Justin picked up the phone on the fourth ring just before the machine kicked in. He had been drawing and had not really wanted to stop. At the last minute he decided to get it.

"Justin!" a rather severe voice barked at him after he said hello.

"Dad?" Justin replied, amazed that his father was actually calling him. He realized this was the first time in a long, long time that he had heard from his father.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I mean that your picture is constantly in the paper these days.  What are you doing, trying to ruin my business?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dad? How am I possibly ruining you business?

"You were at that funeral of some homeless, crazy person with that fucking pervert that you live with. Your face was plastered all over the news, standing there holding hands with that asshole like some fucking little housewife."

"Well, I guess I am some fucking little housewife. I support Brian in everything he does," Justin said defiantly.

"How can you be like this, Justin? Have you no sense of decency?"

"Apparently not, at least not by your perverted definition of decency." Justin chose to use the word "perverted" deliberately.

"Don't you use that tone with me, young man!" his father bellowed.

"You got that part right, Dad. I am a man and I don't have to do what you say. Not anymore!"

Craig sputtered on the other end of the line and Justin was tempted to hang up, but he wanted to know why his father had felt compelled to call him now.

"You never said how my standing beside Brian at the funeral is harming your business," Justin said in a level tone. "I've been in lots of newspaper photos with Brian since he got elected."

"Don't I fucking know it!"

"What's this about, Dad?"

"Forget it! You don't care what happens to me. You and the pervert will dance on my grave."

"Your grave? Dad, are you sick? Is something wrong? Tell me."

Justin heard his father sigh. "There's nothing physically wrong with me," Craig said in a more reasonable voice. "I had one of my best customers tell me today that he wanted to switch his business to another company."

"Why?" Justin asked afraid that he already knew the answer.

"Because of you," Craig said with bitterness in his voice. "He saw that fucking photo and he thinks you are helping to destroy the moral fiber of our country."

"Fuck!" Justin responded before he could stop himself. "And of course you agreed with him."

"It's true. You are encouraging perversion by being so blatant about your lifestyle."

"What did I do?" Justin asked with exasperation. "All I do is stand beside Brian. I go to functions with him. I smile and act like this is my life too." Justin felt his anger rising and he tried to keep his voice from shaking. "I never say anything for myself, and most of the time I don't want to. I sit with the wives at public functions and they treat me like some new toy they just discovered. And then they talk about me behind my back, and I have to smile and pretend that I don't know what they're saying. So I'm sorry if I'm causing you some lost business, but I have some fucking stuff to deal with too. Don't come complaining to me. Deal with it!"

Justin slammed the phone down and realized that he was shaking. He knew he had been screaming at his father by the end of that conversation. He could barely believe all that had come pouring out of him. He could barely believe that was how he actually felt. He had suppressed it for so long now that he hardly knew he had those feelings.

But there it was! He was sick of being the little housewife. He was a man and he had a life of his own. He had school. Some people actually thought that he was a good artist and that he might be successful someday. That didn't include Brian though. Brian never acknowledged his work anymore. He never looked at Justin's sketchbooks or asked what was going on at school. He never came to any of Justin's shows at PIFA or even came near the place anymore. Justin hadn't even told him about the show before Christmas. He really didn't want Brian there. He usually got teased about being the "wife" of the mayor if he reminded people that he was Brian's partner. It had been easier to just avoid the whole issue.

That's what he had been doing for months now, avoiding making waves, avoiding facing who he was, avoiding living his life the way he wanted to. He was always walking on eggshells never saying anything for fear of saying the wrong thing. If he spoke he had to choose his words so carefully. He wished he could just be himself, go back to the way things used to be. Yeah, like that was ever going to happen!

Justin rubbed his temple feeling the old scar from the bashing.  Brian thought they had come so far since then, but had they really? He had felt much freer back then. He had loved Brian in such an all consuming way. Now Brian had so many responsibilities. He was always busy, and then something would set him off, like the death of that homeless woman. And it would be Justin's job to pick up the pieces. Getting a door slammed in his face and being told to go home alone had been Brian's response to his efforts to help. He had done as instructed. He had gone and got Michael who had fixed the situation, something he was unable to do. And so their life had gone on, much like nothing had ever happened.

Justin was sick of it all. His head was beginning to throb. He wanted a life for himself, not just the one in Brian's shadow. How could he ever accomplish that? Nobody would help him. Nobody cared how he felt. What could he do? He walked up to the bathroom to get a Tylenol before his headache got really bad. He wondered where all this anger had come from.

Why did his fucking father have to call tonight?

-----

When Brian arrived home a little after ten o'clock, he found the loft in darkness and assumed that Justin had gone out somewhere. Brian had been at a Rotary Club dinner, having been asked to speak about his attempts to help the homeless. He had wanted to refuse, with Angela's death still too fresh in his mind. He wasn't sure he would ever totally recover from that. The Rotary Club had offered to donate two thousand dollars to the fund that was set up in Angela's name, the fund administered by Adam Pritchard, the fund to help the homeless by giving them one hundred dollars to clean up, get a job and maybe reclaim their life. That would mean that twenty people could be helped if Brian made his speech. He agreed.

