Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

Dear Mr. K.-3
Author: Elsa Rose
Plot Bunny: Bitca78

March 2, 2001

Dear Mr. K,

Did you notice that little hint of spring that’s been in the air lately? I love this time of year. The kid is doing great in school, and he’s even working these days. Who could ask for more? It’s actually rather nice to see how he’s changed since the day I brought him home from the street. He seems to have a purpose in life. He’s set goals, and he’s working toward them.

I had goals and hopes and dreams at his age. I guess there’s no point in warning him about honey-tongued lovers. I know I sure as fuck wouldn’t have listened when I was seventeen. Hell, I didn’t listen when I was twenty, and for that matter, at twenty-six I wasn’t much brighter.

I look at Dawg, and realize that I was kind of like him. He believes us when we shower praise on him, and snuggles close with grateful affection. We can chastise him or hit him on the rump with a newspaper, and he comes right back, tongue out, tail wagging; kind of like I did. I wag a mean tail. (attempt at levity here) Mr. K.

The days and nights are definitely longer now that I’m not creating donuts. I think I’ll have to come up with something to do.  Walking Dawg can hardly be called a career move.  

For some damn reason the kid has decided that he’s going to be the next creative advertising genius of the free world. But shit, he hasn’t a clue what the hell he’s doing. He spent hours working on some boards for dog food, and to say they suck, well, that’s polite. I finally couldn’t stand it any longer, and had to show him where he went wrong. I swear to gawd he couldn’t stop grinning. You’d think he’d never seen anyone draw before! I mean, it was only a few quick sketches so he’d get the point.

Dawg and I are enjoying the spring like weather. We head to the river every day so that he can chase sticks and do whatever it is dogs do when they have some free space to run around.  I may just dig out the old sketchbook one of these days and record Dawg for posterity.

Meanwhile, I’m looking for that white cottage with the roses. I think Dawg could use a yard to run around in, and the kid can learn to mow a lawn. Every boy and his dog should have a lawn to pee on and mow.

The kid is close to getting his driver’s license. It’s amazing what a little bit of money thrown in the direction of a driving school can do to inspire them to teach the ins and outs of manoeuvring a lethal weapon on wheels. I think I’m spoiling him and putting all my hopes and dreams in a virtual stranger, someone I’ve only known for three months. Apparently, like I mentioned before, my learning curve needs a tune up.

Oh, the kid made me a birthday cake. How cool was that? I’ve never had one made with such love – fuck, there I am swearing again! But you get the point. He was so proud of that cake. It was my favourite, of course, chocolate with raspberry mousse filling. He even made a mini version, complete with candle for Dawg, not using chocolate, but some kind of stuff that looks like chocolate and tastes like chocolate, but won’t hurt the hound. Dawg was impressed and so was I.

I’d better stop so I can catch the mail pick up. Thanks, Mr. K., for listening. I think I can almost cut out the letters, so don’t be surprised if I don’t write as often. I’m feeling better these days about life in general. I’ve even packed hubby in a box, along with the rest of his stuff. The kid says I won’t be cured until we have a ceremonial throwing of hubby off the same bridge he jumped from, only this time he’ll sink in his full metal jacket like a rock. Never to be seen or heard of again.

It seems rather final.

Thinking of you often, whoever and wherever you may be in the Pitts.

J


Justin finished the letter and a sketch of himself at the table writing a letter. He held it up and decided to add Dawg to the drawing, since the dog was lying on the table, watching him write. It was starting to feel good to sketch the odd thing. His heart no longer felt like it was going to jump out of his chest when his pencil hit paper. Justin smiled to himself, and he realized that it was a genuine smile, a smile that warmed his insides. It had been awhile since that had happened.

He almost balled the letter up and threw it away. Maybe it was time to stop writing, and maybe it was time to get on with his life. Justin looked over at Hunter who was industriously working on his advertising campaign. He reached over and scratched Dawg’s head, resisting the urge to kiss the honey-colored forehead. Instead, he gave him a short belly rub before standing up. “I’m going to mail my letter. Do you want anything when I’m out?” Justin asked Hunter.

“Get Dawg off the table. You spoil him. It’s unhygienic having a dog sleep on the table.” Hunter hid his grin.

“He’s on a pillow; he’s not on the table,” Justin defended.

