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Brian

I almost said it. I almost said it right out loud. Standing on the steps of Woody's, looking out over the crowd celebrating the mayoral election victory by dancing in the street, I turned to look at Justin and I KNEW. Just like that.

'Just like that' being relative. 'Just like that' meaning, three years in the making.

Has it been three years since I spotted him under the streetlamp? A little blond morsel to carry home like a doggie bag, leftovers from a night's routine Babylon fuckfest, an hour's diversion to make up for one or two boring backroom blowjobs. That's all he was supposed to be. No names, no numbers was my policy long before Justin was in a position to dictate rules.

I remember that I tried to forget his name. Next morning, waking up beside him, I turned instinctively to take him into my arms. Was that a premonition of things to come?

Now here we are, looking out over the crowd, our arms around each other, and I can't stop smiling. Oh, soon enough I'll stop; soon enough reality will crack this facade of happiness and relief and - and fucking joy - and I'll have to think again, think about the present and think about the future. But for a few minutes outside reality, I am filled with unthinking, amazing and just plain astounding joy. Because Justin's here beside me and I can almost believe that he'll always be here, I can almost believe that he won't ever go away again. I can almost believe in forever.

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