It had been a week since he had last seen Justin. Was he ever coming back? Brian didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. I hope that twink never comes back. He knew that was a lie. Why didn’t I just ask him to stay? But he knew why. He didn’t want to risk the chance that Justin might actually turn him down. No, it was better this way. But is he okay? Mikey had told him that Justin had cancelled their meeting. Of course Mikey went off on how irresponsible Justin was, and how he knew that Justin wasn’t sick and was probably stuck at home with a hang-over. Brian wondered if Mikey ever stopped to think before he opened his mouth. Probably not. Shaking his head, he didn’t have time to ponder over Mikey. Instead, Brian had kept himself busy at work, and at night made sure to do his usual rounds in the backroom. He had stopped bringing them home though, just in case Justin was to stop by. He didn’t want Justin to see a trick there. Not that he cared… But if Justin was upset about something and needed to talk… he wouldn’t come inside if he knew I had a trick here… Yeah, that was it. Tracing the rim of his glass with his fingertip, Brian knew he had to stop thinking about Justin. He’s just some twink. But nothing was working. Ted had jokingly pointed out to him the other day that all his tricks seemed to sharing the same gene pool: blonde hair and with blue eyes. But none of them even compare… Gulping down his drink, he stares at the crowd around him. Woody’s had lost it’s edge. It used to be a great hang out for Brian and the gang, but now it just seemed boring to him. Maybe that’s because Sunshine ain’t here… shit. He hated to admit it, but Justin could even make a morgue fun for him. Who needs him? I don’t. I don’t need anyone. Calling for another shot, he leans back against the chair. He could sense people watching him, wanting him. Of course they want me, who wouldn’t? The bitterness caught his throat as he remembers Justin leaving the loft. Was that really goodbye? But it was suppose to be like this. Justin deserved better than what Brian was offering to him. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.
The trick’s apartment was a shit hole though, that was nearly a turn-off… nearly, but not quite. His ass made up for it. He was a good fuck. Not the best. But he was good. Brian exited the elevator of his building and walked into his loft. Would there be any phone messages for him? Checking,
Mikey calling to see ‘what’s up’ and ‘hey, call me!’ Cynthia reminding him about tomorrow’s eight AM meeting. Debbie asking if he had any plans for Thanksgiving Aw fuck, is that next week? and Mikey calling again to see if he’s going to be at Babylon tomorrow night.
Rubbing his temples, he sits down on the couch and stares at the empty space where Justin’s easel once stood. Fuck. He needed to put something there. It was driving him nuts. Closing his eyes, he remembers Justin standing there, holding a charcoal pencil between his lips while highlighting his work on the canvas with a piece of white chalk.
Those eyes. Vibrant blue crystals staring at him, reading him… knowing him. Brian shakes the image away. Forget about him, Kinney. Standing back up, Brian heads to bed. Fuck him.