It had been a month now. A month since Justin had walked out of Brian’s life. Brian had convinced himself that it was for the best. Brian couldn’t give Justin what he wanted and there was no sense in holding the teenager back. It would be wrong for Brian to make Justin stay in a dead-end non-relationship. Justin would have eventually become like Mikey, a shirt that just hangs there in the closet never to be worn. Justin needed to get out while the getting was good as Jack Kinney was always fond of saying. What Brian didn’t understand was if Justin leaving was so damned right, why did he still feel like shit? He should be ecstatic that the teen was out of his life and his loft. He could go anywhere he wanted and stay as long as he wanted. He was fucking free. But he didn’t feel free. In fact, he felt far more tied down now than when he had Justin in his life. He would catch himself glancing at his watch when he was out. He’d then get anxious when he’d discover it was anywhere near 3 am. He’d feel like he was forgetting to do something. He’d ultimately dismiss the curfew, but his mood would darken and being out would lose its appeal. He found himself heading home again and again. . .alone. He’d curse himself for it, but seemingly had no control over his actions. His tricks were another story. They were never all that memorable. All of them had the same forgettable features, beautiful but bland; enthusiastic but lacking. The most frustrating thing of all was when Brian would close his eyes and Justin’s face would pop into his mind. No matter who he was with. No matter what they looked like. His mind would always go back to Justin. It got to the point that Brian would have to think about Justin just to get off and get away from his trick du jour. Then of course there were the dreams. Haunting images of himself with Justin. Images of Justin’s prom mixed with the bashing and the hospital. Followed by the living together, falling asleep to Justin’s rhythmic breathing or being awakened by Justin’s soft kisses. Feeling for the first time ever like he *belonged*. Feeling. . . feeling needed. . . wanted. . . loved. Then waking to an empty bed, an empty loft, an empty life. “Fuck!” Brian swore as he ripped the covers aside. He swung his legs to the side of the bed, got up, and headed for the bathroom. He emptied his bladder, then deciding he’s slept all he was going to for the night, crossed to the couch. He sat staring at the blank TV for a while before turning it on with the sound muted. He just stared at the images on the screen not really seeing them. He wanted a drink, but decided against it knowing he’d have to be at work in a couple of hours. Another long night to be followed by an even longer day lay ahead of him. Brian closed his eyes. Soon he began to drift off. With dreams of Justin again in his arms, Brian fell into a fitful sleep tears of frustration and regret staining his face. End Chapter 1