**Justin's POV**

"Have you ever been in love before?" Brian asked me.

I felt warmth spread over my body. "Yeah," I said, smiling involuntarily.

I had thought a few times in the past that I might have been in love, and I had even said that I loved the guys out loud, but I was wrong. I realized the day before when Brian made me cry- no, my eyes weren't watering because of allergies- that I really did love him. Just the fact that his rejection, whether it was honest or not, had that effect on me showed how deeply I felt for him. It's common for a counselor to care for a patient, to feel bad for them and hope that they can eventually find happiness in their life, but this went way beyond that. I almost didn't care that I was setting myself up for heartbreak, since I knew that he would be going back to Pittsburgh in ten days and I would most likely never see or hear from him again.

"What's that like?" he asked. "I mean, I love my son more than life itself, and I love my friends, but..."

"Being in love is different," I said, looking into his mesmerizing hazel eyes. "It's... it's when you can hardly bear to be away from that person for even a single minute. When you're apart, you physically ache for them and count the minutes until you get to see them again. And when you reunite, you just feel... complete. Like there's nothing else in the world you need but them. You feel like your entire life up until the moment you met them was meaningless, and the only thing that matters to you is the time you spend with them."

Brian stared at me with an almost whimsical expression for a few more seconds before breaking into a smile. "Wow... that was the most lesbionic shit I've ever heard."

He chuckled as my heart crumbled. You know how sometimes you wish that the floor would split open and swallow you whole? Yep, that would have been just perfect at that moment. "Um... anyway." I bit my bottom lip to keep the flood gates closed. "Have you ever kept a journal before?"

"Yeah, when I was a kid. I mostly just wrote about what a bastard Jack was and how much I hated the kids at school."

I stood up and retrieved a spiral notebook from my desk. "Well, I think it would be good for you to start a new one."

"Are you gonna start giving me homework now?" he asked as I handed the notebook to him.

"At the end of our sessions, I'll give you a suggestion for something to write about that day, but it's up to you whether you want to write in it or not. I'll never ask to read your journal, because it'll be just for your thoughts. You can keep it in your room somewhere, or one of the techs can put it in a big envelope and lock it up in the security office, if you're afraid of someone reading it."

"Oh, I'm sure Mel would love to read my dirtiest secrets," he said as he sat the notebook on the floor next to his shoes. "What would you like me to write about today, Mr. Taylor?"

"You can write about the progress you feel you've made in your treatment so far, and anything else you hope to accomplish before you leave here. We can talk about those things tomorrow, if you'd like. Also, starting next week, we're going to be talking about your plans for the future, as in what you hope to do once you get back home. It's a given that you'll need to make some changes in your life, if you hope to get your addiction under control. You can start making a list of those things, including any short term and long term goals you have for yourself."

"Do you keep a journal?" he asked.

"No, when I feel the urge to put my thoughts down on paper, I draw or paint. I haven't painted anything just for myself in a long time, though."

He pointed to an abstract painting over my desk. "Did you paint that?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that was my senior project in my high school art class."

We both stared at the painting, which had dark shades of red, purple, and green splashed on the canvas in various shapes. "I'm guessing that you weren't in a good mood when you painted it."

"No. I started working on it right after my dad moved out and I had mailed my acceptance letter to NYU. My parents' marriage and my dream of being an artist were both officially over."

"Did you get an A on it?" he asked.

"Yep."

We spent the rest of the hour talking about art. He told me that his son's mother Lindsay used to teach art and now works in a gallery in Toronto, and that they met in an Art History class at Penn. He surprised me by naming some of his favorite artists, as they weren't well-known.

Nick, or "The Ram" as I had heard he likes to be called, knocked on the door a few minutes after one o'clock. "Sorry to interrupt, fellas," The Ram said as Brian put his shoes back on and picked up the notebook.

"That's okay," he said to The Ram. Brian looked over at me and said, "I have some phone calls to make."

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

After The Ram and I were finished with our session, I walked around the building in search of Hobbs. I would have rather just forgotten about what happened in my car the evening before, but I just couldn't. I found Hobbs with his cleaning cart in the gym, which made me remember what had once happened between us while cleaning a gym. Luckily, there weren't any patients working out at the time, so we were alone to talk.

