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After the End	By : Bloodyrose82 Category: M through R > Queer As Folk Views: 2114 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Queer As Folk, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-After the End
- 2-515
- 3-516
- 4-517
- 5-518
- 6-519
- 7-520
- 8-521
- 9-522
- 10-523
- 11-524
- 12-525
- 13-526
- 10
- 11
- 12
Prologue

Some people say that blood is thicker than water, that just because a person is related to another and shares the same DNA that they automatically deserve more loyalty than those who do not.

But isn�t that a horribly outdated view, harking back to Victorian times when a man owned his wife and children, when family was really supposed to mean family, no matter what the consequences were?

Surely times have changed since then, with popular opinion that family isn�t supposed to be an oppressive structure, hindering rather than helping? So, what if your father beats you, or your mother is so cold that when she gets in your face and shouts she leaves icicles hanging off your eyebrows?

Then the word family is just a mockery of those who have it good. It�s tossed around and held against you as something you are supposed to comply with: �Respect me, I�m your parent.� But where is the respect back? Where is the supposed unconditional love that parents are supposed to display, no matter that their son is gay?

It makes more sense to create your own family, a makeshift group of people who have everything in common apart from their blood. Those are the people who will be around when everything turns to shit, when it all comes falling down around your ears and you can�t see any way to escape.

Their reason for being there in the first place was created through choice rather than obligation.

Sometimes those are the tightest bonds you can ever hope to form.

-*-

I. Brian

You couldn�t sleep. The last few days you had tossed and turned, waking up half a dozen times a night, sweat pouring down your body, your legs tangled up in the sheets.

But this was the first time you hadn�t slept at all, and you spent most of the night watching the shadows as they played across Justin�s face, hiding him almost in total darkness then easing up around dawn to leave purple stains that made it look like he had been kissed time and time again by an overzealous drag queen wearing too much lipstick.

He had slept heavily and without disturbance, and you found yourself checking him a couple of times, staring intently at his chest until you could detect a steady rise and fall. Once you even leaned over, hovering an inch above his face until you felt his breath puff out against your lips.

Around six you decided that enough was enough, and heaved yourself out of bed, leaving him in the same position he had been in all night, that old-man frown set heavily in his face.

You showered quickly then padded through into the living room and slouched down on the couch in your sweatpants, chain-smoking as you moodily lost yourself in your thoughts.

Technically it was the last day you could spend with him, even though he still had one more left. The next day was the dance, and you knew he would spend excessive amounts of time with Debb and Emmett finding the perfect suit. You�d offered to meet him for lunch but he had turned you down, having volunteered to help with decorating the Gay and Lesbian Center, who was, as usual, woefully short of staff.

It almost made you change your mind about attending the dance, just so you could spend more time with him, but you knew that even if you had been able to handle it, having everyone else around you would just make it a hundred times worse, and you imagined the time you would have together would be cut short as yet another person interrupted, insisting they dance with him one more time because he was going home the following day and they didn�t know when they would get another chance.

He hadn�t really brought up your slip-up again, and really, that was fine by you. Asking him to stay had been a pretty big mistake and you didn�t want to watch his expressions warring with themselves as he tried to figure out how best to explain his reasons for going again.

You knew all of those reasons and understood them, but it didn�t stop the irrepressible anger from burning up in your throat from time to time. Occasionally you just wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard, screaming �why?� in his face and then refusing to listen to the answer.

What did it really matter in the end? The result would still be the same.

You looked up when you felt his gaze upon you, and found him standing on the steps leading towards the bedroom, wiping sleep from his eyes, your sheet tucked around his waist.

He looked so damn young and innocent, and you longed to draw him close to you, telling him that New York was too big, too populated, had a huge crime rate, that he would never be able to cope on his own.

But the truth of the matter was that he had coped just fine, and he would continue to cope when he went back.

He coped far better than you ever could.

-*-

II. Justin

"How long have you been up?" you asked him, and scratched your chest, holding the sheet up as you walked across to join him on the couch.

You curled up on your side, tucking your feet underneath you, and rested your head in his lap, closing your eyes.

He began to play with your hair, sifting the strands through his fingers, and you murmured appreciatively.

"A while," he said.

You nodded and snuggled closer to him, drifting in and out of sleep as daylight broke over the city, sending shafts of light through the window and across your face.

"What time is your flight?" he said suddenly, as if he had been debating with himself over whether he should ask you, finally blurting it out before he could stop himself.

"Six in the evening," you replied, yawning. "I took a later one because you know how I am with mornings, and I wanted to have enough time to say goodbye."

He remained silent and you shifted onto your back, staring up at him. He was watching your face, his fingers still calmly running through your hair.

"Tomorrow night," you told him, "I know you�re not coming to the dance, and I�m not going to ask again, but I can meet you afterwards if you like. Maybe at the club?"

He smiled slightly, but it seemed strained. "I�ll be here," he said. "I don�t really feel like going to the club tomorrow night. Most people will probably be at the dance anyway, so there�s little point."

You nodded and just watched him for a while, enjoying the easy relaxed atmosphere that the early hour afforded you both, and he stared back with such an intense expression on his face that you thought he was going to kiss you.

The phone rang and you almost swore under your breath. He gave you an apologetic look and you moved off him so he could get up and answer it.

You couldn�t make out the nature of the conversation just from the occasional grunt and �yes, of course� on his end, so you gave up trying and laid your head down against the arm of the couch.

