"when you drop your guard
melt into time, so intertwined, quiet"

November – December 2012
**Justin**

"Fuck!"

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Justin pounded his fists against the steering wheel, letting the rage surge through him, feeding off it. He was so angry, infuriated, seeing red.

He took a shaky deep breath and started the car he'd borrowed from his mother. His hands were trembling from the power of his emotional outburst.

Fuck Brian and his apologies. Fuck Brian and his kisses. Fuck Brian and his lame ass excuses. Fuck him!

"Fuck him," Justin whispered, willing his heart rate start to slow as the rush of angry adrenaline began to abate.

Fuck me and my terrible decision making skills, Justin thought as he steered the car out of the parking garage and into the bustling downtown of Pittsburgh.

It was his own fault for going with him to his hotel, for not leaving well enough alone; for not realizing that there was no "just talking" with Brian. For realizing that he couldn't just turn off the physical attraction, the connection he felt to the older man. Justin thought, no he knew, it would always be there. But anyone who made Justin feel so awful did not deserve the time and energy to be thought about, much less the time and energy it took to be angry towards.

But Brian had said those damn words – he'd said he loved him. He'd fucking said it, finally! Justin would have given anything to have heard those words eight years ago. He'd have sold his soul to the devil, committed murder; he'd have moved heaven and hell just to know without a shadow of a doubt that Brian felt anything more for him than just physical attraction. Now he did know…and he wished he didn't.

That was the root of the problem; as badly as Brian could, and did, make him feel, Justin also could not ignore how good he made him feel, too; his heated stare and eyes that could see through him, the way his hands in his hair sent shock waves through his body, the way his lips were so fucking familiar and welcome that it was like coming back to a home he'd never known he'd been absent from.

"Fuck him," Justin mumbled again but with waning conviction, and more to convince himself that he wasn't precariously close to falling down a dangerously slippery slope. One he knew would be booby trapped with thorns, and briars, and barbed wire that would scratch and rip at him the entire way down.

It would only end bloody, and yet Justin also knew it was so close to being too late to stop it from happening.

Daphne was his only hope, and thankfully she answered on the fourth ring.

"Why, my dearest friend, are you calling me at ten thirty on a Friday night? Why aren't you out on the town, catching up with the Pittsburgh crowd?" Daphne teased.

"Though really the bigger question is why am I home to take your call at ten thirty on a Friday night?" she laughed when Justin didn't answer right away.

"Because you have no life," Justin deadpanned, picking at the lint on the cotton bedspread in the spare room he had claimed for the weekend. Now that Aaron was gone back to Boston, Justin was back at his mom's house for a few nights.

"Ouch. Cruel," Daphne clucked before adding with a chuckle, "but true."

"Seriously though. What's up?"

Justin sighed heavily and slid down under the covers, curling up into a tight ball and wishing that he could go back in time to that night in September, in Boston, and tell himself to…to do something different. To run in the opposite direction at the first glimpse of Brian, not to engage in conversation, not to let him get to him. But then again, that wouldn't have solved the inherent problem, it would only have stopped the symptoms from bursting through the cracks in the shell he'd created to mask the truth of it all.

"Justin?" Daphne sounded worried, her tone more urgent and all teasing gone from her voice.

"I saw him," Justin whispered, his head pulled under the covers and the phone tucked up tight under his chin. He could feel the suffocating heat of his breath in the small cave of the blankets he was cocooned within. The discomfort of it soothed him, which he fleetingly thought was odd.

"Shit. What happened? Are you okay?"

"No," Justin's voice cracked and he heard Daphne's sharp intake of breath.

"Fuck Brian if he hurt you I'm going to rip his goddam balls out and stuff 'em down his fucking throat. I don't even care if one of them is fake," she practically yelled and Justin felt a tiny smile play on his lips, even as a tear slipped silently from his eye, wetting the pillow beneath his head.

"It's not what you think," Justin murmured, so fucking confused about what he was feeling, and how he should feel and he just wanted someone to tell him what to do because he was damn frustrated with seemingly always making the wrong choice when it came to Brian Kinney.

"He said it," Justin added, closing his eyes and replaying the moment. "He told me he loved me."

"Oh my fucking God. Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck. Are you okay? I am gonna rip his balls off. Fuck! What in the hell was he thinking!"

