Going or Staying

Chapter 7

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The sound of someone banging on the door pulled Brian from a restless sleep. Glancing at the bedside clock, he groaned loudly. Who the fuck would be banging on his door at 3 a.m.?

He debated not answering, but knew that wasn't really an option. What if something had happened to Gus? Or Michael? Or Jus…

Trying to push the thoughts from his mind, he rose and grabbed a pair of sweats, awkwardly pulling them on as he made his way to the door.

"All right," he called to whoever was still pounding relentlessly. "I'm coming."

When he pulled the door back a moment later, it was to see a disheveled Daphne on the landing. She wore a coat over her pajamas and her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from tears.

"What the fuck's the matter with you?" he demanded, concerned by her appearance and the late hour of her visit.

Her breath hitched as she tried to get the words out. "Justin," she managed. "He called. Said he never said goodbye. Hobbes and Shanda Lear."

Frowning, Brian took her arm and pulled her into the loft. "Jesus, Daphne, I can't understand a word you're saying," he growled, fear and concern feeding his anger. He pulled her to the counter, sat her on one of the stools and went to the fridge for a bottle of water. After handing it to her and demanding she drink, he waited impatiently for the girl to collect herself.

When it seemed like she'd calmed somewhat, he pressed for an explanation. "Now, tell me, what about Justin?"

"He called," Daphne repeated her earlier words. "I asked him to let me know when he got there. I told him he should have talked to you but he said he couldn't. You guys never say goodbye and this time it really was goodbye and he couldn't so he didn't."

Brian tried to keep up with the rambling. Thankfully, all the time he'd spent with Justin had left him well-versed in the language patterns of her age-group. "What about Hobbes?" he asked, remembering her incoherent babble at the door.

She took a deep breath. "He said he wasn't going to chase you. Said it would be like chasing Chris Hobbes and asking for another bat to the head."

Brian's stomach clenched at the words. Anger and pain warred within him as he heard himself compared to that homophobic prick. "Anything else?" he grated, trying to keep his emotions under control.

She nodded. "Shanda Lear said he'd hugged one of the attacker's boots to prevent another kick." Looking up at him, she wondered at the wisdom of saying any more, then decided he deserved to know. "Said he'd been doing that with you. Holding on so tight so that when the blow came, it wouldn't hurt so much."

She allowed the words to sink in, taking note of the grim expression the man wore. "He said it didn't work for him any more than it did for Shanda."

Brian nodded curtly and turned away, struggling to maintain his mask of indifference. "And why are you telling me all this?" he asked tightly.

She let out an audible gasp of surprise at the question. "Did you hear what I said?" she asked incredulously. "He's giving up, Brian. Is that what you want?"

"That's his choice," Brian muttered.

She grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. "No!" she spat, suddenly angry. "That's your choice!"

He wrenched his arm out of her grasp and shot her a glare before storming back to the fridge for a beer.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she demanded as he opened the bottle and took a long drink. "Don't you care how miserable he is?"

"What do you want me to say?" he asked angrily. "He's out there, I'm here. How the fuck do you expect me to fix this?" He adopted a sarcastic smirk before continuing. "What? You think I should jump on the first plane? Fly down there, pat him on the head and tell him everything is going to be all right? Is that what you want? Well, listen up, sweetheart, that's not going to happen."

"But you're his partner," she urged.

"Was. Was his partner," he clarified. "His life is there now, mine is here." Both his expression and his tone softened slightly when fresh tears started down her cheeks. "He's where he needs to be," he explained as gently as he could. With a small shrug, he conceded, "Who knows, maybe in six months he'll want to come back to the Pitts and we'll see where things stand then."

"That's it?" she cried. "You just cut him out of your life until then?"

A sad smile touched his lips. "Too late for that," he replied quietly. "Even if it's in the past, he's a part of my life."

"I don't understand," she said wearily, shaking her head.

He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the futon, taking a seat by her side. After a moment, he began to speak. "I always dreamed of a big office in New York, did you know that?"

