"Oh, I apologize for all the things I've done.
But now I'm underwater and I'm drowning... 
Is it my turn to be the one to cry. 
Isn't it amazing how some things just completely turn around... 
So take every little piece of my heart... 
So take every little piece of my soul... 
So take every little piece of my mind... 
'Cause if you're gone... inside... 
I'd die without you... "

- P.M. Dawn, I'd Die Without You (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsIlPRINpFk)

The first few weeks of November were more of the same. Brian would spend his days at Kinnetik while Justin painted at the house. Even though he came back from New York a few days into November, he had to return each of the consecutive weekends. Taking with him the canvases he worked on over the week. Brian would try to fill his time while Justin was gone with Gus and Lindsay but it was becoming more difficult to find distractions. Now that the weather was becoming decidedly colder, they spent less time out of doors and there were only so many board games and video games Brian could play before he felt like he might die of boredom. He enjoyed it as much as he could, for Gus’s sake. But it was tedious. It didn’t help that Brian wasn’t sleeping well, or at all really, while Justin was gone.

The lack of sleep, more than anything else, grated on Brian. He was used to running on fumes – hell, most of his twenties was spent in a constant state of exhaustion. But he wasn’t in his twenties anymore, and staying up because he was afraid of sleeping rather than staying up because he was dancing or fucking were two completely different things.

Brian did escape to Woody’s a few nights, glad to hang out with Emmett and Drew. Sometimes Michael and Ted would come, but Ted would never stay very long. Not when he had Blake at home, waiting.

Luckily, Brian didn’t see Jesse again at Woody’s. Not that he was too concerned, but he was happy to not have to shoo the guy away once again.

The third Friday was Gus’s monthly appointment with Marty, and on the way over to his office Brian had decided to ask the man if he could write him a prescription for sleeping pills. No harm in asking, right? All he could do was say no…

“So Gus is doing better,” Brian said. He had asked Marty if they could talk and so he found himself sitting in Marty’s office. Gus was in the adjoining playroom under the watchful eye of Marty’s assistant.

“Yes, he’s doing much better than I could have hoped. And the only person, or people, responsible for that are you and Lindsay. And Justin, too. Gus talks about him quite a bit,” Marty smiled at Brian, pushing his glasses up his thin nose.

“You are doing everything right, and I don’t think Gus will need much more help from me past January.”

“You’re sure?” Brian was glad to hear Gus was better – and he had noticed the changes himself.

As Justin’s travels back and forth to New York continued, Gus stopped crying and acting clingy and started accepting it as part of his life. Brian knew it was because Justin always came back, and for Gus that was the most important thing – that people come back when they say they will. It was important for Brian too, but for different reasons.

“I am sure,” Marty nodded, but leveled a curious gaze at Brian.

“Is there something else going on I should know?” he asked and Brian just shook his head.

“No,” he paused, “no. Gus is good. Great, actually. I was actually wondering if you could write a prescription for sleeping pills?”

“For Gus?”

“No! God, no,” Brian exclaimed emphatically, noting the look of incredulity that washed over Marty’s face at the question.

“For me,” Brian added.

Marty nodded as he looked at Brian. The scrutiny of his stare made Brian uncomfortable.

“I can’t prescribe medication,” Marty finally said, “and even if I could, I wouldn’t write you a prescription without first doing a consultation. No doctor would. Or should, anyway. If you’re having trouble sleeping I suggest you talk to your regular doctor about it and get some sleeping pills from them.”

“Right,” Brian sighed. It was a long shot, he knew, but nothing to lose from asking.

“May I ask – what’s the cause of your lack of sleep?”

“Just-,” Brian shook his head – he hated this, but Marty had helped Gus make a pretty remarkable recovery so…what was the harm?

“Bad dreams.”

“Specific bad dreams, or just generally bad dreams…?” Marty prompted.

“They’re specific,” Brian sighed, picturing that awful night in his head. Even when he was awake he could still hear the sound of the bat connecting to Justin’s head. It made his stomach turn.

“From a trauma you experienced?”

“A trauma I witnessed,” Brian said very softly and after a long pause. He fucking didn’t want to talk about it – yet he also desperately wanted to talk about it.

“I see,” Marty said softly and Brian scowled at him.

He didn’t see. He couldn’t possibly. No one could. The bashing, the bombing, the HIV…Justin had been hurt twice because of Brian, and he had very nearly been hurt a third time because of Brian. Then he’d just shoved him away, refusing him even when he said he wanted to come back. Forcing him to live in New York when he didn’t want to be there and then that fucker trashed his studio and he could have very easily hurt Justin…

That puts it at four times he’d hurt, or nearly hurt Justin. He was starting to wonder if he was even capable of protecting those around him.

“You should probably talk to someone who’s trained to treat adults; you could be suffering from Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“You can’t be serious,” Brain scoffed, cocking his eyebrow at Marty. That seemed a little extreme.

“You’ve been under a lot of pressure and stress and it’s entirely possible you’re experiencing suppressed, delayed emotions from this trauma.”

“But it was five fucking years ago,” Brian said, feeling incredulity at the idea that he was somehow still not over the bashing.

“Five years ago…,” Marty raised his eyebrows.

“Okay. Let me ask you then, has anything else happened since then, more recently maybe, that might be giving you reason to feel unnerved, or upset? That might have dredged up the old memories?”

“You mean besides my son losing his mother?” Brian laughed bitterly. Marty shrugged as if to say, ‘you tell me’.

“Fuck,” Brian breathed out.  

“A lot of shit has fucking happened since. But that’s life. You deal with it and move on,” Brian shifted in the chair, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. It was like his body was rebelling against him. He could feel the anxiety of each and every bad thing that had happened in his life before and after that fucking dance, and the weight of it all was pressing down on him, suffocating him. He wanted out – to just run away and never look back. Like he used to do. It had proven to be an effective technique in the past…

“Tell me,” Marty said softly, folding his hands on his desk.

“No,” Brian said but without much conviction because the words threatened to tumble from his lips unbidden, regardless.

“Everyone has bad shit happen in their life,” Brian said suddenly.

“That’s true. But it doesn’t mean you can’t be affected by what happens to you and those around you. It doesn’t mean the accumulation of the emotions surrounding those things doesn’t linger only to come back later when you least expect it to attack you; maybe paralyzing you with fear and doubt.”

Bullshit. He wasn’t a fucking victim, and listing all the shit in his life wasn’t going to make any difference because it all had happened – it was over. He just wanted to move on…but he couldn’t. And then he saw it. He was such an idiot. 

Of course, that was the problem. Running away doesn’t resolve anything, and now that Brian had stopped running all that shit was trying to catch up to him.

“I thought you didn’t treat adults,” Brian said, stalling and feeling some surprise when Marty let out a soft chuckle.

“I don’t,” he responded, “and I’d hardly call this treatment. I’m trying to gauge your state of mind because, while I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, you may or may not benefit from regular therapy.”

Shit. Brian looked around the office, debating with himself if he wanted to open that door. Because if he did open it, it may never shut again. It may prove to reveal more than Brian was willing to let bare to anyone. It might hurt more to face it all then to try and shove it all back in.

