Thanks to muffin_donat2007 for the beautiful banner, and our beta's. Also, thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Justin's POV Brian's words floor me, but after a moment, I shrug it off as orgasmic bliss. So I don't reply to his words. I just slowly remove myself off of Brian, and then lie down next to him. My chest hurts, but fuck it. I just had the best fucking sex of my life. I hadn't let someone inside of me in so long, that it hurt like hell at first. But then everything started to feel good. As I lie next to Brian, catching my breath, I glance at the clock on my bedside table. It's 2 AM, and I sigh softly, not wanting to get up. I need to. I need to shower, call Michelle, and then work on my paintings. Slowly, I get up and leave the bed. I know Brian's watching me, but I don't say anything. I grab some clean clothes, and then open the door to the bathroom that's connected to my room. I walk inside, toss my clothes onto the toilet, and then take my shower. When I get out, it's thirty minutes later. I dress once more, and then clean up my mess. Walking back into my room, I notice Brian still lying there. This time though, he's looking around my room. He's looking at my walls, which are covered with some of my artwork. When he looks at me again, I'm pulling a pack of cigarettes from my bedside table drawer. "I'm going for a smoke, and to make a call. If you're hungry, there's food in the fridge." I slip my cell phone, cigarettes, and lighter, into my jeans pocket. Then I continue. "There's also beer, or anything else you can think of, to drink. Feel free to take a shower, or look around if you want. I'll be back in a few minutes." When Brian nods, I leave my room, and then walk to the door. I unlock the door, and then open and close it silently. When I'm outside, I pull out a cigarette, and my lighter. I light up, and take a puff, while putting my pack and lighter away once more. After three puffs on my cigarette, I pull my cell phone back out, and call Michelle. She's one of those people who lives on coffee, and never sleeps. I continue to smoke my cigarette, while waiting for her to pick up her phone. Michelle's phone rings 5 times. Then she finally picks up. She gripes at me for twenty minutes, on how I've gotten so lax about calling her. I ask how everything is going for the show, since I won't be able to attend it. When she starts trying to butter me up, I know that something is very wrong. As I ask Michelle what's wrong, the door of my apartment opens, and out steps Brian. I smile at him, and then freeze at my agent's words. When I speak, I hate the fact that my voice is panicked. "How many?" I fall silent for a moment. Then Michelle tells me that the gallery broke six frames that were holding my paintings, and that about twenty of my paintings never showed up. I sigh, unable to believe that this is happening to me, a mere three days before my show. Running a hand over my face, I tell her, "Cancel the show." Michelle tries to argue, but I repeat myself. "Michelle, just cancel the fucking show. Half of my fucking work didn't show up, and like you said, six of the frames are fucking broken. Just fucking cancel it." I snap my cell phone shut, my anger flowing through me in waves. Now I have to find another gallery to host my art, find the paintings that never showed up, and get the six messed up frames fixed. I feel like I'm about to lose it, when Brian suddenly speaks. "That didn't sound too good. What happened? Someone fucked something up?" I laugh at his question. Not at Brian, but his question. I didn't mean to laugh, but it's either that, or hurt somebody. And since the people who fucked everything up aren't around, I'll have to settle for laughing, instead of going ahead and losing my mind. When I'm finally able to calm down, I explain what happened to Brian. "Twenty of my paintings never showed up at the gallery where my show was to be held. As for the eight that did, six of the frames broke, and I can't even be there to fix everything. So I'm canceling my show." Brian is silent for a moment, and then he asks, "Are you sure that there's no way, for everything will be fixed and ready for your show, by the day your show is scheduled to happen?" I feel myself falling into hysteria, but I pull myself away from that ledge just in time. "A lot goes into putting together an art show. Many people think it takes only two people, but it takes anywhere from at least twenty to fifty people. That's not including all of the artists, the companies we pay to help serve everything, the press, and anything and everything else." I can't stop another frustrated sigh from escaping. "This is fucking insane. I'm not gonna think about that shit right now. There's already enough going on." I finish my cigarette, and so I drop it on the ground. I step on it, to make sure the bud is out. Then I motion for Brian to follow me, and I lead the way back inside. As we walk back inside, I realize that Jamie will be up soon. When both of us are back inside, I close and lock the door. "Sorry you had to hear that. I just hate it when people are careless with my work." I sigh softly and then continue. "It takes me fucking hours to finish one painting, and they lost twenty of them. I should fucking sue, but they better be happy that I don't." Trying to calm myself, I push away thoughts of my ruined art show, and I remember something else. Brian and I go back to my room, and I change the sheets and everything. I toss them in the washer, and then put new covering on the bed. We get back into the bed, and then I say, "We need to talk about what happened the first time we fucked."