The Place Where You Belong
Title: The Place Where You Belong
Written by: asm614
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, Mild Angst, Post-513
Summary: On the one-year anniversary of the day Justin left for New York, Brian spends an evening at the manor, but not exactly as he anticipated.
A.N.: Title credit belongs to lyrics from “Come Back Down” by Lifehouse. Also, thanks to missyerable for being a most wonderful beta!
Request: Brian/Justin. More then PWP if possible. Angst is fine as long as it all works out in the end.
Requested by: thoughtful_kaos
***
I knew something wasn’t right as soon as I walked into the house, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. The alarm had been on when I pulled the Vette into the garage, so for all intents and purposes, I had no reason to assume anyone else had been there. Besides that, I was the only one with the security code.
I made my way into the kitchen, hitting light switches as I went. Still, nothing seemed to be remotely awry. I dropped my keys on the island counter, cursing my own neuroticism. I’d been spending too much time alone lately.
It was the one-year anniversary of the day Justin had left for New York, and I knew that everyone else was just as aware and watching me like hawks. Hell, even Cynthia had gone out of her way to be extra nice to me at the office. As soon as I noticed the absence of her usually snarky behavior, I knew why, but I wasn’t about to call her on it. Acknowledging it would imply that I cared; that this day was having an effect on me. Sure, I’d changed irrevocably in the past several months, but that didn’t mean I had to admit it. At least not to any of them.
After work, I decided that the best idea was to head out to the house. I had been spending a bit more time working on it lately, and I knew that there, I could avoid pity parties and Mikey’s pleas for me to come to Babylon to keep my poor wittle mind occupied. Lindsay knew how to get in touch with me if there was a problem with Gus, and she also knew better than to call and try to offer sympathy for my “loss.”
It wasn’t that I never saw Justin. In fact, he’d been right - we did see each other almost all the time. I tried to fly or drive to New York City at least three times a month, and paid the airfare for him to come home when he could. But as nice as it was to spend long weekends and most holidays with him, it wasn’t the same as falling asleep and waking up beside him every day. I couldn’t meet him at the diner for lunch or convince him to drop by my office for an afternoon quickie at a moment’s notice. Nowadays, I always showered alone, and what no one else knew was that I had not fucked a single trick since the day I’d asked him to marry me. No lie. I just wasn’t interested. Needless to say, my right hand was getting quite the workout.
But I digress.
When I noticed the lack of discrepancies in the kitchen, I was almost completely convinced that I was entirely alone in the house, and that everything was just all in my head. It briefly occurred to me that if I intended to stay in the house for the weekend, I’d need to figure out an arrangement for some form of sustenance, but that could be figured out later. The one thing that the loft had over the manor was the accessibility to any kind of take out one could possibly fathom. Here, I was going to have to fend for myself. While the house was most often vacant, despite my occasional weekend visits, it seemed senseless to hire a cook.
I walked into the foyer and hung my black leather Armani jacket in the closet, making a mental note to pick up some mothballs the next time I went to a store. The house had developed something of a slightly musty scent to it, and I hoped there were still a few candles left in the living room, from one of the times Justin and I had escaped the Pitts for a weekend visit.
The great room was off to my right, and I decided to light a fire, hoping to ward off some of the chill in the house. I’d only had the heat running periodically, usually kicking on just before the weekend, otherwise there was no point while I wasn’t even in the state.
I took two steps into the room before the feeling of paranoia washed over me again. Something wasn’t right, and somehow, I knew that I wasn’t making this up. The darkness of the room was not providing me with any kind of comfort either. I tried to force my eyes to adjust to the surrounding area.
I took another few hesitant steps toward the center of the room, making my way toward the fireplace. I knew there was a torch lighter that I kept on the mantle, and once I reached that, I’d be able to maneuver my way to one of the lamps around the room. There was a rustle behind me, and I turned so quickly that I had to struggle to regain my balance. I couldn’t make out anything in the darkness, so I turned back, shaking my head. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the chain on one of the lamps being pulled, and the area behind me was illuminated.
“What the fuck?” I instinctively turned back, and my jaw hit the floor.
He was sitting there in the corner of the sofa, with the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen in my life. “Did I scare you?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Justin, you almost gave me a heart attack!” I sputtered. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I thought you’d come here today,” he replied simply, as if it was an obvious reason.
