“Whether we see each other next weekend, next month...never again...doesn’t matter. It’s only time.”

*****

“All I’m saying is, someone should have called Justin.”

The blonde young man standing outside the door to the diner was surprised to hear his name in a conversation coming from inside.

“Brian told me not to. What was I supposed to do, go against his wishes and do it anyway?” Justin recognized this voice -- Michael.

“I know he told you not to. I was there.” Ben. “I said it then, and I’ll say it again now: It’s disrespectful to Justin to not tell him, or at least warn him ahead of time. Can you imagine what it’s going to be like Justin walks in and sees him?”

Justin was too lost in his own thoughts to listen to the next line in the conversation. What was it going to be like when he walked in and saw who? He and Brian weren’t beholden to each other -- they were always free to go, free to move on at any time. There were no locks on their doors. If Brian had someone new, it was really none of Justin’s business. Why on earth would Ben think it would be? Or that someone should call him to warn him?

He left the questions hanging unanswered in his mind as he stamped the snow off his shoes, pulled the door open, and stepped into the familiar space -- the diner where he’d worked, hung out, and basically grown up a whole hell of a lot in the five years he spent on Liberty Avenue. The conversation at the booth closest to the door abruptly ceased the second he walked in, but Justin didn’t have much time to further consider what he’d overheard, because before he knew it, a familiar voice cried, “Sunshine!” and he almost instantly found himself enveloped in one of Debbie Novotny’s bone-crushing hugs.

“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart!” she said as she released him from the hug and looked him up and down. “You’re skin and bones, honey...don’t they have food in New York?”

Justin laughed, “Yes, they have food in New York.” He didn’t bother telling her that most of the time he lived on spaghetti, ramen, canned soup, and potatoes -- ah, the life of a starving artist. Regardless, he knew Debbie was going to be force-feeding him cheeseburgers and fries the entire time he was in Pittsburgh.

He shrugged out of his coat and sat down with Michael and Ben. Naturally, the first thing they wanted to know was how things were going for him in New York. Things weren’t bad, but they weren’t exactly what he’d wanted or expected, either. He knew his artwork was good, but there were a lot more artists in New York than there were in Pittsburgh...more people competing for limited show and gallery space. He’d scored a couple of shows, and a few sales at each one, but nothing huge. He felt like he made the majority of his meager earnings painting commissioned portraits of rich old ladies’ grandchildren. Definitely not the dream he had in mind when he moved there. When he chose to give up his relationship -- his almost marriage -- with Brian. Brian, who had apparently now moved on with someone else.

*****

Even after Justin went back to his mother’s condo that evening, he couldn’t get the conversation he’d overheard earlier out of his head. Couldn’t move his mind away from the man he’d once loved so deeply...and still did, if he was being honest with himself. They didn’t need rings or vows to prove that they loved each other. And they were always free to go, to move on -- they were never trapped by a promise or expectation of monogamy. When Justin left for New York, he knew Brian was letting him go -- giving him the opportunity to spread his wings and fly. To be the best homosexual he could possibly be.

The day he’d walked out the door of the loft to catch a plane to New York, Justin honestly didn’t know what would happen to their relationship. Of course it would change -- 400 miles between you will do that -- but he didn’t know how or when it would. Would they be constantly on planes, shuttling back and forth to each other with 90-minute flights every other weekend? Would Brian take a week off from work to spend in the city with Justin in his tiny bedroom in the hole-in-the-wall apartment he shared with Daphne’s friend? Would Justin be so lovesick he’d have to come back to Pittsburgh or risk going insane? Would Brian decide to finally fulfill his longtime dream of moving to New York?

None of those things were how it had played out. The only thing he and Brian had exchanged since he left for New York were phone calls. It was a strange shift in a relationship that had always been so tactile, to suddenly be so out of touch. They spoke on the phone once a week, always on Wednesday. Justin really looked forward to their conversations, even though it made him miss Brian’s touch even more. They’d kept up the regular schedule really well most of the time. Justin remembered one week about six or seven months before when he’d called Brian on his cell phone at their usual time and the call went straight to voicemail.

“You’ve reached Brian Kinney,” it said. “You know what to do.”

Justin didn’t leave a message.

He’d tried again the next night and got the same thing. He tried to play it off, to be nonchalant -- to assume that Brian had simply forgotten to tell him about some trade conference or something. And he’d resisted the urge to ask about the missed calls when Brian had called him the next week, sounding really tired and a little out of sorts, but somehow still managing to follow their usual script: How was Justin’s latest project coming along? Had Brian heard from Gus lately? How was the family?

