Mechanical Michaelangelo

Title: Mechanical Michelangelo - Ch 21-30
Author: Mohawk
Rating: Adults Only
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk belong to Russel T Davies, Cowlip, etc, I don't own anything.
Feedback: Is adored
Spoilers: Slight season 1
Summary: What if Brian didn't find Justin when he ran away to New York in season 1? How would Justin cope on his own, in a strange city? Could his art be his only salvation? The title was inspired by Sarah Hall's The Electric Michelangelo

TWENTY ONE My Guitar

Justin worked with a precision he learned two years ago, removing the ball in the pen, sharpening the tip, and uncoiling the guitar string. His insides churned, making him feel sick, memories to close to the forefront of his mind. It was as if just touching these things brought back the feelings he had back then. They were an emotional time machine and he was transported back in time.

Excitement running through his veins, sickness churning in his stomach, knowing it was wrong, but unable to stop it because it was what he deserved and the only thing that made him feel.

He worked in the darkness, the only light from the living room, casting an eerie glow over the table. It was better this way, his hands remembered what to do more than his eyes did. He felt along the pen, touched the guitar string and knew exactly what to do without looking. His fingers shook a little, but it didn’t matter, he carried on, all the time listening out for the key in the lock, knowing that it would be Brian and not Cam.

Justin swallowed, gulping down his emotions, refusing to let them rise. It was now or never. Battle of the Bands had come and gone, and they had talked in the only way Brian knew how, by actions, by fucking. Justin briefly wondered if Brian’s family knew where he was spending his weekends, then shrugged it off as unimportant. There were more important things to think of tonight, the beginning of the end, or maybe the end of the beginning.

Justin would do his talking with actions too, before it was too late, before he got sucked into Brian Kinney’s world only to have him reject him again. He couldn’t hide forever, and he didn’t want to.

The door opened and he paused for a second, before carrying on.

“Justin?” Brian called out, but Justin didn’t answer, he didn’t think his voice would work even if he wanted to.

Brian eventually made his way into the kitchen, hesitating when he saw Justin sitting at the table. “What you doing in the dark?” He flicked the switch and saw Justin wince.

Justin put the pen down, unable to continue with the harsh lights over head. His memory didn’t know how to do this surrounded by light. He didn’t look at Brian, couldn’t. Just continued to look at the items on the table, items he’d placed there with such precision.

“Do you know what you can do with a ballpoint pen, toothbrush, a guitar string, and a walkman?” He asked slowly, making sure his words left his mouth complete.

Brian shrugged, uncomfortable, unsure of what was happening. “You’ll never build a guitar with that shit, that’s for sure.”

Justin didn’t laugh, it was almost like he didn’t hear him, like he was staring a hole through the table. With shaking hands he picked up the toothbrush, and fumbled in his pocket for a lighter. He held the flame underneath it, watching the plastic melt. “Can you turn the light off?”

Brian did as he asked silently, then sat down opposite, watching Justin manipulate the plastic. “What’s going on?”

“I’m telling you what I did. It’s amazing what you can learn on the streets. A toothbrush isn’t a toothbrush anymore, a walkman, not a walkman, and a pen? Oh it’s so much more than a pen,” he said it wistfully, thinking back to those nights, when he’d first found this, when it was new and exciting and something to live for.

“What are you doing?”

“Didn’t you ever wonder how I got into tattooing? Did you think Bren saw talent in a young street artist and gave me a break? This was my first taste of tattooing.” Quick fingers threaded the metal string through the pen, attaching each part like a pro.

“I don’t get it.”

“I didn’t expect you to. In some ways I overtook you on life experience years ago.” He plugged one end of the wire into the walkman then pressed fast forward, the sharpened end of the guitar string vibrating.

“Do you like it?”

“I think you’re seriously fucked.” Brian went to stand, but stopped as Justin pressed the tip to his own arm. “Fuck, Justin, what are you doing?” He leaned over the table and pulled at his wrist until Justin looked up and pressed stop.

“This is a home made tattoo gun, though it really should be called street made, I suppose. My first taste of tattooing.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Justin blinked, almost sleepily and looked down at his arm. “It’s OK, there isn’t any ink in it. This was a show for you, actions speak louder than words after all, a glimpse into my life, the reason for this.” He held up his hands, for once uncovered by the gloves, but didn’t show Brian his palms.

“Some of the guys tattooed a lot, themselves, each other, but I had that added extra, I could actually draw, it didn’t take long for me to get the hang of the needle. I started off small, my ankles, Celtic patterns that don’t quite fit with the vines?”

Brian nodded, he’d noticed, how could he not?

“Experimenting in tone, shading, and lines. I liked it. Fuck, more than liked it. Tattooing is addictive and the pain was the only way I knew I was alive.” He paused, slightly, remembering. “It rained the day it started. I hate the rain; it’s so suffocating, cold and unforgiving.” He placed his hands on the table, palms skywards. “It started off as a pattern at first, but I just couldn’t stop, I carried on until all I could see was black.” Justin looked at his hands, with something akin to horror on his face, his palms were a dull grey in colour, and he could barely remember it happening. It was a shock each time he saw them.

“Tattoos are just like any other wound on the skin, they scab over, but I never stopped, just kept jabbing the needle in, filling my skin with colour. But it wasn’t about the art, it stopped being art the moment I touched that guitar string against my hands.”

“Then what was it? Why?” Brian reached over, hesitating before touching Justin’s hands, then letting his fingers feel the roughened, uneven skin when he didn’t pull away.

“Self infliction. Cutting off my nose to spite my face? Hurting the only thing I had left because I wasn’t worthy? I was injecting open wounds with ink, reopening wounds with an unhygienic needle in an unhygienic street, with unhygienic people. They got infected and it was almost a relief.” Justin pulled his hands away and crossed them over his chest. “That’s when Bren found me. He kicked my ass, dragged me to hospital, kicked my ass again, told me he liked my work, kicked my ass and gave me an apprenticeship.”

“They seem alright now.” Brian said, pulling at Justin’s arms and feeling the contours of his hands, the flesh of his thumb, the differing texture that couldn’t just appear with hard labour.

“Yeah, the ink is fading fast with all the friction hands go through.” Brian didn’t even attempt to joke about it. “And they’re healed now, slightly scarred, but I can paint, and tattoo. That wasn’t the end of it though.”

How did he even attempt to put it into words? Justin was at a loss, he stared at Brian, blue eyes startlingly bright in the darkness, he licked his dry lips, skin scraping over his tongue.

“I got hepatitis,” he blurted it out, not knowing any other way to broach the subject.

“Shit, Justin...Which?”

“B.”

Brian stood up and unsure why he’d moved, stalked to the jar of instant coffee and started to make himself a cup. “You’re lucky it wasn’t C,” he bit out, reeling at the information.

“It’s OK, you’re safe, Brian, if I still had–I wouldn’t have,” he shook his head, hair falling in front of his eyes, blocking out the view of Brian turning away from him.

“I’m protected against A and B, anyway.” Brian said, as he stared at the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

“I still wouldn’t, it was acute, I got over it within the allotted six months thanks to Bren’s intervention.”

“Good, ol' Bren,” Brian said scornfully.

Justin glared at his lover’s back, standing up and picking up the tattoo gun, banging it down on the work surface nearest Brian. “He saved me, why are you being like this? I didn’t put you at risk.”

Brian swilled around and clutched Justin’s upper arms painfully. “I know you didn’t, but you put yourself at risk. How could you do that? Didn’t I teach you anything?”

Justin shrugged him off, “You taught me all there is to know about safe sex and being a, fucking, asshole. A good start on my road to adulthood, yes, but getting hepatitis wasn’t about who I was fucking, this was about dirty needles and street living. Not even you could teach me about that.” He pushed the crude tattoo gun closer to Brian. “Go on, take a look, could I have learned that from you?”

“You’re, god damned, pathetic,” Brian ran his hand through his hair, “poor little Justin, lived on the streets. You had a home, you had somewhere to go, you just chose not to.”

Justin laughed, making his throat ache. “Yeah, all these people willing to take me in, but no where I could really call a home. You made me feel so–small, Brian, a convenient fuck and at the time I was willing to put up with that, if that meant I could be with you. But not now, not anymore, you don’t have the right to call me pathetic. That is one thing I have never been.” It had taken him a long time to believe that, but he finally did, and Brian’s outburst wasn’t going to change it. “Why the fuck do you keep coming back if I’m so ‘god damned pathetic’? Don’t you dare say you don’t know. I just laid myself bare to you, told you something I spend every hour trying to forget.”

“Maybe I did feel guilty, maybe I needed to make sure you’d done alright. Fuck, Justin, do you know how serious hepatitis is?”

“I think I, more than most, know how serious it is. I lived with it, unsure if I’d beat it, if I’d have to live with it inside me forever, always worrying I’d infect someone, worrying my liver would fail that I’d end up dead, that, because of the way I was living, I wouldn’t be able to fight it off.” he gulped, his throat closing around his words, “I still live with it.” Justin closed his eyes. “Cam is chronic, and you know what? It’s probably my fault.”

Brian’s head throbbed as he stared at the computer screen, scrolling down and consuming all the information he could about hepatitis B. He was a gay man, he knew the risks of unprotected sex and he knew to get vaccinated for the A and B strains, but he still didn’t know much about it.

No one talked about hepatitis like they talked about AIDS or HIV and he was as guilty as anyone for not knowing enough.

Justin said he didn’t have it anymore, and Brian believed him, knew that the blond wouldn’t put him at risk, but Brian didn’t know if it left Justin with any permanent damage and he couldn’t talk to him about it.

