Going or Staying

Chapter 5

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Brian spent the next two days brooding in the empty loft. While he hadn't let on to Daphne, her words had struck a chord with him. He knew he'd hurt Justin by sending him away, by effectively dissolving their partnership, but he still believed he'd had the artist's best interests at heart.

Now, he wondered if maybe he should have given Justin more choice in the matter. After all, he was no longer the naïve teen he'd first met under that street lamp. He wasn't even the same disillusioned young man who'd left him for the fucking fiddler not so long ago. Justin had matured a hell of a lot since they'd first met; Hell, they both had. Maybe it was time he acknowledged that fact.

Picking up the phone, he dialed Justin's cell number, frowning as he got a message saying the phone was no longer in service. With only a moment's hesitation, he cut the connection and dialed the apartment his lover shared with Daphne.

"Hello," the young woman's voice answered.

"Hi, Daphne," Brian said calmly. "Is Justin there?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Daphne's voice answered, decidedly cooler now that she knew who it was. "No," she replied. "He's gone, Brian."

"Gone?" the brunette repeated.

She sighed into the receiver. "He caught a flight to L.A. this morning."

"I see," Brian murmured, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. "I thought he had nearly a month before he started out there."

"He does," she confirmed. "But he really didn't have anything to stay here for, did he?"

The words cut, just like she'd intended. "Apparently not," he sneered sarcastically. "Sorry I bothered you."

After hanging up the phone, he slumped back on the sofa. The little fucker had left without even telling him! Who the fuck did he think he was?

He scowled as a little voice seemed to answer. … he *thought* he was your partner… until you told him otherwise…

Getting to his feet, he began to pace in front of the window, but no matter how irritated he got, no matter how abruptly he turned, he couldn't outrun the nagging voice. … you threw him out … again … you sent him away… told him to go to L.A. and forget about you … told him not to look back … that there'd be no one there for him if he did…

He was angry that he couldn't escape the silent words, angrier still that he was forced to recognize the truth in them. Unwilling to give in to that admission, he grabbed his jacket and left the loft in search of something or someone to take his mind off of the blond man winging his way across the country.

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Justin shifted in his seat on the plane, his mind running the full gamut of emotions. He was excited about the opportunity he'd been given and eager to prove himself in his new job. At the same time, he had to admit to being slightly apprehensive about what the next six months would hold. He was leaving everything he knew behind to start a new phase in his life, one that he knew very little about. While he'd visited L.A. only a short time ago, Pittsburgh was still his home. Would he be able to adapt to the different lifestyle or would he feel like a fish out of water the whole time he was there?

And then there was Brian.

He'd loved the man for what seemed like forever and now he was facing life without him, a prospect he hadn't allowed himself to consider since they'd reunited all those months ago. He closed his eyes against the pain in his heart. He'd hoped that Brian would be happy for him, would support him in his decision. Instead, he'd brushed off their relationship with a tacky 'it's been fun'. Anger warred with the pain as he remembered how easily he'd been dismissed - from the conversation, from the loft … from Brian's life.

"Can I get you something to drink, sir?"

Blue eyes opened to look up into the face of the handsome flight attendant. Though he had no doubt the man was gay, he didn't feel so much as a twitch. "Vodka," he said simply, closing his eyes once again. When the drink arrived a few minutes later, he downed it quickly, wincing at the burn in his throat.

With any luck, he'd be able to drown the pain before he arrived in Los Angeles.

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Brian wasn't really surprised to find himself entering the comic shop. It was too early for Babylon and he had no desire to be seen in his usual haunts with the fucking contraption that was still strapped to his arm anyway.

"Brian!" Michael exclaimed upon seeing his best friend. "How's the shoulder?"

"Unfortunately, it's still there," Brian muttered miserably. "Still hurts like a motherfucker if I even think about moving the wrong way."

Well acquainted with Brian's penchant for the dramatic, the dark haired man rolled his eyes fondly. "I doubt it's as bad as all that," he teased. "Liberty Avenue will be heralding your studly comeback tour before you know it."