“He’s on a pillow on the table. You’re stretching a point, Justin.” Hunter shook his head. “Can you pick up some donuts?”

“Can you possibly eat something else?” Justin picked the dog up and set him on the floor. Dawg wagged his tail and headed for his leash. He knew the routine.

“I like donuts.”

“I’ll buy you cookies.”

“I make cookies, I don’t make donuts,” Hunter snickered. “I want some jelly ones. You know you made the best jelly donuts.”

“Apparently, you’re a cheering section of one. Justin laughed. “If you’ll recall, jelly donuts were the end of my job.”

“You hated that job.”

“So, but that doesn’t mean I planned on getting fired. I wanted to quit.” Justin shrugged on a lighter jacket. “Dawg hates donuts. We’ll buy cookies.”

“Get something good,” Hunter said to the closing door.

Brian stood across the street. He wasn’t sure why he was watching the tattoo parlor and the windows of the apartment above it. He pulled Hunter’s home address from his files, and decided to find out for himself what the mysterious Justin looked like and maybe they’d meet. There was something almost compelling about the desire to see this letter writer for himself  

He startled when the blond appeared, a small, honey-colored dog on an orange leash with him. The two began to make their way toward the mailbox. The blond talked while the dog listened intently as they strolled along. Impulsively, Brian dashed across the street, hoping to intercept the two of them. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, or if he was going to say anything.

“Excuse me,” Brian began, pretending to brush into Justin. “Nice dog.”

“Sorry, we weren’t watching where we were going.” Justin smiled up into friendly, hazel eyes.

“I can understand that. There’s lots to smell.” Brian grinned.

Justin smiled and turned to the mailbox. He dropped the letter he’d been carrying in the box, and then pulled on Dawg’s leash. “Come on, Dawg.” Justin smiled shyly at Brian before turning and heading toward the market.




Brian went back to the loft. Justin was handsome, but painfully unsure of himself, his beauty, and his worth. He knew if it was in the cards that he could have a chance to meet the blond and have some kind of relationship with him at all, he couldn’t begin anything with a lie. So taking a big chance, Brian picked up a pen and began to write.



March 2nd, 2001

Dear Mr. T,

I have to be honest with you, as you have been with me. I accidentally discovered your identity. We won’t go into how it happened right now, but I have seen you on the street. What I propose is for you to get to know me, the same way I’ve gotten to know you; through the mail.

That’s why I’m writing now. I don’t want you to disappear, or worse yet retreat back into the man I first came to know in January. I want us to be honest with each other. I could have picked you up on the street; wined you and dined you, or maybe just shown up at your door, but I haven’t. I’m at your mercy. You call the shots.

By the way, your dog is oddly cute for a dog. I mean he’s strange looking, but friendly, I guess that’s good in a dog. Of course, never having owned a dog, I’m not sure about that. Aren’t they supposed to be on guard or something? Just asking.

I have to tell you, I know ‘the kid’ you refer to in your letters. We can actually call him Hunter unless you prefer ‘kid’. Again, not having a lot of ‘kid’ experience, other than having been one at one time, he seems okay. He’s a hard worker and determined to make you proud of him, although I suspect you already are. You should tell him that; he’d liked to hear it from you, I’m sure.

Since I know what you look like, I’m enclosing a picture of what I look like. We met earlier in the street. I was the clumsy guy by the mailbox.

The reason why your letters ‘spoke’ to me is an easy one. You remind me of me, a younger me, a much younger me. But we’re somewhat alike in our outlook on things. No, I haven’t fallen in love with anyone. I’ve never given anyone a chance at my heart and, therefore, it’s remained intact. Some might even say hard, but that’s for another letter.

I grew up in Pittsburgh on the wrong side of the tracks. Wrong for some, although if you were Irish working class, I guess it was the right side. I was raised in a – well, less then child-friendly household. The first opportunity I had, I escaped – it wasn’t much of an escape, but when I was fourteen I met a guy at school who became my best friend and lifeline to reality, and the world of happy families who didn’t have their own drunken wife beater in residence. His name is Mikey and I hope you’ll meet him someday. He’s kind of like your dog, friendly and strangely loyal. So don’t take offence at anything he might say when you meet him.

Oh, I have been promiscuous in the past, not so much any more. In fact, I’m beginning to suspect age is catching up to me, and I would like to find someone compatible to have a relationship with. By the way, the ‘R’ word has always had a four-letter word connotation to me, although I’m beginning to be able to say it out loud without stuttering. (That’s supposed to be funny.)

