Downloads : 
“You’re not coming with us,” Michael said immediately. Justin saw that Brian still had his biceps in that iron grip.
“The hell I’m not,” Justin replied calmly. “I’m driving.”
He looked at Brian and held out his hand. Fuck. Brian looked like shit.
Brian returned the look for a long moment, but then gave him the keys. “Get in the back, Michael.”
“I’m not sitting in the back like some kid,” Michael protested.
“Get in,” Brian said, sounding murderous.
Michael took one look at his face, and scrambled into the back of the Jeep. “Road trip, road trip! Remember, Brian?”
Brian sighed and sat in the passenger seat. “You'd best shut up, Michael.”
Justin got into the driver’s seat, noticing that he had forgotten to push back the seat earlier. Brian would have had something to say if he had tried to sit behind the wheel.
Brian apparently noted that he did not adjust the seat; he raised that eyebrow at him. Justin grinned, and set off in the direction of Pittsburgh.
“That box is at your house, right, Michael,” Justin asked.
“My mom’s house. I didn't want Ben to go snooping,” Michael said sullenly.
Brian snorted. “Yeah. It’s so much better to have your mother prying.”
Justin looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Michael shrug. “Ben would have told you. My mom wouldn’t.”
Brian sighed. “Which proves Ben is decent and you and Debbie are not.”
“My mom is decent,” Michael said defensively. “She’s on my side.”
Justin glanced over at Brian, who had his lips pulled into his mouth, staring straight ahead. Justin thought he looked sad.
He couldn’t talk to Brian about the things that mattered, not with Michael in the car. And there was no point in making small-talk. So Justin kept quiet and drove as fast as speed limits would allow.
He heaved a sigh of relief when he pulled up in front of Debbie’s house.
“I don’t think I have the key,” Michael said.
“I’ll kick in the door if you don’t,” Brian said coldly.
“You can’t do that, my mom might get robbed.”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Christ, Michael. Any thief who breaks into this joint will return bearing gifts!”
“That’s so not fair,” Michael said. “Just because you can afford expensive shit like that sofa.”
“Don’t talk to me about fair. You wouldn’t know how much the damn sofa cost if you hadn’t spied on me,” Brian replied. “Shut your mouth and open the fucking door. I know full well that you always carry those keys with you.”
Sighing, Michael fished for the keys. He pulled them out of his jeans-pocket with visible reluctance and unlocked the door with yet another deep sigh.
“Do you really want those letters? Some of them are really annoying!”
“Fuck. You read them? All of them?”
Michael shrugged. “Sure. I thought I’d find out things. But there wasn’t much there.”
“I guess it's lucky you didn’t just burn them,” Justin commented. Right now, he felt like strangling the idiot.
“I couldn’t burn them. They were Brian’s,” Michael said, as though that was an explanation.
Brian huffed. “Let’s just get those fucking letters and get out of here. Justin, is any of your stuff still here?”
Justin shook his head.
“He didn’t have much until you took him shopping,” Michael said with a nasty smirk.
Brian frowned at him. “That’s because Justin doesn’t steal.”
“I don’t steal,” Michael protested. “I just… kept things safe for you.”
“Let’s go get them things,” Justin said.
Michael shrugged and stomped upstairs, leading the way to his room.
Justin wondered where Michael kept that box, and how big it was. He thought he knew every inch of that room.
Michael opened the door and then wavered. “I don’t really want you to see my hiding place.”
Brian shook his head. “We’re not about to come back and rob you of your comics.”
“You only want the letters back, right?”
Brian nodded, then seemed to hesitate. “Wait a sec. Do you have stuff other than the letters?”
Michael nodded proudly. “Sure. Lots. But it’s old stuff. You don’t really want that back, do you? It’s just – mementos, you know.”
“Mementos? Let me look,” Brian demanded. Justin thought he heard the earlier anger back in the smooth voice.
“I’m sure you have some of my things,” Michael said pleadingly. “That’s what friends are like, right?”
“I have none of yours,” Brian shook his head. “Friends don’t read each other’s mail, and they don’t pocket each other’s possessions. Get that box, Michael. I’m tired of your prevaricating.”
Michael stared at Justin. Justin returned the stare levelly, certain that Michael would want him out of the room.
Sure enough. “I don’t want the boy wonder here,” Michael said.
