That love would be tested the next morning, for Justin made a shocking announcement.

"I've had an offer to bring my art to New York," he said over breakfast.

Brian's stomach sank, for his worst fears had come true. Justin—his Sunshine—was leaving. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Don't cry," Justin said. He reached over and wiped it away. "I'm just leaving Pittsburgh," he added, "not you."

"Yes, you are," Brian said, his voice shaking.

"But I'm not breaking up with you," Justin reassured him, coming around to hold Brian in his arms as the tears flowed. "And it'll just be for a year."

"It's going to be the loneliest year of my life," Brian sobbed, "without my Sunshine."

"I'll call—or write—every day," Justin said. He leaned in and kissed the tears away. "I still love you."

Brian knew what he had to do. Hitting one knee, he produced a small box. "I want you to have this," he said, opening it, "as a symbol of your promise to return—I guess what I'm trying to ask is—"

Justin's eyes filled with tears. Was Brian—was Brian really asking what he thought he was?

"Will you marry me?"

Now it was Justin's turn to burst into tears. He threw his arms around Brian and cried. "Yes," he sobbed, "I will marry you."

As Brian slid the ring on Justin's finger, more tears welled in his eyes. "I'll be waiting," he whispered, as he held Justin close to him. "I won't ever stop loving you."

"And when I get back," Justin said, "we'll start planning as soon as possible. If things get too rough," he added, "you know you can always go to the tree."

"I may just camp out there," Brian said, in a feeble attempt at humor. Justin just laughed—and gave him a big hug, kissing him on the cheek.

Before Brian realized it, their bed only held him. But, he knew, right outside their window was—the tree. The same tree he'd carved the heart in just after bringing Justin home from the bombed Babylon.

Slowly, he made his way out to the tree. Lying near the heart, he traced their letters with his finger. He could almost hear Justin's voice:

"I love you, Brian—and I'm counting the days until I can come home."

Friends checked in on him—for which he was grateful—but the most constant companion he had was Daphne. Her arms were always open—and her shoulder always available for a crying session, which she withstood without complaint. "It's going to be okay," she'd whisper, stroking his hair. "He still loves you."

"When will it stop hurting?" he asked one day, during one of these sessions.

"It may never," was the reply. "But that's love for you—if you didn't love Justin so much, you wouldn't be feeling this pain."