*** Brian comes home to find Justin sitting at the desk, poring over a stack of paper. From the distance, Brian can just make out RAGE written on the top sheet. Fuck. "I thought we were over this," he remarks, dropping his ring of keys on the kitchen counter and proceeding to hang up his coat. Justin spins around. "What?" he demands. "Rage. I thought we were over it." The boy looks bewildered. "Yeah. You ruined all my work. Because you think it's worthless, I guess – " "Did I say that?" Brian interrupts. "No. I don't think your work is worthless. I think it's stupid for you to get involved with comics, with Michael, no less, when you're talented enough to do just about anything." "So that's why you destroyed what I worked on," Justin deadpans. "Because you think I can do better." Brian sighs. "I know you can do better. And I was drunk. It was fucked up to piss on your work, but I'm not going to apologize, because, fuck, Justin, it's not work!" "What the fuck are you saying?" "I'm saying that you can't do that shit anymore!" Brian yells. Justin gapes at him. "You're not Mikey," hisses Brian. "You're better than that. You have real talent at something, and I expect you to use it – not waste it on silly childish fantasies." Justin looks torn, like he can't decide whether to be pleased that Brian thinks he has talent or angry that he is being told what not to do. At last, he settles for smiling – weakly, but still enough to remind Brian of why Debbie calls him Sunshine. "I… I, uh," Justin begins. "I want to. I want to draw Rage and his boyfriend J.T. and have a gay superhero for the first time ever. I want to show people that fags can be heroes too." Brian scoffs. "Well, if you're going for public approval, it'll be a long time in coming, Kiddo," he sneers. Shaking his head, Justin protests, "Not if we get it out there!" "I don't want you to get it out there," Brian snarls. "You've been bashed. Okay? Is that enough for you? Your drawing is crazy now – your hand doesn't work! Not to mention the emotional trauma. And how about this, Justin? You scared the fucking shit out of everyone who loves you. This gay superhero stuff is pointless, and all it's going to do is get people angry at you. They'll target you. Do you know what happens to targets?" he growls. Justin backs up. He's shocked. Not because Brian is so angry, but because… Brian cares. "No," he whispers. "They die," says Brian simply. There is a long silence. At last, Justin looks at his feet. "All my life, my dad has been telling me what to do, and I've been doing what he says, for the most part. I moved out partly because I wanted to make my own choices, and partly because I wanted to be with you. Then I realized I'll never 'be with you' the way I'd hoped, so I decided to settle for just making my own choices. I'd feel like a real failure if I had oh-for-two." He hesitates. "But," he says, "I think you're right about not being a target. And just because I thought the opposite before doesn't mean I have to stick to that idea, just to say I'm not conforming to you plans. Right?" Brian looks on the verge of remarking that such an intentionally difficult, stubborn act would be just up Justin's alley. Justin cuts him off before he can say so. "I'm a kid, though," Justin says. "I am. And I have a million people to protect me. I have you, Emmett, Ted, Debbie, Michael, Lindsay, Mel… fuck, Gus could probably hold his own in a fight better than I can. So I’m not asking for pity when I say that yeah, I'm going to keep writing this. I'm not asking for people to be scared for me. I want to write this because it's an important cause for me, and I'm an idealist. I wish I could be cynical like you, second-guessing everything about the world… but I can't. I see things in terms of what I want to come of them. I want Rage to be a success, so when I draw it, I see a success." For the first time in his life, Brian is convinced of an opinion opposing that which his own was prior to the debate. He kisses Justin in honor of this landmark.