Brian woke up early the next morning because he'd stupidly managed to choose a bedroom that faced east and the curtains were paper thin. The cold morning sun had cut through the curtains like a knife and then proceeded to slice through Brian's dreams. Already this morning he could feel that the warmth of the central heating had begun work its' way through the enormous house. Good, he thought, that would stop the fucking kid from appearing in his room in the middle of the night.

He untangled himself carefully from Justin and then pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. He took one last look at the kid, who was curled up like a baby in his big bed before padding downstairs to get a cup of coffee. He wasn't exactly surprised to see Ted already awake, sucking down coffee and tapping away on his laptop, with Pittsburgh News on the television in the background.

"I didn't know you can pick up this shit out of state," Brian commented as he saw his own face flash up on the screen and the words 'still at large' came up beneath it. He couldn't help smirk at that. Maybe the whole of Pittsburgh knowing he was large wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"The picture isn't usually very good," Ted admitted, "but I rerouted some wires and managed to strengthen the signal." He smiled. "I thought you might like to see yourself on television. Your face has been flashing up every five minutes, with more information as to your whereabouts. Lucky for us they're going in completely the wrong direction. At the moment they're pretty sure you're hiding out in the Tioga State Forest."

"Where the fuck is that?" Brian asked, taking a sip of his coffee as he watched a policeman point to a large clump of trees and announce;

"we're 80% sure Kinney and the unnamed man are hiding Justin Taylor somewhere within this area. We are confident at this time of finding the boy alive."

"It's about 270 miles in the wrong direction," Ted smiled proudly. "Thanks in no small part to an anonymous tip off that came in this morning from a camper saying he'd seen a man that looked just like Brian Kinney dragging a young blonde into the forest."

"Theodore Schmitt," Brian beamed, "you sly dog. I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"Well, don't get too confident yet. A useless clue from a scrambled telephone line won't keep them hunting around there forever."

"No, but the more time they spend hunting around in that forest, the more likely it is that the real trail will go cold," Brian said, watching the TV carefully. They were currently showing a slideshow of Justin's childhood pictures as Justin's mother made yet another soppy plea for her son to come home. "We just need the media to get bored of this story quickly. As soon as there's no public interest, Stockwell will drop this case like a piece of burning dog shit. You know how little he does when it comes to saving fags."

Ted nodded a little. "But …" he started and then trailed off and went back to his laptop. He didn't particularly want to contradict Brian but as he'd been watching the coverage of the Justin Taylor kidnapping something had been constantly brought to his attention.

"What is it Theodore?" Brian asked, sounding half bored.

"It's just," he paused again. "The thing is," he started for a third time, "the police keep talking about waiting for a ransom note. I've done some research and every kidnapper sends a ransom note within a few days at the most a week. After that, the police begin to treat the case as a murder and if that happens, we could be looking at prolonged media exposure."

"So you're saying we should send a note?"

"I'm saying we should think about it," Ted said firmly. The two men just stared at each other in silence until a happy whistling tune broke the stony atmosphere.

"My, my," Emmett said as he walked into the dining area where the men were sat, "isn't this a lovely morning. I do love a little tension in the kitchen when I first wake up."

"It's not tension, Honeycutt," Brian snapped. "It's a thinking silence. You've probably never experienced it before."

"Aren't we joyful this morning," Emmett scorned. And then clocking Brian and Ted's serious face, he panicked. "What's happened?" He asked immediately. "Have they found us? Do they know where we are? Oh God, they're coming, aren't they?"

"Don't queen out" Brian frowned. "The cops are nowhere near us. Thanks to Theodore they're wasting their time in some forest miles away but … he's raised an interesting point about kidnappings."

"Which is?" Emmett asked getting curious.

"I'll explain when Michael gets down here. We need to decide something as a group."

"Ooo, I do love a good drama," Emmett giggled, going to pour himself a coffee. "Especially, when it doesn't involve me getting arrested. Though," Emmett continued daintily, "I've seen enough prison porn to think I'd quite enjoy the showers."

"I don't think prison is like porn," Ted said with half-a-smile.

"Ah," Brian smirked, "what immortal words. I shall be sure to have them put on your gravestone Theodore. 'Here lies Theodore Schmitt," he quoted grandly, " 'friend to many, lover to few…'" Ted scowled at that. "'… I don't think Prison is like porn'."