"Daphne," Justin pleaded. He appreciated her anger but he just needed his friend to listen. She could rant later.

"I'm sorry," she answered. "How in the hell did this happen?"

"Michael called me Wednesday night and told me he was in town. That Emmett had accidentally let it slip that I was also in Pittsburgh and that when Brian heard he went apeshit. I guess he was pretty desperate to see me-,"

"Finally. Let him chase you for once," Daphne grumbled, interrupting him.

"Stop it, please," Justin sighed and Daphne apologized before urging him to go on.

"I decided to track him down. I wanted to get him out of my head once and for all and I thought finally, this would be my chance. I figured he'd be at one of three places, either his favorite bathhouse, Babylon, or Woody's. I tried Woody's first because honestly, I couldn't have handled seeing him with someone else at the bathhouse or at Babylon. Luckily he was at Woody's. When he asked me back to his hotel room to talk, I went."

"Justin," Daphne groaned and he could imagine her sitting with her head in her hands.

"I know, but Daph, it felt safe. It felt okay because he seems different. It's like I said before – something in him has chilled out, or something. At least that's what I thought. So I went with him. And we argued. He actually got mad at me for deciding to go back to LA to work on Rage without discussing it with him first! As if he ever discussed any of his life plans with me before making decisions," Justin laughed bitterly.

"Can you believe that?" Justin asked, but when Daphne was silent he felt his chest tighten.

"Well, I can kind of. Not that he's right, but I can see why he'd think that," she said, and Justin clenched his jaw to keep from saying something he might regret later. "It was unfair for him to say it, but I imagine he must have felt pretty shitty when after asking you to move in, you told him that instead you were moving to Los Angeles to work in the movies."

"Daphne," Justin's tone was warning; how could she be defending him!

"I'm sorry Justin," she sighed, "I love you more than anyone and I will always be on your side, but you and Brian have always had these roles with each other and historically you never would have made a decision like that without talking to him. You wouldn't have asked his permission, nor should you have, but you would have at least talked about it. That's all I'm saying. "

"Fine," Justin sighed. He could see her point, and he hadn't considered it from the perspective, but even so Brian had had no right to suddenly throw it back in his face – not after he was so encouraging about going to LA and missing the Liberty Ride. God, the entire situation was so fucked up!

"Anyway," Justin moved on, "it wasn't pretty. But then he said it. I honestly think he thought it would keep me there. That it would make up for everything else. And when I still wanted to leave even after his declaration, that's when he grabbed me and kissed me," Justin heard Daphne's audible gasp.

"Oh fuck no. Did he force you? Justin?"

"No. I mean I didn't want to kiss him but then once I was I didn't want it to stop. I'm fucked Daphne. I mean I knew I still had feelings for him and still cared but I didn't know how deep those feelings went until that fucking kiss. I'm scared and confused, and angry... Because I still love him and now I know he loves me…."

"Fuck! What do I do? Tell me what to do, please." Justin begged.

Daphne was silent on the other end of the phone and Justin, beginning to sweat under the confines of the blankets, tossed the covers back and took a deep breath of the cool air as it hit him, making him shiver with the immediate chill.

"Justin. I-," she paused and he could see her in his mind's eye, leveling him with her wise-beyond-her-years stare, "you have got to stop this pining. You need to put him behind you. For good."

"Think back; remember what he did to you. Do you remember how he made you feel? Not just with the movie premiere but even before then. He wasn't good for you. Sure, there were moments, but it was mostly bad – I remember because I was there to pick you back up after each painful moment, and there were a lot of them. Do you really think anything would be different now?"

That was the million dollar question – would anything be different? Brian had confessed his love, but if Justin was to forsake Aaron and the safety and comfort and security (and love) he had with him, would he be trading it in for more of the same old shit he'd dealt with eight years ago? Would he be once again facing random tricks in his bed, and cruel lectures, and drinking and drugging and scoffing at the slightest romantic gesture? And could Justin really go back to that? Just because he still "loved" Brian? Was only love enough? No…he didn't think so – yet when faced with the prospect of putting Brian permanently in his past he grew terrified.

"I don't know Daphne, I just don't fucking know."