"Hey," I said to him as I pulled the door closed.

"Hey," he said quietly while wiping off the big mirror on the wall with a paper towel.

"So what the hell was that last night?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

He sighed and looked at his reflection. "I... I really don't know. I mean, I didn't plan for that to happen."

"But why did it?" I asked. "Are you gay or bi now?"

"No," he answered gruffly. "I'm not a fag."

I walked over to him so I was standing just a couple of feet away. "Well then, what were you doing kissing a fag last night, Chris? And why did you let that same fag jerk you off five years ago?"

He thought about it for a few seconds, but turned around and tossed the towels onto his cart. "I have to get over to the dining room."

Before he could start pushing his cart out of the room, I grabbed him by the arm. "Answer me."

He looked down at my hand on his arm, but didn't try to remove it. "I guess that I was just... curious," he whispered.

I tilted my head in confusion. "About what? What is was like to have another man touch you?"

He finally met my eyes. "What it was like to have you touch me... back then and last night."

I glanced up at the security camera in the corner of the room and pulled my hand away. "You were obviously ashamed about what I did to you back then, otherwise you wouldn't have acted like such a dickhead to me afterwards."

"I was only ashamed because I liked it, because I was afraid that it meant that I was gay. I've never wanted to do anything like that with any other guy, but I never stopped thinking about that day. Sometimes I've imagined what it would have been like to... do more with you."

I was about tell him that it was never going to happen when the door opened and a woman from another program walked in to work out. Without another word, Hobbs grabbed his cart and backed it out into the hallway.

**Brian's POV**

I was on the phone in the Common Room with Cynthia as she was telling me the good news. One of the other agents that worked with Carol contacted one of her clients, a singer that I had never heard of but one that Cynthia said was the lead of a rock group that had won a few Grammys that year, and said that he was interested in being the new face of the Carter campaign.

"Me and Ted will fly out to LA in the morning to meet with him at Carter's office. Hopefully, Carter approves of him and offers him a big wad of cash," Cynthia said. "I just wish you could come with us."

"Me too," I said.

"Well, I hope you're having lots of fun in Ibiza," she said.

"Theodore's in the room with you, isn't he?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Ah... well, tell him that I fucked a matador yesterday."

"Will do, boss," she said, giggling. "I'll give you a call after the meeting tomorrow."

I hung up the phone and paused with my hand over the receiver for a few moments. There wasn't anyone waiting to use it after me, and I figured that I may as well get it over with. After dialing the familiar number, I waited while it rang three times.

"Hello?"

"Hey Deb, it's Brian," I said to my surrogate mother.

"Hi Honey!" she yelled. "How are ya?"

"I'm fine. I almost called the diner, but I remembered that you're usually off on Thursdays."

I heard what sounded like a chair being scrapped across the floor. I pictured Deb on the old cream-colored phone attached to the kitchen wall and taking a seat at the table. "Yep, I've just been puttering around here all day, watching Lifetime. Carl won't be getting off from work for a few more hours. So, what's it like in Spain? Is it fabulous?"

I took a deep breath. "That's what I'm calling about, Deb. There's something I have to tell you."

"What, Honey? Are you okay?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

"If I tell you this, will you promise that you won't repeat it to anyone, especially Mikey? I want to be the one to tell him, and I don't want the whole neighborhood knowing about it until I get back."

"Brian, you're scaring me," she said. "Just tell me what the fuck is wrong."

"Promise me, Deb."

"Yes, Goddamn it, I promise! Did the cancer come back? Are you in the hospital again?" She had every reason to think that, as I had lied and said that I was going to Miami when I actually went to John Hopkins Hospital to have my ball removal surgery the year before.

"No, it's nothing like that," I assured her, and paused as she sighed heavily. "I had my last check up a couple months ago, and everything was fine. I'm actually at a rehab facility in Manhattan, in the sex addiction program."

Just like Cynthia did when I told her the day before, Deb responded with an "Oh."

"Yeah... I've decided that I need to make some changes in my life."

