I know, I know. I've been jumping all over the place, beginning, end, middle...but hey, I never claimed to be a natural storyteller. I get distracted. So...where was I?

Right. Justin wanted to go to prom. I did not.

He and Mikey decided they would go without me. I decided that was not fucking happening. I'd do whatever it took to keep Mikey away. Then Justin would (I thought) beg me to take his place.

Meanwhile, Justin and I got into a game of chicken: how much pain could we cause each other, me with tricks and him with Mikey. I lost. Or as I like to phrase it...I opted out. Took the, uh, high road. I bought a ticket and told Justin I wanted to go to prom.

I guess I should pause here. Try to explain why I would purposely hurt Justin. Motivation is important, right? Truth is, I don't really know. All I do know is that I did shit like that a lot. (The past tense might not be accurate. I guess, we'll see.) So, yeah, I would do something I knew Justin wouldn't like, wouldn't understand, and I'd lose myself in it. I'd think, yes, this is you. This is where you belong. I'd hate myself. Disgust myself. And that hate and disgust made me feel kind of good (like at the end of an acid trip-you're still sort of flying but all that strychnine is fucking with your system, making you feel raw everywhere and like you want to puke). I guess, I've always been self-destructive. Always kind of craving oblivion. The tricks this time around...were no different from the binge drinking and the self-mutilation (I may tell you about that later if the mood strikes) when I was still at Jack's. Doing it, I felt I was diving down to the bottom of something. Drowning. Letting go. No words. No expectations. No pressure. No bullshit. Just my actual nature. And truth. I doubt any of this makes sense. Unless you've been there it's hard to really get it.

But then I got scared. Justin stopped talking to me. Avoided me. Part of me wanted to keep pushing. See if he would leave. Maybe make him leave. But halfway in (my downward spiral), I decided truth was overrated. Suddenly, I was terrified. A scared little faggot. I hadn't been that scared since...I don't know...since I was 9. That was when Jack broke my collarbone. I'd heard a sickening crack. Then there was blood, so much blood. Mercifully, my brain shut down at that point. Everything went black. I didn't even really feel the pain at the time. Shock is a beautiful thing. I learned I could just "go away," go numb. I'd feel the pain, but later. The worst had happened. And I survived. What could frighten me after that? But … losing Justin. That wasn't so easily blotted out. Jack's voice was always in my head telling me I was garbage and Justin would eventually realize that, eventually leave. But there was another voice. Soft. Barely a whisper. In my darkest moments, that voice whispered, "Maybe not." Everything in my life that was good came about in some way because of Justin. He was my anchor. My counterpoint. Every time I came close to dissolution, true self-destruction, that little voice pulled me back.

So, yeah. I looked at Justin and saw myself. I looked in the mirror and saw Jack. That was all the reality check I needed. I admitted defeat (but only inside my head) and bought a ticket.

That still left me with Mikey. I wasn't eager to watch Justin with him, to watch Mikey drooling and pawing at Justin. And...I couldn't take the chance, slim as it was, that the tux and the atmosphere would shift things...make Justin see Mikey in a different light, a romantic light. I'd fucked myself on the invitation. I'd managed not only to not get what I wanted but also to push Justin closer to Mikey. I wasn't about to make the same mistake with the actual prom. No fucking way. If Justin wanted to go through with this farce, I, not Mikey, would be co-starring. I had no hope of anything except being Justin's best friend, the person he wanted with him for everything, but I wasn't about to lose that.

Hijinks ensued.

Scheme 1: Photoshopping the principal's face onto a picture I got off a gay porn site and emailing it from Mikey's email account to everyone in school (and the school board).

My execution was masterful. I was determined not to leave any exonerating evidence, so, one evening while he and Justin were on the phone, I snuck into his house. He was alone (and upstairs on the cordless). I sat down at his computer (in the living room). I was wearing gloves of course (the devil's in the details). I figured someone would look at his history, so I tried to make it believable. I surfed the Internet a bit first, browsing comic books on ebay (and even bidding on one he'd been yammering on about for the last week) and did a google image search for Doctor Strange and Superman, two of his favorite characters, before finally visiting the porn site. I visited the school's Web site and did the photoshopping and email sending right there. I had to hide a couple of times, crouching behind a lazyboy (He came down twice for ho hos. Two trips, seriously?) Then I was outta there. It was perfect! The principal, even if he took pity on Mikey or felt pressure from Deb, would have to at least give him detention. That would nix the prom, for him anyway. All disciplinary referrals meant two weeks probation (no after-school activities allowed).

