Three’s a Crowd Chapter 4 Justin had been asleep for about five hours when Brian’s own slumbers were disturbed and for a moment, he couldn’t remember why he was sleeping on the sofa. But a muffled cry from the bedroom brought him fully awake and, throwing back the blanket, he went to check on Justin. The young man’s breathing was laboured, such was the pain still in his ribs and he was mumbling. Brian couldn’t be sure what he was saying, but he thought he heard Mark’s name and for a moment, a fleeting sense of anger passed through him once more. His lover’s name was again on this young man’s lips and he asked himself repeatedly what the hell was he thinking in bringing the blond here? He should have just left him to take his chances back at his own apartment, regardless of the fact that this winter was even colder than usual and Justin obviously couldn’t afford anywhere with decent heating and a quick glance around the place had told Brian that he owned very little of any value. And then he looked again at the pain on Justin’s face and heard the muted sobs and Brian sighed; knowing full well he couldn’t just have abandoned him like that and he wondered if Mark had fooled the blond like he had him. Maybe Mark had told Justin he cared for him: making promises of love and of a future for them together. If that were the case then how could Brian be angry with him or even blame him. After all, he’d also fallen for Mark in much the same way and he could see now how Justin was shaking in his sleep, which really wasn’t surprising. As well as losing his lover, Justin might very easily have been killed or badly hurt himself. He was obviously extremely upset and probably still in shock or maybe he was feeling cold. So, pulling back the covers, Brian climbed into bed beside the young man and moved up close; wondering whether he should actually touch him and let him know he was there; that he wasn’t alone. Brian and Mark had never spooned or lay in each other’s arms after sex or just to feel close to one another. Brian had never cuddled up to anyone, but as he tried to soothe Justin with gentle words, the young man, sensing Brian’s presence though still asleep, slowly rolled towards him and now lay with his head on Brian’s chest. Brian swallowed, unable to decide how he was feeling; such was his confusion about their situation. But it seemed to him the young man needed comforting; maybe they both did and Brian brought his arm around Justin’s shoulders and, before long, both men were asleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin had woken at first light and, in doing so, also woke Brian. The blond had looked embarrassed; waking up with the older man and for a moment, Justin’s heart missed a beat. Brian was so like Mark that for a just a minute he thought the man was still alive, only to realise he was in the arms of a virtual stranger, in an unfamiliar bed. Their eyes held each other’s for what seemed an eternity until Justin spoke at last. “I’m sorry … I …” he stuttered, trying to recall the events that had led him there. “It’s okay,” answered Brian. “It doesn’t mean anything … you were … well, pretty out of it last night … I’ll go and put on some coffee” and he threw back the covers and got out of bed and padded, bare-footed, to the kitchen. Waking up and finding himself in bed with the young man, for a moment, Brian had wondered how he got there and then he remembered. But other memories also came back to him. Like how good it had been to hold him: to feel the softness of his skin, the silkiness of the blond hair and to feel Justin’s breath on his chest. And he wondered why it was he’d never held Mark in that way, but the very fact that he’d enjoyed being so close to Justin brought a wave of guilt flowing over him; a feeling that Brian found bewildering and he pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he tried to put a few feet of distance between him and the blond to give him time to get his head together. Justin tried to sit up; probably a little too quickly, in order to take in his surroundings and his head pounded a little and the pain in his ribs still made breathing difficult, so he lay back against the pillows and he could hear Brian moving around in the kitchen. The man was beautiful; even hotter than Mark and, on impulse, he stretched out his hand to feel the warmth of the bed where Brian had been lying. But then his heart lurched into his mouth and he remembered again his lover lying dead in the hospital bed and he tried desperately to keep it together. “How are you doing?” Brian asked him, several minutes later, as he put the coffee cup down on the nightstand and Justin opened his eyes and rubbed his temple. “My head’s better … it’s still there a little … but not like it was … my ribs still hurt like hell though,” said Justin, attempting to sit up again and this time he made it without