A.N.

All lyrics in this story are from original unpublished songs, not written by me, alas ...

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"Hey, Ben. Is Michael there?"

"Brian? No … hold on a moment, let me just take this pot off the heat…"

The phone was put down on a hard surface: I heard him clattering around in the background and wondered what kind of vegetarian nightmare he was in the process of cooking: it wasn't like I didn't understand and approve his determination to eat healthy, but all that Quorn and tofu shit were several steps too far.

He came back to the phone. "Sorry about that. I'm fixing lunch. No, Michael's on his way over to you."

"He is? Do we have something planned?"

"Well, you did last night. You were supposed to meet us at Babylon, remember?"

Ah. So I was … before I got side-tracked. "Something came up," I replied.

He chuckled. "That's what we thought. Michael tried to reach you this morning, but you were on another call."

"Yeah … I was talking for a while." Mikey must have rung while I was speaking to Ethan. "Look, Ben … you don't know if he still has Melanie's cell number, do you?"

"What … Lindsay's Mel?" he asked, sounding surprised.

I snorted. "Please don't tell me there's another one."

He laughed again. "That would be too much of a good thing, wouldn't it? But yes, I think so. She handled the sale of the comic store for him, and I know they've spoken since. Why? Do you have a problem?"

"No, I just want some legal advice for a friend of mine."

There was a pause, during which I was sure he was trying to identify someone other than Michael whom I might consider 'a friend' and whether or not he therefore had something to worry about. I smirked, not about to enlighten him.

"Don't worry, I'll ask him when he gets here. Sorry to have disturbed you."

"Not a problem," he replied, a little doubtfully. "Oh, and ask Michael to pick up a quart of natural yoghurt on his way home, would you?"

"Sure." I ended the call and stood pondering: I was rank enough to be able to smell myself and I needed a shower more than I wanted to think about, but Mikey couldn't be far away and I knew that I'd no sooner get myself under the spray before he'd be hammering on the door. As I debated whether to risk it anyway my eyes fell on the CD case Justin had left, still lying on the coffee table, and all thoughts of personal hygiene disappeared.

I don't know what I'd expected, really. The CD was a store-bought re-write, so I knew it wasn't likely to be one of Sirius' recordings: the cardboard insert bore a handwritten list of what were presumably song titles, none of which I recognized. What I heard when I inserted the disc in the player was firstly a lilting acoustic guitar intro followed by Justin's unmistakable voice: he wasn't singing anything familiar and after a minute I realised I must be listening to one of his own compositions, the ones Ethan had referred to. I paused the disc, poured myself a glass of Beam, settled myself on the sofa and started the CD again.

The moon casts its light on the ocean, the gentle surf breaks softly on the beach,

The stars shine like jewels in the heavens but like you, my love, they're far beyond my reach.

I sit in the sand with a rifle in my hand, in this foreign land so far across the sea,

But remember I'll always love you, and Avalon is where I long to be.

I listened, surprised and impressed. Justin had obviously recorded the song himself, either before he'd moved in at the Starlight or perhaps during the early days when he'd still had access to the guest suite, so the quality wasn't the greatest. However, that in no way detracted from his ability: if he was playing as well as singing - and I had no reason to think he wasn't - then he was as accomplished a guitarist as Ethan had claimed, performing the intricate rolling pick with practised ease.

The leaves at home will be falling – the sound of rustling footsteps in the street.

The nights will be starting to draw in – my mind is full of memories like these.

But I'm so far away, I live my life from day to day, never knowing what my future will be –

But remember I'll always love you, and Avalon is where I long to be.

They say today we are moving; already I can see the morning light.

I'm not too sure what we're proving or if what I am doing's wrong or right,

But forward I will go, and only God can know, cos he's the shaper of my destiny –

But remember I'll always love you, and Avalon is where I long to be.

Yes, Avalon … that's where I long to be.

Like most people, my musical preferences had been formed by the bands I'd grown up with – bands like the Smiths, the Clash and RME - but that didn't mean I couldn't appreciate other styles or recognize a great song when I heard one. This one was wholly original, beautiful both in its simplicity and its haunting imagery: a soldier, about to go into battle, his thoughts turning to what he'd left behind him. It could be set in any time or any war, and Justin managed to convey all the emotion of a young man facing death abroad, resigned to his fate but yearning for home, with simple dignity rather than mawkish sentimentality. I recalled reading how the classic British music show The Old Grey Whistle Test got its name: in the days of the Tin Pan Alley they would play a new song to one of the doormen – the Old Greys – and if he could whistle it after only hearing it once, they knew they had a hit on their hands. This song – unsurprisingly called Avalon, I noted – certainly ticked the box as far as I was concerned because, short as it was, it was memorable enough for me to have no doubt that I'd instantly recognize it if I ever heard it again. Music always had the power to affect me more than any other art form but I was still shaken to find myself actually swallowing a couple of times as the last chords died away: Brian Kinney moved by a love song? Either I was getting soft – and soft wasn't a description I ever wanted applied to myself, not in any way – or the kid really did have magic in his voice. Even though I was burning to hear the rest of the CD, I couldn't resist hitting replay and listening to the song again.

I'd just got to the end of the first verse when a double knock on the door announced Michael's arrival so I hurried to let him in, cursing under my breath at his interruption.

"Hey, asshole, where the hell did you get to?" he greeted me. His eyes took in my dishevelled appearance and he wrinkled his nose. "Jeeze, no need to ask. You smell like one of Ben's jock straps."

"He should be so lucky," I retorted, sliding the door closed behind him. "I just called you … your hubby said you were coming over. And before I forget, would you pick up a quart of natural yoghurt on the way home, dear?"

Mikey rolled his eyes as he followed me over to the sofa, flopping beside me and then cocking his head at the sound of Justin's voice still coming from the speakers. "What's this? Doesn't sound like your usual taste."

