Chapter 3 – Alea iacta est ~o~ A week later, New York City ~o~ Justin “Hi, Brian.” “How are you, Sunshine?” Those are the first words I cross with Brian Kinney after two fucking years. Greeting each other like polite acquaintances. Of course, I don’t actually know if we look like polite acquaintances, because my heart is racing and my hands are shaking and I’m pretty damn sure I’m a second away from fainting. And I’m sure people are watching, and there’s a thought in the back of my head that this won’t be too good for my relationship with Charlie - or at least there should be that thought, but my brain isn’t working too well. It rarely does when Brian is near. And he is near. There is nothing in the universe except the man in front of me. Brian. Brian is here. *Here*. In my fucking art show in New York. Standing in front of me. Holy shit. ‘One night to be confused One night to speed up truth’ I think Brian notices I have trouble breathing because he moves just a little closer, hazel eyes concerned, warm. He puts his hand on my shoulder. Asks if I’m okay, voice soft. I’m sure he thinks he’s helping, but the nearness of him is fucking killing me. His smell - ah, his smell -mhis favorite cologne, and a little bit of cigarette smoke, and something else, entirely his. Not to mention the fucking sparks that hand is sending down my body. So much for becoming the independent, hardy artist. A single touch from Brian can still reduce me to an incoherent seventeen-year old. ‘Because you are everywhere I look and in my skin. I taste your neck and lips just from breathing in.’ I should have known. There were clues, little hints. But it was too good to be true, and if I even entertained the notion and he didn’t show up, the disappointment might have been more than I could bear. So I refused to even consider the idea. Even after my mom, Lindsay and Debbie all showed up. And then Emmet and Ted. Even Michael, Ben and Hunter. The whole gang was here - almost. And I didn’t ask how they got the money to come, or where they were staying… because I could somehow sense the hand of the master over everything. Only one man could manage to make this happen, bring Pittsburgh to me on the most important night of my life. But I refused to think of him. I couldn’t. Wouldn’t allow myself to. And then, he shows up. Just when I’d let my guard down, the opening was halfway over, things were going smoothly, my work was selling - just then, there’s a hush in the crowd. And I feel him, first. So I turn around and see the most fucking beautiful man I’ve ever seen, or ever will see. Brian Kinney, donned up in Armani, walking towards me. And I don’t know if only seconds go by or it’s hours, but I can see so many things just by looking at him. He’s softer, somehow. He’s still sleek and gorgeous, he owns the room and he knows it. But there’s something more open, now. And when he comes to stand in front of me, and I look up into his hazel eyes - he lets me see him. *See* him. No walls. It’s like looking down into a deep lake… or a stormy ocean… or an endless canyon. Mystery and darkness and wildness… but above all, beauty. A heady experience. And out of all the things I want to say - fuck you, I love you, fuck me, make love to me, leave, stay - the only thing that comes out is… “Hi, Brian.” “How are you, Sunshine?” * Charlie The moment I hear Justin’s voice, I know it’s over. It’s the confirmation of an end - an end of something that never really began. ‘And as you breathe the words I better go. The sun is up and taking back all the shadows that covered this ground’ And I tried so hard, so hard, to make something of us. To conquer him, to make him love me. I tried even when I knew it was hopeless, even after he warned me, countless times, that he didn’t know if he could love again. But I was insistent, and I kept chasing him, showing up where he was, until he stopped warning me, until he gave in. I thought I’d broken through… but I realize now he’d just gotten tired of constantly chasing me away. You see… when I first saw him, I thought I was fucking dreaming. I know it sounds impossibly corny, which is why I’ve never actually said this aloud, but it’s true. You see Justin Taylor when he’s laughing and try and tell me he doesn’t look - well, he just steals your breath. It’s his eyes and his hair and his body… but shit, that smile. It was the death of me. And that one smile was enough for me to fall. And it was just the one. I didn’t know then what a rare occurrence it was. Because Justin was usually serious, snarking, absorbed or just - absent. I could always tell when he was gone, because his eyes were not looking at me, or at the person in front of us, or at anything in New York City… they were looking at someone who wasn’t there, seeing things long gone. You probably think I’m an idiot for sticking around as long as I did, for being so damn stubborn. And I am an idiot. But… you would be too, for him. For his talent, his