“I do,” Brian said. “Get on with it.”
The impatience Brian projected was unmistakable, and Michael finally caved after a last uncertain look at Brian's stony expression. He shrugged and pushed the bed aside, then removed a section of the wall.
“Shit, that was one big mouse,” Justin joked when he saw the large hole.
“It’s a fireplace,” Michael explained hastily. “Mom had it boarded up on my side, but I sawed through the wood one afternoon when she was working. I needed somewhere to hide my stuff.”
“How industrious of you,” Brian said grimly. “I never knew you could handle a saw.”
Michael shrugged. “School, arts and crafts, remember?” He knelt on the floor and pulled out a fair sized wooden box. Justin stared. That box with its beautiful intricate carvings was probably worth more than all of Michael’s other possessions combined.
Brian exhaled audibly. “I want that box back.”
“Shit,” Michael exclaimed, getting to his feet. “I knew you were going to say that!”
“I spent the entire school year working on that,” Brian said coldly. “It was a gift.”
“So how come Michael’s got it,” Justin asked, still admiring the work as Michael plonked it down on the bed.
Brian frowned. “The teacher insisted I should show it at the school fair. It vanished sometime during the last day. The parent in charge didn't know me, and said some boy had picked it up, giving my name. It took me some twenty years to find the mean little thief. You are a piece of shit, Novotny!”
“I know you wanted it back real bad. But it was too good for your mother,” Michael sniffed. “And I couldn't let you give it to my mother, it was so much better than my box!”
“It wasn’t for your mother, or mine, for that matter. It was for somebody else entirely,” Brian said coldly.
“Who? Shane’s mom? He did a box for her himself, didn't he?”
“None of your fucking business,” Brian said. “Give it here.”
Michael sighed with a put-upon air and opened the box. “Just let me get some of my stuff out.”
Brian stood next to him, looking over his shoulder. After a moment, he said, “There’s nothing of yours in there. All of that is mine.”
“But I really want to keep some of this stuff,” Michael whined. “You never missed any of it.”
“You have no idea what I miss and what not,” Brian said. “Do I need to look in that hole for more of my belongings?”
Justin saw Michael’s eyes flick to the former fireplace, then back to Brian. “No,” he said quickly.
Too quickly. And Brian must have seen the flicker in Michael’s eyes, too.
“Let me do the honors,” Justin said, kneeling down. “Otherwise we’ll be here all night.”
“Don’t you dare,” Michael screamed, making a move as if to throw himself at him.
Brian grabbed his arm. “Oh no you don’t.”
Justin felt to the sides of the hole. Damn, this was one big cranny. Only, he had been wrong about the mouse. This particular hole had been dug by an over-sized rat.
He felt something soft under his fingertips, something that felt oddly familiar. The fabric was smooth, cool, felt expensive. What could Michael own that was valuable?
Justin pulled. Fuck. He shot a quick look over his shoulder to see whether Brian had already seen what it was.
Judging by the dazed expression, he had. Brian’s blue Armani suit, once his favorite outfit. Which had vanished when he had forgotten to set the alarm, and Brian was robbed.
The material was a bit dusty, and smelled of mothballs. Mothballs! Justin snorted. Brian wasn’t going to want this back, that was for sure.
Justin reached in again, feeling more material. He tugged. Brian’s mocha colored suit. Also stolen that day.
Justin looked up, meeting Brian’s eyes. “You want me to keep going?”
Brian nodded mutely, his grip on Michael’s arm visibly tightening. Michael was still trying to get away from him, but he didn’t have the strength. Brian wasn't even paying him much attention, and Justin wondered whether Brian handled his horses like that? Confident, without effort.
Justin closed his eyes and just hauled everything out of that cavity in one go.
Sitting back on his haunches, Justin looked over his booty. Twelve Armani suits, four Gucci belts, six pairs of Prada shoes. Silk shirts, cashmere sweaters, designer jeans, ties. Cutlery. A Philip Starck Alessi juicer. Shit. Somehow, Michael had been involved in that robbery at the loft.
Quickly, he went through all the pockets. Brian didn’t normally have things in the pockets of his suits, and Michael had probably gone through them before. But you never knew. All the pockets were empty, save for one white silk handkerchief.
Justin got up, looking at Brian.