"Sunshine?" His voice was close and your eyes snapped open. You couldn�t remember him terminating the phone call so you supposed you had fallen asleep for a while.

You sat up and ran a hand through your hair, your eyes bleary.

"That was your mother," he said, and your eyebrows shot up. It wasn�t like her to call the loft, especially so early in the day.

"What did she want?" you asked, puzzled.

"She thinks she�s found a buyer for the house."

"Britin?" He never had come around to liking the name.

"Yeah. It�s pretty much just a formality, but the buyer wants to see it again before he commits. Jennifer has already shown him around once but she thought this time it would be a good idea if I was there too."

"Okay�" you replied, wondering what he was getting at.

He turned and walked into the kitchen, busying himself with making coffee. "I thought�if you wanted to, that maybe you would like to come with me. To see it for one last time."

He turned his back to you and reached into a cupboard, pulling out two mugs.

Did you want to see it again? It was just a house, after all. Just bricks and mortar.

With your memories living inside.

You shrugged and stood up, careful to keep the sheet around your hips. "Sure, I guess. I didn�t have anything planned for today."

He nodded and you smiled at him, unsure if you had made the correct decision, but sticking to it anyway, and you dropped a kiss onto his shoulder as you passed him, heading towards the bathroom.

It seemed like it was going to be a day for talking with ghosts.

-*-

III. Brian

So, it looked like Britin had sold. It was quicker than you had thought it would be, but you had listed it for less than you had paid, preferring to lose a small amount of money on it rather than having it hanging around for months, a constant reminder of what almost was.

And once you had made a decision, you liked to get things over with as quickly as possible.

You weren�t sure how you felt about it being sold, feeling a slight pang that it was another indication that part of your life was over. But part of you was glad too; you had never been the type to hang onto pointless sentimentality.

You didn�t really know why you had asked Justin if he had wanted to come along, unsure whether he would freak out over the idea of seeing it again, but it had felt like the right thing to do. You had always viewed it as his house rather than yours, a completely over-the-top present that you had bought on a whim as part of your plan to get him to realize that marriage was what you truly wanted.

It seemed rather silly to think about it now. It had been completely out of character and had reeked of blind desperation. But then, you had been desperate, and hadn�t had enough time to come up with a better idea.

Looking back on it now, they seemed like the actions of another man, someone who wasn�t afraid to show how he really felt, his only concern being that he made it as clear as he could to the man he loved that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.

You wished you could have written it off as the by-product of drink or drugs, but you couldn�t. You were stone cold sober at the time and you had felt that there was nothing else in your life that you could possibly want more. You were willing to give up everything just to hear him say yes, hell-bent on eradicating the parts of your life that pinned you down as �Brian Kinney the bachelor� just so you wouldn�t lose him.

But you had lost him anyway and it felt like it had all been for nothing.

Everybody had been polite enough not to mention it after Justin had gone to New York, but you knew what they were thinking, you could read it in the lines of their mouths. �Poor guy� you knew they said to each other, when your back was turned, �He finally gave himself over to the notion of love and he had it chucked back in his face. Well, serves him right; he left it long enough.�

And you had, there was no denying that. There had been five years to tell him that you loved him, five years to offer him the rest of your life, and you had waited until it was too late, just because you couldn�t stand the thought of opening yourself up and becoming vulnerable.

Which was ridiculous, really, you had always been vulnerable when it came to him.

You looked up as Justin entered the kitchen, freshly showered and smelling of your shampoo. Your heart ached for him, for all of the other mornings when he had looked exactly like this, and for all of the mornings you would miss.

You yearned for the Justin he used to be, the kid who looked up to you as if you could give him the world. You were his hero up on a pedestal, and like all heroes, you had to fall.

You longed for his never-ending chatter, his stubborn single-mindedness that he would make himself part of your life whether you liked it or not.

But none of that was love; you knew that now you had found it for yourself. That was ownership. It was about feeling powerful and in control because you had an admiring boy following you around like he was your biggest fan.

These days you wondered if you were perhaps his.

-*-

IV. Justin

Brian had arranged to meet your mother at the diner for lunch, and you pushed your way through the milling crowd to take a place at the counter, ordering a plate of chocolate-chip pancakes from a harassed-looking Debb.

Michael was sitting in one of the corner booths with Ben, and he kept on shooting you disgruntled looks, as if it was all your fault that he had fucked up in the bathroom, sending Brian off in a rush and making him crash his car. You hadn�t spoken to Mikey since then, and you didn�t think Brian had either. You had spent most of your time with him and you didn�t remember him receiving a single call.

You nudged Brian�s shoulder as he poked at his scrambled eggs, and tilted your head in Mikey�s direction. "You going to talk to him?" you asked.

"I wasn�t planning on it," he replied stiffly, and refused to say anything more.

"He was only looking out for you," you pointed out, refusing to let it drop, and he snorted, picking up his coffee cup.

"I don�t need a minder."

"I know you don�t," you said. "But he�s your best friend. I don�t like what he said any more than you did, but I can understand why he did it."

"He should mind his own business," Brian answered, and sneaked a pancake off your plate. "Anyway, what are you doing defending him? I thought you hated the way he always stuck his nose in, acting like you�re the devil whose purpose in life is to lead me down the path of temptation."

You smiled. Brian had always done a perfectly good job of finding that road all by himself.

