Hey :) Again, overwhelmed with the feedback, thank you so much. The computer issues will be sorted out by tomorrow, hopefully. Thanks so much to Sheila for the beta work :) *hugs* ____________________________ Faintest Spark, III It's the next day that Brian comes back. A Saturday and Brian leaves the business attire at home and comes in casual clothes. Either way, Justin still finds him stunningly handsome. Justin is just having lunch, the TV in his room showing a pointless cartoon. He is the 17-year-old boy again and Brian just wants to protect him. “Hey!” Justin exclaims happily around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. He swallows quickly, then gulps down a sip of tea and leans forwards to kiss Brian's cheek. He forgets, forgets, temporarily that he's not entitled to do so anymore. Brian sits back in the chair and leans to the other side, bringing some distance between them because god, it feels so familiar to have Justin close to him. They talk casually for a while and then Justin looks at Brian in a curious way that tells Brian he's in trouble. He smiles and urges Brian to tell him something, about 'them'. As Brian doesn't think it would be appropriate to mention his cancer case or the bashing, the fucking bashing Justin is still oblivious of, he says, “There was a time when I was proud of you.” And he talks about Stockwell, and Justin printing posters and plastering the city with them, about Brian finding out and then them working together – about how Stockwell was defeated by Brian finding the murderer of one Jason Kemp and how in the end, Justin was the only thing Brian had left. “And now you have your own agency.” “I see Kevin told you,” Brian says through gritted teeth. “Oh yeah, he told me all about your rivalry. I'm just not sure how much I should believe him.” Brian snorts at that. “Well, Sunshine, he's your partner. I'd like to think you trust him.” “Great – I've got a jealous partner I don't remember, an ex-partner I'm still in love with and I've lost my memory. Okay, I might have lost my memory, Brian, but I'm not stupid, never was. Not even at seventeen. I scored - “ “Fifteen hundred on your SATs, I know, even though you spent all night fucking.” They break into laughter but Justin sobers pretty soon. “I like him, Brian, I genuinely like him but at the moment I just don't know what to make out of all of this.” Silence occurs. It's not complete silence because the TV is still set to that ridiculous cartoon station and the cutlery Justin eats his lunch with scratches over the plate. Time ticks away and soon it's almost four. Jennifer comes in for her daily visit with Molly. Brian thinks he should be leaving but Jennifer asks him to stay. They all go downstairs to the cafeteria for a coffee. The idea is revolting to Brian but he tags along because Justin laughs and smiles and seems content with the situation. The coffee is worse than the diner but it's less crowded down there and he's not presented with the horrifying picture of Justin in a hospital bed anymore. “The doctor said they'd release me by Wednesday. I need to attend a couple of check-ups in the following weeks but they said I could be transferred to my doctor in New York.” Jennifer rests her cup of coffee on the table and looks at her son for a long moment. “Are you sure that -” “I don't know,” Justin says, “I don't fucking know. My life is in New York, or so everyone tells me, and I should get back to it very soon. But I wonder what's there that I could possibly do or miss out on. And - “ “Your agent rented you an apartment for the duration of your show. You have a place to stay here. But you can stay with Molly and me of you're more comfortable with that.” Justin nods. “He, Kevin, told me why I came here and about our – about New York.” He sighs. “I think he wants me to go with him. He said he had business to attend.” Jennifer smiles sympathetically. “Take your time, honey. I guess this is not easy on you.” Justin shrugs. Brian watches the scene unfold before him, watches how Jennifer tries not to be the mother hen and Justin tries not to let on his uncertainty about Kevin. He can hardly imagine how Justin must feel. Brian spends almost the entire afternoon with the Taylor bunch before he excuses himself and leaves to find a trick to fuck – to suffocate the craving inside. ................... By Wednesday night Justin is seated at the dining table of an apartment he just moved into the other week but doesn't remember at all. Kevin set the table in clean, but classic style while, a single candle burning in the middle of it all. “Because this is