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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Prologue.

Some people say that happiness is just a state of mind, as if you have a choice in being happy no matter what�s going on around you in the external world.

But isn�t it a little idealistic to believe that you can think yourself happy even if the sky is crashing down around your head? It�s one thing being optimistic, and entirely another being simply unrealistic.

Isn�t it more logical to admit that there will always be bad times waiting on the horizon? A boy with a grudge wielding a baseball bat, or a group of twisted, indoctrinated zealots who feel it is their duty to rid the world of queers.

Besides, doesn�t it sully the truly happy times if you pretend that everything is always hunky-dory? There would be no comparison, no benchmark with which to say �I know that in this moment I am truly happy� if you had never known what real sadness could bring.

It�s one of the dichotomies of life: that there can�t be night without day, light without darkness, joy without pain, birth without death, and love without hate.

When the good times do roll, you count yourself lucky and take mental snapshots of the way he looks when his life is good; when that sunshine smile comes out from behind a cloud and makes everything a little brighter, a little more worthwhile.

Because who knows when the next storm will set in?

-*-

I. Brian

You wake up to an empty loft yet again, but today you don�t mind it so much. It struck you as funny that one conversation the night before could make everything seem so much more hopeful.

You�d slept well for once, you didn�t wake up to a stinking hangover, there was enough hot water to take an extended shower, and you actually had some coffee in the cupboard.

You almost laughed as you walked around the loft. It seemed so ridiculous that absolutely everything in your life seemed bearable all because one little blonde twink said �okay�.

It hadn�t even been a particularly enthusiastic reply, but you don�t think you had heard anything nicer for months.

You glanced at the clock as you finished your cigarette and decided it was probably time to haul your ass into the office. Then you glanced at the calendar, narrowing your eyes at the seemingly innocent little boxes that counted down the days until his departure, and changed your mind.

You snapped your cell phone open and put in a call to Kinnetik.

"Theodore? It�s Brian."

"You sound sprightly for once. Let me guess, you�re calling in to let us know you�re running a little late. Picked up a trick last night did you?"

You clamped your lips down on a smile in case he heard you down the line. "Nope! I�m calling to tell you I won�t be in today. There aren�t any important meetings as I recall."

You heard him flipping through his diary. "No, nothing that can�t be rearranged. Why are you taking the time off? Not sick are you?"

"Don�t be stupid, Theodore," you chastised. "I don�t get sick."

"Right. I forgot."

You laughed and glanced out of the window. "So, think you can handle it? Cynthia knows what to do if you get stuck."

"It�s all under control, Bri. Go do what you have to do." He paused. "What are you going to do? No wait, don�t tell me. I don�t think I want to know."

"That�s the spirit!" you told him. "Now get back to work before we lose any money."

You severed the line before he had a chance to respond and toyed with your phone for a while before putting in another call.

"Ah, Jennifer. Good morning. It�s Brian. Kinney. Is Justin there?" You paused as you listened to her shouting for him. "No, that�s okay. Don�t wake him. I�ll call back later. No, no message. Thanks. Bye."

You snapped your phone shut and put it back on the counter, eyeing your car keys, then changed your mind and decided to wait a couple of hours, settling down in front of your computer to do some work.

Nearer noon, you got into your car and fiddled with the tuner on the radio as you drove, finally settling for a soft rock station. You�d always liked driving, finding the routine shifting of gears relaxing. Sometimes it was the only chance in a busy day that you had some time for yourself, and you tapped your fingers on the steering wheel as you turned into the street where Jennifer Taylor lived.

You had always felt out of place coming here, right into the heart of suburbia where perfect little lawns lay in perfect little rows, the white picket fences coated with fresh paint. It was a quiet, happy neighbourhood by all appearances, but you knew that the quietest exteriors housed the dirtiest secrets.

You pulled into the drive and killed the engine, looking out at the front of the house, recalling a time when you sat outside with Justin, tossing him a ball, feeling oddly normal and all at once out of place. Justin�s mother had pulled up in her car and told you she wanted you to stay away from her son.

Well, that worked out well, didn�t it?

You stood on the porch and raised a hand to ring the bell, when the door opened and out walked Jennifer, briefcase in her hand.

"Oh, hello, Brian. Didn�t expect to see you here." She looked a little wary, which you supposed was to be expected, considering the night before you had spent all your time making everyone feel uncomfortable before vanishing upstairs only to return a while later with a beaming Sunshine on your arm.

"He isn�t up yet," she told you, "but you can go in if you want." She held the door open and you were almost touched that she trusted you to be alone in there with him.

"Don�t worry about that," you replied, and stepped inside, suppressing a smile. "I�ll have him up in no time."

She gave you a look and then shook her head. "Tell him there�s chicken in the fridge if he wants some for lunch," she said, and with that she left.

