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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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Prologue.

Some people say that when everything else is gone, hope is what is left; it�s almost as if they believe that when all else fails, the human spirit manages to go on existing because tomorrow is always another day.

But isn�t that something soap operas are made of? A tiny pinprick of light that pulls the characters back from the edge just when they are about to take a nosedive over the cliff?

Real life doesn�t always work that way - it�s rarely that dramatic. Mostly it�s just the passing of seconds, ticking by on the hand of a clock; monotonous routine day-to-day living that you cling onto, that keeps you from going insane, barely daring to draw a breath in case it pushes you past the point of no return.

Then one day the clouds break and that tiny glimpse of Sunshine is all it takes to put you back on track.

-*-

I. Brian

The alarm startled you awake and you rolled over, grunting, punching haphazardly at the button until your silence is restored. You felt the warmth in your bed before you saw it, and you opened one eye, peering blearily at the figure sprawled out beside you.

Through the haze of receding sleep his blonde head looked awfully familiar, and for just one second you allowed yourself to believe that he had come home to you. You reached out to touch his hair, winding the strands around your fingers, ignoring the length and the style.

Perhaps he had it cut?

His hand uncurled itself, revealing the previously obscured face, and you closed your eyes, trying to hold onto the image in your brain for just one more moment.

"Christ, where am I?"

The baritone severed your dream, and you sighed, heaving yourself upright against the headboard.

"In hell," you replied. "This must be your lucky day. Now get dressed and get the fuck out."

He gave you a strange look which you blatantly ignored, and began to get dressed. On your way to the bathroom you paused to get a good look at him.

What on earth were you thinking?

You ignored the achingly familiar voice in your head that tells you that you probably weren�t.

-*-

II. Justin

You woke up smelling of sex, a regular occurrence these days. You lay in your bed, trying to piece together the events of the previous night, and found yourself struggling to remember a name or a face. Nothing strange about that either. All you could remember is a pair of haunting brown eyes and the echo of an orgasm you get the feeling is wise to forget.

Downstairs your mother was making waffles and smiled at you in a way you�re certain is a construct of sympathy more than anything else. You ignored your plate and blindly poured some coffee, burning your tongue on your first sip.

"Did you have fun last night?" she asked innocently, her look lingering far too long.

"I can�t remember." You shrugged, ignoring the way she pursed her lips before finally handing you the syrup.

Breakfast with a side of disapproval is always a good way to start the day.

-*-

III. Brian

The office was empty when you arrived, and you began by going through the accounts of your latest clients, noting their concerns down on a legal pad and leaving them on Cynthia�s desk to deal with when she comes in.

Ted ambled through the door ten minutes late, with a stinking hangover, and you wasted another twenty lecturing him on the importance of work ethics, insisting he make up the time at the end of the day.

He was nice enough not to remind you of your conspicuous absence the previous week.

Lunch brought with it a visit from Mikey and JR, who�s still young enough to have the women who work for you cooing over her in delight. Mikey eventually bundled her off to Melody in the arts department and firmly closed your door, tapping the executives� toy on your desk with one finger, activating the swinging motion.

"How can I help you?" you asked him, steepling your fingers and putting on your best professional voice.

"Did you fuck him last night?" Mikey has never been one to beat around the bush.

"Who would that be?" you asked, playing dumb, a smile on your face.

"Justin!" he exclaimed, shaking his head.

You busied yourself rearranging papers on your desk, leaving him to stew in the wild stories his imagination had already concocted.

Five minutes passed in silence.

"Well?" he demanded, and you raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest.

"Well what?" you asked, and then rolled your eyes. "Oh! You mean your idiotic question, which while we�re on the subject, is none of your god damn business."

"The hell it isn�t!" he shot back, his voice raising a notch, his fingers tightening around the arms of his seat.

"I didn�t fuck him," you told him finally, suddenly tired, hoping honesty brings a quicker route to his exit.

He studied you for a moment, trying to decipher the truth from the blank look on your face.

"Good," he finalized, seemingly happy with what he saw.

You were not sure you entirely agreed with his assessment.

-*-

IV. Justin

You spent most of the morning in your mother�s house playing with Molly. You thought that the next person to tell you that something you created to entertain a child would be worth a fortune one day would get a quick punch in the face.