Six weeks after that call, Brian’s home phone number changed when he told Justin he got a new apartment. Justin had to admit he was a little surprised that Brian would ever consider giving up his fuckpad. Now, he was wondering if perhaps that had been when Brian had moved in with this mysterious new beau that everyone was keeping from Justin. And he also had to wonder why on earth Brian wouldn’t just tell him that he’d found someone new. They still talked once a week -- they’d just spoken on the phone three days ago, talking about Justin’s plans to come to Pittsburgh for Christmas. Laughing about Debbie threatening to come to New York and drag him back to the Pitts herself if he even thought about missing Christmas Eve at her house.

“Will you be there?” Justin had asked Brian.

Brian had been quiet for a few beats, and Justin could hear him breathing before the older man finally spoke. “Yeah.”

“Good. It’ll be good to see you.”

“Yeah.” Brian’s voice sounded distant. Distracted.

Looking back now through the lens of the conversation he’d overheard at the diner, Justin remembered thinking Brian had sounded nervous for the rest of their call, and seemed like he suddenly really wanted to get off the phone. He guessed that Brian’s new boyfriend would be at Debbie’s house as well, although he thought it was strange that Brian would be nervous about that. Maybe Brian was just afraid things would be weird between them. Maybe they would be.

Justin slipped between the sheets of the bed in the guest room in Jennifer’s condo and sighed as he let his head settle back onto the pillow. He would have answers to his questions soon enough -- he just had to wait until tomorrow.

*****

All the next day, Justin couldn’t shake the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter -- he and Brian weren’t together anymore, and they were both free to see whoever they wanted. But he couldn’t deny that it hurt a little to think that the man he’d almost married had moved on so easily and so quickly.

He shook his head quickly, as if to clear away the unpleasant thoughts, as he sat in the floor of his mother’s living room, wrapping gifts.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked as she passed him the roll of tape.

Justin knew he couldn’t possibly put the jumble of thoughts running through his head into words, so he just shrugged and decided to change the subject, sort-of.

“Have you seen Brian lately?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“No,” Jennifer said lightly. “But I heard he sold the loft, and I was a little surprised he didn’t call me.”

Justin didn’t say anything. He kept wrapping.

“I guess I figured he had his reasons.” Jennifer shrugged as she leaned over to place the box she’d just finished under the Christmas tree.

“Yeah,” Justin said quietly, his voice and his thoughts both equally far away.

*****

Shortly before 4 p.m. on Christmas Eve, Justin was standing on the sidewalk outside of Debbie’s house, light snow falling around him. He had a gift in his hand for Michael -- the name Debbie had drawn on his behalf in their annual gift-exchange drawing. It was a framed collage of drawings inspired by some of Michael’s favorite comics. Justin really hoped he liked it.

But all of the thoughts about Michael’s gift were just a distraction from the elephant in the room -- that eventually he was going to have to go in the house, and face this thing he wasn’t supposed to know about that everyone had apparently been keeping from him.

Justin looked around as he took a deep breath and exhaled, the vapor clearly visible in the cold late-afternoon air. He didn’t see Brian’s Corvette parked on the street. He did see Michael and Ben’s SUV -- the idyllic suburban soccer mom mobile -- and the thought made him laugh out loud to himself. They totally were the Stepford Fags. He also saw Mel and Linds’ station wagon, although his excitement to see Gus and J.R. still didn’t eclipse the trepidation he felt about the Big Secret. As he walked up the steps, Justin figured he’d have to wait a little longer for the secret to be revealed, since it didn’t look like Brian was there yet. That was just like Brian -- to be fashionably late. Maybe he wanted to make some big, dramatic entrance with his new boyfriend. That would be just like him too.

He knocked on the door and took another cycle of breath to steady himself. Why was he so nervous? These people were his family. They loved him. Even when he was with Ethan, when he’d hurt Brian so badly that he thought they’d all hate him, they’d loved him. Well, all but one of them. But that had long since been resolved. Why would now be any different, just because he’d been in New York for almost a year?

Only a few seconds had passed before Michael opened the door and ushered Justin inside, taking his coat and leaning the wrapped gift against the wall next to Debbie’s Christmas tree, which was decorated in exactly the fashion you’d expect Debbie Novotny to decorate: loud and flashy. The others were in the small dining area, seated around the table, enjoying some eggnog and cookies. Brian was there too, seated on the other side of the table, playing with his glass and not looking at Justin.

Justin didn’t have much time to notice or think about that odd detail, because one by one he found himself being embraced by Michael and Ben and Lindsay and Melanie and Ted and Blake and Emmett and Hunter and even Carl. Gus tugged at his hand and Justin bent down to hug him as well. As he stood back up, he’d just started to wonder when Brian was going to come and hug him as well, when he felt a hand on his back and turned to find Brian sitting behind him, in a wheelchair.

For a moment, Justin felt like the world had screeched to a halt, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at or if this was even reality and not some alternate universe or a really, really weird dream.

