WHITE ‘White light is made up of many different colours and you can see this when you spread the light out into a rainbow’— Amazing-space.stsci.edu YELLOW: “A ‘yellow smile’ is a smile used when a person is concealing an emotion he wishes to keep hidden”—Wikipedia “Bright yellow represents lightheartedness and relief”—Color Wheel Pro “Sunshine Yellow people do not like being left to deal with things on their own”— relate.org.uk The Next Day Brian’s POV The rain drops looked like tiny crystals, reflecting the magenta, gold and cyan of the lights on a darkened Liberty Avenue. They stayed suspended on the windshield for a few seconds, as if resting from their long trip from the heavens, before slipping down to join the multitude of others that had dashed themselves onto the shiny wet pavement. I shook myself mentally, realizing that although I was still looking in the direction of the Liberty Diner, my vision had refocused, and instead of watching the door, I’d been watching the rain splashing on the windshield. Shit. Had I missed him? I craned my neck and tried to peer into one of the diner’s frount windows. For the first time since I’d gotten it, I wished the ‘Vette was a little less conspicuous. It just screamed ‘Hey! Look at me!”…this of course was why I’d bought it. But right at that moment, I’d rather have had a car that could blend into the backdrop, could disappear into the shadows. I knew it would look so fucking weird if I’d parked it right in frount of the diner but hadn’t gone in. It was what I’d always done in the jeep when I’d picked Justin up from an evening shift at the diner. And everyone, from the line chefs to the hustlers inhaling their Pink Plate Specials, had known it; Brian Kinney was waiting to take his hot young boyfriend back home for a fuck. But now the whole fucking goddamn world knew we weren’t together anymore. The rumours would spread like wildfire, splashed liberally like bright yellow paint all over the vicious verbal fag-loids. And someone, somewhere along the way, would find out and would use Justin’s fragile secret- the one he wouldn’t even tell his own mother- to achieve their place in gossip hound history. And it would be my fault. Which is why I wasn’t about to complicate things by sending out an open invitation to bystanders. It was a bit difficult to see from my position parked in the alley across and slightly to the right of the diner, but to my relief, I managed to spot Justin’s head, easily recognizable now by his mane of white-gold hair, as he cleared a table by the window. I glanced at the neon lights of the clock display- 8:13pm- he was working late. Daphne had said his shift was supposed to be over at eight. That was the one piece of information I’d actually managed to digest on the spot during her nocturnal visit. It seemed as if an eternity had passed since Daphne had slipped out of the loft door and into the damp, still dawn. I’d still been reeling from everything she’d told me…things I would be incapable of comprehending until hours and hours later. Justin had left the fiddler. Justin was living with Daphne. Justin was trying to get a student internship at Vanguard to get closer to me…Justin still loved me…Justin still wanted me. All those things so accurately embodied everything I’d wanted or had dared to hope for that I should have been happier than Barney the Dinosaur on an E trip. But all those things- everything- was overshadowed and completely consumed by an incomprehensible darkness. Justin had cancer. Christ. Those three words had floored me, winded me, had literally had left me gasping for breath. Cancer? How could he have cancer? He was so young and healthy and beautiful and perfect. Jesus- wasn’t one near death experience enough? For him or for me. Although I’d hidden it carefully under a mask a mask of respectful concern, I was profoundly shocked and deeply hurt when Daphne had told me why Justin didn’t want to tell me about the cancer himself. Did he honestly think I wouldn’t fucking care? That I would leave him to suffer alone, without even his mother’s comfort? Did he seriously think I would consider this a punishment for his fuck up with Ethan? Did he really, truly think I was that much of an asshole? And if he did, what in God’s name had I done to make him think I was? My mind was wandering, watching the rain drops again, and I didn’t see Justin emerge from the diner. I only realized the dark figure crossing the street towards me was him when his face was eliminated by the glow of a streetlight as he looked up the road to check for cars. He was clad in a yellow and navy Gill rain jacket I hadn’t seen before, but I recognized the shoulder bag slung over his right shoulder. He was across the street and almost in front of the car before I could move. Damn it- fucking do something, Kinney! Throwing caution to the wind, I flung the door open and extracted myself, none to gracefully, from the driver’s seat. Justin heard the clatter, being only three or four paces away, and jerked his head around to find the source of the noise. Like me, he seemed to have been caught up in thoughts of something far more important than the here-and-now. Recognition was instant, and the fact that I’d been sitting there waiting for him followed shortly thereafter. He stood as if frozen to the spot, an intense emotion I