Michael’s mind raced. A thousand thoughts spun through his head, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t for the life of him, come up with a reason why Brian would just leave Pittsburgh without telling anyone. Let alone, why Brian would leave Pittsburgh without telling Michael himself. The ride up the six floors to Brian’s loft seemed to take forever, but it gave Michael a chance to structure how he was going to confront Brian. He had the ideal words plastered across his brain, but when he stepped off of the elevator and knocked on the door to the loft, he couldn’t control his words once Brian opened the door. "What the fuck are you thinking?" Michael said. Brian raised his eyebrows. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he said moving aside allowing Michael to enter. "Come on Brian," Michael said. "I know you’re smarter than to think Justin wouldn’t find his way over to the diner and tell us everything. Were you really going to just leave? I can’t believe that you’d do something like that. That’s why I’m here. I need you to tell me that it’s not true." "It’s not true," Brian said very simply "This is the first I’m hearing of it," Michael said. "You were just going to get on that plane and fly to New York and not tell any of us you were going. You weren’t going to tell me, you weren’t going to tell Justin. Shit Brian, you weren’t even going to wait until he got back from Miami." "I got a job. I’m going to New York." Brian took a seat. "So what? He’s not my boyfriend." "Bullshit. You wanna know what I think?" Michael said, watching as Brian stood before him. "No," Brian said plainly. "But since when has that stopped you? What exactly does the great Novotny think?" "Can you stop being such an asshole for one minute and just listen to me." Michael paused, getting to his feet. "You and Justin have been through a lot. I never thought I’d say this but... why don’t you just cut the kid some slack. Give him a break, Brian. He loves you..." Michael was silent for a second before finishing his statement. "And you love him." "Yeah, well what the fuck do I know about love!" Michael’s jaw dropped slightly with Brian’s exclamation. Brian lifted his hand, pushing his hair back off his forehead. "Christ, Mikey, you more than anyone know what it was like at my house when we were kids. The only demonstration of affection I got from my old man was with his fists and Mom always stayed well out of it. I can’t even remember one time she actually gave me a hug, or made sure I was OK." "Brian, you’re not your father." Michael said to him. "Just because he was... a son of a bitch, doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to be loved. It doesn’t mean that you can’t love somebody else." Michael stepped closer. "We all love you, Brian. I love you." Michael smiled. "Always have." "Always will." Brian finished. "See Brian, even if... you don’t say it, I mean... the actual words, we know you love us. You show us all in your own way. Like... the time you gave Teddy a job when nobody else would hire him. Or when you helped Emmett to stand up for what he deserved when he was still ‘Fetch Dixon’. I can’t even list all the stuff you’ve done for me since we were kids." Michael paused. "You love Lindsay so much that you helped her have a kid. You were selfless. You were human. Christ Brian, you saved Justin’s life." "I didn’t do shit for him" Brian said. "Don’t you fucking get it, Mikey? The people who are important in my life... I either end up fucking up their lives or they fuck up mine. You’re my best friend. How many times have I said it? I don't believe in love. I believe in fucking. It's honest, it's efficient. You get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit. Love is something...." "...something that straight people tell themselves they're in so they can get laid." Michael finished Brian’s sentence. "I don’t think that’s the way it is. You sat in the hospital for three days after Justin was bashed, waiting to find out if he was gonna be OK. If you didn’t give a shit about him, then why did you sit there? Why did you stay?" Brian didn’t answer him. "For once in your life Brian... let yourself be happy." "I am happy," Brian shot. "I’m going to New York. I’m getting the fuck out of the Goddamn Pitts and I’m gonna take the city by storm." "And you think that he’s gonna be OK just watching you leave?" "He can’t come with me." Brian said "Why the fuck not?" Michael said. "He’s not a fucking baby, Brian. He’s what... almost twenty-one? I think he’s more than capable of making his own decisions." "I care about you guys... about Gus, and I’m leaving him behind." "Justin is in love with you. It’s a different type of love, Brian. You took him in when his father went off on him for being gay. You let the guy kick your ass in the middle of Liberty Avenue for Christ’s sake. And what about when you thought that Justin and I were fucking around with eachother when we started working on Rage? You were jealous Brian." "I was not jealous." "You were. You pissed all over everything. Or have you forgotten?" "Mikey, what are you doing?" Brian said. "You’re not gonna change my mind about leaving." Michael shook his head. "I’m not trying to." he said "I’m trying to change your mind about leaving him. I’m looking at you right now and I can see what you want to tell him. I know you want to say to him what you’ve never said to anyone your entire life. Tell him the truth. Tell him the real reason you wanted to leave him here. Tell him that you love him. Just tell him. He’s not going to turn on you. He’s not gonna hurt you... because he worships you, Brian. He fucking loves you." "He thinks he does." Brian turned and headed towards his practically empty bedroom. He pulled out his suitcase, continuing to toss his clothes in. "He knows nothing." "Yeah well he learned from the master, right?" Michael said, now standing in the doorway. "You need somebody to tell you that you’re loved and then you just call it bullshit and walk away. It’s not bullshit, Brian." "Mikey." he looked back at the smaller man. "I’ve gotta finish packing." "Brian..." "Mikey." Michael was silent for a moment. "At least let Justin say goodbye." He shook his head. "Somebody’s gotta know that you didn’t just drop off the face of the Earth." "Oh come on Mikey." Brian said. "I was gonna tell you." "What, from the plane?! Eighteen years and you packed up your whole fucking loft without even picking up the phone to call. You climbed through my bedroom window six nights a week when we were kids. We knew everything going on in eachother’s lives. I always ran to you and you always ran to me. About everything. What happened?" "Things changed." "What changed, Brian?" Michael said. "What changed? I’m still the same. So are you." "How can you even fucking say that Mikey?" Brian said. He paused. "Go home, Michael. Go home to the professor and the kid... and your perfect fucking little family. Let me pack so I can get the hell out of here." "There you go with the bullshit again." Michael took a deep breath. "I’ll go but first let me say this." Brian didn’t move, his back facing Michael as the smaller man crossed in front of him, looking into Brian’s eyes. "You may not think so, you may not want to, but we all love you. That never changed. It didn’t change when Ben and Hunter moved in and it never will. You’re my best friend, Brian and I want you to be happy. And... if moving to New York and working out there is what you want then I say go for it. But I know that Justin.... I know how being with him makes you feel and whether you’re here, or New York, or London... I just wish you would just... for one second, ask yourself if you could really be all that happy without him with you." Brian just stared at Michael, unable to say a word. "Have a safe flight, Brian." Michael lifted himself onto his toes to give Brian a soft kiss on the cheek, waiting for a moment before heading for the door. Brian heard the loft door slide shut, staring down at the suitcase that lay open atop his bed, and then casting his gaze aside at the boarding pass that sat on the bedside dresser. He wasn’t going soft, he thought to himself. That was the worst thing he could think of. He shook his head. He had to convince himself. No apologies, no regrets. It was the way things always were. It was the way things had to stay. He continued tossing his clothes into the bag. He was going to New York.