"broken pieces, break into me
showing perfectly what you should be"

January 2005
**Justin**

"He's not coming, is he," Justin stared at the faces of his friends, his family, and saw pity and anger and love in their expressions. But it didn't matter, because Justin knew in that moment that he wouldn't see Brian again.

He didn't understand why. That was the worst part of all of it.

His excitement leading up to the premier and everyone's arrival had been palpable. His entire body like one big nerve ending – sending him into sensory overload with all the sights and sounds and smells around him. It felt like he'd only just arrived and was seeing it all for the first time; the city lights of Los Angeles were brighter, the traffic noisier, the air crisper. Everything excited him – but primarily it was the thought of seeing Brian again.

It had been a long several months (well, seven months really!) – pre-production, then production, then post-production. He was only supposed to be in LA for two or three months, but that had slowly stretched on, seemingly endlessly but Justin didn't really notice. He was working, and drawing, and making art that he was fucking proud of! He didn't think to take Brian's long stretches of silence, or his muted (and obviously false) excitement over Justin's opportunity as anything more serious than a man simply missing his favorite ass. Not that Justin saw himself that way – and he knew Brian was getting whatever sexual relief he needed from the denizens of Liberty Avenue. There was no shortage of men who'd gladly bend over for Brian Kinney.

Still. Justin should have paid more attention. Maybe things would have gone differently…

Much of Brian's behavior during the months Justin was in LA should have clued him in to the fact that something was not quite right. But Justin was so far "in it" he couldn't see, and none of his friends in Pittsburgh bothered to warn him either. Though maybe they hadn't seen it, either.

"I'm sorry honey," his mother was there, arms around him, hugging him to her chest. Justin could just see over her shoulder and his heart broke when he saw a tear slip from Daphne's eye and travel slowly down her cheek.

Brian wasn't coming. Ever. Like a coward he'd taken the easy way out, and simply decided for them both how it was going to be. Like he always did.

Everyone was staying at the same hotel, a few blocks from Justin's apartment (Brett had gently asked him to move out of the guest house after four months…) and later, after everyone had wordlessly gone their separate ways to settle in and recover from the long flight, Justin had slowly walked home.

He knew what was going on, he got it, but it still hadn't sunk in and he still didn't get why.

This was the biggest thing Justin might ever do – the greatest accomplishment he'd achieved thus far – and the one person he most wanted to share it with hadn't even bothered to come; hadn't bothered to call, or write, or tell anyone anything. Everyone had been shocked and angry when Brian never showed up to the airport. Hell, he'd even paid for the flights for many of them.

But Justin knew. And though he was numb to it at the moment he also knew, later, after everyone had gone back home to Pennsylvania and he had no more distractions, that he'd feel it. It would come fast, and without warning, and he wondered if it might kill him. The pain.

No one else in his life could inflict as much pain on him as Brian could. Justin knew that from experience. Too much experience.

But it had never entered his mind that Brian wouldn't come. Justin had never, in a million years, thought it would end this way.

The night of the premiere saw everyone excited, even with the damper that Brian's absence had put on the entire trip. Still, Daphne's infectious grinning while they walked the red carpet, her squeals of delight at seeing a pretty impressive roster of who's who in Hollywood, all lifted Justin's spirits, even if it was only for a few hours.

Later at the after-party it hit him, hard and without warning. He'd gone to the restroom and upon pulling open the door he saw Michael wrapped in Ben's arms and openly weeping, muttering over and over something about "how could he do this to me. We're best friends".

Justin stood there for a minute or so, staring at the scene before him and trying to control the anger and pitiful loathing he felt for Michael in that moment. He wanted to rush in and scream into Michael's face that he wasn't the only one Brian hurt. That he didn't have the monopoly on the pain of his brutal dismissal and his cruel avoidance of their repeated unanswered calls and unanswered messages.

But he didn't. He simply backed out of the restroom and sought solace in the open bar. He wasn't sure exactly how he got home that night, but seeing Daphne asleep on his sofa the next morning, still in her dress from the premiere, gave him a pretty good idea.

The days following the premiere, the group of people Justin considered his friends and family took to the streets of Los Angeles to do some sight-seeing. Justin was supposed to play tour guide, but he had neither the energy nor the interest to "pretend" with them. Not when he could see the looks and hear the whispers. Not when he knew they all felt sorry for him. And as much as he appreciated their support, he couldn't handle the pity.

