A/N: Set between 2.17 and 2.18. Of course, 2.18 wouldn’t have happened the way it did in my AU.


This whole vacation is just fucked! It was meant to be a romantic – yes, <i>romantic</i> – trip for both Brian and I, and now I'm here alone, fucking miserable without him. He'd called from Chicago when he got there, and I know I should have told him that I was going, but... Fuck him! I know I shouldn't make such a fuss, but this is just typically Brian. There's always something that's more important than me. His job, his best friend, a new trick... Why the fuck does he keep me around, huh?

I'm almost running head-on into a fucking tree because I'm so preoccupied with the answers my mind provides me with. Me being his personal fuck-toy is the best one ... and doesn't that say a lot about our <i>non-relationship</i>? At first, right after the bashing, I'd been so damn sure that he cared, that he loved me. Trust Mikey to blow that. And ever since the zucchini man and my stupid rules... It's as if he doesn't see me anymore, like he knows I'm there, and that's as much acknowledgement as I can expect.

Sometimes it gets so bad that I wish I had died that night after my Prom. Cause it's getting so fucking hard to keep on trying to hold it together, to keep myself from screaming. Because he is everything to me, and I love him more than life itself – yes, I'm that pathetic – but he... I thought this trip could lay my fears to rest, even though I'm sure he'd have gone clubbing every night, with or without me. This might not be Pittsburgh, but there are quite a few queers around, so...

But no! It wasn't to be. I'm not even allowed to get this tiny little piece of happiness. There's this dagger in my heart, the dagger he pushed in on my birthday. When he told me he had to go to Chicago, he was twisting it, and now I'm bleeding, and I hope I'll be dead soon because I can't stand this pain anymore. He doesn't love me, never has. And how could he?

Worst of all – the nightmares are back. Without him lying next to me to protect me – and how sad is that thought? – they could easily attack again, and I barely slept the last four nights... I miss him, and I want nothing more than to be with him. The problem is, he doesn't want that, will never want it. I really wish I'd just died. Then my last memory of Brian would have been a good one. Or so I think. Sometimes I want to take a hammer to my head and just bang it until the memory resurfaces. It's just not fair! Daphne said that we were so fucking <i>amazing</i>, and the longer we're together, the less I can believe it. There's only one thing that's amazing about Brian and I, and that's the <i>fucking</i>. I was so stupid to believe that he was making love to me...

I wrap my arms around the tree, and cry like a baby. And isn't that how Brian must see me? I'm the poor little baby that's clinging to him, begging him to love it. I'm really surprised he hasn't kicked me out yet. Well, he barely notices me, so I guess I'm safe as far as that's concerned. For now. But staying with him is just ... it's painful, and I think that I'm going to have to find a way to release some of that pain. Maybe Ethan can help me with that, he seemed interested... Or maybe I'll just turn to the cool comfort of a razorblade like so many others did before me...

I'm almost crawling back to the hotel, the hotel Brian's paying for – and I really feel like he's my sugar daddy right now, and I always thought it was so much more... The concierge is trying to tell me something, but I'm not really listening. I just want to go upstairs and soak in the bathtub, alone. Always alone. He won't be there, won't be there to hold me, won't be there to keep the nightmares at bay. I try to open the door, but drop the key card, and I have to try again – twice – until I'm finally inside and sag against the door and cry my eyes out again. I can't believe I didn't see the familiar briefcase sitting on the desk...

But I do hear movement like someone's approaching me, and then, "Justin?" And I just love the way my mind tries to ease the pain, but then I realise that the arms around me are real, that the body next to mine isn't just a figment of my imagination. And the gentle hand that strokes my hair isn't a dream, either. Oh shit! "It's okay, Justin. It's okay..." He came! He's here! But instead of cheering, my brain is working overtime in second-guessing him. Is this his way of saying goodbye? Giving me this one last...

"What are you doing here?" My voice is rough and almost breaks, but I need to know. "Are you trying to drop me the easy way? Kick me out of your life gently?" Usually, I wouldn't have dared asking him any of this, but things are different now. I <i>know</i> that it will end, cause I can't go on. It hurts too fucking much.

Brian cups my face tenderly, and then he's gazing at me intently, and... "I'm paying for this shit, aren't I? So even if it's just for two days, I thought I could make the most of it." Then his brows furrow, and he asks, "And what the fuck are you talking about? Drop you?" He's checking my forehead, for bumps I'm sure, and continues, "You ran into something, yes? You're delusional!" He's so fucking gentle with me, his touch so tender that it drives me insane.

