Dinner was a grand affair. Each course was served with a different vintage of champagne. It didn’t take long for the Americans to realize that they were outmatched both in sophistication and capacity. It was a new experience to have the meal continuing course after course, a part of the evening but the conversation the real focal point. None of the members of the Kinnetik team had ever had a business dinner quite like this.

It was obvious that before the night was out that the team members would have a new appreciation for each other and a greater understanding of the strengths each member brought to the team.

Brian found himself unable to ignore Franck Villibord throughout the night. Time and again the two men exchanged heated looks as the unfulfilled interlude from the afternoon hung heavy between them. As the night wore on Brian found it more of a nuisance than anything else as he struggled to keep his attention focused on Justin.
Twice he’d felt Justin’s eyes on him as Franck and he had exchanged sexual leers. Brian felt a twinge of guilt but then immediately rationalized it away, after all it was Justin who was choosing to place their relationship on hold, not Brian. Brian felt certain that if and when Justin chose to let him back into his life that Brian’s days of playing the sexual predator would be over.
Brian had turned the Frenchman down earlier but as the night ebbed into the morning and the champagne continued, Brian realized his resolve was slipping. On some level he realized the desire was based partly upon his own frustration. He and Justin seemed to be getting nowhere. Even though Brian felt confident that he would land the client, he couldn’t help but believe that he would always consider the trip an utter failure. His objectives far exceeded merely landing another client for his firm.
Laurence Villibord spent most of the night discussing Justin’s work at the gallery in Paris. The owner was an old friend and she knew that he was currently looking for another person for his modern collections. She felt certain after seeing Justin’s promising talent that he would be the right person for that position and volunteered her support in helping him acquire it.

Brian resented her meddling and felt a renewed apprehension that perhaps given Justin’s chaotic emotional state the blond might just jump at the chance. Justin feigned interest mainly to keep the woman from asking why he had no intentions of returning to Paris. The gap between the two men seemed to widen throughout the night leaving both feeling both frustrated and resolved to accept what seemed an inevitable outcome.
For the first time since Brian had found the blond again, the brunet discovered that he was beginning to have real doubts as to what, if any, future they had together. He’d hoped that the innocent flirtation between he and Franck Villibord would at the very least spark some reaction from the blond, but instead the leers seemed to be having the opposite effect as the air between he and Justin chilled by twenty plus degrees.

As the night wore on there were toasts and stories, mainly legends of the area, told deep into the night. There was both laughter and sorrow as some of the tales were of love and of loss. Justin listened remembering several of the stories whispered in the deep dark of the night from lips now grown cold. He ached each time he thought of Andy and the melodramatic flare he used in recounting the tales.

Finally as the hour crept into the wee hours of the morning a spring drizzle began to fall calling an end to the night’s festivities as everyone reluctantly retreated to their rooms.

Brian walked along side Justin as they quietly made their way through the elaborate garden leading up to their cottage. By the time they reached their door the drizzle had transitioned into a light rain, but neither man seemed to mind. It was as if the cold wet rain drops were the only reminder that they were both still capable of feeling something, something simple and uncomplicated.
“I can get lost.” Justin offered as they reached the front door. He glanced back as though expecting someone to be following them. Brian followed his gaze then turned back reading the other man’s thoughts.

“I’m not going to fuck him Justin.” Brian declared, his irritation at the suggestion evident.

“It’s okay.” Justin assured him. “I mean I know you have to be frustrated and from the way you two were looking at each other, I just assumed--”

“It didn’t mean anything.” Brian explained wondering if he should confess about the way they’d gone after one another earlier in the vineyard. Watching Justin closely he decided against it. “I think I’ve made it perfectly clear who it is that I want.” Brian stepped closer running his hand up Justin’s arm. “I’m just not sure if I’ll ever have him again.” He added softly hating the insecurity in his voice.

“Really? I thought you wanted that brave kid.” Justin replied moving out of Brian’s touch as he entered the living room. Brian stood considering the hand that Justin had just shrugged off. There had been a time between them when Justin would never have voluntarily broken their connection. Now Brian realized it was he that sought physical contact, no matter how small, any connection that Justin might allow.

“You are that--” Brian began to argue wearily.

“No Brian.” Justin interrupted exasperatingly. “I’m not.” The younger man paused trying to regain his composure.

“Justin--” Brian tried once more.

