~*~
As the car sped closer to Liaison, Brian found himself thinking about the last time he’d spoken to Justin before he left for New York. If there was ever a moment he’d have to say changed the course of his life, besides meeting Justin in the first place, it would have probably been the last fifteen moments he spent with him before walking away for what he thought would be the last time. He could replay the memory in his mind, almost as vividly as when it first happened.
Justin, lying in a hospital bed, his head wrapped in white bandages, his body weak and pale… too frail for someone usually so vibrant. He was sleeping and Brian was sitting in a chair beside the bed, waiting for him to open his eyes. He’d been told Justin had fought his way back, had come out of the coma and was virtually on his way to recovery. Brian wouldn’t believe it, wouldn’t accept it until he saw it for himself. Until he could look into Justin’s eyes, hear his voice and know without a doubt that he was okay. Once that happened, he’d be able to do what he knew he had to do. What Jennifer had demanded that he do. It took two days after Justin woke up before he could face him. Before he could face the truth of what had happened, and even then, he wasn’t sure he was ready.
He watched Justin’s eyes flutter and silently urged them to open. When they finally did, and he saw the smile move across Justin’s lips, he let out the first sigh of relief in over two weeks.
“I knew you’d come. Everyone told me not to get my hopes up, but I wouldn’t listen to them.”
Brian could barely meet his eyes, but did manage to smile back at him. Justin stretched, wincing a bit when he tried to flex his right hand. Brian remembered what Jennifer had told him about Justin’s motor functions being fucked. Not in those words exactly, but the end result meant the same thing. He’d have a lot of work ahead of him if he ever wanted to be able to draw again.
Brian glanced down at the blanket, picking at a piece of lint and said, “You really scared the shit out of everyone.”
Justin nodded and hesitated, “I don’t really remember much. Daphne told me some of it, what she could, but she said she wasn’t there… she didn’t see what happened when I got hit.”
Brian closed his eyes, willing away the image of the bat, the sound of the smack, the blood… the silence of Justin lying on the cold cement. “Forget it. You’re okay and that’s what’s important.”
“But I don’t want to forget it,” he argued. “She said you danced with me in front of everyone. And that you kissed me?”
Brian continued to find distraction in the blanket. “Yeah, well. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”
Justin frowned, trying to sit up, frustration evident when he didn’t have the strength to do it on his own. Brian saw his jaw clench and then watched him look away for a moment before turning back with angry eyes. “Don’t fucking say that.”
“It’s true, Justin. I had no business being there.”
“But you actually showed up after you told me you wouldn’t. That means something.”
“Don’t try to pretend it was some fucking romantic notion. I was only there to piss off straight, fag hating assholes.”
Justin shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”
Brian shrugged and finally looked at him. “Believe what you want. It was a mistake that nearly got you...” Brian stopped and held a short breath. “It was a mistake.”
Justin waited until Brian made eye contact again. “He didn’t take a bat to my head because you came to my prom. He did it because he’s a homophobic prick and he’d had it out for me all year.”
Brian closed his eyes and saw the bat again. Felt the nausea settle in the back of his throat. “If I hadn’t been there…”
“It’s not your fault. Chris Hobbs is the only fucking person responsible.”
Brian gave a slight nod, without conviction.
“Did you know the doctors told me if he’d hit me just a fraction of an inch, in either direction, I could have been a vegetable? Or worse?”
“Justin…”
“You know the one thing that I do remember? Hearing you call my name and turning toward you, toward the sound of your voice. Maybe if I hadn’t done that… if I’d kept walking, maybe I wouldn’t be here.”
Brian visibly flinched and Justin reached out, covering his hand. “But I am, because of you. You saved my life, Brian. And now everything’s different. And when I get out of here, we can start…”
“Stop.”
“What?”
Brian tried to make his voice firm, even though he wasn’t feeling at all in control. “Don’t act like this changes things. It doesn’t.”
“What do you mean? I thought that…”
“I’m leaving, Justin. Tomorrow. Just like I planned.”
Justin looked at him in confusion. “You’re still going to New York?”
Brian shrugged. “What’d you think? That I’d give up my future? Give up New York so I could stay here and hold you hand? You have your mom. You have Deb. You don’t need me for that.”
Moisture flooded Justin’s eyes, but he managed to hold back the tears. “I do need you.”
“I told you before, we’re not a fucking couple. I’m not your boyfriend and I never will be.” A little softer, he added, “Anyway, there’s nothing I can do to help you if I stay here.”
“I don’t want you to stay to help me.” His voice cracked a little when he said, almost whispering, “ You could stay because you want to.”