He didn't want to listen to Melanie rage against Brian, calling him out for every damned thing he'd ever done to her; he didn't want to see Emmett's mournful stares and hear his sniffles or see his tears; he didn't want to watch Michael milk the group for attention with his victimization. Justin simply wanted them all to go away.

Then, on the third day, the day before everyone left to go back to their own lives, Lindsay showed up at his place. She was alone, for which Justin was thankful. He thought Lindsay, and maybe his mother, and of course Daphne, were the only people he had any tolerance for anymore.

"I talked to him," Lindsay said as soon as she was inside and had slipped off her coat.

"And?" Daphne stood next to Justin, her hands on her hips and her jaw set. Justin would have laughed if he didn't feel like his entire existence was hinging on what Lindsay said next.

"And nothing," Lindsay shook her head and stared at Justin with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen on her face. "He didn't say a single word to me. He had nothing to say, which is how I know that he hates himself for what he did. He's miserable, and probably beating himself up."

"Are you kidding me? Are you actually feeling sorry for him after what he did?" Daphne crossed her arms.

"Stop it, Daph," Justin sighed, looking at Lindsay and realizing that no matter how much she helped him, or tried to support him in his art, she would always be Brian's friend first and foremost and suddenly he wasn't just losing the man he'd loved for years, but the surrogate family that had taken him in when no one else would. Because they'd all been Brian's friends first, and they'd all choose him. Everyone always chose him.

"Thanks for letting me know," Justin smiled stiffly, suddenly feeling the loss of an entire family, not just the man he'd loved so completely for four years of his life.

"Brian was wrong not to come," Lindsay said then, looking between Justin and Daphne, "he was wrong to do what he did and I want you to know that I don't think I can forgive him for this. For hurting you like this."

"You don't have to say that," Justin said quietly, feeling Daphne's hand land on his back and start to rub small circles. Justin appreciated Lindsay's words, but he wasn't sure he believed them. Brian had a strange, magnetic hold over her, like with Michael, and Justin wasn't sure even this was terrible enough behavior to force Lindsay from his life. Not that she could be forced from his life, she was still the mother of Brian's son.

"Justin," she moved closer, setting her hands on Justin's shoulders, "I'm on your side here. Just because I think Brian might be sorry, or regret what he did doesn't mean I'm going to forgive him for it. Or let him reassume whatever old patterns of behavior he had in the past. Not with me. I'm just so shocked, and hurt on your behalf. I don't want to believe he's this cruel. But I suppose I know he is. We all know he is. No matter how much we wish he'd change."

Justin forced a smile, but he was still unsure. It would remain to be seen how close these people, who had been Brian's friends first, would remain with Justin going forward.

"I just wanted you to know. I just…I'm sorry," Lindsay pulled him to her then, and Justin accepted her embrace, willing himself to maintain composure. He didn't want to shed a single tear in front of anyone. He wouldn't be weak, and he wouldn't break.

"Thank you," Justin mumbled into her shoulder before she let him go.

"Now, Mel and I are taking Gus and JR to Disneyland. Then we're back to Pittsburgh first thing in the morning so I'm not sure when I'll see you again," Lindsay looked at Justin and he thought he saw a hopeful expectation in her expression.

"I'm staying here," Justin said solemnly while feeling a white-hot rage boiling in his gut, "at least for a while."

"Good," she gave him a small smile while pulling on her jacket, "I mean, I think it's good you're living your own life."

Justin nodded and with one more quick hug, Lindsay was suddenly gone and Justin was alone with his one true friend once more.

"What the fuck, Justin," Daphne was staring at the closed door Lindsay had just departed through. "Does everyone wear rose-colored glasses when it comes to that asshole?"

Justin gave a shrill laugh, finding that statement ironic, "You used to be one of them," he lightly punched her shoulder before collapsing on his sofa. He felt unsteady, unsure, and so very angry.

"Yeah, well, I can only stand to see him hurt you so many times before I start to think you're better off without him," she plopped down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Justin clenched his jaw, swallowing the rage that was threatening to burst forth and take him to a place he didn't want to go, a place he hadn't been in a very long time.

"I love you, Daph," Justin finally sighed, leaning his head on hers and taking her hand, using it as a lifeline. They remained like that for a long time, sitting together each lost to their own thoughts, the only sound being the traffic of West Hollywood rolling by outside, unaware of the emotional turmoil and pain one young man felt.

Justin's mother and Daphne stayed in LA a few more days after everyone else had gone back to Pittsburgh. Justin saw they were concerned. No one had been able to reach Brian again after Lindsay had, but Justin thought maybe everyone might have stopped trying.