"What are they gonna put on your grave?" Ted snapped back. "Fucked many, loved none."

"It's not horrible; factual and succinct" Brian smiled as though he were generally considering it. "Though I was thinking something more like 'Here lies Brian Kinney; no apologies, no excuses, no regrets.'"

"Or, 'He's dead but his dick lives on'." Ted suggested.

"Speaking of which," Emmett chimed in suddenly, "don't think we didn't hear you fucking that kid last night."

"What can I say," Brian shrugged. "I'm a hot blooded gay man and … he's a horny eighteen year old. What the fuck did everyone think would happen?"

Ted just shook his head, a look of admiration on his face. "I think your grave should read: Brian Kinney, sexually insatiable."

"In brackets," Emmett added, "he's fucking angles as we speak."

"I quite like that," Brian chuckled. "If I die first, you have permission to put that on my grave."

"I'll hold you to that," Ted smirked.

::

It seemed to take an age for Michael to enter the dining area. He looked pissed but maybe that had something to do with the bouncing blonde that followed him into the room.

"Oh, thank god," Emmett cried when he saw Michael. "I've been almost dying with apprehension. Sitty down," he kicked a chair out so Michael could have a seat, "Brian has something important to tell us."

"Does he?" Michael scowled angrily at his supposed best friend, his eyebrows knitting together.

"What is it?" Justin asked, bouncing over to the table.

"It's not for your ears, kid," Brian scowled. "I'm starving. Why don't you go and make yourself useful?"

"But I wanna be part of things."

"You are part of things," Brian said condescendingly. "Making the breakfast is the most important part of this whole meeting."

Justin just sulked, but he went over to the stove anyway.

"Omelette's okay with everyone?" He asked, and receiving four mumbles of agreement, he began cracking eggs.

He tried to overhear the conversation as best he could but it was useless. They were using infuriatingly low voices and the hissing of the cooker was drowning out any words he might have been able to pick out. So he went back to his cooking like the good little chef-slave he was quickly becoming.

"… so," Brian said, when he'd finished explaining the ransom note situation, "what do you think?"

"I think I wanna know why the fuck I saw him coming out of your fucking room this morning," Michael hissed almost immediately. Ted didn't react but Emmett raised an eyebrow, partly because of Michael's obvious jealousy and partly because he was truly interested by what answer Brian would give when questioned by his best friend about his one fuck only policy. Especially, as he was going to be stuck in the same house as this kid for an indeterminate amount of time.

"He got freaked out," Brian shrugged, like it was no big deal. But it was a very big deal, they all knew it, especially Michael. "Now," Brian moved on swiftly, "ransom note, yes or no?"

Eventually, after much debating, it was decided that they wouldn't send a ransom note, fearing that it would fuel the fire and only give the police more energy for the chase. They decided to just wait it out until Justin Taylor became just another missing person in a long stream of unsolved cases.

Brian noticed that the nights in the mansion-hideout quickly developed a pattern. Ted would go to bed first. Then Michael would go up a little while later. Emmett would go up last, chatting about how Aunt Lula said something about 'beauty sleep' or 'early birds and worms' or 'early to bed, early to rise'. And then it would just be him and Justin, sat on a sofa watching the TV or sat in the kitchen or in the conservatory where Justin would proceed to talk his ear off for a while until he'd yawn widely and Brian would force him to go to bed too.

Brian usually didn't leave it long after Justin was gone before he went to his own bedroom. He'd go about his normal pre-sleep ritual involving lots of anti-aging creams before getting into bed. Precisely five minutes later, Justin would appear in-between his covers and both would discover that Emmett's Aunt Lula had a very good point about 'early rises'. After about a week, Brian stopped bothering to send Justin to his own room first. It was a waste of energy and time that could be put to better use fucking.

What did Brian care anyway? Justin's 'bedroom' had always been a bit of a charade right from the start. Brian had known from the second they all moved into this house that Justin would be sleeping in his room. He'd just wanted to save face for a while but what was the point anymore? It wasn't as if the other three couldn't hear them fucking till the wee hours of the morning. They'd all made that perfectly clear on many occasions. Still, it wasn't like there was anyone else to fuck whilst they were locked up in this prison-house. Brian was sure that when he got out of here and when he saw other fuckable guys, the need to fuck Justin wouldn't be as strong. And anyway, Brian had never exactly liked the eerie non-quiet that came with nightfall in the countryside. The sounds of animals coughing, the screams of animals falling prey to predators. It was a scary world out there but with Justin sleeping soundly next to him … well, it was a little less scary.