“And you got in how?” I was still in complete and total shock.
“I missed you too, Brian,” he smirked before continuing. “You gave me a key one of the times I was here. And you use the same alarm code as the loft.”
“I never told you that.”
“I figured I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. So when it worked, I came in and then reset it so it would still be on when you got here. After I put it back on, I had a minute to decide where to wait while before it was completely armed.” A small smile played at the corners of his mouth; I could tell he was proud of himself.
“And how long did you sit in the dark room, completely still, waiting for me to get here?” I asked, massaging my chin as I processed his words.
“An hour.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “You, Justin Taylor, were capable of remaining motionless for more than two minutes?”
“It’s amazing, I know.” The grin slowly reformed. “Are you going to stand there and interrogate me all day, or are you going to come over here and greet me properly?”
He didn’t have to ask twice. I easily closed the distance between us in two strides, and he stood to meet me as I approached. We enveloped each other, taking a moment to savor the feel of being back in something so familiar, so real.
I tangled my fingers in his hair. It amazed me that it was always so soft. I yanked softly, tilting his face up toward mine, and brought my lips down to meet his. He responded immediately and we kissed hungrily, our arms and hands not knowing where to move next.
He started to reach for my tie, but I stopped him, knowing that the inevitable would eventually ensue, but I really did need him to answer a few things first. I couldn’t help the nagging feeling that the day had placed in my gut.
“So are you going to tell me what you’re doing in my house?” I asked as soon as I could force myself to release him from my arms. Even in doing so, I couldn’t help but press a quick kiss to his temple before he stepped back.
“I didn’t forget about today… I knew you wouldn’t either, since you always manage to casually slip in how long I’ve been gone,” he smirked.
I rolled my eyes and suppressed a smile. I’d always hoped he hadn’t noticed. I should’ve known better. Justin always managed to catch everything, no matter how minute.
But then his eyes got serious and he crossed his arms against his chest. “I thought this was our house, by the way. What’s this ‘my house’ business?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I… Justin, it is our house, but you’re not here… you don’t live here,” I tried to explain, knowing that any attempt would fail miserably anyway, and made a mental note to think before I opened my mouth in the future.
“Neither do you,” he countered. “You never did sell the loft.”
“This place is too big for just me. You’re in New York, and Gus is in Toronto, so there’s no reason to stay here very often,” I lied. He hadn’t been back to Pittsburgh in awhile, so he had no real way of knowing just how often I had been using the manor.
“Michael told me you’ve been coming here almost every weekend.” He gave me a defiant look, challenging me to respond.
Fucking Mikey.
“Then why’d you bring it up?” I shot back, trying to match his expression.
“To see if you’d tell me,” was his reply.
I figured I owed him an explanation, so I made it simple and shrugged, “No disruptions here.”
He looked worried for a minute. “Am I disrupting you then?”
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous. You’re just about the only person I wanted to see today.” I paused. “I… I didn’t think I would. You’re getting good with surprises, Sunshine.”
He beamed and my heart swelled, but I wasn’t going to let him off that easily.
“I fucking hate surprises.”
He gave me an impish grin. “So I shouldn’t randomly drop in for visits?” His tone was innocent and playful, and I hated to change the mood of the conversation, but I knew I needed to.
My response was serious as I accepted the realization that I needed to just swallow my fucking pride and confess. “No, you shouldn’t.”
His eyes widened then clouded over, and his face fell. “I’m sorry, I just thought that -“
I cut him off. “Justin, are you happy?” The abruptness of the question caught us both off guard, but I had to ask.
“Well, I -“ I could see his hesitation as he searched my face, trying to decide where this was going to lead.
“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Just be honest.” My voice was probably sharper than I had intended, but I needed this answer.
He looked into my eyes for a few seconds before responding. He was scared; I could see it. Even after six years, his eyes still didn’t lie.
He seemed to consider his options then began to speak. “Aren’t I supposed to be happy? Isn’t that what you wanted, Brian?” he asked slowly. “I don’t really know what you want me to say.”
“I just told you, the truth.”
“But whose truth? I don’t know if they’re always the same.” He seemed troubled, and I could almost smell a fight brewing.
