Brian "Well, it's about time that you make some money with your art." Justin chuckles, seeing right through me. "Now get to the abomination, Taylor, and come home. Mikey's here, trying to find out what we've got in store for him." I wink at my best friend, and he's just shaking his head. "And of course he has this great idea for the next issue of Rage..." My little blond twink laughs, and tells me that he just has to say goodbye to Linz and Sidney, and then he'll be on his way. I smirk as I put the phone back on the counter. "They want him to have a show of his own next year..." Mikey is staring at me as if I'd lost my mind. Well, it's really a little out of character for me to almost bounce around the loft, but fuck that. I'm so happy, and so fucking proud of Justin. His very own show! And he's not even twenty yet. Though age has little to do with success, I know that from personal experience. "Um, should I call Kathleen? I think you might be needing her help." Yeah, as if she'd still take me on as her patient. She's witnessed just how cracked I am on more than one occasion – just like dearest Eamon, who still irritates the hell out of me whenever we meet. And Justin loves it, the little shit. Anyway, I shake my head at Mikey, and tell him everything my Sunshine just explained to me about the show and stuff. He beams, "That's great, Brian. His art is really amazing and it's time he got the recognition he deserves." And then it's Michael Novotny, the businessman, "You don't think he could use that show of his to promote Rage a little, do you?" I chuckle and shrug, "Why don't you ask him yourself? He'll be here any moment now. So..." I reach for some home delivery menus, "what should we order? I know Justin would demand pizza if he were here, but I had more than my share of that – and I'm talking about this month only." And the month is still young... The things the little twat makes me do. "So, since he's not here yet..." I drop the Italian menu. "Your choice, Mikey. Thai or Indian?" Once again, Mikey proves that he's my best friend cause he chooses Thai. I place our orders, and begin to wonder where Justin is. "If he stopped at the diner, I'm going to kill him." Because even after all that junk food, he'll still wolf down the Thai – without gaining any weight. Ten minutes later, our food gets here, and still no sign of Justin. Okay, he went to the fucking diner. What's he thinking, huh? That I would let him starve? I grab the phone to call him on his cell, but all I get is his mailbox. Well, at least he's driving safely. "Sunshine, get your bubble butt in gear and come home, now. Our fucking dinner's getting cold." Mikey snickers, and I can't help but smirk. Well, what did he expect? That I'm all nice and loving to my wifey after ... things? I don't think that would suit me. I might love the little fucker – okay, I do love him – but that doesn't mean I can't snark at him, does it? We sit down on the sofa, and start eating – or rather, Mikey eats, and I only pick at my food. I really wish Justin would get home. When there's still no sign of Justin half an hour later, I'm slowly beginning to panic. Mikey calls the diner while I try Justin's cell again – nada. Fuck. I punch Linz' quick dial, and Mel answers with her usual, "Do you know what time it is, you asshole?" Isn't she charming? But I'm not in the mood for our usual banter. "Mel, I need to speak with Linz – now!" She seems to pick up some vibes, realising that this isn't a normal call. And a moment later, Linz is on the phone. "Lindsay, have you any idea where Justin is?" Mikey just hung up on the Allegheny – he's not there, and that's good news, really good news – and is now calling the police. And Linz... She just tells me that she last saw Justin about an hour ago, and that he was on his way home. Fuck! Tell me something I don't know yet. An hour! A fucking hour, and the gallery is only fifteen minutes from here. I'm not going to start panicking here, I'm not. Linz tells me not to worry, and that they are coming over. Now that's comforting. As I end my call, Mikey switches off the phone, and drops it on the counter. "Nothing. No accident, no attack – nothing." Okay, this is just a nightmare, born of my fear of losing Justin. Yes, that's it. The shit with Ian and the fucking trial are still on my mind, that's all. Justin's here, lying right by my side, and he'll wake me up any time now... Where the fuck are you?! "I'm calling Carl now – ask him to come over. And Ben..." Whatever you say, Mikey. I drop down on the sofa again and reach for the sweater