The days in the mansion-hideout were hellishly boring. Ted could keep himself busy checking for updates in the case and constantly telling Brian where the police were in their investigation and percentage chances of finding them, which were thankfully getting lower and lower every day. Michael spent most of the day moping about with a miserable expression on his face or on the phone to his Ma, who, naturally, was worried sick about her 'boys on the run'. She kept talking about going to see them but Brian expressly forbad it;

"We can't let anything jeopardize our safety here." And eventually, Debbie agreed.

Emmett went around decorating and improving the 'chi' of the place and Justin just sang John Denver's 'Country Roads' over and over again, pointing out every time that they were indeed in West Virginia.

"That's very clever," Brian had mocked the first few times Justin had said it.

"Shut the fuck up," Brian had warned when the song began to get incessant.

And, eventually, about a week into their stay at the mansion-hideout, Brian took out his gun and shot the CD player to pieces; leaving Justin stood just a foot from an exploded mess of CD bits and electronic wires with a confused and miserable expression on his face.

Unbelievably, Justin's whining about the lack of music was almost more annoying than the constant repeat of John Denver, so, on one of Michael and Ted's trips to town, Brian asked them to get a CD player for Justin.

"Anything else his highness wants?" Michael scowled.

"Now, now Mikey," Brian tutted. "Jealousy doesn't become you."

"Shut up, asshole," Michael snapped back.

"Hey, if you carry on like this. I'll take your going to town privileges off you," Brian mocked.

"What fucking privileges? It's bullshit having to run back and forth to town for stuff but me and Ted are the only ones who can do it because we weren't stupid enough to be seen."

Brian just rolled his eyes. He was completely sick of Michael's sulky tantrums. He was acting like a spoilt toddler, who wasn't getting his own way. Brian and Michael had been best friends for years but he'd never seen him act like this before and although he had an idea as to what it was about he was not allowing himself to think about it too much.

"Just run along," Brian smirked, patting Michael on the head like a puppy.

Michael scowled further and left in a huff and marched out to the car in a huff.

"I wish you wouldn't wind him up," Ted groaned as he went to follow Michael. "I have to listen to him moan about you for the whole trip now."

"You could just drown him out with La Crapiata."

"La Traviata," Ted corrected.

"Whatever the fuck," was Brian's response as he pushed Ted out the front door. "Justin," he yelled as he shut the door. The kid bounded up immediately. "Run upstairs and disable the alarm so Ted and Mikey can get out."

"Why do I have to do it?"

"Because you're the youngest."

"So!"

"And," Brian said a hint of anger in his voice, "if you don't; I'll shoot you a new asshole."

Justin seemed to consider this for a moment before deciding, "that could improve our fucking."

Brian looked at the cheeky look on the kids face and felt his anger boil and pop. He fucking hated being disobeyed. He hated being told no. And most of all he hated it when someone as stupid and insignificant as this fucking kid did all three with an innocent grin plastered on his face.

"If you don't go now," Brian seethed. "There won't be any more fucking."

"Yeah, right. We all know you're a horny son of a bitch and I'm the only fuckable thing in the house. You're not going to stop fucking me any time soon."

He was so confident, so cocksure of himself. He really thought that nothing could touch him and in a second Brian knew he had to be taken down a peg or two. He pulled out the gun from where it was stowed in the waistband at the back of his pants and pointed it right at the kid.

"Go," he said calmly, "now."

Justin looked at the gun with a bored expression and sighed heavily. "Okay, okay. Sheesh, I'm going." And as he walked away up the stairs, Brian could hear him muttering, "It's the same thing every time. You don't get your way so you pull the fucking gun out and prove you're the big man. It's not like the fucking thing's loaded anyway. You've told me it hasn't been loaded since we started using it at night to liven up our fucking…"

Justin's voice started to die away and Brian was grateful for the silence that was usually so difficult to find in this place.

"Cheeky, little shit," he growled as he turned to see Emmett smirking at him knowingly. "What!" He demanded.

"That kid's got to you," Emmett chuckled.

"Don't be ridiculous," Brian snapped.

"Ooo," Emmett giggled like a child on a playground. "Did I touch a nerve there?"