“Look, I’m not going to get pissed off, no matter what you say. I just want to know.” I kept my voice as even as possible.
“How could you not know? Why do you even need to ask? You’ve been to visit me in the city; you’ve seen my job and my place. What is there to question?” His hands gesticulated his frustration and his voice began to rise.
“Well it’s not like you’re sitting in your apartment crying every time I walk in the door.” I was starting to lose my temper at his inability to answer one fucking question.
“Then sure I’m happy, if that’s all it takes. I’m happy as a fucking clam. I love my life and I have everything I could possibly want now. Is that what you want to hear?” He was practically yelling.
“Jesus Christ, Justin!” I threw my hands up and rolled my eyes, unable to contain my irritation. “I asked you one question. One fucking yes or no question.”
“I. Don’t. Know. What. You. Want. Me. To. Say.” He enunciated every word carefully, and part of me wanted to pull a Debbie and slap him upside the head, but when I saw that he looked like he was about ready to cry, I immediately softened my tone.
“I just want to know if you’re happy. Are you living the way you wanted to live? Is this your dream? That’s all I’m asking.”
He snorted. “That’s a fucking lot to ask.” He stared at me evenly. “Are you?”
I wasn’t expecting him to turn the tables, so his question took me slightly aback. “This isn’t about me right now. You answer me first.” Okay, so that was partly a lie. The conversation had a lot more to do with me than I was ready to acknowledge.
He sighed, and knew that for once, I wasn’t going to let him win. Actually, that’s a big fucking lie. He won on his own, without my concession, more frequently than I cared to admit. But this time, I stood firm.
He sank back down onto the sofa, and I joined him, sitting so that we were facing each other. “Brian… why are you asking me this? I don’t know how to answer because I don’t know what you’re thinking, or what my answers might mean to this… to us…” he admitted.
My tongue found its way into my cheek as I nodded. “Fair enough, but how so?”
“You’re the one who finally encouraged me to go to New York, and I did… I am pursuing my dream, you’re right. Five years ago, I never could’ve imagined this happening to me. I thought I’d be graduating from Dartmouth, and getting ready for my MBA. This is more than I ever could’ve hoped for… In that respect, yes, I’m happy. I’m thrilled. I can’t believe that this is what I do now, that I have art shows and a good agent. But if I tell you I’m happy in New York, then what? Are you going to cut me loose again? Tell me to find someone there to make me even happier? And if I tell you I’m not happy there, then you’ll tell me I haven’t given it enough time, that I’m not trying hard enough. I don’t feel like there’s a right answer to give you. We have been through this before,” he reminded.
I processed his words before I began to speak. “Justin, I want you to be happy -“
“But you can’t create my happiness for me, Brian. You can’t wave a magic wand from 500 miles away and expect my entire world to fill up with roses.” His tone was filled with exasperation.
“Would you let me finish?”
“Go ahead.” He sighed and waited expectantly.
“If New York is your dream, if it’s become your life now… I want you to have that. I just want you to be sure that it’s what you want.” I began.
He blinked a few times. “I am so fucking confused right now, Brian.”
“I just want you to have whatever it is that makes you happy, whatever it is, and whatever it takes,” I replied simply. I realized that I could’ve made this whole conversation far less complicated if I’d just said what I wanted right off the bat, but I couldn’t bring myself to open up and expose myself that completely. I’d watched him walk away from me more than once, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that essentially happening again.
He started to speak, but then stopped to think for a couple of seconds, and suddenly something changed in his eyes. I took a deep breath and anticipated what he was going to say next.
“Why don’t you tell me what it is that you really wanted to say? You never interrogate me like this when we’re together. What’s this all about? I’m not answering anything else until you can at least tell me that.” His tone was firm, unwavering.
I knew I wasn’t cut out for these types of conversations, for these confessions, and my heart beating at approximately warp speed gave me confirmation enough, but he was right. I owed him at least that.
I exhaled slowly before beginning to speak. “I always told myself that I’d never let anyone else into my life. I told myself that a long time ago, but then you came and everything changed, Justin. My entire life’s dynamic was severely fucked up…”
He looked at me skeptically. “This isn’t a great way to start…”
“You asked. I can stop.” I knew I sounded annoyed, but I also expected that he, of all people, would understand how difficult this whole emotional expression bit was for me.
