MOMENTS

Within the din of the crowd something was vying for the foreground. A single note.

That single note awoke slowly, the musician holding it, stretching it, until it fell beneath the stunned silence of the accidental audience, vanishing as quickly as it had emerged.

One breath.

Another.

Then four notes filled the air, in short succession. They resounded but then, again, the musician drew them out. Teased them into silence.

The musician was Ethan and the song, the composition Ethan had written for Justin. He'd spent days holed up in his dump of an apartment playing snatches of notes, scribbling, and ignoring the neighbors pounding on the wall to produce it. He hadn't eaten or slept the whole time. In that moment, the moment Ethan, pale, dirty, and barely able to stand from exhaustion and hunger, played the song for Justin, Justin had thought that was the sweetest thing anyone could ever do, certainly the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him. He couldn't stop the tears from falling. Or himself from falling into bed one second after Ethan set his instrument down.

Fuck.

Induced by a sense memory, Justin felt tears at the back of his throat.

Over and over, these four notes burst forth out of the pregnant silence like a fire in the rain, even at one point crackling, vibrating with life. The silences grew shorter and the notes longer and faster, louder. They pleaded. They remembered. They reminded.

They quavered with undischarged energy, building, building, desperate to work their will.

Finally, finally, the crescendo rose and then crashed, ripping through the air, pulling with it the collective breath of everyone watching, eyes wide, mouth agape.

Ethan lifted his head slowly, his eyes rising and then falling on Justin. Like a brush stroke, soft and slow. Justin shivered involuntarily. That was the look. The look he'd first given Justin at the concert. Ethan's eyes burned black for a moment and then melted into chocolate. Justin swallowed hard.

Fuck.

A sudden roar filled Justin's ears. It sounded like the ocean in a seashell. But it turned out to be clapping and cheering.

Ethan moved forward toward Justin.

With each step, Justin's chest constricted. He could no longer hear anything but the beating of his own heart. He was paralyzed. In the brief space of three minutes he had allowed himself to dwell in limbo. He didn't encourage or discourage. It was almost as if he was outside of his body watching, a spectator, a third party. He felt both the agony of the public display of his betrayal and the sweetness, the softness of the gesture. He remembered the innocence he'd felt with Ethan - the absence of others, the absence of rejection and pain, the absence of fear. Then Ethan touched Justin's hand. It hardly qualified as a touch, just two glancing fingers but that non-touch touch seared, burning worse than the coffee the other day.

Brian. Oh, Brian.

Justin stepped back and whipped around, searching. His mind was so hazy, the restaurant so dark, so crowded...people had stood up to watch. Justin couldn't distinguish anybody. They were all just looming shadows.

Ethan was talking, but Justin didn't register a single word, not even a sound.

Was Brian here? Did he see? Oh God, did he see?

Emmett had been trying to get Justin's attention. He'd said "Baby" softly three times. He finally broke the trance Justin had fallen into by grabbing his arm, much harder than Justin would have expected. Then in a husky whisper, he warned him: "Front corner."

Justin was mentally banging his head against the wall. Of course, he'd known that. He'd watched him saunter in, easy as butter and sexy as hell just twenty minutes before Ethan's entrance.

No.

No.

No, no, no!

Justin turned, but slowly like he was about to face a firing squad. One glance and Justin knew. Brian had seen everything. The look on his face, in his eyes. His hesitation. His rush of guilt.

For the first time ever, Justin had no clue what Brian was feeling. Or thinking. Justin scrutinized every inch of him, but he got nothing. Absolutely nothing in his posture, facial expression, eyes...absolutely nothing betrayed him. Justin felt his chest empty out. He'd never been more afraid. He'd always, always, been able to read Brian. That was his thing. No matter what Brian did, no matter what he said, Justin could see beyond it, behind it, under it. But, in that moment, Brian was just gone. And Justin was adrift. No anchor and miles from any shore.

Justin took a breath, hoping that would release the unbearable pressure in his chest. He forced the tension out of his arms and legs. Then he walked over to Brian's table. Not fast. Not slow.