Brian just rolled his eyes and pushed the net curtain at the window across to make sure Ted and Michael had got out of the grounds safely. He was trying to ignore Emmett, but the flamboyant queen was harder to ignore than a ten inch dildo up your ass.

"I think you actually like him, don't you? I mean god knows he's cute but he's fiery too. Quick-witted, funny, smart enough to keep even the great Brian Kinney on his toes. In fact," Emmett concluded, "if you had a type, I'd say he was it."

"Have you finished?" Brian asked sarcastically, putting the curtain back, satisfied the car had left without setting any of the alarms off.

Emmett just cocked an eyebrow and nodded, "for now."

It was at that moment that Justin reappeared, almost skipping into the room. He was always skipping and bounding and moving and wriggling. He couldn't sit down for more than a second without shifting about. He couldn't even keep still in his sleep. Brian was sick of being woken in the middle of the night because he was being kicked to pieces by the little shit. The first couple of times it had happened, he'd tried to send Justin back to his bed but the kid had just smiled knowingly at him and wrapped himself up tighter in the sheets. Now, Brian just ignored it and whenever he was woken up he'd just move further away or pull him closer; both had the same effect. Brian was also sick of all the guys smirking when he and Justin decided to make it an early evening. Or when he and Justin decided to take a stroll out to the stables in the morning, or the afternoon, or in the evening. So what if they wanted to fuck, that was no reason for the rest of the guys to look at him like they were on to some big secret about him that not even he knew yet. He was sick of all the guys trying to insinuate that this thing with Justin was fuelled by anything other than convenience.

"Did you turn the alarms back on?" He snapped at Justin immediately.

"Well durr, I'm not a total idiot," the kid scorned.

Brian flinched a little at the kid's arrogance but he managed not to lose his temper.

"The jury's out on that one," Brian said in a tone that was dangerously calm. "Now go and make dinner, I'm hungry."

"There's nothing for dinner," Justin pointed out in the same patronizingly, childish voice. "That's why Ted and Michael have gone to the store." And that was the end of Brian's incredibly short fuse all used up. He grabbed the front of Justin's shirt and slammed him hard against the wall.

"I said," he seethed, "I'm hungry."

"Kinky," Justin smirked. But Brian just let out a low, animalistic growl that clearly said, 'I'm on the edge of sanity' and Justin's eyes grew wide, glassy and terrified. Finally, Brian thought, he's fucking scared.

The kid immediately changed tact, "I-I mean, I'll go and see if I can rustle up a sandwich."

"Better," Brian approved, letting go of the shirt and scowling as Justin scurried to the kitchen.

Brian breathed slowly for a couple of seconds, letting the anger seep slowly out of him. He wasn't sure why the kid could get him so riled so easily. The twink just got right under his skin. He was always challenging him, fighting to be his equal and sometimes Brian had to show the kid that no one in this house was his equal especially not some know-nothing kid. Except … well, maybe he had been a little tough on the kid. He had just been a little cheeky after all. No, he had to be put in his place. But had Brian had to turn violent?

With the rational side of his brain quickly returning, Brian was having a tough time convincing himself not to feel guilty about what had just happened and it didn't help when he turned away from the wall and met Emmett's disapproving eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," the other man shrugged. "It's just sometimes, you're a real asshole."

"I'm not," Brian replied. "I'm just drawn that way."

"Mm," Emmett hummed. "Throwing an innocent kid against a wall for being a little bit cheeky? No, you're definitely an asshole."

And then he flounced off, leaving Brian to fully hate himself for losing it so badly. He barely ever lost it. He'd grown up on the receiving end of a few of his father's out-of-control moments and he promised himself he'd never be out of control but now and again something would get to him. And this kid was one of those things. Justin made him feel out of control, giddy and unsure. He made him uncertain, made him question himself about everything and he didn't like it, not one bit.

::

Justin found some bread that was going a little stale and a can of tuna. He decided Brian would have to make do with a tuna sandwich unless he could find a bit of cheese to melt on top. Though Justin knew this effort was wasted. The only reason he was being forced to make this sandwich was because Brian was trying to prove some kind of point. Justin wasn't sure what the point was but he just got on with it, he didn't want to see that wild, empty look in Brian's eyes again. It was an image he didn't think a hundred years would erase. It wasn't Brian that had lifted him up and slammed him against the wall, when he'd looked in those brown eyes, he couldn't see Brian anywhere. It was something else, some demon that Brian usually had under control but Justin didn't want to meet the demon again. His back was a little sore and he knew his delicate 'bruise-prone' skin would be displaying an impressive purple-black mark later but for now, he just carried on like everything was fine … like he was fine, which was exactly what he told Emmett when the taller man appeared a few seconds later to check how he was.

