You spend all your time waiting
for that second chance
for the break that would make it okay
there's always some reason
to feel not good enough
and it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
oh beautiful release

"Angel" by Sarah McLachlan

JUSTIN’S POV

And what would that be…

The unanswered question hangs in the air… the silence is heavy and dark and there are a million things I want to say to him, that I want him to know, that I want him to feel.

But… I’m mute.

I’m not ready for this. Not ready to have this conversation with him. And I know he’s definitely not ready to have it with me.

I don’t think he ever will.

So I look away and bite my tongue. I can’t say anything. Won’t say anything. I’ll keep it inside and I’ll think about how I feel, how I really feel. About what I want and what things I need in my life, what things make me happy.

I know I’ve been through all this before, and I know it feels like two years ago and I know that when I left him and took him out of my life that I was miserable. That I missed him so much it *hurt*, that I wanted to be with him more than anything else, that I was willing to overlook all the things I wished he wasn’t, just to have all the things he really was.

I know all that and I remind myself of it constantly, and I keep asking whether I really want Brian to change or if I just wish *I* could change and be satisfied with what I have. What we have.

Such different things. Either I change or he does. Which one of us will give in, break down, give up. Which one of us will sacrifice what he wants and needs and believes in to make the other happy.

He breaks the silence, mumbles something about taking a shower, asks if I’m coming to bed.

“In a while,” I say back, and flip over my drawing. Rage and JT and how fucking obvious is it, but I don’t care. It’s how I feel.

This is how I feel.

BRIAN’S POV

I get out of the shower and expect to see him in bed, but he’s not. I climb between the sheets without sparing a glance into the living room.

I close my eyes and try to relax, try to sleep but I know it’ll be impossible. My stomach is clenched up in knots, my mind is racing and I can’t sleep if I feel like this. And I definitely I can’t sleep with him sitting out there on the goddamn couch when he should be in bed here with me.

I listen for any indication that he’s even still awake… the breath of a sigh, the scratch of his pen on paper, the shuffle of his hand as it slides across the page.

But I hear nothing. I figure he’s other decided to sleep on the couch or he’s sitting there, brooding. Thinking about all the ways he wants me to be different.

I’m not changing. I can’t change. Monogamy and getting married and everlasting promises… it’s a fucking road to destruction, doesn’t he get that? People fuck around, marriages fall apart, promises are broken and the relationships soon follow. People are weak. Every single one of us. It never works. One person is always forced to give in and the other ends up not happy anyway.

There’s no such thing as compromise, just two people not getting what they want.

I *am* committed to him. He knows that. And who I fuck has nothing to do with how I feel about him. Nothing.

I roll onto my side and see the empty expanse of mattress beside me. Christ, this is crazy.

I push off the sheets and climb out of bed, walking quietly to the top of the stairs. He’s sitting sideways on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest, drawing set aside, head resting on his arm. He’s staring into the bedroom, but his eyes flick to mine as I come closer.

“Hey,” I say, and stop in front of him.

He doesn’t say anything, just blinks slowly.

“I’m not fighting with you,” I lift my hands then drop them. I feel helpless.

“I’m not trying to start a fight. I’m just… thinking. That’s it. Just thinking,” his voice is dry and scratches out of his throat. It’s way too late and he really should be in bed.

“Come to bed and think,” I say and reach my hand out to him.

JUSTIN’S POV

He holds his hand out to me and I look at him. See him. He looks tired and spent and old. I hate to say it, but he does. He’s too old for this shit, too old to be fucking around, screwing everything in sight, clubbing and partying and getting wasted. And no surprise, he’s gotten sick.

This is the sickness he found out about. What about the shit he could have that he *doesn’t* know about. The thought of the worse things out there… much, much worse things out there freaks me out.

Freaks me out that he could have it and freaks me out that he could give it to me. That wasn’t even a fucking concern of his. He just drops the bomb on me like it was nothing. Like the idea that he might’ve given it to me too doesn’t even worry him. Oh well, take a couple pills and it’s done with.