Justin was desperate for him though, and as angry as he was he still just needed to know. So he kept trying to call – yet each time the voicemail answered instead of the man, the rage inside Justin would grow a little larger. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it under control.

When Daphne and his mom left and he was once again alone, he allowed himself to feel the rage. He threw things, and broke things, and very nearly shredded the one and only photo he had of he and Brian – but his rational mind took over just long enough to make him doubt if he really wanted to do that. Instead he shoved it in the back of his freezer – but that didn't help remove the man from occupying every thought Justin had.

It was a few days later that Justin came to a terrifying realization…one that occupied every waking hour of his life. He was unable to eat, his sleep was restless and full of strange dreams that weren't quite nightmares, and his chest broke out in hives from the worry and stress of this one, awful thought. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer and he called his mother, begging her to check on Brian – to just make sure he was okay. That he wasn't sick again.

It made sense to Justin – that if the cancer had come back of course Brian would push him away and what better way to do that then when he's out of the state, and across the fucking country.

He didn't want it to be true, for Brian's sake, but he also secretly hoped it was true because at least that was something he could fight against. That was something he could handle – a real reason for Brian's behavior. What would be worse was finding out there was nothing wrong with him, and Brian simply didn't care enough to come.

…which is what his mother essentially told him when she called a few days later. She told him Brian had insisted he was fine. Not sick at all.

Justin hung up the phone feeling completely worthless and hating every damn thing in the world, including Brian and himself.

He stopped trying to call Brian after that.

For the next several months Justin was in a state of limbo; sometimes he felt okay, like he was getting over it but then something would happen to send him right back to the beginning and he thought he might die from the roller coaster ride of emotions he felt powerless to control. He wasn't working on anything new, and had too much time on his hands yet no motivation to do anything; or when he did have motivation it was so manic in its presentation that he couldn't rein it in enough to do anything about it.

He was living off his savings, much of it from the boosted sales of Rage the comic, as well as some residuals from the movie. He wasn't sure he could have held down a job even if one was to present itself. And it was a good thing he and Michael had come up with the next several issues of Rage months earlier – they had enough of them in the bag to publish once a month for the next year before they would run out of stories to tell and Justin wasn't really all that sure he could continue once they had to. He found thinking of Brian and Rage sucked all the creativity out of him. He wasn't sure he could ever do the comic again. But he and Michael talked about it – they commiserated together, and took solace in each other's anger and pain about Brian. It was surprising to Justin that Michael would want to talk to him at all, but Justin gave Michael the attention he needed, and shockingly, Michael gave Justin validation in his anger as well. They briefly discussed what they might do when they needed to start up with Rage again, but decided to table the discussion for a while until they were both a little less angry. Justin wondered to himself if he'd ever feel less angry again.

He talked to Daphne too, but not as often once her semester started back up – she was incredibly busy finishing her pre-Med curriculum and couldn't be Justin's shoulder to cry on as much as she'd used to be. So Justin had to seek out comfort from other people, including Lindsay, and Emmett.

They were consolatory, but Justin found himself comforting Emmett most of the time, or wondering about Lindsay's true feelings. He couldn't be mad at her, or upset that she still saw Brian – he was Gus's father after all. But Justin also knew that eventually they'd make up and Lindsay would be less of a shoulder to lean on when that happened, and so he slowly phased out using Lindsay as a means of therapy. But even with the people he did talk to, Brian continued to consume him.

Six months after the premiere and Justin still wasn't free of him. There had been talk of a Rage movie sequel, and Justin had been contacted by Brett Keller to work on it. He didn't say no, though he seriously doubted his abilities to keep a professional tone. It turned out not to have mattered – though they'd had several pre-production meetings and though they'd gotten through two drafts of a script, the studio ultimately decided to put Rage out of its misery and pulled the plug. Justin only wished they'd done so with the first movie – then he wouldn't be in this mess.

Summer ended and Justin had nothing to show for it. No job (still), no new friends (still), not even a fucking tan…He'd spent the entire year, since the premiere, wallowing and miserable and even though he hated it he didn't know how to stop. It had become a part of him and he hated Brian for making him feel so worthless and less than human.

Daphne, his mother, Emmett, Deb, all of them insisted he needed to get out – to start living his life again. Justin denied to them that wasn't doing just that, though he knew they knew he was lying. Still – they couldn't understand, they didn't understand. They were across the country, living their lives and moving on while Justin was stuck in a place he still didn't know, surrounded by people who only cared about themselves, and missing everything his life had been in Pittsburgh and wasn't in Los Angeles. He and Brian might not have been happy all the time, or an ideal couple, but they had worked; at least Justin thought they'd worked. Had it all been a ruse?