Brian looked up at him and smiled that familiar crooked grin, his hazel eyes bearing a note of apprehension that belied the man’s trademark self-assuredness. “Hey Sunshine.” He reached his hands out and took Justin’s. “It’s really good to see you.”

There were a lot of words fighting in Justin’s head in that moment, but none of them were making it out. Most of them probably shouldn’t. Things like: What the hell is going on here? That’s seriously all you have to say to me right now? What the fuck is this? Some kind of a sick joke?

Brian released Justin’s hands and rolled back a little, his face almost reminiscent of a little boy who was about to admit to his parents that he’d done something wrong. Justin was glad when Brian spoke again, because Justin still couldn’t find a coherent thought. He could see Ben out of the corner of his eye giving Michael a look that seemed to say I-told-you-so.

“God, this feels like coming out of the closet,” Brian said as he dipped his head down and ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess it kind of is.” He let out a nervous laugh.

Justin finally found some words. “This isn’t funny, Brian. What’s going on?”

Brian gestured toward the couch in Debbie’s living room and started toward it, turning his head to look over his shoulder and say, “Come in here. Let’s talk.”

The younger man felt like he was in a fog as he followed Brian into the living room and watched as he moved slightly past the couch and then turned around. Justin watched him place his right hand on his wheelchair tire and his left hand carefully and strategically on one of the cushions before vaulting his body out of the chair and onto the couch. He picked up his legs with his hands, one by one, and settled them into what looked like a natural position, before nudging the chair back out of the way a little. Brian patted the cushion next to him as he looked at Justin and said, “Sit. Please.”

Justin slowly, numbly did as he was told, glancing toward where the others were restarting their conversation over the cookies and eggnog, which he presumed was an effort to give them some privacy.

Brian took Justin’s hand again, and Justin noticed Brian’s hand was trembling a little. The older man’s breathing was a little uneven and sounded like he was trying to muster up the courage to have this conversation.

Unable to wait any longer, Justin decided to just come out with it. “What the hell is going on? I’ve been talking to you on the phone once a week for months, and somehow this...” Justin paused as he gestured at Brian, then the chair. “...never comes up? What happened to you? When?”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“What and when would be a good place to start.” Justin was trying not to sound as angry as he felt right now.

Brian took another deep breath and looked down at his lap as he started to tell the story. “It happened in June. I wrecked the Corvette. On the way back from West Virginia. Closing on the sale of the house.”

Justin watched Brian as he fidgeted, running his fingers over his thighs.

“I was going too fast. I was going to be late for an important presentation. It was raining. That’s all I remember.” Brian paused for a moment. “Until I woke up in a fucking hospital and I felt like the lower half of my body was gone. I hate hospitals.”

Justin nodded. They both hated hospitals. They’d acquired that hatred together. They both knew why.

“I should have just kept the damn house. I think all of this has cost me more than I made selling it. Anyway, when I hit the tree, I fractured two vertebrae in my spine, and the bone nicked my spinal cord. I can’t feel anything from a couple of inches below my belly button on down. And I’m stuck in that fucking chair, forever.”

Justin was staring at Brian, trying to figure out what to say and again unable to fish any words out of his brain.

“So, that’s the story, Sunshine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Brian sighed. “I’m not sure. I guess I liked feeling normal. I wanted to keep feeling normal for an hour every week, when we talked. Everyone else was constantly checking on me, seeing if I needed anything, trying to help me with shit, smothering me...reminding me that something had changed. I needed to feel normal. Like myself again. When I talked to you, I was still the same person I’d always been.”

“And the week when you didn’t call…”

“Yeah. I was in the hospital. And I don’t even remember our conversation when I did call you, because I was so high on painkillers. I’d just had surgery a few days before that to fuse my spine and it hurt like a motherfucker. But I wanted to hear your voice. And I remember that it felt so good to feel like nothing was wrong, like everything was status quo. So I wanted to keep that going. I know that was selfish.”

Justin didn’t say anything.

“Michael wanted me to tell you. He was so pissed at me when I hung up after that first call and I hadn’t said anything. I wanted to tell you...I knew I should. I owed you that much. But I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

In that moment, Justin wanted so badly to throw one of Brian’s favorite phrases, “Sorry’s bullshit,” back in his face. But he didn’t.

“I made Michael promise not to say anything. I knew I was going to have to come clean eventually, but the longer I went without telling you, the more I wasn’t sure how to do it. How to explain why I waited so long to tell you. Every excuse just sounded like bullshit. So I decided to wait and do it in person.” He shrugged. “And here we are. On fucking Christmas Eve. Me coming out of the damn paraplegic closet. And my excuses still sound like bullshit.”

