When he thinks back to that moment, that series of moments, those minutes and hours that started his life, his real life, Justin never remembers it the way it actually happened. Maybe if he thought about it, if he focused on it and tried to write it down and capture every detail-moment-feeling-thought, he’d remember it differently or at least closer to the way things went.

But he doesn’t do that, because despite whether whatever he remembers is true or not, he now believes it to be true, and he lets all those details-moments-feelings-thoughts tumble around his brain every once in a while, when he’s bored or quiet or waiting for sleep to capture him, late at night in his small New York studio.

What he remembers is this... the first taste of Brian’s tongue against his, pushing between lips and running across teeth and that thrill of knowing this was his first real kiss. Nothing like the chaste kisses he shared behind the bleachers at school – this was a man kissing him, this was what was supposed to happen, this is the way it was supposed to feel. He knew it that second, would know it forever. The brush of stubble and soft push of nose into his cheek, the warmth of breath against his mouth and face, a strong, warm body that fit together with his. He remembers Brian’s hard cock pushing against his stomach through his t-shirt, then the soft cotton pulling from his chest, so it was just skin against skin, Brian’s knees bent and Justin’s heels off the floor so their dicks would bump and rub together...

(He doesn’t remember feeling so scared like he was going to puke, doesn’t remember the rush of blood to his cheeks, his palms cool and damp. He doesn’t remember saying stupid things about Cheerios and turning down drugs and saying something about shitting his pants if he ate Tylenol. He doesn’t remember Brian staring at him, like that, like he was a silly kid who didn’t have the slightest clue of how his life was going to change next.)

What he remembers is this... coming on the sheets with Brian’s hand wrapped softly around his cock, watching himself disappear slowly between Brian’s fist, the feeling of having another person touch him, know him, know what he likes and needs and making him come just with his fingers. He remembers Brian holding him as he came, palm pressing against his dick, stroking him, remembers the feeling of his own spunk crossing his cheek and face. He remembers feeling a little anxious but mostly euphoric. He remembers wanting to come again and again and wanting to give that same feeling back to Brian.

(He doesn’t remember Brian’s dismissive glare, Brian talking on the phone to someone else, Brian yelling at him and scolding him and making him feel 12 years old. He doesn’t remember the cold air in the loft and how Brian’s eyes were kind of glazed and how he told Justin to go home and threw his underwear at him. He doesn’t remember trying to lie about his age and he doesn’t remember wondering if Brian revealed something to him that he’d never, ever told a trick before.)

What he remembers is this... hands on his hips and rolling over onto his stomach on the sheets, damp from the beads of sweat that ran down his back. He remembers thinking he was going to get fucked right then, remembers tensing and clenching and holding his breath... but then letting it out slowly again, relaxing and closing his eyes and feeling Brian’s mouth at the back of his neck, breathing into his sweat-soaked blond hair. He remembers feeling supremely full of everything all at once. Excited horny ecstatic nervous scared thrilled sexy in love. He felt all that and then when Brian’s tongue touched to his spine and started to trail downward... God, he remembers not knowing how to breathe anymore. Just knowing soft, wet tongue licking his asshole. Just knowing the greatest fucking thing he ever felt in his life.

(He doesn’t remember the fear he felt, the apprehension and curiosity, wondering how this man he didn’t even know could do this to him, perform this intimate act on him, and he felt weird and uncomfortable and held back inside. He doesn’t remember his heart beating so hard he thought it might stop, his face burning, cold sweat popping out on his skin, doesn’t remember feeling like it might be wrong to be liking this so much, but then to be honest, his brain clouded at that point and there was nothing more to remember about that.)

What he remembers is this... on his back, legs in the air, the first push in, a little pinch and then heaven. Feeling full and complete like he’d never felt before. Remembers thinking, this is it, I know, I know who I am... he remembers the revelation hitting him, then Brian’s mouth covering his till he couldn’t breathe and he felt wetness in his eyes, on his face and he never, ever felt so good...

(He doesn’t remember the pain, oh the pain, shooting up his spine and heavy in the small of his back, pinging down to his toes and the bottoms of his feet. He doesn’t remember fighting back tears because it hurt so much, doesn’t remember feeling crushed and buried and the stretch on the backs of his thighs. He doesn’t remember pulling at Brian, his shoulders, his hair, his ears, anything to bring him closer, doesn’t remember digging his heels into Brian’s back to get more of him inside. Doesn’t remember ever being so desperate or naïve or needy or innocent. No, he doesn’t remember that at all.)

He plays the blue-tinged memories over and over in his head, feels warmth in his crotch and his heart when he remembers that moment, that series of moments, those minutes and hours that started his life. Sometimes he remembers all of it, sometimes just a sense of it.

But it doesn’t really matter what he remembers or maybe doesn’t about his first time or his second time or all the times that followed - too many to count, too many to possibly remember every one.

Because what Justin knows is this... he knows this second, this moment. He knows Brian’s head resting on his chest, breath crossing his skin, soft hair against his chin, bodies pressed skin-to-skin, legs entwined. Knows Brian smiling, sated and sleepy and feeling the same... knows there are plans for tomorrow, the future, whatever lies beyond that. Knows this feeling inside his chest that he’s had ever since that very first night and all the nights after that.

And so if he doesn’t remember every detail-moment-thought-feeling exactly right, he figures it’s really okay.

He knows there are a million more to come.