intelligence, his wit and beauty. But most of all, for the possibility of making him smile again, like you saw him do that first night. To make him smile for you. So I stayed and waited, even when he wasn’t really with me. I waited, hoping the sheer force of time would do what I couldn’t, would make him forget whatever it was he saw with those absent blue eyes. And that’s what I was doing that night, walking around on his first solo show. Waiting. He was looking somewhat happier than usual - if not smiling then at least not scowling. I knew it had more to do with all the people that had come from Pittsburgh than the actual success of his show. He introduced me to them, almost as an afterthought, and I was glad when a friend of mine showed up… it was unnerving, being under the examination of the Pitts contingent. I was actually standing near Justin, with a perfect view of the door, when *he* came in. A hush fell over the people milling around the gallery, and I could see why. A man had come in, a man who looked like a fucking Greek god. Wearing a beautifully tailored suit, hair styled to perfection… walking like he owned the room. And as if he could sense him, Justin turned around. ‘Some old fires were burning’ I’d never, ever seen that look on his face before. Certainly never directed at me. I wildly hoped they were casual acquaintances, but the way they were looking at each other - it was like they were devouring each other with their eyes. Justin looked at the man as if he was the answer to all his questions, as if he was the love of his life. And then I heard him, heard his voice… a simple greeting that sounded like a prayer and a curse and ‘I love you’ and ‘I need you’, all wrapped in one - and I knew it was over. “Hi, Brian.” “How are you, Sunshine?” * Brian We say simple greetings, and I know just by the look on his face and tone of his voice that Justin is still mine. I know coming here tonight was the right thing to do. He’s looking like he can’t breath, and I’m a bit worried… can’t have the kid fainting in his first big show. So I steady him with my hand, and fuck if that little touch isn’t enough for me to feel light-headed. He looks up at me, his eyes asking questions I can’t answer, not aloud. So I look back at him, and let him see me. All of me. He’s surprised and intrigued, and I know he can still read me well. But I also know the mere fact that I’m letting him see is making him wonder. Good. Let him wonder. ‘you couldn’t quite discern me.’ I’m sure the whole Pittsburgh lot are looking at our every move, but only a few understand why I’m doing this. You should have seen the look on their faces when I told them I’d gotten them all plane tickets and hotel reservations… it was the first time Deb’s house was in total silence. And then, utter pandemonium. Honestly, it was like they hadn’t ever traveled before. I shut them up by saying that all of them had to be there for Justin’s show, because it was fucking important, and that the only thing I did celebrate was achievement. So they better enjoy the trip, ‘cause they weren’t getting anything for Christmas. Well… Gus will. But nobody else. Of course, minutes after my announcement, Emmet pranced to the seat next to me and started badgering me about being a closet romantic. And Ted just looked at me… damn those two… I know they were dying to know what I was planning, so they figured they could bug me until I told them. Still, they shut up when I asked them to. Or rather, after I warned them I was going to take their tickets back. It may seem like flying the whole gang to New York was like the extravagant gesture I swore I wouldn’t do, but it really wasn’t. I wasn’t lying when I said this was to celebrate achievement. Because, regardless of what happened or may happen between Justin and I, I will always be proud of him, of every single thing he’s accomplished and will accomplish, whether it be walking down a street without freaking out or having a solo art show in New York City. And I knew that he would appreciate his family there, his whole family. The fact that this fitted in just fine with my plan was a bonus. I wasn’t going to sweep him off his feet, to present him with red roses and promises of undying love. I was there to let him see me. And if he actually saw me, if he could discern the changes… then there was a real possibility of something. It was a test. It was casting the dice, putting the ball in his court. ‘Gonna win you over, slow like honey, Heavy with mood.’ So here I am. Standing in front of Justin Taylor after two years. He’s seen me. The rest is up to him. The die is cast. * TBC Author’s note: title is what Julius Caesar said after crossing the Rubicon, ‘The die is cast.’ Songs quoted are, in order: Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez, December by Lydia, It’s in Your Blood by Lydia and Slow Like Honey by Fiona Apple. Thank you SO much for the feedback! :) Let me know what you think.