I walked in the door to find Justin lying on the couch giggling uncontrollably. When he heard the door, he poked his head up and then actually vaulted over the back of the couch. He yanked me over to the computer. "Oh my God Brian! Look! Principal Weber is gay! And kinky. How did he get such a hot guy? Think he paid for it? Of course he did...have you seen that potbelly?"

I just smiled. So far, so good. Justin and I were already back to normal. I knew this because he had his hands on my waist and was leaning on my back as we looked at the picture. (He was looking through the gap between my arm and my torso.)

Justin scrunched his nose. "Yuck! Look at all that wiry black hair. He must have had to pay a lot!"

I shrugged. "Some people like bears."

A puzzled expression was all the response I got.

"You know...heavy, hairy...like a bear."

"Yuck!"

"You'll be glad soon...all that bacon takes a toll." I lifted up his shirt. "Tsk, tsk." Then I started pinching his waist...his stomach. Justin is very ticklish. He started laughing. I continued the onslaught, chasing him around the living room, until he was lying across my lap breathless and red in the face.

The next day, Mikey got called to the principal's office. Both Deb and the principal were PISSED OFF. Mikey cried, literally cried. That saved him from a 3-day suspension. But he did get two weeks' detention.

As I said...masterful execution.

Or so I thought. I hadn't pondered all contingencies. I should have known Justin would feel bad for him. Bad enough to decide that if Mikey couldn't go to the prom, we should keep him company instead...have a Superman MARATHON.

"Brian, we have to. We're his best friends. He was framed! You should have seen him earlier. He looked so sad."

I would still have pushed Justin to go, but Mikey's constant "someone-ran-over-my-puppy" expression made Justin extra caring. He kept giving him long lingering hugs and rubbing his leg.

I couldn't even watch.

Talk about backfiring. So...I had to undo all my work. I dropped a hint...that maybe someone hacked Mikey's account targeting Mikey because he was not just gay but obviously so. That's all she needed. She threatened to sue, and Mikey's detention was magically lifted.

Scheme 2: Rubbing poison ivy on the inside of all the clothes in Mikey's dresser. And yes, all of them. ALL of them.

Once prom was back on, Justin decided we should have a Superman marathon to CELEBRATE his now being able to go. Talk about damned if you do, damned if you don't. (At this suggestion, Mikey jumped and clapped his hands, while I turned away, muttered, "Fucking Christ," and then repaired to the patch of woods behind his house on the hunt for my salvation. I told them I was going to get us pizza-which I also did, but not until I'd collected every three-pronged leaf I saw.)

Then while they were busily wolfing down pizza, I "went to the bathroom." I cringed a little when opened Mikey's underwear drawer, but I was wearing gloves and determined. It wasn't all bad. I laughed out loud when I saw his "man of steel" underwear (actually printed across the front) with a big red S on the back. And I was pretty amused imagining him covered in red blotches and rubbing up against tree bark to get relief from the itching.

Again...flawless execution.

Four days before the prom, his entire body was covered in red splotches. The itching was so intense, Deb kept him home from school.

But then I got bit in the ass once again. Justin wanted to visit every day after school and even offered to help him apply calamine lotion to hard to reach places (e.g., his shoulders and back). Mikey's eyes widened and he got this big goofy grin on his face. A couple soft touches had Mikey moaning deeply.

I sighed and offered myself as a replacement.

"Here let me do it. You're allergic to everything. If you touch him any more, you'll probably swell up, like that time you ate shrimp exported from Brazil."

Mikey frowned, but Justin nodded solemnly. "Oh yeah...I better be careful. I don't want to end up back in the ER."

And then I had to do it. Mikey rewarded me with the occasional soft moan. Yay me! Not.

And THEN the little fucker decides he's gonna man up and go anyway. WTF?

Yup. Epic fail.

Scheme 3: Paying a hustler to pose as a new student and invite Mikey to the prom, on the DL of course.

I was frustrated. Understatement of the century. My schemes had failed not because of anything I'd done. As mentioned, my execution both times was fucking flawless. It was Justin. He was the wildcard. Although, of course, not really. I had made a mistake, a fatal one. I hadn't bothered to think about how Justin might react. Any twat could have predicted that Justin would be sympathetic and kind, sacrificing his own happiness to make a friend happy. This time, I would try to anticipate his reaction. That's why, when I approached Brandon, I went against all my instincts.

Brandon had not yet ascended to high-class "escort," so, two days before the prom, I went looking for him at the park, at his favorite lamppost.