Brian hung up his coat and took a look at the mail on the counter. Justin had opened the bills and there was nothing of a personal nature. He tossed it back on the counter deciding he would change and maybe shower. Then he would be all fresh and ready to fuck his golden boy when he came home.

As he reached the top of the steps, he became aware of the lump on the bed. "Justin," he said softly. There was no answer.

Brian walked over to the bed and saw Justin sleeping in a fetal position all wrapped tight in the duvet. He frowned. That was the way Justin slept after a nightmare or a migraine. He sat down beside Justin and felt his forehead. It seemed a little hot, but not inordinately so. He wondered what could have happened to send Justin to bed so early. They were often in bed at this time of night but never asleep. So much for the fuckfest he had planned.

Brian got up carefully not wanting to wake Justin. If the boy had had a nightmare or a bad headache, sleep was the best thing for him. He removed his suit and hung it up. He'd take a shower and then see if Justin had stirred while he was doing that. A little grain of worry tapped at the portal of his brain, but he pushed it aside.

A while later Brian dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his hips. He went back into the bedroom to check on Justin. He sat by the boy and felt his head again. It seemed a little feverish. Suddenly Justin pushed his hand away and began mumbling incoherently.

"Justin," Brian said softly.

The mumbling continued. Brian leaned in trying to hear what his partner was saying. He seemed agitated by whatever it was.

"I'm not," he heard Justin say forcefully. "No … no I'm not."

"Not what?" Brian said aloud.

"No, alone, go away."

"Justin," Brian said rubbing the arm that had found its way out of the covers as Justin was now thrashing around.

"I'm not!" Justin repeated with some force and then suddenly sat up. His eyes opened and he groaned.

"Justin," Brian said reaching for him.

"Leave me alone," Justin said shoving him away. "It's your fault."

"What's my fault?" Brian asked.

"Wha'? Um…nothing. When did you get here?" Justin asked seeming confused.

"Are you awake?" Brian asked trying to feel his forehead again.

"Of course I am. I'm talking to you, aren't I?" He pushed Brian's hand away again.

"You were dreaming, talking in your sleep."

"I was?"

Brian nodded. "You had me worried. Did something happen while I was out tonight?"

Justin frowned and shook his head. "I'm all right," he said more to convince himself than Brian.

"You were sleeping all wrapped up like you do after a nightmare or a migraine. Did you have one or the other?"

"Not till you got here," Justin said uncharitably.

Brian pulled back and stared angrily at Justin. He was trying to help. Why was Justin doing his best to piss him off? "Then I'll leave you alone." Brian started to stand.

"I'm sorry," Justin said grabbing his arm. "Something did happen."

"Do you want to tell me? You don't have to if you don't want to."

"It was my father." Justin saw Brian visibly tense up and clench his jaw.

"What did that fucker do?"

"He called tonight."

"He actually made an overture to you?"

"Only to tell me that I'm ruining his business."

"And how the fuck does he figure that?"

"He lost a big client today because the guy saw our picture in the paper after Angela's funeral."

"Why would that make a client pull his account?" Brian asked not understanding the connection.

"We were holding hands."

"I remember that. You were like my lifeline. I was afraid to let go."

Justin smiled a bit. He liked it when Brian needed him and depended on him. It just didn't happen very often. "Apparently we are corrupting our, oh so saintly, country."

"Jesus fucking H. Christ! How did they reach that conclusion?" Justin shrugged. "One of these days I'm going to plaster a picture of me fucking your brains out on the front page of the Pittsburgh Herald. Your father will be out of business the next day."

"Brian," Justin said plaintively. "Don't even kid about something like that."

"I'd do it, you know. Maybe on the last day I serve as mayor."

Justin shook his head. He knew only too well what Brian was capable of doing. But it wouldn't be him that would bear the brunt of it, it would be Justin.

"Are you all right now?" Brian asked. "You felt a little hot."

"My father … upset me."

"He has that down to a fine science." Brian studied Justin. "Are you sure that's all?"

Justin nodded. He couldn't get into the real problem, not yet. He had finally figured out what had been bothering him for awhile and he needed to think about it calmly before he sprang it on Brian. He didn't need a fight with the man on top of everything else.

"He gave me a headache. I'm going to try to go back to sleep."

"Sure," Brian said wondering what Justin wasn't telling him.

"Goodnight."

"Later."

-----

Justin swept the black paint across the canvas. All the bright, cheery colors he had painted before were blacked out with only little specks of color now peeking through. He stood back and looked at the piece. That was it. It looked exactly how he felt.