The Friday before Labor Day weekend, Justin was out picking up some groceries when he saw a flyer for a drag show at Lei'd, the local dance club he frequented on occasion. Deciding it was time he tried to get back to his own life, Justin made plans to attend that night and when he did, he found himself back in the bed of one Connor James.

It was the perfect scenario, and Justin used Connor quite effectively to push away any thoughts of Brian and all the associated emotions. They were together every night, usually at Connor's place. Justin let him do anything he wanted, and he welcomed the feel of him because he wasn't like Brian.

Connor knew it was nothing more than physical – and he never tried to kiss Justin or cuddle with him afterwards and at first Justin appreciated that. But as the months stretched on and the sex became slightly boring and predictable, Justin started to want more. He wanted to be kissed, and caressed, and held afterwards because the last person who had done those things to him was Brian, and Justin was determined to erase those sense memories from his mind.

Connor was reluctant at first – the first time Justin went in for a kiss he actually asked him what he was doing. But when Justin assured him it wasn't about love, or feelings, Connor reluctantly gave in. But it didn't work. Kissing Connor, like fucking him, was just different than kissing (or fucking) Brian. It didn't replace the memories Justin wanted gone, it only made Justin realize how much he missed kissing (and fucking) Brian.

As December ended (and Justin spent Christmas in Los Angeles, much to his mother's utter dismay, and though she tried to tell him Brian wasn't around Justin refused to listen, having long since stopped asking for any information about him – he simply didn't want to know) and January began (another new year) so came the "anniversary" of the premiere and a resurgence of Justin's heartache.

He couldn't believe it had been one year. It felt like no time had passed at all, yet also like it had been decades. Justin felt no better or worse than he had the first moment he'd realized Brian wasn't coming.

Added to that, things with Connor were no longer working the way Justin had wanted and hoped. Things between them had become so predictable and "normal" that it felt like they were in a relationship. Only it was a relationship where they never went out, or talked about anything other than Connor's auditions and the latest trade news and most importantly, where neither man cared for the other any more than just as a friend.

Justin was drinking more than he should, and taking whatever drugs Connor would bring home from the various parties he'd attend, and ignoring anything in his life that might resemble "real" or "emotion". By the end of February Justin was done with Connor James and once again lost in a sea of strangers who didn't give a shit about him.

He was also down to his last little bit of money, having taken the odd art job here and there, and though he and Michael were writing new issues of Rage, it had lost the magic and sales were noticeably slipping. Justin knew it wouldn't be long before the comic would come to a painful end. He and Michael were both extremely disenchanted and done with any sort of hero worship of Brian Kinney. Justin knew they couldn't sustain the comic with the pain they both still felt. But they did their best – and Justin promised himself he'd continue to draw for as long as he and Michael thought it was worth the trouble of doing the comic.

But Justin was bored, and lonely, and miserable with his life. His mother had a new man (more age appropriate this time) that adored her and Molly, Daphne had started Medical School in New York and was out at the clubs every weekend, Lindsay had Gus in Vermont and was teaching art, Emmett's catering business was booming, Deb and Carl were planning a trip around the world courtesy of the Pennsylvania State Lottery, Melanie was in Baltimore with JR and last Justin had heard dating someone, Ted and Blake were going strong and happy, and even though Prop 14 had passed and the legality of Hunter's adoption was unclear, Michael and Ben were as happy as ever, too.

Justin had nothing to show for the last year except a damaged, blackened, and broken heart that, try as he might, he was unable to heal even just a little bit.

About a week later Justin got an email from one of the head of art direction from Rage, asking if he'd like to come in and do some work on a film. Justin jumped at the opportunity, ready to get out of his place and try to figure out how to move on with his life. A new job with new people could be just the thing he needed.

It was a good job; lasted for two months and gave Justin another cushion of money so he didn't need to rush out and find something else right away – but he did realize, as he worked with the other artists and designers, that he liked doing what he was doing, and he decided to try and pursue a more permanent career in art design for film and television.

He also made a few friends on his new job – people he could go out with, and chat with, and forget for just a little bit how dead he felt inside from Brian's blatant disregard for him.

