My anger’s winning out. “Fuck you, Michael. Fuck. You. And to think that I thought that we were partners, colleagues, on this mother fucking comic book bullshit—but you know what—that’s not even it is it? It’s just another way for you to be involved with him, isn’t it? Well, you can find someone else to illustrate your unfulfilled, unrequited, pathetic excuse for a fantasy life!”

My screaming finally stops because I can’t cry and fuck with my keys at the same time, my wet hands struggling to remove the key to the loft from my key chain. Michael looks dumbfounded as I throw it at him. It hits his chest and lands on the floor, just a few feet where I am now, sliding down the door frame, my face in my hands.

I’m crying so hard I’m choking.

I wait for Michael to say something or Ben to lecture me, but no one says anything. The next time I speak isn’t as loud, but my body keeps jerking from crying so hard.

“Did it dawn on you Michael that I wanted to tell him myself, needed to tell him myself in my own way? That I needed time to figure out how to tell him that I have to leave? Did it?”

Finally, after what seems like fucking forever, Michael speaks too quietly, picking up the key. “I didn’t tell him, and I don’t need this. I have one.”

“You didn’t tell him?” I have the hiccups. Ben brings me some water. Always the healer.

“He already knew.” I look up from my water when I hear a noise. Hunter is standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

“Is it safe to come out here now? What the fuck is going on?” Shit, the last thing I need is to deal with him. Ben can tell, I guess. He walks into Hunter’s room with him and closes the door.

“So you didn’t tell Brian about your job offer?” Michael attempts to put the pieces together.

“No. I couldn’t figure out how to tell him. If you didn’t tell him, I don’t know how he found out.”

“He knew when he came by the store today. He told me you were taking the job.” We're both quiet for a minute, both of us looking at each other like we don't even know each other's names.

“How the fuck would he know I was taking a job when he didn’t know I had a job to take?” Ben emerges from Hunter’s room checking to see if everything’s calmed down.

“It’s okay. Everything’s fine.” Hunter runs out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. I think I’ve actually seen him wearing clothes inside this apartment once. I’ve seen him in his underwear at least seven. “When Brian came by the store today, I asked him if you were taking the job, and he said you were. So he knew.”

“Well how the fuck did you know? I didn’t tell you about the job offer.” I’m so fucking confused right now. I have a bitch of a headache.

“Brett told me. He called me today…….and told me. Oh, wait….that was when….”

“When what?”

“He was there when I was talking to Brett. I asked him then if you were taking the job. Oh shit. Shit. Justin, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. But why the fuck didn’t you tell him in the first place?” Michael will blame himself for only so long, I guess. I don’t know what to think. I’m really fucking pissed at him right now.

“I have about one hundred and one reasons, but I guess I just don’t want things to change.” He nods. I think he gets it now, feels like he’s felt this way before. “For once, Michael, he’s starting to open up to me. He’s finally letting me love him back. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for that?” I just finished off his box of Kleenex. Brian lets me love him back in increments, never all at once. He rations it, gives you only what you need to survive. It’s become a comfortable cruelty between us.

“Yeah, I do. You've waited longer than anybody should have to, and longer than anyone else ever would have. Believe me, I know exactly what you mean.” Michael’s walked this path so many more times than I have, but I’m catching up. I know the shortcuts. Ben isn’t in the room right now, but I know that if he was, Michael would've never let those words come out of his mouth. I stand up and hand him his empty Kleenex box. He laughs.

“I’m sorry I came over here and queened out all over your ass.” I am. It wasn’t his fault. He laughs and tells me I’m not getting anywhere near his ass and offers me a brand new box of Kleenex for the road. I decline, but he makes me smile.

“Are you gonna be all right?” Fuck if I know.

“Yeah. I just need to clear my head, to think.” I’m in the hallway, ready to leave. He hugs me. I’m pulling away when I remember. “Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“If he calls…”

“Haven’t seen you. You’re not here.”

“Thanks.”

***************************************************************************************************************

There are few things more exhilarating than driving Brian’s corvette, not that I do it often. I can get into his ass quicker than I can get behind the wheel of this car. I feel powerful. In control.

Something about driving back to the loft knowing that he’s waiting for me and not the other way around, gives me a rush. Drive down Liberty Avenue in this car and a hundred guys will cruise you just for the fucking car, or maybe they think I’m Brian Kinney at first glance. That’s probably it. Then they take a better look and think, “Oh, that’s Brian Kinney’s bottom boy.” It pisses me off that I’m so proud of that.

I park in front of the loft to collect my thoughts.

Three cigarettes later and a lot of pacing back and forth in front of our building, and I’m nowhere. Where do I want to be? I can’t answer any of the questions that are cluttering up my brain. And I know if I walk back in there that we’ll be fucking in no time. We’ll never talk. No more pacing during the fourth cigarette. Maybe I can think better if I stand still.

Doesn’t matter. Time waits for no man.

He’s standing right in front of me. It's now or never.