Brian was pale, his eyelids fluttering. He turned to Michael. “Care to explain?”
Michael shrugged. “I knew you were insured. I just wanted you to ditch the boy wonder.”
Brian bit his lip and looked at him. “I owe you an apology, Justin.”
Justin shrugged. “You don’t. Michael does.”
“Come on, Bri,” Michael said pleadingly. “You could afford to replace this shit.”
“And I could afford to replace Justin, or what? What did you do with my TV, that didn’t fit in there, did it?”
“I kept the DVD player, but I sold your TV and the computer,” Michael admitted. “There was this collection of metal robots from World War II on eBay. I wanted those, and I got them at a really good price, too! And I needed some money for the comic convention in San Diego.”
Justin swallowed, realizing it hurt because his throat was totally dry. Seriously? Michael had fenced Brian's TV so he could go to a con?
Brian sighed. “Why didn’t you just ask me for the money? You always used to. And why the fuck did you steal my files?”
“I knew there wasn’t anything in there. But a real robber wouldn’t have known that, so I had to take them. I tossed them in a dumpster.”
“You're a criminal mastermind, who would've thought. And why did you leave all of Justin’s stuff? A robber wouldn’t have known what belonged to me?”
“Well, I figured if they wanted your valuables, they’d not go for Justin's cheap underwear,” Michael smirked. “Besides, I knew you’d be twice as angry if all his shit was still there when yours wasn’t.”
Brian stared at Michael as if seeing him for the first time. Maybe he did.
Justin looked at the other man, trying to see what Brian might see.
Dark hair, which looked boring no matter what Michael did. A naive face, misleading puppy-dog eyes. There was an expression in the deep brown that Justin had seen there before; and he had seen the same expression in the eyes of Chris Hobbs when he told him he would get AIDS and die. Justin suppressed his shudder. It wouldn't do to let Brian see how much this affected him, when it had to affect Brian so much more.
Slight body, sagging shoulders; and the shabby T-shirt with a picture of the Silver Surfer enhanced the slack belly. Jeans that didn’t really fit, and scuffed sneakers with the laces open. Was the man so incapable he couldn’t tie his own laces? Or was that part of the image?
Pretend you’re sweet, a bit helpless, innocent, and simple – and get your kicks in without anybody even suspecting you. Bravo, Michael. Gotta hand it to you. You even fooled Brian, and that's no easy feat.
Brian swallowed. “Leave things as they are, Justin. The police will be very interested in this.”
“Police!” Michael squealed. “You can’t send the police here, my mom will die of shame.”
“You should have thought about that before,” Justin said angrily.
“She won’t,” Brian said coldly. “She’s fucking a cop.”
“Don’t you talk about my mom like that!”
Brian shrugged. “I need to get out of here. You make me want to puke. Justin, can you please take the box? I want to keep my hands on this petty little larcenist here.”
Justin nodded, preceding them down the stairs. Brian dragged Michael down the stairs and locked the door with one hand, still holding on to Michael. Justin saw that he pocketed the keys.
Justin opened the doors of the Jeep and put the box in front of the passenger’s seat. It didn't leave much room for Brian's legs, but he felt certain Brian didn't want Michael near that box again.
Brian roughly pushed Michael into the back of the car. “Let’s roll, Justin. We need to go past the loft.”
Justin nodded and took the once so familiar streets. He had a feeling he’d not be taking this direction again anytime soon.
Brian pulled out his cell and speed-dialed. “Hey. You home? I need to swing by, can you meet me downstairs? I’ll be there in five, tops.”
Justin glanced across at him, the set features. He remembered that, from when Brian had fired him at Vangard. He had this expression when he was really, really mad.
Minutes later, Justin stopped in front of 6, Fuller. There was somebody behind the glass door, but Justin didn’t recognize the man.
Brian opened the car door. “If Michael wants to get out, break his legs.”
Justin smirked. “Love to!”
They shared a tight smile, and Brian strode to the door.
“Let me get out, Justin,” Michael begged. “He’s going to tell the others, isn’t he?”
“If he won't, I will,” Justin said icily. “Don’t expect me to do you any favors, you moron.”
“And he’ll tell the police!” Michael’s voice rose an octave, annoying Justin with its pitch.