“No Brian, there are a few facts that you need to face. One of which is that I will never be the man you cared for back then.” Justin explained calmly. “I feel like you are hanging around waiting for him to show back up, but let me assure you that he won’t.” Brian considered Justin’s words. On some level Brian had known that this was true months ago, but somehow had managed to ignore that reality.

“I’ve known that.” Brian confessed softly turning away from two piercing blue eyes so that he could stare into the fire that was now roaring before them both, warming the chilled room.

“This is me, Brian. This is how I am. I’m a moody, dark son-of-a-bitch. I’m impossible to be with and I know that.” Justin cleared his throat. He continued on his voice now holding an apologetic tone. “I think it’s you that needs to decide whether or not you want to waste anymore time trying to fix someone who is destined to be permanently altered by the circumstances of his fucked up existence.”

“Justin, you’re still grieving.” Brian argued.

“Am I?” Justin asked. “Or is this just as good as it gets?” He asked his own frustration bleeding through. Brian rolled his lips into his mouth unsure of what else to say. He didn’t know if this was it, he hoped not, but he honestly didn’t know. Could he stay with a self loathing Justin, a self destructive, haunted man who couldn’t let go of the pain from his past long enough to enjoy any of the joy in their future? A man who had failed in one relationship and therefore assumed he had nothing to offer in another. Brian struggled to reconcile this man with the other he’d once known who had bravely pulled the older man into a commitment.

Justin considered the handsome strong man as the light from the fire danced playfully across his face. He wondered what thoughts were causing the furrows in Brian’s brow. Surely they had something to do with Franck Villibord. He had picked up on the looks and the sexual tension between Franck Villibord and Brian. It only stood to reason that Brian would wind up with Franck sometime during this weekend.

Watching the two men, Justin had immediately felt his old insecurities spring to life but had quickly squashed them in the face of reality. Brian was a highly sexual individual. He needed sex like others needed food and water. The older man was no longer getting it from Justin so why shouldn’t Brian fuck Franck? Justin knew he had no hold on the man. If truth were to be told, he knew he had never had that kind of hold on this man.

Justin knew he was a disappointment to the older man. He knew what Brian wanted. He wanted things to be as they had been but that chance had disappeared the day Andy had been diagnosed. Now it felt as though they were merely playing in ashes.

Wanting to give Brian the opportunity to get his needs met Justin quietly excused himself and headed up to their bedroom.

Brian watched the blond ascend the narrow stairway. He wanted to follow but felt certain that Justin needed some time alone. Brian was more than happy to allow it given his own suddenly need for some serious re-evaluation.
So Justin wasn’t going to come back. When that loft door had slammed almost four years earlier, the brave blond had disappeared into a dark Pittsburgh night never to return. That thought saddened Brian as he moved back to the couch.

Taking a seat he leaned down resting his head in his hands. He wasn’t going to cry. He hadn’t cried since the night he’d learned that Justin had gone to Paris. That had been years ago. He’d allowed himself one night to grieve what he’d lost then the next morning he’d thrown himself into his work forcing himself to forget about his brief brush with happiness.

Wiping his eyes, Brian sniffed as he lifted his head. His gaze landed upon the sketches still innocently lying on the coffee table. He reached for them and stared at his own hard, arrogant eyes. Brian crumpled the page into a ball unable to stand the sight of himself. Those were the eyes of the man who had slowly killed the brave young blond, that was the man who had felt it necessary to make a point with the blond about the triviality of love, the ridiculous nature of gays being in long term relationships and the ultimate strategy for survival, that of pure and simple emotional isolationism.

“You fucking son-of-a-bitch.” Brian hissed wadding up the paper tighter in his fist, fully understanding now why Andy had shredded this sketch. Surely Andy had realized, as Brian did now, that it had been this man, this Stud of Liberty Avenue, who had managed to rob Justin of any hope for happiness.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Go after him.” Michael ordered over the hard driving beat of the music. Brian continued to stare out at the dance floor desperately hiding the hollow ache that he felt realizing that Justin wasn’t there, but instead was an ocean away.

“He made his choice.” Brian yelled back. “He’s better off.” He added not quite as loud.

“Really? You think he’s better off?” Michael spat incredulously. “He loves you, but he’s better off a million miles away in Paris.”

“Remind me to buy you an atlas.” Brian quipped.

“Fuck you!” Michael sat his beer on the bar and moved to the door. Brian sighed rolling his eyes as he slammed his shot then quickly followed. He’d already lost Justin, he couldn’t afford to lose Michael as well.