So what do you say, Mr. T., are you going to give me a chance?

Brian Kinney


Taking a cue from Justin, Brian attempted to draw a picture of himself, even though it looked more like a stick figure with hives. He also enclosed a photo he’d taken at his desk with the aid of a digital camera and a timer.

Rather than rely on the mail, Brian walked the few blocks to Justin’s address and slipped the letter into his mailbox.




Justin noticed an envelope sticking out of his mailbox when he took Dawg  for his before-bedtime walk. He didn’t think much of it, as Joel from the tattoo parlor often left him notes regarding his shop.

Dawg was caught up in sniffing something or someone in the lobby and began to trail, which to Justin was annoying because he really wanted him to pee and get it over with. Dawg had other ideas; with his tail wagging and nose to the ground, he was off, a mini sled dog pulling with all his might as he began to track.  Justin couldn’t help but laugh at the determination of the small, honey-colored dog. Rather than discourage him, he let himself be pulled forward, glad that the streets weren’t as busy in the late evening; otherwise, he’d be running over everyone.

“What do you think you are, a bloodhound?” Justin muttered as they raced across the street to the corner. Dawg looked back over his shoulder at Justin as if to say, ‘of course he’s part bloodhound, way back in his ancestry.’

Two blocks later, Dawg began to head up the steps to Woody’s. “Sorry, Buddy, but no dogs are allowed in here.” Justin laughed. ”Who knew you were a gay boi dog?” He bent down and scooped up his errant pup and headed down the street, and when he got to the corner he put Dawg on the pavement. With a small whine, he looked back and the dog agreed to head to the apartment.

Justin thought of leaving the envelope in his mailbox for the next day, and then as he headed for the stairs decided to grab it.

“What took you guys so long? I was getting worried,” Hunter said from his position in front of the television.

“Dawg was trailing somebody to Woody’s.” Justin grinned. “Or he wanted a beer.”

Hunter snorted, “There’s no way he’s gay.”

“What can I say? I’m a bad influence on him. Maybe you should walk him once in awhile.”  Dawg ran over and jumped on the sofa with Hunter, giving him sloppy doggy kisses. “See, he’s after your body.”

“Ewwwwe,” Hunter said and wrestled Dawg into submission. Soon the two of them were occupied with a late night rerun of CSI.

Justin headed to his bedroom. He wanted to surf the net. He’d long ago moved his laptop into his bedroom on a newly purchased desk. Hunter having his own computer had lessened the arguments over computer time. Justin tossed the letter on his desk and headed for the shower, and then thinking better of it turned around and sat down, ripping open the envelope. He laughed out loud at the stick figure that was drawn at the bottom of the page.  Then suddenly sober, he realized that the name beside it was Brian Kinney.

Justin felt himself go cold, then hot. He threw the unread letter back on his desk as if it had burned his fingers. He backed away from the desk until his legs hit his bed, where he sat down abruptly, his eyes still on the page that lay innocently open.

Questions flooded his mind about what Brian Kinney would be writing about. His breath caught, and he reached for his inhaler, something he’d rarely had to use since the calming effect of the letters he’d been writing was helping him. Justin threw himself backward on the bed and stared at the ceiling, doing his best to quell his panic. That would be all he needed - to have Hunter find him in a complete panic attack. The boy had never seen him at his worst.

Dawg began whining at his door, his claws scratching the wood, demanding to be let in, but Justin ignored him. He couldn’t deal with anything right now, least of all the dog.

He listened to Hunter’s feet padding towards his door; the handle turned and the dog bounded in and up on the bed, continuing to whine, only now he’d buried his nose in Justin’s neck, offering what comfort he could.

“Dawg wants to see you,” Hunter said before closing the door and returning to his show.  He didn’t think anything was unusual because Justin often had his light turned off.

Justin blinked back tears that threatened to fall. It was one thing to cut himself off from his Brian Kinney lifeline letters, and quite another for the man to discover his secret identity and do it for him. His phone rang, and Justin automatically reached over and picked it up. Why he did it, he’d think about later. No one ever called him.

 “Hello?” Justin’s voice was soft and hesitating.

“Is this Justin Taylor?” a man’s voice asked. The words were gravelly, though hesitant and sexy all at once.