He turned in his seat to glare at Michael. “I sure hope he does. You deserve a life-sentence. Not for the theft, though that's bad enough. But for hurting Brian. You’re a real slimy bastard.”
“Am not. My mom was married,” Michael smirked.
“I doubt that,” Justin shot back, stopping himself from blurting out what he knew. “Everything about you is a falsehood, so probably your birth is, too.”
How odd. For the first time he was aware that Michael sometimes had pretty snappy comebacks. Then again, the guy fancied himself a writer.
Brian slipped back into the car after a brief conversation with the stranger at the door. Justin had seen him hand the man something, and was pretty certain Brian had given him the keys to Debbie’s house.
“Where now,” Justin asked.
Brian shrugged. “Home. Debbie needs to see him alive before we turn him over to the cops.”
“You're not going to turn me over to the police,” Michael whimpered. “You’re my best friend!”
Brian stared straight ahead. “I probably have been your best friend. Clearly, you never were mine.”
They rode back in hostile silence, and Justin remembered the contented hush when they had driven home from town this morning. He wanted to touch Brian, hold him close and make the pain go away. At the same time, he knew that there was more pain in store for Brian tonight. He wanted to kick Michael out of the car and run away with Brian. Justin sighed. He figured his chances of running away with Brian were rather slim.
Finally, he was able to put the car into parking in front of the mansion.
“Can you take the asshole around the back? I want to put the box in the office and go through it quick.”
Justin nodded. “You want me to send Shane in? Or Judson?”
Brian paused. Looked at him. The handsome face was impassive, but his lids were fluttering. What had been so surprising about his question?
Brian pushed his tongue into his cheek. “You come in.”
Justin nodded again and tightened his hold on Michael’s wrist. “I’ll just take out the trash.”
Brian snorted and went into the house.
“See, Judson, I knew you were just a toy for Brian,” Debbie said triumphantly. “A diversion.”
Jennifer saw Judson swallow. Before she could say anything, Shane said frostily, “I’ve never ever hit a woman before. Not even my own sister, way back when we were kids. But I’m mighty tempted right now, Debbie!”
“Don’t,” Leda said with a feral smile. “I’ll do it. Be happy to. I’ve hit lots of women, haven’t I, Mel!”
“Hit them, and hit on them,” Melanie said with a grin. They both laughed.
Lindsay came staggering onto the patio, glass firmly in hand. “Why didn't anybody tell me we were ready to eat?”
Melanie sighed. “I did. But you wanted to finish your drink first.”
Lindsay shrugged and sat next to her. “Whatever”, she muttered. Jennifer noticed that she poured herself a generous amount of whiskey, but didn't get any food. She also didn’t ask about the children. Didn’t she care?
Carl cleared his throat. “Debbie. Mail theft is a felony. Are you aware Brian could sue?”
Debbie shrugged carelessly. “He won’t. He loves Michael.”
Jim shook his head. “Don’t be so certain. I’d think it depends on how much those letters mean to him.”
“Christ, how much can a bunch of old letters mean to anyone. Letters he hasn't even read yet. At best, he’ll be pissed that Michael pocketed Justin’s letter. He shouldn’t have done that, that wasn’t right. But they're back together now, so Brian won’t mind so much.”
Carl stared at Debbie. “Jesus. Are you the same woman who insisted we find out who the boy in the dumpster was?”
Debbie looked at Carl, as if she had heard something in his tone that warned her. She smiled. “Really Carl. Brian will take it in his stride. He knows it’s just a prank.”
Carl rubbed his chin. “I hope for your sake that you’re right. This could get ugly.”
Debbie smirked. “If Brian gets out of line, I’ll just have to talk to his mother again, won’t I.”
“Will you leave Brian's fucking mother out of this,” Shane said violently. “He’s an adult. Only your Michael still needs his mommy at our age!”
Frowning, Debbie said, “I’m more worried about Michael’s remarks about Justin. Brian sure won’t like those! I just hope he won’t hit my boy again.”
“Why did he hit Michael at your party, Mel, did you ever find out,” Emmett asked.
Mel shook her head. “Lindsay tried to talk to Brian about it, but for once, he told her to fuck off.”
“Yeah,” Lindsay slurred. “So much for being bestest friends, and all that. Jerk.”
“Michael wouldn’t tell me, either,” Debbie complained. “He said Brian didn’t hear him clearly.”
