disclaimer: I do not claim to own Queer As Folk of any of its characters.

a/n: It's been a long time since I've written fan fiction, and I'm excited to be back. This is my first fic in the QAF universe (though it is an AU) and feedback would be much appreciated.

thanks for reading,

- SHINA

ONE

Leaving Home Behind

"Justin!"

The slurring voice of Craig Taylor echoed up the narrow staircase, rage intertwining with each syllable. A clatter of feet clumsily mounting the stairs immediately followed. The footsteps, though irregular, grew louder and louder with Craig's approach. There was a hitch, a clatter, and the sound of shattering.

"Goddammit!"

Justin Taylor's eyes darted anxiously toward his bedroom door. There was not much time left now. He mentally reviewed the contents of his rucksack as he threw it over his shoulder. There were arts supplies: acrylic paint, charcoal, drawing paper, his sketchbooks, though he had no idea where or when he would get the chance to work. He had tightly folded two changes of clothes, one for painting and one slightly more formal. He packed two books: The Catcher In the Rye and a book of Lewis Carroll poems, and he knew that inside that book of poems, was a black and white photograph of his mother, Jennifer, taken only a few weeks before she died. Wrapped in a rubber band were all the bills he could gather, mostly ones and fives, that all together with his loose change added up to be roughly forty-five dollars. He was terrified and nearly broke, but he was also desperate to get away.

Craig was a tyrant. He punished Justin mercilessly and without good reason. His childhood home had become nothing more than a place of turmoil, and though the thought of leaving had always been a fantasy to Justin, he had never quite been able to muster up the courage.

It was this night, however, after spending the better part of the evening in his bedroom, hiding away from Craig, that something inside Justin finally snapped. He didn't know where he would go, but he emptied out his school backpack, papers and books scattering across his tiny bedroom, and began filling the bag as quickly as he could. His heart raced, his hands shook, and he had to mutter quietly to himself to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. He knew he would only be able to pack what he could carry with him, but somehow, this only seemed more liberating.

Everything was going smoothly, until Justin in his haste accidentally knocked the water glass he used for painting and sent it tumbling to the floor with a brilliant shatter. The sound had roused Craig immediately, as though he had been waiting for it, and his approach had quickly ensued.

With no lock to catch it, the doorknob twisted easily, and the door swung open. Craig lingered silhouetted in its frame, a menacing silence all he brought with him. Justin rushed then toward the window, the only exit left for his escape.

"And just where the hell do you think you're going?" Craig's voice was low and cool, like distant thunder.

Having undone the latch, Justin tried to lift the window open, but it must not have been opened in years. It wouldn't budge.

"HEY! I asked you a question, you little fuck, and you'll answer me when I'm talking to you."

Craig then pulled Justin back by the fabric of his backpack, sending him reeling backward toward the hardwood floor. He stood over his son, eyes narrowed, but Justin had learned better than to answer. He was certain Craig wouldn't like anything he had to say.

His silence was rewarded with a strike across the face, and when that did nothing, Craig progressed to a kick in the ribs. Tears welled up in Justin's eyes as he absorbed the almost insurmountable pain.

"What? Are you going to cry now, little faggot? Go on then. Cry. I'm sure your mother would be proud."

That was it. Justin relinquished his passive responses and quickly leapt up, grabbing a shocked Craig by the lapel of his shirt, and shoving him back against the wall. The time he earned wasn't much, but it was enough to get out of his bedroom and halfway down the stairs before he heard his father once again on his feet and following close behind.

Justin reached the front door and felt Craig's fingers brush his arm, attempting to grab his wrist. Quickly, Justin slammed the door, as hard as he could, catching Craig's fingers in the frame with a sickening crack.

He did not look back as his father bellowed out cries of pain, cursing Justin, but instead, sprinted as he never had before into the cool September night.

Justin slowed his pace as he reached a metro bus stop at the end of his subdivision, watching the late-night bus approach. The advertising wrap read 'Liberty Avenue: Be free. Be you.' against the silhouette of two men embracing over a rainbow-striped background. Justin knew then exactly where he would go, exactly where he wanted to be.

…

"What can I get'cha, honey?"

Startled out of his reverie, Justin looked up into the face of the waitress looming over him. He was unsure how long he had been staring at the menu for the Liberty Diner, but he was sure it was long enough to have made a decision.

The waitress smacked her gum dully, one hand on her hip and the other holding a tray just over her shoulder. Her eyes were glazed, but she smiled weakly at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, um — could I um —…?"

He started again when her tray clattered onto the table and she dropped into the seat opposite him with and deep sigh.

"You don't mind, do ya, honey? Been here since eight this morning and my feet are killing me."