Plus, he’d managed this long okay.

But was it fair for him to keep ignoring it? Was it fair for him to sit on all that shit and hope it didn’t come to the forefront one day when his patience was wearing thin – did he want to risk potentially hurting Gus because his own shit was all fucked up? Or Justin? Or Lindsay?

Brian looked at Marty again. The man was probably not even ten years older than Brian, yet he seemed like a wise old man and for whatever reason Brian trusted him. Not that it was surprising – he wouldn’t have left Gus in the man’s care if he didn’t trust him. Yet oddly, trusting him to take care of his son was different than trusting him enough to bare his own soul.

Brian was proud that shit didn’t affect him – but maybe it did affect him. In ways he never knew – or maybe he did know but chose to ignore it because he refused to show weakness. He was the one that didn’t let shit bother him; he was strong, and stoic and unemotional. Yet how many times had he felt like none of those things? Too many times.

He hadn’t felt particularly strong or stoic or unemotional when his dad was hitting him, or when his mother was belittling him, or when Justin was lying bleeding from the head. He hadn’t felt strong, stoic or unemotional when he’d been diagnosed with fucking cancer, or when Mikey was practically dead and Justin was hurt again from that fucking bombing, or when he thought he’d said goodbye forever to the one man who had found his way into Brian’s heart, and definitely not when Justin was threatened by someone who actually thought it okay to cause physical damage to his property.

Marty held his gaze, seeming to wait for Brian to speak.

When Brian did speak, it was like a dam had been broken. He started at the beginning. He hit the highlights regarding his parents, than fast-forwarded to meeting Justin, the Prom and Chris Hobbs, Stockwell, the cancer, Vic’s death, the bombing at Babylon, Lindsay and Mel taking Gus to Canada, Justin leaving for New York, the car accident and Mel’s death, the HIV scare and his long-distance troubles with Justin, finishing the entire saga with the stalker in New York who had trashed Justin’s workspace. The connective tissue through almost all of it was Justin, and even as he talked Brian started to see the pattern – he started to connect the dots himself and he wondered why it had never occurred to him before.

“That’s a lot to deal with. Take just one of those things and most people wouldn’t be able to handle the emotional stress of it all. I’m quite impressed you’re as stable as you appear to be, actually,” Marty leaned back in his chair and Brian couldn’t help but offer the other man a sarcastic smile.

“I’m resilient,” he added.

“Yes. You are. That’s obvious because as I said, anyone else would likely crumble under the stress of just one or two of those events. But you’re not completely resilient and no matter how much you might fight it, you’re emotionally scarred – and not all those wounds are healed. I do think you should seek help from a professional because I sense there’s a lot in your past you haven’t resolved emotionally,” Marty pulled a pen from the blotter on his desk and scribbled several lines onto a blank sheet of paper.

“Colleagues of mine that I think would appeal to your particular sensibilities,” Marty smiled and held the paper out.

Brian stared at it blankly for what felt like several minutes. The paper fluttered softly in the warm air circulating the office. 

“Please take it. After everything you’ve told me I’d hate to see you not deal with this only to fall apart later and hurt those around you. Justin. Or Gus.”

Gus.

Fucking psychologists. With a heavy sigh Brian reached out and took the paper, not bothering to look at it as he folded it and slipped it into his pants pocket.

It all made sense. It made perfect sense, actually. Justin had been hurt so many times due to Brian’s thoughtlessness and now here he was expecting the worst once again. They had a track record and Brian was on edge constantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop – waiting for the next horrible thing to come. It felt like he could measure the past five years in horrible things that happened to him, or those around him.

“If you think you need some sleeping aids, you’ll likely have to go see psychiatrist. Two of the names I wrote down on there are psychiatrists. The other is a psychologist like me, but she can’t prescribe medication so keep that in mind if you make an appointment. You can probably also get the pills from your regular doctor but that isn’t going to cure the overarching problem. You need to deal with your past experiences. And I’m not sure you’re capable of doing that on your own.”

Brian looked up sharply at Marty.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of dealing with,” Brian said in low voice.

Parental abuse, rejection by the very people who were supposed to love him unconditionally, disease in his body, fatherhood…Marty may know the generalities of a few of the low points in his life, but he didn’t the specifics. He didn’t know how hard Brian fought for, and against so many of those things.

“I don’t mean you aren’t strong, Brian,” Marty said calmly, “of course you are. Look at what you did and are doing for Gus. But your ability to take care of others doesn’t mean you necessarily know what’s best for yourself.”

Brian nodded once and stood from his chair. He was done. He needed to think and figure out what the hell we was willing to do…how far he was willing to go to. Was he willing to admit any weakness? Because that’s what it felt like – he’d avoided this very situation for so long he was convinced he could continue to do so but what if he couldn’t? What if it only got worse and he ended up pushing Justin away again? What if he ended up lashing out at Gus and hurting him?

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Brian smiled sarcastically before turning and leaving Marty’s office, collecting Gus on his way out.

The drive back to the house Gus jabbered on, about what Brian didn’t even know. He was lost in his own thoughts. Deep down he knew Marty was right, but admitting it even to himself was proving very, very hard and the further away from the city and that office the more Brian was able to convince himself he was just fine. He didn’t need any help. He’d deal with it like he always did – and once this art show was over and Justin wasn’t traveling as much things would go back to normal.

Brian ignored the real issue; the fact that he didn’t like to rely on anyone other than himself for his well-being. Fuck, look how long it took for him to accept Justin and everything he meant to him! He had always known that there was no one he could rely on but himself – and everyone around him would eventually leave him or let him down. And his theory had been proven right so many fucking times. But those who left him also came back – most of them anyway. So didn’t that count for something? Didn’t Brian owe it to them to take care of himself? Did he really want to spend the next…however long it ended up he was without Justin in his bed, thrashing in his sleep and waking his son? If it started happening with more frequency, it might freak the kid out. And Gus didn’t need that kind of pressure or responsibility. He wasn’t meant to take care of Brian, Brian was meant to take care of him; and taking care of Gus meant taking care of himself. Of making sure he was healthy and sane and able to focus his energy on his kid, not on his frayed nerves.

Fuck!

Brian didn’t want to go see a fucking shrink.

But maybe he should.

Maybe he needed to.

Maybe…

Justin came home a few days later and not a moment too soon. Brian had taken to staying up all night rather than go to sleep and risking the dreams and possibly waking Gus and he was anxiously counting the minutes until he could collapse in bed with Justin beside him, secure in the knowledge that the other man was safe. Even with having a better understanding of what had brought on the recurring bad dreams and memories, Brian was no closer to making them disappear. He’d considered Marty’s list, and even Googled the names. They all seemed perfectly competent and successful. But he simply couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone and make the call.

Justin, who had hired a car to shuttle him back to the house rather than make Brian drive into town yet again, arrived at the house near 8pm on Sunday night and Brian whisked him off to bed almost immediately, leaving Lindsay to tend to Gus for the short remainder of their evening.