that's still lying crumbled in a corner – we were in a hurry to get undressed when we got back from the diner this morning... After the little shit had demanded a real breakfast. I think we have to go shopping again, and did I mention that I hate supermarkets? But we can scare some breeders by making out... I draw the sweater closer – it smells of greasy food, arousal, and him. Gods, Justin. Just come home, okay? Please! Mikey sits down next to me, embracing me. "He'll be here, soon. He probably..." What, Mikey? What?! Twenty minutes later, Carl Horvath and the Munchers arrive – and a delivery guy. He's got a small parcel for me, and when I open it, I feel as if the ground beneath my feet opened up and I'm falling... There, inside that innocent-looking box, is the cowry-shell bracelet – and my heart almost stops because I know that he would never take it off willingly. It means too much to him... And then I see the note. I know that fucking handwriting from that stupid CD... It's the fiddler. This is everything you'll ever get of him. I'm shaking, and my vision is kind of blurry. No! Holy fucking shit. Just – no! This isn't happening. Justin, wake me up! But he doesn't. He can't, because this is no dream. Linz comes up behind me – and gasps. "Oh God, Brian." She's hugging me, but I don't feel anything. Except for that pain in my chest. I stumble back to the sofa, the bracelet in my right hand. I hear our friends murmur, but I don't listen. All I know is that Justin – my Sunshine – is in the hands of the fiddle fuck. I want him back, want him with me, now! Someone – I think it's Mikey – hands me a glass of Beam, but I'm not feeling any better after I drink down the amber liquid. The shaking subsided though, which is a good thing since I can tie the bracelet around my wrist now. Just for safekeeping. It's mine no longer – it belongs to Justin. I see Deb's boyfriend out of the corner of my eye. He's holding Ian's lovely little note, brows drawn together like his pondering something. "I think we don't have to guess what happened anymore." No shit, Detective. "I'm going to have someone check Mr Gold's apartment. And people will be searching for Justin's car." Fuck the car! But I know that it could be a lead, so... "Brian?" I gaze up, and Carl is standing right in front of me. "We'll find him. And that's a promise. We'll find them both, and this time, Gold won't get off so easily." Hell, I don't give a shit about Ian. All I care about is Justin – and I know that I failed to do what I promised him. I told him that the fiddler would never hurt him again, and now. Now he's in the hands of that fucking manic, and I dread to think what Ian will do to him. And there's absolutely nothing I can do. Shit. I never felt this useless – this powerless – not even after the bashing. I hear Linz tell Mel to take care of Gus. My little son is apparently in the bedroom, sleeping peacefully because he doesn't know that his second dad is... I can't think about that now. I just can't! I might run crazy. Then Linz is by my side again, and I turn to her, whispering, "I can't lose him. I can't! Why is this happening, Linz? Why is it always us? First the bashing, then all the shit that happened afterwards. Then Ethan and the Rage party. And then, when we were finally on track, the fucking fiddler tried to kill me. And let's not forget about the trial... Don't we ... don't we deserve to be happy for more than a few months? I know that I don't... But Justin... He's so warm and loving. Just look at how he acts around Gus. And he never gave up on us, despite all the shit I sent his way. Well, maybe he lost his way for a short while, but fuck, he found it again when it was important. I ... I love him, Linz. I never thought I'd ever feel that way, but I love him. And I need him to love me. He turns me into a better person..." Fuck! I'm babbling like a fucking dickless fairy. But I don't care. It's not important. Shit. Linz was right when she told me that Justin was the only thing I couldn't replace after the break-in two years ago. Cause I'd give everything I own to have him back now. Everything! Linz is kissing my cheek, and starts to stroke my hair. "Brian ... you do deserve to be happy. Justin would have your head – no pun intended – if he could hear you now." Did I mention that I hate her? She's too fucking smart. "And don't you dare wallow in self-pity here..." Gee, I wouldn't – it makes my dick go soft. "...cause Justin won't do that, either. He's going to be strong and fight back. He'll show that fiddler that he won't be victimised. And