Chapter 37 - Reconciliation, Failed.

“This is amazing, Justin,” Daphne gushed for about the tenth time as she explored the ‘ForgiveMeSunshine.com’ website that Brian had set up as part of his campaign to win back Justin’s affections. ‘There’s this slideshow of pictures of you and Brian. You two look so fucking hot together, you know. How long were you guys together, anyway - there’s like a thousand photos here. Oh, look, there’s one with me in it from Christmas. Thankfully it was taken BEFORE we all got stoned off our asses and Winston knocked over the tree. I look pretty damn hot standing there with you two gorgeous men flanking me. I think I’ll copy it to my facebook page . . .”

“I’m SOOOOO glad that my pathetic love life is helping your status on various social media, Daph,” Justin snarled with disdain, rubbing his hands through his still pink-dyed hair.

“Oh, fucking lighten up, Justin! You know, if you keep this up, they’re going to post your picture next to the definition of the term ‘Queening Out’ on Urban Dictionary.” Daphne shook her head at her pouting best friend and went back to perusing the ForgiveMeSunshine website. “So, on top of the cool pics, there's a user poll set up - looks like, currently, 87% of the visitors to the site say that you SHOULD forgive Brian and get back together. Shit, the website has already got over 10,000 hits. Looks like you’re an overnight sensation, Sunshine.”

“Great, so now 10,000 strangers know everything about my personal life and they all think I’m the bad guy and Brian is a fucking saint. Wonderful. After everything that asshold did to me, Daph, I’m not going to forgive him just because he sets up some laughable website and buys me tons of demeaning sex toys. God damned stupid Irish Asshole . . . Thinks he’s a fucking god . . . blackmailing me into forgiving him . . . hasn’t got the balls . . . rather castrate . . .” Justin’s comments faded off into mumbled threats towards Brian’s manhood.

“Cool! There’s also a discussion board where everybody’s been leaving comments . . .” Daphne continued on, ignoring her best friend’s diatribe. “Huh? There’s a whole string here of ideas for additional romantic suggestions people are offering to help Brian get you back . . . Hmmm, well, I don’t see any alternate reality where Brian’s going to be giving you a teddy bear holding a heart . . . But, I like this one: ‘Brian should fly Sunshine to Paris and whisk him off to a romantic private dinner at the Louvre’. That would totally rock. Think I could tag along if I promised to make myself scarce as soon as the lovey-dovey shit started? What do you think, Jus? Justin?”

Daphne apparently hadn’t noticed when Justin had stomped off grumbling and proceeded to lock himself into the one tiny bedroom that he was sharing with Daphne and Cassandra, leaving Daph alone to continue admiring Brian’s annoying and, as far as Justin was concerned, pointless little web site.

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Sunday - morning.

“You sent him a basket of porn and another of sex toys? What the fuck, Brian? Are you pathologically incapable of any real romance or are you just subliminally trying to blow this?” Michael continued to deride his friend’s ideas of romantic gestures, as he had been ever since he’d arrived in New York, ostensibly to help Brian win back his one true love.

“Fuck you, Mikey, and fuck your newly expanded vocabulary. I happen to know for a fact that Justin loves a good porn flic,” Brian offered in his own defense. “And what’s NOT romantic about sex toys? Justin loves toys. I’ll have you know, there was this one time when we were just goofing around and I tied him up and then we got out this Pyrex dildo I'd put in the freezer . . .”

“I think you’ve got the term ‘kinky’ confused with ‘romantic’, Brian,” Michael interrupted his friend before the story got too far. “Showing off how cocky and sex starved you are is NOT going to win him back. Not after all that crap you told me you put him through before he left. You're gonna have to tell him honestly how you feel; that you miss him, that you’re sorry for treating him so wrongly . . . Is any of this getting through to you, Brian?”