He needed to know more about it before he confronted Justin again, that’s if Justin would see him again. He hadn’t left on the best of terms, but he couldn’t deal with it, needed more background history so he could talk to Justin about this and not just shout.

Talk, Brian snorted to himself, unbelieving that he was even thinking about talking, but this was something that couldn’t be swept under the rug or made better by fucking. He never thought he’d see the day he would believe that.

He printed a particular page, wanting to go over it again, knowing he retained the information easier if it was on a printed page and not just on a monitor. He rolled his chair to the printer and waited impatiently for the paper to feed through.

He took a stapler, attaching the sheets in order and pulled a pencil out of the drawer, ready to make notes in the margins.

This was just like researching a new product, he would read all the information there was on the subject, he would make notes, even high light a few important passages. He would build the presentation up in his mind and hope that he hadn’t blown it with Justin and he would not think about the crude tattoo gun touching Justin’s skin. Just like a presentation.

There was a harsh bang on the door of his loft and he glared at it before ignoring it, going back to his papers. The banging refused to cease and Brian shoved the papers off his lap, sending them flying, and stomped over to the door, yanking it open.

It took him a moment to recognise the petite girl with curly hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Someone let me in,” she looked over her shoulder before turning back and straightening her shoulders.

“Daphne.” She’d grown up somewhat in the years since he’d seen her, she’d filled out, in what he was told, were all the right places. It didn’t look like she’d ever grown out of interfering in her best friend’s life, though.

“Brian.” Her tone was almost as cold as the frosty look she was giving him. He hadn’t even been aware that Justin was still in touch with Daphne, it made him realise how little he knew about the other man. “Can I come in?”

He stepped aside from her and shut the door. She looked around the loft, taking in the slight changes, he’d almost forgotten she’d been here before. She stopped in front of the papers on the floor and picked them up, glancing through them.

“You could have asked him about all this, you know. It would have saved a lot of time, ink, paper, and heartache.” She gave him the evil eye as he lounged on his sofa.

“Ask him about what? I didn’t know what to ask him, hence this.” He waved his arm towards the computer. “What is all this? Did Justin call you up and cry down the phone about how I treated him? Are you here to tell me what a complete asshole I am?” He said calmly, raising one eyebrow and smirking in that special way people expected of him.

“Asshole maybe, but this,” she rustles the papers at him, “proves you’re not a complete asshole.” She sat down next to him, placing the papers on his lap. “And Justin hasn’t cried in three years. I think, some things just go beyond tears.”

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence, Brian wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to talk, but what he did know was, it wouldn’t be with her.

“Why do you have to do everything the hard way? Couldn’t you have told him something, anything to make him believe you didn’t leave because of what he told you?”

“It was a shock, I didn’t go there prepared for that.”

“You were preparing for a good, long, hard fuck, huh? This was hard for him to talk about and you walked out on him.”

“I didn’t walk out, I just needed to sort it all out in my head.”

“What’s to sort out? It’s in the past, you weren’t involved, he only told you because he thought you should know, not so it would make you think differently of him.”

“I don’t think differently. And it’s none of your business anyway.”

“If you want another side of the story, by someone who was there, and probably doesn’t have such a jaded perspective of the whole thing, you should talk to Cam.” Daphne sighed when Brian didn’t answer and stood up. “Doesn’t look like I’m getting anywhere.” She walked to the door, sliding it open and almost walking into Michael. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, are you OK?” Mikey looked her up and down, frowning slightly. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” she looked over her shoulder at Brian, “think about what I said. He’s coming to town in a few weeks, four whole days in the Pitts.” She grinned wickedly, stepping around Michael, who stood between them; piggy in the middle.

“Oh?” Justin hadn’t mentioned that to him.

“He says not, but he’ll be here–he never could resist my charms.” She waved slightly and ran down the stairs.

“Who’s she talking about, Bri?” Mikey looked down the steps, as if they could give him some answers.

“No one,” he knew he sounded impatient, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Is your hot-shot client coming to town and you have to wine and dine him?” Mikey chuckled and shook his head. “It’s such a hard life for you. Is that why you have this weekend off, because he’s coming to town instead? Which, by the way, you could have told me about.”

“I might not be out of town on business, but I’m still researching.” Researching how to understand why his lover had done such a thing to himself, and what the long term problems would be. Or he would be researching if people didn’t keep interrupting him.

“I thought you were away on business,” Mikey grinned before flopping down on the sofa next to Brian.

Brian took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Sometimes he thought Justin had the right idea–get the fuck out while he still can–away from the claustrophobic circle of friends.

“I am working, Mikey, researching from the comfort of my own home.”

“You never told me, we could have gotten together, maybe we can go to Babylon tonight?”

“Don’t you have a husband and pseudo son at home to look after?”

“Who was the girl? Don’t tell me you’re turning hetro.” Mikey grinned at him. “She seems kind of familiar, have I met her before?” He searched his brain, trying to place her.

“Maybe she just has one of those faces.”

“I’ve met her, I just can’t place her…”

“She’s offering me some advice.”

“About your client?”
“Something like that.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, more like distortion of the truth. Still, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, he’d never lied to Mikey before. Evaded the truth, lied by omission, distorted the truth, but not down right lie.

It was just easier to lie to him right now, than to try and put into words what was happening, when he didn’t know himself.

Mikey snorted and leaned back. “She seems kinda young to be offering you advice. What about tonight? I don’t think one night out at Babylon will hurt them.”

“Then go, but I have things to do.” He tightened his grip on the papers in his hand.

“What’s that?” Mikey saw the papers and looked over, scanning the front page quickly.

“It’s confidential,” Brian folded them in half and stood up, putting them next to his computer and minimising the window. He was not going to tell Michael about Justin, his best friend felt threatened enough by the other man as it was, and Brian didn’t want Mikey pissing up his leg tonight. “And I have to get back to it, bye bye, Mikey.” He stood pointedly, waiting for him to get the message, and sighing when he could finally shut the door on his best friend.

***

“Sex isn’t a good form of pain management when it’s your job.” Cam shouted over the heavy beat of drums and guitar riffs. “I’m around porn, butt plugs, dildos and nipple clamps enough without wanting to go back to it for pain management.”

Bren laughed and leaned back on his stool. “You don’t drink, you don’t do drugs, how do you go about managing your pain?”

Cam shrugged and sipped at a bottle of water. “Maybe I don’t need to manage my pain anymore.”

“What about him?” They both looked into the direction of the mosh pit, noticing Justin’s blond hair standing out in a sea of black dye.

“Make sure he only tattoos other people at work.”

“You think I need to worry?”

“He opened his heart to the bastard and told him about how you found us, and the state he was in, the bastard ran off and hasn’t called all week. After all the shit he’s seen on the streets there’s still a part of him that’s shocked when people let him down.”

“Did Daphne call you? She’s still trying to get Justin to go home for a long weekend.”

“Yeah, she said she went to see Brian, didn’t look like it made much difference, she also told him to call me if he wanted a different view on what happened. He hasn’t done that either. Brian is an asshole, if you ask me, he deserves a good beating.”

“I didn’t ask you, Cam.” Cameron turned around, not realising Justin had left the mosh pit. “Don’t say anything. He hasn’t come because I refused to speak to him, I’m through with him, he can go find a new play thing. He’s out of my system and I don’t want to know anymore, OK?” His voice held a hint of desperation. “Now, get the fuck up and lets mosh.” He pulled Cam off the stool and dragged him to the dance floor.

Bren watched them from the sidelines, nursing a beer and frowning slightly. Maybe moshing was Justin’s form of pain management. Angry, painful, full of emotion, depending on the song and you could lose yourself in it.

Feeling suddenly motivated he downed the rest of the bottle and pushed himself off the stool, intent on joining his friends in managing their pain.

Drowsily, Cameron fell out of bed and into a semi clean pair of boxers. Still pulling them up over his hips he padded through the living room, cursing under his breath as the cold hit his bare skin.

He opened the door and couldn’t help smirking at the well dressed man on the other side. He pointed a finger and tutted, standing aside to let his friend’s lover inside. “You never called me.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” Brian took off his coat, and folded it over the back of the chair, very much a guest. He looked uncomfortable and Cam couldn’t help but feel pleased over it.

“Justin’s at work.”

“I know.” His admittance didn’t get past Cameron and he felt his anger softening slightly, only slightly though.

“So, what do you want to know? If Justin infected me, if he could have infected you, why he messed up his hands?”

“We’ll start with the hands.” Brian sat down and Cameron sat opposite, tucking his feet underneath himself.

“When you have everyone from all directions telling you you’re not worth anything you start to believe it. Family don’t want you, boyfriend doesn’t want you,” Cam lifted an eyebrow, warning the other man not to be flippant about the boyfriend comment. “The city doesn’t want you, and the other people that are like you are too busy with their own problems to even thinking about wanting you, and the people that do want you, only want you for one thing.”

“What are you saying?”

Cameron rolled his eyes, and spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child. “I’m saying, that, he started to believe it too, he wasn’t worth the air that he breathed, and what is more important than air to an artist? His hands. He didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve the art they created and they weren’t doing anything to help him anyway, were they?”

Cameron reached down, feeling around the base of the chair for the bottle of Cola he’d left there the night before. “I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, and Justin doesn’t blame you for it. If anyone is to blame it’s that mother of his for throwing out her kid. You don’t know how much anger he still feels over that, but he loves her, though I can’t see why.” Cameron shrugged, realising he was rambling a little too freely. “Can you understand why now?”

