Brian stood and looked around the room as he found his jeans. It was few and far between that he would go to his trick's place when it was time to get down to it, and he felt uncomfortable. Little did he know the discomfort was for all the right reasons as he looked out the window of the apartment building and into the window parallel to his. He smiled as he watched a gay couple, a blond and a brunet make love.

Let me elaborate. Brian and his tricks simply fucked, as did Brian and Justin. These two, as he had observed, were making love. Slow. Face to face and with their arms wrapped tightly around each other. They would lock into a kiss after staring blankly, blissfully, into each others eyes.

"That brunet kid is a violin virtuoso. He plays the bejeezus outta that violin of his, and it's always so... soulful." Brian's trick stated as he handed Brian his shirt. "Now, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. Not when my partner will be home in a half hour."

Brian put on his shirt, the person across the way suddenly registering. Ethan Gold. He sat and numbly slipped his socks and shoes on, then stood again and looked at his trick with that trademark Brian Kinney smirk. "Your partner." He rolled his eyes and laughed as he left, taking the stairs just as said partner came out from between the elevator doors. He took the stairs slowly, his jaw set as his mind wandered. There was no doubt that the blond he saw was Justin. Not one.

As he reached the doorway, he looked through the pockets of his brown leather jacket and found his poppers. With a small frown, he tossed them away into a nearby wastebasket and left the apartment building. Only once had Brian Kinney ever felt as vulnerable as he did as he walked down the street, and that was when he held Justin's bloodied body in his arms, knowing not whether he would ever wake, or even be the same if he did.

Later That Night:

Back at Brian's loft, things were quiet. Justin sat at his drawing pad and began to sketch the first thing that came to his mind. He drew an hourglass shape using a rich, aged looking brown, then with a lighter brown, he filled in the body of the hourglass. With a silvery gray, he drew in strings, and switched to the original brown to draw the neck of the violin in behind the strings. He sighed wistfully and set down the pen, gently tracing the violin's contour with a gentle fingertip.

Brian slid the door open and walked numbly in, not bothering to close it behind him. Justin looked up, erasing his lovesick expression and began to carefully blend the colors with the fingertip already on the pad. He tore it off, pretending to be displeased, and crumpled it up, tossing it in the wastebasket beside Brian's desk. He sighed and watched Brian walk past. "You're home early."

Brian looked to the side and sneered at the boy. "Looks like you beat me here."

Justin frowned and stood. "Fuck you, Brian."

Brian walked through his bedroom and into his bathroom and replied in the same tone. "Not lately, Justin." He tossed his dirty clothes out onto his bed and climbed into the shower. Justin slammed his drawing pad down onto the desk and walked, as Brian had, through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He opened the shower door with some force, and stood before Brian.

"What is your problem?" He barked. Brian reached out and took a handful of Justin's shirt, pulling him beneath the shower stream fully clothed. "What the fuck?!" He pushed Brian away and tried to get out of the shower, only to be pulled back again by the back of his shirt.

He took the shirt clean off, his anger suddenly turning into lust as he shed the rest of his clothing. Before he let his jeans hit the floor, he pulled a condom out of the pocket and roughly turned Brian around. "You want fucked, Brian? Is this what you're giving me the cold shoulder over?"

Brian set his jaw, pressing his forehead against the fogged over glass.

"Your silence is purely initiative." Justin whispers. He hands Brian the condom. "Put it on me."

For the first time in a long time, Brian's hands shook. He tore the top off of the wrapper with his teeth, spitting it out onto the shower floor. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned around and pulled the condom out. He applied it to Justin, who was already fully standing.

Sternly, Justin spoke. "Turn back around." He took Brian by the shoulders and turned him roughly, pressing his forehead back to the glass...

Brian woke alone to the suddenly cold stream in the shower. He failed to see the wispy streams of red washing down the drain with the clear. He pressed the shower door open, missing the bloody hand print he left there, downward rolling beads of condensation streaking through it like rain through mud.

Breath came to him as though he had just risen from a deep sleep, in gentle sighs. He stood and stretched, his eyes refusing to register the blood spray across the mirror. He walked through the loft, oblivious to the bloody trail on the hardwood floor that started at the bathroom door and ended right behind the island in his kitchen. "Justin?"

He walked toward the kitchen, still stark naked, and swore as he stepped into a cold puddle. "What the fuck, Sunshine? Can't you clean up after yourself like a good little twink?" He blindly grabbed for the towel hanging on the towel ring and looked down at the mess, seeing dark, dark red, offset by blond. He stepped back, stumbling, and fell on his backside.

More to Come...