“Mikey.” Brian reached out once he’ d caught up to the smaller man in the alley. He pulled him back into his arms and whispered hotly against his ear. “Don’t be mad.” Michael sighed. It was so hard to watch his best friend throw his one chance at happiness away.

“He loves you Brian.” He turned gazing into hazel eyes that were revealing more than perhaps they ever had. Michael paused. “You love him too.” He observed. “This is fucking killing you.” He added. Brian rolled his lips into his mouth refusing to respond. “Then go after him.” Michael encouraged.

“What would that change? I’m not what he wants.” Brian observed. Michael realized then that Brian had considered going to Paris but had come to the conclusion that it would do no good.

“You are though.” Michael argued.

“He wants things that I can’t give.” Brian offered.

“Can’t or won’t?” Michael pressed. Once more Brian didn’t respond. “He loves you Brian, really fucking loves you.”

“That’s obvious by the way he walked out on me AGAIN.” Brian’s anger was evident in those words.

“He was a kid the first time. He was a stupid kid recovering from a horrific event.” Michael defended the blond. “Besides I would have left you too if you’d let other men suck my cock and refused to give a shit about it.” Brian raised one eyebrow surprised to learn now that Justin had discussed his unhappiness with Michael before leaving with Ethan. “I told him you’d never change.” Michael uttered the weak confession.

“And you were right.” Brian offered his absolution.

“No I wasn’t. You have changed. He changed you.” Michael argued.

“People don’t change people.” Brian shook his head. “You’re so--”

“Pathetic.” Michael smiled. “I know, but I’m also right. You should do after him.”

“He’s better off without me. It’s time that he got on with his life and I got back to mine.” Brian pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“Are you buying any of this shit?” Michael asked sincerely pissed off at his friend’s conclusion. Brian glanced up then back down as he lit up. A lean brunet walked past the two men giving Brian a familiar look as he did so.

“Got to go Mikey. Places to go; men to fuck.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Brian knew he was hurting. He knew that the best thing that had ever happened to him had just walked out of his life. He knew things would never be as vivid now, the colors duller, the laughter softer, the sex less satisfying. His whole existence had gone from vibrant to muted in a single moment. He could still hear the sound of the loft door closing, it echoed in his head.

The facts were that Justin had left. Justin wasn’t coming back. Second chances were rare but they did still happen. Unfortunately, he and Justin were on their third or fourth chance by now and those never occurred. It was over. It was devastatingly painful, empty, hollow, but more than anything else just over.

Thus was the story of a fucked up man who was raised in a fucked up house by fucked up people who made it a point to tell him everyday how incredibly unlovable and fucked up he was. Brian found himself veering away from the man he’d left Michael to follow and instead moving toward his jeep. He had no real interest in fucking anyone tonight. He’d fucked himself and that was enough.

He wandered up the stairs into his loft his mind still lingering over memories of his lost blond. How many times had Justin come back to him? How many times had he hammered away at Brian’s resolve to remain untouched, no strings, no false illusions of lasting love? As he slumped onto his couch Brian realized that he missed the one thing that Justin had given him that he’d never found with anyone else. The one thing that he’d never believed possible. He missed feeling loved.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.

Brian sat for a long time, the crackling and popping of the logs reminding him that the fire was slowly dying. He was just melancholy enough to draw the comparison of the fire in the hearth to the one that had sparked to life so long ago on the night he’d met Justin.

Looking at the familiar images on the tattered pages lying before him on the table, he found himself reliving those innocent days when they’d first started down the road less traveled.

He’d been so sure that their first night had merely been a casual fuck until the kid had shown back up the next night. It had been hard to stare into those tear filled blue eyes and teach the young gay man the facts of queer life. It had hurt more than he’d expected to watch that car drive away leaving him bare foot and exposed on the street.

If truth be told he’d felt buoyed by the sight of Justin at Woody’s a few days later and then at Babylon. He’d felt amused almost impressed as he’d watched the tricks leave him and follow the lithe shimmering body under the glitter of Babylon’s dance floor. Surprisingly Brian hadn’t felt jealous because the two men had chosen the younger man over him; no, instead he’d felt strangely possessive of the blond. It was a feeling that even now was so close he could taste it.

Looking down he found himself staring into his own eyes at 29. He was a different man then. He was distant, guarded, hard and brutally honest. He didn’t believe in love, just fucking, and always made it a point to experience his belief first hand as often as possible. He’d been self destructive in so many ways. Ways that at times had seemed more of a lifestyle than a path to destruction, now though he could clearly see that had he remained on that path he more than likely would have wound up dead long before his thirty-fifth birthday. Now he was facing forty. Somehow the idea of facing it with Justin seemed so much more palpable than facing it alone, but then everything always seemed more palpable when Justin was a part of the equation.