What the fuck do I say?

As luck would have it, he didn't have to say anything. The little birdie already whispering in Brian's ear "broke the ice" for him. "Wow, Justin. He's ass over tea kettle in love with you ... as Ma would say. Walking in here like that, saying nothing, just showing you his feelings through music...It's something straight out of a romance novel. You must be touched. I would be, that's for sure. What did you do to that poor boy?" He was brimming over with excitement. He could barely keep the laughter from bubbling up out of his voice.

Justin had clenched his teeth as Michael spoke, but then he forced a smile and, in a cheery voice, replied, "Well, as far as I know, he's available. If you like him, you should take a run at him."

Michael rolled his eyes. "As if. I have better taste." With that, he squeezed Brian's arm.

Ted mumbled, "Well, and you're taken."

Jesus, had Ted been there the whole time?

Justin's eyes had never left Brian. They'd been searching desperately for any clue as to what kind of hell roiled beneath his seemingly apathetic exterior. Brian still betrayed nothing. Not even when he said, "I think the violinist is trying to get your attention."

Justin feigned light indifference. He shrugged. His eyes still hadn't left Brian.

Break. Break. Break. Come on. Just one thing, anything.

Emmett stepped forward, standing next to Justin, and shook his head. "It might be a sweet gesture if it wasn't so damn creepy. Who serenades someone else's boyfriend?"

Brian interjected softly, "Indeed."

With that single word, it felt like Brian had stabbed Justin in the stomach. But however loaded it was, Brian could have been relaying his dinner order.

Undaunted, Emmett continued trying to smooth things over, to make peace. "Tsk, tsk." He nodded solemnly. "A desperate, possibly dangerous individual. I'd take out a restraining order. Or ask Debbie to ban him." Emmett's pretended drama, like a wave, carried Emmett along with it. Hand on his hip, his indignation flared. "This is your place of work! People aren't allowed to harass you in your place of work. That's illegal."

Justin was in a special kind of hell. He had no idea what to do. He had no idea what Brian would do. He had no idea what Ethan would do. He stood there just waiting for what would come next. He knew he had to recover...but how? He had an hour left on his shift. He was desperate to keep Brian there, as uncomfortable as it was, if only so he could watch him...so he'd know what Brian was doing if not what he was feeling, what he was thinking.

If only Ethan would simply vanish.

Unfortunately, the boy couldn't take a hint. The moment Ethan had reached for Justin, Justin had flinched and wrenched his hand away, and he had shown him nothing but his back since, but Ethan was undeterred. He had sat down with some of his new admirers and was now calling Justin over...waving a menu. Apparently he planned to order.

Justin's head swam with a litany of curses.

This time on a Monday, he was the only server. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Then the unexpected happened. Brian jumped up and grabbed Justin's order pad out of his hand and even the pen from behind Justin's ear. Then in a chipper voice, followed by a grin, Brian offered, "Allow me."

Emmett muttered, "Oh holy hell."

GAME ON

Ethan saw Brian coming his way and froze. He truly was beautiful and the composure...astounding. How could he look so calm and even happy...after the performance...that performance...Ethan couldn't understand. He knew he had serious skills. It was only a matter of time before he got a record contract or an invitation to play in a major orchestra. Maybe even in Europe. But Brian didn't seem fazed in the least.

If their situations were reversed, he would probably have left. Especially given Justin's initial reaction. Justin had been caught, like a fly in a spider's web. Ethan hadn't planned to try to talk to him, but after seeing the look on his face, white white white except for a little pink in his cheeks, his eyes wide and shiny, like he was on the cusp of tears...he thought maybe winning Justin back was as good as done.

But then Ethan had touched him, breaking the spell. Now Justin was ignoring him. He should have left right after he'd finished playing. But having failed to do that, he'd decided to hold his ground. What the hell? If Justin's superhuman effort to avoid engaging was any indication, Ethan's continued presence was unsettling...was causing problems. And that had always been plan B. If he couldn't get Justin back directly, indirectly would work just as well. If he pissed Brian off enough, caused enough embarrassment and humiliation, Brian would end their relationship...he'd have to. And do so in a way that would leave Justin broken, ripe for the picking. Not exactly his preference, but he didn't really care too much about the how.