he'll trust that you will find him, that you will get him and bring him home again." So no pressure at all. But fuck, she does have a point. I can't lose my head here. I have to be a step ahead of the fiddle fuck. "And never forget that he loves you, okay? Because he does. He always did..." Yes, I know, Linz. And for some reason this thought gives me strength. Well, it always did, didn't it? Only – I wasn't prepared to admit it, not even to myself. My left hand closes around the bracelet, once again secured on my right wrist. And then I look up, catching Carl Horvath's gaze. "He won't hurt him, unless Justin gives him reason to, which Justin won't do. The fiddler thinks he's in love with Jus... So, if Justin plays his cards well..." The detective nods. "However, I don't think they are at Ian's apartment. It would be too simple for us to find them there. Then again, the fiddle fuck is notoriously broke..." But maybe he found someone to dote upon him... He certainly has the looks, and maybe even the talent to weasel his way into people's good graces. Justin fell for that shit, so why should others fare any differently? --- Justin Ouch. My head feels as if someone had tried to crush it with a – not a baseball bat, no – a sledgehammer more like. Fuck! Whatever Brian gave me last night, it was bad, really bad. And I'm so going to punish him for it. Ouch, the light hurts my eyes. I'm trying to move my right arm to cover my face, but I can't move it. I crack my eyes open and... Holy fucking shit! Brian is going to kill me! "Promise me, Sunshine. You will park the car in the garage at the mall. Promise!" And I did. Only, when I got to the gallery, I was already running late, so... And now I'm in the hands of Ethan, cuffed to the fucking bed – motel bed if I'm not very much mistaken – and God only knows what he's got in store for me. I look around, and Ethan is nowhere to be seen. Good. Time for me to clear my head, and formulate a plan in my mind. I'm trying to get my arm free, but it won't budge. Was to be expected. And then I realise that the bracelet is missing. Shit! What did you do, Ethan? Oh no! I can guess what he did with it just fine. Rub Brian's nose in our newly found happiness, right? Gods, Brian! I feel a lone tear slide down my cheek, but I wipe it away angrily. 'Pull yourself together, Taylor.' I have to be strong, have to... Have to play along. That's it. The longer I can make Ethan believe that I'm his – because that is what this is all about – the more time I give Brian to find me. And he will. I'm sure of it. Gods, I hate the fiddle fuck as Brian calls him – when he's not Ian. And I'm so fucked! I should have listened to Brian. But no! A few minutes walking distance were more important than my safety. I can already hear Bri... "What the fuck have you been thinking? Have you learnt nothing, nothing at all?! I was half-crazed with worry..." Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking screwed. And angry. I really, really tried to make Ethan understand. Because I knew I'd hurt him by leaving him after just one night. I wanted him to understand that the break-up was the best for both of us. Cause eventually it would have ended. I simply wouldn't have been able to let go of my love for Brian, as in – ever. And it would have hurt even more had we been together for weeks ... months ... whatever. I wish I would have seen back then what I know now. Ethan is, and will always be, about Ethan. And only Ethan. He didn't freak out because he lost the man he loved. Hell, he only really loves himself. No. This whole shit only happened because I dared to leave him. Him – the perfect romantic, the perfect violinist, the perfect lover. My ass! More like the perfect lunatic! How could I ever fall for his shit? Gods, was I screwed back then. Okay, that hustler for my birthday was a bit ... a lot... But I know that Brian was trying. But I closed my eyes to it – and my heart. 