Set shortly after season four

Brian knew something was wrong with Justin and had been for a couple days. The little twat had been in his life long enough that Brian knew he almost better than he knew himself. Even if he couldn't read the kid, the fact that Justin brushed him off when it came to sex said it.

Brian closed the gate to the elevator and walked to the door of the loft.

He knew something was bothering his blond twinkie, but he hadn't said anything. The last time Justin pulled away it was because he wanted a commitment from the older man. Brian was worried that was what was on the kid's mind again. And he wanted to ignore it as long as he could.

The lights were on in the loft when he opened the door, but it was silent. Usually Justin had the TV or radio on when he was alone, even if he was lost in his art. It was late, after one, so perhaps he'd already gone to bed.

"Hey, Sunshine," he called out lightly, pushing the door closed.

Justin stepped out of the bedroom, fully dressed. He wasn't smiling as he usually was, wasn't even pretending to as he had for the past couple days.

"Going somewhere?" He asked lightly, his heart starting to pound. Something was really wrong, he could feel it.

"Yeah, I'm going somewhere," Justin said flatly, his face expressionless. It was a look Brian couldn't ever remembering seeing on the hot boy.

"Oh?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "Where?"

Justin walked to the couch and picked up his messenger/art bag, sliding it over his head. "None of your fucking business," he snapped, raising angry eyes to him.

Brian blinked at him, surprised. He hadn't done something to really upset the boy, had he?

"Justin?" He said with a raised brow. "What's wrong?" He rarely asked anyone that, but this was Justin.

"Everything," Justin said, clutching the strap of his bag. He took a deep breath, blew it out, and stared Brian right in the eyes. His bright blue eyes were filled with anger and hurt, something Brian had seen before. Unfortunately, he'd put that look in Sunshine's eyes a couple of times.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, sure of what Justin would say. He'd spout off about Brian staying out all night fucking, how he wished Brian would stay home for a change, how Brian never told him how he felt.

"You, Brian," the blond said heatedly, glaring. "You are what's wrong, everything about you is what's wrong."

"Excuse me?" Brian asked stupidly. Justin complained sometimes about a few of Brian's flaws, but he never said anything like that.

"Who and what you are is what's wrong," he said then shook his head. "I was wrong."

Brian raised a brow, his heart pounding. This was not one of their normal spats, one of Justin's little fits about not getting what he wanted.

Justin took another deep breath and blew it out. "I thought I loved you," he said flatly.

Brian froze. Thought? If there was one thing the kid was consistent with was that he swore he loved the older man.

"I was wrong," he said again and started walking for the door.

Brian clenched his hands into fists, anger and hurt building inside of him. "After four years?" He asked tightly. "You're going to just change your mind?"

Justin grabbed the bar on the door and slid it open. "No," he said turning to look at him. "After four years I'm going to finally admit the truth. I don't love you." He stared right into Brian's eyes, his hard and determined. "I just fooled myself into thinking I did. The truth is, Brian, I hate you."

"Bullshit," Brian snapped and took a step towards him. "You have hounded me and professed love for me since the night we met. Tell me what the hell is going on."

He shook his head a little. "I'm leaving," he said calmly. "I don't love you. I don't want you. I don't even like you anymore."

"Why?" Brian asked taking another step for the only man he actually wanted to keep in his bed.

"You're a heartless bastard," he said cruelly. "You fuck anyone."

Brian raised a brow, trying to act normal when he was scared that Justin might actually be serious about leaving, really leaving.

"You drink and do drugs every night," he went on. "You only care about yourself." He gave Brian a cruel smile. "And you're no longer the hot man that brought me here that night. You're getting old and you're no longer as attractive as I thought you were."

Brian tensed at his cruel words, because he was right. Brian cared more about himself than anyone else. He cared about his image, and hearing that the boy thought he was old and unattractive hurt.

"But mostly because after everything that you have done to me these past four years," he said after a short pause. "I hate you."

Brian inhaled sharply at the harsh words from him. Justin was the one person who never said anything like that to him.

"Good-bye, Brian," Justin said flatly and stepped out of the loft.

Brian stood frozen and the metal door was slammed shut. Justin, his Justin, had just walked out of him. And this time Brian knew it wasn't for some little reason.

After a minute, an hour, a year, he didn't know, he finally moved. He looked around at the suddenly empty loft. Justin's things were gone from the open living space. The computer Brian had bought him a couple years ago sat alone on the desk, all of the paper and pencils that were usually around it gone. There were no sketchbooks or clothes sitting around.

Walking numbly into the bedroom, he found the bed made up. None of Justin's trinkets sat on the little nightstand on his side of the bed. He opened the closet and dresser drawer, already knowing he would find Justin's things gone. The bathroom proved the same. There was nothing of Justin's left in the loft. He'd already moved out.

"Mother fucker," he screamed in anger, at his own stupidity. For allowing himself to feel anything for the kid, for letting him into his life and heart, but mostly for him walking out, for leaving Brian.