I don’t wanna fuck up so bad... that I know I will...

I know myself... I know... the way I can be...

I wonder if it’s worth it to try again... I wonder if I’m hurting Justin even more with this... I wonder if... he regrets ever coming back here with me...

I wonder if I’m enough... will always be enough... despite the fact I can’t... fucking be the person he wants me to be... and yet... he loves me anyway... and I love him...

I should tell him... I should... do something, say something, let him know...

Will I be a failure to myself if I give into him? If I give into all the things I said I never wanted or needed in my life?

Or am I a bigger failure for not giving in?

Is it worth it to hurt him to protect myself?

For what... a few words that are meaningless... a few words that I save for... tricks I fuck... for... people I don’t know... and the people I really do care for... like that... I can’t say it... I’ve ruined the fucking word... belittled it’s importance until it means nothing... absolutely nothing...

But I’ve tried to tell him... to show him... in so many other ways...

And I’ve failed...

He doesn’t hear me... doesn’t listen... can’t listen... we connect in so many ways... but in that one sense... we’re worlds apart...

I need to take the word back... for him...

I suck in a breath and drop my hands... pushing him back a little so I can look at him...

I realize suddenly... that...

I don’t have to do this...

It would be so much easier... if I... just let him walk away...

Or... if I just... waited... for him... to figure it out...

To say the things... I can’t...

But...

God...

I owe it to him.

I know I need to say something... need to... say...

Something.

We stare at each other... I hear the silence in the loft... then the hum of the fridge... the quiet whirr of the elevator... a siren in the distance...

His gaze is even... and though my eyes are trapped with his... I don’t see him anymore... don’t see anything anymore... just... get caught in memories... things... I try not to think about... feelings... I don’t want to relive... go places in my head... I don’t want to go...

Remember... that scared look on his face when he came here that first night...

Remember... the relief in his voice when I found him in New York...

Remember... the way he cried when he thought I was moving away...

Remember... the glint of recognition in his eyes when found his scarf around my neck... discovered my secret...

Remember... that smile... fuck... that smile... when he... looked back at me... that... fated night...

Remember... the... unbelievable agony... the... crushing... indescribable... pain I felt... holding him... bloodied and beaten in my arms...

Remember... everything and nothing...

And wonder how... we got here...

My eyes snap back into focus... and... I try to speak to him any other way... try to... avoid... opening my mouth... but he looks at me... he’s trying so hard not to show it... trying so fucking hard not to let me know how much he needs to hear something from me... and I hate this feeling of power... this feeling of ‘make it or break it’... I know he thinks he never needs to hear it... but... I know him better than he knows himself... can see through the masks he tries to wear... for me... for himself... to be strong... to deal with his life...

All I need to do...

Is say... something...

I wish I knew... how to say exactly the right thing... instead of fucking it up... like... I always seem to do...

“Justin...” my voice whispers out...

He doesn’t say anything... just waits... his forehead creases the tiniest bit... and I realize he’s scared... of what I’ll say... of what I won’t say... fuck...

“You know... don’t you?” I ask him... I need to ask him...

He nods a little and I see the disappointment flash in his eyes... “I think so, Brian... yeah...”

Is that enough for me? Can we just build on that? Can I live with myself knowing that I don’t have the fucking balls to tell him what I really think? What I really feel?

What I... need to say?

I press my cheek to his because I can’t look at him when I say it...

Gone too far to turn back now...

“You know I love you, Justin... you have to know it...” and then the words are out and the sham is over and everything is said and spoken and... and...

He was right.

It wasn’t that hard.

Not that hard at all.

Go on to the Epilogue...