Brian was looking toward the front window now, facing away from Justin. Justin scooted closer to him and started to wrap his arms around Brian’s shoulder’s. The older man turned his head back toward Justin, jolted from his reverie, as Justin pulled him into a hug. The two of them just sat there, holding each other, for a long minute or two. Breathing together. Justin relished the familiar feeling of warmth and security. Brian’s touch still felt the same as it always had. He was still Brian.

When they released each other, they were no longer alone in the living room. Gus had somehow escaped his moms and was starting to climb into Brian’s chair when Lindsay suddenly appeared from the kitchen.

“Gus! What have I told you about--”

“He’s fine.” Brian cut her off. “I let him play with it at my place.”

“I just don’t want him to break something.”

“My chair, himself, or one of Debbie’s tchotchkes?”

“Any of the above,” Lindsay laughed.

Brian leaned over and started tickling Gus, who laughed and started squirming as Brian pulled him into his lap. In his flailing, Gus kicked Brian in the shin, hard, with his heel. Brian didn’t notice. Justin couldn’t help but notice.

“Alright, Sonny Boy,” Brian said, releasing the boy who was looking more and more like a miniature version of him with each passing year. “Let’s go back in the kitchen and see we’re any closer to lasagna...sound good?” Gus nodded as he slid off Brian’s lap. “I’ll meet you there.”

As Gus trotted off, Lindsay trailing behind, Brian took Justin’s hand in his and squeezed it. “Are we okay?”

Justin paused for a moment and swallowed before answering.

“Yeah. We’re okay. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Brian’s familiar somewhat-acerbic tone came through loud and clear in those words, as if he’d spoken them that way many, many times in recent months. He pulled his chair closer with one hand, then gripped the right wheel and launched his body back into it. Justin watched him pick his legs up again and nestle his shoes onto the footplate.

“Is it weird?” The words were out of Justin’s mouth before he could stop them.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Justin thought better of what he’d just asked. His head was full of questions now, and none of them felt appropriate. He turned and took one step in the direction of the kitchen before Brian reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“No, what?”

Justin could feel the warmth of redness creeping into his cheeks. “Um...picking your legs up like that.”

“It used to be.” Brian shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t really think about it now.”

The younger man nodded as his former partner let go of his arm and started to propel himself toward where the rest of their family was gathered. Justin lingered in the living room for another moment, just watching. Trying to reconcile this new version of Brian with the one that lived in his head.

Debbie had just pulled the lasagna out of the oven when Brian came up beside her and stole a piece of garlic bread from the basket on the counter. She swatted his hand playfully. “No spoiling your dinner!”

He blinked up at her, giving her the puppy dog eyes, as he stuck it in his mouth and bit off the end.

“Don’t you try that poor-pitiful-Brian bullshit on me, kiddo,” she laughed as she laid two potholders out on the table to go under the casserole dish. “We both know it isn’t true.”

Brian smirked at her and held the rest of the piece of bread between his teeth as he moved to take back his spot at the table. Justin sat in the chair next to him and stole what was left of Brian’s eggnog, hoping that it was spiked with whiskey, and it was. Good. He needed a drink.

As Deb brought over the lasagna, the bread, and the salad dish, Justin felt Brian reach over and grab his hand, weaving their fingers together under the table. As the family squeezed in around the table to share their traditional Christmas Eve meal, everything exactly as Justin remembered it had been for the six years since he’d been welcomed into this little family that had chosen each other, Justin was lost in his thoughts. So much was different now, but at the same time it felt so much the same.

*****

When the festivities were over and everyone started to go their separate ways, Justin and Brian again found themselves alone in Debbie’s living room. This time, Justin was sitting in Carl’s recliner and Brian was over by the front window, watching it snow.

“Too bad it’s not sticking,” he said. “We could have a white Christmas. Although I have to be honest, snow is a bitch in this thing.” He laughed. “So maybe not.”

Justin felt weird about laughing at Brian’s slightly morbid joke, so he didn’t. In fact, he was still feeling pretty dazed by the events of earlier that evening, finding out that the Big Secret wasn’t Brian’s new lover at all, but instead Brian’s new life.

“Come on, Sunshine,” Brian said as he turned to face Justin. “Cheer up. I told you, I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine. It’s just…” he let his voice trail off while he tried to make sense of the million different trains of thought that seemed to be crossing paths in his brain right now. “I can’t wrap my head around it.”

Brian snorted. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

“Sorry, I’m not… I wasn’t trying to… I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Then don’t say anything.” Brian came closer and leaned in, touching his lips to Justin’s, at first softly, then harder.

Justin’s entire nervous system felt like it was lighting up like the Christmas tree in the corner of the room as he and Brian connected in a way they hadn’t since the night before he’d left for New York. He felt almost breathless as Brian pulled away and looked into Justin’s eyes, as if he was studying him.

“Do you want to come back to my place?”

Justin wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He wanted to, but at the same time he didn’t know what that meant, or even where the two of them stood in their relationship at the moment.