So he lived his life, day to day getting by – sometimes forgetting for a little bit, but always remembering in the end. He tried to keep up with Daphne's sexual antics – apparently the only way to survive medical school is to have a lot of promiscuous sex – while attempting to maintain any sort of interest in the lives of his other friends from Pittsburgh; but really, talking to any of them simply reminded him of what he'd had and lost. So he slowly began to phase them all out of his life. Ted and Melanie were the first to go and it wasn't too difficult. Emmett was so busy that Justin was able to disconnect that lifeline as well without too many problems. Lindsay let go pretty easily too – though Justin would get random emails from her (a few a year) with news about Gus. Deb was harder to cut off, but when Rage finally did die a painful death and Justin and Michael collectively decided they would dissolve their business relationship Justin knew he could probably get rid of Debbie too. Not that she, or any of them, would be completely gone from his life. Deb and his mother were still very close. But he couldn't maintain those relationships anymore. All they did was remind him of when he'd been happy, and secure, and had known himself.

Anymore he didn't know himself. So many things had changed, and so fast, that Justin still felt like he was playing catchup. Even three years later he couldn't go a full week without having a breakdown triggered by one thing or another. He was constantly questioning everything in his life – and he traced the root of it back to Brian. Brian had never offered Justin one single thing that was steady and reliable, and for that he'd ruined him.

The only solace Justin found was in numbing the pain. And when his emotions were running high and he felt himself slipping down the slope into despair, he'd head out – not really cognizant that he was using Brian's methods of pain management – he'd go out and drink himself stupid, and let whoever showed any interest take him into a back room, or a bathroom, or even a damn alleyway. Justin knew it wasn't healthy, or safe, but he also didn't know what else he could do. He was stuck in a place he hated, and all he had within his control was his own behavior – and even if it was destructive it was his to own and his to do.

What he couldn't figure out was why he simply could not let the shit with Brian go. He couldn't figure out why it was looming, hanging over him relentlessly. It made him angry, and depressed, and vengeful. If he knew how to hurt Brian in return he would – but the only way to hurt Brian was to see him, and the only way to see him was to go back to Pittsburgh, and that would mean seeing everyone else, and Justin knew he had neither the emotional strength nor the willpower to do it. It was easier being across the country, but harder, too. It was easier to imagine all the awful things he could say and do to hurt Brian, but if he imagined actually saying or doing them it suddenly was terrifying and paralyzing because Justin thought he was stronger than that – he thought, after surviving the bashing and his father's wrath and the many, many times Brian had previously hurt him – he thought certainly he was strong enough and he was devastated to learn he wasn't.

As time passed and he'd been allowed the distance to look back, he wondered if he'd ever really liked Brian all that much. They'd had their moments and they'd loved each other hard, and fast and brutally at times, but Justin wasn't sure if Brian was ever his friend. There had been times, moments; after the bashing, and during Stockwell, and even right after the cancer diagnosis, when things were good and Justin had felt like an equal. But looking back, Justin could only see Brian ruling him – setting the boundaries of their relationship to his terms, forcing Justin to compromise while he didn't compromise at all. Justin had never been his equal, and that's what made Justin so mad, even still. Brian took him in, molded him into what he wanted him to be, then shoved him out the door without another thought or another glance. Like he was nothing but another toy he'd gotten sick of. Justin wondered if Brian had ever really loved him. He'd maybe cared, and maybe he'd cared a lot – but love? No. Justin didn't think that had ever existed and he was starting to think Brian might be incapable of love at all.

So Justin worked, and tried to reconcile his life and his emotions with nothing to go on. No reasons, no excuses, no anything. Nothing but guessing and unanswered questions and still he used the only form of escapism he knew to get away from his own thoughts – drinking, sometimes drugs, and lots of casual, and many times anonymous, sex. His time with Brian had been good for something, it would seem.

His body was a wreck, and he felt like crap all the time, not just emotionally but physically. He'd completely forgotten what it felt like to be happy, or healthy.

He worked, and he went out, and he'd lie through his teeth to his mother and Daphne when they'd call.

"I'm great."

"Things are going great."

"Everything is great."

"LA is the best."

If they didn't believe him, they didn't let on. What surprised Justin was the persistence of Lindsay in reaching out to him. For awhile he'd avoided her calls and he'd ignored her emails, but still she kept at him. Finally, one day just out of plain curiosity he'd answered her call. A tiny part of him, the part that wouldn't give up hoping for a happy ending with Brian, thought maybe she was trying to call him with good news. It was only after he'd answered that he had a momentary paralyzing thought that maybe something bad had happened to Gus…or Brian.