Emmett tilted his head. “Brian has excellent hearing, Debbie. I’m almost certain he heard Michael way too clearly!”
Jennifer had noticed that Blake had slowly withdrawn from the group. She didn’t say anything, because she had a feeling he wanted to leave without being seen.
“Where are you going, Blake, we need to talk,” Ted said suddenly.
Blake shook his head. “I’m leaving. I won't talk to you again.”
“You’ll have to, when Brian puts me on the drug program,” Ted said confidently.
“What makes you think he’ll do that? I have a feeling you’re out of a job,” Blake stated.
Ted shrugged. “He won’t fire me for using. He kept Jeanette, didn’t he?”
Blake shook his head. “Whatever. I’m out of here. Tell Brian I’ll call him, will you, Judson?”
Judson nodded. “If you insist. You know he’d want you to stay.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Do you have somewhere to go? Do you have any money?”
Blake fixed his eyes on Ted. “Do I have any money in the bank, Mr. Accountant?”
Ted shrugged. “Your pay should be there tomorrow.”
“Should be, huh,” Blake said. “That’s comforting.”
“Wait,” Ben said. “You can use Hunter’s car, he won't mind. I’ll give you the keys.”
Blake hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks, Ben, I appreciate it.”
Judson held out some money. “Take it, Blake. Just in case our accountant made another mistake. You can pay me back when your money gets in.”
Blake bit his lip. “You’ll be in next Monday?”
“Count on it,” Judson nodded.
Blake took the money. “Thanks, Judson.”
Together with Ben he climbed the stairs to the guest rooms.
“You guys fucked up well and good,” Mel said, looking at Ted. “Why Michael of all people?”
Ted shrugged. “I get this question from the mother of his child?”
Mel sighed. “Yeah, well, I should have chosen Brian. That was a massive mistake.”
Debbie glared at her. “You keep this up and you won’t be getting child support for much longer!”
Mel laughed bitterly. “What child support? I’m not getting any now! Brian keeps a roof over our head, and bread on the table! Your Michael doesn’t even have what it takes to buy a birthday gift for his own daughter. Brian was there with presents for her, and he had sent a huge parcel full of toys ahead, telling me to say it was from Michael.”
“He’s spoiling that kid,” Lindsay grumbled. “Both kids, really.”
Debbie frowned. “But Michael said…”
“Yeah, your Michael says a lot,” Mel interrupted. “Most of it is fabrication.”
Ted sighed and shook his head. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Mel looked at him again, her gaze sympathetic. “So, why Michael?”
Ted shrugged. “I’ve been in love with Michael for years. He deserves to be loved. I really thought he wanted me now.”
Mel frowned. “You deserve to be loved. But by Michael? That’s a pipe-dream. We all know he’s still after Brian.”
Ted gave her a watery smile. “I miss you, Melanie.”
Mel smiled back. “I miss Pittsburgh, too.”
Jennifer was aware that she didn't say she missed Ted, though.
“Don’t you miss me,” Ted asked, sounding hurt.
Melanie hesitated. “I miss the old Ted. But if you’re using again… I can't afford to have you around. Not with two children to look after.”
“And two college funds to steal from,” Emmett said, giving Ted a hard, stern look. His voice sounded completely different from its normal cheery tone, and Jennifer realized that she had been quite happy to see Emmett as a cliché he wasn’t. Wait - steal from college funds? Ted had done that? Whose funds?
Ted looked at Emmett. “I won't do that again. I swear.”
“Because you won't have that chance, Teddy,” Emmett said gently. “If you're back on crystal meth, there’s no telling what you’ll do.”
“Did you give any of that shit to my Michael,” Debbie demanded suddenly. “Did you, Ted?”
Ted quickly shook his head.
Emmett sighed. “You're lying, Ted. It's already starting. Anybody in their right mind will avoid you again. Is it worth it? Was fucking Michael on Brian’s furniture worth it?”
Ted looked away.
“That must have been a dream come true for both of you,” Emmett said, his voice deeper, and just slightly dangerous. Jennifer found herself looking at sweet, camp Emmett with a whole new respect.
“Fucking you in his loft, Michael was probably pretending you were Brian. And you were pretending you were Brian, too. Freud would have a field day with you two sickos!”