You shut the door after her and walked into the living room. It was always unnerving witnessing what Debb referred to as �normal motherly concern.� It was something you had never experienced from your own. Her motherly duties extended as far as bearing down and pushing you out, and that is where it had ended.

The house was quiet as you glanced around, looking for the stairs, ascending two at a time. You found Justin�s room easily, a small plaque on the outside in his pre-teen scrawl that �intruders will be prosecuted.� You wiped away a smile with your hand and pushed open the door.

You were slightly surprised at the d�cor, having expected a vague version of Mikey�s old room, complete with a large garish frieze of cartoon characters. But it was just plain old blue, the coverlet matching the curtains and the carpet.

The pictures pinned to the far wall were what really interested you, and you crept forward for a better look.

It was Justin�s early work, you could tell, having been around him long enough to know he had progressed from simple pencil sketches to digitized abstracts in bright vivid colors, sometimes violent and always passionate.

You smiled as you looked over them, his own impressions of years gone by, when he was still just a na�ve teenage boy desperate to join the gay adult world, and determined to use you as his stepping stone.

There was a picture of Linds holding Gus, and you recognized the setting from the hospital on the evening you had first met Justin. Her hair was plastered to the sides of her head with sweat, and she wore the most alarming smile on her face, that of a proud parent who had absolutely no idea what to do with her squalling son.

Next was a rushed doodle of Debb in the diner, her flushed face stressed but happy as she chewed on the end of her tiny pencil, glancing up slightly as she grinned at Emmett, his long arms thrown over the back of the seat he was sitting in.

And then there was you: a dozen or so sketches in various steps of completion. Asleep, a hand curled against your face; a wet blur in the shower stall, your back pressed against the glass; in your suit, pouring over papers as you sipped your coffee in the diner; dressed up to go out clubbing, your hair falling perfectly across your face.

And your favourite, a sketch of just your head thrown back, your eyes closed, your lips parted slightly, fairground colours spinning above you as you lost yourself to an imaginary thumping beat.

You liked that one best because you looked happy, tension draining from your face.

Justin shifted in the bed, a small sigh escaping his lips, and you turned your attention back to him. His fingers were clenched around his pillow, which was half over his face, his hair a tangled mess against the sky blue of the sheets.

You smiled and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

"Rise and shine, Sunshine. You�re wasting the day."

He groaned and buried himself further under the covers.

Maybe it was time to try a different tactic.

-*-

II. Justin

You were in the middle of a dream, walking down Liberty Avenue with your hand tucked into the crook of Brian�s arm. People were passing you on the street and when you looked up you saw that each of their faces were the same: a strange morphed combination of Debbie�s eyes, Michael�s mouth, Emmett�s nose and Ted�s hair. You couldn�t help but stop and stare. You glanced up at Brian but he didn�t seem to notice that anything was out of place, and when one of them stopped you, leaning over to whisper �no regrets� in your ear, Brian continued walking down the road, a small smile gracing his lips, and got lost in the crowd.

You woke up with a start as the cold water hit you, and sat up, gasping, wiping your dripping hair from your eyes. You looked up to see Brian standing next to your bed, an empty glass in his hand and a triumphant smirk on his lips.

"Good morning!" he said cheerily, and you scowled back.

"Couldn�t you think of a better way to wake me up than drowning?" you asked, eyeing him. "A blowjob would have been nice."

He snorted and sat down on the edge of your bed. "Not exactly original, is it?"

"And throwing water over me is?" You sat back against your headboard and rubbed at your eyes. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Your mother let me in." He pulled his legs up and stretched out. "I called earlier but you were asleep."

"And with good reason," you said, wrinkling up your nose at the damp spots on the sheets. "Isn�t it some ridiculously early hour?"

"It�s almost noon now, you twat," he replied, poking you in the side. "Normal human beings have been up for a while."

"That rules you out then," you shot back, and shifted a little closer to him. "Anyway, aren�t you supposed to be in work?"

He shrugged and looked away. "Thought I could do with the time off."

"Because you wanted to spend the day with me?" You looked up at him, unable to hide the smile on your face.

"I wouldn�t go that far," he snorted, and pulled himself up from the bed. "You were the only one available."

"Oh, of course." You raised one eyebrow at him. "I was just convenient." You threw back the covers and got up, stretching.

"Something like that." He pursed his lips, his head tilted as he took in your half-naked state.

"How sweet!" You smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek before heading out of the door. "Put the coffee on while I shower, will you?" you asked over your shoulder.

In the shower, as you began to soap yourself up, you half expected him to come and join you. Hell, you mostly wanted him to. But then again, if he did then you would never leave the house and when your mother arrived home at lunchtime she would find you a mess of limbs wrapped around him in your tiny cramped bed.

You smiled at that and reached up to rinse your hair. You supposed some part of you had expected him to try and jump you at the earliest opportunity. But he was being surprisingly restrained. It was a delicate situation, you knew this, and you didn�t want to make it nay harder by turning it into a week long romp. However much your body was begging for it.