“Errrrrrgh! You know I’m shitty at that kind of stuff, Mikey. Even though I’m trying to change here, I don’t think I can just slit open my soul and spout off emotional crap like that. I’m just not comfortable with that shit. I’m still recovering from the realization that I even WANT a fucking boyfriend. I’m actually going after a man I care about. I’ve even admitted to him that I miss him. Isn’t that enough? Shit . . .” Brian complained as he paced back and forth in the living room of the apartment that still felt empty even with Michael here now.

Brian did have to admit that so far his plan wasn’t working as well as he’d thought it would. He’d figured that Justin would cave and be back in his bed in the apartment by the end of the first day - second day, tops. And here he was, five days later and there was still no indication that his Sunshine was warming up to him again. He had to find some way to get through to the boy. Brian Kinney had decided that he wanted Justin Taylor in his life - that was a life altering decision in itself - and last Tuesday, while walking through the rain, he’d determined that he would do whatever he had to do to get his boy back. So, if he HAD to try the honesty and talking thing . . . well, fuck it, he’d try anything at this point.

“Fine, Mikey. I’ll fucking try it your way. So, how exactly do I do this talking thing?”

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Sunday - Evening.

“You can do this, Brian. I know you can. You really like this guy and if you want him back all you have to do is be open and honest,” Michael repeated for the fifteenth time as he stood behind Brian and rubbed his shoulders as if he was a trainer prepping a prize-fighter before the man entered the ring.

Brian continued to just stare at the door to Daphne’s apartment for several more minutes, gulping in humongous lungsful of air and trying to screw up his courage. He’d told himself that Brian Kinney wasn’t afraid of anything. Brian Kinney could do anything he set his mind to. Brian Kinney would not be defeated by any mere twink . . . Only, Brian Kinney wasn’t sure he believed himself enough to try something as radical as actually talking to someone and telling that person how much he loved and missed him. It was the most daunting prospect he’d ever faced in his whole fucking life.

“Fucking knock on the door, already, Brian,” Mikey ordered, shoving his larger friend closer towards the seemingly impenetrable solid wooden obstacle barring his way to his Sunshine. “I swear I’ll be right here and if you start to freeze up I’ll prompt you. You know, like that Steve Martin movie - what was it called? Oh yeah, Roxanne. Yeah, I’ll just feed you the lines and you use all your Kinney charms, tell him what I tell you and there’s no way you can fail. Now, knock already!”

‘Fucking famous last words,’ Brian thought to himself. ‘I can’t believe I’m relying on Mikey for relationship advice. Fuck, I can’t believe I need relationship advice in the first place. Oh well, here goes . . . ‘

*Knock, knock, knock*  

Brian barely waited for the door to be opened a teensy little crack before launching into his spiel. “I need to talk to Justin. I know he’s here. Just let me in so I can talk to him, okay, Daphne.”

The big hairy bear of a man dressed in a greasy t-shirt who actually answered the door smiled down at the handsome man who was babbling at him. “Nobody’s ever confused me and the ‘Daphinator’ before, mate. Hehehehe. From the lovelorn look and the sweaty brow, though, I’m guessing that you’re the handsome boyfriend who’s after little Justin’s ass? Gotta thank you for the porn and snacks, bro - Cassie and I had a mini-movie- marathon the other night with all the shit. It was a kick. Feel free to keep sending baskets of porn all you want . . .”

Seeing as Brian had been prepared to take on a little Daphne-sized Pittbull and not an overly-friendly Yogi The Bear-sized porn addict, he really didn’t know what to say when faced with this kind of greeting. His backup, Mikey, hadn’t really been prepared for this eventuality either. Both men ended up just standing in the doorway looking confused as Hector rambled on enthusiastically about all his favorite scenes in the pornos Brian had sent over.

“That’s enough, Hector. What have we discussed about you scaring off visitors?” Finally a familiar voice interrupted Hector’s running commentary and Brian almost cheered as Daphne appeared next to the big porno bear. “Leave the nice men alone and go back to your television where you belong, okay?” Daphne directed and the instantly obedient Hector obliged with only a disturbingly lascivious wink in Brian’s direction.