You managed to escape just after lunch, deciding it was obviously a sign to go when Molly started making two of her action figures - one blonde, one dark - kiss and walk down an imaginary aisle.

The diner was teeming with people when you entered and you took a moment to stand by the door, soaking everything up as if you weren�t sure you would see it again. You studied the way the little twink in the tank top filled his orders, snorting when he got them wrong twice in a row, and itched to snatch the apron from him and show him how it was done.

"Sunshine!" Debb exclaimed as she passed you with her hands full of pink plate specials, her face red and flustered. She was entirely in her element. "Sit over there by the counter and I�ll be with you in a second," she told you, and you pulled out a stool.

You hadn�t planned on staying, but Debb always had a way about her that made you comply with her orders.

"You just missed Ted and Emmett," she said as she began wiping the surface in front of you. "They tell me you managed to reacquaint yourself with Babylon�s etiquette pretty damn quickly."

She snapped her gum and beamed at you as if you had just won the Turner prize, and plonked a mug of coffee down in front of you.

"They don�t grow them in New York like they do in Pittsburgh," you replied, ducking your head.

Debb scribbled down the order of the man sitting two seats away and laughed in response. God, you missed that sound.

If you were honest you missed most things about Pittsburgh: the bustle of the diner, the swaying sweaty bodies in Babylon, walking along Liberty Avenue and feeling there was somewhere safe where you felt you could be yourself.

And yes�even him.

Debb leaned on the counter when she came back from handing the order to the cook, and tapped a button on her vest. �Pride� it read.

"There�s nowhere on earth like Pittsburgh," she said. She tapped another button just to the side of it. �I love New York� it screamed in bold red type. "But it�s definitely not a place where dreams are made."

She grinned at you as if she held all of the secrets in the world and dished them out alongside plates of burgers and fries.

You looked back at the buttons.

They weren�t so far away from each other after all.

-*-

V. Brian

You finished work early, leaving Cynthia and Ted to tie things up, and headed down Liberty Avenue in your Prada suit, brushing past the men who stopped to give you a second glance.

The diner was crowded when you entered, and you looked around for an empty booth. Finding them all occupied you approached the counter, drawing up short when you saw who was sitting there.

Debb smiled at you on her way past, and patted your shoulder. "Coffee, black, hold the sugar?" she asked, knowing full well the answer.

You slipped into the chair next to him and opened your paper, trying to look like you had better things to do than make conversation.

"Never realized you cared about teenage mothers and their housing plights," Justin said, looking over your shoulder, a knowing smile playing over his lips.

You shut the paper with a scowl and drank from your cup, eyeing him over the rim.

"Good day?" he asked, his eyes running over your suit, leaving you feeling strangely exposed.

"Average day," you replied. "Working on a campaign for Fishers."

"The clothing manufacturer?" he asked, leaning a little too close for your liking. "I�m not sure even you can make thermal underwear look sexy."

You snorted and drained your cup, reaching over the counter for the pot, helping yourself to a refill. "I make everything look sexy."

His silence was his response. He couldn�t exactly disagree with you there.

-*-

VI. Justin

There were two ways you could play it with Brian: cool and aloof, leaving no room for flirtation; or you could carry on as if you had never left in the first place. You abandoned the first idea pretty quickly. It took too much energy to pretend that he didn�t get underneath your skin. And besides, if last night was anything to go by, it didn�t exactly work out the way you had planned it anyway.

At least acting the second way meant you got to see him smile occasionally, and anyway, despite the way he held himself, his face a careful mask making sure he didn�t betray any emotions, you were sure that he was affected by this visit too.

Even if it was just a little bit.

You felt giddy when you leaned in close to him to peer at his paper and caught a whiff of his scent. He was wearing new cologne with a heavy spicy tang, but underneath that there was something familiar that made your stomach clench.

"So what�s your housemate like?" he asked casually, his first real question since you had come back.

"He�s alright," you replied, busying yourself with pouring sugar into your cup. "He�s not around very often, and when he is he pretty much keeps himself to himself."

"I hear he�s a musician," he said, giving you a look. "Piano isn�t it?"

You nodded, wondering what he was getting at. "He�s pretty good at it too."

"I see."

Brian watched you and you felt like it was some sort of test.

"You make a habit out of shacking up with musicians," he said, and took another sip from his cup.

Oh!

Ouch.