Brian stared at him for a long, awkward minute and then said, “I’m going. I just wanted to make sure you were okay first.” He stood up, trying to ignore the tears that were now streaking Justin’s cheeks. “You’re strong, Justin. You’ll be okay.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more.
Justin glared and then pointedly turned his head away.
Brian left the room, running into Jennifer in the hallway. He’d never felt more conflicting emotions than he did right then, looking down into her saddened face. He’d done what she’d asked, promising to stay away in hopes that Justin would find a life she was convinced was more suited for a boy his age. Only, he wasn’t sure if either of them knew what was really best for Justin.
“Thank you, Brian.”
His stone cold expression gave nothing away when he replied, “Don’t ever think I’m doing this for you.”
~*~
“Brian! I’ve been trying to get your attention! Where were you?”
Brian turned to look back at Michael, shook his head and then reached for the button to turn up the radio.
~*~
Justin wasn’t shy about showing his cock. He’d learned long ago how to use his good looks and his generous endowments to his advantage. Spending his first year as an adult on Liberty Avenue had taught him more than enough to deal with the men who came into Liaison. Mostly, he’d learned that being young and small in stature meant nothing as long as he took control of his situation. He was the one who set the rules, whether he was dancing in front of a large crowd or entertaining one on one in a quiet room. In return, he knew what they wanted and tried his hardest to give it to them.
But there was always one. Every so often, there’d be that one person who thought they were above the rules. Someone who thought they deserved more than Justin was willing to offer. And that’s when things got messy.
Justin threw his bag against the locker, watching as the contents fell out of it and tumbled to the floor. His fist caught the metal as he slammed the door shut and then kicked it hard, not once, but twice for good measure.
“Hey! You’d better not let Kenny see you do that!”
Justin’s foot met the locker one final time. “Fuck Kenny! And fuck this place!”
Jimmy sat down on the bench that divided the lockers and waited for Justin to calm down. It didn’t take long before Justin turned toward him, revealing the split and swollen lip and the bruise across his cheek.
“Fuck! What happened to you?!”
Justin leaned back against the lockers, rubbing his hands over his face, hissing at the sting when he accidentally touched his lip. “Nothing. At least if you talk to Kenny.”
“Well, what’s your opinion?”
He shook his head. “Fucking arrogant asshole wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“And all Kenny saw was dollar signs?”
Justin leaned down and began stuffing his belongings back into his duffle. “Pfft. Kenny always sees dollar signs. He doesn’t give a fuck about us.”
Jimmy snorted. “And you’re surprised?”
Lifting his bag onto his shoulder, Justin pushed his hands into the pockets of his cargos and then sighed. “I never thought I’d be doing this.”
Shrugging, Jimmy said, “Who does? But it’s not so bad most of the time. I figure at least I’m getting paid. I could be doing the same thing in the backrooms on Liberty for free.”
Justin grimaced when his tongue tasted the blood still oozing from the cut. “But don’t you want more? Don’t you have goals?”
Jimmy looked down, away from Justin’s prying eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I want, Justin. I’m not like you. I’m not smart enough for school or born with some fucking amazing talent that’ll take me out of this shithole.”
“That’s not true.”
“Whatever.” Jimmy stood up, grabbing his coat from a hanger on the wall. “Anyway, you’d better go. It’s almost time for the last bus, unless you want me to give you a ride?”
Justin laughed. “No way! I remember the last time you drove me home. It took me two fucking days to finally come down after the little party you decided we should have.”
Jimmy grinned. “But it was a hell of a ride.”
“A little pick me up once in a while is one thing, but two days of not knowing where you are or how you got there isn’t my idea of fun.”
“Yeah, well. To each his own, right? At least I know now to give you the kiddy candy and save the best for myself.”
“Just be careful with that stuff, okay?”
This wasn’t the first talk they’d had about Jimmy’s need to consume whatever hot item of the week he could get his hands on, but Justin wasn’t about to give up trying. Jimmy was a good guy; he just had too much of a superman complex to think anything bad could ever happen to him.
“You go home and put some ice on that pretty face, okay?”
Rolling his eyes, Justin nodded, “It’s not like the guys around here are going to care about a bruised lip.”
Jimmy smiled and moved closer, brushing the bruise on Justin’s cheek with his thumb. “Maybe not, but I do.”
For a brief few seconds, Justin felt awkward. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how Jimmy felt about him. He’d never tried to hide it. But there were times when he’d do something, or say something that made Justin feel almost guilty for not returning his feelings. Sure, they’d fucked once, but it was almost two years ago, when Jimmy was just a trick and Justin had told him in no uncertain terms that he didn’t do repeats. To this day, he still wasn’t sure exactly how they’d become friends, except that Jimmy was pretty well determined to make it happen.