“Yes,” Justin answered.

“Did you read the letter?”

“Who is this?” Justin asked. “If this is Brian Kinney, and you’ve called to make sure I never contact you again; okay, I get the point.” Justin was about to hang up the phone; the tears were now more than a threat.

“DON’T HANG UP!” Brian shouted.

“Why not?” Justin asked, having managed to rescue the phone before it hit (the) disconnect.

“You didn’t read the letter, did you?” Brian’s voice was softer now.

“No, but it’s on my desk.”

“That’s a start. I’ll wait here while you read it.”

“Why?”

“Would you just read it, for fuck sake?” Brian rolled his eyes heavenward and lay back on his bed. This was going to be harder than he’d thought.

Justin pulled himself upright and took the letter off the desk. He turned on the small light beside his bed. “I’m reading it,” he whispered into the phone.

It didn’t take long, and when he was done he didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or be angry. “Uh, Mr. K…”

“I think you can safely call me Brian. It’s not like I’m that much older than you are.”  Brian huffed a laugh and smiled up at the ceiling.

“Brian, I don’t know what to say. I guess I have to ask; if you wrote the letter, why did you phone?”

“I had a feeling that you might panic when you saw the letter. I wrote it and dropped it off on impulse. After sitting in Woody’s, it dawned on me that you might think I’ve overstepped the bounds of anonymous letter receiver.”

“I’m not sure there are rules about that,” Justin replied; his sense of humor was returning. “You are the guy I saw coming out of Woody’s one other time. I didn’t know that you were Mr. K at the time, but I was taken with your air of well-being and confidence.”

“Were you in Starbucks, and did you draw me on a napkin?” Brian asked. The napkin in question lay tucked in his dresser drawer.

“Yes, that’s me. I do that all the time, draw things unconsciously,” he shrugged; not that Brian could see it. “I like to think I don’t do any kind of art any longer, but I guess I do.” He could see the drawings on his wall. He’d kept the faces anonymous enough looking, but still he knew it was Brian standing there on Woody’s steps. Maybe now he could fill in where he’d left purposely shadowed.

“I’m glad you didn’t stop drawing altogether," Brian said. “You’ve got some great talent, Justin.”

“I do?”

“I’m not saying that to flatter you. I don’t do things like that unless you’re a client.” Brian laughed. “I really believe you do have talent. I’m sure that the day will come when you’ll be very well known for your artistry.”

Justin flushed in pleasure. “I’m glad you called. You were right; I was freaking out about your letter.”

“I thought so." Brian paused for a moment, not sure how this was going to go. “Should we continue, writing, I mean, or would you actually like to meet? No strings attached, just two friends meeting for coffee or lunch or a walk in the park with your dog.”

“I’d like that,” Justin smiled, his grin wide. “I’d really like that, Brian.”

“You know I run Kinnetik, don’t you?” Brian asked.

“No, but I do now, and I know how you found me.” Justin looked at his closed door. “It was Hunter. That’s where he works, although he didn’t know about us.”

“I didn’t think he did. You should know Hunter is as proud of you as you are of him. He couldn’t help but brag about you and Dawg. Being smarter than the average bear, I managed to put two and two together and come up with the answer to my mystery.”

“I’m glad. I was going to stop writing, and we might never have met,” Justin admitted. “I guess we still haven’t met officially.”

“Not officially, but if you’d like to stop by Kinnetik tomorrow, I could take you out to lunch or we could have something sent in.”

“Maybe we should have something in your office. I’ll have Dawg with me, and I’m not sure, yet about actually being out with anyone. I’m sorry Brian, I know I’m kind of lame about all of this, but it’s a surprise, and I’m not sure I’m ready to start whatever it is you want.”

“Friendship, J; friendship, that’s what we’re starting with. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon. Now sleep well, and, J, if you feel like you want to talk, you have my number now. I expect you to call; it’s much faster than the mail, and I promise I won’t bite.”

“Thanks,” Justin said, his voice soft.

“Later, J.” Brian laughed before hanging up.

The sound of Brian’s laughing farewell had gone directly to Justin’s cock. He looked at his lap in surprise as he hung up the phone. So it did still work. Amazing, he thought.




“How did you meet him, Mr. Kinney, I mean?” Hunter asked. He’d been watching Justin take off and put on clothes for almost an hour. “I think you should wear the green sweater.”