She chuckled lightly and her blue eyes illuminated with the sound. Justin examined her then. Her hair was curly and unkempt, an unnatural shade of red, and despite its short length, she had bundled sections of it together in colorful scrunchies, like a pigtail on each side of her head. She wore a vest littered with colorful buttons of various sizes, all stating her opinions on everything from gay politics to grilled cheese, and under it, a t-shirt which read, 'I heart boys who heart other boys.' Her name tag read Debbie. Justin liked her already.

"I should be serving you." Justin offered, taking notice of her clear exhaustion. He checked his watch. It was after midnight.

Debbie guffawed then. "No thanks, sweetie. I'm not interested in your kind of service, but it's sweet of you to even consider a worn out old thing like me."

She patted his hand, and her rainbow bangles clinked together.

Justin blinked, "What do you mean?"

Debbie raised an knowing eyebrow. "C'mon, Sunshine. I know what the boys your age who come in this time of night are up to."

"What are you talk—…?"

But he was interrupted by the tinkling of the bell over the Liberty Diner's entrance and Debbie's exuberant cry of, "Hey there, boys!"

Justin looked up and was struck instantly by the tall, slender figure in the doorway. The man was lean, but muscular, and wore a sleeveless black button-down paired with tight black jeans. His lithe body gave his movement grace. He was brunette, maybe late twenties, and he stared shamelessly back at Justin.

The brunette's friends beckoned him into their booth and after a brief pause, he joined them just as Debbie came to take their order. They were all clearly familiar with the waitress.

"You boys look like you've had quite the night! What can I get for ya'?"

Justin could feel the eyes still following him as he tried to awkwardly occupy himself with charcoal and drawing paper from his rucksack. He had drawn the angular jaw and sharp eyes before he caught himself, and he blushed at how intensely even the eyes in his drawing stared back at him.

"Can I have a look?"

Justin's head jerked up in response. There was the tall brunette, one hand on the table, leaning into Justin with a casual closeness. He smelled amazing.

"C'mon Brian," one friend whined from behind him. He looked especially plain in comparison, like a typical boy-next-door. "We just got here!"

Brian ignored him and instead seated himself across from Justin. He raised an eyebrow and breathed in a smooth, husky voice, "You mind?"

Justin gulped, and shaking his head seemed to be all he could manage.

"Oh, Brian," Debbie called with what was clearly false sweetness. She was filling water glasses at the counter, and she did not look at him.

Brian cocked his head to the side, hands folded neatly on the table, and he did not quite look at Debbie. The pose was slightly threatening.

"Sunshine there is a real sweetheart. Mess with him and I'll serve your balls up for the Pink Plate special, got it?"

"Not to worry, Deb. Sunshine couldn't be in better hands."

Brian then nodded to the page Justin was now hiding under the table.

"Let me see."

Cautiously, Justin pulled the drawing from his lap and handed it to Brian.

Brian smirked and ran his fingers along Justin's hands as he took the paper from him. Justin went crimson. An electric pulse shot through him. His eyes darted up to Brian's and they were hazel and bright, pouring into Justin some secret energy he could not quite understand.

"This isn't half bad, Sunshine."

Justin couldn't help but grin in pleasure.

"Do you have more?"

He was more eager this time as he handed Brian a sketchbook from his bag. Brian, flipped through, nodding in approval.

"Your style is very Anthony Ryder."

"Holy shit!" Justin laughed. "I think you're the first person in Pittsburgh I've met who even knows Ryder's work!"

Brian shrugged, "My friend Lindsay is an art teacher. She regularly drags me to gallery openings and such. Plus, I took a few art courses in college."

Justin could feel himself lighting up, "Really? Where did you go? What did you study?"

Brian glanced up and seemed to take in Justin's new and more animated demeanor. If there was anything that would bring Justin out of his shell, it was art.

"Carnegie Mellon. Advertising."

"No shit? I wanna go to SAIC or maybe PIFA."

As he came to the end of the book, Brian handed it back to Justin.

"How old are you?"

Justin suddenly grew suspicious. His eyes narrowed slightly. He wondered if Brian knew just how young he was, if that would be the end of their conversation. He also knew, that Craig would have called the police by now, and anyone they interrogated, they would be asking for a seventeen year old.

"Does it matter?"

It wasn't necessarily the best response, but it was the first Justin could think of.

Brian, who had reached over to take a sip of Justin's coffee, sputtered in surprise.

"Spoken like a true man of the night. But in answer to your question, Sunshine. No, not to me." He glanced up through his lashes and added, "Within reason."

He then held Justin's mug out to Debbie.

"Deb! This shit is like icy piss. Get Sunshine a fresh cup, will you? On me."

"Hold on a second," Justin cried, holding up his hands defensively. "Do you all think I'm a hustler?"

Brian blinked at him, but said nothing.

Debbie called from the counter where she was brewing a new pot of coffee, "You mean, you're not?"

"Of course not!"