"I just think it�s stupid not to speak to him," you said. "He�s your best friend and you need him."

He stared at you and you knew he had picked up on what you had been getting at, that he would need him after you had gone.

"I�ll talk to him when I think he has suffered enough," Brian replied, and you let the subject drop. You�d had enough of arguing and you didn�t want to spend the little time you had left fighting with him.

Your mother arrived ten minutes later, and had time for a quick coffee before you all had to head over to the house.

She sat at the counter, chatting to Debb, and they kept on shooting you and Brian puzzled looks. It was disquieting and you glanced up at Brian to see if he had noticed.

He had.

"I wish people would stop thinking what goes on with us is their business," he said, watching them as they chanced yet another look.

You shrugged and shoved the last piece of pancake into your mouth. "We play it out in public so it�s only to be expected they will react. I�m actually surprised they've been so restrained."

Brian snorted and looked back into his cup.

You couldn�t help but ponder upon the reasons as to why they hadn�t interfered more, and the only logical conclusion you could come up with was that they saw little point. Whatever mess you managed to get yourselves caught up in would be sorted out in just over forty-eight hours and the whole vacation would be relegated to just one of those things that had happened in Pittsburgh.

It would seem like a whole other world by then.

You leaned against Brian�s side and he wrapped one arm around your shoulders almost unconsciously, as if he knew what you were thinking.

You both sighed.

Your mother looked up and nodded - you knew it was time.

The car ride to Britin was shrouded in silence, and you kept your eyes glued to the scenery whizzing past the window, feeling horribly like the world was dragging you kicking and screaming forwards whether you wanted it to or not.

Brian pulled up behind your mother�s car in the driveway and you got out, preparing to look around the house one last time.

Brian came around and stood next to you, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck, trying to keep the chill out. But the chill was inside, and no amount of clothing or central heating would ever be able to keep it at bay.

Another car pulled up behind you, the potential buyer�s, you supposed, and you turned around, your breath catching in your throat.

Walking towards you, his gait leisurely as if he had all the time in the world, a smug smile stretching across his lips, was Ethan; your ghost of Christmas past.

-*-

V. Brian

Ethan fucking Gold.

You stared in disbelief and then turned and looked at Jennifer. "You knew about this," you told her, accusation lining your voice like the lead of a casket.

She shook her head slowly, looking just as confused as you knew you were. "No, this wasn�t the man I showed around before."

Ethan raised one eyebrow, leering at Justin as he brushed past and went to the door. "My agent checked out the place before," he said. "I was away on tour."

You glanced at Justin who just stood there in shock, the urge to punch him clearly written on his face. You ignored Ethan and looked back at Jennifer. "I�m not selling it to him."

She nodded numbly, unsure of what to do. You imagined that in all her years as a realtor she had never encountered a situation like this.

"How about I offer you double the asking price?" Ethan said nonchalantly, examining his nails. "I can afford it these days, thanks to you."

Your head shot up. "What the fuck do you mean �thanks to me�? What did I do?"

"You told me there was nothing honourable about being poor."

You could have killed the little shit! Your fists balled at your sides and you took a step forward, ready to wring his scrawny little neck, when Justin�s hand shot out and grabbed the sleeve of your coat.

"Brian!" he said, warningly, and you looked down into his face.

"Don�t tell me you think I should actually consider selling to him?" you asked, already knowing the answer by his expression.

He sighed and looked at his mother. "Can you give us five minutes?"

She glanced at you and then nodded again. "Sure, I�ll just�show him some of the other houses that came up this week." She snapped open her briefcase and pulled a handful of brochures out.

"I wouldn�t bother," Ethan drawled. "My mind is set."

You shot him another warning look, telling him he was going way too fucking far, but he just smiled at you brightly, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn�t help himself.

You let Justin lead you around the side of the house, pulling out of his grasp as soon as you were out of sight of the asshole violinist, and leaned against the stable doors, your arms folded across your chest.

"Well?" you demanded, unable to keep the slightly betrayed tone out of your voice.

It was almost as if he was cheating again, and he gave you the same sheepish look he had presented you with back then, guilt creeping across his face like a burglar in the night.

You almost began to panic, and slipped a blank mask down over your features, much like the Rage mask you had worn the night he had walked out of the club with Ethan on his arm.

He was going back to New York on his own, not moving in with Ethan. You really felt like you were losing your grip.

-*-

VI. Justin

It was horrible seeing Ethan again, and it was almost like watching a re-run of a poorly made horror-film, you didn�t want to look but you found it hard to stop.

You hadn�t seen him since you had left his apartment the night when you discovered he had been fucking his fans behind your back. You had come across magazine articles that were emblazoned with his face, but they were easy enough to handle. A few of the people you knew in New York had mentioned his name, telling you about the time they went to one of his concerts, going on and on like droning worker beers about how wonderful he had been.

And he had been, you knew that. He was a magnificent violinist who lived up to his name in more than one way. His gold was plated, a spectacularly shiny face that sparkled in the light, whispering promises of happy-ever-after and romance long into the night. But what nobody else knew was that he was tarnished, his gloss running only skin deep. Underneath he was just a lump of lead, dishing out his promises that he knew he would never keep.

You looked up at Brian, that wounded-deer expression on his face that he struggled to clear, and you scuffed your toe along the ground, drawing lines in the dirt with your shoe.

"He just offered you twice the asking price," you pointed out, knowing how loud money could talk to Brian.