“It’s...okay if you don’t. I get it.” Brian shrugged as he rolled back a bit, putting some distance between Justin and himself. “I’m...different now.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… God, I feel so inarticulate tonight.”

Brian laughed. “It’s okay, Sunshine. I pretty much dropped a bomb on you earlier. You’re allowed to be a little shell-shocked.”

Justin nodded. That was exactly how he felt right now. Shell-shocked. Like he wasn’t sure how to begin to process all of this.

“So, did you drive here?” Brian asked him, changing the subject.

“No, my mom dropped me off.”

“At least let me give you a ride back to her place, then,” Brian said as he went to grab their coats off the hooks by the front door and tossed Justin his.

“Oh, you still--”

“Drive?” Brian chuckled. “Yes. I bought a new car. It has hand controls.”

Justin suddenly remembered the steps up to the porch of Debbie’s house. “Where are you parked?”

“Out back in the alley. There’s only one step out there, so it was easier to put a ramp out there than out front. More out of the way.” Brian shrugged as he stuck one arm and then the other into his black leather jacket and leaned forward in his chair to pull the back of the jacket down to where it should be. “You know Deb. She wasn’t going to let me have an excuse not to come to family dinners.” He smiled and pulled a set of car keys out of his jacket pocket, setting them on his lap.

“So, can I give you a ride?”

“Sure.”

The two of them said their goodbyes to Debbie and Carl, both of them ending up with a faint, red lipstick imprint on their cheeks before they headed out the back door. Justin opened the gate to the privacy fence that enclosed the tiny backyard and saw a sleek, black Mustang parked nearby.

“I see you still had to go with the sportscar,” Justin smiled as Brian unlocked the doors with the remote and the car’s lights flashed. He resisted the urge to ask Brian if he needed help, and felt stupid for even having the impulse at all -- obviously Brian had gotten himself here just fine. He felt like he was gawking as he watched Brian move his body from the wheelchair to the driver’s seat of the car, remove the wheels from the chair one by one and toss them into the backseat before folding the back of the chair down toward the seat and wedging the whole thing into the back of the car as well, struggling with it a bit.

“I normally put the frame in the passenger seat,” Brian said, as if he was reading Justin’s mind. “But if someone’s with me, I have to put it back there.”

Justin nodded as he climbed into the car and put his seat belt on. Brian started the car, pushed the knob to the left of the steering wheel toward the dash to apply the brake, then put the car into drive before pulling the knob back toward himself to accelerate. Justin still felt like he was ogling Brian, so he was thankful when the older man reached up with his right hand to switch the radio on and provide a little distraction.

They talked some more as Brian navigated the streets between Debbie’s house near Liberty Avenue and Jennifer’s condo in the suburbs, but they kept the conversation fairly light this time. Lots of small talk about Molly and Gus and J.R. and Mel and Linds and Daphne and art shows and Kinnetik. Much less heavy than the conversation they’d had earlier. For that, Justin was grateful.

“This feels like deja vu,” Brian said as he pulled the Mustang up to the curb in front of Jennifer’s townhouse. “Me dropping you off here. I feel like your mom should be coming out to scold you any minute now for running off with me,” he laughed.

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” Justin grinned as he took off the seatbelt and put his hand on the door handle. “Besides, she likes you now.”

Brian’s gaze looked like he was far away, lost inside his head for a moment, before he said, “Yeah. I guess so.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Brian said, shaking his head a little as if bringing himself back to the present. “Well, goodnight.” He leaned across the console and gave Justin a tender kiss, cupping Justin’s cheek with his left hand.

As they broke off their kiss and Justin climbed out of the car, feeling Brian’s eyes on his back as he walked up the driveway toward the front steps of his mother’s home, Justin idly wished he’d said yes to Brian’s original question earlier -- if he wanted to go back to Brian’s place.

And an hour later, as he settled into the bed in Jennifer’s guest room for the night, he realized that he wanted nothing more.

*****

All through the Christmas morning hoopla of gifts and cinnamon rolls and a mini-marathon of holiday movies on the TV, Justin again found that he couldn’t keep his mind off Brian. So he was very thankful when, a little before 2 p.m., his cell phone rang and Brian’s name popped up on the caller ID. Justin excused himself and walked upstairs as he answered.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Just leaving the Munchers’ brunch. Making my cameo appearance as dad.”

“And you survived, it seems.”

“Barely.”

“So what’s next on the agenda?”

“I thought I’d see if you wanted to come over. Just to hang out,” Brian added quickly, as if he felt the need to clarify his intentions. “I shouldn’t have asked you last night if you wanted to come back to my place. I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured.”

If only Brian knew just how much Justin wished he had gone back to Brian’s place to spend the night.

“You still there?” Brian asked.

“Yeah,” Justin said quickly.

