Part One

Justin Taylor closed the door to his one room studio apartment and sighed as he dropped his backpack onto the small kitchen counter that served as his table, desk and food preparation space. He probably should have put the bag away, but he was just too tired after his grueling day. He'd been up since five, worked the breakfast shift at the Liberty Diner, gone to three classes, and spent another three hours working at his second job at the art supply store before going to baby-sit Gus for Lindsey and Melanie. All he wanted to do just then was crawl into his bed and sleep for a week.

Of course, his bed wasn't really a bed. It was a futon that also served as the only seating in the apartment aside from the stool by the counter. He might have had room for a real sofa and bed if his easel and painting supplies didn't take up the entire corner by the large windows. At least he had a bathroom with a big tub. He would need it tonight.

Ever since the attack at his prom, Justin suffered from severe and debilitating headaches and muscle tension when he was stressed. When that happened, a long hot bath was the only thing that helped besides the prescription painkillers which made him groggy for two days and he simply couldn't work that way. He had two jobs to pay for his little shithole apartment and for his tuition, since his father had refused to pay from his educational trust.

Justin shook his head and walked to the bathroom, where he began running the water to fill the tub. Then he added bergamot and lavender salts to the water. The clerk at the homeopathic store had suggested them, and Justin found that they did help quite a bit. He went to the medicine cabinet, grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and shook out three tablets. It would have to do for tonight. He had life drawing in the morning and needed to be fully functioning.

Once he'd stripped down and tossed his clothes into the laundry hamper, Justin stepped into the tub and sighed as he sat down in the fragrant water. He leaned his head against the cool tiles of the wall and closed his eyes, allowing the heat and fragrance to relax his body and mind. He found that he could simply let his mind drift and his problems seemed a bit less overwhelming during his late night baths.

It was almost twenty minutes later when the phone's shrill ring broke him from his peaceful haze. He grabbed the cordless phone from the stand beside the tub and pressed the green answer button.

"Hello?" Justin sighed lazily.

"Hey, you sound relaxed," a charmingly familiar voice drawled over the line. "Taking another bath? You keep this up and you'll turn into a muncher."

Justin chuckled. "I'd need a bit of surgery first. And then I'd probably end up a breeder. Who wants to touch girl parts? Yuck."

Brian Kinney had to laugh at that. "Tough day?"

"Just long," Justin said. "I worked both jobs, had three classes and sat with Gus tonight. I just got home a little while ago."

"You shouldn't schedule so much for one day," Brian scolded. "The doctor said-"

"The doctor said I'm fine," Justin interrupted. "And I don't usually have quite so much packed into one day, but then Steve called in sick and Gary couldn't find anyone to cover from three to six. And I had promised Mel and Lindsey that I'd stay with Gus while they went to their committee meeting tonight. I couldn't just cancel on them."

"Yes you could," Brian disagreed. "And you could drop one or both of those jobs too."

Justin sighed, feeling the tension returning to his neck and shoulders. "We've had this conversation before, Brian."

"And we'll keep having it until you see that I'm right." Brian declared imperiously.

Justin had to laugh at his tone and the tension began to dissolve again. "Do you really want all of Liberty Avenue to think that you're keeping a rent boy?"

Brian paused at that. "What? Fuck no. But that's not what you would be."

"Hmm," Justin said. "You want to pay my tuition, put me up in your loft, give me an allowance for food and clothes and in exchange you get my delectable body all to yourself. Sounds like a rent boy to me."

"Justin..." Brian growled in warning. "I don't see what the problem is. I make enough money to support you. And people do this all the time."

"What people?"

Brian paused to think for a minute. "Your parents married young and your mom worked while the asshole went to school. Once he was finished, she went back to school and he paid her way."

"Right," Justin said. "But they were MARRIED."

There was silence over the phone line.

"Forget it Brian," Justin told his lover. "I need to do this for myself. Besides, Mom said that she and her lawyer are making headway. Hopefully, I'll have access to my trust fund by the fall semester and this won't be an issue anymore."

"So you'll let the asshole pay for your education, but not me?" Brian asked.

"No," Justin disagreed. "I'll let my grandfather pay for my education. My mother's father is the one who set up the trusts for Molly and me. My father is just supposed to oversee it. But he's being a dick."

"As usual," Brian said. He could hear the water splashing around in the tub from over the distance and felt bad for bringing the subject up when Justin had already had such a difficult day. "You feel better?"

"Yeah, the headache is almost gone," Justin said tiredly. "I'll be fine by morning."

"Tomorrow's your life drawing class?" Brian asked.

"Yeah."

"How about I pick you up beforehand and we go for breakfast?"

"Will you pick at me for what I choose to eat?" Justin asked.

"It depends," Brian hedged.

"On?"

"On if you order enough to feed a platoon of lumberjacks." Brian teased.

"I don't think lumberjacks come in platoons," Justin retorted. "Maybe a herd?"

"Or a gaggle," Brian suggested. "So how about it? I'll pick you up at seven."

"Sure," Justin said as he pulled the plug on the drain and carefully got out of the tub. He'd already dropped one cordless into the tub while talking to Brian late at night and couldn't afford to replace another phone. The two continued to talk about their respective days while Justin dried himself off and hung his towel on the rack. Then he went back into the other room and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter. His mother visited at least once a week and always brought food, including a selection of fruit for his fruit bowl.

He munched while Brian recounted his pitch to the Green Hill Consortium. They were looking to launch a new line of men's toiletries and Brian had wowed them with his campaign.

