Justin

Based on the song ‘Austin’ performed by Blake Shelton.

* * * Justin's POV * * *

The sun was setting over the water as I meandered along the beach, no real destination in mind. The breeze coming off the water made the evening cool, but not cold. At least, not the cold that I was used to at this time of year. If I was in Pittsburgh, there would be snow on the ground by now.

I laughed at myself, wondering when had I started to miss things like snow at Christmas. Well, it was my own fault. I could have gone home, but had decided to stay here in LA instead. And to be honest, I can't call Pittsburgh home anymore. Not after having lived out here for over a year now. I suppose a part of me will always call the place I grew up 'home' though.

It was getting a little cooler as the sun disappeared below the horizon, so I turned back the way I'd come. Hopefully, no one had noticed my disappearance at the party and I could make a graceful exit without seeming to be impolite. Image is everything out here.

Mom had pitched a fit when I told her I wouldn't be coming home for Christmas for a second year in a row. I know that I should have made more of an effort, but I just can't seem to force myself to go back. I haven't returned since that disastrous fight I'd had with him only a few months after I'd arrived here and that was over a year ago.

Oh, Mom knows that something happened between us, but I managed to avoid discussing the subject anytime it came up and she's finally stopped asking. She doesn't understand why I won't come home though. It's not something that I can explain, but the thought of going back there and running into him… I don't think I could take seeing him, knowing he doesn't want me to be a part of his life anymore. A year isn't long enough to get over pain like that, at least, not for me.

The party was still going strong as I made my way back into the house. I pasted a fake smile on my face as I made my way towards the front door and, hopefully, freedom.

What's the old saying? "All that glitters does not shine."? That's LA in a nutshell; all glitter, little shine. Glitter is what you get when you put a lot of little pieces of sparkling bits together and throw a light on it. No matter how you look at it, some of those bits will catch the light. Some of them are almost blinding at times. But as soon as the light moves on, the bits lose their luster.

This party was full of lots of those sparkling bits, waiting for their moment in the light.

Shine, though, that was something completely different. Shine came from within the object itself. It didn't need the light to be seen. Oh, there were some of those out here too, but they were few and far between. Before I came here, I'd shone with my own light. A light that was kindled with love. Now, I was just another piece of glitter.

I managed to make my way through the crowd and out the door. I found my car without too much trouble and sank into the front seat with a grateful sigh a relief to be away from these people I'd surrounded myself with: strangers, acquaintances, coworkers.

After the long drive to my apartment, I walked in and fell into the bed. I didn't bother to turn the lights on since there was hardly any furniture to run into. This was just a place to sleep and store my clothes; not a home at all. The only acknowledgments here that Christmas was only a week away were a few cards that had come in the mail. Like I said, there's no shine left.

As I lay there, I wondered what he was doing. I tossed and turned, unable to get my mind to stop returning to thoughts of him. Why couldn't I just let it go? He'd made it clear that he wanted nothing more to do with me. That after only a few months apart, he'd found that he was doing quite well without me and that I could just stay in LA for all he cared.

Thoughts of his rejection led to thoughts of longing for what I'd lost. Feeling his long, lean body next to mine. Seeing those soft eyes glaze over with lust at my touch. The way he smelled and tasted. The way he'd hold and soothe me when I woke in the night from some nightmare. The way he'd make fun of my drama queen moments, then turn around and have one himself.

My eyes suddenly flew open in panic as I realized that I couldn't remember what his voice sounded like. My mind raced, trying to dredge up a memory that would bring it back to me, but I couldn't find one. I lay there, heart racing. For some reason, I couldn't let this happen. I had to remember his voice. It suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world to me.

I got up and began pacing around my almost empty apartment. What was I going to do? I was losing him all over again. I knew this would only be the beginning. Today, it would be his voice. Tomorrow, I'd forget what his favorite shampoo smelled like. Then I'd forget what color his eyes were. No, I couldn't let this happen. I just couldn't.

Then it came to me. I could call. I'd gotten a new cell phone number after we broke up, so he wouldn't know who it was. I would just call and listen to his voice. Then I'd remember.

I dialed the number with shaking fingers. I'm not sure what I was nervous about. I wasn't planning on actually talking to him.

I held my breath as the phone rang once… twice… three times. I let out a sigh of relief as the answering machine picked up. No possible confrontation there. I closed my eyes and listened as his voice came through the phone.

"If this is Saturday night, I'm out with the guys."

"If it's Sunday, I'm at Deb's."

"If you're selling something, fuck off."

"If it's anybody else, you know what to do."

"And p.s. if this is Justin, I still love you."

The phone fell with a clatter to the counter top as I stood there shaking. No, he wouldn't have… couldn't have said that. I had to be dreaming. I looked down and realized that the phone was still on. Frantically, I pushed the button to end the call and backed away from the phone. I eyed the softly glowing object warily as I made my way across the room.

I was shaking so badly at this point that it was all I could do to crawl into the bed and pull the blanket around me. Why had he said that? When had he said that? Could it just be an old message that he'd recorded long ago and forgotten? I tried to remember the last time that I'd called and gotten the machine, but couldn't. It had to be a mistake.

For the rest of that night, I lay there running the message over and over in my mind. By morning, I was convinced that it had to have been recorded before we broke up and he just had never gotten around to changing it. That was the only thing that made sense to me.