“Jimmy,” he warned.
Jimmy backed off and picked up his own bag from beside the bench. “C’mon. I’ll walk you out.”
~*~
“What the fuck are we doing here?”
Michael was tired and hungry and still didn’t understand why they were sitting in a parking lot in the middle of the night.
Brian’s answer for the third time, after blowing out a stream of smoke was, “Waiting.”
“That’s obvious, but what are we waiting for?”
Brian opened his door and was halfway out before Michael realized he wasn’t going to get an answer. He and Tommy both cranked their necks in the direction Brian was heading, trying to see where he was going.
“What’s he doing?”
Tommy shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
They watched, until Brian met up with two people exiting the building behind several others.
Everything finally became clear and Michael could barely believe what he was seeing. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
Tommy squinted, trying to get a closer look. “Hey! That’s the guy I hooked him up with!”
Michael turned toward him, confused. “What?”
“Yeah, a couple of weeks ago. We came here to have a few drinks and I set him up with that guy. He works here.”
“Fuck.” Michael reached for the handle, determined to stop whatever it was that was happening, but hesitated when he realized he’d always been powerless when it came to Brian and Justin. “This is not good.”
“What isn’t good? What am I missing?”
“That’s not just some guy! That’s Justin!”
When he realized Tommy wasn’t getting it, Michael shook his head. “Someone had to have told you about him. The kid he was fucking before he moved to New York?”
~*~
“Justin.”
Justin turned from where he was talking to Jimmy and spotted Brian, standing with his hands buried inside his jacket pockets and an unlit cigarette hanging between his lips. It was an almost uncanny sight. From the expression on his face, he’d swear Brian looked… well, timid for lack of a better word. But then he quickly remembered who he was standing in front of and pushed that thought away. The words Brian Kinney and timid didn’t belong in the same sentence. More than likely, he was just maudlin, coming down off a high.
“Brian?” Justin hesitated for just a moment, taking in his full appearance, ignoring his silence and then said, “You look like shit.”
Brian glanced from Justin to Jimmy and then back again. “Am I interrupting something?” His hand appeared with a matchbook and he tilted his head to light the cigarette.
Justin debated lying, but then answered, “No.”
“So your boyfriend here wouldn’t mind if I talked to you alone?”
Justin sighed, and then turned to Jimmy. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Jimmy eyed Brian suspiciously. “You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s all right.”
“Okay,” he nodded, looking directly at Brian, “but my cell’s on if you need me.”
They both watched Jimmy walk down the sidewalk and turn the corner before saying anything. With the cigarette almost gone, Brian dropped the butt to the ground and then returned his hands to his pockets. “He’s hot.”
“He’s a friend.”
“But you’ve fucked him.”
Justin wasn't up for small talk and even more than that, he wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation. The sooner he could get away, the better. Not that he didn’t trust himself, but really, with Brian, he didn’t. Especially now, when they were outside the security of the club’s walls. “What are you doing here?”
Brian shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood.”
“Uh huh,” he replied with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“What happened to your face?”
Justin self-consciously ran his tongue over his lip. “Nothing.”
“Did you at least kick nothing’s ass?”
“I would have, but that would be against club policy.”
Brian took it for the joke it was and smirked at Justin’s quick wit.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re on, but you should go home or wherever you’re staying while you’re in Pittsburgh and sleep it off. Did you drive?” Justin turned his head, looking for the jeep among the few vehicles left in the parking lot, and then realized it had been two years. Brian may not even have the jeep anymore. Especially living in New York, where transportation in other variations was usually more efficient.
Brian grimaced. “I can’t go home. It's overrun by fucking dykes.”
Justin was about to ask, but then decided against it. “Well then I’m sure you have somewhere else you can be. It’s late. I’m tired and I’m not in the mood for this right now.” When Brian made no attempt to move or to even speak, Justin shifted his weight to his other foot and crossed his arms in front of him. His annoyance was building by the second. "Why aren’t you in New York? Shouldn’t you be living it up in your Manhattan apartment with your uptown friends and your fancy job?”
Brian shrugged. “New York… Manhattan… It’s all bullshit, Justin.”
Of all the statements Brian could have made, that one pissed him off and jabbed the knife in all at the same time. “Obviously, it wasn’t bullshit two years ago. Especially since it was more important to you than some fucking kid lying in a hospital room.”