"It's just-," Justin paused, chewing on his lip, "I've loved him for almost half my life. He's consumed me in every way, and I don't necessarily mean that in a good way because you're right. He has hurt me a lot. I could argue I've hurt him too, though. Remember Ethan? But he still consumes me and I can't get rid of him. Or maybe I don't want to get rid of him. I don't know. What I do know is I'll probably love him forever, but that doesn't mean we should be together, right? I mean, how many times will he hurt me before I learn my lesson?"

"That's what I'm saying. How many times will you let him hurt you before you realize you two are like oil and water? I know you love him, and it's nice to know he loved, or loves, you, but love isn't enough. Not anymore. You've moved beyond that, right? Aaron has been good for you. You demand respect, and safety, and commitment, and those are good things."

"Yeah," Justin sighed, begrudgingly agreeing with her.

The thing was, it was Brian, and that was what Justin simply could not let go of. Brian, who was still beautiful, and graceful, and powerful, and strong, and smart, and tempting, and…

"You know what you've got to do, don't you?" Daphne asked, interrupting his dangerous train of thought.

Justin was afraid he did know, and he knew it was something he didn't want to do.

"You've got to talk to Aaron."

"I know. I think I'm going to go back to Boston."

"And while you're there you're going to talk to him, right?" Daphne's tone was questioning, pleading almost.

"I don't know," he grumbled.

"Justin," Daphne sighed, "Come on."

"What? I'm going to spend Aaron's last week in Boston with him. How is that a bad thing."

"It's not. But you need to talk to him," she added pointedly. "Jesus. Five fucking minutes ago you were crying to me about Brian and how you don't know what to do. What you need to do is talk to your fucking fiancé!"

"I wasn't crying," Justin stubbornly retorted, though they both knew he was deluding himself.

"Fine," she said, "but you're walking a fine line here. It's obvious to me that things are more stirred up with Brian than they were before, at least more than you thought they were before. Hell, you flat out admitted to still loving him. So what are you going to do? Because I don't think ignoring it is going to work anymore and you know Aaron is going to notice something is up. You aren't very good at hiding your emotions."

She was right, and Justin knew that. But that didn't mean he liked it. The fact was, Brian still got to him; he still elicited strong emotional and physical responses in Justin, and Justin still desired him. Not just physically, but mentally. He missed talking to him – the times when Brain would talk, that was. But everything else (other than the sex) was so fucking hard with him. There were many faces to Brian and while Justin had thought that he'd finally figured him out, after Stockwell and after the cancer, when he never showed up for Rage he realized he likely had never known Brian as well as he'd thought. The Brian that Justin had thought he'd known, the Brian Justin loved with everything he had, wouldn't have treated him that way and that was nearly as devastating to realize as Brian's actions themselves had been.

He loved Brian, yes; but he loved Aaron, too. He wouldn't have stayed with him for so long if he didn't. He wouldn't have said yes to his proposal if he didn't. But Brian was Brian and he had this fucking power over him…

"Fuck, Daph," Justin groaned, hating how suddenly unsure and confused he was feeling. He knew what he wanted, which was Aaron and everything he gave Justin, but he couldn't stop the thoughts of Brian, and all the "what if's" that came with those thoughts, from dominating him.

"This situation is so fucked up. I love them both, and I can't figure out how to stop loving one of them," he added purposefully keeping it vague because no matter what he said and what Daphne told him, Justin still wasn't sure he was ready, or willing, to give up on Brian. Sure, he had made his choice when he'd left Brian's suite in Pittsburgh but that didn't mean he wasn't still questioning the decision. He'd probably question it forever – leaving the biggest "What If?" possible, hanging over him.

"I know," was all Daphne said in response.

Justin left for Boston the following day, after getting Emmett's ten-cent tour of his small, but very impressive, office and part-planning central. Justin was proud of Emmett for everything he'd accomplished. The only thing missing from his life was someone to share his success with. A while ago he'd reconnected with an old friend from High School, Calvin Culpepper, but they had only lasted about a year. Once Prop 14 passed, Calvin left Pennsylvania and he didn't return when the Proposition was overturned a few years later.

As for Drew Boyd, the other "one that got away" according to Emmett, there were occasional reports of him in the news. He'd left professional football two years after his coming out; he'd been seriously injured and could no longer play, but he hadn't come back to Pittsburgh. Last Emmett heard he was in Miami. He told Justin that letting Drew go was his biggest regret, but he had to keep faith that the right one would come along eventually. That, of course, brought thoughts of Brian back to Justin and he spent the rest of the afternoon with Emmett struggling not to spill his guts and elicit advice from him.