While you knew that your uneasy agreement with him the night before meant that you wouldn�t have to tiptoe around each other all week, you also knew that it wasn�t carte blanche to act like you were an item again.

Because you weren�t.

He didn�t do relationships; you remembered with a slight, knowing smile that you had wrecked any ideas of that. You certainly weren�t about to do long distance relationships at any rate, long, late night calls, hot breath down the line as you brought each other off with words, fly by visits that took too long to come and always finished far too quickly. And the continual ache just under the surface that felt like a repeatedly strained muscle.

You knew that feeling well, and you weren�t about to encourage it.

-*-

III. Brian

You had so badly wanted to do it, to slip down his body under the covers and wrap your lips around his cock. You�d never admit it if anyone asked, but you loved giving him head to wake him up, watching from under hooded lids as he was brought closer and closer to consciousness by the skill of your tongue.

He would open his eyes eventually, and look down, swallowing hard as he saw you nestled between his thighs, and he would whimper slightly as if it was almost too much. He would bury one hand in your hair, guiding you, and lose himself to the careful constriction of your throat as you allowed him to push in deeper.

You watched him leave the bedroom and you went back downstairs, finding the coffee and putting it on to brew. The sounds of the shower could be heard from the kitchen and you leant against the counter, trying to ignore the tightness in your pants as you imagined the water sluicing its way down his back, cascading over his face like a god damn waterfall.

It would be so easy to join him, shedding your clothes like an unwanted skin, stepping up behind him, your palms running down over his soap-covered sides.

Too easy.

Yes, you had given in to the unrelenting desire to be near him, to touch him, to invade his space, but you knew if you actually fucked him then you would never stop.

You thought it was right to put pay to the awkward silences and stilted conversation, the biting words. But you knew it was dangerous ground to give in to the pulsating of your cock.

It had almost been your downfall back at the house, the only thing preventing you from asking him to stay was that he had gotten there first, insisting that he made it clear he was still going back.

You slammed your fist down on the counter, the sharp pain bringing you back to reality. It was stupid really, to think you could be around him and resist the urge to divest him of his pants, but you knew you had to try. For his sake as well as yours.

The shower stopped and you glanced up, pushing yourself away from the counter with a sigh.

If you weren�t going crazy already you had a feeling you would be by the end of the week.

-*-

IV. Justin

You walked into the kitchen, fully dressed, and moved up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Hi," you said, and pressed a kiss against the back of his neck.

He stiffened under your touch, pausing for a moment before disengaging your arms and turning around, holding up a cup.

"Your coffee, Sir," he said with a smile, and practically shoved it into your hands.

You gave him a strange look but brushed it off, taking your cup over to the table and sitting down.

"I thought we could go to the diner for brunch," he said, retrieving his own cup. He sat down opposite you and took a sip.

"Sure," you shrugged. "I�m not doing anything until around three."

He raised one eyebrow over the rim. "What�s going on at three?"

"There�s an art show down at PIFA," you said. "I thought it would be nice to catch it. Check out the competition." You smiled at that.

He studied your face for a few moments and then put down his cup. "I see."

"You can come if you want." You took a large gulp of coffee to try and hide your smile when he visibly brightened. "I�m not sure it will be your thing though."

"Maybe you can instill a little culture, Sunshine," he said. "It�s not like I have anything else to do today."

"So you�re at my disposal?" you asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Until this evening. I have to be at Babylon tonight. We�ve hired a popular drag act and the place is going to be thumping."

"Mhm." You made an uncommitted noise and looked down into your cup. That usually meant one thing, that Brian would be sniffing around for new meat. "It�s my job to make guests feel �welcome�" he used to say.

You looked back up to see him studying you intently, an unreadable expression on his face.

"What?" you cocked your head. "Have I got a coffee moustache?" You wiped subconsciously at your top lip.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Perfect as usual."

He sounded almost wistful and you knew it was time to move. You stood up and drained your cup, sticking it by the sink. "Ready to go then?"

He nodded and looked up. "Always."

-*-

V. Brian

The diner was all but empty when you arrived, the lull between the breakfast crowd and the lunchtime rush. Debb looked over when you entered, her gaze slipping from you to Justin and back again, and she pursed her lips. You hoped she would keep them shut.

Justin slid into the seat opposite you in one of the booths and glanced at the wall. "I can�t believe she�s still got these old things up," he said, and gestured towards his prints.

You followed his gaze and shrugged. "They�re good."

"I�ve done better."

You looked back at him, studying his face. "I imagine Debb is planning on holding onto them until she knows she can sell them for millions. Then she will retire to a Caribbean island where she will be served cocktails on the beach by young gay boys in little shorts."