Justin was surprised to see Brian lean back and smirk. He simply said, "Good to know," but remained seated. He seemed to be contemplating something.

There was a brief pause as Debbie brought over Justin's coffee, along with two lemon bars murmuring a little ashamedly, "On the house, sweetheart."

"So do you have a job?" Brian inquired suddenly.

Justin coughed a little on his bite of lemon bar, and took a sip of coffee. He wheezed, "What?"

"A job. Jeez, sonny-boy."

"No."

"How much for the drawing then, the one of me?"

Justin shrugged. "I don't know. You can just have it I guess."

Brian reared back, "Don't be a twat, of course I can't. Now, how much?"

Justin shrugged again. "Twenty?"

"I'll make it fifty."

"But that's too much!"

Brian pulled a bill from his wallet and held it out to Justin.

"Take the god-damned money, Sunshine."

Pocketing the bill gratefully, Justin murmured, "Thanks."

"Thanks is bullshit."

"Sorry."

"Sorry's bullshit, too. You did good work and earned money for it. Never apologize for that."

Their eyes met for a while and an unspoken exchange passed between them. Brian knew. He had to know that Justin was a runaway.

"Well, regardless if it's bullshit or not, thank you."

Brian nodded vaguely.

"Brian, are you coming back?" It was the same friend from before.

Justin realized this boy-next-door guy had been watching them both anxiously ever since Brian and come over to Justin's table.

"Your friends are waiting for you."

Without missing a beat, Brian ignored this last comment and asked,"You have somewhere to be tonight, Sunshine?"

"Not really, no."

"I can change that."

Justin blinked in surprise. He paused, waiting for the punchline.

At last, he exclaimed, "Oh, shit, are you actually trying to pick me up?"

Brian coughed a snicker and the sound of it tightened the muscles in Justin's stomach.

Sex was something other people did, not him, not Justin, and certainly not with this tall, dark predator.

"Come on, Brian! There's no room for your boy-toy tonight."

With a roll of his eyes, Brian whirled around and groaned, "Will you fuck off, Michael!"

In response, his friend seemed irritated, but not abashed. He fell silent, nonetheless.

Justin gazed at Brian for a moment before saying, "You don't even know me."

"Yeah, but by the end of the night, I intend to."

…

It was about half past one a.m. when Brian and Justin exited the diner, and they were followed by the rest of Brian's party, as well as Debbie, whose shift had just ended.

"So do people always do what you tell them?" Justin inquired as he followed Brian down the sidewalk.

"Usually," Brian replied. "It comes in handy when you run a business."

"What business?"

"Kinnetic. It's an advertising agency."

Justin raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. You seem kind of young to have your own agency. How old are you?"

"Does it matter?"

Justin blushed a little.

Brian moved forward. "How would you like to come work for me?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"I never fuck around when it comes to business. Like I said. You're work is good. Our art department could use some real talent."

"Wow. Shit. I really don't know what to say."

"You could try 'thank you' for starters since you seem to be so fond of the phrase."

"Yeah, thanks!" and Justin was suddenly beaming. "Really. You don't know what this means to me."

He reached out to touch Brian's arm, but decided against it.

He tried another tactic, "So do you live close by?"

"Close enough. Why is walking too much for you?"

It wasn't mocking. It seemed to be a genuine question.

"No, I'm fine!"

Brian wasn't buying it. He got to the street corner and dialed a number on his cell phone, giving their location to whomever was on the other line. He confirmed something in their response and hung up promptly.

"What was that?" Justin asked.

Brian turned to him, "I called us a cab. My place can be walking distance from here, but it's a long walk, and I'm tired."

They stood for a few minutes in silence, before Justin finally spoke.

"Do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Hide your kindness behind a facade of selfishness."

Brian gave him a tight smile. "How poetic. No, Sunshine, the fact of the matter is I'm a selfish asshole who would like nothing more than to take you home right now and fuck your brains out."

Justin felt that same electricity run through him.

"So, I guess you really are expecting sex then." His voice was tight in his throat.

Brian eyed him and seemed genuinely surprised by Justin's tone.

"Well, shit, Sunshine, I'm not forcing you into anything."

"But — I mean …"

"Look, no need to bang for roof. You can just crash at my place tonight if that's all you want."

Justin turned to face Brian, full on. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

And he could see there was an answer there, but he could also see that Brian wasn't planning on sharing it.

"I don't require sex in exchange for decent human behavior. Well, sometimes."

"Ah, I see." It was Justin's turn to smirk.

Brian was looking at Justin's lips. "But I am always willing to participate."

He leaned in, his face just inches from Justin's. Brian's scent overwhelmed Justin and he found his body tightening in response to him, orienting itself around him. They were so close.

But before the distance between them could be filled, a voice from close by called out.

"Justin? Justin Taylor?"