Brian leaned back, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, emotions churning in his stomach like the starting of a bad hangover. His own childhood hadn’t been a picnic, but he’d had Mikey, he’d had a refuge. What did Justin have, if he thought he couldn’t come home? Brian had never thought of it like that, he’d always thought Justin had been some stupid, stubborn kid who ran off to New York to play martyr and took it too far.

“I understand. He felt worthless, and that feeling didn’t come from the streets. “It came from him, Justin’s father and mother all planted the seeds to Justin’s breakdown. “And, did he infect you?”

Cam tipped his head back and laughed. “Is that what he told you?” He took a few gulps of Cola from the bottle. “Maybe, probably, fuck, who knows? And who cares. We were all taking risks out there every day, I could have had it before I met Justin, my immune system was shot to hell, whatever. He wouldn’t have put you at risk, Brian.” Cam was deadly serious now.

“I know, I just want to know how he could have been so careless…”

“It’s not like he got it because he was fucking without a condom, or one split, or he was doing drugs, this wasn’t about sex. When you take sex-ed at school no one mentions hepatitis and if they do, they don’t mention getting it from dirty guitar strings.” He leaned forward, eyes more serious than his laid back manner. “Do you know how hard it was for him to tell you about that?”

“He didn’t tell me, he gave me some fucked up demonstration.” Brian shuddered at the memory of Justin, so enthralled with that crude tattoo gun.

“And why did he do that? How would you tell a lover that didn’t believe in talking, only believed in actions? Could you sit down and have a heart to heart about it, or would you have to shock them into listening, show them through actions, what had happened? Make them listen…make them see?”

***

Justin flicked through the appointment book, glancing at the clock to see when his next client was due. He had five minutes to kill, and he took full advantage of them by making himself a strong cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette.

Steaming mug in hand, he walked over to the small waiting area and interrupted the one man there with his head buried in a magazine. “Fetch Dixon?” He asked and the man threw the magazine down, and screamed excitedly.

“Justin!” Emmett pulled the shocked blond into his arms. “It’s good to see you, baby.”

Justin laughed and hugged back. “You too, I had no idea…Fetch Dixon?”

Emmett nodded proudly. “My porn star name, you mean you’ve never heard of me?” He pouted slightly, but it was ruined by the huge smile plastered over his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“You didn’t have to book in for a tattoo to do that.”

“I wanted to! Who else would I get to tattoo me, but you? Do you know how long I had to wait for this appointment? You are one popular twink.”

“I know,” Justin winked and pulled Emmett into a cubicle in the back room. “So you really want a tattoo? You’re positively sure? Because I don’t want you to regret it.”

“I do, I have an idea, I want, a little fairy dancing in a sea of flames, on my arm here.” He pulled up his sleeve and pointed to the top of his arm.

Justin raised an eyebrow, “You want me to tattoo boobs to your arm?”

“A male fairy? With a nine inch cock?”

“A cock that will just deflate as you age,” Justin said dryly, sliding a piece of paper across the small table and starting to sketch quickly. “How about something like this?”

Emmett stood up and peered over his shoulder. “Oh my god, that is so good,” Justin carried on drawing, changing the colour of his pencils as he went, tinting the page.

Flickering flames grew from the page, in soft oranges and yellows, the lighter yellow inside of the flame creating a subtle crown.

“This is it, the tattoo of my dreams. Thank you, baby.” He bent down and kissed Justin’s cheek.

“Take the picture home, if you like it in a couple of months, I’ll tattoo you, but you need to think about it.” Justin was adamant that Emmett not do anything on the spur of the moment, only to regret it later.

“Well, if you say so…”

“I do, it’s another excuse for you to come visit me. So, how long you in town?”

“Just the night, so, what’s a fag to do in a town like this?”

“I can show you the scenes,” Justin grinned, “So, need anywhere to stay?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“So, tell me about the Pitts, what’s happening, what’s everyone doing?”

“Well,” Emmett rubbed his hands together, glad to be gossiping. “I’m a fabulous party planner still. Mikey has his comic book store, but you already knew that. Brian is barely around, he’s busy getting Kinnetik off the ground and he’s off every weekend drumming up clients, the back room is bare, I tell you. You need to come home for another visit, now the air is cleared, we can catch up properly. We really did miss you, sweetie.”

Justin smiled, somewhat awkwardly. Emmett was a great guy, and he’d enjoyed spending time with him and the others when he first came out, but they weren’t his friends, they were Brian’s friends and he was the kid he liked to fuck on occasions.

“I missed you too, Em. Anyway, as you’re my last client of the day, we can head off now, take your stuff back to mine and we can get ready to party. We can go to Diva, you’ll love it.”

Justin wasn’t paying attention as he let Emmett into the apartment. It took him a full thirty seconds before seeing the tall and brooding brunette sitting on the sofa. At the same time he noticed Brian, Emmett let out a shriek, making Justin’s ears ring.

“Brian?” Emmett exclaimed, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Brian stood, not liking the disadvantage of being lower than everyone else. Cameron sat where he was, happy to be a silent onlooker.

“Yeah, Brian, why are you here?” Justin’s face was void of emotion, eyes like ice chips.

“Why else would I be here? I came to see you.”
Unaware of the tension between the two men, Emmett gave Justin a Debbie-sized hug. “It’s amazing, to think that we both picked the same weekend to visit. Great minds and all that, hey, Brian?”

Brian didn’t answer, his eyes were fixed on Justin, who carefully disentangled himself from Emmett’s grasp.
“Amazing, right?” Outwardly Justin was calm, blank, but inside he was seething, because knowing, and actually *knowing* Brian hadn’t told his friends about his weekly visits were two different things. “Emmett tells me, you’ve been busy practically every weekend for the past month. What have you been doing? Were you with clients, drumming up business, or is that just what you told Mikey?”

“You mean…”Emmett’s voice trailed off when he realised he wasn’t witnessing the first reunion of Brian and Justin.

Justin looked over at his friend and nodded. “Yeah, I’m his dirty little secret.” Justin shook his head, unable to believe he’d fallen for Brian’s bullshit again. He went to walk away, but Brian grasped his arm and spun him around.

“You’re not my dirty little secret.”

“Emmett, is it? Nice to meet you, I’m Cam. You hungry?” Cam said to Emmett.

Justin struggled to get his arm free, stepping away from the older man, anger finally showing on his face. “What, the fuck, am I then?” When Brian didn’t answer, he carried on. “I’m not your friend, because we all know you don’t fuck friends. I’m not your lover because Brian Kinney doesn’t do relationships, and to earn the title of lover it has to be more than a roll in the hay. I’m not a friend, or a lover, so you don’t need to tell your friends about us, right? In my book, that makes me your dirty little secret.”

“Nice to meet you too, Cam, and I’m starving.” Emmett helped Cam up from the chair.

“You’re not my dirty little secret, stop saying that. The reason I didn’t tell this lot,” he waved his arm at Emmett, “Is because it’s none of their god-damned business.”

“Go home Brian, go back to your adoring fans and faceless fucks. I poured my soul out to you last week and you didn’t give a shit.”

“Let’s go out for dinner.” Cam didn’t want to witness this particular argument.

Brian stalked towards Justin, until they were face to face, almost touching, and Justin had to look up into Brian’s eyes. “You’re the guy I fuck more than once.”

“Don’t you need to get dressed first, Cam?” Emmett asked.

Cameron looked down and realised he was only in his boxers. “Oh, yeah, you can help me, let’s go.”

Justin grabbed Brian’s jacket from the back of the sofa and threw it at him. “ Not anymore, you can go back to your no repeats policy, because, believe me, if I’m just the guy you fuck more than once, I don’t want to know anymore. I can get a regular fuck else where and he won’t be half so much trouble as you are.”

“Fuck, Justin…this didn’t seem to bother you before. For the last month I’ve been coming over here and fucking your brains out.”

“Yeah, you were, and you know what else we did? We went out, we had dinner, you talked to me like an equal and just when I decide I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us, or any barriers when we were in bed, you bolt.”

“I had to sort it out in my own head, before I could soothe yours.” Brian ran a hand through his hair impatiently.

“I wanted to touch you without leather gloves between us. But I didn’t want to do that during sex and for you to stop, for the conversation to ruin the only thing we seem to be good at.”

“So you let me walk into your apartment while you’re making a tattoo gun, mutilating yourself, then you drop the bombshell of hepatitis and you don’t expect me to be freaked?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I couldn’t talk about it, that I couldn’t get my mouth around the words to just say it–that I had to take myself back to that dark place and show you because unspoken words, just weren’t enough? Though, if all I am to you is the guy you fuck more than once, I don’t know why I bothered.”

Brian paced slightly, his thoughts not allowing him to stay still like Justin. He span on his heels, facing Justin, mouth open to say something before shutting and opening again. “This is hard for me you know. The only other thing I’ve had even halfway resembling a relationship was with you when you were seventeen. Relationships are bullshit. Lovers end up hating each other and friends take advantage.” He started pacing again. “I don’t want that with you.”

“And you won’t get it. I’m not in this to beat you, I’m not in it because I want your genes and I’m not going to whine because you have a life outside my limited circle of friends.” Justin crossed his arms. “What you will get is my respect, but I want it in return.”

“You already do. I respect how you’ve come out of all this on top, but I’m scared of what could have happened, all the what ifs playing through my mind like a silent movie. I should have found you, saved you.”

“I don’t need you to save me, Brian, and I didn’t need you then. This isn’t about need. I want you, I actually like you, and I hope you feel the same.”