He felt a chill run through him as he realized the fire was now merely embers. It was do or die time. He could get off his ass and add more wood or sit back and let it go out. Picking up the well worn paper he stared at it for a long moment before returning it to the table, Brian then rose, grabbed another log, and tossed it into the hearth stoking the flames to new life. It wasn’t going to die, not now, not if he had anything to say about it.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was raining cats and dogs and the whole fucking zoo as Justin made his way out of the train station and down the deserted street to their flat. Stepping inside he shook the water out of his jacket and hair. He was drenched to the bone and shaking slightly from the cold. Starting up the steps he was filled with the same sense of dread he’d been experiencing for the last couple of weeks. Every day he would ask if Andy had called for his results and everyday Andy would have a new excuse as to why he hadn’t been able to.

Justin was going to call but not until he knew Andy’s results. For some reason he had to know that Andy was okay before he could call and reassure himself that he was as well.

As he placed his key into the lock he heard noise from inside their home. It was a strange muffled sound.

“Andy?” He called as he walked in muffled noise transforming into the recognizable sound of sobs coming from their bedroom. Following the noise, he found Andy laying prone on the bed, face down, crying. “Andy?” He asked again this time his voice unsure of whether or not he wanted to know the reason behind his partner’s sorrow.
“I have it.” Andy mumbled into the well worn quilt that lay atop of their bed.

“What?” Justin asked his voice hollow, his heart now located in both of his ears, pounding out a rapid panicked beat.

“I have it! I have it! I fucking have it!” Andy screamed pushing himself off of the bed and launching himself at his lover. “R9 Justin! R9!” He grabbed the blond by his shirt shaking him with all of his strength.

“Andy.” Justin reached up trying to stop the man. Justin struggled to free himself as his mind fought to grasp the reality of his infected lover, infected with the
deadliest strain of the virus.

“Why?” The young man demanded furiously seeking out the dazed blue eyes. “Why couldn’t I be enough for you? Why did you even pretend to love me? Why Justin? Why didn’t you just go back to him?” Andy alternated between rage and despair as he assaulted the other man. His fists slammed into Justin’s chest trying to force some sort of explanation. “Why? Why didn’t you just leave? I should have walked away. I should have….” He finally broke down his voice broken by heart wrenching sobs. “Nothing is ever enough for you is it?” He finally mumbled miserably releasing his seemingly paralyzed partner then crumpling to the floor at his feet. Andy gazed up meeting Justin’s fearful eyes. “You did this.” He accused then added weakly. “You did this to me.”

Justin stepped away gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to somehow comfort his lover but instead found that his legs, which before seemed incapable of movement, were suddenly backing out of the room and racing down stairs, he slammed out of the building sprinting out into the rain, running blindly down the dark and dirty streets of Paris.

He wasn’t sure how long he ran, or how far, his tears, like the rain drops, seeming to have no end. He finally collapsed in a park, face down. He reached up covering his ears, realizing in that moment that no matter how far or long he ran he could never escape the sound of Andy’s accusations. He longed for comfort and reassurance that things would somehow work out, but knew those words didn’t exist. He needed someone to absolve him, to explain that he wasn’t to blame, but no one could do that for him either. He knew what he needed, who he needed, he just wasn’t sure he had the courage to reach out for him now when it was obviously too late.

Stumbling across the street Justin moved into a phone booth. He leaned his head against the dirty glass hating the need that brought him there. Sighing he lifted the receiver and placed the call. He placed it four times each time hanging up at the end of the recording refusing to leave a message. He wasn’t sure how long he stood holding the receiver as though it were some life line to a time that now seemed impossibly perfect. He waited knowing it would come. The courage would come as the voice sunk into the deepest parts, the hidden parts of his heart. Finally, buoyed by the voice and the effect it always seemed to have on him, Justin pulled himself together then stepped out into the torrential rain once more. He looked up closing his eyes. He felt the water permeating his body and wondered if there was anyway it could remove the stain beneath his skin.

Accepting the reality that he’d never feel clean again, Justin knew what he had to do. Andy was right. Nothing was ever enough for him so it was high time that Justin paid the price for his ridiculous expectations. He had wanted it all and now he was going to give everything that he had to the man who’d loved him so easily and had lost everything for his efforts.