"Don�t be stupid." You looked up to see Debbie standing by the booth, her order pad in her hand. "I�m never selling those." She reached across and ruffled Justin�s hair. "They are Taylor originals."

Justin blushed at that and you rolled your eyes. You wished everyone would shut up about his art already, and how famous he would be one day.

"So what will it be, boys?" Debb asked. "Besides a slice of humble pie for you." She gave you a pointed look.

"I went up and apologized to him, didn�t I?" you said defensively, gesturing at Justin.

"If you say so," she snorted, and looked back at him. "Sweetie, Michael said if you have time this afternoon can you drop by the store? He�s got a Rage check for you."

Justin nodded. "I guess."

You knew what he was thinking, you could tell by his face. He didn�t want to see Mikey anymore than you did. If his frosty reaction to you both making up last night was anything to go by, you were going to be in for a rough time of it.

Debb utilized her sixth sense. "Oh, don�t worry about Michael," she said. "He�ll get over it. He always does." She snapped her gum with a smile and bustled off to fill your orders.

You looked back at Justin. You doubted it very much. If anything, Mikey was less inclined to accept him than he ever had been. When Sunshine had first left, he had been the one who had picked up the pieces, insisting that you reopen the club and get your life back on track.

So you did, but it had been empty, as if the whole thing was for show more than anything else. Sure, you enjoyed the project, filling your days with builders� quotes, and later plans for opening night, but when it rolled around it left you feeling kind of hollow, as if someone had taken a hole-punch and perforated your soul. Little pieces were missing, and even though you realized how completely lesbionic it sounded, you knew where they had gone.

They had been packed off to New York.

You hated that he had somehow managed to turn you into a walking clich�, but you supposed it didn�t matter anymore. The unused wedding invitations printed on cream coloured card in italic script were a material testament to just how far he had managed to crawl under your skin.

The biggest problem was trying to figure out a way to get him out again.

-*-

VI. Justin

PIFA was packed as you pulled Brian inside, and you picked your way through the milling crowd, occasionally stopping to look at a painting.

Overall, you weren�t particularly impressed. The majority of the paintings were boring, the usual bowl of fruit, and occasional landscape, a half-naked woman baring her back as she looked coyly over her shoulder for the audience.

There was only one painting that caught your attention, and you waited until the people standing around it had thinned out a bit before you stepped up to take a better look.

It was large and bright, painted in primary colors that depicted a small child riding on the back of a rocking horse. The reds of his face bled out into the background, swirling into the carefully applied text of the nursery rhymes that swam about his head.

Next to you, Brian sniffed. You glanced at him and smiled. He�d been on his best behaviour so far, keeping his mouth shut even if it was obvious by his stance that he didn�t particularly care for anything that was on display.

"What do you think?" you asked him, gesturing towards the painting, and he screwed up his face.

"I think it�s morbid. It looks like the kid is dying."

You nodded and looked back at it, taking in the deliberate warping of the traditional style of oil painting. "He is," you said. "But it�s a metaphorical death."

Brian looked at you skeptically.

"He�s leaving his childhood behind," you told him. "At least that�s how it looks to me."

"But all that blood�" he screwed up his face again.

"That�s how it is sometimes," you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the painting. "It�s used as a metaphor here but sometimes it�s real. A blow to the head and suddenly you are horribly aware of your own mortality."

You looked back at him when he took your hand and squeezed it slightly. "I hate it," was all he said.

Before you had a chance to reply, a hand touched your shoulder and you turned around, looking into the face of a young guy, his expression apprehensive.

"Josh Brogan," he said, and stuck out his hand.

You glanced down at it then smiled, shaking it. "Is this your work?"

He nodded and looked at the painting behind you. "Yeah," he replied. "It was almost banned from the show."

You nodded in understanding. "I usually take that to mean it�s a powerful piece."

The boy smiled and peered a bit closer. "You�re Justin Taylor, aren�t you? I recognize your face from �Art Review�."

You blushed a bit. "Yeah. Sure am. I used to attend PIFA."

"I know," he said. "My art teacher never shuts up about it. She tells us that if we apply ourselves properly then we can get where you are."

You snorted. "I�m not exactly big. I�ve just had a couple of shows."

"In New York!" he replied immediately. "You�re where it�s all at. If I stay here in the Pitts I�m never going to amount to anything."

"Not exactly the center of the art world, is it?" you smiled, and looked up, startled, as Brian dropped your hand and disappeared through the crowd. You caught sight of his dark head bobbing towards the exit and you sighed, turning back to the expectant looking boy standing in front of you, gazing at you as if you were his own personal art god.

You reached down and pulled your sketchbook out of your bag, scribbling your number down on a clean sheet before thrusting it into the boy�s hand.

"Call me sometime," you told him, shoving your sketchpad back into your bag. "I know a few people who may be interested in your work."

You shot him a quick smile and rushed towards the exit, hoping you could catch Brian before he reached his car and drove away.

