Don’t tell me what to fuckin’ do! Christ, I hate it. Mel is fucking reaming on me about being romantic with Justin. Whatever. Fuck. No fucking way. I am not going to fall for this bullshit.

I help Linds and Mel carry all the shit up to their attic. While they screw around upstairs trying to figure out how to fix the fucking mess they made, I spend an hour or so watching Gus. I know I don’t really need to… they have a baby monitor, and there are three of them here… but…

The last time I came here, he looked older, and he’s getting these expressions now… and he knows me… and I’m so fucking determined to be the best goddamn father I can be. I know that might not be saying a lot. I mean, I know I can try, but sometimes when I try, things don’t always work out the way I want or expect them to.

Fuck. I shake my head. How can I screw up so fucking royally all the time? I know *they* think that I think I’m perfect. But the reality is that it is so fucking clear to me that I’m not. That… that…

I look at Gus’s little face and hold his little hands in mine. Pick him up and cradle him in my arms. This little boy… this child… is part of me. Maybe a second chance, maybe the opportunity that I seem to be squandering with the other…

I rock Gus in my arms and he watches me so intensely. He’s such a quiet child and so serious. So beautiful. Reminds me of myself and that’s so fucking scary. Reminds me that he’s mine and I hope to Christ that he doesn’t end up like me. Doesn’t end up… so uncaring and cold and afraid… afraid… afraid…

Afraid of what… might… happen…

Afraid of letting go…

Afraid of letting one more person… in…

Afraid of…  of… of…

I wish I knew.

Justin scares me. That’s the truth. He scares me.

Makes me feel ways I’ve felt before… and never felt before. I want him in my bed, my home, my life. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone… and it scares me. I can’t deal. I can’t face it. I can’t talk to him… or anyone… about it…

Mikey, who I usually can talk to about every fuckin’ thing… I can’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. It’s too hard. Just, hard for him, for me. He wants me to love him like this, I know… and I can’t can’t can’t. I’ve always thought that if I couldn’t love Mikey like that I couldn’t love anyone. But now… Justin...

Gus smiles at me suddenly and I realize that he’s reacting to me. I find myself smiling at the thought of… him…

How ridiculous am I? Am I some kind of fucking fag? Falling in love with a boy, a beautiful boy. But he’s so much more… much much more…

I tried to deny it. Tried to play my games. Tried to pretend that I wasn’t feeling this way.

I was going to ignore… well… not *ignore* his birthday, but not make a big deal. He knows how I feel about birthdays. Reminders of time ticking past. Getting older. Losing youth. Losing so much. And reminders of my past, where I came from. My parents… and hiding, hiding, hiding from the truth… they hate me they want me to die they want me to disappear…

And last year on his birthday, we didn’t do anything. He and Daphne went out, and I don’t really know, he came to the loft and I guess we fucked. See… this is why I hate birthdays. Reminders of time. I suddenly can’t believe that I knew him on his birthday last year. That it’s been more than a year since I saw him on the street corner. So innocent, so young... and part of me wanted to be the one to take that from him… part of me wanted to protect him from someone else taking it… part of me… just wanted… him.

And then I go and screw it up. Of course it was on purpose. Lindsay begging me to get him a present. So I did. And it was mean of me, really. Just mean. I saw his face fall. He was expecting more, but I couldn’t give him more. I don’t know what more I can buy for him. Money is never an object—if he needs something, he gets it. I buy him whatever he wants, so I didn’t want to get him something that cost a lot. And I didn’t want to arrange some fucking dinner or cake. And I didn’t know what… so I got him something that I thought would be fun.

But when he fucked that trick, I will admit I wished it was me lying under him, his cock pounding in me, fucking me fucking me fucking me. Christ… never loved it as much as when he does it. But then again, never had anyone fuck me who loves me… as much as he does… and that I… felt like that back…

So I gave him his favourite. A long rim job, sucking his hole, licking him everywhere, making him groan and that was his gift. And mine. Listening to him, giving me goosebumps and making me want to give him everything… feeling like I had given him what I could…

Lindsay and Mel don’t understand. Justin and I don’t need gifts or foolish tokens of affection. We have each other. It’s not that I can’t or won’t. It’s that I don’t need to. He knows.

And I’m not the husband. He’s not the wife. We’re equals. Always equals.

The women come downstairs for dinner and I reluctantly put Gus down for his nap. I love holding him. He’s so trusting and so… I don’t know how to explain it. I just feel somehow proud that he’s mine and I want to hold him and be with him. Watch him grow and teach him everything I know about life and people and how to be a man. And whether Gus is gay or not, there are lessons and things I know that I can teach. Things I know that are worthwhile no matter who you find yourself loving.

I leave him with his mommies and walk to the Jeep, passing a street vendor selling papers, candy bars, cigarettes… flowers…

Flowers…

But I said that…

I stop and stare… just for a second, which turns into a minute… a long minute… and think.

Fuckin’ bouquet of roses.

We… don’t… need…

Justin doesn’t… need…

I… can’t…

But…

I pull the bouquet out of the bin, touching the soft petals, and look at them, thinking… what… if… I…

The old man at the stand says something, trying to sell them to me. Whatever. Small talk my friend, isn’t going to sway this boy. No way. No way at all.

I bring the flowers to my nose and smell them. Smell them. What they mean.

Nothing…

What they represent…

Nothing…

What he would think…

I don’t know…

The old man pushes me, asking if he can wrap them. I just look… and just imagine… what more… and… why the fuck did anyone ever have to say anything to me… why the fuck can’t everyone just leave me and Justin alone? We don’t need anyone or anything. We have so much. Don’t they know this is so much for me? More than I know how to deal with?

And I know that’s why I’m doing such foolish things like letting him tie me down with rules about kissing and curfews and I let him get away with everything just to hold him in my arms again and drown in his warm smell of washed cotton and feel his hair brush up against my cheek and his fingers on my back as they hold me to him.

This is why I do such things like even consider for a single, solitary second that I would even… ever… buy him something so ridiculous as… flowers…

We don’t need that… don’t need anything…

And besides. No one has ever bought me flowers.

I tell the old man no thanks and put them back.

We don’t need that… don’t need anything.