“You look like shit,” Justin said with a furrowed brow as he dropped his travel bag on the floor of their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Thanks,” Brian smiled sarcastically before he pulled his tee over his head, shed his pants and crawled directly into bed, foregoing the rest of his usual nighttime ritual. God, he was so fucking tired…

“Is everything okay?” Justin peeled his shirt and pants off and crawled across the bed, nestling himself under the covers and laying his head on Brian’s shoulder, his legs interweaving with Brian’s.

“Tired,” Brian yawned as his eyes fell, heavy with sleep.

He wanted to tell Justin about the dreams, and what Marty had told him – but not yet. He was so fucking tired and now that Justin was home, in his arms, safe, his body heat warming Brian he simply couldn’t fight his exhaustion any longer.

When Brian awoke the following morning he was alone in bed. He glanced at his bedside clock and saw it read 6:15am.

He barely remembered going to bed – but he could tell right away that he’d slept through the night without a single bad dream. With a loud yawn Brian rose from bed and donned sweatpants and a sweatshirt. One thing this house didn’t have was a very efficient heating system. The whole place always had a slight chill to it which made wandering around half naked a little uncomfortable. Not that Brian would wander around half-naked with Gus in the house but still…

Brian peered into Gus’s room and seeing the little boy still asleep in his bed he tiptoed down the stairs, finding Justin in the kitchen reading the paper. Sunny was lying on the floor at Justin’s feet. The puppy raised his head and wagged his tail as Brian came into the kitchen, but he didn’t get up.

“Morning,” Brian said through another yawn, pouring some coffee and joining Justin at the table.

“Can I make you some eggs or something?” Justin asked and Brian just shook his head, taking the Finance section of the paper from Justin.

They were quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds the turning of pages.

Suddenly Brian felt Justin’s stare on him and he raised his head to find wide, and worried, blue eyes looking back at him.

“Are you sick again?” Justin asked softly.

“What?” Brian paused, his coffee mug at his mouth. He looked at Justin, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head before taking a sip.

“No,” he said, “why would you ask me that?”

“It’s just the last time you passed out in bed still sober and without so much as a kiss goodnight was when…,” Justin’s expression looked less worried, but only just a little bit less.

“I told you a few months ago, my cancer screening was clear,” Brian reiterated.

Justin nodded, his lips pursed together. They were quiet for another several long minutes. Brian heard the muted sounds of Lindsay’s alarm clock start to go off before it was silenced.

“How long are you back for this time,” Brian asked, scanning the stocks and cursing at the downward trend that seemed to be neverending.

“Heath wants me back on the 20th. For the whole week,” Justin said and Brian paused, raising his eyes once more to look at Justin.

“I know,” Justin groaned.

“Deb’s gonna kill you if you aren’t there,” Brian warned, smiling wickedly.

“My mother will too,” Justin said with a sigh.

“Not that it matters to me, but maybe Heath will let you come back? I mean, it is Thanksgiving. You’d think he’d have some family or something to go be with,” Brian said softly. He cared that Justin would be gone again, but he really didn’t care about the holiday. Thanksgiving was nothing to him but an inconvenient holiday that forced him to give his staff two days off work. It was a pain in the ass.

“Maybe,” Justin smiled, glancing over his shoulder as Lindsay rolled into the kitchen.

“Mornin’,” he chirped and when Brian snorted a laugh he got a light kick in the shin for it.

Sunny, who hadn’t risen to greet Brian, did rise to greet Lindsay, wagging his tail and trying to jump up on her lap.

“No Sunny!” Lindsay pushed the dog away with a sigh, smiling at the two men tiredly.

“I’ll go get Gus up,” Brian smirked, leaving Lindsay to pepper Justin with all the questions he knew she was dying to ask.

Justin needed to stock up on art supplies in Pittsburgh, so he rode with Brian into town, borrowing the car and leaving Brian at Kinnetik. They planned to meet up later at the diner for lunch.

Brian, well rested, spent the morning getting a lot of work done, and he felt good about the fall and winter campaign plans that would start going out that week. Brian and his employees had been putting in a lot of extra hours to get some of the new campaigns ready. Many of them required only some little adjustments for the winter and holiday season, but it was still a lot of work, and Brian figured the Kinnetik staff would be expecting a pretty awesome bonus, and a pretty amazing Christmas Party for all their work.

At lunchtime, Brian walked the few blocks to the diner, seeing his car parked and loaded up with stretched canvases and bags containing tubes of paint, pastels, and charcoals. Brian hadn’t seen Justin work in any media other than paint, and pencil when he used to sketch, so he was curious about the additional supplies.

Deb wasn’t working the lunch shift which meant, though Brian and Justin were known by name and sight by everyone else who worked at the diner, they weren’t given any special treatment. Justin didn’t get extra French Fries with his burger, and Brian didn’t get free refills on his tomato soup. It wasn’t much, but the way Deb would dote on them when they’d come in to eat was missed.

The diner, as usual, was bustling during the lunch hour and though there were many people waiting to be seated, Brian and Justin didn’t rush. Justin wanted to hear about Brian’s week – how things were at Kinnetik, and how things were going at home. When Brian told Justin that Gus wouldn’t have to see Marty any more after January, Justin had been thrilled. Brian kept his own emotional struggles to himself but he didn’t deny, when asked by Justin, that he continued to have the same few bad dreams – when he actually slept.

Likewise, Brian wanted to hear more about the show, and Heath, and how things were going in New York. Justin was eager to talk, and happy to answer questions, but he seemed distracted by something. The usual fire and excitement that had previously accompanied any talk of art shows and New York was gone. And that worried Brian considerably.

Justin was in the middle of describing a new painting to Brian when his eyes traveled to the door and his expression fell.

“Fuck,” he sighed, stopping his story midsentence to roll his eyes and fall back against the bench.

Brian, who was sitting with his back to the door, furrowed his brow and turned in his seat to look.

Jesse.

“Jesus,” he said softly, turning back to Justin. “Ignore him.”

“If he wasn’t done working with Lindsay at the end of this month, I’d actually ask you to fire his ass,” Justin breathed.

Brian watched his blue eyes flicker up and over his left shoulder to the door before they traveled back down to his plate.

“I know,” Brian said.

If he hadn’t known Jesse’s presence in his home would be short-term, he would’ve fired his ass long ago. But he’d put up with him because he helped Lindsay, and she liked him. Brian hadn’t informed her of his inappropriate come-on’s to him at Woody’s. But it didn’t matter. He would be gone soon, and it’s not like Brian would act on his advances anyway. At this point, it was more about stubborn pride than an actual refusal of the proposition but either way – Jesse wasn’t going to get another chance to corner Brian, or put his hands on him.  He wouldn’t get another chance to harass Justin, or make him feel uncomfortable in his own home.

Justin sat up suddenly, his expression hardening into a sickly sweet smile and when Brian glanced to his left he saw Jesse walk past with three other guys in tow. He met Brian’s gaze and winked, his mouth in a wide grin.