'Brilliant, Taylor. Pitying yourself won't get you out of here, I hope you know that.' Fuck it. The door opens and Ethan comes in, with that huge smile of his plastered to his face. He holds a single red rose in his hand, and I feel like puking. Instead, I return his smile, lulling him into a false sense of security. When all I want to do is rip his head off. Both of them, actually. "You're awake..." Can't get anything past you, can I? "I'm sorry, Justin. But I had to get you back. I know that you were unhappy with that Kinney. After all, you love me, don't you?" No, you pathetic little fucker, I don't. But instead of telling him to get stuffed, I nod in affirmation. All the while my heart is crying, 'I love you, Brian. I love you so very much.' Fuck it all. Ethan draws closer, and leans down to kiss my forehead. I cringe back. Fuck! But he smiles ruefully. "Does your head hurt?" I nod. "I'm so sorry, my love, so sorry. I'm going to run to a pharmacy and get you something, yes? Can you ... can you tell me what you can take? I don't want to risk anything with your allergies..." Shit, this pseudo-caring of his is really making me sick. I tell him what pain meds I can take, and he fucking kisses me, and I force myself to respond. I'm thinking of Brian, and that makes it almost bearable. Almost. "You do understand that I have to keep you secured, yes?" He's pointing to my right arm, and I nod again. "But I got rid of that disgusting bracelet he gave you. I returned it to him. Do you like that?" Gods, Bri! I don't want to even think about what he's going through right now. "Oh, and maybe you'd also like to know that our little trip to paradise is on him – as a parting gift so to speak." Wait a moment. Paradise? As in Paradise Motel? He brought me to that shithole? Great, Ethan, just great. Jesus, I sound like Brian. And isn't that a comforting thought? And what was that with our trip being on him? He didn't... Oh, Ethan. How exceptionally stupid of you. But I should have known it. He doesn't have any cash, nor any credit cards. So he went for mine. Or rather, Brian's. I still remember the fuss I made about it. I didn't want to take it. "It's for emergencies, Sunshine. I know you can handle everything just fine, but I would feel better if you had it – just in case." And aren't I glad that I have it. The moment Brian remembers it, he'll call the credit card company. And they will be able to track us down. Ingenious! But for the time being I have to play along. It won't be for much longer. Because, knowing Brian, he'll be on the warpath by now. So I reach for the rose, and smell it. "Thank you." Ethan smiles. Gods, I wish I could crush his fucking face. "And you're right. It serves him right, doesn't it?" He nods and kisses me again. And then he's off to the pharmacy, and I just want to crawl into a hole and die. Or rather, take a long shower, and brush my teeth until the feel of his hands, and the taste of his lips are gone. Oh, and I want Brian. Did I mention that? --- Brian I somehow made it through the night. Probably thanks to the newest additions to our circle of friends – Kathleen and Eamon. Linz thought it best to call them as well, and they sedated me. I'm actually surprised that I'm awake after all the stuff they forced down my throat. Okay, I'm exaggerating here. The thing is, I'm practically bouncing in my seat as we speed through the streets of good old Pittsburgh. Because we found him! We know where Justin is. Actually, I found him. When I woke up, it was to bad news. Mr Gold was nowhere to be found, his apartment empty. No surprise there. And then they found Justin's car, and I'm so going to strangle him for that. Why didn't he listen to me? Why?! Carl also tried to check the fiddler's credit cards – a red herring again. Because the fiddle fuck doesn't have one. But it was the thought of credit cards that made me think. And call my credit card company. The card I gave Justin for emergencies – it had been used last night. At the fucking Paradise Motel. When I heard, I once again felt the urge to rip the fiddler to shreds. To take Justin to that hellhole... "Well, it's the best we've got." Translates from Horvath-speech to, "You did it, Kinney. Let's go there and get Sunshine." He didn't want me to come along. Of course he didn't. "You're no police officer, Brian. Who knows if Gold isn't armed or something." Well, I told him to stick his fucking rules up his ass. That shut him up. Unfortunately I said that right in front of Gus, so Linz is now pissed at me. Mel as well, but that's nothing new. But I don't give a shit. Not now. Not when I'm sitting in a fucking police car, heading towards that motel to get Justin back. Shit, I don't even want to think about what we will find. I don't. I can't! He is going to be alright. He has to be. Gods, he has to be. It's ridiculously easy to get the room number. Well, I'm paying for it after all. And then we're there, and the Detective is knocking. Ian tells the cleaning lady to come back later, and that's it. The door – the fiddler left it unlocked, so this isn't breaking and entering – bursts open, and I call Justin's name just as he kicks the fiddle fuck. I bet he hears the bells ringing