Brian raised one eyebrow. "A comeback would imply that I stopped touring in the first place," he quipped.

"Right," Michael chuckled. "What was I thinking?"

"You tell me, Mikey," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Maybe about that bouncing bundle of joy a certain dyke we know recently dropped?"

"I've got pictures," Michael beamed. "Wanna see?"

Brian had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Michael had been there the night Gus was born; how could he not at least appear to be just as happy for his friend. "Sure," he shrugged.

Michael instantly produced a plethora of pictures, all of which looked pretty much the same to Brian. Christ, the kid was only a few days old, how did he have so fucking many pictures already?

"So, now you're a doting dad," Brian remarked sarcastically. "Just like me. Who would have thought."

Michael didn't bother pointing out the differences. He hadn't been forced to sign over his rights as his friend had but he knew it was a sore spot with Brian and not one he wanted to poke at.

"So, what brings you here in the middle of the day?" Michael asked, putting the pictures away until the next unsuspecting soul entered the shop. "I know it wasn't a sudden desire to see baby pictures."

That's for fucking sure, Brian thought. "Justin got offered a job on the movie," he stated directly.

Michael's smile faltered slightly. "Yeah, I heard," he admitted. "Is he going to take it?"

Brian snorted at that. "Seeing as how he left this morning for sunny fucking California, I'd guess yes."

"He left?" Michael repeated, eyes wide. "Already? Brett said he wouldn't be starting for a few weeks if he took it."

Brian didn't respond, finding the surface of the counter suddenly interesting as he ran his hand slowly back and forth over it.

"Ok, what happened?" Michael asked, noting the way Brian was avoiding his gaze.

He didn't answer for a moment and when he did, his voice was quiet. "I told him… I told him to take the job and not look back."

"Not look back?" Michael parroted with a frown. "What does that mean, Brian?"

Brian sighed. "It means it's over, Mikey. What the fuck does it sound like it means?"

"But…" He really didn't know what to say. He knew how miserable Brian had been when he thought he'd lost Justin the year before. He also knew that the blond hadn't been any happier. Since getting back together they'd weathered more than their share of storms with Brian losing his job, Justin getting kicked out of school, the Pink Posse, the cancer. And now that things were going well with Brian's new company and Justin's burgeoning future, it was over? Just like that?

"I don't get it," he admitted. "Why now? After all you guys have been through?"

"It's time he moved on," Brian shrugged. "We all knew he would someday. He's too good for this burg. Even you must realize that, Mikey."

Michael nodded. "The kid's got talent," he admitted. "But lots of talented people still manage to have relationships and a career."

"Yeah, well, those numbers drop considerably when one's in Los Angeles and one's in Pittsburgh," Brian sneered. He took a deep breath and tried to rein in his irritation at his friend's naïveté. "It just wouldn't work, OK? I'm not some dickless fag who's gonna sit around waiting for his lo…for anyone. You know me better than that."

"Yeah, I do," Michael replied, starting to get angry. "Or at least I thought I did. Aren't you the same Brian Kinney who was miserable when he was gone? Aren't you the same Brian Kinney who pushed him away when you were sick rather than risk him leaving…" His eyes widened again as realization struck. "Shit. That's it! You were afraid he wouldn't come back, so you made him think you didn't care if he did."

"I wasn't afraid and I don't care," Brian retorted, eyes flashing. "In fact, it's better for him if he doesn't. He could have a real career out there. Why would he want to come back to a pisswater town like this?"

"Because you're here?" Michael replied without hesitation. "And he loves you?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Choices like that won't keep him in art supplies let alone Armani and Prada," he muttered cynically.

"Maybe Armani and Prada aren't as important to some as they are to others," Michael shot back.

Brian shrugged, feigning indifference, but Michael wasn't through. "So your solution is to kick him out again? How many times do you think you can do that and still have him come back?"

Brian considered the words with a frown. He'd asked himself that same question after he'd all but thrown Justin out of the loft for the second time in the span of a few months. "Maybe I don't want him to come back," he replied harshly. Even as he said the words, he wondered how true they were. No matter what, Justin always ended up coming back. Is that what he'd been expecting to happen this time?