I went to work the next day with a head full of cotton from lack of sleep. By that evening, I was exhausted and fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. By the second day, I was starting to think straight again and I couldn't get that phone message out of my mind.

If the message had been recorded before we broke up, surely I would have heard it before. And Brian, being as meticulous as he is, would never have left a message like that on his machine. In fact, it floored me that he had that on his machine at all. But if he wanted to get back together, why not just call me himself? Why a message on the answering machine?

By the third day, I was no closer to getting an answer to the questions that kept running through my brain. There was only one thing I could think of to do. I'd have to call back and leave a message. But what was I going to say? What if I told him I still loved him, only to find out the message was old? I don't think I could live with the humiliation. I had to do something though.

I waited until I knew he would be at work, then I dialed the number again, having no idea of what I would say. Three rings again, then the answering machine picked up.

"If it's Tuesday night, I'm seeing my son."

"And Wednesday morning, I'm going out of town."

"I'll be gone all week, so I'll call you when I get back on Friday evening."

"And p.s. if this is Justin, I still love you."

I swallowed hard as tears came to my eyes. It was a new message. He really did mean it. Then I realized he'd already left on his trip and wouldn't be back until Friday. A long beep sounded in the phone and I grasped for something to say. My befuddled brain wasn't working. Nothing at all came to mind. At the last second, I blurted out my phone number and hung up.

It was only later that I realized I hadn't even left my name. Would he remember my voice? Would he know it was me calling? And most importantly, would he call me back?

The next few days were going to be the longest I'd ever had to live through.

* * * Brian's POV * * *

I walked into the loft and tossed my coat onto the arm of the sofa, then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. The light on the phone was blinking, so I pushed the button to listen to my messages. Michael had left a couple of messages reminding me of dinner at Deb's, which I'd already been to. A few messages from salesmen that I deleted as soon as I realized what they were. The last one was just silence, followed by the sound of something falling, like the person had dropped the phone, then the message ended.

Curious, I scrolled through the caller id to see who it was. It wasn't a number that I was familiar with, but I felt my heart skip a beat when I saw the area code. Had he called?

No, it couldn't have been him. If he'd had some reason to call, then he would have left a message. It was probably just one of those computers that dials random numbers until it gets a real person.

With a sigh, I hit the button to record a new message, just like I'd done every few days for the past year. If he ever did call, I wanted him to know where I was. I couldn't risk missing what may be a one time only chance to get back what I'd thrown away.

Of course, as the months went by, I realized that chance was getting slim to none. I couldn't let myself give up hope though.

Over the next few days, I found myself calling the loft several times a day to check my messages, hoping that it had been him and he had called again. By Wednesday morning, I'd pretty much given up hope. I got on the plane for my business trip with a heavy heart. My Sunshine was gone and I only had myself to blame.

* * *

The trip went well, but it seemed to be a hollow victory as I walked into my empty loft Friday afternoon. I tried to ignore the blinking light on the phone, unwilling to play back messages that wouldn't be from him. I changed out of my suit, emptied my luggage then put the bags away. I called Gus to tell him I was home, then called Mikey to see what was going on with him. I knew several of the messages would be his, even though he knew I hadn't been at home.

Finally, I couldn't put it off any longer. I hit the play button on the machine. It was the usual crap and I deleted each as soon as it started. Salesman, Mikey, Mikey, Lindsay, salesman…. then a phone number.

My hand paused above the delete button and I swallowed hard. No name, no message, nothing except a phone number. The same number that had called this past weekend and not left a message. But I didn't need a name to know who it was.

I sat back and stared at the phone. He'd called… after all this time, he'd called. I picked up the phone and dialed the number, hoping my voice didn't fail me as I heard the ring at the other end of the line. One… two… three rings, then his voice was on the other end.

"If you're calling 'bout my heart,"

"It's still yours."

"I should've listened to it a little more."

"Then it wouldn't have taken me so long to know where I belong."

"And by the way, Brian, this is no machine you're talking to."

"Can't you tell, this is Justin, and I still love you."

My throat closed up and I couldn't say anything. "Justin…" was all I could manage. Then I heard someone pounding on the loft door. Of all the inconvenient times to interrupt.

"You should answer your door." The soft voice said. "I'll wait."

I carried the phone to the door, trying to choke back my tears so that I could speak. I pulled back the door and … he was standing there, cell phone in hand, tears in his eyes and a hopeful look on his face.

* * * Justin's POV * * *

I hadn't been able to wait for the phone call. If there was any chance at all that Brian wanted me back, I had to be there when he got home Friday. I'd waited across the street until I saw him walk up, then I waited for what seemed like forever for him to call.

Finally, the phone rang. This time, I knew exactly what I was going to say. As I talked, I walked up the stairs to the loft, stopping outside the door. When I heard him say my name, I felt it. Everything I'd been missing this past year was just on the other side of this door. I banged on the door, then softly told him to go answer it.

We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, both afraid to break the spell. Then finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I threw myself into his arms. Nothing has ever felt so good, so right, as feeling him holding me again.

"Sunshine…" he whispered softly in my ear as he nuzzled my neck.

I pulled back a little and looked into his eyes. He didn't need to say it again; I could see it. He still loved me. I couldn't help but smile just before I caught his mouth with mine.

No more glitter for me. I'm shining again.

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