“I need to talk to Justin. I know he’s here. Just let me in so I can talk to him, okay, Daphne," Brian reiterated his practiced opening line now that he had the correct audience.

"He doesn't want to talk to you, Brian. I can't really blame him, either. You acted like a real shit, you know - although, just between you and me, I kinda like the pink hair; it gives him a bit of long-needed whimsy - and Justin is the sort who doesn't get angry easily, but once he does, it's practically impossible to convince him to forgive you. You've still got a looooong way to go before you're even close, Brian," Daphne explained with obvious empathy mixed up with an equal amount of resolve.

Brian was ready to give up right then. As if it wasn't difficult enough baring his soul, he was already getting shot down second-hand before he could even start. As he was starting to turn around and beat a hasty retreat, however, his surrogate conscience tightened the grip on Brian's shoulders and forcibly held him in place.

"You're not giving up that easily, Brian Kinney. Tell her what we practiced . . ." Michael ordered.

"I'm not telling HER!" Brian angrily whispered over his shoulder.

"Yes, you are, Brian. If it helps, it'll be worth it. And if not, consider this practice for when you do finally get to talk to Justin," Michael ordered firmly, still refusing to let Brian turn away. "Now, do it just like we discussed . . . remember, 'I love him. I miss him. I need him to come back home . . ."

"Michael," Brian whisper-whined in a tone almost worthy of his current mentor.

"Stop complaining and just do it, Brian!"

"Fine . . ." Brian returned his attention to the girl standing in front of him trying to control the unbridled giggling welling up at the sight of such a vulnerable and uncomfortable Brian Kinney. "Daphne, I - I need Justin to know . . . I just . . . I just don't like . . . Don't like it when he's . . . Uuuugggghhhh! I can't do this, Mikey."

"Stop it, you big chicken. Just say it!" Brian's speech coach demanded.

"I-I-I care about him, Daphne. I think, maybe, I l-l-love him . . ." Brian just barely choked out the words, and then immediately balked at the uncomfortable disclosure. "And this really sucks, you know that? Tell the little princess to get his ass out here. I didn't come over here to talk to his sweaty doorman or his pittbull body guard. Justin! JUSTIN! Get your little bubble butt out here!"

"Brian. Brian! BRIAN!" Michael, who had been trying to staunch his friend's incipient tirade from the beginning, finally got the big lout's attention. "What the fuck happened to doing it the way we practiced, Brian? Huh? We agreed on sweet and apologetic, not belligerent and demanding, you idiot! Do you really think the 'I love you, now get your ass out here and get home' approach is gonna work?"

"Fuck this, Mikey," Brian spat back at his angry little trainer. "This isn't me. I can't do this. Besides, the little princess is being a brat and I never agreed to bare my soul to Daphne and all her roommates in Justin's stead. If he can't come out here and face me like a man, then fuck it all!"

"But, Brian . . . Wait. Wait!" Michael hollered after the already retreating back of his too-stubborn friend as brian turned tail and practically ran down the stairs in a futile attempt to escape the vulnerability of the situation.

"Uh, sorry about that," Michael shrugged and grimaced at the curly-haired girl still standing in the doorway next to him as they watched Brian flee. "That did NOT go the way we'd planned."

"You can say that again," Daphne smiled sympathetically back at the short dark-haired man that she surmised was Michael, Brian's oldest friend. "But, for what it's worth, you can tell Brian that he at least started off on the right track. And just between you and me," Daphne added, dropping her voice down to a barely audible whisper, "I'm totally pulling for him. Brian and Justin were made for each other. It's not going to be easy, though. They're both so fucking stubborn . . . Just tell him I said not to give up yet." Then, in her normally brash voice Daphne added, "you better go now. I'll tell Justin you two stopped by. Goodnight."

Michael merely grinned at his new co-conspirator who winked at him even as she gently pushed him out the waiting door.