She nodded. "After I got … fired… from VanGard, and I was seriously contemplating starting my own business, the first place I thought of was New York City."

"But you started over here," she pointed out needlessly.

He nodded. "Yeah, I did." After a brief pause, he elaborated. "Gus was a big part of that decision."

She looked down at where her hands fidgeted in her lap.

"Justin was another."

Her eyes flew up to meet his at the words and he smiled wryly. "I know he would have gone to New York with me," he admitted, "but I was still hoping he'd go back to PIFA. I know that was his dream."

She nodded again slowly, taken aback by this side of Brian.

"So," he shrugged, "I decided to start Kinnetik here, because I could."

At her slight frown, he tried to explain. "I can be a fucking success anywhere," he stated matter-of-factly. "But Justin… What he's doing down there, he can't do here. And I can't give up everything I've worked for."

As much as she hated to admit it, she was starting to understand his motivations. Still, it didn't excuse the way he'd treated her best friend. "What about everything Justin's worked for?" she asked defiantly. "He fought so hard to be a part of your life and you just threw it back in his face."

He winced inwardly at the words. "We would have made each other miserable," he pointed out. "We'd make plans to visit and they'd get fucked up because of my job or his. There'd be angry phone calls and hurt feelings and it would just drag on until neither one of us could stand the other." He took a deep breath as if he found his own words depressing. "A clean break is better."

"Better for who?" she demanded. "You? So now you won't have to be home for his call at midnight, you can be at the baths or in the backroom?"

He didn't bother telling her that he spent considerably less time at either of those places these days. "And if he decides he wants to stay after the job's done, he won't have to worry about breaking any promises."

She didn't like it, but he was right to a point. If Justin promised Brian he'd be back, then got an offer of a more permanent job in Hollywood, he'd be torn. Though she believed wholeheartedly that he'd choose Brian, the choice wouldn't be an easy one. And it might end up being one that would come back to bite them both in the ass later on.

"Tell me one thing," she sighed in resignation. "Do you love him? Will you at least miss him a little bit?"

He considered the questions, but didn't answer, simply staring at her with one eyebrow slightly raised.

While she hadn't really expected him to say anything, she hadn't been able to keep herself from asking. After all they'd discussed, nothing was going to change. "This is so fucked," she said wearily as she got to her feet to leave.

He rose as well. "Yeah," he breathed quietly.

She turned to face him, a question in her eyes. Was he finally answering the questions she'd asked, or was he merely agreeing with her assessment of the situation? Seeing that she wasn't going to get any further clarification, she shook her head sadly and headed for the door. "Sorry to barge in, in the middle of the night," she offered sadly. "I just thought you should know how much he's hurting."

I do know, he thought to himself. Believe me, I know.

"You're a good friend," he replied aloud. "He's lucky to have you."

She studied his face for a moment as she stood in the open doorway. "Yeah," she finally agreed with a small nod.

He watched until she'd disappeared in the stairway before closing the door slowly. He leaned against the cool metal for a moment thinking of everything Daphne had said.

Knowing that further sleep was out of the question, he headed for the shower to start his day a couple of hours early.

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Justin awoke to bright California sun streaming in his window and groaned. As much as he enjoyed the warmer climate, the light only served to exacerbate what promised to be a killer hangover. After dinner, Brett had suggested they hit some after hours clubs. Their dinner companions, Richard Schuler, art director for Rage, and Aaron Grishman, one of the writers working on the screenplay, had accompanied them and insisted on buying round after round of drinks to celebrate his new job.

By the time he'd stumbled into bed at close to 4, he couldn't have told you what his new job was if he'd tried.

Of course, morning brought with it a new clarity and he not only remembered the job, but the circumstances under which he'd left his home to take it. He'd have to remember to call Daphne later. He'd no doubt freaked her out the previous night with his maudlin ramblings and while he still felt pretty much the same way as he had when talking to her, he didn't want her to worry.

