He had never been one to be so completely and utterly jealous of someone else. All his life John Bonheim had not been left wanting, at least not physically. He went to the best schools, had the best money could buy, had everything that he had ever wanted thanks to his uncle, in large thanks to his uncle. John couldn’t remember his father and hardly knew anything about the man. Not so many years after his father died, his mother had committed suicide. His mother, in her own condemnation, had never talked about his father or any other relative in the Bonheim family except for his uncle, who had towered over them all. He really couldn’t remember his mother either, only small glimpses and peeks of the woman she was. He didn’t think she had been like that while his father was alive. Maybe they had been happy, John liked to think that. After his father died, his mother wasn’t prepared to deal with his existence without his father. She had let his uncle take over his upbringing and his uncle had let the nanny’s take care of him. Slowly his uncle had become his only family, had become everything that John had needed in this world…until he had met the young blond man, who was currently thrashing around in their bed, moaning someone else’s name. This was the third time that week and for how many weeks it was that this had been happening John couldn’t remember. John had not been troubled by it the first time Justin had slipped further under the covers, gave a whimper and whispered the hated name. It sincerely hadn’t bothered him. He could understand Justin dreaming about someone that he had cared about; hell it was just a dream, they all had them. He told himself that for a while, his anger increasing all the more when the blond did it again. During the days his eyes would narrow at the blond, and during the long nights his agitation of the matter brewed underneath the surface. Justin either was a very good actor or he honestly didn’t know he was doing it. It was ridiculous to blame Justin for his subconscious thoughts however that they may escape during the middle of the night. He carried his anger around with him, clawing and twisting at his insides until he lost all control. Justin, naturally, had been the brunt of his anger, as anticipated as it was to the boy. John couldn’t remember what the fight had been about, something stupid, something trivial. It didn’t matter; the subject of his husband moaning his ghost lover’s name eventually came up. Justin had been shocked to find out and turned a nice shade of red that John thought was quite becoming on him. But, the blush had angered John even further, the thought that Justin knew he did something wrong, and that he had been caught doing it fueling the fire that was already dangerously out of control. John had struck him, soundly, as if on instinct, as if this was the natural course of things. Justin had hit him back. John could never understand why it was his first impulse to be physical with Justin; he had never really been that way with anyone else. He just couldn’t stop himself with the blond. From the first moment that he had set eyes on the boy he knew that he had wanted him, in every way, shape and form. Justin would deny him nothing and he would willingly give it to John. That was just supposed to be the way things were going to be. To John’s utter shock, it didn’t happen that way. Justin’s earlier compliancy hadn’t lasted and now it was one fight after the other, Justin’s naturally defiant personality showing through at long last. It was almost like he enjoyed the consequence of John’s violence, of both of their violence. Resigned, John had tried to let the whole thing go, all the while dreading to let Justin or he sleep for the night, dreading having to hear that name over and over again. Justin sighed again, pushing closer to John. He looked down at the blond and his eyes narrowed in the darkened room. All the while that John had known him Justin had never been much for touching and John had longed to hold him many, many times. Especially at night when sometimes it felt like a sea was dividing them. And now here Justin was, cuddling closer to the ghost that was haunting their bed. John sighed and ran a hand over his face, trying to pull all the tension that was there out with the movement. He quietly reached over to Justin’s bedside table and grabbed the cigarettes the boy had in the first drawer. The time to help illness waiting to spread in his lungs was no better than now. He inhaled deeply, holding in the smoke for a second longer than normal. It felt so calming to have the tendrils of something poisonous and toxic trace through his body infecting and destroying. There had been a lot of cigarettes lately. The air around Justin and John was hazy and John welcomed the opportunity to see his lover through something opaque. He feared that he wouldn’t like the transparent version. Before he realized it, the cigarette had burned down to its last leg, the heat just touching the tips of his fingers. He got up out of the bed and crossed to the