"I don�t fucking care if he offered twenty million," he replied. "How can you ever consider me selling it to him?"

You shrugged and glanced away, looking towards the tennis courts. How could you articulate a feeling; that it seemed fitting somehow to a sell a house of lies to a liar?

But you supposed that wasn�t fair, and you hated yourself for letting your bitter regret lead your thoughts. That afternoon in the house had been one of the most honest you had ever spent with Brian, both of you open and raw as if somehow the house possessed magical powers that forced you to admit the truth to yourselves.

Maybe it would do the same for Ethan.

You snorted at the thought and shifted your weight onto the other foot. "It�s not ours anymore," you told him. "I�m not sure if it ever was."

"Justin, have you hit your head or something?"

You winced at his choice of words and could tell by his sudden intake of breath that he regretted them too.

He pursed his lips, frowning for a second. "Look, Sunshine, I just don�t like the idea of selling it to someone like him. He doesn�t deserve it."

"I didn�t think you, of all people, would get sentimental over a house."

He cursed under his breath, realizing he had just created a chink in his own highly- polished armour.

You almost smiled. He could deny it, but then there would be no reason as to why he couldn�t sell Ethan the house, or he could admit that he felt his memories were locked up in those walls too, that he wasn�t as closed off from his emotions as he liked to make himself out to be.

You watched him as he turned the options over in his head, feeling an overwhelming rush of fondness towards him.

He frowned a little more and glanced down at his feet. "If it was anyone else, Sunshine�"

You almost laughed. It was so like him to refuse to commit to either option.

You walked over to him and put a hand on his arm, forcing him to look back up at your face. "Brian," you told him. "You wanted a quick sale and it seems silly to keep hold of it. Who knows how long it will be on the market for if you don�t accept his offer?" You smiled softly at him. "Besides, we never lived here. We barely even visited."

You dropped your forehead against his chest and he slowly lifted one arm to wrap around your waist.

"Can I hide sardines inside the chimney before he moves in?" he said. "He�ll make himself crazy wondering where the smell is coming from."

You laughed at his school-boy attempt at easing the awkwardness of the situation and lifted your head. He had a small smile on his face and you bit your bottom lip, �I love you� sitting on the tip of your tongue just waiting to escape.

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you were all at once grateful and angry that you had always displayed your emotions clearly on your face.

-*-

VII. Brian

You walked back around to the front of the house and marched straight over to Ethan. "Congratulations on your new house, Mr. Gold," you said, and stuck out your hand.

He stared at your for a second and then sniffed, straightening his shoulders. "You�ve made the right decision, Mr. Kingsley."

"Kinney," you corrected.

"Whatever." He turned to Jennifer. "I don�t think I need to see inside after all. Send the contract through to my agent."

Jennifer agreed and held her hand out, which he shook.

"I expect I�ll see you soon, Justin," Ethan said, and took a step towards him.

He shrank back. "I doubt it."

"I�m in New York in a few weeks," he explained, "promoting my new album. I'm looking for some art for my house so perhaps I'll drop by and check out your latest show."

You felt that rush of anger again but instead of punching him you slipped an arm over Justin�s shoulder. "I�ll see you there then," you said, ignoring the way Justin stiffened.

Ethan sniffed and marched off to his car, and drove away, spinning his wheels and kicking up the gravel as he disappeared.

Jennifer visibly relaxed, breathing out a sigh of relief. "I�ll leave you boys to it," she said. "I�ll get the contract drawn up this afternoon, Brian."

You thanked her, watching as she kissed Justin on the cheek and then left. You looked back down at him with a final sigh. "You want to take that one last look around?"

He glanced at the house and then shook his head. "I think I�ve seen everything there is to be seen here; let�s go and get a drink."

He pulled out from under your arm and walked back to the car.

You stood for a second, looking up at the house. It didn�t seem too bad leaving it now, and you turned, following Justin.

What use was a house when you had nobody left to share it with?

You got in the car and started the engine, waiting while he fiddled with his seatbelt and finally buckling yours when he began admonishing you.

"Why did you tell him that?" he asked you when you were on the road and there was no chance of escape.

"Tell who what?" you replied, having a pretty good idea of what he was talking about.

"You told Ethan that you would see him at my art show."

Oh. That. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat and kept your eyes on the tailgate of the car in front of you. "So I did," you said conversationally, trying to keep your tone light.

"Why would you do something like that? I know you didn�t mean it because you never visited once. You never even called."

You glanced at him and he was slumped against the door, his jaw tight.

"He was annoying me, so I wanted to annoy him back."

You felt Justin rolling his eyes without having to look at him. "You realize how infantile that sounds?"

"Fuck, Sunshine, it was just spur of the moment. He�s smug enough now that he has the house; I don�t want him thinking he stands another chance with you too!"

He let out a breath that misted up the glass. "That�s not going to happen."

"Isn�t it?" you asked, realizing you sounded stupid, and perhaps a little shrill. "It happened before."

"Yeah," he replied. "It did. Back when I was young and pathetic and didn�t know that love could mean love without a four letter word."

You supposed that was explanation enough. You were already treading thin ground.

"Brian," he said suddenly. "You do realize you�re sounding like a possessive boyfriend, don�t you?"

"Fuck you!"

He laughed. "You so know you are. You can try and deny it all you want but I know the truth!"