“I was not pretending…”
“You were. Like that time when you borrowed the loft, the outfit, the tricks and even Brian's bracelet. You had all the accouterments, but you still couldn’t pull it off. When you were on meth the first time, you told me you hated yourself, you wanted to be the person you were when you were on the drug.”
“I didn't see it then, but now I know. With the drug in your system, you dared to be your own version of Brian Kinney. Only, where Brian has class, you have airs, and where Brian is strong, you are mulish. Where Brian has balls, you have delusions. You are Brian Kinney with clay feet. Face it, Teddy – no amount of drugs or money or beauty operations will even bring you close to being Brian. Don’t waste your life being a rotten copy of something you can never achieve. Try to be yourself, that's hard enough and good enough for your friends.”
“And he never gains an ounce,” Lindsay snorted. “Disgusting, really.”
Jennifer heard Judson sigh. He probably was as fed up with Lindsay as she was.
Ted had tears in his eyes. “Can anyone tell me how Brian does it? He doesn't even have to try, does he?”
Next to her, Tucker sighed. “No, Schmidt. Brian doesn't have to try. He never pretends to be something he isn’t.”
“It’s not fair,” Ted said. “He’s got it all. Beauty. Money. Sex. Justin.”
Judson laughed softly. “He’ll share all that, but stay away from Justin. He’ll have you drawn and quartered before you can say fuck.”
“You don’t understand,” Ted burst out. “Nobody understands. You don’t know what it’s like being ugly and unimportant and not particularly smart or interesting, having to watch beautiful, brilliant Brian Kinney, day in and day out.”
“Watch Brian take a hot trick home, and you know he’s going to be fucking all night. Still, when he gets into the office, he looks like a Greek god. And you just know he didn't get much sleep, if any at all. But he’s still dazzling and sharp, and the clever ideas keep coming. He convinces clients, because he’s fucking gorgeous Brian Kinney. And whether you walk into a restaurant with him, or into a bar, or across an airport – heads turn and he’ll have thirty people hitting on him before you even opened the menu or handed over your ticket!”
Shane shrugged. “I’ve been watching Brian for some twenty years, Schmidt. I admire him, I adore him. But I never wanted to be him.”
“Much too stressful,” Tucker agreed, grinning.
Shane shrugged again. “There’s only one Brian Kinney. Why even try to compete with that?”
“I think some of you are missing the fact that Brian wasn’t born that way,” Justin said, dragging Michael after him onto the patio.
“Brian works his ass off for his money, and he works his ass off for his looks,” Justin looked pointedly at Michael’s pouch. “You guys never took the work-outs seriously; you only went to the gym for the scenery.”
“So did Brian,” Ted disagreed.
Justin shrugged. “Whatever. Can I trouble you to keep little Michael here out of trouble and on the patio, guys? Brian asked me to join him in the office.”
“Yeah, and we all wonder what you’re going to do there,” Michael said nastily. “Not.”
Justin favored him with an unsympathetic look, and not for the first time, Jennifer saw the man behind her boy’s face. He had once looked at Craig like that. “You sure you want me to tell everybody what we’re going to do, Michael?”
“Fuck off, Justin.”
Justin looked at Shane. “Don’t let him run away, Brian has something to say to him.”
Shane nodded. “You got it. I’ll sit on him, if necessary.”
“They didn't hit you, honey, now did they,” Debbie asked.
Justin snorted. “Hitting that piece of shit is too good for him. You’ll find your son is not quite as wonderful as you think.”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” Debbie asked. “What did you do now, Michael?”
“Nothing,” Michael said sullenly, filling a plate to the brim with fettuccine. “Nothing at all, Mom. Brian has blown it all out of proportion.”
Jennifer couldn't believe his nerve.
“Brian,” Tucker said doubtfully. “He’s one of the most reasonable men I know.”
“Yeah, reasonable,” Ted scoffed. “He's the epitome of drama queen.”
Emmett shook his head. “He’s not. When Brian has a fit, he has a reason.”
Michael brought his plate to the table and sat down to eat. “You didn’t use to like Brian. What’s changed, Em?”
“He grew on me,” Emmett smiled. “Brian is rather sweet when you really get to know him.”
“Before or after fucking,” Ted said.
Emmett just shook his head, and Calvin put an arm around him and drew him close.