Heading down the narrow walk, Justin emerged as a new man. He was now a man that understood that some things were too dark and ugly to overcome, some sins unforgivable and some men simply unlovable. He’d never believed it could happen but now saw clearly that he was indeed one of those men.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A loud clap of thunder woke Brian as he sat bolt upright in the bed. He wasn’t sure what he’d been dreaming but it had something to do with Justin. Seeking reassurance Brian reached for the blond only to find cooling sheets instead.

“Justin.” He whispered trying to remember where the light switch had been. “Justin.” He called again louder this time. “Fuck.” He spat as he pushed out of bed realizing that unlike Paris, he had no idea where to start looking for the younger man.

He moved to the window hoping that perhaps the dim lights from the garden might help him to get his bearings. His eyes strained against the darkness. Even without the light, Brian already knew the blond was no longer upstairs.

Lightning lit the sky causing the older man to glance out of the window, his gaze lingered over the vines and organized chaos growing down below. Another clap of thunder and the sky lit up once more. This time Brian’s eyes were drawn to what appeared to be a statue standing no more than twenty feet from the back of the cottage.
Waiting for the next strike Brian realized that what he’d thought was a statue was in fact a man, standing out in the pouring rain, his soaked thin pajamas limp against his body. It was Justin.

Brian pried the window open crying out for the younger man but his voice was swallowed up by the sounds of the storm raging around him.

Brian quickly threw on his jeans and a shirt and rushed down to the blond, his mind far out distancing his legs.

“Justin!” Brian called again his concern deepening each time the blond failed to respond. It wasn’t until he reached the man that he realized Justin wasn’t hearing his name. He was far away, appearing awake and yet clearly still asleep. He was staring down in the direction of the cathedral apparently unaware of any of his surroundings.

“Justin?” Brian implored now desperate for the man to give some indication that he was able to respond. It was freezing outside. Brian realized that both he and Justin were trembling from the combination of wet and cold. Brian knew he didn’t have much time to get the blond warm.
Carefully moving up behind the smaller man, Brian wrapped his arms around him, grateful that there was no resistance. Brian then moved closer whispering reassuring words as he did so. Still Justin remained lost in whatever memory had called him out into the rain.
Brian managed to lift Justin into his arms and carry him back to the cottage. Once inside Brian moved toward the fireplace. Lowering Justin’s shivering body onto the floor, Brian quickly stoked the fire, grateful now for his decision not to let it die. It burst back into flame as the older man then turned and began removing Justin’s soaked clothing.

“Come back to me Justin.” Brian whispered over and over rubbing his hands over Justin’s chilled flesh.

A low moan from the blond caused Brian to increase his efforts. Removing his own clothing he grabbed a throw from the back of the couch and returned to Justin. Covering the blond with his own body then covering them both with the throw he continued to work to return the heat to Justin’s extremities.

Slowly the younger man woke, as he felt fingers and hands roughly massaging his weary muscles. It took a moment for Justin to realize he was no longer in his bed but was instead lying on the floor, beneath the weight of another body, another male body that felt very familiar.

“Brian?” He questioned weakly as he opened his eyes and took in his ex-lover’s concerned features. The light was low fading in and out. Justin turned his head and realized it was coming from the fireplace. They were in the living room, but how? Why had they moved from their warm soft bed to the hard floor downstairs?

Brian registered the confusion on the younger man’s face and struggled to find a way to explain.

“You must have had a dream.” He offered. “I found you outside in the rain.”

“I was outside?” Justin sounded alarmed by his behavior.

“When you went to your old flat in Paris were you….” Brian asked.

“I knew what I was doing. I decided to go.” Justin replied assuring the man that as far as he knew this was the first time he’d walked in his sleep. He felt confused and alarmed by his own behavior.

It had to be the stress. He’d felt so jealous watching Franck Villibord leering at Brian then all the memories Mrs. Villibord had caused him to recall concerning his time at the gallery. The stories recounted by the group had triggered so many memories.

Too many emotions, too little time to cope, Justin closed his eyes considering once more the warm hands kneading his flesh. He realized his body was reacting to the friction much as Brian’s had.

Looking up he could read both the concern and the need in Brian’s eyes. He reached for the man and drew him down until their lips met. Brian deepened the kiss and Justin allowed it arching up into the man as their bodies immediately found their old rhythm.

Justin gasped as their cocks moved against one another. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself any sort of release.