"It's Justin. The kid you met at the Diner, remember? Sirius?"

"Yeah?" He listened with more attention and his eyes widened. "Wow. He is good."

"He wrote it, too." I didn't know why it seemed important to tell Michael that fact or why I felt a strange warmth, like pride or some fucking thing, as I did so.

"Wow," he repeated. He gave me a sidelong glance and narrowed his eyes. "Justin, huh? I thought you weren't interested?"

I shrugged. "He was off limits then."

Mikey spluttered for a second. "Yeah, because he was jail-bait, and he still is! Jesus, Brian!"

I picked up the remote and turned off the CD, since I obviously wasn't going to be allowed to listen to it, and glared at him. "You're wrong, Michael, Justin is eighteen. Remember? Nice and legal. I was referring to my professional restraints at the time, which no longer apply."

He blinked at me, open-mouthed. "Meaning … what? You've fucked this kid? He's not even your type!"

The thing was, he was right. Justin wasn't my normal taste, not in any way, shape or form … other than the fact that he was physically perfect, and beautiful, and talented and smart and funny and brave … I was hardly going to admit any of that Lesbionic shit to Michael, though, so I just smirked at him. "He's hot. What more can I say?"

Mikey shook his head. "Well, I hope you made it clear to him you don't do repeats. Because don't blame me when he's hanging around after you, making puppy dog eyes and telling everyone how you've broken his wittle heart!"

Chance would be a fine thing. "I don't think you need worry about that eventuality, Mikey, and I don't need any advice about my sex-life from you. But there is one thing you can do for me … have you got Melanie's cell number?"

"Why the fuck would you want to know that?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

I sighed. "Because I want to speak to her?"

"Why?"

"Because I want her to carry my baby, why the fuck do you think? Christ, Michael! I want some legal advice, so just give me her goddamn number, already!" I rubbed my right temple where I could feel a headache beginning to build and wondered if other people's best friends so often caused such a detrimental effect, or if it was only Mikey.

His expression became concerned. "Legal advice? Are you in trouble, Brian?" He placed a worried hand on my knee.

"Why does everyone assume it's about me? It's about … someone else." I caught myself before the name slipped out, but Mikey picked up on it anyway.

"That kid?" He snorted. "It is, isn't it?"

"He's not 'that kid'," I found myself saying defensively. "He's Justin."

Mikey shrugged, his expression dismissive. "Whatever. Since when do you concern yourself with ex-tricks?"

"He wasn't a trick, Michael," I replied, my voice colder than I'd expected. "I know him. He's a friend."

"A friend?" he all but squawked. "But you don't fuck your friends…"

I could hear the hurt as well as the resentment in his voice and winced: after all, that was the argument I'd always used on him whenever he got too pushy - that we could never fuck because we were friends. It had somehow seemed kinder than the truth, which was that I could never fuck him because he was the brother I'd never had and to me it would be like committing incest. I reached out and clasped the back of his neck. "I didn't intend it to happen," I told him quietly. "But it did, and … well, I guess I'm worried about him. I want to help."

He gazed at me incredulously. "Are you trying to say you're … involved with him, or something?"

Was I? I had no idea, because I didn't even know what Justin wanted. The Later on the CD case could imply that he was intending to hook up again, or it might simply mean see you around, maybe. I had no way of knowing. Besides … how the fuck was I supposed to answer a question like that when I'd never experienced being 'involved' with anybody?

"I wouldn't go so far as that," I replied honestly. "But … I like him, Mikey. I like him a lot."

"Wow." His voice was soft, his eyes still locked on my face. "You're serious, aren't you?" He shook his head disbelievingly and laughed a little. "I never thought I'd see the day. Wait until Ma finds out … she's gonna go off like a rocket."

"She is not, because you're not going to tell her," I told him grimly, taking a firm grip on his shoulders so that he knew I wasn't kidding around. "Michael, are you listening? Justin is in some really deep shit through no fault of his own, only he's too stubborn to admit he needs help. If he finds I've gone behind his back and discussed it with anyone else I don't believe he'll ever forgive me, but I'm willing to take the chance and talk to Mel because she's a lawyer and she's bound by confidentiality. Other than that, it's nobody's business, so please … as my friend, respect what I'm saying and keep that famous Novotny lip buttoned. Because if I hear one breath about this from any of the family, I'll never forgive you."

He blinked a couple of times, his eyes round and hurt. "Okay," he agreed shakily. "I think you've made yourself pretty clear." He dropped his head and I realised with a pang of regret that things would probably never be quite the same between us again. "So what makes you think Mel would help you? She still blames you for not talking Lindsay out of marrying that French asshole."

"Among a million other things," I sighed. It was true. She'd even accused me of originally scuppering their relationship by refusing to father their child, thereby ensuring Lindsay would keep obsessing over me and conveniently forgetting that she'd been the one most set against the idea in the first place. "I'm hoping to convince her. After all, it's not me she'd be helping."

"Good luck with persuading her about that," he replied sourly, but he was already fumbling for his cell. He scrolled through to his contacts, still avoiding my gaze, and passed it over. "Here. It's your funeral, I guess."

"Yeah, it is." I keyed Mel's number into my own cell and handed Mikey's back to him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he mumbled, stuffing his cell back into his pocket and standing up. "Well, I guess I'll let you get on with it. I've got a date with a yoghurt. 'Bye, Brian." He began to walk towards the door, his head still down, his shoulders slumped.

I got to my feet and went after him. "Hey, Mikey…"

He didn't turn around but he stopped walking and let me come up to him. I put my arms around him and hugged him tight.

"Love you, Mikey. Always have, always will."

It was true. It just wasn't the way he wanted.

TBC