“It makes me look fat,” Justin said and he threw it on the end of his bed.

“Like anything is going to make you look fat! You look like you have some kind of wasting disease,” Hunter snorted, “or you’re addicted to crack.”

“What do you know about crack addictions?” Justin replied, hoping to take the teen's mind off what he was doing.

“I hear things. I was on the street, if you’ll recall, and I’m not blind.” Hunter winced; his days on the street still hurt him.

“Well, I don’t do drugs.”

“You smoke weed.”

“Not much or often.” Justin looked at himself in the mirror. His blue turtleneck sweater would have to do. It was cashmere and had always been his favorite, even though Ethan hated him wearing it.

“So how did you meet Mr. Kinney? You weren’t checking up on me, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t checking up on you. I had no idea you even knew him.”

“You knew I worked at Kinnetik,” Hunter remarked while scratching Dawg’s belly.

“And I’m supposed to connect that to knowing who owned the damn place?” Justin snorted. “You give my sense of ESP more power than it has.” He turned and looked at Hunter, “How do I look?” he asked.

“Like a geek; no one wears sweaters like that.”  Hunter smiled at Justin. “No straight boy, that is.”

“Good, then I know it’s the right thing to wear.”

“You’re only going there for lunch. He’s not even taking you out to a restaurant. I can’t believe he’s so cheap.”

“I told him I didn’t want to go to a restaurant. I’m happy just meeting him.” Justin glanced at the closet where the urn resided. “It's been a long time since I’ve been out with a guy.”

“And it’ll be even longer. You’re having lunch in his office.” Hunter laughed. He stood up and then bent over to pick up the dog. “I guess I’m going to be the dog sitter, unless you’re taking Dawg with you.”

“I was going to.”

“There is no way I’m letting you hide behind Dawg. I know what you’d do. You’d never look at Mr. Kinney, just at Dawg.”

“I would not.” Justin glared at him. But he knew his young friend was probably right. Dawg would make a good point of interest, something to watch when he couldn’t form words or acted like a two-year old away from his parents for the first time.

“And, no, you can’t take the ‘piece of shit asshole bastard’ with you.” Hunter kicked the closet door for emphasis. “I’m surprised you don’t have him stuffed in a pillow or a teddy bear or something, so you can be the eccentric artist and carry him around.”

“You are really being an asshole today. What the fuck is your problem?” Justin asked. “It’s not like I’m going to fall madly in love with Brian Kinney, and go off into the sunset with him, leaving you and Dawg to live out your lives in solitude over a tattoo parlor.”

”Now who's being the asshole?” Hunter said, as he turned his back on Justin so that the older man couldn’t see that there had been some truth in what he’d said.

“Hunter.” Justin came up behind the boy and put his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “No matter what happens with me and my life, you’ll always have a place with me. That’s a promise, and I don’t give promises lightly.”

“You don’t have to say stuff like that.” Hunter turned and stared at Justin. “I know how the real world is.”

“It’s not my world.” Justin gave the boy a quick hug. He may be taller than Justin and have a bigger body, but he was still a seventeen-year-old boy. “I’ve even made sure legally that you would be protected if anything happened to me. You never know, I could be hit by a bus tomorrow.”

“Right,” Hunter said, but laughed slightly. “Go make Mr. Kinney fall madly in love with you. He’s a nice guy; you could do worse. Actually, you have done worse.” He attempted to joke, and nodded at the closet door.

“Take care of Dawg.” Justin put on his heavy tweed jacket. The blue fleck in the tweed stood out even more now that he was wearing the cashmere sweater. He looked hot and he knew it.

“Dawg and I will stay in and eat hot dogs for lunch.” He looked at the dog in his arms. “Er, we’ll eat wieners.”

Justin was laughing as he headed down the stairs to the street. He walked outside, and was surprised to see Brian standing there, lounging against a streetlight.

“Hey, I was going to your office,” Justin said, suddenly shy.

“What a coincidence; that’s where I’m heading.” Brian laughed, and his laugh brought color to Justin’s cheeks. “You look amazing,” Brian said and bent down, kissing Justin’s cheek. “Sorry, J, I couldn’t resist.”

Justin shut his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t believe Brian had kissed his cheek. The touch of his lips burned, and he looked up at the taller man, not sure what to say.

