STORMY
PART 3 – REVISED
12/18/03
Justin stood on the other side
of the doorway, trying to come up with a plausible reason for his presence
at his former home. He knew Brian
would recover, but that persistent worried side of him wanted a true
visual.
“I just wanted to make
sure you were okay,” Justin finally stammered.
“Well, I’m fine -
run along,” Brian said, almost too harshly.
“Nice try, Brian - we’ve
had this conversation before. How long have you sentenced yourself to solitary
confinement? Cynthia told me you haven’t been to work in two days, and
are working on a third. “
“When the fuck did you
start talking to Cynthia?”
“I’ve been talking
to her for ages. I wanted to talk to you about my tuition, and she told me
you’d called in sick. I called the loft, your cell - all of them were
turned off. What the hell is going on?”
“I just needed a few days
off - is that a crime?”
“No, but this is not you
- you wouldn’t sacrifice work for a hangover; you sacrificed a trip
to Vermont with me because of business! And now you’ve just come home
from the hospital after nearly drinking yourself to death? For the last time,
Brian - what the fuck is going on?”
Brian couldn’t tell him
- couldn’t tell Justin how miserable and empty he knew the loft would
be when Justin moved out. He couldn’t tell him that the day before the
move, he couldn’t bring himself to go in the office, because he’d
already started the mourning process; how he silently wept in the shower
while Justin packed his boxes and bags the next afternoon; and how he just
wanted to dull the pain when his Sunshine was finally gone.
He must have spoken out loud,
because suddenly a huge smile spread across Justin’s face. “You
love me,” he said, beaming. Brian stood there, speechless - what the
hell just happened?
“You’ve just told
me everything I wanted to hear for the past week,” Justin said, leaning
into Brian and hugging him. Brian stood there, stunned - he knew now that
he’d voiced his thoughts. Shit - this twink’s going to own me for
life, he thought.
As much as he wanted to pull
away from Justin’s embrace and try to find his “Asshole” mask,
his body had other plans. Brian looped his arms around Justin, and nuzzled
his neck. “I can’t do it, Justin, I can’t say the words
yet,” he whispered. He hated being so wide open and vulnerable - Justin
was bound to do anything to him. At least Michael would have tucked him in
bed and held him as he cried - he wasn’t sure what Justin would do.
Perhaps that was part of the problem.
“You don’t have to
- you’ve admitted more than I ever dreamed you would. I knew you loved
me - everyone knew you loved me. The only person who needed convincing was
you. Now, let’s go inside.” Brian looked down at Justin, about
to protest, but Justin’s expression brooked no argument. With a sigh,
Brian slipped out of Justin’s embrace, brought him in, and closed the
door.
“What do you want from
me?" Brian asked softly.
“You’ve given it,
Brian - your heart,” Justin said, pulling him over to the sofa. “Now,
we need to talk.”
End of Chapter 3