“So, what are you doing with your day?” Brian asked Justin, coming up behind him and running his hands through still-damp hair. Ah, yes, why do showers have to run cold? And why do work weeks have to begin? Brian leaned in and pressed his chin against the top of Justin’s head, a pressure almost painful. Justin ducked out from beneath it and turned his head to the side, trying to focus on the computer, while a telling smile tugged at his lips. Brian drew his breath in sharply. Holy fuck, what that boy does to me, just sitting there… but wasn’t it the point that he was there? Oh, yeah, definitely, fuck it, home where he belonged. And it felt right, Brian hadn’t felt quite right with Justin across the country. Doomed, he thought, I’m so doomed. But he was smiling as he thought it. Who knew that giving up and giving in would be such… well, so okay?
Justin finally turned away from the web site he was examining, smiling upwards and reaching out to yank at the knot in his boyfriend’s tie. “I have a few things to take care of. Then, I thought I’d come by your place for lunch.”
“Where are you taking me?” Brian asked, straightening up and glancing around for the briefcase he’d left… there, by the door. Wow, smart of him, right where it should be.
“Anywhere you wanna go baby,” Justin drawled.
“Funny boy,” Brian breathed. “Be careful what you promise…”
“Words to live by,” Justin thought to himself as he watched Brian’s back, and the door closing behind him. He turned back to PIFA’s home page, noting that one of the professors he wanted to see had summer office hours. For the other three, he dashed off quick email messages, before shutting the computer down. Eight a.m. What in god’s name was he doing up at this hellish hour? Except that he was jazzed with the idea of getting started, and hey, an early morning shower with Brian was always a fabulous way to start the day, week, month, year, life.
And he had things to take care of.
He swiveled in the chair, and watched the early morning sun flood through the windows into the loft, and thought of how he could set up an easel over where the light bounced back, so the corner almost glowed with its reflected glory. Or maybe PIFA would let him have some studio space now, before fall classes began. He was looking forward to going back to school, settling in, having time for his art again. He crossed his hands over his stomach, and relaxed. The whole day stretched out, and he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Home. Right up to walking into the diner and back into Brian’s embrace Saturday night, right up to that point, he had felt so unsettled. Ever since the elections, getting kicked out of school… oh, hell, ever since not being able to graduate because he had been in a coma. Or since coming out, for that matter, running away from home… he hadn’t had a place he felt he belonged since taking his first steps out of childhood and into this man’s life. But now, watching the sun fall over the hard wood of the loft floors, imagining his ongoing work over there, against the window… lingering in his memory over the day before when everyone was finally gone and he and Brian had spent the rest of the day naked, lounging. And not lounging. He glanced into the bedroom, looked at the sketch of naked Brian where it hung, over the dresser, and smiled. Home. Home at last.
***
The bell over the comic shop door rang as Justin pushed his way in. It was just before 11:00; the shop was more or less empty prior to the usual lunch hour business. Michael looked up from the cash register, his lips thinning as he spotted who had entered. “Hey,” was all he said.
“Hi, I have to call Brett. Thought I’d do it from here.”
“Don’t let me interfere with your life,” Michael bit off, throwing the comic he had been looking at aside.
“Don’t be an asshole, Michael, what’s your problem?”
That stopped Michael, and he went still. He just looked over at Justin, and said nothing. Justin could see he had his thinking face on, considering, do I speak or not? Of course, Justin knew, Michael’s speaking was a foregone conclusion. It would come out eventually, sooner or later. So Justin continued, pressing for sooner. “Is it just me? Or is it Brian too? Come on, you seem to have enough to say when Brian’s around. Or is your bitching just for his benefit?”
“My first loyalty is to him,” Michael finally said. “Not to you. And to be honest, you have this fucked up way of jumping from spot to spot, looking for the softest cushion for that giant ass of yours to land on. I swear, the second anything gets rough, off you go, and if we’re lucky, so lucky for us, you may grace us with your presence again. If the next landing spot has proved disappointing, back you run.”
