Going or Staying

Chapter 2

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Brian heard the loft door close and exited the bathroom to find Justin gone. He stood there a moment, staring at the empty stool where the blond had sat only moments ago.

"Fuck," he breathed, throwing the hand towel he'd been holding. He ran his free hand through his hair and thought back on the events of the last few moments - Hell, the last few months.

They'd had some difficult times between Justin's association with the Pink Posse and Brian's bout with cancer. Granted, he hadn't handled his own situation as well as his lover had. Justin had realized the folly of his actions and had been strong enough to walk away. Brian, on the other hand, had bodily thrown the blond out of the loft and his life and for what? For daring enough to care about him?

With a frustrated sigh, he made his way down to the kitchen and the ever-present bottle of Beam. He poured a shot and downed it quickly, closing his eyes against the burn in his throat and the emptiness of the loft. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have opened himself up like that, only to let Justin walk out on him once again? He poured another shot and consumed it even faster than the first in an attempt to drown out the little voice inside that was telling him he'd fucked things up good this time.

Or had he?

After all, he was the one making the effort here. He was the one who was finally giving Justin what he'd wanted all this time. He was the one willing to give up his privacy, his freedom, his home to make the blond happy. He was the one doing things he said he'd never do, saying things he said he'd never say.

He was the one who'd had his heartfelt proposal thrown back in his face without even a word.

"Fuck 'im," he muttered, downing another glassful of the amber liquid. Grabbing his jacket and his wallet, he headed for the door without a specific destination in mind. He wasn't going to be standing there like some jilted lover when the ungrateful shit came back.

If he came back.

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Justin let himself into the apartment he shared with Daphne and collapsed on the sofa with an exaggerated sigh. Since he'd left the loft, he'd struggled with feelings of guilt for leaving and feelings of anger toward Brian for putting him in a situation where he'd had to do it. Why couldn't things ever be easy?

"Justin?" Daphne called, walking into the living room with a frown. "I thought you were at Brian's."

"I was," Justin sighed miserably.

"What happened?" she sighed, sitting on the other end of the sofa.

Justin was silent for a moment. "He asked me to move in with him," he finally replied, his voice not much more than a whisper.

"What?" she exclaimed, her face transforming into an expression of joy for her best friend. "That's great!"

"And I walked out," he concluded in a flat voice.

It was her turn to be silent as she tried to wrap her mind around what she'd just heard. "Walked out? You mean to get your stuff, right? After you said yes, right?" Her frown returned as her friend remained silent. "Right?"

He sighed again, the sound a combination of anger and sadness. "I didn't say anything. I grabbed my coat and I walked out."

"Justin," she breathed, "I thought this was what you wanted."

He smiled wryly at the concern in her voice. "I thought so, too," he admitted sadly. "Since the first night we met, I've been waiting for him to ask me that."

She studied him for a moment before pressing. "But?"

He got up and made his way to the fridge, grabbing a beer for each of them before returning to the sofa. He stared at the bottles in his hand, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know," he finally replied. "It just seemed …" He handed her one of the bottles and took a long pull from the other. "It just seemed all wrong."

"How could it be wrong?" she asked incredulously. "You love him, Justin. You've loved him from that first night. Hell, you've lived together more than once before. How can it suddenly be wrong?"

He considered her question and his response. "He said the ride made him think about the things he'd do differently if he survived the cancer."

When it looked like he wouldn't continue, she prodded, "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

He let out a small, mirthless laugh. "Yeah, sure. You know the first thing he'd change?" He glanced at her to be sure she was listening. "The bedroom. He'd get rid of the lights over the bed."

She rolled her eyes. "God, Justin, I'm sure he was only kidding."

"And then he said he wanted to spend more time with Gus," Justin continued.

She nodded, considering the words. "Again, that's a good thing."

He got to his feet again and began to pace slowly in the small room. "And then there's me." He turned to her with an angry smirk. "It's not convenient, you know, me living here. I had to borrow a pair of his fucking socks last week."

She had to stifle the urge to roll her eyes again. God, he could be such a drama queen.

"Come on," she urged. "You don't honestly believe that's the reason, do you? Christ, Justin, you can be so thick sometimes."

"Fuck off, Daphne," he growled angrily. "I know it's not about the fucking socks, OK?"

"Then why all the drama?" she challenged him. "Why did you walk out without even giving him an answer?"

When he didn't respond, she pressed further. "Why the Hell are you here instead of at the loft celebrating your new living arrangements?"

He sat down hard in the spot he's so recently vacated. "You wanna know what he said? How he asked me?" Her expectant expression told him she did. "He wants me to move back in. He wouldn't mind it if we were to live together again." He took another long pull from his bottle. "Not once did he ask what I wanted. It's like I'm nothing more than a fucking inconvenience that he's decided he might finally be able to tolerate."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it that way," she said gently. "He loves you, Justin. You know that."