“Prick,” Justin spat under his breath after they’d passed. He looked at Brian then and his expression changed. He appeared thoughtful, and Brian braced for a “serious discussion”.

“Are you happy?” Justin asked suddenly.

Brian was slightly startled by the question – it wasn’t what he was expecting and a part of him wondered if this was some kind of trap he was wandering into. Was there a right answer? Of course he was happy – mainly when Justin was there with him, but was that what Justin wanted to hear?

“Yes,” Brian said slowly, offering a nervous smile.

Justin smiled back and looked down at his hands, which were folded on the tabletop. Again, Brian felt the stirrings of something more and he shifted slightly in his seat, a cold spot growing in his chest.

“Uh, are you?” Brian asked back, as fear this was going somewhere he didn’t want it to started to grow inside him.

“Mostly,” Justin looked back up at Brian and his expression was pained.

Mostly. What the fuck did that mean? And why did Brian suddenly feel like the times Justin wasn’t happy had to do with him?

“When I’m in New York I think I’m happy. I feel like I’m supposed to be happy. I’m busy, and it’s fun talking art and planning this show with Heath. It’s exciting discussing future possibilities with Jaelynn,” Justin looked wistful, his eyes glistening.

Brian’s heart raced as he listened closely to what Justin was saying. Was there a hidden meaning he was meant to pick up on? Justin typically didn’t talk in code, but they both had grown and changed so much in the last year or so…

“But then I go back to the hotel, and I’m there alone and I fucking miss you so much,” Justin smiled and a single tear slipped from his eye. Justin swiped at it and held Brian’s gaze. “I wonder what you’re doing. If you’re at the house having dinner with Gus and Lindsay, or working late at Kinnetik, or maybe out at Woody’s or Babylon. I wonder if you are happy. I hope you’re happy. Even if I’m not there.”

“What are you-,” Brian leaned forward, perplexed. He had no clue where Justin was headed with this conversation.

“I want you to be happy, above everything else,” Justin interrupted with a sigh and Brian shrugged, his shoulders tense with anxiety.

“I am. So what are you talking about?”

“Before I left for New York the first time, you changed. You stopped tricking, you became this pod-person, a pale shadow of yourself because you thought that was what I wanted – and you were miserable. I don’t want to be the cause of you being miserable again. I know what it means to you, to stop fucking around. But I’m out of town half the month, and I doubt my travels will lessen after the show,” Justin seemed to collapse into the bench, “unless I completely fail.”

“I still don’t get what you’re saying,” Brian said softly, even though he had a pretty good idea where it was going.

“I know what it meant when you let me make love to you without a condom,” Justin leaned forward too, his voice low. Brian felt certain even if those people sitting around them wanted to eavesdrop, they wouldn’t be able to hear either of them over the steady din of noise in the diner.

“I love you so much for that gift, and for promising me you’ll be faithful,” Justin paused and Brian knew a ‘but’ was forthcoming.

“But,” Justin reached out and grasped Brian’s hands, “I want to release you from that promise.”

Brian laughed. This was all too confusing and he didn’t understand what was going on.

“I think we should start using condoms again, and I want you to promise me that if you need to go out and get release when I’m gone, you will,” Justin said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Brian laughed. This had to be a joke, because Justin wouldn’t say these things, right? Not after what they’d gone through.

Suddenly, Brian needed to get out of the diner so they could talk, really talk, free from ears that would happily absorb and spread any and all gossip they could possibly take in. Brian started to slide out of the booth, pulling his wallet from his pocket and tossing a $50 down.

“Let’s go,” he said to Justin’s questioning look.

Ten minutes later they were sitting on the same bench in the same park where Brian once sat with Lindsay and denied ever loving Justin. Ha. He had known then that Lindsay didn’t believe him, but it made him feel better to say it out loud – even if it had been a total lie at the time.

“So let me get this straight,” Brian said, “you want me to feel free to fuck around while you’re out of town? Is that what I heard you say at the diner?”

They were sitting side by side, their knees touching but nothing else. They were both staring straight ahead, though Brian could see Justin fidgeting in his peripheral vision.

“Yeah,” he replied.

Brian nodded and tried to reconcile what was happening. He appreciated Justin’s gesture, and a part of him found the thought of it appealing. He thought it would be so easy to fall back into old patterns but Brian was tired of living his life easy and he’d put that behind him – months ago. The challenge of remaining faithful to Justin was, surprisingly, more appealing. Plus, he didn’t think it would be very responsible of him to live his old lifestyle now that he was a primary parent for Gus. It was too dangerous.

Fuck! All he had to do was look back at what had happened in Toronto with Sam to see the potential repercussions of going back to his old ways.

“It’s not really necessary anymore,” Brian said slowly, seeing Justin turn to look at him.

“I kind of like it being just you and me,” Brian admitted, surprised that he didn’t have to try even a little bit to convince himself it was true.

Justin’s expression was still pained and Brian couldn’t make sense of why his answer wasn’t making the other man happier. All Justin had ever wanted was for Brian to choose him over everyone else; now he was, yet there was no joy in the younger man’s face.

“What’s wro-,” Brian started to ask and then it occurred to him. And to say he was confused by the revelation would be an understatement. Justin’s face fell as he realized Brian figured it out, and that was all the confirmation Brian needed.

Shit. This was unexpected, so say the least.

“What happened?” Brian asked. He couldn’t even get angry because it simply didn’t make sense. Maybe he was wrong? Though the look on Justin’s face disputed that possibility. He wouldn’t look so sad and forlorn if he was wrong.

“Jaelynn invited me over for a dinner party my last night there,” Justin started, turning his gaze back out to the kids running around on the playground. Brian followed his gaze. It might be mid-November but that didn’t stop them from enjoying the fresh air.

“There were something like twenty people there, most of them artists, nearly all of them gay,” Justin laughed softly, “someone started serving me these fruity mixed drinks and before I knew it I was in the bathroom, my pants around my ankles and my dick in some guy’s mouth.”

Brian nodded with a slow exhale. A blowjob. He could handle that.

“That it?” he asked.

“Yes,” Justin answered with conviction but still sounding devastated. Brian could imagine the admission probably hurt Justin worse than it hurt him.

Not that he wasn’t hurt – but a blowjob – that wasn’t much of anything. That wasn’t letting someone else fuck him. Brian knew for a fact he would have had a harder time getting over that – he didn’t even want to know if Ethan was the top or bottom when Justin was with him because the thought of Justin letting anyone else fuck him caused Brian immense jealousy. Tricking, Justin always topped – Brian knew that. He could handle that. But he had to believe he was the only one Justin let inside him.

“Okay,” Brian breathed.

“Okay?”

“Don’t do it again?” Brian tried instead, lifting his arm and resting it on Justin’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

“But -,” Justin started but Brian silenced him with a finger to the lips.

“Stop,” Brian said gently. “Thank you for telling me. It might have been a bit too much to swear complete fidelity from the start. I think we need to go forward from here with an understanding that mess-ups happen. It’s likely unrealistic to think they’ll never happen again. So if we mess-up more than a blowjob then it’s back to condoms. And I don’t know about you but, forgive the pun, inserting that kind of a fucking barrier back into our sex life is as good a tricking deterrent as anything.”