“It isn’t like that. And anyway, if Brian’s okay with it, why aren’t you?”
“He isn’t! He lets you go because what the fuck else is he supposed to do? You know he’s not one for holding people with guilt, he had too much of that crap from his own family. And besides, it helps him believe that he has some control over the whole situation, like he has a choice in what you do when he ‘lets’ you go off. He’s completely helpless to stop you, and you keep disappearing on him.”
“I do not. I may have been in California, but I didn’t leave him. So again, what’s your problem? Are you still in love with him?”
Michael laughed. “You know, Brian accused me of the same thing when you left yesterday. Jealousy.”
Really? Justin’s eyebrows shot up.
“But you’re both wrong, and you both piss me off.” Michael came out from behind the counter, then leaned back against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “Brian’s as close to me, if not closer, than a brother. That kind of tightness, you don’t just find it, it finds you, and I’m grateful every day that I have a friend in my life like him. He’s there, he’s solid. Despite what he says. And watching him pretend, even to himself, maybe especially to himself, that what he feels for you doesn’t rip him apart sometimes, and there’s nothing I can do about it… What can I do? Get mad at him for loving you? Or get angry at you for not taking better care with him?” Michael glared at the younger man standing across from him.
“Yeah, well, if I’m so awful for him, why does he stay with me?”
“Oh, we all know he also feels things on the other side of the spectrum, things he didn’t until you came into the picture. He may think that balances things out, but I don’t see it that way.”
Ode to Joy, Justin thought. He shows me how he feels, every day. He said, “I can’t answer this to your satisfaction right now, not in a way you’ll believe, and actually, Michael, I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not. I love him, and you’re just going to have to back off both of us, okay? Maybe in time you’ll see it, and stop hopping all over my case.”
“We’ll see,” Michael answered. “We’ll see.” They stared at each other, acknowledging an impasse. Then Michael picked up the comic he had thrown down, and put it back into the display next to the register. “So,” he continued, offering a truce in so many words, “What have you been up to since getting back?”
Justin replied, “I just got back from PIFA. One of my professors is giving me credit for the class I was suspended out of, as long as I turn in the final project. I’m pretty sure I can work the same arrangement for the other three classes, since they were paid in full, and I have a year to make up the incompletes. And the rest of the summer to finish the work. And as of one hour ago, I’m also registered for fall courses. And paid up for the year, with Rage movie money.”
Michael studied his face, and a small smile touched his lips. “Good for you.”
“Now, do you mind if I call Brett from the phone in back? And that will take care of my whole day’s ‘to do’ list. Except for lunch with The Man.”
“Yeah, hang on…” Michael crossed the room and locked the door, drawing the “Closed” sign down. “Five minutes won’t kill me.” He looked around, shook his head. “Obviously.”
They called Brett from the speaker phone in Michael’s back room.
“Hey, Brett, Justin Taylor. Michael’s here with me.”
“Hey, Michael, I see you found the stray. Talking some sense into him?”
“No, I think Justin’s sense has nothing to do with me.”
“Hm, sounds ominous.”
“Yeah, Brett, listen. The whole movie thing just wasn’t working out for me. It was a great opportunity, don’t get me wrong. But it just wasn’t working out the way I’d hoped.”
“Tom’s going to shit, you were one of the best assistants he ever had.”
Justin almost laughed. Man, he had been there, and still. The bullshit never stops flowing, he thought, but he only answered, “Yeah, well, I’m sure he’ll have no problem replacing me.”
“I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to replace you, Justin. We’re scheduled to start shooting tomorrow, Alan’s back on the set.”
“Well, hey, if you need consult work for anything, Michael and I are both a phone call away. And Michael’s the best one to consult on the reworking of the story board. You got the whole look down, my contribution would be minimal from here on out, anyway. And… I’ve got things to work on back here, instead of wasting time hanging out at parties with Connor.”
Silence for a moment from the other end. “Yeah, I guess I can understand that… well, look, I’m gonna run. I’m sure I’ll be in touch with you guys, keep you up to date.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Justin said.