He shook his head. “No… I’m sorry, keep going.”
I inhaled deeply and slowly let out the air before continuing. “You just got into this place in my life… in… my heart. I tried to get you out, but I couldn’t. I tried even when I didn’t want to try.” My eyes found their way to my lap and wouldn’t move. I needed to say this, but I couldn’t look at his face.
“So what now?” he asked, and I could tell by his voice that he was growing scared again.
“Sometime in the past two years… I realized I couldn’t try anymore. I didn’t want to. It would’ve been like losing a part of myself. That’s never happened to me with anyone else. Not even Mikey, and you have no idea how fucking scared that makes me,” I admitted, although I suspected that, more than anyone, he did get it; get me.
“I couldn’t ever see you without Michael in your life,” he replied, shaking his head. “That whole period last year when you weren’t talking just seemed unreal.”
“Yeah, well… it’s not to say we haven’t had our differences, and I’m sure we’ll still have some of them forever, but that’s not the point.” I glanced up at him and he nodded again.
“Go ahead.” Now he just seemed anxious.
“When I finally allowed myself to realize - to admit - what you meant to me, when we started making these plans for our life, New York came along, and you couldn’t pass that up. I couldn’t let you pass that up. Not for me.”
“But it wasn’t your decision to make -“ he started to argue, but I cut him off.
“You knew you couldn’t pass it up either. Justin, not many people get opportunities like that, and you deserved it more than anyone. I knew you knew that, and I didn’t want you to let anything get in the way of that… not in the way of your life, not your dream.”
“Brian, you keep using ‘life’ and ‘dream’ like they’re the same thing, and they’re not. I need you to listen to me, just really listen, and not try to interpret what I’m saying into something else. Can you handle that?” He forced me to meet his eyes, and I nodded.
“I’m all ears.”
“New York is not my dream. It’s not my life; it’s not my home. It’s where I work, and it’s where I live. That’s all.” He paused, and took my hands into his. “Art is my dream, being an artist. Being able to give the gift of creation… I’ve always wanted to do that, to be able to express myself through these… these ways that are just so fundamentally different from how I was brought up to think and react. But art isn’t my life. Art isn’t what makes me want to wake up every day, and keep going, week after week.”
I tilted my head, casting my eyes downward for a moment, before looking back up at his. He leaned in and kissed me softly, his tongue gently peeking in between my lips before pulling away. I waited for whatever was coming next.
“Brian, you are my life. Not art, not New York… only you. Everything that’s good in my life, or that has been in the past six years… almost everything comes back to you… So you asked me what I’m doing here today, why I came to see you?” he continued.
I nodded for what seemed like the millionth time. This was what I’d been waiting for, the answer I needed to hear, whatever it was.
“I came here to tell you that I want my life back.” His eyes pierced into mine, and I almost shivered from the intensity that washed over me. He paused briefly. “I want to come home.” A small smile settled on his lips as he waited expectantly for my reaction.
“You’re giving up on New York?” The words stupidly left my mouth before I could think to stop them, even though I didn’t mean them in the way I knew he’d take them.
He glared. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said? New York was a means to an end, a meaningless place now. I have an agent and I have connections… I don’t need to be there, Brian. There’s nothing in the city that makes me want to stay so badly that I can keep doing this to myself, to us… “
“No, I know that, I just mean… you’re coming back here? For good?” It was almost too easy. I had dreaded the idea of having to ask him myself.
“I don’t know if it’s for good, you don’t know if you’ll be here for good… But it’s not here so much as you. This is where my life is. And we both know who inspires some of my best dreams, so I’m not worried about that.” He poked me gently in the side, and I smiled at his double entendre.
I cleared my throat. “I wanted to ask you… you know, to come home… but, I just couldn’t… I didn’t want you to -“ I began to explain.
“I love you too, Brian,” he replied softly, grinning. “At least we’re on the same page.”
“We always have been,” I admitted sheepishly.
His expression grew serious once more. “You’re not mad? I mean I know it’s only been a year, but… a year was enough for what I needed to do. Too long to stay away from everyone here.”
“How the fuck could I possibly be mad? I wasn’t kidding when I said I just wanted you to be happy, no matter where that is… So, if you want to be happy in the Pitts…” I trailed off.