“Don’t say a word, J.” Brian’s voice was husky. He took Justin’s hand and tucked it through his arm. The two men began to walk down the busy street toward Kinnetik.

Justin couldn’t make his voice work. He was nervous at first as they walked arm in arm down the street. Brian didn’t talk to him; he just walked along in silence, nodding to people he knew and walking as if Justin was the most important person in his universe.

“We’re here,” Brian announced, even though Justin was well aware they were standing at the door of Kinnetik. “Let me know what you think. I decorated it myself.”  He placed his hand on the center of Justin’s back, steering him through the door. “What do you think?” he asked, looking at Justin’s face almost as if he was seeking approval from the blond.

“It’s wonderful.” Justin stepped away from Brian and turned slowly, taking in everything with his artist’s eye.   “Brian, that picture, where did you get it?” Justin’s eyes were big when he looked at the focal point of the main wall.

“I picked it up a couple of years ago in New York. Some guy was selling off a number of paintings. I liked them all, but this one kind of spoke to me.” He looked at Justin, “Do you see it, how the swirls of colors look almost like they’re trying to escape?”

“I see it.” Justin was quiet. “I always wondered what had happened to my work. I came home one day and everything was gone. There wasn’t even so much as a paintbrush left. He said...he said it was all crap, and he was tired of it cluttering up our apartment.”

“Well, I paid the guy ten grand for the crap,” Brian snorted. “He was a kind of a greasy-haired guy, about your height; he’d rented a storefront to sell off the paintings.”

“Ethan,” Justin whispered. “His name was Ethan.” He turned to Brian and smiled, even though his eyes were bright with tears. “This was always a favorite of mine. I put a lot of myself into it. I’m glad you have it. It was the last painting I ever did.”

Brian put his arm around Justin’s shoulders. “I’m glad I have it, too,” he whispered, almost too soft for Justin to hear. “It might be the last painting you did in that era, but it won’t be the last painting you ever do.”

“I don’t have the same urge to create,” Justin said, not minding that Brian was leading him down a hallway, perhaps to his office. As he said the words, Justin realized that Brian was right; he would paint again. He had to, it was part of who he was, and it had been Brian that awakened that part of him.

“Let’s go in here and discuss that statement.” Brian opened the door to his office. A small table had been set up in one corner. He’d obviously had lunch catered.

“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.” Justin smiled, but he was glad that Brian did. It made him feel important, and it was a great beginning to their friendship.

“It isn’t any trouble, J.” Now, it was Brian’s turn to be almost shy. He’d never done anything like this before for anyone.

“Hey, Brian.” Both men turned to stare at the man standing in Brian’s door.

“Hey, Mikey; haven’t you ever heard that knocking is the thing to do when a door is shut? It’s generally shut for a reason.” Brian’s voice drawled slowly, but it was edged with a harshness his friend hadn’t heard often. “I’m sorry. Justin, this is an old friend, Michael Novotny. Mikey, this is my very good new friend, Justin Taylor.”

Even Michael could hear the affection in Brian’s voice when the man introduced him to Justin.

“Uh, hi,” Michael said. He kept looking between Brian and Justin. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to come to the diner with me for lunch, but I guess you have plans.”

“How good of you to notice.” Brian looked at his friend, “I’ll call you, Mikey… later.”

“Yeah, sure, Brian,” Michael started to back out the door. “Good to meet you, Justin.”

Justin nodded, not trusting his voice. He wasn’t used to meeting new people. It was enough that he’d met Brian in person, and no doubt had Brian not been outside his door, he probably would have chickened out.

Brian got up and closed and locked his office door. He turned back to Justin. “I’m sorry, J, I wasn’t planning on being interrupted.”

Justin smiled, “It’s okay. It was kind of nice to meet one of your friends. Do you know I never did meet any friends of Ethan?”

“Let’s not mention him.” Brian put his hand over Justin’s, “As far as I am concerned the man is dead, and that’s a good place for him.”

Justin giggled slightly. “He is kind of dead.”

“Have some salad.” Brian lifted the silver dome off Justin’s lunch plate. “For what it’s worth, Justin, as long as you let me stay in your life, you’ll always be part of mine. And that means you have to put up with my family and friends. There aren’t many of them, but they are very, very annoying most of the time.”

“But you love them,” Justin smiled.

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

Tbc.




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