Thoughts of his best friend turned to thoughts of Brian. He grimaced to himself as he realized Daphne might relay the details of their conversation to his lover - or ex-lover, as the case may be. He tried to picture Brian's reaction and could see him rolling his eyes and commenting on Justin's dramatic tendencies. There was a time when the thought would have made him smile, but at that moment, it just brought a further sadness to his heart. Brian had always teased him about being a drama princess, but if that was accurate, then Brian was truly the queen. Such comments as 'it was either cut my wrists or cut my expenses so I just opted for the tidier of the two' put him in good stead as one of Pittsburgh's biggest drama queens. Of course, you'd never know it to see him, but those who knew him realized what lurked beneath the surface of his 'always cool, always in control' exterior.

Closing his eyes against the daylight, Justin wondered if he'd ever be privy to such moments again. When he went back to Pittsburgh, would they even be able to talk to one another? The job was scheduled to last six to eight months, but he planned on going home for Thanksgiving and Christmas at the very least. But what, exactly, would he be going home to? Sure, he'd visit with his mother and Molly, but what of holiday dinners with his 'adopted' family? Could he sit at Debbie's table with Brian and not die from the sheer pain of being so close to the man and knowing he'd never be more than a past lover? Did he really want to hear tales of what Brian had been up to in his absence and how many tricks he dragged to the backroom on any given Friday night? While he doubted anyone involved would intentionally hurt him with the information, he new it was bound to come out inadvertently at some point. It always did with the Liberty Ave. gang.

As he allowed his thoughts to wander, he wondered if they even knew he'd gone? He knew Brett had told Michael about the job offer but Justin hadn't wanted to tell anyone until he'd told Brian. And even though Michael knew about the job, Justin hadn't bothered telling him he'd be leaving a few weeks early to get situated. He thought it would only raise questions he hadn't felt up to answering.

Get situated. Yeah, right. That might have been what he'd told Brett, but Justin wasn't fooling himself. He'd left early because Brian had made it too painful to stay. He didn't want to run into him at the diner or Woody's and he'd be damned if he was going to be reduced to living like a recluse in Daphne's dorm room while the rest of the world went on without him. By the time he'd finished considering his options, the early move seemed like his only sane bet.

But now that he was in California, away from the detrimental influences of one Brian A. Kinney, he had no idea what he was going to do to fill his time before he started work.

A knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts. "Yeah," he called, his voice still husky with sleep.

Brett popped his head in. "Morning," he grinned. "Or should I say afternoon?"

Justin glanced at his watch and groaned as he realized it was nearly one.

"I'm going in to the studio," Brett continued. "Just thought I'd see if you wanted to come along."

Justin sighed and shook his head. "No thanks. I think I'll just have a hot shower and see if I can't get rid of this fucking headache."

Brett chuckled at that. "Too much California night life, huh?"

"Something like that," Justin murmured.

"Well, I'll be back in two or three hours," his host informed him. "The caterers will be here around five and Geoffrey will let them in. You just take it easy and get yourself in shape for tonight's party."

Justin smiled, though a party was far, far down on the list of things he felt up to. "Thanks," he said. "I'll see you later, then."

With a nod and a wink, Brett withdrew his head and closed the door.

After a few more minutes, Justin managed to pull himself sluggishly from the bed and head for the shower.

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As bad as Brian's day had started, it only got worse. Pat Jeffries had completed the initial drafts for the Fosters account and they were so vastly divergent from what the client wanted that Brian had to wonder where some of his art staff received their diplomas. Of course, Ted had taken his share of the fallout, since he was the one responsible for explaining the job to Jeffries in the first place. However, Brian knew that it really wasn't Theodore's fault; he should have talked to Jeffries himself. In the past month, Brian had allowed Ted to handle similar tasks, but often it was Justin involved. Even with the vaguest outline, the blond had a knack for discerning what was wanted and producing it with seemingly little effort.

But availing themselves of Justin's talents was no longer an option.