That evening, he boarded a flight to Boston and tried desperately to leave all thoughts of Brian behind in Pittsburgh.

He was marginally successful.

It was all worth it though, to see Aaron's face when he opened the door of his temporary Boston apartment and saw Justin standing there with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey," Justin grinned and laughed at the surprised look on Aaron's face, and in that moment, all seemed right with the world.

**2009**

After Justin woke up in the strange apartment, calmed only by the open and friendly face of Aaron, he accepted some coffee and eggs but then quickly left. He was embarrassed, and angry with himself for getting into such a bad situation that he needed "saving". Justin had never needed saving before, and he was determined never to need saving again.

Before he left, Aaron gave Justin his phone number and told him to call if he ever needed to talk. Justin took it happily, but he was unsure whether he would ever call. He felt humiliated that Aaron had seen him so completely out of control, and though the other man reassured him he wasn't the least bit phased by the whole scene, Justin couldn't help but feel like he was a pity case. But on top of that, he wasn't sure he was in a place, emotionally, to strike up a new relationship – in fact he was damn sure he wasn't ready for any new romantic entanglements. But Aaron insisted there was no pressure - he was happy to just be a friendly ear to listen. So Justin pocketed the card, with his number, and promptly tried to forget about the awful night. And he never did return to that club again.That night in the club – the complete loss of control – was a sign. Justin's life was an unrecognizable mess and he knew he had to do something, he had to take steps to improve his situation or he'd be back in that awful place trying once again (and unsuccessfully) to numb his feelings with drugs and booze. He didn't even like the way either of those things made him feel and he felt his anger at Brian flare up again. The bad habits he was perpetuating were learned, he was simply emulating what he'd seen Brian do to dull his pain. Well, Justin wasn't Brian and he refused to let himself take that same path. It was in that moment that he decided to quit it all. No more drinking, no more drugs. They never helped anyway – they were only ever a temporary reprieve to a far more deep-seeded pain.

Justin also felt the urge to get the hell out of LA for a bit. Taking his work and getting permission from his boss, he drove down the coast to San Diego. He booked a room at the Coronado Hotel and he planned to spend an entire week there, either on the beach or on his balcony, staring out at the ocean and finishing his work for the new film project he was working on.

It was only as Justin sat on the balcony of his room and watched the sun set over the ocean in vibrant and blindingly bright oranges and reds that he realized the timing of everything; his life falling apart so ridiculously and the "death" of Rage….both literally and figuratively.

It wasn't lost on him that all his life drama was culminating in the weeks leading up to the release of the final issue of Rage. He and Michael may have been done actually working on the last issue for months, but the release of the last issue hadn't happened yet and was approaching. It would truly mark the end of an era, the end of something that had opened numerous doors full of incredible opportunities for Justin; and had also, in part, been responsible for ending what had been Justin's most important relationship up to then.

Rage. Justin was glad to see it go, but he also felt bittersweet. It had been a huge part of his life, good and bad. And it had kept a piece of Brian alive in him – though maybe that was the real problem. With Rage still alive, he was unable to get rid of Brian. Now that Rage was dead, maybe he could also let go of Brian and move on.

And Rage was dead. He and Michael, after weeks of what felt like endless debates, had decided to kill Rage. It was the only way they could see the comic ending, and Justin thought it quite apropos considering how Brian lived his life, constantly on the edge, courting danger quite willingly and without concern for consequences of his actions. Justin actually thought Brian would be proud of them for having the balls to kill Rage off – and that just made him angrier still.

But in the end the week in San Diego had the desired effect on Justin. With Rage officially over and Justin's new lease on life freshly minted, he determined it was high time he got his shit together. Upon his return to LA, Justin packed up all the RAGE-related stuff that littered his apartment and while he initially wanted to toss it all into a dumpster, rational minds prevailed and instead he buried it at the bottom of his storage closet, beneath the inherited Christmas decorations and his old sketch pads and art projects from high school. He thought, maybe hopelessly optimistically, that one day he might be able to look at Rage and not feel contempt and repulsion.A few weeks after that, when he was cleaning out his jacket pockets, he found Aaron's number, and he decided to give himself a chance at something new, and he called him.