But it hadn't. They were both fine. Or at least Gus was fine, and Justin assumed Brian was fine since Lindsay didn't say anything about him. What she did do was offer Justin something of a reprieve. She read between the lines, she heard the unspoken pain and she let him own it. She didn't try to tell him he'd eventually get over it, or that it'd been four years now and he should really move on, or that he needed to go out and meet someone new. She just let him talk – and it was the first time Justin felt any kind of reprieve from the constant ache inside.

He had Daphne who wanted to help, of course, but she was so busy with her school and her boys that Justin didn't feel right laying his shit on her. And his mother was far too emotional involved (and angry at Brian) to be any help – and so Lindsay it was.

He didn't want to talk to her long, or all the time, but when he needed to be grounded, to be given permission to feel, he would call her. And she would listen and let him. And for Justin it was everything. And when Prop 14 was overturned by the Pennsylvania courts and Ted and Blake decided to marry, it was Lindsay who convinced Justin to come back. She promised him Brian would not be there – or anywhere – and Justin took a chance on that being true. He needed to see people and feel like a part of family again – even if only for a little while. It ended up hurting more than helping though, and afterwards Justin promised himself he'd never go back to Pittsburgh. There were too many memories and even if Brian hadn't been there physically, he had been there spiritually and Justin couldn't escape the feel of him. For Justin it was the longest and hardest three days he'd had since the days immediately following the premier and Brian's noted absence.

In April of 2009, when Rage the comic officially died, Justin began another desperate search for work. The profits from the comic book had been declining for the last year, and he barely made enough off the sales to cover one month's rent. Now that he and Michael were no longer producing any more books he knew he had to get more work – he had to assert himself and find something. He didn't want to run home to his mother, and he certainly didn't want to have to resort to being a go-go boy again.

Mid-month, as he was thumbing through the trades in a small café, he stumbled across a position in the art department for a period drama that was scheduled for a Christmas-time release. It was a lower position than what he'd held on Rage, and it paid less, but Justin didn't care. Amid the countless ads for PA's and being a glorified errand runner for some asshole actor or director, it was one of the few art-related gigs he could find. Granted, he didn't have experience in period-drama, but he was excellent at research and it was something new and different. He wanted that – new and different was just what he needed.

Luckily for Justin, one of the other assistants on the film knew him from Rage, and with his resume and portfolio of work he was offered the position on the spot.

Justin was incredibly thankful for the job. The hours were long but the work was interesting. He found himself honing his drawing skills and though his hand would get tired after an eight to ten hour day of drawing, there were not as many tremors as before, and he even thought he was improving in certain techniques. It was something positive he could focus on, and while working Justin easily avoided all thoughts of Brian. He even smiled and laughed – things that had been rare occurrences the last few years.

The downside was when he'd get home, to a place dark and lonely, his smiles would disappear and it was all he could do not to drink himself into a blackout.

He felt like he was living a double life. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

As the pre-production and art design for the film neared completion, Justin was approached by the art director, Ross Hastings, and offered a permanent position with his firm, and a sizeable raise to go along with it. Justin accepted on the spot, and felt a stress he hadn't realized he'd been carrying, lift. He was still weighed down with shit he'd rather toss away, but knowing he could pay his bills and buy groceries was a big relief. Justin called his mother, then Daphne, and finally Lindsay to share the news. He was happy, and light on his feet on his walk home – but the moment he stepped over the threshold of his place he felt the darkness descend, and for the rest of the night Justin wallowed in a bottle of Beam and a few pills of ecstasy.

Three weeks into the new job, Justin was finally settling into a routine. He was beginning to feel comfortable, like he might have a purpose after all. He was beginning to think maybe he wasn't as worthless as Brian had made him feel. Though he still felt infuriated that he could not get Brian-fucking-Kinney out of his fucking head. Even four years later the man still held sway, he still had a power over Justin. So he used his work as his new escape, and his use of alcohol and drugs and men lessened somewhat, and Justin became the kind of workaholic that would make a man (like Brian) proud.

One afternoon, putting some finishing touches on some sketches for a romantic comedy, Ross approached him and asked if he'd like to go on a little field trip. It would seem the film studio producing the period drama they'd just finished pre-production on was having some trouble with their designs and the director needed to meet with them. So Justin and Ross headed into Studio City to meet and appease the studio.

They arrived a little early, the traffic pretty smooth for the time of day they were driving, so Ross showed Justin around the lot, leading them straight into a live recording of an orchestra in the middle of a large, empty parking lot, a giant green screen hanging behind them. Ross and Justin hung back, watching as the musicians played and the cameras wove their way through the players. Justin didn't recognize the music, but it was soothing and pleasing. When the song had ended and the director had yelled cut, Justin watched, amused, as the musicians scattered to the four corners, disappearing into trailers. A group of them were walking towards Justin and Ross and before he could stop himself, Justin reached out and grabbed the arm of the one nearest him.