<><><><><><>

Monday - Morning.

"I am NOT going back there and baring my soul again to Hairy Hector or Daphne The Dementor, Mikey, and that's fucking final!" Brian insisted for the tenth time already that morning even as the two men stepped out of the elevator and headed towards Brian's Madison Avenue office.

Michael trailed after his dejected friend. They'd already had this conversation several times both last night and this morning over breakfast. Michael could clearly see how much Brian was hurting. Unfortunately, his big lout of a friend was still in the 'ranting and raving' phase of his Queen Out. He hadn't yet allowed Michael to get in two words. Being the trusty friend he was, though, Michael was prepared to simply wait Brian out, following at his heels and ready to try and talk some sense into him as soon as he ran out of steam.

"This whole thing was a huge fucking mistake. I don't know what I was thinking," Brian continued as soon as he'd slammed his office door shut. "The Pouting Princess obviously isn't interested in me anymore. I should never have . . . Oh, just fuck it all, Mikey. It's hopeless! He's never going to forgive me. Is anyone really surprised that I screwed up AGAIN? I should have known better. I should have listened to everyone that said I wasn't 'boyfriend material'. You should probably just go back to the Pitts already . . ."

"Sorry to interrupt your little Private Pity Party, Brian," Cynthia interjected as she stormed through the door right in the middle of her boss' rant. "Thought you'd want to know that Bryce Kennedy himself, along with Anita McMillan from the Art Department, and a whole herd of assistants are on their way up here to show you off to some big muckety-muck client. You need to put away the 'poor-woe-is-me-my-boyfriend-dumped-me' personae and put on your game face. This is your big chance to move up to that corner office on the executive floor and take me with you so that I can get out of 'cubicle hell' down here. You need to be brilliant. And you, Michael, need to get the hell out of here."

While she spoke, Cynthia was busy tidying up Brian's office, helping her boss put on his suit jacket and holding up a small hand mirror for him while the man checked his hair. She quickly opened up a desk drawer, swept the entire contents of Brian's desktop into it without ceremony and threw away about ten used Starbucks drink cups that had been littering various surfaces. As soon as both brian and his office were presentable, the able personal assistant grabbed hold of Michael's elbow and woman-handled the slightly shorter man out the door. It was just in time too, as that was the precise moment when the elevator doors opened wide, disgorging a phalanx of executive types all headed directly towards Brian's office.

"Brian? If you've got a moment, there's someone I'd like to introduce you to," Bryce Kennedy, the CEO of the agency, asked nonchalantly as he led his entire party of sycophants into Brian's relatively small office space.

"Don't be ridiculous, Brycie, dear. Of course the boy has 'got a moment' for the head of the agency and its most important client. I can't stand it when people try to act all used-car-salesman-like around me. Now, where is this wunderkind that's going to wow my pantyhose off right over my garters? Huh?" commented a tiny, slightly squeaky voice from somewhere in the center of the crowd of people, it's owner still unseen by Brian.

"I was only trying to be polite, Tanta Estelle," Bryce Kennedy replied with an indulgent smile on his face. "Now then, if you'll stop berating me like I was still a child, and come over here, I'll introduce you already."

"You shouldn't be talking back to your Aunt like like that, young man!" Exclaimed the tiny voice again as its owner, a diminutive elderly woman, finally stepped out from the huddle of people standing in Brian's doorway.

"Brian, this formidable lady is Estelle Geddes, my aunt and also the chairwoman of the Board of Directors at The Met. Tanta Estelle, this is Brian Kinney, our newest AdExec and the man responsible for the recent Furry Friends’ Flightplans campaign, the ads for which you seem practically fixated on lately."

"Ahhhhh! Well, if it isn't the tall, dark-haired half of the Twitterpated-Twosome who's been so handsomely blocking access to the elevator in my building," the little woman exclaimed as soon as she recognized Brian.