For the first few weeks of their official acquaintance, they simply talked. Aaron patiently listened while Justin described how he'd come to be in LA, and how he'd come to be completely fucked up that night in the club. He didn't use names or describe anything in detail, but he told Aaron enough that he was sufficiently angry on Justin's behalf for the treatment he'd suffered.

But it was after Justin told Aaron about the bashing that their relationship moved to the next level. They'd been spending a lot of time together, weeks, just talking and getting to know one another. Neither one had made a move, because both of them were still healing. Justin spent that time telling Aaron, in general terms, about Brian, and Aaron telling Justin about his own painful breakup with a man he'd been with for three years. In fact they'd been planning on getting married one day – before Aaron came home and found him in a threesome with their neighbors. It made Justin feel better to know he wasn't the only one to experience such pain in a relationship with someone who was supposed to be "the one".

Justin had thought, maybe naively, that Brian was it for him. He had wanted Brian to be it for him.

So it was when Justin described the bashing to Aaron, and how his boyfriend at the time hadn't come to see him for months while he struggled with therapy and learning to throw a fucking ball again, he found himself not unpleasantly caught off guard when Aaron leaned over and kissed him. It was a soft, closed-mouth peck on the lips, but Justin saw and felt the growing attraction and passion behind it and after only a brief moment's deliberation he reached out and grabbed Aaron, pulling him to him and kissing him proper. Things quickly escalated and they were soon in the bedroom. That was night Justin finally locked Brian away – unresolved feelings and all – and he never spoke of him again to anyone; not until he saw him in Boston three years later.

After three months of dating, Aaron moved out of the apartment he shared with Jeremy and moved in with Justin. Another few months later, Aaron presented Justin with a promise ring and asked him to marry him, when it finally became legal again. Justin, who felt more like himself than he had felt in years – since before moving to LA – said yes immediately. He was in awe of Aaron, and how safe and warm and loved he made Justin feel. It was all he craved in life, and he was happy.

The countdown to the day they could make it officially legal began that night. After making love Justin sketched them on the beach, walking hand in hand together, and Brian and his past with him became nothing but a dusty, dank memory that barely registered a moment's thought or consideration any longer. He had been locked away months prior, but with Aaron's proposal, Justin padlocked the door again, and threw away the keys.

He was moving on, and he couldn't have been happier about it.

The week Justin spent in Boston he was successful in keeping all thoughts of Brian at bay. He and Aaron spent time walking around the city and exploring Cambridge. Justin found the history and architecture inspiring, and he thought one day he'd bring Molly, who was studying architecture at Penn State, to the city as well. She was more into the modern stuff, but he was sure she would appreciate the historical significance and beauty of Boston and its surrounding towns and cities, too.

He and Aaron talked about everything – except the one thing that had been prominent on Justin's mind for the last few months. He was pretty sure Aaron knew he was struggling and he was pretty sure he knew it was Brian-related, but he said nothing and Justin wasn't sure if that was good or bad. What he knew was he felt guilty imagining wedding scenarios (the main focus of their talks that week in Boston) when he still harbored strong, unresolved feelings for another man.

It wasn't until Justin and Aaron boarded their flight back to Los Angeles, most of Aaron's belongings getting shipped back via UPS, that Justin was faced with the reality of his situation. Back in LA, things might return to normal, but could he lock his escaped feelings back up? Particularly when the feel of that kiss with Brian still lingered, forcing itself upon Justin at the most inopportune moments, like when he was in bed with Aaron?

He didn't know what would happen, and it only made him more irritable and frustrated the closer the plane got to landing in Los Angeles. Justin refused to answer when Aaron pressed him to tell him what was wrong, and in the end Aaron gave up, pissed himself because Justin simply would not talk. It wasn't fair, but Justin had kept his meeting with Brian a secret now for a week, and it was too late to tell him about it now. Justin was stuck with the memory of it, and the memory of his visceral reaction. The memory of Brian's hands on him, and the memory of his hands on Brian.

It caused him to snipe at Aaron, and they fought constantly, having more stupid little arguments their first several days back than they had their entire first year together. Justin knew Aaron just wanted to help him; he just wanted Justin to talk to him (he told him as much), but Justin couldn't. He wouldn't. He was determined to handle the monster he'd let escape all on his own; he was determined to get it back into its cage and locked back up where no one could disturb it again. It was just a matter of time…

Four days later and after a particularly nasty argument over dirty dishes left in the sink, Justin was surprised to get a call from Michael. Aside from their conversation in Pittsburgh, when Michael told Justin Brian was in town and wanting to see him, they hadn't really talked much (or at all) the past few years. He left on walk to get some privacy for the call, and to cool down and give Aaron space to do the same.

