Who do you need?

Who do you love?

When you come undone?

"Come Undone"- Duran Duran

**Justin's POV**

"So what are you gonna do now?" Daphne asked me the evening after I got fired. It didn't matter if the record showed that I "formally resigned"- they fired my ass to save their own.

"Fuck if I know," I said as I scraped the bottom of a Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey carton with a spoon.

I had ignored Daph's silly "no ice cream in the house" rule on the way home from the treatment facility and bought two cartons to cheer myself up. I had spent the afternoon making my way through them while Daphne was at school taking her summer classes. I told Daph that it was either ice cream or cigarettes. She said that she would rather see me rot my teeth with sugar than slowly kill myself with cigarettes, so she was bending her rule for me today.

"Ooh, I know!" Daph said, grabbing my shoulder. "We ought to go find Hobbs and beat the shit out of him."

I chuckled. "Yeah, that'd be fun... but I still wouldn't have a job afterward."

"Well, at least that homophobic asshole you call your father said that you didn't have to work while you're still in school," she said.

"No, the homophobic asshole only pays for my tuition and living expenses because it's part of my parents' divorce agreement," I reminded her. "Not because he wants to out of the kindness of his heart or anything."

Of course, part of the agreement was that I had to attend NYU to get the money. But it wasn't as if he couldn't afford it- Craig was a multi-millionaire with a chain of electronics stores all along the east coast. He made a ton of money in the stock market during the "dot-com bubble" and sold his stocks to expand his company before the bubble burst in 2000. Even with what he paid for my and Molly's tuitions and expenses, along with our mom's sizable monthly alimony, Craig could still easily afford his million dollar penthouse apartment on the Upper West Side, a villa in France, and according to Molly, to keep his new bimbo wife in furs and diamonds.

"But it's still nice to make my own money," I said. "It gave me some independence from the old bastard."

"So get a new job," Daph said. "Or just devote your time and energy to earning your PhD."

I stared into the empty carton. "I'm not sure I want to do that anymore."

"Do what?" she asked, a worried look on her face. "Earn your PhD?"

"Yeah."

"Wh... what?!" she sputtered. "You get fired from your first counseling job, and now you don't even want your doctorate anymore?"

"No... I've been thinking about this for the last few days, and I-"

"The last few days since he walked into your life," she said accusatorily. We both knew which he Daphne was referring to. He had been the main thing on my mind for the past seven days. Knowing that he was now almost 400 miles away from me was torture.

"I've been thinking," I said, ignoring her last statement, "that it's about damned time that I start doing what I want to be doing with my life. The only reason that I got into psychology in the first place was because Craig forced me to go to NYU instead of SVA like I wanted."

SVA stood for the School of Visual Arts, which I had applied to in my senior year of high school. Out of thousands of applications submitted for the one hundred slots available for the fall term, I got accepted. It broke my heart the day I mailed in the letter saying that I wouldn't be attending, after Craig refused to pay for it. The campus was just a stone's throw away from our apartment, and I drove past it nearly every day. I almost always glanced over at the building and dreamt of what could have been.

"Psychology was the only thing that interested me. If I earn my doctorate, then that's it; I'll be a psychologist for the rest of my life. Sure, I'll be making a comfortable living, but I won't be happy. Art makes me happy."

"You could combine your counseling degree with your artistic skills and be an art therapist," Daphne said.

I nodded. "That's exactly what I was thinking. Maybe one day I'll be able to be an artist full time, but then I'd still have my counseling degree to fall back on."

"But you know he still won't pay for you to go to art school, especially if that means forgoing your PhD," she said.

"I know, but I can't rely on Craig's money for the rest of my life. Besides, I'm old enough to file for student loans on my own now, and I could probably get some grants, too."

"It's too late for you to be accepted into any school for the fall. Maybe you could start going in January, if you get a portfolio together and apply to all the art schools in the city now," she suggested.