-*-

VII. Brian

You had to get out of there. That type of thing had never been your scene but you had gone simply because Justin had wanted to. When you saw that painting with the bleeding head you knew there would be trouble, but you could handle that. All you had to do was reach across and you could touch him, proving to yourself that he was real.

But then that irritating boy had turned up, reminding you once again that none of this was going to last.

You were proud of Justin, of what he had made of himself, proud that he had enough talent just like you always thought he had, to make an impression, to leave his mark. But at the same time it was just too much to see how happy he had looked when the boy recognized his face. How easy it was to see that he loved it in New York. He was born for that kind of thing.

And that, right there, was the truth of it all. Justin wasn�t made for Pittsburgh. He was so much more than that, and you thought that some part of you had always known it.

Going to Hollywood had confirmed it, and it hadn�t mattered that nothing had come of the movie. Somewhere, somehow, he would have his time to shine, and you were nothing in the face of all that.

It wasn�t like he had cast you aside either, and as you pulled your cigarettes from your pocket and leant against the wall across from where the Corvette was parked, you thought perhaps it would have been easier if he had.

At least it would have been a clean break, a perfect swipe of a knife that would sever you both in two. It would have been hard, of course. No matter how it had happened you would have found it difficult to cope. But this way, it was like a slow torture, the constant picking of a scab, refusing to let it heal. Or the pulling off of a band aid, ripping at the corners with your nails, revealing the wound underneath inch by tiny inch.

You took a long deep drag and looked around at the people in the parking lot who were heading towards the building where the show was housed. They were all young, around Justin�s age, if not a little older, and they all had the same fierce intensity on their faces as if they were determined to be something more than what their upbringing could dictate.

You knew that feeling all too well, that burning heat that had kept you working even when you were running on empty, burning the candle at both ends as you tried to prepare for the next presentation, the next account. Justin was exactly the same, and in a small way it connected you to him, tethering you together through that incessant ambition to get somewhere, to be someone, to make your name known.

It was that same knowledge that told you that you had to let him go in the first place, whether you liked it or not. It was up to him whether he returned.

And he had, refusing to commit either way, leaving you hanging on a suspended string that stretched from New York to Pittsburgh, swinging precariously in the wind as he tried to walk it like a tightrope, intent on being in both places at once.

You knew, even as you tried to ignore it, that it would probably be down to you to cut it in the end. You just hoped that neither of you had to fall.

-*-

VIII. Justin

As you neared the parking lot you spotted him leaning against a small wall, a cigarette lolling out of his mouth.

"Brian�" You approached him warily, almost as if you were afraid he would bolt.

He looked up and smiled. "Had to get out of there. It was a little hot and there were too many artist types for my liking."

You furrowed your brow and stepped closer. "I�m an artist type."

"You don�t count, Sunshine. Anyway, why would I need more than one in my life?"

You let it drop. It was pretty obvious he didn�t want to talk about it, and you weren�t going to force the subject. It would end in an argument and you�d had enough of those to last a lifetime.

"Shall we head over to Mikey�s then?" he asked, tossing his cigarette away.

You balked a little, a visit with Mikey was the last thing on your agenda. You knew he would be angry and that would probably set Brian on edge. But it�s not like you really had all that much choice. He�d find you eventually and it was better to get it over with as soon as possible. If you were lucky he would be too busy with customers to be able to chat for long.

He was in the back when you stepped into the store, and he called to you to go on through. Brian gave you a shrug and moved over to one of the stands, flicking through a comic, oblivious to the wide-eyed stares he was receiving from a couple of teenagers over by the Rage section.

You nodded to Hunter who was slouched behind the counter, and pushed open the connecting door, slipping through to the back. Mikey was busy bagging up some cash and barely glanced up. Shame it didn�t stop him from opening his mouth.

"You got what you wanted then," he said, and banged his bag of change down a little harder than was strictly necessary.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," you said, feigning innocence, and grabbed the envelope that sat next to his elbow, marked with your name. "Thanks for this. I�m in a rush so I�ll just be going."

He straightened up and gave you a glare. "You�re fucking with him," he said bluntly.

"We only did it the once."

His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward, invading your space. "I wasn�t talking about that."

"Look, Michael." You ran a hand through your hair. "What goes on between Brian and I is nobody�s business but our own."

"Bullshit. It�s my business when I�m the one trying to coax him out of the loft after you�ve left."

"He�s fine with it," you told him, unsure whether you were trying to talk him around or yourself. "We had a talk about it and sorted it out. It�s what he wants."

"What he wants he will never ask for because he�s too nice for his own damn good!"

"Right, are we talking about the same Brian?" You leant against the edge of the table. "Because the Brian Kinney I know is quite able to ask for what he wants."

"Not when you�re concerned," Mikey replied. "He�s got this self-destruct button. Only from where I�m standing, you�re going to be the one who will push it for him."