how we dine at home,” Kevin explains. “Do you want wine? Or will that interfere with your medication?” Kevin asks from the kitchen. Justin rolls his eyes and cringes at the thought of wine because – But then he remembers that he is twenty-four and not seventeen anymore and wine is probably what he drinks with his meals. “I'll be fine,” Justin says. There's fried fish, a delicious sauce and freshly cooked vegetables on the side of his plate. It tastes divine, so much better than the hospital food. And he tells Kevin so, giving him as much appreciation as he can muster up. Kevin is trying hard to leave Justin room to himself. He's not henpecking him because he knows Justin would resent him for that. Still, he's there when Justin needs help. Everyone has been to visit Justin at the apartment during the day but Kevin made it perfectly clear that the night would be for them. And Justin doesn't know what it means. He feels like there is nothing much he can talk about with Kevin, especially as Kevin won't let on why Justin left Brian and chose Kevin over him. “It's for him to tell you,” Kevin tells him and sips his wine. Justin still feels drawn to Brian. His visits at the hospital were the highlights of that long stay but Justin knows he has to stick with Kevin because once he remembers; he'll be back with him anyway. “When will you be leaving for New York?” Justin asks, trying to make conversation. It's probably not what Kevin wants to talk about because his answer is rather short. “Friday night. I'll be back on Tuesday.” Justin nods and looks at his plate. “Do you want anything from there? Art supplies, clothes, books?” Kevin adds, as if in an afterthought. Justin lets out a sigh. “I don't know. I don't remember living there in the first place. How am I supposed to know what I might need?” he says it calmly, as not to upset Kevin, or himself, but it sounds strained and a little annoyed. Kevin puts down his cutlery and reaches out his hand for Justin's. “Sorry, I wasn't thinking. But maybe you want the photos? You've got a good couple of albums, maybe you'd like to have them here, see if they help?” The gentle touch of Kevin's hand is soothing but nothing Justin missed. He wonders if Brian and he ever had nights like this; together, staying in, talking. Justin remembers one night, when he cooked for them. It's not long ago to him in his memory but ages ago in reality. He was anxious for Brian to taste it and then Brian came home with a trick. “Look, I'm probably asking for a lot but can you do me a favor?” Justin nods. “While I'm away, can you not meet up with Brian? I know you feel close to him but – I'd feel better if you kept away from him.” Silence. Then laughter bubbles from Justin's throat. He grins and shakes his head. “You can't be serious. He's one of the people to fill me in on my past. I need to see him.” “Justin, I have this strange feeling about him. That he's going to take advantage of your crush on him. I can't lose you.” Justin nods, but doesn't reply. ................... Saturday night fills Justin with boredom. He sits in the unfamiliar living room, sketching. Sketching Brian's face, Brian's hand, lean chest and shoulders the way he remembers them to be. Brian is his muse – and Justin can't ever see that changing. But maybe in the future, in his current past & present, Kevin takes that position. His sketchpads are a faint hint at that. Coal rushes over white appear easily, tracing lines and muscles of Brian's complexion, conserving him on paper. He almost doesn't hear the knock on the door. And when he opens it, Justin is surprised because the Brian he knows doesn't come looking for him, is not concerned about him. But the new Brian, the 36-year-old Brian of today leans in the doorway, leather jacket slung over his shoulder and cigarette between his lips. “Brian -” Justin tries to say. “I'm only the delivery service for Debbie's homemade food. Apparently, she thinks someone has to look after you while the stunner is away.” That sounds more like Brian. Justin steps aside, without thinking twice breaking a promise he never made. Brian goes and puts the pot into the kitchen, taking a tour through the apartment on his way. “Did you have dinner already?” Justin asks while getting out a plate. He's thankful for company and food – he'd been too lazy to whip something up for himself. “No,” Brian answers and doesn't protest when Justin takes out a second plate and starts dividing up the casserole. Fuck him, he thinks, he doesn't know why it's suddenly so easy to be around Justin again, maybe because one side of this relationship doesn't