I jump up, free myself from his scorching touch and glare down at him. "Why are you here?! You never cared about spending time with me. Why now? I'd have thought you'd be pissed at me for leaving without telling you. For wasting your money..." He meets my eyes, and he's fucking unreadable again. I just hate him for that. I used to be <i>onto him</i>. "Don't worry, I won't be wasting any more of it. I'm sure you want to hit the clubs, right? Well, have fun. I won't be here when you get back..." And I storm into the bedroom, ready to pack all my stuff and head home – like I still have a home after this – tonight.

But two strong arms are stopping me, turning me around, and I'm forced to gaze at him, and what I see makes me gasp. "You know, I almost stayed in the Pitts after the boys told me that you'd gone snowboarding all on your own." Why doesn't that surprise me? "But then I realised something as I was sitting in the empty loft... I never even tried to make you understand why my trip to Chicago was so important. At least not initially. Besides, there's some things that I wanted to tell you – face to face." Oh shit! His eyes... I've only seen them like this right after I came to live with him. Hurt and insecure, and... No, I'm not going to get my hopes up again, I'm <i>not</i>! "And you sounded like shit last time I called..." Fuck, he <i>was</i> worried!

I'm shaking like a leaf, and I know the waterworks are back on, and I'm waiting for his "cry-baby" comment, but ... nothing. He's just staring at me like I'm the most important thing in the world, and I know I shouldn't, but I'm hoping again. Which is why I'm suddenly saying, "The nightmares are back..." He nods, but keeps quiet as if he knows that there's more. And he's so damn right it's scary. "And I ... I can't go on like this, Brian. I asked you before, but I have to know – why am I here?"

The Brian I thought I knew would have flipped me off with one of his hurtful remarks, but I seem to have fallen through a rabbit hole like Alice, ending up in an alternative universe. There's no other explanation. "When I got back from Chicago, I said something ... without even thinking about it. But I knew it was true, and there was no way I could deny it any longer." What the fuck is he on about now? "And then I heard that you were here, and it ... wasn't very good." In Kinney-speech that much mean something like "I was fucking hurt", and I can't believe that I just realised that. I had been so sure that I'd lost the ability to read him... "You want to know what I said?" I nod. "I called you my <i>partner</i>. Or rather, I said that 'your partner just made partner...'" He what?! Shit! He must have thought that the moment he opened up – and that statement is fucking more than just opening up if you ask me – I wouldn't want him anymore. I mean, I was fucking gone... "It was that phone call that made me go after you..."

I'm still trying to come to terms with that word – <i>partner</i>! But his words register, and I remember that he'd said he was still in Chicago while he obviously had been home. Alone at the loft. <i>Not</i> tricking! And my tone of voice worried him so much that he went against his <i>never-go-after-anyone</i> rule and went after me. But all these thoughts are just secondary because I finally figured out the meaning after that word. It's a fucking declaration! And yeah, I'm crying again. Fuck, I'm so pathetic, even Mikey could take lessons with me. But I still manage to wrap my arms around him and whisper, "Congratulations..." And I don't congratulate him just for making partner. He was always so scared of making any gestures that would imply that we were anything but, well, whatever... And now?

He's rubbing my back again, soothing circles that make me feel so warm and protected - and <i>loved</i>. How could I miss that? Just like I seem to have missed the way he always smiled at me, that special smile of his that makes me wonder if he knows just how bad his crow's-feet are already. Fuck! <i>Partners!</i> "So, care to tell me why I came up here to freezing Vermont instead of enjoying the peace and quiet of the loft? And why you have been imitating my son when his diapers are full ever since you got here?" In other words he wants me to tell him why I scared the shit out of him...

I did. I told him about everything that was bugging me, and I didn't leave anything out, not even the bashing. And he listened! He fucking listened. And then he fucked my brains out. Repeatedly. And I've to say that the last two days of my Vermont trip were a lot more fun than the first four had been. When we got back, Brian called this Matthew guy, who turned out to be a shrink – Brian's been talking to a shrink to make sure that I got better! Will wonders ever cease? And he – Brian, I mean – forced me to get the help I obviously needed to get over "this shit". In turn, I blackmailed him into coming with me, because he's simply not able to let go of the guilt issues he's having over the whole Chris Hobbs incident. I'm still paying him off – one hundred blowjobs take some time – when the <i>Rage</i> party comes up, and I think Mikey isn't going to talk to either of us again any time soon because we sort of spent most of the time in the backroom. Rage was rather insatiable, and JT only too happy to oblige...


<center>FIN.</center>