“Brian.” He whispered as he felt the man’s lips moving down his neck to his chest. He wanted Brian, there had never been any doubt about that. He’d always wanted Brian. Even Andy had known that. Justin opened his eyes attempting to banish any thoughts of Andy from his mind.

“Oh Jus.” Brian moaned as he moved down further his hand now around Justin’s hard cock. He’d wanted this for so long. He could hardly believe it was really happening. How had they gone from standing in the freezing rain to having sex in such a short span of time?

“I understand. I’m not angry.” Andy’s voice penetrated Justin’s thoughts.

“Fuck.” Justin hissed in frustration. Brian smiled misunderstanding the other man’s tone.

“We’ll get to that.” He leered. “I promise.” He offered as he took Justin’s dick in his mouth. Justin cried out arching off of the floor and deeper into Brian’s mouth. It felt so warm, so good, so right. It had been so long.
“When I’m gone I know you’ll go back to him.” Andy’s voice was weak and frail from months of struggle.

“Stop!” Justin ordered his hands against the sides of his head attempting to drive out the other man’s voice. Brian hesitated but then felt Justin’s hands in his hair pushing his mouth once more over his cock.

“You’ll probably remember me as a mistake you made in Paris.” Andy declared his bitterness evident. “In time you’ll never think of me at all.”

“That’s not true!” Justin argued out loud causing Brian to stop and look up at the blond.

“Let’s not argue. I really don’t have the strength left for it. I don’t want to fight anyway. I just want to let you know that you have my blessing to go and be happy after I’m gone. I want you to be happy.”

Justin increased the pace of his body as he writhed beneath the other man. He reached for Brian and devoured his lips.

“Fuck me!” He hissed as he frantically clawed at the older man. Brian hesitated. He’d seen Justin desperate for sex before but this was different. This was about something besides merely wanting to be with someone.

“Justin.” Brian struggled to contain the smaller man.

“Don’t you want me?” He pleaded. “Just fuck me!” He demanded trying to twist onto his stomach but Brian stopped him.

“Not like this.” Brian warned kissing the blond softly. Sex with Justin had stopped being fucking a long time ago. He tried to convey his feelings through caresses and kisses.

“Don’t!” Justin struggled beneath Brian. Brian reeled from the sudden change in disposition. He watched the blond both confused and alarmed by this shift in behavior.

“Justin?” He pulled back feeling concerned and frustrated. He moved further away as Justin’s hands pushed against his chest.

“Don’t make love to me.” Justin mumbled weakly over the sound of the crackling fire and thunder.

“Why?” Brian challenged.

“I don’t want you to.” He offered once more his eyes pleading with the older man’s.

“I don’t understand.” Brian shook his head in confusion.
“Fuck me like in the hotel.” Justin offered. “Let’s just have sex, get it over with.”

“Get it over with? What the fuck are you talking about?” Brian demanded angry now.

“You don’t want to?” Justin sat up equally angry. “Fine.” He pushed off of the floor and started for the stairs.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Brian demanded catching the blond by his arm just as he reached the stairs. He reeled the man around until they were standing face to face.

“Nothing.”

“Right. I mean after all it’s normal for a man to be standing in the freezing rain in his pajamas one minute then desperately trying to get fucked the next.” Brian shouted. Justin was shocked by Brian’s words. He felt overexposed and vulnerable.

“Fuck you.” He spat.

“No Justin, fuck you.” Brian pushed past him heading up the stairs.

He began dressing as the blond stood at a distance watching him.

“Where are you going?” Justin asked hating how insecure he sounded.

“What the fuck do you care?” Brian growled. “You think you’ve got the market cornered on walking out on someone. Think again.” Justin remained silent. How could he begin to explain how much he cared after the way he’d acted downstairs? How could he explain that he could never be in a loving relationship again, not now, not after all that he’d done to Andy. He’d only hurt Brian again if they were to be together once more. Watching the older man Justin realized that no matter what he did, he was going to hurt Brian. It was an impossible situation the weight of which forced the air from Justin’s lungs and made it difficult for the blond to breathe.

“See yaw Sunshine.” Brian pushed past him once more heading down the stairs. Justin stood paralyzed for a moment. It was as if suddenly he was adrift at sea, his life raft being pulled away. Justin knew at that moment that he was about to lose his only chance at happiness. Guilt aside, he wanted to be happy again. He wanted his life back.

Hearing the front door slam shut, Justin knew he had to find a way to reconcile his past before he lost any hope of ever having a future with Brian.