"I have no intention of hurting him," you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time this week. "I wish you would believe that."

Mikey sighed and reached for the doorknob. "That�s the problem," he said. "I don�t think you do. You just have no idea the amount of damage you can do."

"I know my going away must have been hard--"

"Hard?!" he cut you off. "You damn near ruined him! I�m not letting you do it again."

"Then what the fuck do you propose I do, Michael? Go back to how it was at the start of this visit, where we avoided each other? Well guess what? We tried that and it failed."

"I think at the end of this stay you need to just leave and never come back," he said, "If you care about him at all you will stop drawing this out."

"And never come back home? Never visit my mother or my sister?"

"Right. They can go and see you in New York instead. It would do them good to have a little time off."

You snorted and looked away from him. "Is that it? Can I go now or do you want to tell me off for something else? Perhaps stick me in the corner for some time out?"

He gave you another glare. If he had been a superhero you would have been little more than a pile of dust.

-*-

IX. Brian

Hunter raised an eyebrow at you when the shouting started. "Aren�t you going to go in there and rescue him?" he asked.

"Fuck that!" you laughed. "If they want to rip each other apart then they can go right on ahead."

"So much for protecting your boyfriend," he said.

"Justin is not my boyfriend."

Hunter scoffed. "What do you call him then? The husband-that-never-was�?"

"You wouldn�t understand." You wondered briefly whether you could feign enough interest in a Superman comic to make him shut up.

"No, guess not. I�m just a kid, right? Not that much younger than he was when you first started dating him."

"We didn�t date."

"Whatever. Looks like dating, smells like dating. Who cares about the label?"

"My sentiments exactly. Now shoo! Don�t you have homework to do?"

"I�m on a break."

God, you hated kids. What gave you the bright idea to have one of your own? You hoped Gus would never be this annoying.

The door opened and Justin walked out, Mikey close behind him, shooting daggers into the back of his head.

"How are my two favourite boys?" you said, and wrapped an arm around each of them, pulling them close.

Mikey wriggled away and tried to communicate his displeasure through his frown. You shot him a smile back and kissed the side of Justin�s face.

"Going to the club tonight, Mikey?" you asked.

"I am," Hunter piped up.

"You�re too young!" Mikey shot back.

You laughed and patted his shoulder. "Chill out and let the kid live a little. You were sneaking out to clubs at his age."

Mikey grabbed your arm and steered you towards the door, sidestepping Justin as if he was too dirty to contemplate touching. "Don�t encourage him!" he hissed.

You bent down and kissed him on the lips. "You should bring him along, that way you can keep an eye on him." You gave him a little wave and took Justin�s hand and left the store.

Outside Justin stopped, his expression still sour. "Michael wants me to leave you alone."

"What�s new about that?"

He offered you a scowl and dropped your hand, going around the car to stand by the door as he waited for you to unlock it.

You sighed and pressed the button on your key chain then slipped into your seat. It seemed that no matter how you played it, someone was going to disagree with what you were doing. But then, you were used to that, especially when it came to Mikey and Justin. They would never see eye to eye, and as far as Mikey was concerned, however much he could grow to like Justin personally, stick your name into the equation and he would automatically slip into fighting mode.

The worst thing about it was that you knew Mikey was probably right. It was a bad idea to allow Justin to get close again, but what else could you do short of telling him to fuck off?

You had no intention of doing that.

-*-

X. Justin

You were used to Brian refusing to take sides when you and Michael fought, and you never blamed him. The biggest problem was that you didn�t feel there was much you could say back to Michael other than it had nothing to do with him, but even that was starting to look like shaky ground.

You thought over what he said as Brian drove you back to your mother�s house so you could change to go out. It was probably the sensible thing to do, to go back to New York and forget Brian had ever existed. But it wasn�t as simple as that. You were tied to him in ways you couldn�t even begin to try and explain. He was your first for many things; the first man you kissed, the first person to directly give you an orgasm, your first fuck, your first love.

Brian represented everything about the gay man you aspired to be, even if at times he was emotionally distant. He had been the gateway into a brand new world, one that you knew you had belonged to even if you had never seen it, almost as if you had been preparing for it since the day you were born.

It was hard to consider letting go of someone who was such a big part of you, who had encouraged you to grow and fit into your skin.

But you didn�t think Michael would understand that even if you thought of telling him. He would write it off as an over-active imagination belonging to your obsessed teenage self who had made Brian your all.

But it was the unavoidable truth that along the way he had become almost everything. You weren�t dependant on him like you once were, you knew that, but somehow he had weaved himself so tightly into the fabric of your life that no matter where you went he would always be there.

Brian stopped the car and turned to look at you. "You alright?" he asked. "Don�t listen to Mikey. He�s just being his usual concerned, annoying self."