And so, he'd spent most of the morning going over the layouts and pointing out in painstaking detail just what needed to be changed. Then, his afternoon had been filled with two new account meetings and a conference call to Leo Brown in Chicago. Seemed Brown Athletics had a new line of ski wear in the works and Brian needed to come up with a marketing proposal within the month.

By the time he entered the loft at close to 7, he was already tired and looking forward to an early night. He was about to pick up the phone to call his favorite Thai place when it rang, his hand hovering over the receiver for a moment before answering.

"Yeah," he said into the handset.

"Brian," Lindsay greeted him cheerfully. "Gus misses his daddy and we wanted to see if you and Justin could come for dinner tomorrow night."

Christ, doesn't anyone gossip anymore? He would have thought news of Justin's departure would have been all over Liberty Ave. by now.

"I don't think so, Linds," he replied wearily. "I've got an account I have to spend every waking minute on for the next few weeks."

"That's too bad," she lamented. "Well, what about Justin? He'd be bored there watching you work anyway."

Brian barked a harsh laugh into the phone. "Your garlic chicken may be good, Linds, but it's not worth flying 3,000 miles for."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, genuinely confused by his remark.

He sighed. "Justin's in L.A.," he answered, massaging his forehead with two fingers. "He got an offer to work on the movie and he left yesterday." He didn't bother telling her he hadn't spoken to the artist for two days prior to that, or about the way they'd - he'd - ended things.

"Oh!" Lindsay exclaimed. "That's wonderful! Why didn't he tell anyone he was leaving? News like that deserves a celebration; we could have thrown him a goodbye party."

Brian grimaced as he was reminded once again how he'd failed to celebrate Justin's achievement. "Yeah, well, I guess he didn't want anyone making a big deal of it," he said lamely. "Look, Linds, I've really got to get started on this account. Kiss Gus for me and I'll talk to you soon."

After hanging up the phone, he went over and collapsed on the futon, all thoughts of food forgotten. He knew he'd deliberately misled her. Justin would have loved a party in recognition of his new job, he was sure of it. But Brian had set the tone by being an asshole and the kid probably hadn't felt very celebratory after that. He'd obviously told Daphne about the job, and quite likely, his mother, but he probably hadn't mentioned it to anyone else. Brian wasn't sure if it was Keller or Justin who'd told Michael. Ted didn't know, and he would have if Emmett knew. Hell, if Debbie knew, most of Pittsburgh would have found out. He wondered how Justin had managed to quit his job at the diner without giving an explanation.

Realizing that brooding about it wasn't going to get his work done, he got to his feet and headed into the bedroom to change before ordering the food.

By the time he'd finished what he'd hoped to accomplish, it was 2 a.m. So much for an early night A clap of thunder caught his attention and he looked toward the window to see that it was raining quite heavily. Idly wondering if they were getting remnants of the hurricane that had battered the southern part of the east coast, he moved toward the small TV Justin had acquired from his mom and turned it on. He listened for news about the weather as he headed to the fridge for a bottle of water. He stopped in mid reach as a familiar name caught his attention and he turned back to the TV.

Police did not say if Keller was one of those injured in the incident as they are still trying to determine the identities of the victims. Lisa Kellog has more. Lisa?

Thanks, Julie. I'm here outside the home of movie director Brett Keller. As you can see, police have blocked off the general area while they try to sort out exactly what happened here this evening…

Brian slowly moved closer to the TV as though afraid to get to close for fear of what he might see.

Eyewitness reports say hundreds were gathered here tonight for a party in honour of an acquaintance of Keller's when violence erupted a little less than an hour ago. So far, two have been confirmed dead and four were taken to hospital with undisclosed injuries. We've received no information as to the identity of the victims at this point, nor has there been any report of what triggered this tragedy. We'll bring you more information as we get it. Back to you, Julie.

Thanks, Lisa. In other news…

The rest of the broadcast fell on deaf ears as Brian stood staring mutely at the screen.

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