“So...do you...want to come over?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, I don’t want to take you away from your family...”

“You wouldn’t be. Molly’s heading to dad’s soon, and I think mom is going out with Tucker later.”

“Perfect. So, should I pick you up?”

Twenty minutes later, Justin was back in Brian’s Mustang, headed toward an apartment that actually wasn’t too far from his mom’s townhouse.

“Brian Kinney living in the ‘burbs,” Justin teased. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t believe what a bitch it is to find a wheelchair accessible apartment. I didn’t have time to find a house and renovate when they booted my ass out of rehab. This place was half decent, even if the commute to work sucks,” Brian said as he pulled the car into a parking space near the building. He then swung open the door and started assembling his wheelchair. Justin was impressed with how quickly Brian had everything together and himself in the chair, heading up the sidewalk toward an alcove that held four red apartment doors. They went into the first one on the left -- 2A -- and Brian tossed his keys onto the low-set bar between the kitchen and the living room as they entered.

“There’s some water in the fridge,” he said. “Pardon me for not being a good host and getting it for you, but I have to piss, so help yourself.” That was Brian Kinney for you. Brutally honest to a fault.

The kitchen in the apartment was different, with several of the lower cabinets missing to allow closer access to the countertop from a wheelchair. Everything seemed to be at a slightly lower level as well. Justin opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, opening it as he walked into the living room and took a seat on Brian’s fancy Italian sofa, which, like the rest of Brian’s furniture, looked seriously out of place in this suburban apartment. A few minutes later, Brian emerged from the bathroom and retrieved a drink for himself before joining Justin in the living room. He set his water down on the coffee table and quickly transferred from his chair to the sofa before pushing the chair back and out of view.

“Ah,” he said as he leaned back into the throw pillows and exhaled with a sigh. “Much better.”

Justin still didn’t know what to say or what to do. It was strange to feel so out of his element with a man whom he’d known so intimately for so many years. Brian seemed to sense his discomfort and held his left arm out, inviting Justin to come closer.

“I don’t bite, I promise,” the older man said.

Justin scooted closer and nestled himself under Brian’s arm, just as he’d done so many times before. It felt so familiar, so comfortable...so...them. Brian and Justin. He could feel Brian’s left hand lightly tracing circles on his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you,” Brian said softly, breaking the silence as he turned his head to look at Justin. He had a small smile on his face, but it looked a little sad.

“Me too,” Justin breathed, intoxicated by the feeling of their bodies in such close proximity after what felt like a very long year. He laid his head on Brian’s shoulder and closed his eyes, taking it all in.

The pair let the quiet settle in, and for a few minutes the only audible sound in the apartment was the low, almost indiscernible murmur of the neighbor’s television on the other side of the wall.

It was Brian who spoke first, his voice soft.

“Sunshine, listen to me… Are you listening?”

Justin couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from turning up into a slight grin at Brian’s familiar phrase that he almost always used to start off a serious conversation. “I’m listening.”

“I hope you believed me when I said that I really wanted to tell you.”

Justin stayed quiet, but opened his eyes and tilted his gaze upward toward Brian’s face as he listened.

“I just didn’t know how to do it. How the fuck do you tell somebody this? Much less the person who knows you better than anybody else?” Brian paused as he shifted his back slightly and grunted.

Justin wanted to ask if he was hurting him, but he didn’t get a chance to.

“I didn’t have to tell them, you know -- the family. It just sort of...spread. If I had just let Michael tell you, like he wanted to, then it would have spread to you too, and I wouldn’t have had to do it. But I didn’t tell you because I wanted to be selfish. I needed to feel like everything was okay and nothing had changed. Truthfully, I wanted to ignore it, to act like it hadn’t happened...but obviously, I can’t do that. It’s right fucking there in the open, all the time. It’s the first thing people see when they meet me. You weren’t seeing me though, so I could pretend with you. And I did. And I know that wasn’t fair to you.”

“It’s okay,” Justin said softly as he laid his head back down on Brian’s shoulder. “I get it. After I was bashed, I would have given anything to have people stop recognizing me on the street, wanting to ask me if I was okay, what happened to the guy who did it...you sort of feel like it takes over who you are. Like the rest of you doesn’t matter, you’re just this one thing and that’s it.”

Brian nodded as his eyes turned the same dark, brooding color they always did when Justin talked about the bashing. “So, I’m sorry that I did that to you. I’m sorry that I blindsided you with this. When you walked through that door yesterday, it really hit me what I had set myself up for...and I felt so sick for having lied to you for so long.”

“You didn’t lie. You just didn’t tell me.”

“A lie of omission. Same thing.”

“You know, I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you apologize in the six years I’ve known you.” Justin smirked as he lifted his head up and looked at Brian’s face, which quickly broke into a smile as the older man gave him a playful shove.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it, you twat,” Brian laughed.