Brian laughed and pressed his mouth to Justin’s ear, whispering, “being inside you, my cock touching you in the most intimate way, skin on skin, gliding in and out, is more desirable and amazing and wonderful than any quick release a trick could provide.”

Justin laughed softly and squirmed in Brian’s embrace, turning to press a kiss on Brian’s lips before he added, “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Have I told you today that I love you?” Justin twisted more fully, so he was facing Brian.

Shaking his head, Brian smirked and let his desire to taste Justin’s lips overtake him, forgetting they were sitting in a very public park, in the middle of the day.

In the end, they agreed to try and stay faithful, but to come clean if they weren’t. It was the best they could do, and they promised to always hear the other out, if a slip-up should occur. They both knew it was not just likely, but probably a certainty, not that it meant they were given a free pass to fuck around – because neither of them wanted that; what it meant was they had the comfort of knowing they could confess to the slip up and be forgiven for it.

The week went by fast. Justin worked all day every day and sometimes into the night on another new painting for the show, but he made up for it when he’d join Brian in bed. It reminded Brian of some of the fuckfests they’d used to have early on – going three, four, even five times in a night. Yeah, Brian wasn’t going to complain about that part.

And he wasn’t going to complain that for the week Justin was in their bed, Brian didn’t have a single nightmare.

Then just as quickly as Justin had arrived he was gone again, leaving early Friday morning for New York. He’d worked it out with Heath that if he came back to New York a few days early, he could then come back to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. Brian knew that would appease Jennifer and Deb who had both been outraged at Justin missing the holiday. Brian too was glad, because it meant an entire weekend with Justin at the loft. Lindsay, after an early Thanksgiving dinner at Deb’s, was going to then go spend the long weekend with her parents, Gus and JR in tow. Her parents hadn’t spent much time with JR, so that was the main impetus behind her weekend plans. Brian was glad as it left him the weekend free, and really he wanted nothing more than to lock Justin in the loft and fuck him all day, and all night, and all day, and all night…

But first he had to make it to Thanksgiving.

The Friday Justin left was also Lindsay’s follow up appointment with her doctors for her injury. She had finished her prescribed physical therapy with Jesse, and hadn’t decided if she was going to continue or not. She wanted to see what the doctors said about her progress.

She wanted Brian there for support, and on the way to the appointment she told him she felt good about it. She had high hopes that if she continued to work hard she might eventually be able to walk again. She thought she was stronger and her attitude was positive, which Brian remembered from Justin’s rehabilitation, was important.

Sitting in the waiting room while Lindsay was being examined Brian had time to reflect on the recent developments. His emotional duress, which had disappeared when Justin had been there, still needed his attention but he was no closer to deciding if he was willing to open himself up to closer examination. To be honest, he was a little scared of what might come out and while he never outright disliked himself he was also afraid that if he examined his previous actions too closely he might learn that he was really a despicable person; and that would be devastating.

Brian thought about Lindsay. Namely, if she decided to continue her PT Brian was going to have to ask her to find someone else other than Jesse. Brian couldn’t have that guy in his house any more. Not just because he seemed to not get the message that Brian wasn’t interested, but because it made Justin uncomfortable. Brian could handle the harassment. In fact, it kind of turned him on to reject someone like Jesse. But the stress it put on Justin was unacceptable, and he should never have to feel that way in his own home. So no more Jesse, one way or the other.

Then there was Justin’s small slip…

It really didn’t bother him. Other than the initial surprise that it was Justin who had made the first mistake. Based on their history and the strength of Brian’s libido, it was unexpected to have Justin confess to such a thing. But shit happens and Brian didn’t blame him, nor was he angry. A little disappointed maybe, but what he’d told Justin was also true – there was only the slightest chance that they’d live their lives together without one or the other messing up. Brian didn’t want it to happen – but he wasn’t so naive as to think that just because they’d confessed their love and had fucked without condoms that suddenly there were no more temptations. There’d always be temptations – but it was weighing the consequences of giving in to the temptation that would hopefully deter most slip ups. Because the way it felt, fucking Justin without that thin barrier between them was all the difference in the world. He hadn’t expected the sensations to be so electric, so stimulating. Which was silly in and of itself. The sensation of sex with a condom was so pleasurable it only made sense that without one everything would be amplified. Brian just hadn’t been prepared for how amplified. And he supposed that was why he’d never thought about it before. Because if he’d known, he might not have been able to discipline himself to stay safe.

Lindsay’s appointment was just over an hour, and when she emerged Brian tried to gauge her mood. She seemed okay, but there was a lingering sadness hanging over her and he wondered if maybe she wasn’t as far along as she’d thought going in. But she wouldn’t talk about it, instead insisting that they go home, gather Gus and go out for pizza and ice cream.

Weirton, West Virginia. The “address” of Britin and where Gus went to school. It was a small town, but friendly enough. Brian wasn’t sure anyone in the town really knew that the big house he, Justin, Lindsay, and Gus all shared was a hotbed of homosexuals, but he also got the feeling it might not matter. He hadn’t met or seen another gay man in the few times he’d gone into town, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Though Brian did doubt their presence. Not when Pittsburgh was so close.

Gus loved going into town. The main street was old fashioned, and along with several antiques shops, fashion boutiques, and restaurants there was an old-fashioned soda fountain that had captured Gus’s attention the very first time they’d gone. Even Brian had to admit, it was a pretty cool place. There were a few pinball machines in the back, as well as a few of those coin-operated kiddie rides so prevalent in suburban grocery stores. But for some reason their presence in this setting wasn’t as unnerving.

Next door to the soda-fountain was a pizza-by-the-slice shop. The slices, bigger than Brian’s face, were always hot and fresh and though Brian tended to avoid pizza when he could help it, he indulged here.

Pizza, ice cream sodas, and then new toys. When Gus was finished with his chocolate soda and they’d exited the shop to head back to the car Gus’s attention was caught by a window of flashing lights and he’d begged to be allowed to go inside. It was a new toy store, just opened that day apparently. It wasn’t too crowded, which was good for Lindsay since her chair barely fit through much of store. The place seemed to cater to one-of-a-kind and old-fashioned style toys. Toys that were meant to capture a child’s imagination. As such, Brian happily bought Gus several things, including a fancy harness for Sunny so Gus could take him “on walks”.

As the evening wore on and the shops on the main street starting closing up, Brian pulled Gus away from the toy store and got him loaded into the car to head home. It had been a long day for them all, though Brian still didn’t know what had happened at Lindsay’s appointment. She flat out refused to answer any of his questions.

Gus fell asleep almost as soon as Brian started the car, and when they got home Brian carried him up to bed and tucking him in before bringing Sunny inside from the garage. He paused outside Gus’s doorway, watching him sleep and marveling at how he was partially responsible for the person Gus was, and would be. It was overwhelming.