"I wanted to make sure Brian behaved himself," Michael replied when, after pleasantries were exchanged, Justin asked him why he was calling.

"He was fine," Justin answered, not in the mood to rehash it all with Michael. He could only assume Michael had made up with Brian, and while it wasn't too surprising, it was still another frustration to add to the long list of frustrations. Michael had been as cruel as Justin over the last few years when it came to ripping Brian and his unexplained actions apart. Yet Michael forgave him; he should have been surprised. Michael always forgave Brian, and if Brian had offered up an apology to Michael like he had to Justin – well, then of course Michael had taken him back. That was what Michael did and had always done. Justin had just thought maybe the pattern was finally broken, but it would appear not.

"I told him if he hurt you again that he and I were truly done," Michael stated, and Justin could hear how proud he was of himself in his tone of voice, "I can't be friends with someone who treats people like he treated you."

Justin rolled his eyes. Yet here Michael was doing just that. Brian may have apologized, but Justin wasn't convinced it was entirely sincere, or even that Brian wouldn't end up hurting Michael, and everyone, again one day. It seemed to be what he did – whether by conscious choice or not.

"Well, he didn't hurt me," Justin replied shortly.

"So are you guys okay now?"

"Fuck no," Justin laughed, to his surprise.

"Oh, I thought maybe…if he apologized…," Michael sounded nothing like the forty three year old father and business owner that he was, rather he sounded like a wounded ten-year old kid trying to figure out why his parents were divorcing.

"It's beyond a simple apology at this point," Justin sighed. "And I'd really rather not discuss it."

"Okay," Michael said, sounding disappointed, "sorry."

They sat in silence for what seemed like forever before Justin hear Michael clear his throat.

"You should have heard Mel go off when I told her he had come back and apologized to me," Michael went on, apparently unwilling to let it go. "But I told her it was my life and he was my friend. I really believe he is sorry. I mean, didn't he seem different to you?"

Justin considered his words carefully.

"Yes. He did seem different, but still the same in many ways, too."

It was obvious Michael wasn't going to let it go, so Justin gave him a tiny bit of reassurance. Justin couldn't blame Michael for taking Brian back. They'd been friends for nearly thirty years. That was a long time. And no matter what hurts Brian inflicted on Justin, he could understood why Michael would chose to forget those in favor of taking his friend back; hell, Justin could see himself making the same concessions for Daphne. And Michael had always been very forgiving of Brian's behavior. Justin just hoped it didn't come back to bite him in the ass again.

"Yeah," Michael agreed.

"How's JR? She must be huge now!" Justin abruptly changed the subject; he no longer wished to discuss Brian with Michael, and though Melanie occasionally sent him email updates about her life, she rarely sent pictures of JR – the last one Justin had seen was from two years ago and he was insanely curious to hear about her.

"Yeah, she's growing like a weed, eight years old now. She looks so much like Melanie, though Ben says she has my soulful eyes," Michael laughed, "he thinks I have soulful eyes."

Justin bit his tongue. Soulful wasn't the word he'd use.

They hung up a few minutes later and Justin returned home where he and Aaron had aggressive make-up sex for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

But the conversation with Michael hung like a black cloud over Justin's head and he found himself feeling restless. Finally, a few days later, he decided to call Lindsay knowing that of anyone still in Brian's life she would be the most truthful and candid to Justin regarding him.

"How was your Thanksgiving with your parents?" Justin asked after their mutual hellos.

"It was nice. I think Gus liked it, which is all that mattered," Lindsay responded.

"Good. Good," Justin said, distracted. He hadn't seen Gus since the movie premiere and everyone had come out to LA. Lindsay sent him pictures at Christmas of course, and it was remarkable how much he looked like Brian, but he hadn't seen him in person for so long. He was probably as tall as Justin now...

"So," he paused, "did Brian say anything to you? After Thanksgiving? About me?"

"Brian?" Lindsay's tone was parts surprised and curious, questioning. "Uh, no he didn't. I didn't even know you knew he was in town, or he knew you were in town."