“Oh, I do…want me to prove it to you?”

Justin shook his head slowly. “Yeah, I do. But not like that. If you want sex right now, you can go find a trick.”

“Stay at mine.” He stopped pacing, making Justin jump a little.

“What?” Justin gave Brian a puzzled look.

“Stay at mine, when you visit Daphne, stay at the loft with me. I can guarantee you won’t be a secret. I can’t guarantee it won’t be dirty though.”

Cameron and Emmett slipped out of the front door unnoticed.

***

Diva was booming with gay men in an array of multicoloured clothes, grinding to the beat of popular dance music. It sounded wrong to Justin’s ears, and he didn’t recognise the song, even though it was recent.

This certainly wasn’t his scene anymore, but Emmett seemed to love it. Drag queens with big dresses and bigger hair danced on podiums in the middle of a revolving dance floor and scantily clad men sauntered around the crowd offering shots to anyone silly enough to pay their prices.

Emmett had two.

“This is a fantastic place.” Emmett shouted, clapping his hands to the beat.

They stood at the edge of the revolving dance floor, watching the men dance past them. Justin and Cam stood close to each other, unconsciously seeking each other out whilst in strange territory.

They stuck out like sore thumbs, the only men there to be heavily tattooed, and it gained them attention.

“Why haven’t you ever brought me here?” Brian asked, leaning down until his lips touched the shell of Justin’s ear.

“I wanted to show you *my* world. This is just showing the scene to Emmett.”

“Maybe you can show me the scene after we’ve had a dance.” Brian leered at Justin, but Justin just looked up.

“You can see the scene from here.”

A balcony stretched around the whole club, and Brian could just make out bare flesh upon bare flesh through the flicker of the lights. It made his dick go hard.

“Lets dance, Em.” Justin pulled him onto the dance floor, Cameron followed, laughing.

Justin looked over to Brian and nodded his head, “Coming?” He shouted as the dance floor rotated. He gave Brian the choice of dancing with friends or fucking some stranger on the balcony. It came as a surprise when Brian joined in with them, Justin was sure the temptation of a strange ass and strange fucking place would lure him away.

Maybe Brian was changing too.

Brian didn’t let Justin have time to think. He pulled him into the loft, his lips descending until they touched Justin’s. The blond dropped his backpack at their feet, hands trailing up Brian’s arms and clutching the back of his neck.

Worries about staying with Brian for the weekend flew from Justin’s mind the further Brian’s tongue plunged into his mouth. Brian slid the loft door shut as he pulled Justin further inside, then pushed him against the wall, nimble fingers working on the zipper of Justin’s jeans.

Justin helped Brian push his pants down his thighs, and lifted his arms as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. The older man paused slightly as he felt Justin’s hand against his, free of leather, naked.

He pulled his head back enough to look into his eyes. “No barriers.”

“None.” Justin nodded and flung his t-shirt aside, setting to work on Brian’s shirt, stroking his hands over bare chest as he went, palm brushing over erect nipple, making him shiver at the sensation.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex without wearing the gloves. His hands felt so sensitive the slight rub of nipple to hand sent electricity down his arm.

They made it to the bedroom as the last piece of clothing touched the floor. Justin pushed Brian, watching him fall back onto the pile of dark blue pillows piled high on silk sheets.

Brian’s chest was warm and smooth, slight hairs surrounding his nipples, tickling Justin’s hands. It was a good feeling. It was more than good. He trailed his hands downwards until coarse hair brushed his wrists.

All the nerve endings in his fingers were on fire, with each touch they ignited, sending blood to his cock. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to bear putting his gloves back on after this. It would be suffocating.

Slowly, taking his time, revelling in the feeling of it, he placed his hand against Brian’s cock. The heat moved down his fingers, making them grasp the shaft firmly, feeling the silken skin move against his roughened palms.

“Fuck,” Brian moaned.

“Skin on skin,” Justin said, rolling his eyes up to Brian’s, chuckling slightly as Brian’s head fell back as he tightened his grasp.

Justin’s other hand reached underneath, tracing Brian’s balls lightly, before cupping them and rolling. He leaned down, sucking the tip of Brian’s cock into his mouth, his tongue licking the smooth head in small circles.

Brian had never tasted so good to Justin, pre-come mixed with his saliva, and he moved his hand down the shaft harder, teasing him, wanting to taste him.

Slowly he hollowed his cheeks and sucked him into his mouth until the head of Brian’s cock touched the back of his throat. He closed his eyes, blond lashes touching cheek, his attention purely focused on the erection between his lips as he regulated his breathing, letting it slip further down his throat.

Hands pulled at his hair, pulling, pushing, knotting in silken stands until they were stuck together. Brian thrust forward, unable to stop his hips from moving. Justin gripped his hips, his fingernails digging into skin, leaving little half moon indentations.

He tightened his lips and pulled back, dragging his tongue up the base of Brian’s penis. Saliva stretched from the tip to Justin’s lips, and Justin followed the line back down, leaving tiny, infuriating kisses around the base of his cock, then up to his belly button.

He slowly climbed over the older man until their lips touched and Justin’s two favourite flavours mingled together.

Using one hand Brian flicked the cap off the lube and squeezed, uncaring that it squirted over his sheets. He wiped his hand in it and trailed his fingers down the crack of Justin’s ass.

Justin let go of Brian’s cock long enough to reach for a condom and roll it on him. They rolled until Justin was against the plush cushions and he lifted his legs over Brian’s shoulders, groaning as Brian pressed a finger inside him. He swivelled his fingers before pulling them out and looming over him, holding his hands above Justin’s head and threading their fingers, connecting them in more ways than one.

Justin’s breath hitched as Brian’s cock slowly entered him, filling him inch by inch. He gripped Brian’s hands, lube making their fingers slide together. “No barriers.” Brian moaned, he leaned down, pressing his forehead to the side of Justin’s neck, and let one of his hands go in favour of pulling Justin’s hips closer to his, trying to bury himself further inside.

Justin reached between them, grasping his own cock and moving in time to Brian’s hips. He saw stars as Brian angled his hips, dick brushing against his prostate, sending pleasure to every part of his body, so much pleasure Justin didn’t think he could contain himself, and he couldn’t. He came, spurting over his hand and Brian’s chest, and Brian carried on, unforgiving, touching his prostate with every short, deep thrust.

It was too much, Justin didn’t think he could take the pleasure, it pooled like liquid heat in his stomach, bursting forth painfully as Brian slammed into him one last time, screaming as he came, collapsing on top of him.

It took Brian a while to sum up the energy to roll off Justin and when he did, he only moved far enough to pull of the condom and pull him close. He stroked Justin’s arm absently, tracing the tattoos down to his wrist and grasped it gently. He brought Justin’s hand to his mouth, kissing his little finger and tasting the blond’s own come. He sucked each finger into his mouth, tasting, not just his essence, but the trust Justin had placed him.

He licked down the pad of Justin’s thumb, nibbling on the fleshy base before swirling his tongue over the palm, lapping up any stray semen and committing the new texture of Justin’s bare hands to memory.
***

Everyone assumed the heart of this weird bunch of friends was firmly in place at Debbie’s small terraced house, not much to look at, but love pouring out of every perfectly placed trinket. But it was the diner. It was where everyone gathered, it was where Debbie gave her best advice, and it was where everyone met up.

And it was the perfect place for Brian to take Justin so everyone knew where they stood. He pushed open the door and strode inside, sitting in his usual booth and smiling as Justin slid in beside him.

They were early, and he was glad. He wanted Justin firmly in place, like he’d never left.

Debbie saw the blond head next to Brian’s and practically ran over. “Sunshine!” She popped her gum and squeezed in next to them, giving Justin a huge hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Oh, he came alright.” Brian pushed his tongue into his cheek and smirked at her.

“Jesus Christ. You two?” Justin nodded. “You’re like Romeo and Juliet with all this, fucking, sneaking around.”

“Only with a better ending,” Brian said, making Justin’s heart jump. “Now, can we get some breakfast here, we need to keep our strength up.”

“Coming right up. Usual for you?” Brian nodded and Debbie scribbled on her bad. “How about you? No, let me surprise you, on me, it’s good to see you kiddo.” She ruffled his hair and was off like a shot.

“Well, that was painless,” Brian said with a trademark smirk.

Justin slapped him slightly, “It wasn’t you she nearly squeezed to death.”

There was a slight tension in the air, and Brian knew it was because he was about to confront Mikey about his relationship with Justin. He frowned at his own thoughts, wondering when it had gotten to this stage. Surely Mikey should be happy for him. Happy he was admitting to a, somewhat, unconventional relationship with Justin, but a relationship just the same.

The bell rang and Brian knew it was Mikey. He was in an animated conversation with Hunter, who managed to roll his eyes at least five times and look suitably bored before sliding into their booth.

Mikey’s voice trailed off as he saw Justin. “Justin…Hey, I didn’t realise you were back in town.”

“I’m visiting Daphne.” He gave Mikey a wide, innocent smile. “She was miffed she missed me last time I visited.”

“That’s nice. Ma, can we order over here?”

“It is nice of me, isn’t it Brian?” Justin turned to his lover, eyes bright, teasing.

Brian stirred more sugar into his coffee and nodded. “It’s very nice of you Justin. You’re an all round nice guy.”

“If you’re here to see this, Daphne, why the fuck are you here?” Hunter demanded, not liking this change in family dynamics.

“Why the *fuck* am I here Brian?”

“Maybe because he’s the guy I fuck more than once.”