"He�s straight, Brian," you told him, cutting right to the heart of what you assumed was bothering him.

He sniffed in reply and picked up his paper again. Fuck, when did it get to this?

Debb came back over, topping up your cup, and leant against the counter, watching you both.

"How long are you staying for, Sunshine?" she asked softly, her eyes on Brian.

You shrugged in response. "A few days, maybe a week. I have a show in three weeks time and I have to get back to prepare for that."

Debb nodded and you glanced up, catching the tail end of her sympathetic look.

Brian had his nose buried in the sports section.

-*-

VII. Brian

Going to the club each night kept you busy, and that�s the reason you gave yourself as you pushed your way through the crowd, nodding a greeting every now and again. It had nothing to do with the boy at the bar, laughing his head off at something Emmett had just said.

Nothing at all.

You gestured to the barman who poured you a drink, and settled down next to Ted who was busy staring morosely into his glass.

"Where�s Blake?" you asked him, savoring the burn of the Beam down your throat.

"Boston," he replied, looking like he had just been kicked. "He�s attending a conference about new methods in rehabilitation."

"New methods?" you snorted. "I was always under the impression there were only two ways to do rehab: either you came out spanking clean, waxing lyrical about the evils of illicit drug use," you paused to inhale from the tiny vial you kept in your shirt pocket, "or you came out and headed to the nearest dealer, landing you back in there within the week."

Ted visibly stiffened, giving you a disapproving look. "Just because you manage to maintain what appears to be a non-addictive habit doesn�t mean everyone is as lucky."

"What can I say?" you smiled, slinging an arm over his shoulder and picking up his glass. "I�m a natural born user." You took a swig, wrinkling your nose up at the taste. "What the hell is this shit?"

"Tonight�s special cocktail," he replied, looking smug. "It�s your fault if it sucks."

"Sucking." You looked pensive. "Now there�s a subject I can really get my teeth into."

Ted winced.

Out of the corner of your eye you watched Emmett trying to coax Justin out onto the dance floor by pouting at him and flinging his arms out in flamboyant exasperation.

Justin laughed, finally relenting, and let Emmett hook his fingers through the belt loop of his pants, leading him through the gyrating people like a dog on a leash.

You tuned out Ted�s diatribe on the twelve-step program and ordered another drink.

-*-

VIII. Justin

You hated to admit it but you were having fun. You were skeptical when Emmett turned up at the house wearing a bright pink shirt and leather pants so tight you wondered if he could sit down in them, and insisted you were going out.

You went to Woody�s first, and were surprised at how many people came up to you to enquire about New York. It seemed nothing remained private in Liberty Avenue.

Emmett convinced you it was a good idea to work your way through the cocktail list for �old time�s sake� and by the time he started bringing up the subject of Brian and the wedding-that-never-was, you were too drunk to defend yourself against it.

"I�ve known Brian for years," he mused, resting his chin in his hand. "And I never pinned him down as the marrying type."

"He isn�t," you responded, sloshing your drink over the side of your glass as you attempted to get it to connect to your lips. "Why do you think we didn�t do it?"

"Because you left for New York," Emmett replied, watching you. He did an admirable job of making you feel guilty without ever intending to.

"Partly," you admitted. "But that was just a small portion of it. It was one of the expressions of the cause."

Emmett considered this as he stuck his straw in his mouth and delicately sipped on his Cosmo. "Michael said it was something to do with sex."

"That too." You hiccoughed and managed to put your glass back down on the table without spilling another drop.

"I thought you always had a fantastic sex life," he continued. "If it was becoming stale you could always have used some toys to spice it up."

You hid a smile and shook your head. "It wasn�t anything like that. Sex with Brian�" you trailed off, barely caring about the vaguely dreamy expression that had bound to have crossed your face.

"Sweetie, I�ve heard the stories," Emmett finished. "Brian Kinney, the best fuck in Pittsburgh, able to keep going all night." He waved one hand dismissively, almost swatting a guy on his way to the bar. "Yes, yes, I know all that. So what is it?"

"Monogamy," you said, twirling a tiny blue umbrella between your fingers. "That, and cuddling."

Emmett gave you a knowing look. "We�ve always told you that he�d never be the type to curl up in bed with a mug of cocoa, and consider an evening of Letterman a worthwhile pursuit. I thought you had realized that by now."