Lindsay had retreated to her suite of rooms so Brian crossed the hall to his own bedroom, closing the door behind him and staring forlornly at the bed. Justin hadn’t called yet, and though Brian was exhausted there was no way he would be able to sleep without hearing Justin’s voice – and even then he wasn’t sure he’d sleep soundly, or even through the night without another nightmare, usually the first night Justin was gone was the best one.

Brian walked over to the windows that overlooked the back acreage and expanse of forest that stretched out behind the house. It was pitch dark out – a new moon – so Brian could see nothing beyond the small area lit by the exterior lighting. But he could see stars, and he was reminded of the painting Justin had done a few months ago, depicting the night sky as it appeared when they’d made love, raw, just after the HIV results had come in.

“Shit,” Brian whispered, feeling his cock swell with memories of that night, and all the nights after.

His cell phone chose that moment to ring, vibrating loudly on the nightstand where Brian had left it. Turning and crossing the room, Brian picked it up and answered without checking who was calling.

“Sunshine,” he growled in a low trembling voice. His free hand had already unbuttoned his jeans and disappeared inside as he stroked his cock in anticipation of some hot phone sex.

But there was only silence.

“Justin?” Brian pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the name and was surprised to see it was Lindsay.

“Linds? Are you there?” Brian released his dick and sat on the edge of bed, his heart racing as he heard a choked sob.

“Brian? Can you come down here please?” she managed to whisper, but the heart-wrenching pain in her voice indicated the urgency.

“I’ll be there in two seconds,” Brian tossed his cell phone on the bed, buttoned his jeans and strode quickly from the room. He barely registered the sound of the phone vibrating again and the following morning when he finally saw the missed call, he would explain to Justin, in general terms, the drama of the evening.

Brian didn’t bother knocking at Lindsay’s door – he simply threw it open and walked quickly into the room, his eyes searching. He saw her chair first, empty and at her bedside, before his eyes found her sitting on top of the bed. She was still fully clothed, but she held a box of tissues on her lap and her eyes were red.

“What the fuck? Are you okay?” Brian hurried to her bed, sitting on the edge and taking on of Lindsay’s hands in his.

She couldn’t answer him, just shaking her head as she gasped another sob and a wave of tears burst forth.

This was not Brian’s area of expertise. He could offer solace, begrudgingly and in his own Brian Kinney way, but he’d never been faced with someone so on the verge of a complete breakdown as Lindsay was. Not even Gus, on his worst days, was this upset.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. When Lindsay leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest Brian just held her. Her entire body wracked with sobs and it was only seconds before Brian felt the wetness from her tears soak through his white tee shirt.

One hand on her back, Brian let his other hand stroke her hair as he tried to calm her. He stared at the alarm clock on her nightstand, watching as the minutes ticked by and yet she didn’t let up. Finally, ten minutes later, she pulled back.

Her face was a mess. Her eyes were swollen and so red it was almost as if all her blood vessels had popped. She had two streams of snot running from her nose, and her hair was sticking up on top of her head.

She shook her head as she leaned back against the headboard of the bed, blowing her nose into a fresh tissue before throwing it on the floor where there was already a decent sized pile.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped, her voice hoarse and cracking on the words.

“Don’t,” Brian stood, grabbing the water bottle provided by the hospital to her off her nightstand and going into her bathroom he filled it with water.

Lindsay offered him a weak smile as he handed it to her. She bent the straw and took a small sip, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall.

“My life is fucked,” she whispered with a shuddering sigh.

“What happened?” Brian walked to the other side of the bed, sitting next to her on the mattress and taking her hand in his.

“Lindsay,” he pressed the back of her hand to his lips and laid several soft kisses there, “talk to me.”

“It’s Mel’s birthday next month,” Lindsay said, her voice cracking on the last word and a single tear slipped from her eye. She didn’t move to wipe it away and Brian watched as it tracked down the side of her face to her jaw where it paused before moving to her chin and dripping onto her lap. He could see the small, wet stain it left on her shirt.

“She always hated that her birthday was in December,” Lindsay laughed, “I mean, for Hanukah she liked it, but the big holiday to-do in December is always Christmas, isn’t it.”

Brian smiled gently when Lindsay turned to look at him. He didn’t talk, just squeezed her hand in encouragement. He wasn’t entirely sure she’d been speaking about Melanie at all, with anyone, for months, and it was highly obvious she needed too.

“I was going to surprise her with a trip to New York City for Christmas,” Lindsay continued, “I knew Deb would watch the kids if you and Michael couldn’t. I just wanted to get away with her. Just the two of us. Like it used to be. I missed that, ya know?”

Brian nodded as she looked at him again. He did now. Now that he had someone to miss, he knew it all too well. It wasn’t quite the same thing, but it was as close as Brian ever hoped to understand because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t go insane if something happened to Justin. In fact, he knew he would.

“I haven’t been to the gravesite yet,” she went on. “I’m afraid if I go then it’ll really be real. Not like it’s not real now, but most days I can pretend she’s just away on business, or out shopping. It’s only at night that I really miss her, and when I want to call her and tell her about Gus, or JR. Or you and Justin.”

She smiled at Brian then, and he caught of glimpse of his old friend in the gesture. She wasn’t too far lost, and Brian felt a wave of relief at that.

“I still have her number in my cell phone,” Lindsay laughed. “Fuck, I still have her old cell phone. I call it sometimes, when I need to hear her voice. I’m just thankful she got rid of that awful automated voice and personalized her message. Because it’s practically all that’s left.”

“Not all,” Brian said then.

It wasn’t all. There was a box of home movies in the garage. VHS tapes that chronicled the past almost ten years of Mel and Linds. Most of them were of the kids, and taken in the last five years, but there were some from the early years – when they went to Niagara Falls on their first anniversary; or when they went to Baltimore for a conference and stayed extra days to sightsee; or when, after having been together only a short time, they went to Washington DC to protest the signing into law of the Defense of Marriage Act. There were so many memories tied up in that box, and for Lindsay’s sake Brian was glad they existed. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, obviously, but he too had to admit that having those few photos of Justin he’d found at the loft, to look at and reminisce about, had gone a long way towards healing him and allowing him to let Justin back into his life and his heart.

Lindsay hadn’t been able to bring herself to watch any of those old tapes though, and Brian also couldn’t blame her there, either. It would be hard; so fucking hard.

She fell against Brian, heaving a heavy sigh and snuggling against him. Brian put an arm around her and pulled her closer.

“I’m not going to walk again,” she said after several long minutes.

Brian had thought she was asleep, her breathing had evened out and she was limp against his body. Her voice, and her words, surprised him.

“What?”

“I’m not improving. My strength today at the doctors was exactly the same as it was in July when they’d released me from the rehab center,” her voice was soft, but she didn’t sound like she would burst into tears again, so that was a good thing.

“It’s not fair,” she added and Brian saw her toes wiggle ever so slowly. “I can move my legs, I can feel when you touch me, or when Gus sits on my lap, or when Sunny tries to jump on me. But I can’t fucking walk. And I never will. The doctor said as much.”

“Did he really say that?” Brian asked gently. It wouldn’t surprise him if Lindsay was exaggerating, hearing only the bad news.