“Glad to see nothing between us has changed.”

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say, Justin thought as he watched the playful expression fade from Brian’s face. The few seconds that passed before Brian spoke again felt like an eternity.

“A lot has changed.” Brian pressed his hands down onto the sofa cushion and used his arms to lift himself up and shift his weight a bit before settling back down. “That’s one of them. I have to remember to lift myself up and shift around every so often so I don’t get fucking pressure sores on my ass. So that’s fun. And then there’s the muscle spasms. And the neuropathic pain in places that are numb the rest of the time, when they don’t feel like they’re on fire. And the damn rods in my spine that I can feel just-so-slightly every time I bend down to pick something up off the floor. And the fact that going to the bathroom is always a goddamn emergency, but I’m counting my blessings there because at least I have that much control and I know that not everyone in my situation does.”

Justin sat quietly and listened. It seemed like Brian just needed to get all of this out in the open.

“And then there’s sex. Or lack thereof. Brian Fucking Kinney who can’t get it up without a goddamn blue pill. And once I do, what’s the point, because I can’t feel anything down there anyway. Not that anyone’s beating down my door to fuck anymore. My occupational therapist told me I just needed to focus on my erogenous zones above the waist...and that sex for the new me would probably be more about enjoying the act of pleasing my partner...relishing the intimacy. Yeah, you think I gave a shit about the people I tricked with? There’s fucking nothing in it for me anymore. This is what’s become of Brian Kinney, stud of Liberty Avenue. Isn’t that just poetic justice, Sunshine?”

“What? Are you trying to say this is some kind of a punishment?”

“Well, that’s what my fucking mother said. She marched her bigoted ass right into my hospital room and gave me some sanctimonious speech, said that she hoped I’d finally seen the error of my ways and was ready to change because, see, the Lord had taken away my ability to perform the abominable act of sodomy. She actually fucking said that. I’m pretty sure Michael wanted to slug her, but Zen Ben stopped him. I wish Michael would have. I wanted to, but I was stuck in that damn bed.”

“If I had been there, I would have done it for you.”

“Thanks.”

“I hope you at least told her off.”

“I didn’t get a chance to. She said her piece, and left. I haven’t seen her since. If she’s waiting for me to come around, it’ll be a cold day in hell…” Brian let his voice trail off. “Anyway, enough about Saint Joan. Do you want to grab some dinner? Or I can order something if you’d rather stay in.”

“I doubt anywhere is open.”

“Oh, that’s right. It’s Christmas. I forgot.”

“Do you have anything in your fridge besides beer and poppers?” Justin grinned at the memory of how empty the loft fridge usually was, save for the times when his mother would fill it up with fruits and vegetables. “I could make something.”

“Believe it or not, I do have some food in there. Now that I’m not spending all night every night clubbing and fucking, I thought maybe I’d take up cooking. I suck at it.”

Justin laughed as he got up and went into the kitchen to examine the contents of the refrigerator to see what he could make. A minute later, Brian was beside him, pulling cutting boards and pans out of cabinets. They spent the next thirty minutes preparing a meal together -- laughing and joking and teasing each other, like no time had passed and nothing had changed.

As they sat at the table and enjoyed the simple stir fry they’d made, Justin reached his arm across the table and laid his hand over Brian’s.

“You know, I missed this. I miss us.”

“Me too.”

*****

Two nights later, Justin was sitting in Brian’s living room again, trying to convince him to go to Babylon during actual business hours.

He still owned the club, but never actually went there anymore unless it was during the day, with the fluorescent overhead lights on that made the room look like it wasn’t even the same place that it was after 8 p.m. every night, when the thumpa thumpa started and the laser light show began. Brian only went there now to order alcohol and sign paychecks once a week in the middle of the afternoon.

“I don’t dance anymore.”

“Well, why the hell not?”

“Do I really have to answer that for you?”

“Yep, you’re gonna have to, because I’m not seeing the problem.”

Brian moved his hands downward, dramatically gesturing toward his wheelchair. “Do you see it now?”

“Are you under the impression that you were ever performing a Bob Fosse musical on the dance floor at Babylon?” Justin smirked at Brian. “Or anything remotely close to it?”

Brian gave Justin an irritated look.

“Well? You can still move to the beat.”

“I’m gonna get fucking stepped on.”

“Then you can run over their toes.”

Brian sighed. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

An hour later, Justin could see the clear surprise on the face of the head of security as he greeted them. “Evening, Mr. Kinney, Mr. Taylor.” Just like old times.

“Okay, I’m definitely going to need a drink first,” Brian said as he headed in the direction of the bar. After they’d each downed a shot of whiskey, Justin took Brian’s hand and started to lead him in the direction of the dance floor.