"You know," Emmett said with a bit of a smile, "my theory is he only turned on you because he's unsure about his feelings towards you."

"What, you mean trying to figure out whether he hates me or just dislikes me intensely?" Justin smiled weakly at his joke. The truth was, he knew Brian didn't hate him. It was obvious in the way he was when it was just the two of them, in the way he'd carried Justin up to the bed one night because he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. These weren't the actions of a man who hates you. He knew all this but he didn't always feel it so it was nice to hear Emmett echo his thoughts.

"It's not that he hates you," the taller man said. "It's that he doesn't understand how to feel about you. You see, in the world of Brian Kinney there's two types of people; people he fucks and people he's friends with. You, Justin, are quickly becoming both and I'm not sure he likes that."

Justin smiled a bit as he put the tuna and cheese between the bits of bread and shoved it under the grill.

"Were you a psychoanalyst in a former life, Em?"

"No, baby," he laughed. "I've just known Brian Kinney for more years than I'd like to admit and he's not too hard to read after a while."

Justin nodded and checked on his tuna melt before asking, "do you want a sandwich?"

"No, no. Just finish this one for his royal highness and then give him a wide berth for the rest of the day. He'll apologize when he's ready, though don't expect flowers and an 'I'm sorry', you'll just … know."

"Mm," Justin nodded because somehow, he sort of knew what Emmett meant.

When the sandwich was finished, he took it in to Brian. The older man grunted some sort of thank you and Justin decided to go back to the kitchen and clatter about for a bit, pretending to make dinner. It was only when Emmett came in from the sitting room, where both he and Brian were watching Pittsburgh News for the hundredth time that day, to tell Justin to 'shut the fuck up' as they both knew he didn't have ingredients so the pot banging was pointless. Feeling a little red in the face, Justin decided it would be a good time to go and pull on some of the clothes Ted and Michael had brought back on their first trip in to town. He wrapped up warm, grabbed a drawing pad and some pencils that Justin had worked up the courage to ask Ted for on their second trip into town and then went outside into the garden.

Although it hadn't snowed yet this winter, the frost on the ground gave the impression of freshly fallen snow. It twinkled in the low winter sun. It was ridiculous how early the sun set in the winter. It was barely four o'clock but he knew he'd be struggling to see anything at all in about an hour's time. No time to waste. He walked away from the house, avoiding the pool which was covered in a blue tarpaulin. He strolled under the giant trees, his feet crunching on the frozen grass until he found a spot that felt fight. It was a large tree about 50 yards from the house that had a massive flat rock beneath it. He sat down and the cold immediately bit at him through his jeans and his baggy tracksuit bottoms that he'd worn over the top. He pulled out the pad and looked up towards the house. He'd wanted to draw it for a while. The overgrown ivy and the old wooden beams would provide a challenge and not only that, the house itself was beautiful architecturally. He started off drawing with his gloves on but pretty quickly found the thick material restricting. He pulled the gloves off and began again. It wasn't long before his delicate hands were bright red and the tips of his fingers were turning slightly blue. He rubbed them together, blowing warm air on them but nothing helped. He battled on for a few more minutes before deciding it was useless. He was too cold and his fingers were too numb to be able to do the picture any justice. Maybe he could have a go from memory after dinner but he had another subject he wanted to draw from memory and it was much more interesting than the house.

Justin was already pulling on his gloves and about to head in when he heard Brian's voice cut through the silence and shout, "get inside you twot. You'll fucking freeze out there. Besides, Ted and Michael are back; you can start cooking now."

Justin smiled and shook his head a little. He didn't particularly mind being designated house cook. He did mind being designated house slave but that was to be expected, he was the youngest and the newest and the least experienced. In short, he had nothing going for him so he stood up slowly and strolled towards the house, crunching icy blades of grass as he went.

"Jesus Christ," Brian groaned, pulling him inside when he could reach him for the doorway. "You frozen solid."

"I'm o-okay," Justin shivered.

"Bullshit," Brian said. "Go and get a shower and put on some dry clothes first. Then make us dinner."

