Unknown Name, Unknown Number
Author: Elsa Rose 
When the first call came showing unknown name unknown number, Brian didn’t bother to answer it. After all he knew everyone who he cared to talk to. He didn’t need to add more grief into his life by talking to someone he didn’t know.

The second call that Brian didn’t answer set him to thinking and speculating about the source of the call. They came off and on throughout the day. He knew this from the number of hang ups on his answering machine. Whoever called would listen to Brian’s message and then hang up. Sometimes the caller would repeat this as many as ten times before going on to something else. It was annoying to say the least to have that many hang ups recorded and Brian thought of having his number changed.

The third time unknown name unknown number came up when Brian was at home he thought he’d let his answering machine get it, though he was sitting only two feet away. He listened as his message played, and then he listened to the breathing that followed for as long as the machine would record. He was almost sure he could hear a muffled sob before the call quietly disconnected. It was the breathing though he’d never forget. You don’t sleep beside someone off and on for almost four years and not know their breathing. 

He used to listen to it for hours before falling asleep himself. It lulled him, calmed him, made him feel powerful and strong and it made him feel loved. Something he hadn’t felt since Justin had left rather than see Brian fired from his job after the Stockwell debacle. Had he stayed he would have known that Brian had quit and had gone on to defeat Stockwell in that quiet Brian Kinney way that he had. For if Brian could build you up, he could take you down. It was a gift or a curse depending on who you talked to.

The past six months had almost defeated Brian. Not that he would ever let anyone know that little piece of information. First Justin disappeared leaving him only a long letter that professed undying love but the bottom line was that he was leaving. He didn’t even give Brian the opportunity to tell him that he loved him no matter how many Stockwells loomed on the horizon.

When he was not recovering from Justin’s leaving, for he would never recover from that. You only get one love gifted to you like that in a lifetime. Brian began Kinnetic out of necessity more than desire. He had always entertained the idea of being his own boss, but he had been more comfortable receiving fat paychecks and bonuses on a regular basis. Kinnetic took on a life of it’s own and time after time Brian would pick up the phone to call Justin and tell him something great that had happened only to remember that there was no more Justin to share his triumphs and defeats with.

It was the defeats that almost, but not quite broke him. Cancer, the word that puts fear into even the strongest of men and testicular cancer even more so. For that was his manhood, his life, who he perceived himself to be all rolled up in those two balls of flesh. 

That was the tough one. That was the one where he ached to have Justin with him, holding his hand, telling him he would live to fuck again. He wanted Justin to whisper to him that he was still beautiful and to plant soft kisses on his body like he used to do. He wanted his touch, his taste, his smell. He wanted Justin. That was the one where he cried himself to sleep holding onto Justin’s pillow. Where he trashed his apartment in a fit of rage over the desertion of Justin when he was needed. Where he prayed for the day when Justin would return to him. That was the though one, the one that almost, but not quite broke Brian Kinney. 

But nothing broke him. He didn’t resort to his old pain management techniques. He continued to build up Kinnetic with the help of Cynthia and Ted. He had his loft brought back to normal with the purchase of a few choice pieces of furniture. And if those purchases had Justin’s opinion in mind, no one had to know that. He was Brian Kinney after all. He didn’t need anyone. He had himself. 

It was a lie of course. One of the very few he’d ever spoken out loud. Though the words were uttered in a fit of bravado while he stood naked in the center of his trashed loft, drink in hand. It was a lie that he knew was a lie. He knew it without being told by a blond with a soft voice and gentle fingers. He knew it without the touch of red lips on his. He knew it by the empty ache he carried with him day and night since Justin had left.

It was then, when that knowledge surfaced and threatened to engulf him, that Brian decided to change his voice message on his telephone. 

“If you are blond and five foot eight, if you have soft lips and a tender heart, if your eyes turn as blue as sapphires when you whisper my name, then don’t leave a message, just come home. I love you.” The last was whispered with love and tenderness and all the skill that Brian could produce.

Brian lay on the floor beside the answering machine waiting for unknown name unknown number. He could have waited on the new leather chaise, or reclined comfortably on the leather sofa that once again graced the loft. But until he had a certain blond back beside him, he couldn’t bring himself to use either of these purchases.

He waited through disgusted messages from Mikey; through laughing ones by Lindsay, through congratulatory ones from Deb, for Mikey had spread the word of Brian’s new phone message. There was even a moment when Brian was sure that most of gay Pittsburgh had his number. He would wait out the message and then hit erase. He wanted to make sure there was room for Justin’s answer.
And then when the phone rang, he knew without looking that unknown name unknown number was calling. His message played and there was silence and a hang up. This happened six different times. Brian held his breath through every one of the calls, waiting to hear an answer.

“I love you too” was whispered finally. Brian sat up and grabbed the phone. 

“Come home Justin. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too, but.”

“Nothing matters, just come home.”

“I, I’m at the corner.” Justin admitted.

Brian walked over to the window and looked out. Justin was huddled in the booth near the corner. “I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs. We’ll come home together.” 

Brian ran down the stairs and Justin walked slowly from the corner to the building entrance and through the door. He still couldn’t believe Brian wanted him. But when he saw the man he loved standing at the bottom of the stairs holding out his arms, he knew.


November 13, 2004