Justin was his muse. Ethan had never played better, written more poignantly, than when Justin was by his side, in his bed. He couldn't lose that. And they were made for each other. They'd spent dozens of afternoons creating together...feverishly, Ethan playing, Justin painting...and when twilight came, Justin would grab him, smearing his skin with paint, in all manner of colors, touching him everywhere, kissing him everywhere, biting, licking, sucking, like a man possessed, desperate to exorcise demons. Moments after and even during, those experiences were a blur...every part...the creating, the fucking. It was as if they'd slipped into another dimension or slowed time...Just remembering made it hard for Ethan to breathe. Let Justin go? He could NEVER do that. They were magic.

When Brian reached the table, he narrowed his eyes a little and looked Ethan over. Ethan wondered when Brian had realized who he was. Had it just happened? How did it feel? Being face to face and a foot away from the man who had drawn attention away from Brian Fucking Kinney, super stud? Ethan couldn't help but smile.

"Pretty tune. A little basic for my taste and maybe sickly sweet, but I guess it takes all kinds." Brian shrugged. But then his eyes started dancing ... and his lips curled ever so slightly ... like dawn...his smile peeked like streams of yellow-white light peeked over the horizon.

"Uh..." Ethan's mind went blank. He could have kicked himself. That dick. He was flirting. And even worse, it was fucking working. How? He hated Brian. He was king douche. Ethan looked over at Justin. He hadn't budged but he'd turned to watch. In fact, all of Brian's friends had. They were all watching intently but with very different expressions on their faces, ranging from horror to mild interest to glee. He licked his lips and stared at Justin for a moment. The best palate cleanser. He needed to keep his eye on the ball, to stay focused.

Brian drawled, "Be careful with that witty repartee. You could hurt someone." There was a laugh in those last four words...and maybe an invitation, a challenge. His smile brightened, just a little, and reached his eyes.

In spite of himself, Ethan actually colored at that. Then he countered, "Simplicity has a special beauty. Some things draw us all toward them...trite is trite for a reason. Such things resonate with us at almost the genetic level."

Brian's eyes darkened. Game, set, match.

Brian dropped his head a little and nodded. When he looked back at Ethan, his eyes burned and when he spoke...Ethan wasn't sure what note was there...the game was changing but he couldn't quite put his finger on how. Brian said, "What do you want?"

What conversation were they having? Ethan did not know.

Brian tapped the order pad with the pen.

Ah. "I don't know, um. A cheeseburger and fries."

Brian scoffed. But then back came the lilt..."You sure you wouldn't prefer something with a little more subtlety? And fewer calories?"

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. But now his eyes burned. "I know what I want."

Brian inclined his head. "Don't let me stand in the way." Brian was still smiling, but there was a tightness in his lips and in his face and a coldness in his eyes. "I certainly never let anyone keep me from what I want." Then the sun returned...Brian's voice was musical and melty. "I'm all about fulfilled desires."

Unbidden, an image of Brian forced its way into Ethan's head...sweaty, naked, olive skin glowing. Separating them was not going to be easy. Just being around him for a few minutes, having the most mundane of conversations, was intoxicating. And if Ethan was reading between the lines correctly, Brian had no intention of bowing out.

Brian scribbled something on the order pad and swung around, in a single fluid movement, all the while exhaling. He ripped the ticket off and stuck it on the order carrel. He strode back over to his table and to a stunned Justin. He slipped the pad back into Justin's still open hand, smiled a sexy flirtatious smile, much different from the one he'd used on Ethan, and slowly slid the pen back behind Justin's ear. He nodded. "Sunshine." The word was whisper soft and conveyed much more than a greeting. His tone...the word...the smile...the gentleness of Brian's touch...it was all a code Ethan couldn't crack. But clearly Justin could. He flushed red and smiled. The smile was so blinding Ethan had to turn away.