his head hurting too much and, so that he didn’t have to stretch, Brian passed him his coffee cup. “Thanks,” said Justin, taking the cup and their fingers brushed slightly as the cup was transferred from one to another and both men fought to hide the reaction they both felt at the exchange; one of confusion and the tantalising nearness of the other man. Brian withdrew in order to stand at the foot of the bed. “I’m glad you’re feeling better … do you get the bad heads often?” he asked him and carefully, Justin shook his head. “Not like I used to … only if I get … only if there’s anything heavy going on” and Brian nodded. “I hadn’t realised you were the kid that got bashed … that was rough” “Tell me about it” answered Justin and he took a swallow from his cup. “The other kid … is it right he only got community service?” asked Brian and Justin nodded. “That sucks,” replied the older man and Justin shrugged. “The Judge said he must have been provoked … like I wanted my head caved in …” and Justin closed his eyes and sighed at the memory and injustice done to him. “I’m sorry about last night,” apologised Justin again and Brian hesitated, wondering if this was an opportunity to ask about his relationship with Mark and holding his own coffee cup, Brian sat down at the bottom of the bed. “Debbie said you had an accident?” asked Brian, taking a sip of coffee and Justin closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah … my … my boyfriend was killed …” and his voice trailed off and he fought to keep his emotions in check; not wanting to fall apart in front of Brian and unknowing how he’d given himself away in his sleep. “That’s rough,” answered Brian and his heart were beating so fast he thought Justin would surely hear it. “Were you together long?” he asked but the blond slowly shook his head. “No … not really. I met Mark a few years back … but we didn’t get together again until a couple of months ago …” Brian looked down into his cup and his heart missed a beat when he heard Justin say Mark’s name out loud and he sighed. Surely at that time, he’d been with Mark. But obviously he hadn’t been enough for the man and Mark had sought comfort, or sex, or whatever, with the blond as well as being with him. But the young man obviously had no idea he’d been sharing Mark with someone with whom he was supposed to be in a serious relationship; serious enough to consider moving in together and planning a future. It would be easy to blame Justin, but Brian was sure he was the innocent in all this. Naïve maybe: but surely unaware of the fact that his lover was deeply involved with another man. They’d both been cheated on; how could he blame Justin for something that wasn’t his fault. For Brian was sure that Justin had no idea that the bed he’d slept in was one Brian had shared with Mark; that there had, in fact, been three people in their relationship. Any animosity Brian may have felt towards the young blond disappeared in the acknowledgement of his innocence. If for one moment, Justin had known of Brian’s existence there was no way he could have hidden it from him, either in the despair he’d seen in him last night or by way of their casual conversation and the ease in which he’d mentioned Mark’s name. As far as Justin was concerned, he obviously had nothing to hide or to feel guilty about. “Is it okay if I take a shower?” asked Justin. “Then I can get out of your way …” and he swallowed the last of his coffee. “You don’t have to rush off,” assured Brian. “You can stay a while. That place of yours is pretty cold … have you thought about getting somewhere else?” Justin sighed; how many times had Mark offered to find him somewhere better, the inference being that he would pay. But Justin didn’t want to be a kept man; he valued his independence. It was his affirmation that he could cope on his own following the bashing and he wasn’t going to give up that independence lightly. “It’s all I can afford at the moment,” he replied and, having finished his coffee, Justin slowly reached out and placed the cup on the nightstand. Having put down the cup he started to rub his right hand. Cramping in his hand always followed one of his headaches, but hopefully, this wouldn’t last too long. “What’s going on with that?” asked Brian; taking a swallow from his cup and watching as the young man flexed his fingers. “It’s the motor skills … after I got bashed I couldn’t even pick up a paperclip. It took weeks of therapy before I could even think about using a pencil …” and he looked at Brian and saw the question in his eyes. “I’m an artist,” explained Justin. “Or at least I was … I still am … maybe. That’s how I met Mark … he manages … he managed the art gallery here in Pittsburgh …” and Brian nodded and forced a sympathetic smile. At least there was an explanation now of the link between Mark and Justin: Gallery Manager and artist. Obviously that