Brandon looked genuinely astonished at my approach. "Hey, man. You slumming?"

"Nah. I need a favor."

"Name it."

"Uh…"

Brandon gaped. "That's a first. Brian Fucking Kinney at a loss for words. Must be a helluva favor."

I inclined my head and swallowed hard. This wasn't that big of a deal except for the why and that, that Brandon would easily discern. Perceptive fuck. That's what made him so successful as a hustler. That and his open-mindedness. He could always ferret out the johns' deepest desires and then fulfilled them without judgment. "Could you hook me up with a hustler … maybe someone new … someone no one has really met yet?"

"And by 'no one' you mean …?"

"Justin. Mikey."

"What in the hell kind of party you throwing?"

I laughed. "Not what you think."

Brandon smirked. "It's pretty much always what I think."

"Anyway, you know anyone like that?"

Brandon shrugged. "I might. Any other uh preferences?"

"Our age. Not too hot."

Brandon raised an eyebrow. "That's a first."

This was my anticipating Justin's reaction. He would be suspicious if a totally hot new guy just happened to be gay and interested in Mikey. But an okay guy … that he should believe. I rubbed my forehead. "So … uh."

"Yeah, yeah, I can hook you up. This got anything to do with your impending social event?"

I sighed. Brandon didn't even go to our school. Debbie sure had a big mouth. "I need someone to pretend to go to our school and ask Mikey to go to prom, you know, as quote-unquote friends. And then actually go with him."

"That's big. It's gonna cost."

"I figured."

"All this to distract Mikey? You can't seriously think Justin's into him ..."

I shot him one of my patented blank stares. Brandon knew better than to pursue that line of questioning.

"Okay. So Tom is brand-spanking new. Right off the bus from Iowa or some shit. He's a 6, maybe a 7."

"Perfect."

"You want me to fill him in on the details?"

I nodded.

"Aight. Let's say $200. And a $50 finder's fee. And of course, you'll have to rent him a tux. I doubt he packed one."

I sighed. "I guess Justin and I will be eating at Deb's for a while." I emptied my wallet and handed him the cash. It was a good thing I'd just gotten paid.

"Later."

I walked back to the apartment much more relaxed. Mikey would be so enthralled that Justin would be completely off his radar. Then all I needed to do was give Justin the kind of night he was hoping for, without outing us or sending us into awkward territory. No big, right?

Right.

The next day, during lunch, some guy approached Mikey as he was headed to our table. He steered Mikey toward a different one and then went about subtly flirting. Furtively touching his hand. Sitting close. Leaning into him. Laughing and smiling. And it fucking worked. Mikey was so knocked back that he didn't even eat. And he had a shit-eating grin when Tom departed. And once he was gone, Mikey immediately ran over to us to share the big news.

"Oh my God. Oh my God! That's the new kid. I didn't even realize anyone had just transferred. Anyway, I guess he's in my English class. I can't believe I didn't notice him. Anyway. Anyway, he saw the posters about the prom … and it's kind of late for him to find a date, so he asked if I had one..and when I said I didn't, he asked if I'd mind going with him as a friend." Only then did Mikey breathe.

Justin was surprised, and, more than that, he seemed really hurt that Mikey had said he wasn't going with anyone already. I felt a twinge at that. After everything Justin had done to make sure Mikey could go and with us … Still he seemed genuinely happy for him. At that, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I mean, "I knew" he couldn't possibly be into Mikey, but maybe I thought he was heading in that direction. He was really sweet to him, and, just a couple of weeks ago, Justin was constantly all over him. For whatever reason.

I was actually starting to get excited. Well Brian excited. Not Justin excited. I even got Justin a white rose for his lapel. Don't read anything into that. All the guys would be wearing one. I just figured Justin might not have realized that. I was just helping a bro out. Yeah. I got myself a red one.

The next evening, Justin and I were at the apartment getting ready. Justin was standing in front of me, two or three inches away, adjusting my bow tie. He was always more dextrous with that shit. I guess because he's an artist. His hair had been getting longer, so, when he was done adjusting my tie, I offered to help him with it.

"You want me to give you a 'freshly fucked' look?"

It never occurred to me that Justin would misunderstand. It should have. I mean, ever since my gym teacher popped my cherry, I'd taken to embarrassing him on purpose, just to see him blush. This time, it was purely accidental, but nonetheless hot. His face turned crimson..not pink. Red red. Even more interesting, his eyes grew to the size of saucers, and he took a step back. I enjoyed his discomfort (and his ragged breathing) for a minute or two before I explained, "Your hair, dumbass."