"I know," you replied, and put a hand on the door to get out.

"Sunshine?"

You turned back to look at him.

"You�re not changing your mind are you?"

He sucked in his bottom lip, watching you as he waited for an answer. He looked so delicate and for a moment it scared you.

Michael was right. You had the power to destroy everything, pulling it down around his ears in a way that not even the bombing at Babylon had been able to do.

You felt responsible for him somehow, in a way you�d never noticed before. It was like the tables had been turned and you were the one left holding the cards.

"No." You shook your head. "I haven�t."

He relaxed a little and nodded once. "That�s good," he said. "I don�t think Debb would ever let me eat at the diner again if you did. She�s always thought it my fault when something happened between us."

You smiled slightly and leaned over to give him a kiss. "Don�t worry," you told him. "Your lunchtimes are safe."

-*-

XI. Brian

You dropped Justin off and then drove back to the loft. As the elevator stopped you could see someone waiting outside your door, and you stepped out, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes?"

The guy turned and very obviously checked you out. "We met last week," he said, waiting for you to respond as if you should remember.

You raised your eyebrow a little higher, expecting him to continue.

"I had to leave early that night but you said to drop by sometime." He gave you a come-hither look.

Ah, a trick. You vaguely recalled the guy; his ass seemed familiar. You met him the night Mikey had told you that Justin had booked his flight to come back. You were off your head at the time and you grabbed the nearest guy to distract you, only to be told he was just about to leave.

So, he had come back.

You played with your keys for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons of letting him in. You hadn�t had sex since Saturday night and you were frustrated beyond belief about being around Justin all the time but forcing yourself not to touch him.

"Alright. But make sure you�re quick. I have somewhere to be in just over an hour."

The guy smiled, seemingly delighted that he was being granted any time at all, and followed you into the loft.

"Nice place," he said appreciatively, looking around.

"It does the job." You threw your keys onto the counter and indicated towards the bedroom. "Through there."

You watched him as he climbed the steps and soon after heard his pants hitting the floor. You grabbed a vial from the fridge and took a quick hit. Better to be high for this.

You shook your head, shaking off the burn in your nostrils, and went through towards the bedroom.

He was already naked, which helped, reclining on his back as he studied the painting on the wall. It was one of Justin�s.

"Nice picture," he said, and you snorted.

"You want to lounge around discussing art all day, or do you want to fuck?" You dropped your pants and pulled your shirt over your head, slipping onto the mattress next to him.

"Actually, I thought I would suck you off." He looked up for affirmation and you gave him a nod, rolling onto your back.

His mouth closed around your hardening cock and you shut your eyes. He was adequate, you supposed, and it would do the job.

You let your mind drift as he moved a hand to wrap around your base, using his fingers to help bring you off.

The next sound you were aware of was a knock at the door, and you sighed, lifting your head.

"Keep going," you told the guy, who had paused at the noise. "They should go away if I ignore them."

He gave you a smirk, his lips puffy, and lowered his head again.

"Brian?" The door was shoved open and you heard footsteps enter the loft. "My mother and Molly weren�t home so I was quicker than I thought. Decided it would be better to come here than meet you at Babylon so I got a cab."

Fuck.

You shoved a hand into the guy�s hair, keeping him close as your orgasm built up, vaguely knowing through the fog of pleasure that had descended down around your brain, that it was probably a better idea if you stopped.

"Brian? Are you in the shower?"

The voice was closer and you opened your eyes again in time to catch him coming up the steps. It took a second for it to register on his face and his smile froze before it fell from his lips, shattering on the hardwood floor.

You watched, feeling detached from the entire situation as if you were floating on the ceiling, watching the whole thing from above.

For a split-second you saw a flash of emotion cross his eyes; raw pain, followed by a flicker of anger, and then finally understanding and resignation.

He began to back up, stumbling over his words. "I�m sorry. I�I didn�t realize you had company. I�ll just be leaving."

He spun around and vanished, and you swore under your breath.

The guy increased his suction and you swallowed, letting go of all restraints surrounding your impending orgasm, and came in his mouth.

Almost before you had finished you were shoving him away, and you jumped to your feet, grabbing your jeans from the floor and pulling them up.

You stalked across the loft in a couple of steps and pulled open the door, rushing out.

Justin was standing there, waiting for the elevator, his hands shoved in his pockets. You grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face you, preparing yourself for the expression on his face.

He just smiled.

-*-

XII. Justin

You knew you shouldn�t have gone to the loft. You almost hadn�t. You didn�t even expect him to still be there, but, on the off chance he was, you thought you would drop by. It sure beat standing around outside the club waiting for someone to show.

When you got no answer you tried the door, not really imagining it to open, but pleased when it did. You stepped inside and called out his name, pausing as you waited for an answer.

When none came a slow smile crossed your lips. It meant he was most likely taking a shower. You�d been waiting all day for a moment to catch him like this, with his guard down, ever since he had turned up while you were still in bed.

