Brian slowed down when he caught sight of Justin. He sighed. Justin's eyes were red and a little swollen. The little fucker had been crying. After a quick run through the hair (with his fingers), Brian forced himself to smile and then walked up to Justin like he had done a little more than a year ago. Fascinated and swaggering a bit, every inch of his body exuding want.

At first, Justin responded exactly the way Brian had hoped, exactly the way he had the first time. He looked up stunned and then smiled and leaned back against the lamppost. But it was a momentary flicker, like Justin's body remembered something his brain did not. Brian's chest tightened as he watched the light flicker and die. Justin stood up and looked down, his eyes smushed together. He was desperately seeking darkness. Brian sighed and grabbed Justin by the hand. He drawled, "Come on, Kitten, let's go home."

Justin pulled his hand away. "Daphne's coming to get me."

Brian sighed. "No she isn't. She called me."

"I…I can't be with you right now."

"We need to talk. What you remembered…you didn't remember everything. You didn't cheat on me."

Justin sputtered, "But I…I fucked him. I clearly remember fucking him! How is that not cheating?"

Brian ran his fingers through his hair. Then he said, his voice nearly a whisper, "We…we weren't monogamous then."

Justin's eyes widened. In a small voice that made Brian's chest ache painfully, he asked, "What do you mean?"

Brian shrugged. "We fucked other people."

Justin was almost shouting then. He was so confused and frustrated. "But why? I loved you, I'm sure of it. Why would I have wanted to be with anyone else?"

"You didn't. I mean, not really."

Justin was aghast. "You wanted to be with other men." That wasn't a question. It was a statement. An accusation.

Brian clenched and unclenched his fist. He hadn't wanted to do this. No one would believe it, but ripping Justin's innocence from him, not his cherry, but his youthful romantic notions, had been hard enough the first time, though Brian had considered it, in part, a public service. Brian had known Justin would get his heart broken. Better sooner than later. But now that things were different, that Brian was different, he had hoped this day would never come. He was actually glad that that part of Justin, the part that Brian had destroyed, had been restored. It was like they had traded places. Before the bashing, Brian had been the teacher, disabusing Justin of silly, unrealistic notions. But after, Justin was, enlarging the crack in the stone encasing Brian's heart and making him think, maybe, just maybe, love can be real and forever. That maybe commitment and fidelity were not the root of all evil, the beginning of the end.

But now, what could he do? The truth was the truth. Brian had wanted other men. The more he had wanted Justin, the more he had wanted, needed, to fuck other men. Justin's eyes were filled with pain, disappointment. How many times had Brian put that look in his eyes? Maybe he should have done what Debbie and Jennifer had told him to do. "Just walk away. Let him be happy." Brian let his head fall and closed his eyes for a moment. He expected Justin to cry, to yell, to run. All of the above and in that order.

But Justin didn't do any of those things. Brian was surprised to feel Justin's soft, but firm hand slip in his own. Brian was suddenly aware of how much smaller Justin's hands were. Almost tiny in comparison to his. Fuck. All Brian wanted to do was what Justin had expected him to do, when the shit had started to hit the fan, but before the big finish. To protect him. But now…Justin was doing the protecting. Brian could barely breathe as he looked up, his eyes, filled with terror and guilt, meeting Justin's. His burned with determination. Brian swallowed hard.

Justin accused, "You regret it."

Brian opened his mouth, ready to reply with the standard quip, "Brian Kinney doesn't do regret," but no sound came. He closed his mouth, but did nothing to indicate his agreement. He didn't know what to do. He wanted Justin to see him only as he was now, whoever the fuck that was, but the truth was the truth. One day, Justin might remember everything. Brian didn't want to set him up for a hard fall, putting false romantic notions back into his head, ideals that Brian 1.0 could never have lived up to.

Justin smiled. Not quite a trademark Sunshine smile, but it was bright, filled with genuine happiness. Justin slipped his other hand into Brian's and then threaded their fingers together. He looked up at the man, still grinning. "And now you're all mine." Hesitantly, anxiously, he inquired, "Right?"

Brian nodded slowly. In a husky whisper, he said, "I am."

For whatever it was worth, Brian had stopped tricking (of course, not of his own free will. His body had mutinied, causing him to feel nauseous every time he sauntered up to a man who wasn't Justin, increasing the nausea to unbearable proportions as they drew nearer to penetration of any kind…kissing, blow jobs, fucking). Brian might not have decided to stop of his own accord, but now that Justin was back in his life, in his bed, he wouldn't start again, not even if his body relented. Justin was too precious, too rare, to let anything stand in the way of Brian's being with him. Brian could still feel the desolation of the weeks without seeing Justin at all and the desperate fear that he never would, that if he did, Justin might not even notice him in a crowd, let alone fall in love with him again. Brian released Justin's hands, but only to take him in his arms. Then he breathed, "Can we go home now, Kitten?"