bathroom. Justin looked up, woken by the movement John was making as he get out of bed. He looked up, groggy with the slumber that had invaded his bones so thoroughly. John was standing there, putting out one of his cigarettes in his ashtray. “Whas going on?” His voice was scratchy in the wee hours of the morning. He sat up more fully on the pillows and ran a hand over his face trying to force the last of sleep out of his system. He had been having the same dream for some time now. Soft touches and heated glares, a contradiction that surrounded his life, or maybe it was the other way around. He hadn’t known or cared during those moments. He had been in a sea of safety, had been warm and loved and everything that he had always been supposed to be. Of course he knew he had been dreaming, his life was far, far away from this splendid apparition. It seemed that the only place he felt comfortable anymore was when he was asleep, so Justin hung onto his dreams as much as he could. In the dream he could smell, hear, and taste everything so clearly. He’d been transported back to the past and he loved it there. A strong hand cupped his cheek and had brought his face closer to a wanting mouth. His lips had parted on instinct and a velvet tongue slid in to play with his. He had wanted to weep, had wanted to beg, had wanted to feel everything there was to feel while he was in his haven. The arms of a ghost had wrapped around him and held him down, and the when the weight finally settled on him, he felt safe. There was only one person that could evoke these kinds of feelings in him, and his own hand ripped that one person away from him. “You were doing it again.” Justin didn’t need to ask what he had been doing. He knew and as much as he knew that it was dangerous to be having these kinds of dreams he couldn’t even force himself to want to stop them. There was nothing to say, nothing to help ease the uncomfortable silence that had settled around them. “John…it’s not like I mean to.” Justin whispered in the dark apartment. There was a sliver of light slipping through the room, bathing nothing and masking everything. He kept his eyes away from John, away from those piercing eyes that were watching his every movement. “But, you still do.” Justin heard John’s heavy sigh and watched the sliver of light grow larger when John opened the bathroom door. John had never hated a bathroom as much as he hated his own. Even though everything had been washed and scrubbed a million times over they couldn’t erase the history from this place. Justin’s wrists had healed but the memories that they both had with the act hadn’t vanished as easily. John ran a hand over the cool tile of his counter trying not to think about his lover. Their home had become a war zone and John had no idea how it had started. He didn’t like it though, not at all. He looked up at the mirror and his eyes went to the small black and white photo taped to the upper right hand corner. He couldn’t remember what street they were on, but some man jumped in front of them and snapped the Polaroid, charging them more than what it would ever be worth. John stopped the thought and doubted if that was really the case. There they were, immortally happy in that small picture and John longed for the time they had stolen from them back. He ran a finger over the curve of the small Justin’s cheek and smiled wistfully, if it were only that easy. His eyes left the photo and caught his own face. His eyes were hanging heavily, longing for more than four hours of sleep a night. He couldn’t help that. It was impossible to sleep in that bed with so many ghosts hanging over it. Not for the first time had he wondered where Justin’s subconscious whispers had come from and not for the first time had he wondered about the fidelity of his partner. Things had changed after Justin had come back from his meeting with Kinney and now he was calling out the man’s name in their bed. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together but John wondered if he would be happier not knowing. After all, he himself hadn’t actually been faithful to Justin, as much as he rationalized it in his head. He didn’t want their marriage to be tainted by scores, it was tainted enough without that. He silently wondered if they would ever work all this out. He heard Justin’s feet pad to the bathroom adjoined to the bedroom. He turned his back to the mirror; the sight of himself was just something that John couldn’t bear right now. He leaned back against the solid surface of his counter and crossed his arms, looking expectantly at Justin. The blond leaned across the frame of the door, his pose mocking the other mans. “It was just a dream, John.” Justin said quietly, not wanting to make this a bigger issue than what it already was. He couldn’t help that Brian’s name slipped from time to time, his subconscious was brutally fighting against him, it knew where it wanted to be. “I know that Justin. I can understand that. But, it’s been going on for too long now. Too long.” John voice rose at the end of the