remember the heart-breaking, the bitter words being spoken and how Brian 'did what he had to do'. “Do you want to eat at the table or in the living room?” Justin asks. Brian takes the lead back to the living room and sprawls out on one of the sofas. It answers Justin's question. They eat in comfortable silence, then smoke and then sit and stare at each other. There's no music playing, nor is the TV on. There's just silence and it's still comfortable and not the least bit awkward. Brian glances back and forth between the darkened studio space and Justin before he asks, “Are you working on something?” Justin shrugs. “Apparently, I was working on a larger piece for the show but I haven't felt like painting. I did some sketches though but…” he trails off and rubs the palm of his hand. “Does it hurt?” Justin's eyes widen in shock and he almost doesn't dare to nod. “I – I didn't ask anyone. I thought I'd landed badly on it when I fell. But sometimes my hand cramps up...” “It happened shortly after the last weeks you remember, on the night of your prom.” Brian says, “You asked me to come, I said no but showed up anyway.” “You came to my prom?” “Amazing, isn't it?” Sarcasm drips from Brian's words and he gets up to pace the floor. Jennifer and him had agreed not to tell Justin yet – but fuck, isn't now as good as any time? “Chris Hobbs – he'd been torturing you all year – took a bat to your head in the parking lot.” A silent 'oh' forms on Justin's lips. “You were in a coma, and then needed physical therapy to get your hand back to work again.” “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Justin curses, his mood suddenly switching to being angry. “Yeah,” Brian agrees. Justin runs his hands through his hair. “Fucking Chris Hobbs!” His anger ebbs away when Brian lights another cigarette and Justin reaches for it to take a long drag. “You'd just quit last time I talked to you.” They laugh but Justin looks at him seriously again. “Were you there?” Brian freezes, his body going tense as he stops pacing. “I – I was the only one there. I…” he has forgotten how hard it is to talk about it. “Did you see it?” Justin asks further. “We'd just said goodbye. I was in the jeep, watching you walk back to the party but – he was quicker. He got to you faster than I could warn you.” Justin wonders if Brian ever told him that much and if he ever cried because he is sure crying now, his back turned on Justin. Justin calls out for him once and waits. Brian seems to take an eternity to turn around and looks at Justin with blood-shot eyes and tousled hair. Even now Brian looks beautiful. “I'm here,” Justin says, “It's okay.” One had reaches out to touch Brian's shoulder, the other wraps around Brian's waist instinctively. Justin knows he's crossing boundaries he shouldn't even think about but to be close to Brian feels right and safe and familiar. Both seek comfort and as Brian lets his body melt into Justin's, they sigh, relieved, content. Justin settles them onto the couch, his head resting on Brian's shoulder, his hand holding onto Brian's shirt. They sit but don't talk. There is so much for them to digest. Brian carries the burden of the prom alone now and it feels twice as heavy. Justin has so many more questions now but asking them just yet doesn't seem right. Their talk seemed to be hard on Brian and Justin assumes there'll be much more time later. It's far after midnight when the telephone rings and startles them both. Justin contemplates letting it roll to voice mail but too many questions will ensue and he doesn't want to worry the caller, whoever it is. Justin disentangles himself from Brian, who is beyond sleepy, and then reaches over. Kevin seems fairly tired too and Justin guesses he's in bed already because he can hear the rustling of the sheets. They have nothing to say to each other, or maybe Justin simply ignores Kevin's attempts at making conversation. Justin just wants to curl around Brian again, revel in his presence and he wants nothing more than for Kevin to disappear into thin air. But of course, he doesn't tell his partner because he might suddenly remember and then - Justin still doesn't understand how he could have ever left Brian. “You sound awfully tired, Kevin. You should probably go to bed,” Justin murmurs and hopes he doesn't sound like he's trying to get rid off Kevin. “You're right. Goodnight, Justin. I just want you to know that I love you, okay?” Brian has heard the entire conversation, even in his sleepy daze. He holds his breath and waits for Justin's reply to Kevin's declaration of love. But Justin doesn't say anything at all.