You snorted, glancing at his smile before focusing your attention back on the road.

You wished you did.

-*-

VIII. Justin

It was nearing dinner by the time you made it back to Pittsburgh, the afternoon traffic crawling along at a snail�s pace and leaving you both hungry and frustrated, Brian cursing at practically every car on the road.

He parked and you got out, walking over to Woody�s, surprised when you entered and saw that Michael and Ben were already there.

Brian took one look at Michael sitting at the bar and walked straight past him and over to a table in the back, leaving you to go and order the drinks.

"Hi, Justin," Ben said cheerily when you approached, and nudged Michael. They�d obviously been talking about you.

"Hi, Justin," Michael parroted grudgingly, and you hid a smile as you ordered a couple of whiskey�s for you and Brian.

"Hey, guys," you replied, and sat down on a bar stool next to them while you waited for the drinks.

"You look a little flustered," Ben noted, and Michael snorted. It was pretty obvious what he thought you had been getting up to.

"Yeah, we drove up to the house to show a potential buyer around and the traffic was murderous on the way back."

"The house?" Michael asked, suddenly seemingly interested. "Did you sell it?"

"We did actually." You knew what he would be thinking, how completely glad he would be that the last reminder of Brian�s proposal had been eradicated from your life.

Michael didn�t disappoint, and he leaned across Ben, smiling. "That�s good," he said. "Who bought it? A rich business man with a family, no doubt."

"Ethan Gold."

Michael spluttered, almost choking on his drink, and Ben had to smack him on the back.

"Ethan?" he asked, as if he hadn�t heard you correctly the first time. "Wasn�t he the guy who--"

"Yes, he was," you said quickly, before he had time to finish his sentence. "He offered Brian double the asking price."

"Holy shit, how ironic is that?" Michael looked dumbfounded and you took the chance to grab your drinks and slip away, leaving him staring at his beer with a stunned expression on his face.

Ted was sitting with Brian, and you ambled over to them, handing Brian his glass.

"It wouldn�t be such a bad idea," you heard Ted saying, catching the end of their conversation. "If you went there once, maybe twice a year. The New York based clients would be impressed by the personal touch, and it would save them flying down here for their account reviews."

You blinked and looked between them. "Are you considering visiting me in New York occasionally?"

Brian shrugged and lit a cigarette. "Not you specifically. Some of our most important clients are based there, so I figure dropping by from time to time wouldn�t hurt. And if you happened to be free for those weekends�" he raised an eyebrow, trying to look innocent.

Your plan had been to return to New York and not to revisit Pittsburgh in the immediate future, giving yourself time to grow into your own skin without the constant impression of Brian branding himself on the back of your brain. You hadn�t even considered that he would change his mind and actually fly over for a visit once in a while.

"What�s wrong, Sunshine? Don�t think you can handle me for a weekend?" Brian nudged you and Ted smiled weakly, realizing he was about to be an audience to something he didn�t want to see.

"I�m not sure it�s a good idea," you began tentatively. "Wouldn�t it make more sense to cut all ties?"

Brian stared at you with something hard and disconcerting in his gaze. When he spoke his voice was low, and if you didn�t know any better you would have thought him to be scared.

"Fuck, Sunshine, are you even able to make up your mind? First you complain I didn�t call or visit, and when I finally make plans you decide it�s a bad idea!"

What could you say to that? It was pretty much the crux of the entire situation. How could you explain to him that the reason you couldn�t see him was because it would never be enough? Because he hadn�t bothered to visit before and you had spent most of your time sitting around wondering if he would show, thinking perhaps that the next knock at the door would be him, and you would fling it open and wrap your arms around his waist, refusing to let go.

It barely made sense in your own brain, let alone out-loud, and you weren�t about to use Michael�s reasoning for never seeing him again: that he thought it would cause him too much pain, that it was better to cut him off completely than leave him hanging on to you like the fading remnants of a fucked up dream.

So you remained silent instead, and Ted whistled quietly into his glass.

Brian continued to stare at you, his expression changing by the second, from vaguely hurt to reluctant understanding, and finally to rage.

You were brought out of your spell by a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up into the enthusiastic face of a young guy.

"Remember me?" he asked, smiling broadly, his gaze flickering to Ted and Brian for a second before landing back on your face. "Josh Brogan. We met at the art show at PIFA. Can I buy you a drink?"

Brian snorted and stood up, brushing past you as he made his way over to the bar. It seemed that confronting Michael was the lesser of two evils when compared to standing around talking to you.

Ted shot you a sympathetic look and took after Brian, leaving you with Josh.

"Thanks," you told him, smiling tightly, and downed your glass. "I think I could do with another one."

He nodded and grabbed the arm of the nearest barman as he picked up some empty bottles from the table nearby.

You thought maybe you had found your ghost of Christmas future, and suddenly resented the English teacher at school who had forced you to read Dickens for an entire semester.

-*-

IX. Brian

You were livid. There were no other words to describe how you felt. You�d tried pretty much every way you could think of to express how you felt to Justin, and it just continued to fall upon dead ears.

You were at the point of giving up.

You were as stubborn as he was, perhaps even more so, but you didn�t see much point in trying to push him even further, not when all it was doing was shoving him away. It seemed the more you tried to drag your feet, the more detached and determined he became, and you didn�t want to become the man sitting waiting at the end of the phone, getting up to pace across the floor of the loft as you waited for him to call you back after leaving your fiftieth message on his voice mail that day.