You sighed in exasperation and looked suspiciously at the toxic-looking cocktail the barman had just placed in front of you. "I had," you said, dipping your finger into the drink and licking it experimentally. "I worked that out a long time ago, and what�s more, I came to understand that I just didn�t care. Brian is Brian, and I�" you paused, choosing your words carefully, "care about him the way he is."

Emmett tapped one of his long fingers against his cheek. "So what exactly was the problem then? By the time you tell me all of the cute guys at Babylon will have settled down for the night!"

You smiled and leaned back in your chair, scratching the back of your head. "Brian was the one going on about monogamy and�cuddling. He thought it was what I wanted." You could barely bring yourself to mention it.

"Noooooooo!" Emmett exclaimed, his eyes wide. "The slut of the Pitts wanted to cuddle?!"

You nodded solemnly and watched as he dissolved into peals of laughter. You sunk a little lower in your seat, trying to hide behind your drink.

Emmett recovered himself enough to stop you worrying he may collapse at any moment from a heart attack, and pulled himself to his feet.

"Well, sweetie," he said, offering you his hand. "I hate to say it, but it does explain a hell of a lot. Now let�s go dance!"

You took his hand and followed him out of the bar.

You really didn�t think you wanted to know what he had meant by that.

-*-

IX. Brian

You scowled over your glass as you watched them dance, eyeing Emmett through narrowed eyes as he bumped his hip against Justin�s. They were both far too drunk for their own good, you decided, ignoring the half empty bottle you insisted the bartender leave by your side.

It wasn�t right, you thought, as you watched Justin throw his arms around Emm�s neck, grinning all over the place, that he could come back just like that and act like nothing had changed. He�d only go away again, back to his prissy little apartment and his prissy little life, leaving you to brush off everyone�s attempts at engaging you in social activities, while at the same time trying not to show too much pity.

"Alright there, Brian?" Mikey nudged you as he slipped into the seat by your side.

You grunted and pulled out a cigarette, lit it and took a long drag.

Mikey looked over towards Justin and Emmett and then back at you. He opened his mouth to say something.

"Where�s the little hubby tonight?" you cut in quickly before he had a chance to comment.

"He took Hunter to the movies," Mikey replied. "So I thought I�d come down here and hang out for a while."

"I don�t need a babysitter," you shot at him, glancing over with a frown on your face. "I�m perfectly capable of sitting here and getting drunk all alone."

"That�s what I was afraid of," he replied, nonplussed, and took a sip of your drink.

You watched him carefully, running your tongue over your teeth. "Haven�t you got something better to do, like spending valuable time with the Boy Wonder before he catches his flight home?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. "I�m sure Emmett can cope."

You sat in silence for a while, trying to ignore the little looks he kept on casting in your direction, until you finally snapped. "What?!" you exclaimed, pulling a face.

Mikey shrugged. "You�re allowed to be bothered by it all. I know I would be if--"

"If Ben was doing the same. Yes, I�ve already heard it so save your fucking breath." You ground out your cigarette, half finished.

"Well," he snorted. "Maybe it�s best if Justin stays away if this is how you act when he�s around."

You glared at him, and it was at that moment that Justin and Emmett decided to reappear, saving Mikey from a fate worse than death. They propped each other up as they laughed and ordered some drinks, both of them out of breath.

"Mikey!" Emmett grinned and pulled him into a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"He figured out how to unlock his cage all by himself," you replied, and leaned over to pinch Mikey�s cheek.

He scowled and started to repeat Ben�s whereabouts. You felt a pair of eyes on you and looked up, straight into Justin�s face.

He looked slightly ruffled from dancing, pink in the cheeks, his hair falling across one eye. You felt an overwhelming urge to reach over and brush it away, so you looked back at your drink.

"Come dance with us, Mikey!" Emmett insisted, and tried to pull him off his stool.

Mikey began to shake his head, so you poked him hard in the ribs. "You barely come out with us anymore," you said. "Why don�t you go all out and try and recapture your youth?"

"Fuck you!" Mikey laughed. "You�re older than I am."

You gave him a toothy grin. "I�ll always be young."

Emmett tugged on his arm again and he finally relented, standing up. "Just one song," he warned and they disappeared into the crowd.