He shrugged and proceeded to peel the label off his bottle without replying.

She watched him for a moment. They'd been best friends for years and she knew she could read him better than anyone. "Why didn't you give him an answer?" she asked again, letting him know that she knew there was more to it than what he was saying.

He silently got to his feet and moved to stand in front of the window. After staring out at the alley for a moment, he quietly answered. "I don't know if I can do it, Daph. I don't know if I can go back there and wonder when he's going to kick me out again. Last time it was hard enough and I wasn't even really living there then. I don't think…" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat before continuing. "I don't think I can go through that again. I don't think I should have to."

She, too, got to her feet and crossed the room to stand behind him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't," she assured him. "You shouldn't have had to go through it last time, but he was upset, Justin. He was scared and angry and…"

"I know that," he cut her off abruptly. "I know Brian has his demons, I know he has issues with commitment and expressing his feelings. Jesus, you think I don't know all that by now?"

"Then what's the problem?" she asked, starting to get frustrated. "He's never taken this leap before. He's never came out and said he wanted to live with you. I think the fact that he's doing it now means that he has no intention of throwing you out again. That's all behind you. You made it through a difficult, trying time for both of you. What could possibly come up that would be worse than that?"

He turned to face her. "The fact that I accepted a job in L.A.," he answered quietly.

She stared at him for a moment before letting out a short bark of laughter, unable to believe what he was saying. "You what?"

"Brett Keller offered me the job of assistant art director on the movie," he explained bluntly. "Six to eight months in Hollywood." He paused for a moment. "I accepted. I told him I'd be back."

After allowing the shock of his words to sink in, she frowned. "Does Brian know?"

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I haven't had a chance to tell him, yet," he admitted. "And then he springs this shit on me about moving in."

"So tell him already," she said, smacking him lightly on the arm. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"

"He told me he wasn't going on the ride," he informed her. "He told me that so that I'd go to L.A."

"So?" she demanded, wondering what the hell that had to do with anything.

"So, if he did that to get me to go for a meeting, what's he going to do to get me to take this job?" He took a deep breath. "Look what he did to Michael to get him to go with David. Look what he did to get me to go with Ethan. He's going to realize this is a great opportunity for me and he's going to do whatever he has to do to make sure I take it."

"Like?" she prodded rather impatiently.

"Like telling me he changed his mind about me moving in. Like telling me he doesn't want to be my partner. Like…"

"I get it," she cut him off. "But Justin, this is different. This time you want to go. Don't you think it's possible he'll merely support you and still be there when you get back?"

He allowed a wry chuckle at that concept. "Yeah, right. Brian Kinney is going to want to wait eight fucking months for me to come back. He doesn't work that way, Daph. He's going to take my leaving as some sort of rejection and he's going to go out of his way to make it clear to me that he doesn't need me to stay. Shit, I'll be lucky if he doesn't have someone else in our bed before my fucking bags are even packed."

Knowing Brian like she did, she couldn't totally discount this theory. "So," she asked quietly. "What are you going to do?"

He straightened his shoulders and looked out at the vacant alley for a moment before answering. "I'm going to take a page out of the Brian Kinney book of self-preservation," he said cryptically.

"Huh?" she frowned.

Turning to face her, his eyes hard with anger, he clarified, "I'm going to L.A. to work on the movie."

She nodded slowly at his answer. "Is that what you want to do?

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

She was silent for a moment. "And is this the way you want to do it?"

Blond brows drew down in obvious confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Angry," she replied succinctly. "Is this the way you really want to leave things?"

His expression changed slowly as she watched. Finally, with a deep sigh, he turned back toward the window. "I'm not angry," he said quietly. "I tried to be… I wanted to be. All the way over here I worked hard at it, Daph. Harder than I've ever worked at anything."

The sadness in his voice tugged at her heart and she reached to put a hand on his shoulder. "Why, Justin?" she asked, unable to fathom what he was saying. "Why would you want that?"

When he turned to look at her again, his eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "It's easier," he answered, his voice thick with emotion. "It's fucking easier than being scared, OK?" He drew in a long, shaky breath. "If he pushes me away again, I don't know that I'll be able to find my way back this time."

She squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of support. "Maybe he won't push this time," she offered hopefully. "Talk to him, Justin. This is a great opportunity for you and Brian would be the first to admit that. You owe it to both of you to give yourselves another chance to do it right."

He considered her words for a moment before a small smile touched his lips. Though his eyes still held a measure of sadness, there was also a tiny spark of hope shining through. Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he murmured, "Thanks, Daphne."

As he grabbed his jacket off the sofa, she smiled slyly. "So, can I assume you won't be home tonight?"

He flashed her a genuine smile, the first she'd seen since he'd shown up a mere hour ago. "No," He answered. "I'll definitely be home tonight." After a pause for effect, he added, "Which means I won't be here."

With that, he left the apartment, his friend's laughter still ringing in the air.

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