You may have been stubborn but you knew when you were fighting a losing battle. It was time to give in to the inevitable.

You ordered another drink, making it a double, and knocked it back in record time, glancing over to where Justin sat with that annoying fan of his, basking in his attention, laughing as the boy leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

You felt old suddenly, watching them. Justin was just on the cusp of his life, waiting to see what the world had in store for him, while you had long ago accepted your place in line.

It used to feel fitting that you had those differences, but you weren�t so sure anymore. You had liked being one who was secure in his self-identity, a solid career under your belt. In contrast, he would live in awe, excitedly looking forward to the day when he could be in your place too.

You loved watching him as he inched forward towards his goals, basking in the knowledge that you were the one he looked up to, returning night after night to regale you with stories of his day.

On the flip side, he was the one who knew his own emotions, basking in them as if they were a luxurious bath. He never shied away from the depth of his feelings like you did, and it had always felt complimentary, as if you both had weaknesses in the areas the other felt strongest, and fed off each other, growing separately but in the same direction.

But it all seemed so redundant now, like you were only wanted when he needed a mentor to learn from. Like all good students, he took in what you taught, and finally he had surpassed you.

You supposed you should have been proud, and partly you were, but mainly you just felt resentment towards some unidentifiable force that things hadn�t been allowed to stay the same.

You knocked back your drink and ordered another as Mikey left Ben talking to Ted and moved over to your side.

"Polishing those off a little quickly, aren�t you?" he asked, gesturing towards your glass.

You considered picking a fight with him for the confusion of the other day when you heard him talking to Justin in the bathroom at the diner, but at the same time wanted to just rest your head on his shoulder and ask him about his latest comic books, letting his ramble wash everything away.

"Fuck off, Mikey," you said, settling for a compromise, and ordered him a drink alongside yours.

-*-

X. Justin

The last thing you needed was Josh hanging all over you like you were his hero, asking your opinion on this painting or that, but you had been brought up to be nothing if not polite, and listened while he plied you with drink after drink, trying to focus on his face instead of Brian over at the bar, talking intently with Michael, a frown on his face.

"Sorry, what?"

Josh had said something but you hadn�t been listening, too caught up in your own sticky web of thoughts to hear what he was saying.

Josh laughed and leaned a little closer. "It doesn�t really matter. I just asked what you thought of last year�s winner of the Turner Prize. It seemed more like shock value than anything else�"

You tuned him out again, watching Brian over his shoulder as he nuzzled his nose against Michael�s cheek, his trademark manipulative look in his eyes as he tried to coerce him into having another drink.

"Justin?"

You blinked and looked back at Josh. "Pardon?"

"You were miles away again," he said, and turned slightly to look at Brian with a wash of understanding painting his face. "Had a fight?" he asked. "I don�t mean to pry but I�ve been told I�m a good listener, so if you want to talk�"

He trailed off and you smiled at how eager to please he was. You remembered being like that once upon a time and felt slightly embarrassed at the thought.

"No, it�s okay. It�s pretty complicated," you replied.

He nodded as if he understood. "So, you�re dating him?"

You sensed the warning signs in his voice. He was sniffing out the competition, and you inwardly sighed.

"I don�t really know what you would call Brian and me," you admitted.

"He�s hot," Josh said, licking his lips. "And notorious around Liberty Avenue."

You laughed. "I guess he is."

"Doesn�t that bother you?" he asked curiously. "It would bother me if my boyfriend tricked."

You shrugged. You�d been asked this question so many times and you response used to come automatically. At one time you had hated it with the fire of a thousand suns, but once you begun to understand why Brian did it, the hate simmered down to something else. You would never really like it in the same way as he did, you knew that, but it had always been part of the package and something you had to accept.

"It�s not my place to be bothered," you replied, telling the truth, knowing he wouldn�t have a clue what you were talking about.

Your choices had left you without any rights, and you wished they left you without any feelings too. It would have been easier to cope like that. So now you felt you couldn�t exactly claim you were bothered, even though you always had been.

"And what are your personal policies on tricking?" Josh asked, and ran a finger around his glass in what you imagined he thought of as a seductive manner.

You knew how easy it would be to fuck him and you weren�t sure how you felt about that. You had participated in enough casual sex in your time, first in an effort to keep up with Brian, secondly in an attempt to understand him, and finally just because you could, because you liked sex, and if you did it too it would stop you from going insane when you smelled someone else on his skin.

Fuck it. Perhaps feeling someone else�s body underneath your hands would make you realize that the world didn�t start and end with Brian fucking Kinney, and that you could be happy with someone else, if only for sex.

You drained your glass and stood up shakily, feeling more than a little tipsy, and tried to give Josh your best disarming smile.

"Come on," you said. "Why don�t I show you my policies?"

You felt reckless, and a small, distant part of your brain told you that it probably wasn�t a good idea, but you pushed it aside for once, fed up with listening to yourself.

You walked from the bar, ignoring the look Michael gave you, his gaze lingering on Josh.

You didn�t think you had any good ideas left these days.

-*-

XI. Brian

Mikey did what he did best, which was mainly sticking to your side like glue, refusing to leave even when you told him to fuck off. It bugged the shit out of you most of the time, but you knew why he did it, realizing that you would give in eventually and begin to talk.