"Well, there is one school in particular that I've been looking at online for the past couple days," I said, still staring into the empty carton of ice cream, as if I could magically make more appear.

"Which one?"

"PIFA."

I looked over at Daph and saw her crinkle her nose. "I don't think I've heard of that one. What does that stand for?"

I bit my lip before saying, "The Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts."

Three Months Later...

**Brian's POV**

Less than a week after getting home from Manhattan, I decided to take Justin's advice and enroll myself in out-patient treatment for my sex addiction. I wanted to believe that I could control my urges without any help, but the first night I went to Babylon to "check on it," I was three tricks in before the truth really hit me. No matter how much of a stubborn asshole I was, I couldn't do this alone.

Knowing that they had both overcome addictions of their own, I asked Theodore and Blake to come to my place for dinner the evening after my epiphany. After telling them the truth about where I had been during my week away, they both assured me that I would not have to go through this alone, that they would be there for me whenever I needed someone to talk to. Blake recommended me to a sex addiction specialist named Sarah Bates, who worked at the treatment center he worked at.

Although it was a bit difficult for me at first, I soon warmed up to Sarah. Besides Deb, who was basically a fag minus the genitalia, I had never talked to a straight woman about my sex life before. After a few sessions, Sarah began urging me join a sex addict's support group, which I at first refused to even consider. She also recommended that I try to abstain from sex for thirty days. I challenged myself to do it, but started losing my mind after the first week.

I then broke down and started attending meetings with a group that met at the Gay and Lesbian Center every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening. I used to joke with people and say that the GLC was only for fags and dykes that couldn't get laid. Turns out, it's also for fags and dykes that want to stop getting laid so much. With my twice-weekly sessions with Sarah, attending every support group meeting, and avoiding every club and sexual establishment on Liberty Avenue, I made it through the first month without sticking my dick into another person. It was also during that month that I sold Babylon, and I anonymously donated the proceeds of the sale to the GLC and the local AIDS hospice.

Following Sarah's advice after my thirty-day vow of chastity was over, I began going on dates a few times a week. Yes, Brian Kinney has actually gone on real dates. Once I told Mikey, Deb, Theodore, and Cynthia of my plan, they started throwing eligible bachelors at me left and right. Believe it or not, some of those dates didn't even end in sex and I never fucked a waiter during any of them. While I did meet a few decent guys- some I saw more than once- I didn't feel a real spark with any of them. No matter how nice he was or how great he was in bed, there was always someone else on my mind.

I had spent the last three months trying to forget about Justin, telling myself that anything I thought I felt for him during my six days in Manhattan was nothing but sexual attraction and temporary insanity. However even after three months, I still couldn't get him out of my mind. I saw his face on every blonde twink I passed on the street. I thought about him while fucking another man and couldn't help comparing the man to him. I dreamt about him numerous times. I would picture his beautiful sunshine smile to help quell stress at work. I hoped that it was him nearly every time my cell phone rang. Although I thought that time would make me forget about him, it only made me miss him more.

No matter how much I missed him though, I forced myself to leave him alone. I still had his cell number programmed into my phone and his business card was still in my wallet. Besides my memories, that card was the only piece of him I had. In my rush to get my suitcase packed at the treatment center, I forgot to grab the sketch he drew of me. I would often take the card out and look at it, no matter how much of a lesbian that made me. I tried to either delete his number or throw his card away several times, but I couldn't. Even if I did, I still had the number committed to memory.

I would often remember when the subject of being "in love" came up during one of my sessions with Justin. At the time, I truly didn't know what being in love with someone was like. He told me that when you're in love with someone, you physically ache for them when you're apart. I thought that was impossible at the time, but now I know exactly what he was talking about.

"Brian?"

"Huh?" I asked, snapping out of my thoughts and looking up.

"Did you have anything to share with us today?" a femme named Lisa, the leader of the support group, asked me from her place at the podium.