was how they’d come together; through a shared passion for art that had led to a passion for each other. And Brian closed his eyes and wondered at the logic of it all. It actually all made perfect sense. Throwing back the covers, Justin got slowly to his feet and stood still for a few moments; getting his balance. “You gonna make it okay?” asked Brian, automatically stretching out a steadying hand, which he placed in the small of Justin’s back. “Yeah … thanks … I’ll be fine,” answered Justin and he’d taken a quick breath at the physical contact and moved away from Brian’s touch and, recognising his holdall on the floor, he stooped slowly to pick it up. “I’m not going anywhere,” said Brian, “so you can take your time … oh and don’t worry about Debbie … she’ll hold your job for you,“ and, with a slight smile, Justin turned to go in the bathroom: closing the door behind him and grateful for being able to remove himself from the older man’s gaze. Brian watched him go and then, as he swallowed the last of his cold coffee, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and he went to find out who was calling at this hour. Sliding open the heavy metal door, he discovered Lindsay standing there, having stopped by on the way to taking Gus to day care. But instead of inviting her in, Brian instead stepped outside, pulling the door almost closed behind him and Lindsay’s eyes narrowed, wondering why he would prevent her from entering the loft. “I can’t stay too long … Mel and Gus are waiting downstairs,” explained Lindsay. “But I thought I’d call by and see if you’re okay,” she stated and Brian nodded. “I’m fine Lindz … really … I am” but he made no move to invite her in. Lindsay tried to look passed him into the loft, but Brian didn’t move out of her way and now Lindsay swore she could hear the shower running. “You’ve got someone with you” she stated in surprise. “Christ, Brian … Mark’s not even cold …” “It’s not like that,” insisted Brian. “No?” asked Lindsay. “Well, then … what is it like?” she demanded. “It… it’s Justin,” said Brian quietly and Lindsay frowned. “Justin?” she repeated, trying to recall whom Brian was meaning as he obviously thought she would know who he was talking about. “Yeah … you know,” stated Brian, “the young guy who works at the diner” and Lindsay looked at him, unable to hide her disappointment. “Brian … how could you …” “Lindsay, I’m telling you … it’s not what you think. He … he had an accident … he wasn’t too good for a while … I just let him stay here last night … that’s all”. “Another accident?” queried Lindsay, and Brian looked away and she studied his face. “No,” said Lindsay, reading Brian’s expression. “It wasn’t another accident … was it? But I thought Mark had been on his way back from the airport after one of his trips to New York …” and Brian closed his eyes as the meaning of his silence dawned on Lindsay. “Brian… how can you let him stay here?” she asked him. “It’s not his fault that his boyfriend cheated on him,” stated Brian. “Mark didn’t cheat on Justin,” corrected Lindsay in disbelief. “Mark cheated on you … how can you defend him like that?” “I’m not defending him,” said Brian; jumping in a little too quickly, but Lindsay could always see straight through him. “Oh my God,” said his friend at last, breaking the silence that had developed between them. “You’ve got feelings for him …” “No I haven’t … don’t be ridiculous,” insisted Brian, but Lindsay’s eyes narrowed as she read the confusion on his face. “Christ, Brian … I hope you know what you’re doing,” stated Lindsay and then, without a further word, Brian opened the door and he retreated back into the loft: leaving Lindsay standing outside alone. For the next ten minutes, Brian occupied himself checking his emails; trying to decide what he was going to do. He’d more or less told Justin he could stay at the loft as long as he needed, but how long was that likely to be and could he stand him being there and not blurt out his own relationship with Mark? Should he instead try and go into work, or just take himself out and leave the young man to rest further? Or, should he tell Justin of the relationship they shared; destroying once and for all any faith the young man had in Mark and what they’d meant to each other? After all, his own faith had been so completely destroyed; but could he do that to another and someone in such obvious pain? But the strange thing was, Brian had virtually discounted his own pain since taking charge of Justin. And was Lindsay right? Was it possible that he did have feelings for the young blond? Is that why he’d brought him here, even after he was sure he’d been sleeping with Mark behind his back? Or was it just that he was a link with Mark; a connection that Brian didn’t want to lose just yet? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Following his shower, Justin had more colour in his complexion although he was still favouring his ribs and, now dressed, he made his way down to the living room. “Well, you look a whole lot better,” said Brian, trying to give the young man a lift and he got up from the computer. “Yeah … thanks … I feel it,” Justin answered him, but the expression on his face didn’t fit his words: he looked anything but fine. “There’s some juice in the fridge and there should be some bread if you wanna make yourself some toast … I’ll go and grab a shower myself,” said Brian and he excused himself and headed for the bathroom. Justin made his way to the kitchen and found the guava juice in the refrigerator and he poured himself a glass. Then he heard the water running and the temptation was just far too great. Brian hadn’t closed the bathroom door; he rarely needed to and now Justin quietly crossed the floor and climbed the steps. Peering around the bathroom door, he could see the man in the shower; his back towards him and Justin was able to take in Brian’s beautifully long legs, his small, perfect ass and the definition of his body; not overly muscular, but wonderfully toned and slim. And then Justin bit his lip. How could he sully Mark’s memory by admiring another man’s body when his lover was barely cold? And filled with guilt, Justin returned to the living room. How long should he stay there? Was the man’s invitation genuine? Was he just being polite? Or was there some other motive? He was sure Brian had caught his awkwardness around him; at the diner and before, when he’d discovered he’d slept in the man’s arms. But surely he wasn’t thinking of making a move on him. No: he was just being extremely kind, generous and compassionate and Justin was very grateful. The last thing he wanted to do right now was return to an empty, freezing apartment on his own, but then, in a matter of seconds, his world was thrown into even more disarray. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Brian stepped out of the stall and started to towel himself down, wishing he’d brought clean clothes into the bathroom with him. Not that he was prudish, heaven forbid! but whilst he was in the shower, he’d caught movement out of the corner of his eye and realised Justin had been watching him and, although the younger man obviously knew nothing about his relationship with Mark, he wondered if the blond was as confused about his feelings as he was. It must have been pretty full on, Brian decided, for the young man to wake up and find himself in Brian’s bed; sleeping in his arms, but the last thing Brian needed was some grieving and heartbroken guy; someone not much more than just a kid; confusing compassion and kindness for something stronger and Brian cursed himself. Christ, he was getting soft! If this what having consideration for someone else’s feelings meant, something Brian had struggled with but discovered had to happen if you wanted a partnership to work, then he’d have to watch his step. He was confused enough without getting into anything with Justin and Brian caught his breath; was he actually already considering the possibility of another relationship? No: No way. Not another relationship: ever. Just fucking: getting in and out with the minimum of bullshit and the maximum of pleasure, that’s what it would be from now on. He was never going back there; having someone as his partner. That was for the Munchers or Ben and Michael. He’d got his fingers burned; he’d done with repeat performances. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Pulling on the sweats he’d slept in, Brian stepped outside the bathroom and looked for Justin, but he was nowhere to be seen. He’d gone, taking his holdall with him. Grabbing a sweater and putting it on hurriedly, but still barefooted, Brian ran quickly down into the street and looked for him, but the young man was nowhere to be seen and it was far too cold to hang around. Confused as to Justin’s sudden departure, Brian returned to the loft and noticed the message light flashing on his answerphone; the phone must have gone whilst he was in the shower and he hadn’t heard it and he pressed the Play button. ‘Brian … it’s Margaret. I wanted to let you know that Mark’s funeral is scheduled for Tuesday … and … as … his partner … I’m really hoping you’ll want to be involved in the service. I know how difficult this must be for you … it is for all of us … Anyway, I think they’ll be a lot of people there … more than I expected … Mark had a lot of friends … especially connected to the gallery … so … please call me so that we can fix a time to meet up and discuss the arrangements and I just wanted to assure you that we wouldn’t dream of excluding you … you were too important to Mark for us to do that. I hope to hear from you soon ...’ Justin must have heard the message and realised that the Mark mentioned was the same man he’d been involved with; the same man they’d both been involved with. Otherwise, why would he run away like that and Brian closed his eyes, hoping to God the young man was going to be okay. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin couldn’t face going into the diner and so he rang and told Debbie he’d understand if she didn’t want to hold his job for him, but the truth was he was getting pretty desperate for money. The art show was in just over a week’s time and he hoped that maybe he’d sell one of his pictures, but for the moment, he couldn’t risk running into Brian again. Debbie always seemed to know when there was something going on under the surface and had coaxed out of him that the man he’d gone to New York with had been killed in the accident. She told him to stay away for a few more days and not to worry and reassured him that she’d keep his job open for him. Her heart had gone out to the young man who’d already endured more tragedy in his young life than most people and she wanted to help him as much as she could. Justin thanked her and put down the phone; not sure if that’s the answer he really wanted. After all, all it did was prolong the decision he had to make: to give up his job altogether or to return to the diner and face Brian. When he’d heard the message left on Brian’s answer phone, Justin’s whole world had collapsed around him. Not only had he lost his lover, but it would seem the man who’d come to his rescue had been in a relationship with him also. Even more than that, the woman had referred to Brian as Mark’s partner. But Justin had begun to think that he was Mark’s lover and partner and then he realised how little he really knew about Mark’s life. Mark had taken him to the gallery in New York; miles away from Pittsburgh, but back home, it dawned on him that they never ventured outside the bedroom, either his or Mark’s. Was that all Mark had seen in him, he wondered? Was he just a piece of blond ass: a diversion away from his true relationship with Brian? If Brian hadn’t been on the scene, would he have had Mark all to himself? Probably not, Justin concluded and now doubted whether Mark could ever have loved just one man. But maybe he’d loved them both in his own way and Justin could see the attraction in Brian, having decided he was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen that time when he’d come into the diner. And, when he’d woken up and realised it wasn’t Mark who’d been holding him; comforting him, why had Brian done that? Was it some perverse way of getting back at him for cheating with Mark? Would Brian have told him the truth about his and Mark’s relationship, or would he have continued asking Justin about his boyfriend, all the while knowing the young man had been sleeping with his own lover? Justin’s head was swimming. Brian had seemed concerned about him, which at the time seemed so genuine, but now he wasn’t so sure and the fact that Mark had been so deeply involved with another, cut Justin to the quick. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The day of the funeral finally arrived, and the service had been very well attended, by Brian’s friends, as well as Mark’s friends and family; and Brian had said his piece, all the time wondering if the blond was okay. He’d not been able to get Justin out of his head and had even gone to the diner looking for the blond and, discovering he hadn’t been back there, casually enquired about him. Debbie had said he was taking a few days off; “Poor Kid, seems like his boyfriend was killed,” she’d told Brian, putting her hand on his and Brian had nodded his understanding. Driving home, Brian had taken a detour and found himself standing outside Justin’s door and, hearing music playing quietly inside, he knocked. There was no answer but the music was suddenly switched off. “Justin … it’s Brian … Brian Kinney. I know you’re there … won’t you open the door?” After several minutes and still no response, Brian reached inside his jacket pocket and took out a business card and a pen. “Here’s the details of Mark’s funeral … in case you decide you want to go,” Brian called to him, through the closed door and he wrote on the card the time and place of both the service and then the burial and he bent down and pushed the card under the door. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Now, standing at the graveside for the burial, Brian was sure he’d seen a figure right on the edge of the group; almost hiding behind one of the larger tombstones and, after Mark had been laid to rest and everyone had made their way back to the cars, Brian made an excuse to return to the graveside, in time to find Justin laying his own small bunch of flowers and he looked so lost and alone. “Justin …” the sound of Brian’s voice startled him and the young man got up quickly and started to walk away. Brian took a few hurried steps and caught up with him easily; Justin’s ribs preventing him from moving any faster and Brian took him by the arm. “You don’t have to run away from me …” he told him and Justin stopped and turned to face him and Brian noticed how pale and tired he looked. “How are you?” asked Brian quietly. “Okay … I guess,” answered Justin. “You?” “About the same,” replied Brian and he looked away; an uncomfortable silence now between them. “I didn’t know …” Justin told him eventually and Brian nodded. “Neither did I,” he replied, looking back at him. “Are you coming to the house?” asked Brian. “We’re going back to Mark’s sister’s …” but Justin shook his head. “Why not?” continued Brian, “you’ve as much right to be there as I have …” “No I haven’t,” replied Justin in amazement at the other man’s attitude. “You were his partner …” “And you were his lover,” answered Brian. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Who’s that with Brian?” asked Michael. The gang had all come to support Brian and were standing by the remaining cars; waiting for him to return so they could all go on to Margaret’s and Michael shielded his eyes against the bright winter sun. Debbie peered in the direction of Mark’s grave and frowned in puzzlement. “It looks like Justin … what the hell’s he doing here? He hasn’t turned up for work the last few days … he said his boyfriend had been killed … maybe it’s his funeral too …” and she looked around trying to identify another group of mourners, but then suddenly the penny dropped and Lindsay’s look confirmed it. “Holy shit … Justin was seeing Mark too?” asked Debbie and Lindsay nodded slowly and Melanie moved in and linked her arm through her partner’s in support of her. Lindsay was certainly no gossip and hadn’t intended to pass on information that should only come from Brian, but maybe it would be easier if the truth came out this way, rather than their friend having to tell them; face to face. “You mean Mark was cheating on Brian … and with that little asshole?” asked Michael; angry at how his friend must be feeling at discovering the truth about his partner and the young blond. “Come on Michael,” said Ben, putting his arm around his partner’s shoulders. “We don’t know the full circumstances and Brian seems to be handling himself okay … doesn’t look like he’s particularly angry at Justin or anything. Maybe we should wait and hear the full story before we start condemning people?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Brian had eventually worn him down and, at last, Justin agreed to go back to the house and together they now approached the group waiting by the remaining cars. “Justin’s coming with us,” announced Brian; his tone leaving no room for discussion, but he saw the exchanged glances and guessed that Lindsay had let on and he threw her a withering glance and Lindsay tried to smile. Then Debbie, Lindsay, Melanie, Brian and Justin took one car and Michael, Ben, Ted and Emmett the other; all of them exchanging looks as the young blond took his seat next to Brian. Thankfully, with Debbie in the car, there was no awkward silences; and though respectful of the occasion, she was able to keep a conversation of sorts going, addressing each of them in turn; attempting to bring everyone into the dialogue, but she couldn’t fail to notice how Brian and Justin never spoke directly to one another and how Brian mostly just looked out of the window. Justin hesitated getting out of the car, but taking him by the elbow, Brian steered him passed the group and inside to meet Margaret. Margaret and Brian kissed as she came to greet them and then Brian introduced the young blond by his side. “Margaret, I’d like you to meet Justin Taylor. Justin’s an artist and was … a very good friend of Mark’s,” and Justin glanced up at him, thankful that he’d not described him as anything more and hadn’t used this occasion to humiliate either him or Mark. Margaret took Justin by the hand and greeted him warmly. “I’m so pleased you could make it,” she told him. “Mark does seem to have so many wonderful friends …” and now she took him further into the room and introduced him to a group of people associated with the gallery. Brian ran his fingers through his hair as Debbie came to stand by his side. “That was very generous …” she said to him quietly and Brian looked down at her and they each took a glass of sherry from a waiter making his way through the crowded room. “Lindsay …” stated Brian and Debbie nodded. “She didn’t let on deliberately, Brian … but seeing you and Justin together at Mark’s graveside … it just sort of came out …” “It’s not his fault,” continued Brian at last and he sighed. “I need a real drink …” and putting down the untouched glasses on a nearby table, they went to find the refreshments. And as Justin was talking to some of Mark’s friends from the gallery, he glanced over at Brian and caught the man’s eye: They both smiled. To be continued.