Justin laughed and started breathing normally again. He actually had to hold onto the sink for a minute before he trusted himself to stand up on his own two feet. I couldn't tell whether he really wanted me or really didn't want me.

Now it was my turn to get up close and personal with him. I wet my hands and ran my fingers through his hair. I would rather not admit how much I enjoyed that. I did that a few times and then repeated the process, but this time with gel. Justin was rigid (his posture, that is) the whole time. At one point, I took a finger and lifted his chin (I, of course, had to check out his hair from all angles), and I think, I think, I heard him draw his breath in sharply. I smiled softly and tried to meet his eyes. Justin was looking everywhere else.

On our way downstairs, I threw an arm around his shoulder. While we rode down the elevator, Justin leaned his head against my neck. He even closed his eyes. But I removed my arm once we were outside. I kept telling myself … Must maintain boundaries. I couldn't risk a repeat of Christmas.

Mikey had told us that he'd meet us at school (which had pleased me but disappointed Justin), and he did, but he did little more than introduce us and snap a few pictures with us before vanishing into a corner with Tom.

Justin and I had fun playing straight. It was kind of a game…find a girl, dance with her, and then ditch her. You won by shaking her off the fastest or in the most interesting way. I thought I was clever with the punch comment ("Do you want some punch?" "Sure!" "Punch bowl's over there."), but Justin got truly creative ("So your last name is Evans?" "Mmm hmmm." "You said your family was from Philly?" "Yeah, why?" "Oh my God! I think we're related. My mom's maiden name is Evans, and she's from Philly, too!"-She wasn't. The girl ran like she was trapped in a fire.)

I think we had the most fun when they played Hollaback Girl (Gwen Stefani) and then later when they played 99 Problems (don't know how they got that past the censors). Especially 99 Problems (Jay Z). Justin kept bobbing his head (sort of nodding) with his arms crossed, trying to look all tough. Then he held out his arm and swept it slowly to the right, still bobbing his head. It took all my control not to burst out laughing. We were dancing with other people, but I don't think we looked at our partners even once.

Towards the end, half our class had left, doubtless to after parties in hotel rooms. The DJ was playing all slow songs, and someone had turned the lights down low. Most of our classmates were in semi-permanent couplings, so finding partners, especially partners we hadn't already offended, was nearly impossible. Even Mikey was taking prom to the next level. Tom french kissed him, right in front of everyone, and then led him out of the gym, their fingers intertwined.

Justin had grown quiet, and his eyes had lost focus. He looked sad.

So I resolved to do what I'd been trying to avoid all night (asking him to dance). But first we got high.

When we got back to the dance floor, I held out my hand. The DJ was playing Run (Snow Patrol).

Justin was perplexed.

I prodded, "Justin Taylor, may I have this dance?"

He swallowed hard and look around nervously. "Here?"

"You ashamed to be seen with me?"

"No! No, I just, um…"

I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the middle of the dance floor. I even spun him around and then pulled him into my arms. Justin laughed, but stopped suddenly when I started sliding my hands around his waist. I'll admit I had to take a couple of deep breaths to regulate my breathing.

Gary Lightbody crooned, "I can barely look at you but every single time I do I know we'll make it anywhere away from here."

I don't know if it was the pot, the music, the near darkness, Justin's body being pressed up against mine, or all of the above, but I started thinking the DJ had morphed into Brandon or some shit. Every song seemed to be talking directly to me and about us.

During Sway (The Perishers), I held Justin a little closer, leaned my head against his, and shut my eyes. I really didn't want him looking at me for this one.

"It was you who picked the pieces up when I was a broken soul and then glued me back together returned to me what others stole."

And then when the DJ played Speed of Sound (Coldplay), I felt sure he was taunting me.

"How long before I get in? Before it starts, before I begin? How long before you decide? Before I know what it feels like? If you never try, then you'll never know...The sign that I couldn't read or a light that I couldn't see. Some things you have to believe, but others are puzzles, puzzling me."

The last song, Far Away (Nickelback), nearly did me in.

"I love you. I have loved you all along. And I miss you. Been far away for far too long. I keep dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go. Stop breathing if I don't see you anymore."

What made it worse was that right at the end, someone shut the lights off (for a full minute) before turning them all back on (so that the gym was as bright as it was when we arrived).

What made it even worse was that Justin chose that moment to slide his fingers into my hair and look up at me. I know because I felt his lips gently brush against mine before he buried his face in my neck. Fucking pot. I think I moaned softly.

Justin smiled brightly the whole way home. I took a long shower before bed.