“He said and I quote, ‘Your leg strength isn’t improving and your nerve endings haven’t repaired themselves. It’s unlikely you’ll ever be able to walk on your own’,” Lindsay lifted her hands to do the quotey-fingers.

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth and nodded.

“Well, shit,” he finally said and Lindsay laughed.

“Yeah,” she added.

They were quiet again for several long minutes. Brian felt his eyes growing heavy and he wanted nothing more than to slink down under the covers and sleep.

“Brian?” Lindsay’s questioning voice drew him back from the brink.

“Hmmmm?”

“I know we can’t stay here forever. Gus and I,” she pulled away from him then, and looked at him. Her brown eyes a little clearer since she’d stopped crying.

“I’m going to start looking for a job, and a place. I think we’ll have to move back to Pittsburgh though,” she shrugged. “I mean it’s nice out here and Gus loves it, but I can’t commute and let’s face it, if I’m wheelchair bound, living out here in the elements isn’t exactly ideal.”

It made sense, and Brian supposed he should have seen this coming. He wasn’t sure what he expected but he knew Lindsay couldn’t live with him and Justin forever. But Gus…Brian wasn’t sure how he felt about losing Gus. He’d been taking care of him, almost all on his own, for ten months now. He’d become accustomed to being a full-time dad. He wasn’t prepared to feel the panic at losing that distinction. Though he wouldn’t be losing it, not really. Gus would still come visit and at least he’d be closer in Pittsburgh than in Toronto.

“And my parents can help out,” Lindsay kept on, “and Deb.”

She looked at him and must have seen something in his expression because she offered a tiny smile. “I can’t stay here Brian. I can’t invade your home with Justin. I won’t be the third wheel, literally.”

He wanted to fight her, to tell her no. That she could stay, that he would take care of them. She didn’t have to leave, or get a job, or anything. But he didn’t. Because that wasn’t fair. It was selfish of him to wish them to stay. Lindsay had to resume her life, and she couldn’t do that out in rural West Virginia. Also selfishly, he couldn’t help but imagine the wonders of having free reign to fuck Justin anywhere and everywhere in the house.

“How soon do you think you’ll leave,” Brian said slowly, cautiously.

“Well considering I have no money saved, no job, and certainly nowhere to go, it won’t be for a few months at least,” she laughed softly, her hand resting on Brian’s chest where she gently pressed into him.

“Don’t worry dad, it’ll probably be a year or so,” she looked up at Brian and he could see the understanding in her expression.

He smiled back at her. Of course she knew, of course she could see. Lindsay did have a way about that – about seeing him. Not always, but many times.

“What happened to Mel’s money?” Brian asked changing the subject to something less emotionally charged.

“All of Mel’s life insurance went into trust funds for the kids,” Lindsay smiled, “that’s how we wanted it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Brian scoffed, “and stupid!”

Lindsay looked at him with a disappointing look on her face.

“Lindsay; I could, at this moment, put enough money into the bank for both kids to live off of for the rest of their lives and still have plenty to support myself until I’m gone. Why the hell would you put yourself into financial dire straights like that when you knew, you knew I would never let either of those kids want for a single damn thing!”

“I was important to Mel,” Lindsay smiled softly and Brian regretted his outburst. Fuck Melanie and her pride. He knew that’s what it was.

Brian shook his head.

They sat silently together for a long while, and soon Brian recognized the heavy, deep breathing of sleep. Gently, Brian scooted Lindsay down the bed, pulling the covers out from beneath her and draping them over her. He considered going upstairs to his own bed but something told him he just might sleep through the night if he stayed down with Lindsay. So Brian pulled off his jeans and crawled into bed next to Lindsay, brushing hair off her face as he watched her sleep. It wasn’t long before Brian was lost to dreamland, too.

What felt like moments later Brian was being shaken awake. It was hot, at least he thought it was hot. His entire body was drenched with sweat and as he pulled himself from sleep to look at Lindsay’s concerned face staring back at him he knew he’d been dreaming. Thankfully, he couldn’t remember which one it was, but based on the buckets of sweat he was swimming in, it had been one of the bad ones.

“What?” he grumbled to Lindsay in an attempt to play off the obvious. He knew it wouldn’t work, but it made him feel better – for the moment anyway.

“What the hell Brian?” she was perched on her elbow, her brow drawn tight.

“Just a bad dream,” he shrugged, throwing off the covers and sighing as the cool air hit his damp body. He shivered as a chill traveled through him. Standing from the bed, he stripped off his shirt and draped it over the foot of the bed. He could feel Lindsay’s eyes on him, but he avoided her gaze as he stretched and tried to let his sweaty body air dry.

“Brian.”

“Brian?”

“Brian!”

He refused to look at her, walking to the bathroom instead and splashing cool water on his face, letting it drip in wandering rivulets down his neck and chest. He stared at his reflection and willed himself to get a grip. He didn’t want to be a drama-queen and he hated that he couldn’t contain control of his emotions like he’d always been able to in the past.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, Lindsay was sitting up in the bed, staring at him.

“Peter,” she said so softly that Brian almost didn’t hear her. It was that word, that one nickname that harkened back to the good-old days, when he and Lindsay would stay up all night in the dorms, talking and drinking and smoking, that nearly broke him.

“I’m fine,” he said gently, offering a smile that felt pretty convincing on his face. Lindsay’s expression didn’t lead him to believe she bought it, but her concerned expression relaxed a little bit.

“How long have you been having nightmares?” she asked and Brian shrugged.

“Off and on. A few years,” he tried to play it off but Lindsay’s surprised reaction hit him hard.

“Brian,” Lindsay’s tone was soft, but full of worry.

“No. Stop,” Brian paced at the foot of the bed, getting angry. He didn’t want her fucking pity. He just wanted the dreams to stop. That was it. Was that so hard to accomplish!

“When Justin goes back to New York I have a hard time sleeping,” he said absently.

He wasn’t really thinking clearly but he felt the need to keep moving, to keep talking. So he paced, seeing Lindsay in her bed, watching him, but not really seeing her. She was there, just in the corner of his eye, but like a ghost. He could easily pretend he was just talking to himself. Not that talking to Lindsay was bad. He trusted her – like he trusted Justin. Like he used to trust Michael before they had one too many fallouts. Now, trusting Michael came with risk. Michael liked to talk – Lindsay and Justin could both keep their fucking mouths shut.

“It’s the same few dreams, over and over,” he scratched his head, his face contorting as the images flashed before his mind’s eye. Justin grinning, laughing. Justin lifeless and bleeding. Justin covered in blood, tied to a gurney. Justin in a coma. Wondering for three days, would he live?

The nightmares were always about the bashing, but Brian was certain he’d reconciled his guilt over that event long ago. He’d always thought he had. Sure, the dreams would pop up now and again, particularly when something stressful was going on – like a cancer diagnosis, or a 2,000 mile separation. But then they’d disappear just as quickly and seemingly at random.

“What is it?” Lindsay’s tone was cautious.

Brian looked directly at her, then.