The little rays of light in his life were gradually being snuffed out. He had sublimated himself to Brian and Brian's job. Before too long he would be able to cover the whole canvas totally in black. All light would be gone from his life. The essence of him would be lost.

Justin set the canvas on the floor to dry. He primed another one that he would use later in the week. Once that was done he began to clean his brushes. He was supposed to meet Daphne for coffee at four o'clock. He better hurry or he would be late.

When Justin walked into the coffee shop a half hour later, Daphne was already sitting in a booth. She waved to him. He smiled at her. At least she knew who he really was even if nobody else did. He ordered a latte at the counter figuring he needed the calories and sugar to get through the next few hours.

"Hey, good lookin'," she joked as he slid in across from her.

"Hey, yourself," he responded with a grin.

"So what's up?" Justin raised his eyebrows. "You hardly ever ask me for coffee. You're too busy these days what with the mayor and all the social events the two of you have to … attend," she finished hesitantly, seeing the steely look that came over Justin's face. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's not your fault."

"What's going on, Justin?"

He shook his head finding it difficult to think of a way to begin.

"Just tell me," she insisted.

"Can we talk about you first?" Justin asked.

She stared at him for a minute thinking this must be something big if he was having so much trouble even broaching the subject.

"Sure," she said finally as the waitress delivered her coffee and Justin's latte. She took a sip of the coffee. For the next five minutes she regaled Justin with accounts of her classes and professors and all the boys she was interested in and the one she had actually gone out with.

"So are you serious about him?" Justin asked when she finally took a breath.

"Not really. He was all right but he wasn't really that interested in me. I don't think I'll ever find someone. You're so lucky to have found Brian."

He snorted without thinking. Immediately Daphne knew what the source of Justin's funk was, not that she hadn't already guessed as much.

"So what did he do this time?" she asked.

"Believe it or not, he didn't do anything," Justin said rather testily.

"Then what's wrong? It has to have something to do with Brian."

"Doesn't it always?"

"What does that mean?" she pursued determined to pry the information out of him.

"It means that the universe revolves around Brian fucking Kinney and this satellite is getting fed up with the whole scenario."

"A little jealous, are we?"

"No fucking way! I'm not jealous. But I would like to be treated like a man, not his fucking dutiful wife."

"But that's what you are, in essence," Daphne replied.

"Thanks a fucking lot! You're supposed to be my friend, be on my side."

"I am on your side, but you must have known going in that you were assuming that role."

"I guess I sort of did, but I didn't expect it to become the only thing I am."

"What do you mean … the only thing?"

"I get teased at school about being the mayor's wife and Brian's friends call me the 'little woman'. Nobody cares that I'm an artist. It's totally irrelevant in Brian's political world. Last night my fucking father called and accused me of losing a client for him because I'm shown in the paper with Brian holding hands. For God's sake, holding hands! When I think of all the things there could have been pictures of us doing, and holding hands loses him a client. Then he tells me that I'm aiding in the corruption of the country by my perverted lifestyle. I'm just fucking sick to death of the whole bloody thing. I want out. I want my own life back."

"Are you saying you want to leave Brian?" Daphne asked her eyes wide in disbelief.

"I don't want to leave him, but I'm getting lost in his life. I need a life of my own. I need to be my own person."

"Have you told him this?"

"Yeah right, like he could spare me five minutes of his valuable time so I could tell him?"

"You haven't even mentioned this to him, have you?"

Justin looked sheepish. "No, not yet. He won't listen anyway, and if he does he'll tell me I'm being a baby. He won't try to do a fucking thing about it."

"You don't know that, if you haven't even spoken to him about it."

"I bet it's an accurate description of how it will play out."

"When did you decide all this?"

"When my father called, I … got really upset and yelled at him. Somewhere during that rant I realized that I have no life of my own. I'm living Brian's life and I've lost mine along the way. I'm not satisfied with being a wife and a social hostess and Brian's own personal fixer-upper when anything goes wrong. I'm a student and an artist and a man. That's how I want to be treated."

"Then tell him that."

"Easy for you to say."

"I know Brian can be … difficult," Daphne admitted. "But he's also a reasonable man and he loves you." Justin snorted. "You know he does even if he doesn't say it. He wants you to be happy. If you're not, you should tell him."

"Even if he wanted to help me, he's the mayor and I'm his partner. Nothing's going to change."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I don't know. I'm just so … frustrated."

"Talk to him, Justin, before it's too late."

"You think I should?"

"I know you should," she said emphatically.

"You know what he said last night?" She shook her head. "He said that he'd like to put a photo of him fucking my brains out on the front page of the Pittsburgh Herald."

Daphne chuckled. "Was that in response to what your father said?"

Justin nodded. "But the funny part was that he said he'd do it on the day he was through as mayor."

Daphne looked into Justin's eyes. She could tell he was hoping that day would come very, very soon.

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