Mikey was about to call out to his mother again when he caught Brian’s words, mouth hanging wide open he turned to Brian with a puzzled expression on his face. “What was that?” He must have heard wrong. No way could those guys work so fast.

Justin leaned across the table. “He said, I’m the guy he fucks more than once.”

“Huh, you’ve been back, what, less than twenty four hours and you’ve already fucked? What happened to letting the loft get burgled, to running off to New York and not getting in touch?”

“Those are old hurts, we over came them sometime in the last month, right?”

Justin nodded. “Right.”

“I don’t understand.”

Hunter snorted and looked over at Mikey. “What’s to understand? Brian’s been in having it away in New York instead of meeting with clients.” Hunter said plainly, waiting for Michael to get a clue.

Emmett chose that moment to enter the diner, and upon seeing Justin let out a high pitched screech. “Baby, I didn’t realise you were coming down this weekend.”

Justin slipped out of the booth to give Emmett a hug. “Brian and Daphne finally managed to wear me down.”

“Well, I’m glad, it’s good to see you there again, like old times, only better.” They sat back down and Emmett pressed a loud kiss to Justin’s cheek. “So tell me how that delicious roommate is of yours?”

“He’s fine, told me to tell you that anytime you’re in New York he’d be happy to share his bed with you again.”

Emmett placed his hands on his heart. “Aw, he is such the sweetest guy.”

“Hold on, am I totally out of the loop here, when did you visit Justin?”

Emmett frowned and gave Michael a puzzled look. “I told you sweetie. I said I was going to get a tattoo by the best tattooing twink in America.” Emmett sighed. “You were probably too busy ogling your husband or spanking your son here to notice what little old me was saying.”

Brian clutched the tiny hand of his son as they crossed the road. The two adults were content to listen to his childish chatter until they reached the park.

Brian knew this would change once Gus was distracted by the adventure climbing frame. Michael would not be able to keep his mouth shut. He’d say it was the Italian Drag Queen in him, but Brian knew it was a Debbie thing, neither could keep their traps shut.

As they reached the park Gus pulled away from him, running as fast as his little legs would carry him over the grass and woodchips, to the slide. “So,” Mikey started, “You’ve been visiting Justin all this time and you never told me?”

Brian shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. Outwardly calm, as if this conversation wasn’t important. “You’re not my mother, Mikey, and I am a big boy.”

“I am your best friend though, it hurts that you kept it from me.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to jinx it before it had even started. You know what this fucking family is like; no one can keep out of anyone’s business.” And Mikey was the worst. Brian hadn’t noticed it until recently; he’d probably even revelled in the attention, but not anymore.

He was a grown man, and grown men had friends, even friends they’d had since childhood, but unlike the two of them, most men had grown out of the ‘best’ stage long ago.

“You’ve been visiting practically every weekend, it just doesn’t seem, I don’t know, very Brian-like.”

Brian raised an eyebrow and took one eye off his son to look at his best friend, trying not to seem offended. “And what is Brian-like?”

“Being an asshole, only thinking of himself, no regrets, no repeats, no boyfriends.”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty much like me, but who did that change for? I’m not saying I want a monogamous relationship, I’m not saying we have much of a relationship at all, but we have something, and no matter what it is, it’s ours and we both want it.”

This must be the longest conversation they’d had in a long time, Brian briefly wondered when they had turned to superficial banter and couldn’t remember.

Mikey nodded. “I understand, you deserve to be happy. But I still don’t get it. How did one seventeen year old twink change it for you? I mean, he’s not even your type.”

“Isn’t he? Maybe he is my type and all the others aren’t. He’s the only one still around after all.” It had taken Brian a long time to admit it. He’d often wondered why he found Justin so appealing, wondered why he kept going back for more, he’d finally acknowledged the truth after Justin returned and Brian found himself seeking him out. The tricks were eye candy, good to look at, good to taste, but you didn’t want more than one of the same kind, and they were forgotten soon after.

Justin had an inner strength, even at seventeen, an inner beauty that complemented his delicate frame and blond hair, blue eyed good looks. Even now, with the tattoos, and the harsh life reflected in his eyes he was innocent and beautiful in a way Brian had never been and never could be.

“Daddy, push me!” Gus called as he climbed onto the swings. Brian walked over, Mikey slowly following.

“Sit down properly Gus,” he said before gently pushing his son, watching as Gus pushed out his legs, trying to touch the sky with his toes.

“It’s kinda funny really, Brian Kinney, choosing brain over brawn.”

Brian smirked. “Justin may be compact, but he’s very easy on the eye.” Mikey was beginning to get on his nerves, he shouldn’t have to explain his actions. “Is it so foreign to you that I’d choose Justin or are you pissed off that I didn’t choose another, small compact man to try my relationship skills on?” He raised an eyebrow and turned to Mikey, noticing the slight blush cover his cheeks.

“Maybe once I might have thought that. Not anymore though, you’d be too hard to keep up with, I’d have to be on my toes 24/7. I love what I have with Ben and Hunter.” He paused slightly, cocking his head to the side. “Justin isn’t that much older than Hunter. He was still a kid when you first fucked him, what could a seventeen year old and a thirty year old--.”

“Twenty nine.”

“Twenty nine year old man, have in common?”

Brian looked down at his son, happily swinging back and forth, totally unaware of the conversation going on above him. Justin had come into his life the same night as Gus, and no matter how much Brian shrugged it off as unimportant, part of him thought there must be more to it than that.

“Apart from the, fucking, fantastic sex, you mean?”

Mikey nodded, “Yeah, apart from that.”

“He’s intelligent, he has his own opinions. We drink beer and smoke cigarettes, we can be loud, drunk, and talk about utter crap, or we can talk intellectually, he knows about art, he likes old Cary Grant movies, though don’t ask me why, and he’s strong. Age doesn’t come into it. Is that enough of a reason?”

“I suppose it is. I’m not trying to put a damper on things or anything. I just don’t want you to get hurt. We’ve been friends too long for me not to interrogate the boyfriend.”

Brian groaned and bumped his shoulder to Mikey’s. “I hate that word, never use it again.”

“What should I use then? Partner, lover, other half?” Mikey laughed.

“Why do you have to call it anything?”

***

Molly looked wide eyed as Justin carefully drew a Celtic pattern on her upper arm in henna. He chuckled slightly to himself, he’d never seen his sister so quiet. The thick paste came out of the paper funnel in small, smooth lines, marking the skin perfectly. He kept the design simple and delicate.

Henna didn’t allow for different shadings like tattoos did, but he was pretty sure Molly would be happy with the end result, and his mom would be happy that it wouldn’t last.

“So, how long do I have to stay still like this?” Daphne asked, holding her hands stiffly. Justin looked up from Molly’s arm. “At least thirty minutes. Don’t smudge it.”

Daphne had gone for the more traditional hand patterns, wanting to show off the designs on their night out, but if she wasn’t careful she’d end up with a large brown splodge instead.

“My friends are gonna be so jealous.” Molly said happily.

Daphne went to pick up a cushion, wanting to get comfier on the hard floor. “Don’t you dare get henna over one of Brian’s cushions. And get your butt back onto the newspaper.” She rolled here eyes and shuffled back onto the paper Justin had placed all over the floor in the loft.

“So, is it serious with you and Brian?”

Justin concentrated on his work, uncomfortable talking about this in front of Molly. “We’re friends.”

“With benefits?” She smirked and blew on her hands, trying to dry the henna.

“What’s a friend with benefits?” Molly asked. Justin sent Daphne an evil glare.

“Yes Daph, what is a friend with benefits?” He smiled sweetly, blue eyes twinkling.

“It’s what two adults are before they decide to be boyfriend and girlfriend, or in your brother’s case, boyfriend and boyfriend.”

“Will people stop using that awful word,” Brian said as he walked through the front door. “Especially when in reference to me.”

“Or me. We’re not five years old.” Their eyes met briefly and they smiled.

“Then…what do I call you?” Daphne frowned.

“Why do you have to call them anything?” Michael said, with a slight smile in Brian’s direction.

“We’re not lesbians,” Brian added.

“Thank god. There you go, Mol. All done, but be careful not to smudge it.”

“What are you doing? This is nothing like the makeover parties Emmett made us have when we were roommates.”

“It’s henna. You want one?” Justin waved the tube in front of Michael, happy that Brian’s best friend was at least attempting to be pleasant.

“I don’t think so…I think flowers and swirls will ruin my big butch image.”

“Oh go on, Mikey, I’m sure Ben will find it hot.” Brian smirked and flopped onto the sofa, away from the newspaper.

“I promise not to draw anything too butch for you.” Justin bit the corner of his lip to stop from laughing and was surprised when Mikey relented and took off his jumper.

“Just a small one then…it’s not permanent is it?”

“No, they fade after a couple of weeks. Promise.” Justin went to work quickly, worried he might change his mind.

“What are you doing?”

“Stop moving, or you’ll just have a blob.”

Within five minutes a crude pasted on image of the Superman symbol appeared. “Superman! See, Brian?” Mikey showed him his arm before battling with Molly for the hand held mirror to get a better look. “It’s my turn now, you’ve had it for ages.”

“It’s my mirror.” Molly pouted and held on for dear life.

Justin ignored them and started to clear away their mess. “In about thirty minutes you can pick it off, and you’ll be left with a dark yellowish design.”

“And then we’ll get ready for the ball.” Daphne said, obviously excited to have Justin back like old times.