That’s not good enough for me. Christ, it’s a goddamn miracle I didn’t get it. I just know I won’t be so lucky next time.

And I hate that I know there *will* be a next time.

He drops his hand and sighs loudly. Stares up at the ceiling.

“Christ,” he says under his breath.

“No one ever said it would be easy,” I say it quietly.

“I just don’t…” he stops and sighs, pushes his hand through his hair. His voice softens a little. “I don’t get what the fucking problem is.”

I just shake my head and turn away from him. I hardly trust myself to say anything right now. I might say something I’ll later regret. That I won’t be able to take back. And I’m not ready for that yet.

He turns around and heads back up to the bedroom, walking quietly up the stairs.

BRIAN’S POV

I walk up the stairs to the bedroom, then stop at the top. I can either resist this – him – or I can give in. I can change like every other fucking person around me is changing, or I can be who I am, what I am.

I close my eyes and feel the awful deja vu wash over me. He’s pulling away, inching further from me, shutting me out, closing down. I can feel it, see it. It’s in my heart, my head, and it’s making me feel sick because I don’t know what to do. I can bite sharp words at him and make it worse or I can leave him to sort it out himself and let him decide what he needs.

What he wants. Where he wants to be.

But maybe I can try and influence him. A little.

I turn around to face him again and lean against the doorway. His eyes are on me still and we stare at each for what seems like an eternity. Seconds tick by and turn into minutes and I get this sense like we’re both trying to sort through what to do next. Decide how far to push, decide when to concede.

I take a deep breath.

“Please,” I say it softly, don’t break my gaze with him.

He blinks and the hardness is gone from his eyes when they meet mine again. “Please what?” He asks, his voice tired and low.

“Please come to bed,” I reach out to him again. He stares at my hand, then lifts up slowly, uncurling himself from the couch. Sighs a little, then shuffles over to me, and puts his hand in mine.

I pull him to me, holding him to my chest. “Okay,” he says quietly, wrapping his arms around my waist.

JUSTIN’S POV

I relent. It hurts too much not to.

I take his hand and fall into his embrace and feel his arms wrapping tight around me and I think that maybe I’m overreacting and maybe I’m making too big a deal out of it and maybe I can learn to accept this and we can figure out a way that maybe it can work.

Because I love him. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my entire fucking life. And standing here in his arms, being held close to him… it makes a lot of the other stuff okay.

I just keep remembering how much I hated being without him. How good it can be being with him. How good it is.

We pull apart and he climbs into bed and I strip off my clothes then slide under the sheets beside him. I roll onto my side, and he curls up behind me, arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me close to him. He shifts in the bed, sliding down till I feel his face buried into the back of my neck, his lips touching my skin, his breath in my hair.

It feels good, comforting, intimate and maybe it’s all I need for right now. I cover his hand on my stomach with my own and close my eyes. Feel him breathing, the warmth of his body, his heartbeat and I let go.

I have time. I can figure this out.

Right now I’ll take this.

BRIAN’S POV

I pull him against my chest and breathe him in and swallow back the familiarity that creeps up my throat. I don’t wanna feel it, but it’s there. Two years disappeared and here we are again. I don’t know what’s gonna happen this time, but hope that maybe it’s not too late to stop it.

I might be able to stop it.

And lying here in bed with him, face buried into the back of his neck, the smell of his hair in my nose, the taste of his skin on my lips, I wanna do anything to stop it. I’d fucking do anything. I don’t want this to go. I really, really don’t.

But it’s in the light of day or the bright strobes of Babylon, when my brain and my ego are spinning out of control… when everything looks different and feels different and my heart is buried too deep in my chest and I let myself think too much and I know it’s all me, all my fucking fault…

I forget this. I think I can live without this.

I think that I don’t need this.

