So here I am standing in a Milan airport after being on a ridiculously long flight that I had to pay a fucking mint to get on. I have no idea what I'm doing here. Because Brian Kinney doesn't drop everything for a fucking twink. But he's not. He hasn't been one for a long time. I grab my bag off the luggage carousel and head off to try and find a taxi. "Where to?" The cab driver asks in broken english. Oh fuck. I have no idea where I'm going. "The Ruel Artist Group." "Street?" "I don't really know. It's an art gallery." He scratches his head. "I think I know where you need to go." About ten minutes later he's pulling up to a building that has RAG Group on it. "Thank you." I hand him his money and head inside. "Excuse me sir, can I help you?" An American woman asks from behind the front desk. I clear my throat and pull my bag higher on my shoulder. "I was looking for Justin Taylor." "Are you a reporter?" "No. I'm a friend of his from Pittsburgh." I tell her. She picks up a list. "Your name?" "Brian Kinney." "Was he expecting you? Your not on the list." She checks. I shake my head. "No. I wanted to surprise him." "Well let me buzz his room." The lobby is filled with paintings and a few artists are sitting at a table off to the side. "Sir, I'm getting no answer. You can head up there if you like, just take the elevators behind me to the fifth floor. Room 039." She hands me a pass. My legs are carrying me to the elevator almost before I take the pass from here. The fifth floor seems like it takes forever to get to, but finally the doors open. Room 039 is the first door to my right and suddenly my hands are shaking. Fuck. Why am I nervous? This is Justin for fuck sake. I finally knock. "For Christ sake Justin. It's about time. You've been in your studio for the last two days. I forgot to give you your keys when I came over with the Art Forum." I hear someone padding towards the door. "So spi-" He yanks the door open and spots me. "You're not Justin." I straighten out my shirt. "No. I'm looking for him." "You're Brian." He states. "Yeah, and you are?" "Oh. I'm Andrew Johnson, Justin's roommate. Come in." He opens the door. The room is a little bigger then a normal dorm. They have a small kitchen, computer and desk, a bathroom and two beds. Looks like a small loft. "Nice." I comment. Andrew closes the door and turns to me. "Thanks. I'm sure you're not here to comment on our room, though." Setting my bag down on a kitchen chair, I can't help but notice how one side looks like Justin and the other looks like Emmett exploded in here. "I came to speak with Justin." "You could have called him. He's trying to move on with his life and your being here isn't going to help that. So tell me Brian, what do you want? To fuck him over again?" Who does this kid think he is? "This isn't any of your fucking business. My relationship with Justin is none of your business." "The fuck it isn't. I'm the one who watched helplessly as he pulled into himself. I'm the one who had to pull him out of that depression when he first got here. I'm the one who had to drag his ass out of bed some days because he was too upset to get up. So don't tell me it's not my business. I had to clean up your mess!" This queen yells. "I just want to talk to him. I need to see him." Why am I pleading my case to him? Andrew comes closer to me. "If you hurt him I-" "Drew!" My head snaps to the door where a ragged, tired looking Justin stands. "Jus! Have you been at the studio this whole time? Are you alright?" Drew runs over and hugs him. Justin nods. "I'm okay, Drew. I have been at the studio. I fell asleep on the floor and realized that I probably should come home and get some rest." Andrew pushes the hair out of Justin's eyes. For some reason I want to go over and punch the little fucker. "Do you want me to get rid of him?" "No. It's alright. Give us a minute." "Okay. I'll be downstairs in the lobby if you need me." Andrew opens the door and leaves. Finally we're alone and I have no idea what to say to him. "Hi." Is the best I can manage. "Brian." He answers setting down his portfolio. "Looks like your doing good." I state. Justin bends down to untie his shoes. "What're you doing here, Brian?" "I saw the article on you in Art Forum." "So?" He shrugs setting his shoes in the closet. "I wanted to see you." He comes into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge. "Now you have, and now you can go." "Justin, can you please just stop and look at me for a second. I need to tell you something." He finally stops trying to avoid me and leans against the counter. "Talk." "I'm divorced." "That all?" Justin takes a sip of the water bottle. I'm a little confused by his reaction. "What do you mean, is that all?" He gives me another shurg. "Just that." "Well I thought you'd want to know." "Why?" I take a seat in one of the chairs. "Why? Because that's what you wanted." "Please Brian, don't tell me the only reason you divorced Kevin just to come and get some fast sex. If you did then I'm sorry, you're wasting your time." "Actually he wanted the divorce."