“Not wasting any time, are you?” Brian said loudly over the techno music thumping through the club’s sound system as he pushed his chair through the crowd on the dance floor.

Justin stopped and leaned down, putting his mouth close to Brian’s ear. “I want to make sure we have plenty of time for...other things…” Justin said as he raised an eyebrow suggestively and tried to ignore the fact that Brian was suddenly looking even more uncomfortable than he already had been.

“Justin…”

“Shut up and dance,” Justin said, raising his arms above his head and moving to the beat. Brian just sat and stared at him. Lowering his arms to rest on Brian’s shoulders, the younger man tried to draw his partner into moving as well. “Come on. You can do this.”

“I feel like an idiot. Everyone is staring at me.”

“No they’re not. And if they are, so what, it’s because you’re hot. And you’re mine.” Justin leaned down and nipped at Brian’s earlobe. Justin could tell by the way Brian tilted his head and closed his eyes that he’d struck a nerve, in a positive, life-affirming way.

“You keep doing shit like that and we’re going to have to go straight to the VIP lounge.”

“Oh really, Mr. Kinney? Maybe we’ll have to do just that…” This was going even better than Justin had anticipated. He started off in the direction of the lounge and motioned for Brian to follow him. He did, but by the time they got there, the playful Brian Kinney that had suggested coming back here was gone and had been replaced by one who looked like he’d seen a ghost. Justin continued flirting, undeterred, hoping he could get Brian to come along for the ride.

“Did you bring your little blue pills, sir?” Justin asked as he bent down next to Brian, gently biting at his earlobe again before tracing a path with his tongue down the side of Brian’s neck.

“I’m not doing this here.”

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who suggested coming back here…” Justin teased him as he snaked a finger down the front of Brian’s shirt and started to undo one of the buttons.

“Moment of temporary insanity. Forget it.” Brian physically removed Justin’s hand from his shirt, then turned and left the room.

Justin followed Brian as he wound his way through the crush of bodies on the dance floor and out the door to the club, ignoring the security guard as he told him to, “Have a good night, Mr. Kinney.” They headed down the alley toward the car, Brian moving along at a fairly good clip now and Justin needing to break out into a run to keep up.

“Brian, wait!”

Brian stopped pushing and coasted for a couple of seconds, almost as if he was thinking of stopping. But he didn’t.

The time it took Brian to do everything he needed to do in order to get back in the car gave Justin time to catch up. When he got there, Brian had his forehead leaning against the steering wheel, his chest heaving as he breathed. Justin was really wishing he hadn’t pushed the issue now.

“I’m sorry…”

Brian raised his head and gave Justin a look that he didn’t know exactly how to read, but it appeared to reside somewhere between anxiety and embarrassment. He was pretty sure he saw anger in there too, mixed with a little hurt.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“I need to go home,” Brian said as he started the car, pushed the brake, and put it in gear. They rode in silence the entire way back to the apartment.

Justin had been half expecting Brian to unceremoniously drop him off at his mother’s place as a way to end the evening in the most passive-aggressive way possible. But he didn’t. So Justin chose to take that as a good sign. At least Brian still wanted to be in his presence.

The first place Brian went when they entered the apartment was the fridge, where he grabbed two beers and held one out to Justin. A peace offering? Maybe. He took it and leaned against the bar.

“I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

The older man shrugged and took a swig of his beer, still sitting in the middle of the kitchen. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I embarrassed you. I made an assumption and I was wrong.”

“I hope that you’re not assuming that I don’t want you, because I do.” Brian said as he looked up at Justin, his eyes shining in the dim light. “I just need you to understand what this is like for me now. That it’s not like it was before.” It looked like it physically pained Brian to admit that out loud.

“I know it’s not. Not completely. Sure, there are things that have changed. But there are plenty of things that are like they were before…” Justin walked around the bar and into the kitchen, leaning down to wrap his arms around the older man’s shoulders and give him a kiss. “Like how much I love you.”

Brian leaned into Justin’s touch.

“What if we go to bed?” Justin asked as he continued to plant small kisses along Brian’s jawline. The older man tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and moaned softly as he nodded. Slowly, they worked their way toward the bedroom and into Brian’s bed.

*****

Justin awoke first in the morning, rolling over to find Brian lying on his stomach, with the covers bunched up across his hips, leaving his back exposed, where Justin could see a long scar marking where a surgeon had put his lover’s spine back together. Lightly, Justin reached out to touch it, just brushing it with his fingers. To Brian, this was likely a sign of imperfection, something to be hated. Reviled. Yet another physical reminder of everything that had changed. But to Justin, it was a sign of survival -- that his partner had lived through something truly horrific. And while it had changed his life forever, his life wasn’t over. Brian was still Brian. Changed, sure. But there was still touch. There was still intimacy. There was still connection. There was still something to live for. And Justin was so glad to be a part of it again.