right about now... And then Justin tells him just what he is to him, and I'm so fucking proud of him. And then I realise... Shit, they are both naked. Fuck! I'm not paying any attention to Horvath tackling Ian down. I'm moving to the bed and... "Thank God you're here!" He catches my gaze, and shakes his head, "Nothing happened. Perfect timing I'd say." Then he sags against me and whispers, "I love you, Brian. Gods, I love you." --- Justin When Ethan returns, I'm ready. I'm sure that Brian has figured out the credit card thing by now, and I could actually kiss Ethan for being so stupid. He gives me a pill against my head ache, and then lies down next to me, gently stroking my hair. "I have you back. I missed you so much, Justin. So very much." Yeah, like I'm going to believe that. "That night ... I really didn't mean to hurt Kinney. I just wanted you back." Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever you say. "I'm sorry I scared you. I promise I'll never to that again. As long as you stay with me..." There had to be a catch. "Why ... why did you go back to him? What did he do to you?" Shit. I was afraid he'd ask that. Now what do I tell him? Right... "He ... he threatened to commit suicide if I didn't return. And I loved him at some point, so..." Fuck! As if Brian would have done anything, anything at all, to get me back. No way. Brian Fucking Kinney doesn't need anyone, even though he looked like death warmed over that evening when he returned to the loft. I know that he wouldn't have fought for me – for us. Thanks to his loving family who had made him believe that he didn't deserve love. Fuck them. Ethan looks at me expectantly, and I know I have to give him a little more. "I wanted to tell you, but... I couldn't. I knew I hurt you anyway, so I just wanted to sever all bonds, and not leave you in limbo..." And the fucker is buying my shit. Goes to show how cracked he is. "You should have told me, Justin. I would have understood it. I would have waited." Oh, no. You wouldn't have. You would have freaked out just like you did. "I love you, Justin. I love you. And I missed you so much. Did you ... miss me, too?" I nod, not trusting my voice. I just want to get away from him. But I can't because God knows where he put the fucking keys for the handcuffs. "And I want you..." Shit. Gods, no! I can't do that. I can't fake that! A kiss is okay, but... He slowly peels off my clothes, kissing my chest, and I close my eyes. And suddenly it's Brian. Those lips upon my skin aren't Ethan's but Bri's. And the hands caressing my sides – they are Brian's as well. But it is Ethan's voice that mutters, "I want to make love to you. Will you let me?" Do I have a choice? If I say 'No', he'll do it anyway, but I will lose my one chance to get out of here more or less unscathed. So I slowly nod. It's only my body. He can't touch my soul. I open my eyes, and he's undressing. Then he crawls back onto the bed, right between my legs. He's aroused... Brian, please hurry up! He uncaps the lube and coats his fingers generously. Brian, please! I feel his hands spread my cheeks, and then his finger is inside of me... Brian! And then there's a knock at the door. "If you're the maid, come back later! We're busy." But it isn't the maid. A moment later the door burst open, and I see Carl Horvath and some other cops and ... Brian. "Justin!" Thank God. He's here. He found me! I catch Ethan's gaze, and smile at him right before my knee connects with his groin. He groans loudly, and slumps down on top of me. I grab his greasy hair, and yank his head up so his eyes are locking with mine. "Listen to me, and listen well. I hate you. If not for what you were about to do to me just now, then for what you did to Brian. To the man I love! Do you hear me? I love him, I will always love him. And you know what you were for me?" I catch Brian's gaze for a moment, "You were pain management. Nothing more. I never gave a shit about you." Okay, that's a lie. But I wish it were so. I wish I didn't feel just a little bit responsible for all of this. The cops drag Ethan off the bed, and then Brian is there, and his arms come around me. And for the first time in ages – that's at least what it feels like – I feel protected and safe. I tell him how glad I am that he's here, and that I love him. And he just holds me, and finally someone finds the fucking keys, and my arm is free again. And Brian... he unties the bracelet from his wrist and ties it around mine once more. "That's where it belongs. And this," he pulls me even closer, "is where you belong."