"So they went for the naked guy in the shower?" Justin asked as he tossed his apple core into the trash.

"Of course," Brian said and Justin could hear the smirk through the phone. "They signed the contract this afternoon. And you know what that means don't you?"

Justin smiled. "It means a big bonus to the hotshot ad executive who hooked them."

"And it means we can take that trip to London for your spring break," Brian said.

"Really?" Justin asked, his exhaustion forgotten for the moment. "We can go?"

"Unless you think it will make you look like a kept man," Brian teased.

"Fuck! Who cares?" Justin said. "We're going to London."

"When does your break start?" Brian asked.

"Two weeks from Monday," Justin told him. "Oh shit. I have so much to do. I'll need my passport, and I'll have to find coverage for my shifts at both jobs. And I'll need to have my midterm projects complete before we leave, since they are due right after we get back. And I'll need clothes. Mom will love an excuse to go shopping, and she'll probably loan me her luggage..."

"That stuff can wait," Brian told him. "We can discuss it more in the morning. You should be in bed."

Justin, who had just crawled under the sheets laughed. "I am in bed. Alone and naked and missing you."

Brian smirked again. "You'll just have to dream of me, then won't you?"

"I always dream of you," Justin said before yawning.

"Goodnight Sunshine," Brian said softly.

"Goodnight Brian."

Justin was asleep almost as soon as he turned out the light.

BJBJBJBJBJ

Brian hung up the phone and shook his head. Why Justin insisted on doing everything the hard way was beyond him. If he'd had someone, anyone, willing to help him through school, he would have jumped at the chance. Instead, Justin worked himself nearly to death to prove a point. Probably to his father. What Justin didn't understand was that nothing he did was going to make Craig Taylor accept him. And Brian would be damned if he let Justin work himself to death only to be hurt by that bastard again.

He picked up his beer and walked to his sofa and sat down to think. How could he make Justin understand? They had been having this same argument for months, ever since they had learned that Craig refused to release the funds for Justin's tuition back in August. The bastard hadn't come to see Justin in the hospital once, and when he finally left after weeks of treatments and therapy, he learned that his father had betrayed him by blocking payment for his tuition.

By that time, Jennifer Taylor had moved out and was well on her way to divorcing the prick. She had taken Justin home to finish recovering before classes began at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art in September. Even after being released, Justin had quite a bit of work to do to regain his life. He had suffered from tension and migraine headaches, had bouts of depression, and had nightmares where he remembered flashes of that awful night.

Brian had experienced his fair share of nightmares since then, as well, though his were clearer since he had seen it all and remembered everything. Justin had slowly regained most of his memories of the prom, but still had blank spots of their walk to the garage and the attack itself.

But they had both slowly overcome that night. Now Justin was back to his stubborn ways and Brian was... Well, he was changed.

The changes weren't noticeable to the average observer. And they were not all attributable to the attack on Justin. Some of those changes had begun the night Justin had walked into his life, as was evidenced by the fact that he, Brian Kinney, had attended the prom as a thirty-year-old. Somehow, when Justin was involved, all of his rules, all of his barriers, all of his instincts for self-preservation flew out the window. If he could have taken Justin's place that night, he would have gladly died to save the younger man.

Why? What did it all mean?

He had spent weeks, months even, mulling everything over. And then he came to one conclusion: who the fuck cared? What was really important was not the why or the how. What really mattered was the who. And Justin was the only answer to that question.

And so his nights at Babylon had dwindled, though Justin said he didn't mind if Brian went out. And the tricks he had picked up in the last six months were fewer than he once had in a week. In fact, it had been more than a month since he had fucked or been sucked by anyone other than Justin. The amazing thing was that he didn't miss it all that much. Even on a night like this one, when Justin was sleeping on the other side of town and he was free to do what he wanted, he chose to stay home.

Of course, some people were slow to see the changes in him, or didn't want to see them. Mikey was a prime example of that kind of denial. He was too busy with his own life to notice that Brian wasn't at Babylon every night. And Mikey always had an excuse for why Brian went home alone when he did go. He'd sobered up for the most part, only drinking a fraction of what he had in the past. And the only drug he did these days was to smoke the occasional joint. He was as clean and sober as Brian Kinney had ever been in his life, and no one else seemed to notice. They were too blinded by his past to realize that he had changed.

Of course, that was alright by Brian. It wasn't as if he cared what people thought of him. He would have thought that at least Mikey would have noticed, but...Mikey always did idolize Brian's profligate ways, living vicariously through him, and he'd never really accepted Justin into their lives. Or Brian's. And since Brian chose not to talk about his relationship with Justin with anyone, most people, including Michael Novotny, just assumed they had each moved on.

Justin hadn't been back to Babylon since the attack. One of the residual effects from the head trauma he had suffered, besides the tendency to get stress headaches, was that he was uncomfortable in large crowds. Justin's therapist had told him that it might take years for him to truly feel safe again, and that certain situations could induce anxiety attacks. For Justin, large crowds and enclosed spaces had become a trigger. He was getting better, and Brian thought he'd probably be able to get back to the club before too much longer. Maybe they could try a small club while they were in London.

Brian drained the rest of his beer and glanced at the clock. It was 11:30. Babylon would be crowded with a mass of hot sweaty male bodies right about now. Brian was almost tempted to go. Almost. Instead he took the empty bottle to the recycling can and made his way to his bedroom. He'd think for a bit about how to get Justin to change his mind, and then go to bed and dream of Justin.