"Are you trying to break him, Brian?" Michael asked quietly. "Are you still punishing him for what happened with Ethan?"

Brian's eyes flew up to meet those of his friend, the hazel depths burning with anger. "Fuck you, Michael," he grated. "This has nothing to do with that."

Michael shook his head slowly, but didn't say anything.

"What?" Brian demanded, irritated by the unfamiliar look of disappointment in the other man's eyes.

"I was always afraid that he was going to hurt you," Michael said quietly. "And when he did, I swore to myself I'd never forgive him."

Brian looked away, not wanting to think about that time, but more importantly, not wanting to admit that he'd actually been hurt.

"But I did," Michael continued. "It wasn't easy, but over time, I finally realized he really does love you."

Brian snorted in dismissal of the notion.

Michael emitted a wry laugh, shaking his head. "You're so full of shit, Brian."

The taller man shot him a warning glare.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Michael glared right back. "You tell him you don't believe in celebrating birthdays, only achievements. And this is how you prove that? After all the shit he's been through in the last few years, this is one big fucking achievement for him, Brian! And his reward is another one-way ticket out of your life? Well, fuck you!"

Momentarily taken aback by the other man's obvious anger, Brian could only stare at him. When he finally found his voice it was to utter, "Fuck you too, Mikey."

Angry that his friend hadn't taken his side like expected, he quickly left the comic shop.

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Just as he'd promised, Brett Keller had sent a car to meet him at the airport. He'd accepted Brett's offer to stay at his place until he found something else and Justin hoped that it would be soon. He was sure the money he had would hold until he started work and he was anxious to get a small apartment or room of his own. While he liked Brett, and loved the extravagant house, he had no desire to feel like a houseguest for the next six to eight months.

As they rode toward the mansion, Justin couldn't help but wonder if he'd have anything to go home to once that time was up.

"Justin!" Brett greeted him with a hug as he entered the house he'd left less than a week ago. "I was thrilled to hear you were coming out early. It'll give us a chance to firm up some things before the actual work starts."

Justin smiled wanly. "Sorry about the short notice," he offered. "I just thought why wait."

Brett looked like he wasn't totally buying the forced jubilance, but didn't comment. "Well, you've got the same room. You can go put your things away, rest up from your flight and then we'll go for some dinner," he suggested. "Tomorrow night I'm throwing a big party to celebrate your new job."

"That's not necessary," Justine replied, blushing slightly.

"The Hell it isn't," Brett grinned. "This is a big deal, Justin. You know how many guys would kill for this chance?"

"I know," Justin replied quickly. "I didn't mean that it wasn't … I mean, I …"

Brett only laughed. "Don't sweat it. I know what you meant."

This time, Justin's smile was more genuine and one of relief.

"Or maybe you're just all celebrated out," Brett teased. "I'll bet Brian was surprised."

"Yeah," Justin answered, glancing away briefly. "He was surprised all right."

Bingo, thought Brett. The infamous Rage obviously wasn't thrilled about having his JT out of sight for such an extended period. He almost felt sorry for the kid. Having heard how Justin struggled to get his art back, he knew this job was a big deal to him.

"Well he shouldn't have been," Brett assured him, trying to improve the young man's mood. "He knows how talented you are better than anyone. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the world caught on."

Flashing a grateful smile, Justin only nodded, slightly uncomfortable with the praise. "I think I'll go up and have a shower if that's all right," he announced. "It was a long flight."

"My home is your home," Brett replied, waving his arm in a grand gesture. "Take a nap if you want and we'll go for dinner when you come down. There are some people I'd like you to meet."

The news should have excited him, but instead, it invoked a modicum of disappointment. He was tired and miserable. The thought of meeting more Hollywood types wasn't exactly top on the list of things he wanted to do on his first night in L.A.

But lying in bed, crying, wasn't a viable option either. "Sure," he agreed, pasting on a smile. "Sounds like fun."

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