"Excuse me," he smiled at the man and his three female companions as they all stopped, "what was this all for?"

The man smiled and for the first time in years, Justin felt his heart skip a beat. The man was classically handsome and had a bright green eyes and a wide smile with two deep dimples.

"The director wanted to film us outside, for the closing credits sequence. They're gonna add some special effects. It's some alien invasion movie I think," he shrugged.

"You think?" Justin laughed, noticing the foursome were carrying violins.

"Well it's the first day, and we've only just gotten the sheet music," the man smiled again and Justin couldn't help but smile back.

"Things change fast in Hollywood," he added, "today an alien invasion, tomorrow an alien romantic comedy."

"I see," Justin laughed.

"Justin, we gotta go," Ross jumped in then, and Justin smiled apologetically to the other man.

"Well good luck," Justin said before walking away with Ross. He glanced over his shoulder to find the man staring after him, and he felt a slight thaw begin on his cold heart. He felt like a man coming back to life.

The meeting they had went well, but Justin was distracted by the mystery man with the bright eyes, great smile, and violin. He asked Ross if he could find out who he was, and Ross said he'd try. The feeling he got when he recalled the mystery man became Justin's newest addiction – he obsessed over it and the way it made him feel, namely, not worthless or lonely or pathetic. He felt a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe he'd be able to finally move on from Brian.

A few days later, feeling good from a productive day at work and anxious to tell someone about the handsome, mysterious musician he'd developed an unexpected crush on, Justin tried calling Daphne. She didn't answer, and when his mother also didn't answer Justin called the only other person he was still in contact with – Lindsay. He just needed someone to share in the joy he felt of finally taking that first step towards moving on. He needed to let someone know that for the first time in years he finally felt like he was heading in the right direction rather than standing still or worse, moving backwards.

"I met someone," Justin blurted after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

"You did? Who? Tell me everything," Lindsay's voice was soft, but excited at the same time.

"Well, I don't know his name, and we only talked for about a minute, but he made me feel…he made me…he made my heart skip a beat," Justin grinned up at his ceiling, his heart racing a little faster just recalling the brilliant smile of the mystery man.

"That's great! I'm so glad," Lindsay replied, her voice still slightly strained, like she was intentionally speaking quietly.

"I'm trying to find out who he is-," Justin started, but he paused when he heard Gus yelling in the background.

"Shit, hold on," Lindsay said, her tone taking on a concerning sound.

Justin heard muffling sounds, like she was pressing the phone against her hand. But that didn't stop him from hearing what was said on the other end of the phone line.

The words were soft, but clear, and Justin heard it all.

"What Gus, I'm on the phone."

"Dad needs you now!"

And in that split second Justin's mood plummeted and as he realized, horrifyingly, that Brian was in the same house as Lindsay – the Lindsay he had just confessed to, to meeting a new guy – he thought he might be sick. Without a word or a moment's pause he ended the call and tossed his cell phone onto the coffee table. It rang several times a few minutes later, and Justin saw Lindsay's name and number on the screen but he didn't answer. He was frozen…shocked. Though he shouldn't have been. He'd known eventually Lindsay and Brian would make up, and Brian was Gus's father…but he had been there. He was there...

Brian was there. In that house. Now.

Suddenly Justin needed to get out. He needed to get as far away from everything as he could. Leaving his phone on the table he grabbed a jacket and headed for Lei'd. He needed someone to buy him drinks, give him drugs, and fuck him senseless. He needed to feel something…anything other than this awful twisting, white-hot pain. He needed to be able to breathe again, to take a step or two forward and not have that damned man on his mind at every turn forcing him five steps back. He needed to be able to live his fucking life. He needed to smile and laugh outside of work as well as at work…he needed to reclaim his life but fuck if he even knew where to start. He'd been living being miserable for so long it had become the norm, and now he had to break that norm and create a new one – and that was as terrifying as the thought that maybe Brian had never loved him at all.