Justin nodded. It was clear that whatever anger Brian had been holding against him had been frozen off in his little stint in the garden. Brian was a lot more pleasant over dinner. He kept rubbing his foot up and down Justin's leg and even told him the meal was nice. From the intense stares and the smouldering glances, none of the table were surprised to see Justin and Brian make an early exit after the food had disappeared.

::

The second the bedroom door had shut, there'd only been one thing on either on their minds and that had been to get naked and get to bed as quickly as physically possible. It was only when Justin was lying flat on his stomach that the furious pace started to slow down. Justin heard Brian take a sharp intake of breath as though he'd seen something that scared him or hurt him. Justin was about to flip over to find out what was wrong when he felt feather-light fingers brushing over the tender, bruised skin on his back. Then he felt soft lips following the path set by his fingers and Justin was reminded of how his mother used to kiss his boo-boos better when he grazed his knee as a boy. But this was more than a superficial kiss to sooth a screaming child; this was an apology, an admission of guilt. Justin desperately wanted to speak, he wanted to tell the older man he was forgiven but more than that, he didn't want to break the spell.

Brian looked at the ugly purple-black mark that stood out horribly on the otherwise perfect skin. His eyes were drawn to it, despite his desperate wish that he could look away. He tried to will the mark away, hoping with everything he had that the 'it' would fade. But the mark didn't fade. It just sat there staring up at him, goading him, showing him what he was capable of when he allowed the Kinney blood to boil and the monster to be released. He couldn't bear to face it anymore. He grabbed the kids and flipped him over sharply but as soon as Justin's back connected the mattress he winced. Brian felt sick to his core, he'd caused that pain. It was his fault and the guilt was eating away at him inside.

Brian pushed himself away from the kid and turned his back on him, sliding to sit at the edge of the bed, head in hands.

"It's okay," he heard Justin whisper behind him, as he felt a dip in the mattress as the kid moved closer. A pale hand fell onto his shoulder. He supposed it was meant to be comforting but it just felt wrong. He'd hurt Justin and now Justin was comforting him. What kind of fucked up world were they living in?

"It's not okay," Brian mumbled, shaking the younger man off. "Don't say that."

"But I am fine," Justin insisted. "It's not that bad, I just bruise easily and I'm…"

"Stop!" Brian said firmly. "Don't make excuses for me."

"But…"

"Justin, stop," Brian said looking seriously at the kid. "I know what it's like to be thrown around and beaten up. I know what it's like to live with someone who can be fine one second and flip the next. I know what it's like to be scared of someone you should be able to trust."

"I'm not scared of you," Justin whispered honestly. He'd never seen Brian open up before. This was the first time he'd heard the older man talk about his past or about himself at all and he had to reassure him, to let him know that it was okay and that he was there if Brian needed to talk. But Brian just snorted and fixed his eyes on the younger man.

"If you're not scared then you should be," he warned. "In fact, you should be fucking terrified." He took a deep breath and looked straight into Justin's eyes, "you'd be a fool not to be."

"Then I guess I'm a fool," Justin said with a small smile, pressing his lips to the other man's cheekbone. Then his ear, eyebrow, corner of the mouth until Brian turned towards him and kissed him back. That night everything was slower, everything was gentler and it felt a lot less like fucking and a lot more like something else, something unnamable. Something Brian refused to think about.

::

Brian lay awake for a long time after Justin fell asleep. He was tangling his hands in the kid's blonde hair. He found the feel of it between his fingers strangely comforting in the silence and darkness especially as the thoughts in his head were anything but comforting. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the bruise on Justin's back, the way the kid had winced when it had touched the mattress. And then he'd be transported back to a time twenty years ago when he was curled up under his bed, his shoulder's and ribs throbbing in agony as he listened anxiously for the footsteps of his father downstairs, praying they wouldn't come any closer, praying they wouldn't come and get him.

Brian shook himself free of his memory and looked down at the man in his arms. And that's when he vowed that he would never take his anger out on Justin again. He wouldn't let the guys push him on these strange feelings he had for this kid and he wouldn't let himself lose control like this, not again. He refused to become like his father. He'd rather die than turn violent to the people closest to him. He turned to press his lips to Justin's temple.

"I'm sorry I was a shit to you," he murmured against the pale skin, "but I promise I won't let myself hurt you again."

Then Brian closed his eyes and drifted into a peaceful sleep, which meant he didn't notice the small smile that danced fleetingly across Justin's lips.