He was one of the people who knew you best, after all, and even though he had an uncanny habit of sticking his foot in his mouth at the worst of times, you knew he did it because he cared about you. In the end you always trusted what he had to say, even if you didn�t always agree, and sometimes, when he was particularly clear-minded, he knew what you needed even when you had no idea yourself.

"He�s an asshole," he said, point blank, no sooner had he sat by your side, and you had to laugh. You didn�t agree with his assessment, however much you wanted to, but you appreciated it nonetheless, because his vehement opposition of Justin at certain times always pushed you into defending him, which in turn calmed you down and forced you to look at things through his eyes.

"Nah, Mikey. He�s just doing what he needs to do," you replied, referring to Justin�s insistence that he was going back to New York.

"I hope he never sells another painting again," Mikey continued petulantly, and you nudged his shoulder.

"I hope he sells all of his paintings. Every single one. What�s the fucking point of any of this mess if he turns out to be a failure?"

Mikey snorted, obviously not agreeing. "If he fails then we can sit around in ten year�s time, getting high, feeling smug because we know he would have been better off staying with you."

"He wouldn�t be," you told him. "We all know that. Why do you think he left in the first place?"

"Because he�s a selfish jerk," Mikey concluded, and took a sip of his drink.

You grinned and kissed his face. "I taught him well, didn�t I?" you said wistfully.

"You sound awfully calm about the whole thing," Mikey commented, eyeing you as if expected you to break down in tears at any moment.

It felt a little odd to admit it to yourself, but it was true: you were calm.

You�d been telling yourself all week to stop fighting it, but hadn�t been able to. But now, perhaps you finally had.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and you smiled, ordering another round of drinks. "I guess I am," you replied. "It doesn�t change anything to struggle against it. Besides, I told Sunshine to be the best fucking fag he could be, so I can�t exactly complain when he does just that, can I?"

Mikey pulled a face and watched as you took a large gulp from your glass. "I don�t like that he�s breaking your heart," he said. "But to be honest, I�m confused. I would have thought you would be more upset that it seems he doesn�t need you anymore."

Your smile stretched a little wider. "For a start, you can�t break something that hasn�t been fixed," you said, playing with a beer mat as you thought about it. "And I think I would be a little hypocritical if I truly hated him going off and finding his own path. I spent long enough trying to get him to do just that."

"Doesn�t it make you sad though?" He asked, his eyes slightly unfocused, his voice slurred from drink.

You shrugged. "If I continued to let it. But it�s not a horrible sadness anymore." You felt good just saying it, and hoped it wasn�t the drink talking for you to cushion the inevitable blow. "It�s sort of bittersweet, because I�m not needed anymore. But I guess I really am fucking proud of the little shit."

Mikey sighed and hooked his foot around one of your ankles, looking intently up at your face. "I�m fucking proud of you too."

You smiled slightly and looked away. You�d never been particularly good with that type of compliment, feeling far more at ease with something along the lines of �you�re hot, I want to fuck you�, but then again, it was Mikey you were talking to, and you�d only just managed to shake off his lust for you. You didn�t particularly want to head back over that old ground.

"Uhm, Brian?"

You glanced back at Mikey, still smiling. "Yeah, yeah, I love you too." You rolled your eyes.

He snorted and bumped your knee with his. "I wasn�t going to say that, although of course it�s true�" he trailed off and you sensed immediately that something was wrong.

"Spit it out, Mikey."

He indicated towards the door with his head and you looked over to see Justin walking out of the bar, that ugly little art kid�s hand planted firmly in the middle of his ass.

Despite everything you had just said, you still saw red.

-*-

XII. Justin

You led Josh out to the alleyway next to Woody�s, trying to ignore how he was bouncing around like an over-excited puppy who had just been told he was being taken for a walk.

You leant back against the wall, wishing you hadn�t left your jacket in Brian�s car as the cold of the bricks behind you seeped through your t-shirt.

You glanced to the side as one of the barmen came out of the side door and emptied some trash into the industrial sized garbage can, giving you both an amused look before going back inside.

You looked back at Josh and he lunged for your mouth. You quickly shoved a hand against his chest.

"I don�t kiss," you told him, then wondered why you said it.

It had been a while since you had made that pact with Brian. You had broken it, first with the virgin at the party Daphne had invited you to, and later with Ethan. For you, kissing had always been a part of sex, and while you knew your reasoning for making the promise in the first place, you couldn�t quite stop yourself. Sometimes it just felt too clinical without.

But clinical was what you needed right then, and you ignored the slightly hurt look on Josh�s face as he deflected his lips to your neck, placing kisses against the skin that felt altogether too tender.

You pushed him off you with your hands on his shoulders, and stared down into his face.

"You�re not a virgin are you?" you asked, and he shook his head.

"I�ve let a few people fuck me before."

"Good," you replied. "Because I�m not exactly in the mood for teaching someone who's inexperienced."

You pulled apart the fastenings on your jeans, aware that your cock was only half-hard, and took his wrist, guiding his hand down.

He moaned when he touched you and you couldn�t help but roll your eyes. You let your head drop back against the wall and you shut them, hoping that your body would react better if you couldn�t see his face.

He fisted your cock almost desperately, and started kissing your neck again. "I�ve always dreamed about doing this to you," he murmured. "I�ve got all of your reviews at home. I jerk off to your picture when I�m alone."

You almost cringed at that. It was painful how utterly eager he was, how na�ve. You ignored the little voice inside your head that spoke up, telling you that you had acted in just the same way with Brian when you first met him.