Brian pulled Justin’s jeans up over his thighs, buttoning them from behind. “Never thought I’d see the day when you were actually dressing me.” Justin watched him through the full length mirror, eyes on his talented fingers as they slowly did up the buttons, purposely pressing against his crotch, making him hard again. He scowled into the mirror, eyes linking with Brian’s through the glass. “Why’d I say I’d go again?”

Brian squeezed Justin’s shoulders and smirked. “Because Daph piled on the guilt and went behind your back with Bren.”

Justin threaded his fingers through his hair, tweaking the ends slightly, and wondering briefly if dying his hair purple would be a good idea. “Oh yeah.”

“You look hot.” Brian peered at him through the glass, resting his chin on Justin’s shoulder. “Even with all the war paint.” Brian slid a hand underneath Justin’s t-shirt, tugging at the frayed hem.

“War paint gives you strength.” He would show all of Daphne’s friends that he was his own man, that he was comfortable with what he was, and even if he hadn’t finished high school, he was still as successful as they were.

He turned in Brian’s arms, lips so close to his that he could feel the other man’s breath. He leaned forward, closing the distance, just as the buzzer rang. He groaned in dismay, letting Brian’s mouth swallow the noise, before another long, angry buzz had him hurrying quickly outside to his friend.

Daphne was bouncing excitedly from one foot to the other, shivering in her little black dress. “You look great.” He said and spun her around.

She chuckled and punched him in the arm. “It’s always safe to go with a classic…unless it’s not safe you want to go for.” She raised an eyebrow at him, taking in the slashed black wife-beater and low rise jeans.

“This is safe.” He opened his arms, and looked down at himself before pushing Daphne towards her car. “Come on, you’re going to keep me waiting all night? We’ll be late.”

***

The room was full to overflowing with vaguely familiar faces. It took Justin a few minutes to add the extra years onto the faces he had filed away in his brain under St James Academy.

Why he’d let Daphne drag him hear he didn’t know. Everyone had dressed up, girls in fancy black dresses, or terrible pink, outdated prom dresses and boys in sedate black tuxes, like little sheep lined up for the slaughter house.

As unofficial, celebratory, ‘we’ve almost finished’ College balls went, this one was lame. Expensive, glitzy and utterly fake, a band played, but it wasn’t the kind of band he was used to, they were sallow and looked tired, playing in slow motion, the noise the stringed instruments were making were almost enough to send him back to string tattooing.

Daphne clutched his arm, her eyes busily searching the crowd for the people she was closest to at school. She had to make some friends when he didn’t return, Justin thought, though he didn’t have to like who she’d befriended.

“Mandy? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in months!” Daphne said, pulling away from Justin and hugging a girl Justin remembered sitting behind in Maths. She stared at him over Daphne’s shoulder, eyes widening in shock and then recognition. She pulled away from Daphne slowly, her eyes never leaving him.

“Justin Taylor?” She stepped closer, as if he were a specimen in their high school lab, disgusted yet attracted at the same time. “Daphne said you were coming, but I didn’t quite believe her…”

Justin smirked and resisted rolling his eyes. “Well, here I am, one and the same.”

“Hardly the same, we all wondered where you disappeared too. Everyone said your dad kicked you out because you were gay.”

“I ran off to become a pole dancer,” he said dryly enjoying her expression.

“That’s nice,” she forced a smile, “It’s great to see what everyone is up to now and, what are you up to now? Did you manage to finish school?”

“Oh no, school and pole dancing didn’t leave me enough time for fucking, so, something had to give.”

A smile froze on Mandy’s face, seeing the dilemma Daphne chuckled, trying to break the ice. “You’re so funny, Justin. He hasn’t pole danced a day in his life. He’s a tattoo artist.” She sounded proud of him, and Justin felt guilty for being such an ass.

“It’s amazing what you can do without a high school education.” The voice was deep, holding a lingering taste of menace. Justin turned to face the owner of the voice, images of beatings, taunting and blow jobs racing through his mind.

“Chris.” Justin said with false happiness.

“Got AIDS yet?” Chris chuckled, and Justin was transported back to school and he realised these people hadn’t grown up in the three years they were at college.

“Have *you* got AIDS?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chris’ cheeks took on a red hue, his eyes narrowing in anger, he hadn’t expected Justin to fight back, but Justin wasn’t a weak little faggot anymore, he wasn’t scared of the school jock.

Justin shrugged calmly, uncaring as people started to surround them. “We all know it’s the closeted cases who get that desperate for a dick up their ass that they forget to use a condom,” Justin smiled brightly, refusing to show the anger that was simmering just below the surface. He turned to Daphne and took her hand. “Let’s dance.”

The band started to play a watered down version of Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer, and Justin winced at the cheesiness of it all. The life and soul of the band was completely absent, it reflected that of the people here, only to mingle with school friends, just so they could brag to each other about how successful they were.

He danced, drank too much and disappeared for cigarettes, the stares, whispers and disgust following him as he went. Having lost Daphne almost half an hour ago Justin moved through the crowd, searching for her curly hair and infectious laugh.

He found her on the dance floor dancing to a song he vaguely recognised, stepping behind her he pulled her against his crotch, moving in time to the music. She turned in his arms, tipping back her head and laughing. “I love this song.”

“I hate this fucking song.” He grinned and pulled her in tight, finding a rhythm to the somewhat lack lustre song.

“I can do something about that.” A voice whispered in his ear, Justin let go of Daphne and whipped around, heart beating in his mouth as he stared at a well defined chest covered in expensive cotton.

He stepped back as the band started to play a song he didn’t recognise, he took his time looking over the impressive body covered in an expensive tux, oh so, different from every man here. His eyes lingered over the silk scarf caressing softly tanned skin before following the sculptured line of his jaw, up over his cheekbones before falling into pale hazel eyes.

He suddenly felt nervous, tongue tied, he didn’t know how to respond to this, couldn’t even believe Brian had turned up without him asking. It was a side to Brian he hadn’t seen before, one he wasn’t sure how to deal with.

But deal with it or not, he couldn’t help but be pleased as Brian stood there looking more impressive than he did the first time they met. He was tall, strong and totally comfortable in his own skin. He smiled and pulled Justin against him and it was if a breath of life blew over the band, the singer’s voice caressed them softly, the beat moving in time with them.

And Justin wasn’t nervous anymore.

“What are you doing here?”

He pulled Justin closer, hand on hip, groin to groin and leaned in until his lips touched the shell of Justin’s ear. “I thought we’d give the stuck up little breeders something to salivate over.”

“The breeders aren’t the only ones who’re salivating.” Justin brushed his lips against Brian’s jaw, slight stubble making them tingle. Brian soothed his tender lips with his own, tongue dipping inside the caverns of his mouth, finding out just how true Justin’s words were.

The song ended too quickly, but Justin was on a high and nothing was going to spoil it. Brian let himself get dragged to the dance floor by Daphne, but no one was as interested in them dancing as they had been with Justin and Brian.

Mandy sidled up to Justin, fanning herself slightly. “That was some dance. Not sure if it was appropriate, but I can’t deny it was some dance,” she laughed falsely, “Chris says that you were with that guy when we were at school.”

Justin smirked inwardly, it was nice to know Chris had paid that much attention to him. “On and off.” He walked away, ordering a shot from the bar and downing it quickly.

Mandy followed him. “He’s a lot older than us.”

“And you should see the size of his cock.”

She blushed and sighed irritably. “I’m just trying to make conversation. We went to the same school–for a while anyway.”

“Until I dropped out to become a tattooing pole dancer.”

Brian followed him to the bar, Daphne bouncing at his heels, grinning from ear to ear. “That dance was so hot.”

“That was tame.” Justin said, smirking. She hit him playfully.

“Not our dance, I mean you and Brian.”

“And on that note, I’m leaving. It’s just too much excitement for one night. You coming, Justin?”

Justin looked at Daphne, eyes questioning. She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh go on, I know you’re hating every second of it here, and I bet you two wanna fuck like bunnies. It really is like old times.” She pulled Justin down for a hug and kissed him on the lips. “Call me tomorrow.”

They exited the room quietly, the cool air making Justin shiver. Brian put his silk scarf around his neck, making him laugh softly. “It goes so well with my outfit.”

“I’d fuck you.” Brian kissed him. “Wait here and I’ll bring the car round.”

He couldn’t stop smiling as he waited for Brian, bouncing slightly from foot to foot, unable to keep still, and it had nothing to do with the cold. He heard the jeep and, his cock hardening at the thought of finally being alone with Brian.

Brian honked his horn, making Justin turn just in time to see a sliver of skin and smooth grain of wood.

The wood and skin blurred together as it descended, Justin only had time to close his eyes before the cool wood crashed into his.

His head cracked against the sidewalk as he fell backwards from the blow. His brow throbbed painfully, and blood filled his mouth, metallic and bitter. He spat it out, feeling it dribble against his chin as he tried to get back to his feet.

He was pushed back down again by cruel hands and steel toe capped boots kicked the air out of his lungs, leaving him gasping. The sky blurred in front of his eyes and the figure hovered over him, features hazy as he sat on Justin’s chest, trapping his arms at his sides, as the man started to root through his pockets.

Justin started to struggle again, kicking his legs up, trying to knee him in the back and dislodge him before he found the small plastic card in his inner pocket.

It started to rain as fingers found the lone credit card and pulled it out, holding it towards the sky and laughing. Justin had one last burst of energy, knowing he couldn’t let him get away with that and grabbed for the man’s wrists, trying to get to the card. But he only stood up, laughing harder, pushing Justin away.

Justin clawed at the man’s jumper, trying to pull him off his feet, but he was weak
from the blow and his fingers wouldn’t grip properly.