sentence, and Justin had to fight not to roll his eyes at the man. “I can’t fucking help it John. Don’t queen out over something so miniscule as a fucking dream.” Justin pushed away from the frame and returned to the bedroom. It was too early in the morning to be having this discussion, or was it too late at night. Justin didn’t know, he just wanted to sink back into the warmth of the bed again. John had been horrible to live with since this new problem arose; it was like walking on eggshells everyday. Justin was becoming quickly weary of it. “You are calling his name out Justin! Not just calling – fucking crying for him.” John followed him, and when Justin looked back at him his face and voice betrayed every emotion that the blond was making him feel. “This is ridiculous.” Justin started to walk out of the bedroom until John’s angry voice slowed him. “Don’t walk away from me!” He rushed after Justin. He latched onto his elbow, throwing the boy around to face him, gray eyes darting between arctic blues. “Did you fuck him?” “…No.” There was too much time between the question and the answer and Justin crushed the urge to wince. John looked at his eyes again and before he knew what was happening his hand came up, deftly slapping Justin across the face. Justin’s head slung to the side, and his own hand automatically came up to cup his injured cheek. “You’re a goddamn liar!” He yelled, pointing a finger at Justin, the hurt and resentment showing clearly on his face. Justin looked up, hand still cradling his face, and with John’s statement he decided that he really didn’t care. “I’m not having this conversation with you, it’s fucking juvenile.” Justin tried to turn around but the hand that John had placed on him before was unmovable stopping any action that Justin might make. “Fuck you, Justin. Just tell me the goddamn truth.” John pleaded, leaning closer to the younger man. Please, just please don’t lie to me, John whispered fervently in his head. John knew he wouldn’t be able to hear it, to accept it. Please, Justin, please. “…No, I didn’t fuck him.” “You’re lying to me.” John said, angrily. His hand itched to strike the blond again, but he took a step back putting distance between them. “You’ve already got it figured out in your head what you want to hear, so what does it matter what I actually say anyway?” The blond said angrily, making up the distance between them. If John really wanted a fight he was going to get one, get all this out in the open right now. “Because you can’t admit to it.” They were standing toe to toe, neither wanting to back down. John could tell there was something heavily guarded in those blue orbs, something that could change everything if Justin let it out. “Nothing happened. Get over it.” Justin spit out the last few words, showing his dissatisfaction of the subject for the last time. “I’m not going to get over it, you are fucking calling for him – all the fucking time, I can’t even sleep in the bed with you anymore.” “I don’t know what you want me to do about that John. It happens. Okay? I’m sorry, okay? But, you’ve got to let go of some of these issues with Brian.” Justin tentatively brought his left hand up to place it directly above John’s rapidly beating heart. John’s anger was too deep to be affected by the simple gesture. As much as he had craved this contact from Justin it just made his irritation penetrate more deeply. “I can’t fucking let it go when you keep bringing him up – subconsciously or not.” John glared down at the younger man, and Justin shook his head, stepping back. “Fuck this.” The statement surprised John and while he stood there dumbfounded by the blond’s reaction, Justin moved deeper into the bedroom, getting clothes out of the closet. It suddenly flashed in John’s mind that he was leaving, he was getting ready to go out of the apartment, that he wasn’t going to be taking John anywhere with him. “Where the fuck are you going?” Justin looked back, his eyes narrowed and then he presented John his back. “Away from you.” He said quietly, bending down to slip on his shoes. He stood up and grabbed the pack of cigarettes that where now on John’s side of the bed. He gave John one last look before walking by him. “No.” Justin was surprised when John’s arm latched onto his, spinning him around to face the older man. Justin’s facial expression let John know how much he appreciated it. “Let me the fuck go, John. If you want to find me – after you get over this little trip of yours – I’ll be at Deb’s. I’m sure you know where it’s at.” Justin glared at John for a moment longer. “Or I’m sure one of your little lackeys can follow me. It’s up to you.” John’s eyes narrowed at the blond, before pushing him away. “Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want.” Justin grabbed his coat quickly, threw one final glance at a fuming John standing near the bedroom door and left the apartment. When Justin was walking out onto the darkened streets of a quiet Pittsburgh wishing he had called a cab in the lobby, John was searching for Brian Kinney’s phone number.