And if it goes…

…like it might…

I’ll realize how wrong I am. How much I need it. How much I’ll miss this, miss him.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

He’s here. In my arms. It’s not two years ago, it’s now. And there’s no one else, there’s no one taking his time away from me. It’s just me and him and that’s all we have.

His hand covers mine and he drags his thumb across my skin. Something like relief flows through me, washes over my heart, and I feel acceptance. A simple gesture that makes this time nothing like that time before.

He nestles back into me, pushing against my chest, and I don’t assume anything, just sigh softly into his hair, kiss the back of his neck lightly, taste his warm sweet skin on the tip of my tongue.

“I feel…” He starts to say, then stops, his voice fading away.

“What?” I ask between kisses.

He rolls over a little to look at me. “Are you sure it’s safe now?”

I scrunch up my eyebrows. “Of course. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t sure it was safe.” I wonder if that has something to do with everything.

He looks away again, and pushes his ass against my groin. “I feel… empty. Hollow,” he says it into the pillow, his face away from me. His fingers atop of mine press my hand on his stomach, push his body against mine.

“What do you want?” I say it softly. I know what he wants. I wanna hear him say it.

“You. Inside,” his breath deepens, he rotates his hips back against my crotch. I want to be inside too. I crave that closeness, that intimacy with him right now.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, watching the side of his face.

He nods and grabs a condom, pressing it into my palm, then rolling back onto his side, curling his hands under his head.

I roll the condom on and use too much lube, pushing inside him effortlessly. He breathes in sharply then sighs out slowly, and for moments we just lie there together, me inside him.

Touching those empty places inside.

We fuck slowly, kissing and caressing, drifting towards beautiful release... I’m reminded of another time… a better memory now, and I hold onto it instead. I fill my palm with lube and take his dick in my hand… stroking him till I’m rewarded with the spurt of come in my fingers, hitching breaths from his throat, damp skin stuck to my chest. Keep touching him, spilling his come over his cock again, spreading it over his skin, feeling the heat of him in my hand.

JUSTIN’S POV

He keeps stroking me slowly, my come warm on my cock, his dick so hard inside me still. It feels so good, it feels better than good and I’m glad I relented, that I let this happen. I think we both needed it tonight.

He starts to pull out, but I reach back and grab his hip, holding him inside. “Don’t stop,” I say.

It hurts a little, but I don’t mind the hurt. It’s intense and good and makes my heart beat hard in my chest. It makes me feel alive and I want that feeling right now. It overtakes the anger and hurt and bitterness and only leaves sweet contentment in its wake.

He moves a little faster, pumping his hips into me shallowly, his face buried in the crook of my neck. I clench my ass around his cock, moving against him, urging him to come, feeling that desperation in his strokes, that neediness with every push in. And then it happens, he gets hotter and harder and seems to fill me more, shivers against my back... presses his hand against my stomach, holding me back against his body, burying his cock in my ass. He comes inside me and I don’t feel so empty anymore.

No matter what, I can't just forget this... can't ignore this... the way he feels inside me, the way I feel held in his arms... the way we feel together.

And I just can’t pretend I don’t love him as much as I do.

BRIAN’S POV

I ease out of him slowly, strip away the condom, wipe away the lube and curl back up against his body. He pulls my arm around his chest and clings to me, holding me tightly and I know that feeling. I want to hold on tightly to this too.

Everything makes sense here, wrapped up around him, a soft warm body that always smells so good, tastes so perfect. It’s outside of here with words and expectations and dark looks and even darker emotions... it’s outside of this cocoon that the world is starting not to make sense anymore. Everything’s changing and all I want to do is stop it. Stop Michael, stop Justin, stop fucking time from marching on and dragging with it an inevitable sea of change.

But here, curled up in bed, bodies spooned together... things make sense. Everything has always made sense here.

I wish nothing ever had to change.

Those words still hang between us, heavy and waiting for an answer.

...more satisfying... more meaningful...

I lied to him. I know exactly what it would be.