“You want some of me, huh?”

Justin knew he’d made a mistake, should have let him run off into the night and away from him. He’d be without Brian’s credit card and he’d ache for a day or two, but it would better than looking into the manic eyes of his attacker.

He was pushed into a dark alley way and he tried to get away, but he had no strength left, his head throbbed painfully and his ribs jarred with each breath he took.

“You like getting roughed up, don’t ya?”

Justin was afraid to talk, unsure of what he could say to stop the man’s bruising grasp closing his airway as his other hand reached for his pants. He had to stop that hand reaching inside.

“Stop,” he croaked, “take the card and go.”

But his attacker only laughed and pushed him against the wall again.

“You like blond boy ass?” A strange voice asked. “Then you pay for it. $150 dollars to fuck or $100 for a blow job.”

Bile rose in Justin’s throat and he struggled, hoping the man would let him go, that he could get away from both of them. He’d call Brian, forget his pride, he’d call him and grovel for not setting the alarm on the loft, he’d do all of these things if he could just get away from them.

“You want me to pay, man?” He held on to Justin tightly, one hand still holding onto his jeans. Justin could barely see the other man in the darkness.

“You pay him, just like you pay every other guy on the streets, got it?”

The conversation was surreal, Justin couldn’t believe what he was hearing and when his attacker threw a handful of crumpled notes at the newcomer Justin struggled again.

“Ain’t no use struggling, little man.” He was turned around, cheek pressed against rough brick.

“Not without a fucking condom.” The stranger threw his attacker a small foil packet and a half used tube of lubrication.

“Not, fucking, at all.” Justin said, twisting half way around, trying to push him away.

“I can take my money back, man, can take this for free and then where will ya’ be, huh? It’s your choice.”

But it wasn’t a choice at all. “The $150 is mine, he doesn’t get a cent.” Justin glared at the newcomer and was surprised as he came over, pressing the damp bills into his hand.

Fingers took their time pushing down his boxers and opening him up. Justin concentrated on the money in his hand and how he would never plead with God, or anyone, ever again to come to his rescue, because pleading didn’t work. No miracle suddenly occurred take him away from this, and as the latex covered cock found his ass he knew he could never call Brian.

The stranger didn’t last long, and it wasn’t so bad, barely even hurt. Not pleasure, nor pain, and minutes later he disappeared into the darkness, leaving Justin to pull up his pants and lean wearily against the wall.

It was a relief really, because now he had more than just a half full sketch book and a few blunt pencils. He had $150s, whereas before he had none. Money eased guilt and conscience alike.

He felt numb and he almost forgot the other man, flinching when he pulled a tissue from his back pocket and wiped the blood still seeping from Justin’s split lip. “Fuck off.” Justin was so tired, he just wanted to be left alone, to curl up in the nearest doorway and block out the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry.”

“ Right,” Justin said, his throat sore. “You could have helped me,” Justin spat out, he couldn’t even bare to look at him. He was so angry with this man all of a sudden, angry because he’d opened the doorway to another life, one he didn’t want, had never thought of before and instead of feeling disgusted he felt–safe.

“I did help you.”

“How? By telling him he had to pay me? How fucked up is that? Especially as he’s fucked off with my credit card in his pocket.” The words were coming out of his mouth, but they were empty, just sounds vibrating through the air aimlessly, falling on ears that didn’t believe it anymore than he did.

“He can get cash anywhere, but a credit card means a luxurious, dry place to sleep for a night or too. Easy pickings.”

“Honour among thieves?” Justin said bitterly, moving away slightly as the other man leaned next to him.

“If you like. You just gotta know how to play the game, make it work for you.”

“Make it work for me? How the fuck did that help me?” It put $150 in his pocket, but he didn’t mention that.

The stranger was suddenly standing in front of Justin, hand gripping his shoulder, face so close to Justin’s he now got a good look at him. Young, though not as young as him, with the eyes of an eighty year old, jaded and tired. The rain had turned his hair to frizz and droplets rolled down his cheeks like false tears. “You make them pay for it before they can take it for free.”

Justin didn’t need to be told he was talking from experience.

“Look, we all meet up in a café around about now, come with me. It’s safe.”

Justin removed the man’s hand once he realised he wasn’t going to get violent. “No thanks, I don’t like your kind of *safe*.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry OK, sorry it had to be like that, but you don’t antagonise guys like him. This way, at least you’re left with something.” He left quickly leaving Justin alone.

He laughed, slowly opening his palm and looking at the crumpled bills.

His empty pocket lay heavily against his heart as he watched the rain soak into the bills, he was trying to do his best not to panic, and the money helped ease it some, he just didn’t think about what he’d done to get it.

Bile finally resurfaced, spurting up into his throat, burning his mouth as he leaned over and retched, one hand holding the wall and the other holding his sore ribs. Blood and stomach acids flew out of his mouth in thick strings, hanging from his lips, pooling on the cold slabs beneath him.

The fine rain drizzled overhead, seeping into his clothes and settling on his hair, when he stopped heaving he began to shiver, stumbling further into the alley, trying to look for more shelter.

Losing the credit card wasn’t about the money, it never was, it was about Brian using the credit card to find him, how could Brian find him if he wasn’t the one using his card?

Blood stained Brian’s cheeks where he’d rubbed the silent tears away. Blood covered his hands and the scarf he clutched. He couldn’t stand to wash it off, to wash part of Justin away and watch it disappear down the plug hole.

The corridor was almost empty. A TV sat mutely in one corner, something for visitors to do when they weren’t allowed in with the patient.

That was how Mikey found him and it was the first time he’d ever seen Brian cry. Not when his father used to beat him and not when his father died had he shown so much emotion.

Mikey didn’t know what to say, or how to deal with this. Brian was usually so strong. He hovered slightly in front of him, taking in the horror of all the blood covering his best friend.

Eventually deciding to sit next to him he placed his hand on Brian’s knee. “How is he?”

Brian closed his eyes and the tears fell into the crease of his mouth and down his chin. “I don’t know.” His voice was rough and cracked in a few places, the way it does when it’s just too hard to speak.

“You should have called me here earlier, I could have helped…” Mikey shook his head then leaned in and pressed a kiss to Brian’s cheek. He didn’t know how he could help with this, but he would try now. Mikey tasted the slight metallic tang of Justin’s blood and resisted the urge to wipe it from his mouth, not wanting Brian to see him do it.

A man Mikey had never met ran towards them, and he couldn’t help hoping that he was just running past, to some other crisis, but he stopped in front of Brian, jerking him out of his trance, until Brian stood.

Green eyes stared widely at Brian, glistening with tears yet to fall. He pushed at Brian’s shoulders angrily, making Mikey stand suddenly, ready to jump to his defence.

“Why the fuck didn’t you call me?” He pushed Brian again and Mikey moved closer, reaching out, and was unprepared for the change in action as the man, who was obviously Justin’s friend, pulled Brian into his arms and held on tightly.

What shocked Mikey even more was, Brian’s arms slowly curving around his shoulders and holding back.

Mikey felt uncomfortable, as if he should be the one comforting Brian, only he didn’t know how, couldn’t make that last move from a gentle touch to a tight, painful hug that showed he cared more than any words could. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t think he deserved it, he’d been a bastard to Justin, it was almost as if fate were getting back at him.

“I couldn’t stop it.” Brian’s words were muffled into the stranger’s shoulders.

Mikey hovered behind, feeling somewhat left out, and feeling guilty for feeling left out, this wasn’t about him and he had no right to feel jealous of the contact Brian was showing someone who was little more than stranger.

“It’s not your fault.” The man whispered back, mouth pressed to Brian’s ear.

The two men sat down, hands still gripping, as if their contact would give Justin strength to fight this. Mikey hoped it helped, couldn’t even understand how so much blood could have come from someone so small.

Mikey sat down opposite them and he watched them, united in their love for the twink that just wouldn’t go away, even when he did go away he was still there. For the first time he realised Brian had a life outside of their group of friends, he’d always thought it was less than what they had, but it was just as valid, meant just as much to him.

He tried not to think about it as growing apart, just growing up.

“This is Cam.” Brian said softly, breaking the silence, and suddenly Mikey didn’t feel left out anymore.

He gave Cam a sad smile. “Mikey.”

Another man walked down the corridor, steps slow and precise, Mikey looked towards him and knew this was another of Justin’s friends. Tattoos crawled up his arms making him look menacing, but he could see the pallor beneath the bright ink.

Brian looked up at him and the tears rolled down his cheeks again. “There was so much blood…” He looked down at the scarf clutched in one hand, the blood drying into a dark maroon.

“Has anyone called his mom?”

Brian shook his head, not taking his eyes away from the scarf.

“Isn’t she called automatically?” Mikey spoke up. He didn’t want the older man to blame Brian for anything.

Cam shook his head. “I’m his emergency contact.” Brian looked towards him, surprised. “Think he wanted his mom finding him if something happened on the streets?”

“Someone should call her. And Brian needs to get a change of clothes.”

“Bren…” Cam started.

“Justin’s mother can’t see him like that…” He pointed towards Brian, face covered in blood that refused to dry because of the tears that kept falling and the white of his tux splattered horrifyingly with Justin’s blood.

“I can’t–” Brian started and looked at Bren, seeing his eyes soften.

“It’s not going to make a difference to his recovery if you wash the blood away, or change into something else.”

Brian closed his eyes and Mikey was shocked at how well the older man seemed to know what Brian was thinking.

“Give this guy your key and he’ll get you a change of clothes.”