Brian instantly recalled the night after their second date when he and Justin had been castigated by this same feisty older woman in the lobby of their apartment building. "Ms. Geddes. It's lovely to formally make your acquaintance," Brian replied politely, bowing and reaching out to bring the wrinkled and arthritic, yet somehow still elegant, older woman's hand to his lips for a kiss in greeting. "And I assure you that I've been doing my best not to obstruct any elevators these days."

"Well, that's too bad - it was quite the entertaining sight, if I do say so myself," the old woman added with a charming, low-pitched, yet gleeful laugh. "How is your pretty little blond friend, Mr. Kinney? I haven't seen the two of you making out in the lobby for a while. I hope he hasn't moved on to blocking some other old lady's elevator - I'd hate to be deprived of the sight of his cute little behind rubbing up against the elevator call button while you're eating his face off! *Hah!*" her cackling laughter raising corresponding titters from the rest of the assembly.

"Tanta Estelle!" Bryce Kennedy playfully kidded with his aunt. "You're going to get me in trouble if you keep making inappropriate comments like that to my staff."

"Oh, you hush now, Brycie! I'm 84 years old - which means I can get away with being inappropriate all I want. If anyone complains just tell 'em I'm going senile and can't control myself. Besides, there's nothing wrong with showing a little appreciation for the beautiful things in life - and this young man kissing his partner definitely qualifies as a beautiful thing. I believe the modern term for it is that they're 'Hot'?" the spirited little woman asserted, making air quotes and giggling like a woman fifty years younger at her own naughtiness.

"By 'blond friend', Ms. Geddes wouldn't be referring to Mr. Taylor, would she?" Anita McMillan asked, looking towards Brian with a knowing smile. "If that IS who you're talking about, it just might interest you to know that it was Mr. Taylor who was the contract artist on that Furry Friends’ Flightplans campaign. He's quite an amazing young artist, actually. I just recently purchase some of his artwork for my own office."

"Yes, actually, my blond friend with the 'hot' little behind - as you so accurately described him, Ms. Geddes - was also the artist who worked with me on that campaign. And you're right, Anita, he's truly an amazing artist," Brian couldn't help the note of pride in his voice when he bragged about his lover's artistic skills.

"Well, isn't that propitious!" Estelle Geddes announced. "Then I'll get the pleasure of meeting him properly when we all get together next week. In the meantime, you can start working on the new ads for my museum. Tell Mr. Taylor that I look forward to seeing him again. Now, Brycie, you'll get everything set up for me, I assume? Mr. Kinney, it's been a pleasure. I'll see you next week and I'm sure we'll come up with something brilliant. Now, all of you butt-kissing layabouts get out of my way so I can get out of here. I haven't got all day, you know. Move it!" Ms. Geddes demanded, nudging several of the fawning assistants out of her way with the polished wood cane she carried in order to clear a path for herself back to the elevator.

“Kinney, I’ll expect you and Taylor in my office tomorrow morning at 9:00,” Bryce Kennedy directed over his shoulder as he trotted off after his Aunt.

“But . . .” Brian didn’t have time to explain that that might be problematic - Mr. Kennedy was already in the elevator along with his posse of yes-men and his Aunt. “Shit!” he complained to himself as the elevator doors closed.

“Problems, Kinney?” Anita McMillan, who had stayed behind the rest in order to talk to Brian, asked the frowning and pacing AdExec.

“I don’t know if I can get Taylor to work on this project,” Brian started to advise his co-worker.

“Nonsense,” McMillan cut him off before he could explain further. “Taylor is an aspiring artist and when the Metropolitan Museum of Art calls, any aspiring artist with an ounce of ambition would be stupid if he didn’t jump at the opportunity.”

With that, Anita seemed to think that the matter was settled. She turned and headed off towards the staircase that would take her back to her Art Department. Brian just stood there and stared off into space thinking about how he could work this.

Brian wasn’t so sure that Justin’s stubbornness wouldn’t outweigh even his ambition.