Brian cringed, and for just a split second, Justin actually thought he might have seen a small hint of guilt. Just as fast, it was gone, and Brian’s mask of indifference was firmly back in place. Unfortunately, it just went to prove some things would never change.
“But then, I should have know not to expect anything from you. You warned me right from the start, but I was just too naïve and too fucking delusional… You know… two years ago I even talked myself into thinking you cared. And then you proved me wrong.”
His voice low and unsteady, Brian said, “I did care.”
“Yeah. About fucking me.”
Brian started to say something, and then rolled his lip in instead. After what seemed like careful consideration, he said, “Your mother made it very clear it would be better if I wasn’t around.”
Justin shook his head. “And when did you start giving a fuck about my mother’s opinion?!”
Brian’s voice rose. “When I thought it would be a good idea to show up at your fucking prom and get you bashed in the fucking head!”
Silence.
“Fuck.” Justin really wasn’t sure what else to say. “You didn’t get me bashed…” He stopped, mid-sentence, taken aback by the way Brian was acting. “Wait. Do you honestly still think it was your fault?”
Brian shrugged and pulled his coat tighter around his body. He still wasn’t looking at Justin.
“Because I told you a long time ago. Chris Hobbs is the only person responsible for what happened. I thought you got that.”
He received a slight nod, without conviction.
Justin suddenly felt a cold chill settle over him. Maybe it was the night air, or maybe it was reliving this with Brian after trying so hard to forget everything about it.
Brian’s voice broke the silence. “What you said the other night…”
Their eyes finally met and Justin’s eyes softened.
“You said you hated me for letting it happen.”
Justin was side winded. He never would have considered such a thought to rear its ugly head. But remembering their last conversation, the look in Brian’s eyes when Justin had coldly said he hated him, he now understood exactly what Brian had been thinking.
“Jesus, Brian. That’s not what I fucking meant! You think I’d hate you for something that was out of your control?” Pushing away his previous anger, he chanced moving closer, needing to touch Brian… needing to make some kind of contact just to prove that this was real. That they were actually talking about it. He settled for wrapping a hand around Brian’s arm, watching when Brian flinched and then allowed it. Brian stared down at him, his eyes so full of emotion, Justin almost couldn’t take it. This wasn’t the Brian Kinney he was used to. He’d gotten really fucking good at reading him, reacting to him, but this… this was new.
“I’m fucking pissed as hell that you decided to cut me out of your life. It was selfish and it wasn’t fair! That’s what I hate you for. Whether you admit to yourself or not that such a thing exists, I loved you, Brian. It wasn’t a crush, it wasn’t just sex and it wasn’t going to go away just because you said it had to. A lot happened after you left. For one, I remember that night, Brian. At least, enough of it to know you felt just as much for me as I felt for you. Too bad you were so fucking afraid of finding out what that something might have been.”
Justin backed away, distancing himself and gripped his bag tighter over his shoulder. “It’s cold, it’s late and this is a fucked up place for us to have this conversation.”
Amazingly, Brian somehow felt better. It may have been fucked up to feel that way, because Justin was still angry and still felt betrayed, but this new knowledge gave him hope. Brian’s worst fear after Justin’s outburst in the club was that Justin blamed him for letting him get hurt. That was something they might not ever be able to make it back from. Being pissed because he’d left him… that was something, with enough effort, he could fix.
Justin saw the cloud lift from Brian’s face and couldn’t ignore how much better he felt just being able to say some of the things he never thought he’d have a chance to. Most of all, Brian hadn’t denied feeling something for him. Even if it had been two long years ago, it was a major accomplishment that took some of the sting away.
“So aren’t you going to tell me how lesbianic I’m being? How talking about your feelings makes your dick soft? And I think that was a direct quote by the way.”
Brian smiled. “I know you well enough to know you need a good princess moment every once in a while.” His smile faded and he became a little more serious. “You were right to be pissed.”
Justin couldn’t hide his astonishment. “That almost sounded like an apology. Don’t you know sorry’s bullshit?”
Brian snorted. “You’re too young to be that cynical. I had years to perfect it.”
Justin found himself able to smile. At least it was something. “Yeah? Remind me of that when I’m thirty.”
Light banter was a good start. Brian was optimistic for the first time in a week. Now, he had to figure out a way to keep himself embedded in Justin’s life. He considered the best option available to him.
“Do you work tomorrow?”
Justin scrunched up his nose. “What?”
“Tomorrow. Do you work?”
Confused, he answered, “Yeah.”
Brian nodded and turned around, starting to walk away.
“Why?” Justin called, after him.
Brian shrugged. “Later.”
And Justin was afraid of what that later might mean in the scheme of things.