You crossed the floor with the intention of surprising him, slipping into the shower stall like you used to, and running your mouth down over his slippery back.

It took a moment to realize what was going on in front of you, and you almost laughed, cursing your imagination for coming up with such a scene. But then the man who was pressed up between his legs moved his head, and it broke the spell.

You looked up at Brian�s face, shuttered off from whatever surprise your entrance had brought, his arousal clear in his eyes, and you turned, refusing to look back.

Outside you punched the button for the elevator, tapping one foot impatiently as you heard it shudder into life and begin its ascent.

You weren�t mad, you had no right to be. Perhaps a little disgusted with yourself for reacting the way you had.

He�d given no indication that he wouldn�t trick while you were here, and you assumed that he probably would, but there was something so blatantly challenging about the way he was lying there, his head tilted as if he was asking �so fucking what?� less than thirty minutes after he had dropped you off.

You punched the button again, willing the elevator to hurry up, and you heard the loft door open behind you.

You knew he was there before you had even turned around. You could smell his release.

You closed your eyes for a second, asking your heart to stop clamoring in your chest, and plastered on your best smile before you turned around and faced him.

"I�ve changed my mind," you said.

-*-

XIII. Brian

"What?" You stared at him, disarmed by a smile.

"It�s stupid," he said calmly. "I should have never let you talk me into this in the first place."

You blinked at him and scratched at your bare chest, watching as his eyes were drawn to the movement.

"Sunshine," you said, after a while. "You know tricking is what I do. How can you possibly think this would be any different? Besides, you told me yourself you would be gone at the end of the week."

"Which is why it was a dumb thing to agree to," he said. "We�re just going to fall back into the same pattern."

"There�s nothing wrong with that as long as we don�t kid ourselves."

You watched him intently, interested by the flickering emotions waging war across his face.

"Michael said it was a bad idea and maybe he�s actually right."

"If this is about the trick, he will be gone in a second. It doesn�t change anything."

"I know it doesn�t. I�m not angry about that. I just�" he trailed off as the guy, now thankfully dressed, came out of the loft, staring curiously at Justin before taking off down the stairs.

"Just what?" you looked back at him.

"I just don�t want to feel all of this again." He met your gaze and it felt like you were breaking in two, tiny little splinter cracks running straight across your chest.

"You think you can stop feeling?"

There was no point in trying to convince him of anything, you knew how stubborn he could be once his mind was made up. All you could do was challenge the part of him that wanted this, the part of him that made his eyes flicker back down to your chest, and further still towards the undone button of your pants.

"No," he said, and laughed. "I don�t think I can ever stop."

"You would want to if you could?"

He looked back at the elevator as it came to a stop. You saw the indecision in his eyes and waited, refusing to step in and pull his attention away. He had to choose for himself.

"No," he said, and punched the button to send the elevator back down its shaft. "Honestly, what I want I can�t have, which is why this is so tough and I�m coming across as so indecisive."

"Why can�t you have it?"

"Because�" he shrugged and turned his gaze back to your face. "Because I can�t allow myself to. I have to go back to New York, I have to do my show, and I have to talk to a bunch of people who have no idea about art to convince them to part with their cash."

"Yes, you do." You smiled then. It felt like the hurricane was starting to pass. "But until then?"

"Until then I stop making this more difficult than it already is. Summer romance, right?"

You wanted to tell him no, that there was nothing romantic about it. Romance was about candles and roses, slow music and swaying together in the dark. Romance was about doing everything you could to make him stay.

This wasn�t anything like that. This was a desperate yearning, like a hunger. It was physical but there was a myriad of emotions too. It was about holding on as hard as you could, while all the while knowing the entire vacation was about letting him go.

"Sure," you said, and reached out to take hold of his shoulder, drawing him in.

He pressed himself against you and sighed with relief.

It was fucked up, the whole thing. You were precarious yourself, like a ticking bomb waiting to go off. You knew it would be messy, that there would be destruction and possibly blood, but like he told you at the art show, sometimes reality went that way.

In a strange round-about way it helped you, this being steady for him. It gave you something to think about other than your own fireworks factory of emotions.

You closed your eyes and held him back. You let it be all about him.

-*-

Epilogue.

Some people say that life is easy and that unhappy people create their own drama to fill the void, but Justin vehemently disagrees.

He wouldn�t go so far as to say trouble follows him around like a stray dog begging for a bone, but he thinks he has had his fair share of crisis.

He imagines that one day it will all fall into place and he and Brian will laugh about it, chatting fondly about the time they were younger and less wise, unable to untangle themselves from the spider web they had gotten themselves caught up in.

But until that time, Justin will just learn to get on with it, trying to keep quiet the screaming of his heart that tells him to stay.

Like Brian once said, it is just time after all.
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