“See ya, Brett,” Michael closed, and hit the off button. He frowned down at the telephone, then looked up at Justin. “Uh… that was weird. Did we agree to anything? Or was that, not in this lifetime?”
Justin burst out laughing. “Welcome to the world I just walked out of! Who the fuck knows?”
“So, do you think Rage is ever going to actually show up on the screen?”
“Once again, who knows? Do you care?”
“Well, more money would be nice… and actually, speaking of making more money, the buzz on the movie being in the works has spiked interest in the comic. Orders are way up. So I was thinking, we get at least two more issues out before the movie, because what if it’s a bomb? Then sales will tank. So we should get the new readers hooked on a couple more issues, or at least sell a bunch before the movie comes out. If it ever does.”
Justin shook his head, trying to keep up with the logic. Okay, so Michael wasn’t a complete fool. Actually, he was pretty slick when he felt he had something at stake.
“So, for the next issue…” And Michael was off, and they were back on more familiar ground, which was just fine with Justin, who was already imagining how to work in Rage actually sending flowers to JT. Maybe Rage could teleport the two of them to Giverny, the garden of Monet’s Japanese bridge, and they could make love in a grove of yellow and white roses with the bridge in the distance… He started laughing. Brian would kill him. It had to be done.
“Something funny?” Michael asked.
“Oh, just an idea. Tell me if this is too off character. Or if I’d survive publication…”
***
Through the windows of Brian’s office, Justin caught a glimpse of an angry Melanie. So that explained Cynthia’s absence from her desk. “Hey, Mel,” he said, as he pushed through the door.
Melanie straightened and glanced over at Justin. “Oh, hello, Justin. How are you?”
Wow, formal, Justin thought.
Brian wasn’t deterred from the conversation Justin had obviously interrupted, however. “It isn’t my fault you’ve moved a ready-made family into your house to replace the one you’d just gotten rid of. If Lindsay’s dating my assistant, hey. You want it fixed, fix it, but don’t forget that you put that barrier there yourself.”
“And you did nothing to help,” Melanie spat back.
“Why should I?” Brian returned. “I have a lunch date, you’ll have to excuse me. Fix your own life.” He turned to Justin, who came over, into his arms to be squeezed. “I’ve got my own shit to deal with. We’re not done missing each other yet.” He sat back in his chair, pulling Justin with him. “So, unless you want to witness some heavy petting…”
Melanie fled, and Justin extracted himself to sit on the desk. He didn’t like sitting on Brian’s lap in his office, it made him feel so… trivialized. Brian placed his hands on Justin’s knees, tapping out a rhythm. “So… lunch?” Brian was eyeing the bulge facing him at close to eye level.
Justin answered, “So, I’m shit to be dealt with?”
Brian looked up at him with ridiculously flirtatious eyes. “Skipped right over the missing each other, heavy petting parts, hm. You really are too focused on the negative, Sunshine.”
“Okay, fine… you missed me, then? How much?”
Brian continued to tap out a beat on his knees, a strange smile playing over his mouth.
“Brian?”
The taps settled down, and Brian’s fingers smoothed tiny paths up and down Justin’s knees, running onto his thighs, tracing the tender flesh on the inside of his legs. Justin could feel himself start to respond to this and almost groaned, damn, not in the office. “Brian…”
Brian looked up, and bit his lower lip before he released it, looking, really looking into Justin’s face. “You know,” he said. He hesitated. Justin knew when to keep his mouth shut; he waited. Brian took a deep breath as his gaze shifted off somewhere past the far wall, and then he let it out as his eyes came back to meet Justin’s. “I think I might be in love with you.” He cocked his head to the side, considered that, and then said, “I’ve been looking for the right words for how I feel. But… they just don’t seem quite enough for what you do to me.” And then he stopped.
Justin’s breath stilled as his chest filled with something else, something unnamed. He slid off the desk, and against the other man’s body, suddenly completely unconcerned with where they were. “They’ll do,” Justin replied, and he kissed him.
The End