She snapped her gum. "Well, I'd say that it's about fucking time. You're not a kid anymore, Brian. You're too old to go be going out fuckin' and suckin' all over town, you know."

I shook my head at her bluntness. "Thanks, Ma."

"You need to find yourself a good man, settle down, and give Gus some siblings," she said in her authoritative tone.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't know about that, but I never thought I'd end up at a place like this..."

"See? That's why you should never say never," she said. "So are you doing okay there?"

"Yeah, it's a little boring, though. Plus, they roomed me with a lesbian."

Deb gave me her signature cackle. "You poor baby."

"Well, it's only for another ten days. But anyway, I'll let you get back to Lifetime."

"Okay, Honey. You take care," she said. "Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything."

I said good-bye and hung up. I gave her about a fifty-fifty shot of actually keeping mum about it.

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

The evening session began with the topic of depression being a factor in addictive behavior and quickly turned into nearly everyone comparing shitty relationship stories, which of course left me out as I had never had a relationship before. I stared at Justin while the others bitched and moaned. One of Melanie's college girlfriends only messed around with her to piss off her parents. Nick's first ex-wife stole and pawned a guitar of his that was autographed by Aerosmith's Joe Perry when she caught him cheating. Julie's high school sweetheart broke up with her at their prom and left with another girl in the limo her parents rented. Connie revealed that her college boyfriend didn't tell her that he was married with a baby on the way.

After the session ended, I said bye to Justin, deciding that I would wait until tomorrow to tell him about my phone call with Debbie. I got a plate of baked chicken and garlic mashed potatoes and took it to my room to eat in private. I decided to begin writing in my journal between bites.

June 9

Justin suggested that I start keeping a journal, so here goes. Today, Justin made me realize how important it is to have a support system once I get back home to the Pitts at the end of next week. Trouble is, I really don't have a support system.

Sure there's Cynthia, who I rely on not just to help keep my company in order, but to keep me in order, too. But she is my employee, not my friend. We never "hang out" outside of the office, since work is the only thing we have in common.

It surprises me to admit that Ted has become a really good friend of mine over the past couple of years, as well as one of my most trusted employees. I bust his balls a lot, especially since he and Blake have gotten back together, about him being a silly old queen, but I envy him... a little. He worked through his crystal addiction and came out a better man at the end. Although they got off to a rocky start, he and Blake are very happy together. Yep, Ted Schmidt is actually happy, and Blake is a big reason for that. However, Ted shouldn't have to worry about me. He has his own sobriety to maintain, and these days he spends most of his free time at home with Blake.

I know that Deb will always be there for me, and she's never afraid to let me know when I've gone too far. Although she said that she would "slow down" at the diner, she still puts in 40+ hours a week. Plus she has PFLAG and Horvath to take care of. She shouldn't have to babysit me. I've given her enough gray hairs under that wig of hers.

I hate to say it, but I can hardly call Mikey my friend these days. He and the Professor are living in Heteroville with their kids. Hunter is a senior in high school and Mikey is the devoted sports dad, attending all of Hunter's track meets and soccer games. When he's not doing that, he's at home with their new adopted baby, up to his ass in dirty diapers and bottles. He even sold the comic book store to be a stay at home dad. He hasn't been to Babylon since we re-opened after the bombing, and even then he and Ben only stayed for an hour. He has no time to worry about me.

Although I know I will always have Linds and Gus, they've made their own little life in Toronto that doesn't involve me. I hoped that their move to Toronto would be just temporary, that Linds would realize that she overreacted after the bombing and would eventually come home. At this point, that doesn't seem likely. Linds found a job at a gallery in Toronto and she teaches art classes at a retirement home twice a week, and she loves it. She's even painting again, which she stopped doing for several years while living in the Pitts. Gus starts preschool in the fall, and Linds said he can hardly wait. Wendy left Neverland the day that Gus was born.

Justin said that I should start thinking about what I need to do once I get back home to keep my addiction "under control." I don't have the slightest idea of how I will do that. He said that I should make a list of my long and short term goals, but I really don't have any. Besides Kinnetik, I have nothing and no one for me waiting at home. I don't really know what's in store for me once I leave this place. I'm almost don't want to leave.