“The bashing,” he blurted and he felt a strange vindication when she flinched at the hard edge to his words.

“Oh,” was all she said.

Yeah. Oh. Brian hated that fucking Chris Hobbs was still affecting him this way. He’d hoped, when he’d exacted his revenge on the judge that his unresolved anger over the violent act and Hobbs’ non-sentence would dissipate. For awhile it did. Then – when Justin left with Ethan it all came back, and it continued to come back over the last few years. It would appear it was unresolved after all.

Brian collapsed on the bed and lying sideways, he put his head on Lindsay’s lap.

“I don’t know what to do,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

“You have to deal with it,” Lindsay replied, “maybe you need to go talk to someone.”

Brian huffed a laugh. If only she knew that Marty had told him the same thing.

“I never needed that before.”

That was a lie, though. He might not have gone for therapy, or psycho-analysis, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t needed it. Particularly when he was younger.

“You know what’s different now, don’t you?” Lindsay asked, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

Brian shrugged, looking up at his friend’s face.

“You’re not numbing yourself; drinking and drugging until you can’t feel anything. You’re being forced to face your emotions and I’m guessing there’s a lot of them that are demanding attention. Not the least of which is all the shit you went through with Justin over the years,” Lindsay stroked Brian’s hair.

She was right. He knew it. But knowing it, and admitting to needing help were two different things and Brian wasn’t ready to make that admission. He wasn’t ready to admit he had a weakness, a flaw that needed fixing – one that he couldn’t fix himself.

“Fuck,” he whispered, rolling on his side and staring blankly down Lindsay’s legs to the end of her bed, overwhelmed.

Brian immersed himself in his work the following week – spending long days in the office. Gus had the week off school, and Lindsay had decided to start drawing and painting herself, so they spent many of their days in the small makeshift studio.

Brian still spent most of his nights sleeplessly. But now that he was being forced to face all the things from his past that he had previously, unceremoniously shoved back into the depths of his memory, the nightmares were lessening; still there, but less harsh somehow.

Still, he resisted making any move to talk to a professional. He wasn’t sure that was something he would ever want to do. Hell, he’d handled everything for years with no problems…maybe not in the healthiest way possible, but he handled it. The problem was, drinking and drugs were only good for numbing pain for so long. And now that he’d mostly abandoned his old lifestyle and Liberty Avenue, he no longer had that outlet. Nothing but having Justin there in his arms would work now. Nothing but pressing his body, hot and sweaty and naked against Justin would abate any of the old emotional baggage. It was extremely frustrating because all Brian wanted to do was move on. He was tired of living in the past and as long as those damn nightmares persisted he knew he’d never be free of all that shit.

Justin arrived back in Pittsburgh Thanksgiving morning. He took the train from New York City and was walking in the door at Debbie’s just after 11am.

He was swarmed immediately, by Jennifer, Debbie, and Emmett. Everyone else held back, smiling and offering him their congratulations. Brian had told them of Justin’s art show when he’d arrived that morning, finally explaining the reason Justin had been traveling back and forth to New York so much. He left the bigger announcement for Justin to make, though.

As they sat down at the table, squashed together like an oddly mismatched extended family would be, barely fitting even though the living room had been cleared of furniture and the dinner spread was set out in the larger room, Justin made his announcement.

Brian, knowing what was coming simply smirked, his arm around Justin’s shoulders. He watched the faces of his friends – his family – as Justin invited all of them to the opening of the show, December 22nd, in New York City. Everyone started talking at once, excitedly, and just as Debbie opened her mouth to no doubt voice her concerns about getting affordable accommodations in the city just a week before what was undoubtedly the biggest tourism draw to that city, New Years Eve, Justin spoke once again.

“And we,” he indicated between he and Brian, “have rented out a large brownstone house just a few blocks from the gallery, for all of you to stay for the entire weekend.”

“Oh my God, Sunshine!” Debbie burst into tears then, grinning madly.

“Christmas in New York City!” Michael grinned, meeting Brian’s gaze and nodding his appreciation.

“You two,” Jennifer said then, her eyes shining as he beamed at Brian and Justin.

“Okay, enough,” Brian grumbled. It was only for show, though. It made him incredibly happy to see everyone so excited.

“Yes, let’s eat,” Debbie clapped her hands together before turning to Carl with the carving knife so he could do the honors.

Eight hours later Brian was leading Justin out of Debbie’s, anxious to get the other man back to the loft so he could fuck his brains out. He’d been sporting a partial-woody all afternoon and being so close to Justin, yet not being able to touch him or kiss him how he really wanted too was making him crazy with desire and finally, he could no longer withstand the ache in his groin. There were too many damn people in Deb’s house to have a surreptitious rendezvous in the bathroom. Plus, Brian had too much respect for Debbie to do that in her house. Maybe in his younger years but not know.

Shit, he really was growing up.

Lindsay had left hours earlier, Gus and JR in tow, gone to her parents for the remainder of the weekend which gave Brian the opportunity to spend as much time as he wanted and needed with Justin. It was nice, knowing he didn’t have to rush home to take care of Gus, or Lindsay. Not that he minded it; not most of the time. But having the freedom to lie in bed all day, or fuck Justin on the couch in the middle of the afternoon, was enticing.

When Lindsay had told Brian she intended to eventually move out – he’d first been scared, and then disappointed but the longer he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. He’d miss Gus, definitely, but since the moment he’d been born Brian had never assumed he’d have a full-time role in raising him. He’d never given a single thought to what it would be like to have a child with him, day and night, every day, forever. When the accident happened and he was forced into that role it hadn’t been awful, in fact it had been and continued to be wonderful. But the things Brian had to give up to live that life had been things he hadn’t wanted to give up – not at that moment anyway. He wondered if he’d be drawn back into his old lifestyle whenever Lindsay left. He tended to doubt it – and after all he’d been out of it for so long and really, Justin was all the man he really ever needed – still, he wondered.

“What’s on your mind?” Justin’s fingers traced lazy circles on Brian’s chest.

They were lying on the bed in the loft after a long, strenuous round two. Round one had been rough and fast and up against the door; round two had been slow and careful and immensely satisfying. Brian, who simply couldn’t curb the craving for a cigarette after sex, chewed on his lower lip as he considered Justin’s question. Justin had always been able to sense when Brian wasn’t completely there, and now was no different. If Brian didn’t love the little twat so much he might find his insights into his psyche annoying, and even frightening.

“Just thinking,” Brian responded, bringing his hand up to grasp Justin’s, pressing the other man’s palm against his chest; over his heart.

“Always a dangerous sign,” Justin laughed and Brian just shook his head.

“Fuck off,” he said softly, playfully.

They were quiet for awhile, just lying there together.

“Hey,” Justin’s head was up now and he was looking at Brian with some concern on his face, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Brian murmured, lifting his head to press a soft, chaste kiss to Justin’s swollen lips before he raised his hand to cup Justin’s cheek. Justin’s skin was soft and smooth under his touch and he felt the blood-flow increase to his cock as he stared at the other man.

Brian was okay – for the most part – and he was certain he’d only get more okay as time went on.