Lei'd was packed, and not five minutes after he'd walked in the door Justin had been propositioned three times. Choosing a type that was as far from the "Brian Kinney"-type he usually went for, Justin led a small, thin dark-haired and dark-skinned guy to the back room and let him suck him off while he fingered his ass. As dark-haired, dark-skinned guy finished up and turned to leave, a blonde surfer-dude type came up and without a word offered Justin a tab of ecstasy. At least Justin thought it was ecstasy. He took it wordlessly and then leaned back against the wall as blonde surfer-dude proceeded to put the blow-job Justin had just gotten to shame. Justin moaned loudly as he came, shooting into blonde surfer-dude's mouth and silently rejoicing as several of the guys around him turned to look with interest. Blonde surfer-dude tried to lead Justin out of the backroom then but a large, muscled brunet stopped him and pushed Justin back up against the wall.

"I'd like some of that," he said, licking his lips as his eyes traveled down to Justin's dick. His pubic hair was peeking out the top of his half-buttoned up pants.

"Got any 'E'?" Justin asked, the effects of the first one he'd taken not yet presenting themselves and Justin was desperate to feel anything other than the reality he was living in.

The muscled guy grinned and pulled a tiny plastic bag out of his pocket, offering it to Justin. With a smirk, Justin pulled two pills from the bag and tossed them both into his mouth. The muscled guy grinned wider and raised his eyebrows.

"So, you want to party," he growled, leaning in to bite at Justin's neck while his hands gripped Justin's wrists and he pinned him against the wall.

Justin could feel the muscled man's cock, rock hard, pressing against his stomach. From the feel of him he was huge, and suddenly Justin was a little nervous about what he'd started.

"We can go back to my place and party hard," the muscled guy breathed, biting a little too hard on Justin's ear.

"Maybe we can dance first, and get a drink?" Justin cooed, pushing against the muscled guy in an attempt to escape the backroom.

"A little public performance?" The muscled guy let go of one of Justin's wrists and stepped back, pulling Justin behind him as he led him out from the backroom to the dance floor.

The music was too loud though, and the lights too bright. Justin nearly fell as the strobes flashed in his face, temporarily blinding him.

"Whoa, can't hold your drugs?" the muscled guy was in his face, grinning too wide. His eyes were wild and they looked like they were on fire. Justin panicked.

"Let go of me!" he yelled, yanking his hand away hard. He barely got it loose, and likely he did only because the muscled guy had not been expecting it.

"Fuck you, you fucking tease!" the muscled guy yelled, his face screwing up in anger.

Justin backed away slowly, the room spinning around him uncontrollably and he immediately regretted taking three tabs of E.

"I gave you drugs, you owe me," the muscled guy reached out and grabbed Justin's wrist again, so tightly Justin felt his bones compress and his tendons shift painfully under his skin.

"Ow! Fuck off asshole! I don't owe you shit," Justin tried to pull away again, but the muscled guy was expecting it and he just squeezed tighter.

"You're hurting me," Justin panted, his chest tightening as his vision started to tunnel. The music was so loud he could feel the bass beating in his chest; the lights were so bright he could feel the heat from them causing him to break out in a sweat.

The muscled guy was staring at Justin with a look on his face that terrified him, and just as he was about to try and fight his way out of his grasp there appeared between them two more guys. The taller one of the two grabbed the muscled guy's arm and pushed him away, roughly. Justin felt the skin on his wrist burn painfully before the pressure was gone and his arm was free. The shorter guy, who Justin thought he knew but he wasn't quite sure, was in his face, talking to him, appearing concerned, but Justin couldn't quite hear what he was saying; rather, he could hear the words but he couldn't understand them.

That was when he blacked out.

When Justin woke up again, he was in a bed in a room he didn't recognize. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows around him. The room was quiet, and Justin could just hear the occasional sound of a car pass by on the street outside.

Sitting up, he groaned. His head throbbed and his mouth had an awful taste – like he'd thrown up but then hadn't brushed his teeth.

Looking around he tried to figure where he was; he could vaguely remember the events of the night before and he looked down at his left wrist to see it was discolored and slightly swollen. Just then the door to the room opened.

"You," Justin croaked, giving a half-smile.

It was the musician he'd briefly talked to those weeks ago on the studio lot; the one with the bright green eyes and the beautiful, dimpled smile.

He smiled and Justin once again was taken aback by the brilliance of it. He held out a glass of water and Justin took it with his right hand, nodding thanks and downing half the glass right away.

"Where am I and how did I get here?" Justin then asked, a million other questions going through his head at the same time.

"My place. My roommate and I brought you back here," the guy sat on the edge of the bed and watched while Justin took another drink of the water. "You were pretty messed up last night."

Justin nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed for his behavior. Messed up was a bit of an understatement, really.

"And, uh, who are you?" Justin asked awkwardly after another sip of water.

"Aaron. Aaron Ashland."