Shit.

"Uh, Michael told me. I saw him. Brian I mean. On Friday night," Justin said, feeling like a fool for outing himself. But he'd been certain Brian would have said something to Lindsay. Of everyone in his life, she seemed to be the one who he was the most open and honest with about things, even more than Michael, and especially when it came to his relationship with Justin. He could remember multiple times in the early years when Lindsay had been responsible for salvaging what little there was between them.

"Oh," she sighed as if coming to a realization, "that must be why he left suddenly."

"He left?"

"Yeah," she paused, "we were supposed to have dinner with Debbie and Carl on Saturday, but Brian called me really late Friday night and said he had to go back to New York. So Gus and I went without him. Deb was miffed to say the least."

Double shit.

Justin sighed, "It's my fault."

"I sincerely doubt that," Lindsay retorted. "Brian's responsible for his own actions."

"I suppose," Justin appeased her, but he was not convinced. Lindsay didn't know about their meeting, and nothing she could say could convince Justin that what had happened in that hotel room wasn't why he'd taken off suddenly.

"Are you okay?"

Justin sighed. He was not okay, but he was also quite certain there was nothing Lindsay could do to help.

"I'm fine."

After such a good week in Boston, Justin was unable to explain or account for why, upon return to LA, he felt irritated and annoyed by everything and everyone, and Aaron bared the brunt of his bad mood. Justin tried to chalk it up to the increased hustle and bustle of the approaching Christmas holiday, but after a week and a half of using that excuse as the reason behind their numerous arguments, Aaron finally called him out on it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Aaron yelled after their third argument of the day – about where to put the Christmas tree no less.

"Nothing the fuck is wrong with me," Justin spat back, practically throwing the books he was emptying out of the small bookcase that sat in front of the window where Aaron wanted to put the tree.

"You're lying," Aaron said softly, "because this isn't you. In the last three years I've never seen you be such a fucking drama queen. You've never been so mean to me. I just wish you'd tell me what's bothering you."

Justin paused in his work and sighed. He looked up from his place on the floor. Aaron was standing over him, his face no longer angry but concerned, and worried, and, Justin thought, a little bit scared.

"Ever since we got back from Boston, hell, ever since Thanksgiving you haven't been acting like yourself," Aaron crouched down and ran his fingers through Justin's hair before cupping his face with both hands. "I just want to help. I want to make you happy but nothing I seem to do has that affect. If you want me to go, just tell me. But please stop punishing me for whatever it is that's bothering you – unless it's my fault. But if it is my fault, just fucking tell me. I'm sick of being treated like shit when I haven't done anything to deserve it."

Fuck. Justin felt his neck grow hot with shame. Aaron was right, of course. Justin was taking out his frustration and anger at Brian on him, and it wasn't fair – particularly because Justin refused to even broach the subject of Brian with Aaron; which was also unfair. But Justin did not want to let Brian into their relationship…even though he already was letting him in by taking things out on Aaron that had nothing to do with him.

"You're right," Justin nodded, reaching up to grasp one of the hands Aaron still held against his cheek. He brought his fingers to his lips and kissed the tip of each one.

"I'm sorry. I am. You've been nothing but wonderful and I've been nothing but awful. The last few months have been-," he paused, seeing Aaron's face register some understanding of what Justin was saying, "hard."

"I know they have. But babe, I'm on your side, always, so please let me help you – don't fight me."

Justin nodded, releasing Aaron's hand and reaching out to pull the other man down – Justin leaning back so he was lying on the floor and Aaron ending up on top of him.

"I love you, you know," Justin whispered, his hands disappearing into Aaron's hair and though he fought the comparison with every fiber of his being, he couldn't help but momentarily think about how Brian's hair, so thick and soft, felt in his fingers. Aaron's hair was stiff and wiry – but when Justin pulled Aaron into a kiss he expelled the memory of Brian; or he tried to anyway.

"Let's just focus on making sure your mom and sister have a wonderful California Christmas," Aaron said when they broke apart.

"Deal?"

Justin grinned, "Deal."

He might still be struggling within himself to reconcile his feelings for Brian – but every time Aaron was so understanding and forgiving of Justin's moodiness, he realized he was better off and that helped Justin put Brian further behind him, at least for the moment anyway.