"Um... no," I said. When I first joined the group, I thought that I would be merely an observer. I've never really minded public speaking, as long as I wasn't talking about anything about myself personally. During my fourth time at group however, I gathered the guts to get up there and share a few things about myself. I forced myself to get up there at least once every three or four meetings. Tonight, I wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Okay," Lisa said. "Anyone else?"

When no one else volunteered to speak, Lisa dismissed our meeting.

I walked down the hallway towards the front of the building, which passes through a large room where banquets and other events are held. From seeing the flyers and signs posted for the last couple of weeks, I knew that there was going to be an art show held there the next day. As I walked into the room, I saw that there were several people setting up for the show. Many of them were hanging drawings, paintings, and photos on the walls.

Since I wasn't planning on coming to the show, I stopped and looked at a few of the things that were already displayed. Not surprisingly, many of the pieces were of naked men and women. I diverted my eyes when I came across a painting of two naked women kissing. Gross...

I looked across the other side of the room and gasped slightly when I saw a trim blonde man in a red t-shirt and jeans that had his back to me as he hung what appeared to be painting of a naked man on the wall. Much like I had with nearly every blonde man I had seen from a distance over the past three months, I wondered for a few seconds whether or not it could be Justin.

I shook my head, knowing that Justin was in Manhattan, most likely back at school. Itching for a cigarette, I started to head to the door.

"Brian!" I heard the unmistakable voice yell behind me.

I stopped in my tracks, but refused to turn around for several seconds.

"Brian," he repeated. I could hear his footsteps coming towards me.

Slowly I turned around. "Sunshine?" I asked, wondering if I was dreaming as I stared down into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Hey," he said before reaching up to wrap his arms around my shoulders.

I took a deep breath and immediately recognized his smell. I returned his hug, squeezing him tightly as if he was going to disappear any second.

After telling myself that I was definitely awake, I pulled away from him as I shook my head in confusion. "What... how...?"

"Come here," he said as he grabbed onto my hand. "I want to show you my stuff."

He pulled me over to where he had hung the painting. I stared at his profile with my mouth open as he looked at it, our hands still clasped together. Christ, he's acting as if we haven't been apart for the last three months, like he's been here all along!

"What the fuck are you doing here, Justin?" I asked him, finally able to put a sentence together.

He turned his head to look at me. "I live here now," he said almost nonchalantly.

I felt my eyebrows go halfway up my forehead. "Since when? And why?"

"Well, I don't work at the treatment center anymore-"

"Why not?" I asked, almost yelling even though he was standing right in front of me. "Did you quit?"

"Eh... yes and no. That's not important," he said, waving his other hand to dismiss the question. "Anyway, I decided that I wasn't going to get my PhD and that I wanted to go to art school instead."

"But that doesn't explain why you're here," I said.

He shrugged. "I heard that the PIFA was a great school-"

"There are several art schools in New York," I interrupted again.

He gave me that sunshine smile. "I know."

"Then why did you come all the way to Pittsburgh to go to art school?"

He dropped my hand and reached up to place both hands on the sides of my neck. "I came here to be with you, dumbass."

Despite the insulting name, I couldn't help but smile. "You did?"

He nodded as his eyes started to glisten with tears. "I told my dad that I wasn't going back to NYU, and he cut me off just like I knew he would. Luckily Daphne was able to find a new roommate, and I moved into my mom's spare room. I got my acceptance letter for the PIFA's winter term about two weeks ago, and I packed all I could fit into my car and drove here. Once I got here though, I was too chicken shit to call you until I found a job and got my own place. I was afraid you might tell me to stop being a silly little faggot and to go back home."

"I wouldn't have said that," I told him before pulling him into another hug. "I wish you would have called me when you first applied to the school. Where've you been staying?"

"I stayed at a motel for a couple nights before coming here to see if they could hook me up with some cheap housing. That's when I heard about the art show. I'm staying at the Vaseline Tower now."

I pulled away to look at him in horror. "That shit hole?"

"It's all I can afford. Campus housing isn't available until the first week of January."