couldn’t quite read playing on his face. I could read his eyes though- I’d always been able to- and the question they asked may as well have been projected from the blue depths onto the brick wall behind me. “I know.” I told him softly, answering. He made a small sound in the back of his throat and looked for an instant exactly like the 18-year-old in the scarlet jacket who had cried in my arms when I’d told him I would forget about him when I went to start my new (and completely fanciful) life in New York. It was the same look of shattered innocence, of desperate longing, of profound unhappiness. I had been prepared for him to throw himself into my arms but instead, harshly chastising myself from my lack of control, I threw myself into his. I put my arms around his neck and hugged him close, burying my face in the silken softness of his rain-damped hair. After a second, he locked his own arms around my waist in a grip that was so tight I could barely breathe. His whimpered my name over and over again as he pushed his face into the gap between the folds of my jacket where I had left the top button undone. After a few moments I felt him start to shake gently and knew he was crying. I slipped my hand under the hair that fell to his collar and squeezed the back of his neck gently. I knew that today had been tortuous for him- having to act cool and collected while carrying his terrible burden through a perfectly normal world that just couldn’t know. Putting on a yellow smile and pretending he hadn’t just been handed a direct ticket to a journey through the fires of hell. His tears, I knew, were not of happiness that he was again in my arms, or that I had seemingly forgiven him. They were purely tears of blessed relief that I knew and I cared. We were in the shadows of the alley way, but I knew it was a matter of time before someone in the diner or on the street spotted us. We couldn’t do this here. I bent my head to Justin’s ear and whispered so much to him. After a second or two, I felt him nod once against my chest, but he didn’t pull away, or make any effort to move. “Will you let me take you back to the loft? I want to talk to you.” I told him gently. It seemed absurd to me that I should actually ask him this, but the situation was a delicate one, and the last thing I wanted was for him to think I was taking advantage of him. I wanted us both on equal footing. Again, he gave a barley perceivable nod that I felt rather than saw, but again, he didn’t make any effort to move or pull away. Shifting my arms from his shoulders to his waist, I directed him, still maintaining his death grip on my midriff, towards the passenger door. It wasn’t until I’d actually bent down to open it that Justin pulled away from me and curled himself into the frount seat. His face was now streaked with tears, the eyes swollen and the pale skin a bit blotchy, but he was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. I shut the passenger door gently before going around to the driver’s side and getting back into the car. Quickly buckling my seatbelt and checking to make sure Justin was wearing his, I waited until the frount window of the diner was deserted before slowly pulling out of the alley and pointing the car towards home. He was silent on the trip back to the loft, leaning forward slightly, looking at his hands twisting idly in his lap. His hair shone saffron gold in the reflected light of the street lamps. I loved his hair long (although I would never actually tell him this) - it was so him, so absolutely Justin. But I didn’t like the way he’d swung the curtain of hair across his face so I couldn’t see his eyes. When we came to a straight stretch of road that was relatively devoid of other vehicles, I reached out a hand to his face and tucked the curtain of hair behind his ear. His eyes were still shining with unshed tears, but now I could detect something almost like anxiety lingering deep in their depths. Wanting to reassure him, I laid my hand on the back of his neck again, feeling strangely relieved when he leaned into my touch slightly. We drove like that the rest of the way. ~~~ He looked lost and disorientated as I slid the metal door to the loft closed behind me. It was as if he had never seen the place before…like the first night I’d brought him here. The best mistake I’d ever made, as it turned out. But now all I could do was wonder, a bit desperately, what was making Justin so obviously uncomfortable about being in my loft. “Here, take your jacket off,” I instructed, more to prevent the awkward silence that was threatening to develop. He did as he was told and held the dripping garment in his hands for a few seconds as if wondering what to do with it. Then, glancing at me as if for approval, he laid it across the back of one of the bar stools. It was so strange, so formal, so…awkward. The whole situation felt so fucking weird, I felt like I was wading out of my depth. I tried to dissipate the uneasy atmosphere by moving about the room, hanging up my jacket, going to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. “I…I should call Daphne.” He said suddenly, looking towards the phone. It was the first sentence he had spoken that night and as ridiculous as it seemed, I realized just how much I had missed his voice. Even more absurdly, I found myself making