His seat vacated, Justin plonked himself down and picked up your Beam, taking a swig. "You drink too much," he said, his eyes slightly glazed over.

You raised one eyebrow and prised his fingers away from the bottle, taking a swig for yourself. "And you haven�t been?"

"No, not nearly enough!" he declared and pillowed his head on top of his arms, resting on the surface of the bar. "I�ve only had�" he tried to calculate in his head and ended up having to resort to using his fingers.

You looked at him expectantly when he frowned, a confused look crossing his face.

"What?"

"Not enough fingers," he replied, sticking his bottom lip out, and grabbed one of your hands.

You swallowed, your eyes fixed on his face as he counted up his tally again, adding three of your digits to the total.

"Thirteen, I think," he said, tilting his head. "Nine at Woody�s, which is one of every cocktail they make, and four here."

"That�s a lot of drinks," you commented, cursing your voice for sounding so rough.

"Hmm," he mused, and began to trace nonsense patterns across your palm with his fingertips.

One look at his face told you he had no idea he was doing it.

"Hmm?" you parroted, half telling yourself to shut up, and half forcing yourself to say something, anything, to keep the conversation going.

And the incessant movement of his fingers.

"Everyone says thirteen is an unlucky number," Justin mused, his eyes on your hand. "What do you think?"

"I think�" you wetted your lips, "that it�s just a number. It�s neither lucky or unlucky."

He considered this with such an intense look on his face that you almost laughed.

"I think it�s a lucky number," he told you, "no matter what people say."

"Why�s that?" you asked, your eyes wide as you watched him.

"A number of reasons." He shrugged. "I was thirteen years old when I won my first art competition. There were only thirteen places available to eighty-five students vying for admittance when I got accepted into the Institute of Fine Arts."

He looked up at you again, his face like an open book. "And it took approximately thirteen minutes to realize I loved you."

The song ended and another started, causing a group of people nearby to jump from their seats and head towards the dance floor, jostling you on their way.

You pulled your hand from his as if you had been stung.

It had been the thirteenth of the month when he went away.

-*-

X. Justin

You scowled as the men knocked into Brian, forcing his hand away, and brushed off the mild surprise you felt when you looked up into his face, putting his expression down to the same annoyance you were feeling.

You whistled to catch the barman�s attention, and asked for a couple of shots, handing one to Brian.

"I think that should be your last," he said, making a face as he knocked his own back.

"But I�m on vacation!" you protested, and ordered a second round. "And besides, I don�t get drunk very often in New York."

"No?" he asked, sounding tired. Perhaps he was the one who should learn to stop.

"No," you confirmed, rather petulantly. "I don�t know anybody to drink with on a regular basis, and the times I am out I�m either at a gallery, where it�s not the correct thing to consume too much of the free champagne," you paused, smiling as you remembered the time Daphne came up to see you and was so enamoured with the fact that she didn�t have to pay, that she drank so much she was sick.

"Or?"

You glanced at him, trying to focus on his face. "Or what?"

"Either at the gallery, or�" he prompted.

"Oh. Yeah there wasn�t anything else." You avoided his eyes. You didn�t think it was a good idea to tell him that the only other times you were drinking were when your plan was to get so inebriated it didn�t matter who you were fucking.

And then you could pretend�

Brian shrugged and toyed with the shot in front of him, before he poured that one down his throat as well. He looked up as the barman removed the now empty bottle of Beam and gave you both a third and final shot.

"I thought you said I shouldn�t have anymore," you told Brian as he pushed yours over to you.

"You�re a big boy now, Justin," he replied. "I�m sure you�ve worked out when enough is enough." He raised one eyebrow at you.

Indeed you had.

-*-

XI. Brian

"You never called," he said after a while, and you pulled your gaze away from Mikey and Emmett to glance at him.

"I�m not much for phones," you replied with a shrug.

It didn�t deter him.

"You never came to see me," he continued after five minutes had passed.

"I was busy with the new accounts."

And trying your best to convince yourself that while you never wanted to see Britin again, holding onto it was a worthy investment.

"Didn�t you get the invitation to my first show?"

You looked away again before you caught a glimpse of the hurt in his eyes.

"I got it. I just didn�t see the point in going; what the fuck do I know about art?"

"You always said you liked my stuff."

You sighed and toyed with your lighter. "Justin, I did like your stuff. I do like it."