"No, no, no," I said, shaking my head. "You're coming home with me."

Did I really just invite him to live with me? I sure did... and I wanted nothing more.

He put his arms around me again as he whispered into my ear, "I couldn't live without you, Brian. Well, I could... but I don't want to."

I had to squeeze my eyes closed to hold back tears of my own that were threatening to fall. "Good." I grabbed his face to give him a kiss.

After I released him, he used his sleeve to wipe his eyes. "Uh... you gonna look at your painting now?"

My painting? I turned to look at what he was talking about and saw that the naked man on the canvas was me.

"Wow," I said. Even from memory, the painting was a perfect likeness. It showed me lying on my back in bed asleep, the blanket pulled down to reveal my fully engorged cock. I turned to look at the sketch next to it, which showed me in the midst of unbuttoning my shirt, my toned chest peaking out. There were two other sketches on the other side of the painting. One showed me without a shirt on with a slight smile on my face, and the other appeared to be of myself and Justin with me standing behind him with my arms around his bare torso. His head was turned to the side to kiss me on my neck.

"What do you think?" Sunshine asked me.

"The PIFA will be lucky to have you," I said as I looked back at the painting. I then turned and asked him, "Are you done here?"

"Yeah."

I put my arm around his shoulders. "Let's go home, Sunshine."

December 24, 2005

**Justin's POV**

"Which one do you want to open next, Sonny Boy?" Brian asked as we sat on Debbie's living room floor on Christmas Eve. Lindsay and Gus had flown in to Pittsburgh for the holidays and planned to spend the next day with her parents and sister. Brian and I were set to fly out to Manhattan that night to spend Christmas Day with my mom, Molly, and Daphne.

"Um... this one!" Gus yelled out before grabbing a box wrapped in Mickey and Minnie Mouse-themed holiday paper.

"This one's from Justin," Lindsay said, making sure to look at the gift tag before Gus ripped it apart.

A few days after moving in with Brian the night that I ran into him at the GLC, I was called into a job interview at the children's hospital at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center for a position as an art therapist. I got the job and I have loved it so far. I spend my days working with sick and injured children, helping them cheer up and recover through art. Even if I mostly just help the kids make stick figures, it is very fulfilling. I will be dropping down to part time once I begin my classes at the PIFA in a few weeks.

"Oh cool!" Gus said as he freed the Doctor Dreadful Zombie Lab I bought him. "Thank you Justin!"

"You're welcome." I looked at his mother and said, "I was hoping that he didn't have it already."

"No," Lindsay said as she looked at the zombie on the box wearily before smiling at me. "He certainly doesn't. I'm sure he'll have lots of fun with it."

"Well folks, Justin and I need to get going," Brian said as he picked himself up off the floor. "We have a plane to catch in a few hours."

I stood up and exchanged handshakes, hugs, and kisses with all of Brian's family members, which included Lindsay, Gus, Debbie, Carl, Ted, Blake, Michael, Ben, Hunter, and baby Lizzie. I guess that they are all my family now, too.

After putting on our coats and gathering up the presents we had each received that day, Brian and I walked out of Debbie's house and began making our way down the street toward Brian's Corvette.

"We could have stayed a bit longer," I told Brian.

"I wanted to make love to that sweet ass of yours before we left for the airport," he said before leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek.

I was so proud of the progress that Brian had made since leaving the treatment center in Manhattan. He still regularly attended counseling sessions with his therapist, mostly to resolve his unsettled issues from his childhood, and group meetings at the GLC. Brian still enjoyed having sex on a daily basis, but it was always with me.

We put our presents in the trunk of the Corvette. Before I could walk over to the passenger side door to let myself in, Brian grabbed me and planted a hungry kiss on me.

"Have I told you how much I love you lately, Sunshine?"

"Mmm... I remember hearing you screaming it this morning in bed," I answered. "But it's always nice to hear it again."

"I love you, Mr. Taylor."

"I love you, too, Mr. Kinney."

**THE END**