an impromptu promise that I would never tell him to shut up again (God- I was going to regret that one). “It’s OK.” I told him gently, “She knows. I told her I’d bring you back to her place later tonight.” He looked at me, trying to understand what I was telling him. I saw the truth dawning in his eyes, but I owed it to Daphne to make her heroic deed clearly known. “She came here last night and told me everything. She was so fucking scared for you.” ‘And so am I,’ I wanted to add, but knew I couldn’t…I wouldn’t…Not just then, anyway. “Did she tell you…everything?” Justin asked. He looked suddenly alarmed and anxious again. He had stepped back to perch on the bar stool that his jacket was draped over, but now he slid off it again. I knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was burning to ask me and I willed him not to ask it, but I knew he had to. He looked into my face, into my eyes, as if trying to find the answer there. “About Ethan?” When I nodded in affirmation, his head dropped and the hair swung across his face again to hide his look of ashamed anguish. Jesus- did he still think the fucking prink mattered now? Did he think I would seriously give a rat’s ass about something so trivial at a time like this? Fuck! “Justin.” The combination of me using his given name, which I hardly ever called him by directly, and the sharpness of my voice made his head jerk up to look me in the face. His eyes were shining with tears, and although he looked incredibly fragile just then, I was going to get it out and I was going to make sure he understood it. “Sit.” I ordered, and Justin stepped back up onto the bar stool again, looking apprehensive. I closed the distance between us and laid both hands on his shoulders. We were both tactile people, and touch was essential in communicating with each other. “Look at me.” Justin looked up into my eyes, expectant and anxious all at the same time. “What happened with Ethan doesn’t matter. Not now. We can talk about it later if we need to, but now we need to concentrate on getting you through this. We don’t ask questions, we don’t dwell on the past- we’ll just do what has to be done. I’ll help you if you’ll let me. Do you understand that?” The tears had begun to course down Justin’s cheeks again, but he never broke eye contact with me. He nodded his head, but that wasn’t quite good enough for me. “Say it.” I demanded. “I understand.” He whispered, his voice quavering and breaking. I wanted to take him in my arms again and comfort him, but I wasn’t finished. I had to be strong, too. “Daphne told me you had another appointment with the oncologist tomorrow for a CAT scan or something. She said the doctor had asked you to bring someone with you to explain the options. Do you want me to come with you?” Making a small, strangled sound, Justin suddenly took my hand in both of his and held it to his mouth. It wasn’t a romantic or even a friendly gesture, but more something a distraught child might do to a parent. “Yes.” He whimpered into my knuckles. “Please…come with me.” “Alright.” I agreed, but there was one more thing I wanted to make clear. “I’m not going to hide this from your family, though. When your Mom comes back, you’re gonna tell her, understand? I’ll come with you if you want.” Justin nodded again, then remembering I wanted verbal affirmation, too, gave it to me in the same chocked whisper. “OK.” I said again, stroking his blond hair with my free hand before bringing it down to squeeze his shoulder. “Be brave, Sunshine.” Feeling suddenly embarrassed by the whole emotional song and dance, I tried to bring myself back to myself. Fuck, I was getting soft. Wasn’t it the Sunlight brand of laundry detergent that was supposed to make clothes soft? Christ. Here was my life, now reduced to making metaphorical comparisons with laundry detergent. The thought made me smile a little. “Hungary?” I asked. Justin shook his head no, letting go of my hand. “You have to eat something…Shit- did you hear me? I just sounded exactly like Deb.” Justin gave me a small grin, not much, but certainly a smile. “What do you feel like?” “Can we have Thai?” Justin asked, broadening the smile a little. I barked out a laugh, suddenly feeling elated that my Sunshine was sort of, almost, very nearly shining again. “Why? Have you been suffering Thai food deficiency these last few months?” Well who’d have thunk? He’d always complained like stink that I would die of Thai food overload one day. Justin’s smile grew a bit bigger and he nodded. “You wouldn’t believe the number of strudels I ate- I never want to see another one again.” Grinning to show that I had acknowledged that for what it was- a lighthearted snip at the fucking fiddler- I dug in the kitchen drawer for the Thai Take-out menu. “Here- order whatever you want for both of us. Just don’t get those disgusting curried crab claws again.” Justin took the menu with what could possibly pass as a shadow of his sunshine grin. God, I had missed him. More than he’d ever know or I’d ever tell him. All of the modern teeny-bopping pop bands nowadays all tried to write fake, plastic lunch box songs about love and sex, but really, I think it’s the old-fashioned children’s songs- the ones that music boxes play- that really get it right. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my Sunshine away…”