Mikey bristled at his words, but understood the need for different clothes, he couldn’t imagine what Jen would go through if she saw Brian, covered in her son’s blood. “I already have a key. I’ll try to get hold of his mom on the way, too.”

He pressed a kiss to Brian’s mouth and left the hospital, slightly relieved at having something to do.

***

Mikey came back, running at the heels of Jennifer Taylor.

“Shit, Mikey, you weren’t meant to bring her.” Cam stood up and took the pile of clothes from Mikey’s hand.

“I phoned her after leaving Brian’s loft, she insisted on coming with me.”

“What happened to my son? Where’s the doctor?”

Brian stood, eyes haunted by images of a baseball bat hitting flesh, his lover’s blood warming the cold cement. Jen’s eyes widened as she looked Brian up and down, and she would have stumbled if Bren hadn’t steadied him.

She put a hand to her mouth and sobbed. “What happened? Get me a doctor, I want to see my son!”

Brian licked at his dry lips. “They’re still operating. Something about draining the blood away from his brain.”

Jen sank into a chair, her hands shaking. “Drain blood away? Hasn’t he lost enough already?”

Bren squeezed her shoulder, trying to give her some kind of comfort, she was Justin’s mother after all and Justin loved her. “I’ll go find a doctor to talk to you.”

He came back minutes later with a doctor. “Mrs Taylor?” She stood, looking hopefully at the man who looked too young to be a surgeon.

Brian couldn’t look at them. He stared numbly at the TV until the images flickered into something familiar. His heart missed a beat and he slowly walked over to it, reaching up to turn the volume up.

“I’m sorry sir, that has to stay on mute.” The doctor called over Jen’s shoulders.

Brian didn’t listen, he watched wide eyed as the local news reporter turned and looked directly at him.

“…ictim of a hate crime? Justin Taylor is a minor celebrity among the tattoo circle, both here in Pittsburgh and in New York. After attending a school reunion one of his old classmates, who cannot be named for legal reasons, attacked him with a baseball bat. The ex-hustler who clawed his way from the streets to become a recognised Tattoo Artist is still in a critical condition...”

Blood roared in Brian’s ears, she had to be wrong. She just had to be. He turned to Cam, whose worried look confirmed it for him. “Tell me it’s not true.” He still had to ask, he could be wrong.

Cam shook his head, “how did you think we survived on the streets?”

“What did she mean? Justin hustle? No, he wouldn’t, he would have called me, come home. She’s lying.” Jen’s voice cracked and she let out a sob. “This is all your fault.” She accused Brian, pointing at him. “If you’d left my innocent, seventeen boy alone he wouldn’t be here. He’d be finishing college like the boy who hit him is.”

“If Brian had left him alone that night on Liberty Avenue he’d have probably ended up in more trouble a lot sooner.” Cam spoke up.

“What do you know? This isn’t any of your business.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brian asked Cam, as if Jen’s outburst hadn’t happened.

“It wasn’t my story to tell–and it wasn’t hers,” he nodded towards the TV, “It’s not as if it’s a secret. Everyone who is in the business knows about the hustler turned tattooist, it’s one of the reasons he’s so popular.”

“Stop talking like that! As if being a prostitute is no big deal.” Jen’s voice rose and the receptionist looked over worryingly.

“It’s not, compared to what else could have happened out there it’s quite tame really. Doesn’t tonight tell you that?”

Justin dialled his mom’s number with shaking fingers. He couldn’t do this anymore, not now the money had run out and he couldn’t stay in the dive they called a hostel.

He couldn’t do *that* to get money, not again. It wasn’t like he came from a shitty home, he wasn’t abused as a child and he was doing well in school. He didn’t deserve to be on the streets. How fucked up did that sound? He could feel their stares, it was as if they knew he was a country club brat and he had no business being here. He should go back. Back to the lover who never wanted him, the mother who dumped him on the lover who never wanted him and the father who left them all because of the son and his disgusting lifestyle.

He listened to the never ending ring and prayed his mom would pick up. His heart jumped into his throat when he heard that telltale click. Relief washed through his body and he wilted against the cool glass of the booth.

“Taylor residence.”

His pulse started to beat painfully and tears beaded in his eyes, rolling down his cheek. He promised himself that he wouldn’t fall apart, that he’d be brave and not show in the tone of his voice how very afraid he was. “Dad?” His voice cracked, and he forgot all about the arguing, the disappointment. He just wanted his father to come and pick up, tell him it was all a bad dream and to forget it, like he used to.

“Justin, is that you Justin?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He clutched the phone tightly, feeding the slot the rest of his change.

“Where the hell have you been?”

He had forgotten, in the depth of his father’s voice, the slight lilt to his words, that they hadn’t left on good terms, that he would never be the man who took the nightmares away again.

“I’m sorry…Is mom there?” Please let her be there.

“She’s sleeping at the moment.” The sentence was loaded with other meanings and Justin felt his heart break into tiny pieces.

It was OK, he could do this, he could speak to his father and not fall apart, he could agree to whatever terms he wanted, if only he could go home.

“You’re getting on better?” He gave a little cough, clearing his throat as the words got stuck.

“Apart from your disappearance, we’ve been getting along much better. I suppose, we should thank you for bringing us together again.”

Panic settled like ice inside his bones, it calmed him, gave him clarity and the strength to talk to the only man who, he’d once thought, would love him forever. “I’m glad you’re not fighting anymore.”

“Your theatrics are getting tiresome. When you’re here you cause trouble and when you’re not you cause it. We have other people to think about here. Your sister is getting sadly neglected with all your hysterics. When are you coming home, Justin?”

Come and pick me up, take me in your arms and tell me that monsters don’t lurk in dark corners and then tell me you love me. “I’m not coming home. I phoned to tell mom I’d got a job, that once I’m settled I’ll call and give you my address.” Someone knocked on the glass, making Justin flinch, he turned away, pressing the phone closer to his ear.

“Where are you, Justin? What about school.”

“I’m running out of change for the phone, I’ll call later with details, give mom and Molly my love.” He placed the receiver into the cradle with a bang, his hand was shaking. He wiped away his tears until his cheeks were dry and his eyes burned.

He stepped out of the phone booth and took out his sketch book, looking at old drawings of his dad, of his mom, sister and Brian, then of later drawings, the tourists of New York, landmarks he was sure would make him enough money to stay in the hostel an extra night.

Raindrops fell on the pages, blurring pencil lines and buckling the paper. They were just marks on a page, meaningless in value and personally, no wonder no one wanted to part with their money for them.

He stopped next to an overfilled bin, pulling pencils out of his pocket he threw them on top, and with one last look at a blurred picture of his father, he shoved the sketchbook deep into the garbage.

He wondered through the streets for a while, not wanting to stay in one place for too long. The rain soaked through his jacket until he was painfully numb. There had to be a way he could make this work. It was time he did things on his own and didn’t rely on people. It was unfair to be such a burden to Brian, and if he was honest with himself, he knew that it couldn’t work, not in the long term. He had thought he’d always end up back with his mom, once she’d gotten used to his life style, but that wasn’t an option any longer either.

It wasn’t such a big deal. Hundreds of people did it every day. He could take care of himself, he’d make a new life for himself, let karma attack him at full force for the stress he’d put on every one.

Maybe it was what he’d deserved.

He believed in fate, everything happened for a reason. He frowned inwardly, or maybe it was karma he believed in. What goes around comes around. He’d taken his filthy lifestyle away from his parents and they were finally getting their act together.

He’d refused to give up his filthy lifestyle and now it might be the only thing that would save him.

He stopped walking, looking up at an old building, more windows boarded up than not. He could make out a sign saying Night Stop Café and he peered through the grimy windows, towards a table of young boys leaning into the centre, littered coffee cups and empty crisp packets all around them.

It was a pathetic sight, but it looked safe, and warm. It was a million miles away from his old life and that was how he wanted it now.

He pushed on the door, the bell tinkling weakly above him.

Everyone stopped talking and looked at him, he was rooted to the spot and not even the warmth was enough to keep him there. He stepped closer the door again, intent of getting out of there when one of them stood up, chair scraping back. This was a bad idea. They didn’t look safe at all anymore, they looked–hopeless, sad and dejected, they looked at him like he was little more than a piece of meat.

“No, wait.” His build seemed vaguely familiar, the voice sending shivers down his spine. But Justin didn’t recognize him in the brightly lit diner. His hair fell messily around his face and he was only a little bigger than Justin in size. He had a dimple in one corner of his mouth when he smiled and Justin wondered what the hell he had to smile about.

“Don’t go. You’re the guy from the other night. I’ll get you a coffee, my treat.” Justin stood mutely, not responding at all. This guy was barely older than he was, his skin was smooth, hair natural and body toned, yet Justin could see the harsh realities life had brought him and he couldn’t be mad for his intervention that night.

“Don’t you think there’s enough competition as there is?” Someone said and Justin wasn’t quite sure what he meant, he only knew he felt resigned to this.

“Nah, new faces help keep the regulars regular, man.”

“I’m Cam.” Cam placed a steaming cup of coffee in Justin’s hands, ignoring the conversation going on around them. His eyes were friendly, apologetic and dead. “I’m sorry about the other night–“

Justin shut his eyes, blanked out that night. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. People do what they have to do.”

Cam nodded, a half smile gracing his face, giving his expression a little life. “Ain’t that the truth?”

Cam pushed Justin towards the group of boys, made room for him and sat him down. Justin knew there would be a price for their kindness, but it was a price he’d rather pay than the alternative.