You reached down, covering his hand with your own, changing his disorganized pace to something a little more to your liking in the hope that it would make a difference and you might actually get hard enough to fuck him sometime that night.

"I can�t believe I�m going to be fucked by Justin Taylor," Josh said, and kissed along your jaw, getting dangerously close to your mouth again.

You moved your face away deliberately, letting it fall to one side, and glanced down the alley, your eyes suddenly going wide.

There at the entrance, standing casually, his hands in his pockets, was Brian, his head tilted, a curious look on his face. He caught your eyes and held your gaze, smiling, his expression calculating, and your cock twitched in response.

It was like you had finally realized he was your ghost of Christmas present.

Josh moaned again, undoubtedly thinking he was doing a good job, and you watched silently as Brian began walking towards you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"If you�re going to be a sycophant," he said loudly, when he was near enough, his gaze dropping to Josh. "You should really learn how to do it properly."

Josh froze and stared up at Brian, a guilty expression crossing his face.

"Well?" Brian asked, folding his arms across his chest. "I�m waiting. Don�t let me stop your fun. I�ll just stand here and watch."

Josh pulled his hand away from you and wiped it on his jeans as if he was suddenly tainted. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then changed his mind, shooting you a look as if he thought Brian�s intrusion was all your fault, which you had to admit it probably was, and then stalked back down the alleyway, disappearing across the street.

You looked back at Brian, who tried to look apologetic. "Sorry, Sunshine," he said, sounding anything but.

You didn�t think you were either.

-*-

XIII. Brian

You stared at Justin in the fading light of the alleyway, enjoying the guarded expression on his face. The urge to make him hurt the way you did was overwhelming, although you knew it wasn�t fair.

The drink inside you urged you on, and you stepped in front of him, studying his face. You batted his hand away when he reached for you, and glanced down, wrapping your fingers around his rapidly hardening cock.

"Did you like that, Sunshine?" you whispered, leaning in close to his face. You brushed your thumb over his head and then down his length, tracing the vein on the underside. "Did it turn you on to hear his simpering praises?"

You tugged a little harder and he whimpered, his eyes falling closed. His mouth parted and you darted your tongue out, tracing his bottom lip. "Do you get excited at the thought of kids like him looking up to you, admiring your work? Does it make you hard?"

He pushed his hips towards you, his cock throbbing in your hand, and you smiled at his reaction, barely brushing your lips against his.

"Do you like how it feels to know he jerks off to you, shooting his load all over your face?" you breathed into his mouth, feeling your pants tightening at how easy it was to get him to react.

"He wants to be like you," you told him, your fingers slipping in his pre-come as you shifted your grip, your hand jerking roughly around him.

He moaned in response and you crushed your mouth down upon his, bruising his lips. He kissed you back ferociously, his hands diving for your pants, and you forgot yourself for a second as he grabbed you through the cloth, your prick reacting to him instantly and hardening a little more.

You brought your mind back into focus and pushed away from him, sinking to your knees on the ground. It was so unlike you to pay no regard to the dirt on the floor, but it was fitting in that moment, your need to punish him, to show who was in control greater than any heed you had for the state of your clothes.

You wrapped your hand around his base, and took him into your mouth, burying him up to the hilt. He gasped and pushed quickly forwards, thrusting his hips as he thrashed about, desperate for release.

You tongued the tender skin just under his head as you sucked him, taking note of every little reaction he made, and reached around, pressing your finger up against his entrance, bringing him even closer to the edge.

You thrust your finger past the ring of muscle, pressing deep inside of him, and gave him one final suck, your hand tightening around him to form a seal with your mouth. He cried out and came hard down your throat, his hips jerking helplessly towards your face as you struggled to hold him back with your other hand.

You released him when he was finally spent, and stood up, brushing down the knees of your pants. You lifted a finger to your lips, catching a drop of his come as it escaped, and sucked the digit into your mouth.

He was breathing heavily, his head tilted back against the wall, his eyes still shut.

"Sunshine?" you asked, and his eyes flew open.

You smiled at him softly and leant forward, giving him a kiss.

He kissed back, practically melting into you, and you let him do what he wanted for a moment before you pulled back.

You smiled again, and he returned it, unguarded in his afterglow.

"I would invite you back to the loft for a second round," you informed him, your voice steady and your smile still in place. "But these days you�re not really into staying around."

You reached up and brushed your thumb over his lips, and then took off back down the alley, heading for your car, leaving him looking shocked, his breath hitching in his throat as his cock lay cold and flaccid against his thigh.

-*-

Epilogue.

Some people say that there are those in your life whose influence is so big that it never goes away, and Justin finds he has to agree.

There have been plenty of people who have entered his life and whom now he can�t remember, but a few stand out as changing the course of his life forever.

People like Chris Hobbes who delivered him a wake-up call with the swing of his bat, and people like Debb who show him what it really means to love someone like a true friend should, no matter how much you disagree with the choices they make.

But then there is Brian, and Justin can�t think of a single person who has had more influence on his life.

As he does up his jeans, wrapping his arms around himself to keep out the cold, and goes out onto the street to hail a passing cab, he wonders if nothing short of a fucking miracle can keep him out of his life. It doesn�t matter where he runs, where he hides, Brian will always be there right by his side.

His past, his present, his god damn future, all rolled into one.
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