You buy all the magazines that give him reviews.

"Then why didn�t you come?" His voice was full of accusation.

"Do you really think you would have wanted me there?" you replied. "It had been less than a month."

"Everyone else came."

You could hear the pout in his voice and looked across to see him sitting with his arms folded across his chest, glaring at you.

"Good for them," you replied. You refused to get into this. He made a choice to leave and you made one to stay away. It didn�t change anything.

Sometimes you wished it had.

-*-

VII. Justin

For someone you cared about, Brian had an uncanny knack for pissing you off. Sometimes it felt like he went deliberately out of his way just to annoy you.

It sure as hell worked.

Michael returned to the bar, shaking his head at a pleading Emmett who was demanding just one more dance. You looked over through the pulsating lights to the jumble of bodies on the dance floor, lost in their own little worlds, high on their own energy, perhaps more. You envied them, even though you knew each had their own problems. Their own dreams.

None of them had god damn Brian Kinney.

You grabbed the glass of whiskey from the barman as he moved to place it in front of Michael, and drank it down in one, slamming it back down on the bar.

You stood up and stretched. "I feel like dancing," you said, and turned to Brian, a determined set to your jaw. "Come with me."

He blinked up at you, his shoulders hunched as if he was trying to block out the world, and furrowed his brow. Evidently he thought you were crazy.

"I�m not going to take no for an answer," you informed him, feeling full of drink, bravado, and something else you failed to pinpoint and refused to analyze.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, and you held up one hand.

"You once told me that I should grow some balls," you said. "I took your advice then, and I have applied it ever since. I�m not going to leave you alone until you dance with me."

You ignored the slack-faced stares from Emmett and Michael, and stood up, wobbling slightly, and put your hands on your hips.

"Well?" you asked, daring him with your eyes, and spun around, waltzing off into the crowd without a backward glance.

You crossed your fingers in front of you as you found a space and started dancing, closing your eyes and hoping that if he didn�t follow then the next time you opened them you would find yourself in your own bed, the entire evening relegated to nothing more than a particularly nasty nightmare.

You didn�t dare to dream.

-*-

XIII. Brian

The little fucker, having the audacity to use your own advice against you! Served you right, you supposed. For taking someone so young under your expensively tailored wing.

You stared at his retreating back until Emmett made his presence known, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

"Are you going to just sit there?" he demanded. "He�s drunk out of his mind and anyone could take advantage."

You groaned and pushed yourself away from the bar, ignoring the satisfied look he gave Mikey.

Shit, since when were you Justin�s keeper?

You shoved people out of the way as you made your way towards him, and shook your head as you caught sight of his face in the spotlights. Little shit looked so blissed out that you were surprised he wasn�t asleep.

You moved up behind him, steadying him with your hands on his hips, feeling them shift under your palms, and caught the end of a soft sigh as he leant his back against you and continued to dance. It was easy to match his rhythm, soothing almost, because you didn�t have to answer any of his awkward questions anymore.

Your lids half closed and you lost yourself to the familiar beat thrumming through you, almost as if it was flowing through your veins instead of blood.

He turned around under your hands and slung one of his arms over your shoulder for balance, his eyes opening and locking onto yours.

You stared back into his face. He looked impossibly young all of a sudden, and you were reminded of all those years ago when he was still a teenager, stalking you around your familiar haunts, acting as if he just stayed around long enough then you would eventually come around to his way of thinking.

You guessed you had.

You didn�t stop him as he reached up and ran a thumb across your cheek. You imagined there were lines where none had been before, and subconsciously shrank back a bit.

His hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing firmly against your skin, and pulled your head down to his level.

His lips were soft and parted easily under yours. It was a dangerous game, and one you had willingly courted many times before.

You pulled back, almost as if everything was in slow motion, and pressed your forehead against his.

"You�re drunk," you whispered your lips brushing his as you spoke.

"I know," he replied, and gave you a half-smile. "I always have been."

-*-

Epilogue.

Some people say that it�s foolish to place everything on a distant hope, a passing fancy, that no matter what happens, everything will turn out alright, and sometimes Justin agrees.

He doesn�t believe in destiny or the idea that his entire life is down to chance. He believes that his decisions create his fate. Sometimes they may be the right decisions. Sometimes they may be wrong.

You just have to learn to live with the ones you make.
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After the End