“All the better for you?” he teased, leaning against me and nestling his head in the nook created by my neck and shoulder.
“Yeah.” I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll save an shitload on cell phone bills. You were really running my peak minutes up the wall.”
His elbow managed to find my ribs, and I gasped in a combination of pain and laughter. “You’re an asshole.”
I raised an eyebrow. “If I’m not mistaken, dear, that’s your title.”
He stood up in mock protest, hands on hips. “I think I’ve earned the right to choose tonight.” He frowned. “And that’s still all I am to you? After all of this?”
“You know you’re not -“ I began, before I realized that he was joking. I whacked him in the hip with a pillow. “Fuck you.”
“We’ll see about that,” he grinned. “I do have to go back for a couple more weeks, to finish some things, so let’s not let this weekend go to waste. C’mon, old man. I’ll race you upstairs.” He turned and headed toward the main staircase in the foyer.
I stood and began following behind him at a leisurely pace. “You can just assume the position when you get to our room,” I teasingly called out after him.
He stopped mid-stride, and turned to face me. “Our room?” The expression on his face erased any iota of doubt that had ever entered my mind about whether or not this was the right thing to do.
“Yes, Sunshine. Ours. It’s about time this little investment stopped collecting dust. It’s gone long enough without us.”
He sidled up next to me and wrapped his arms around me, pressing a firm kiss to my lips. “I love you, Brian. Thank you.”
I kissed him deeply, pulling him close, and for the first time in over a year - maybe even ever - everything felt completely right. When we separated, I pulled back slightly and smiled down at him.
“Welcome home.”
Written by: asm614
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, Mild Angst, Post-513
Summary: On the one-year anniversary of the day Justin left for New York, Brian spends an evening at the manor, but not exactly as he anticipated.
A.N.: Title credit belongs to lyrics from “Come Back Down” by Lifehouse. Also, thanks to missyerable for being a most wonderful beta!
Request: Brian/Justin. More then PWP if possible. Angst is fine as long as it all works out in the end.
Requested by: thoughtful_kaos
***
I knew something wasn’t right as soon as I walked into the house, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. The alarm had been on when I pulled the Vette into the garage, so for all intents and purposes, I had no reason to assume anyone else had been there. Besides that, I was the only one with the security code.
I made my way into the kitchen, hitting light switches as I went. Still, nothing seemed to be remotely awry. I dropped my keys on the island counter, cursing my own neuroticism. I’d been spending too much time alone lately.
It was the one-year anniversary of the day Justin had left for New York, and I knew that everyone else was just as aware and watching me like hawks. Hell, even Cynthia had gone out of her way to be extra nice to me at the office. As soon as I noticed the absence of her usually snarky behavior, I knew why, but I wasn’t about to call her on it. Acknowledging it would imply that I cared; that this day was having an effect on me. Sure, I’d changed irrevocably in the past several months, but that didn’t mean I had to admit it. At least not to any of them.
After work, I decided that the best idea was to head out to the house. I had been spending a bit more time working on it lately, and I knew that there, I could avoid pity parties and Mikey’s pleas for me to come to Babylon to keep my poor wittle mind occupied. Lindsay knew how to get in touch with me if there was a problem with Gus, and she also knew better than to call and try to offer sympathy for my “loss.”
It wasn’t that I never saw Justin. In fact, he’d been right - we did see each other almost all the time. I tried to fly or drive to New York City at least three times a month, and paid the airfare for him to come home when he could. But as nice as it was to spend long weekends and most holidays with him, it wasn’t the same as falling asleep and waking up beside him every day. I couldn’t meet him at the diner for lunch or convince him to drop by my office for an afternoon quickie at a moment’s notice. Nowadays, I always showered alone, and what no one else knew was that I had not fucked a single trick since the day I’d asked him to marry me. No lie. I just wasn’t interested. Needless to say, my right hand was getting quite the workout.
But I digress.
When I noticed the lack of discrepancies in the kitchen, I was almost completely convinced that I was entirely alone in the house, and that everything was just all in my head. It briefly occurred to me that if I intended to stay in the house for the weekend, I’d need to figure out an arrangement for some form of sustenance, but that could be figured out later. The one thing that the loft had over the manor was the accessibility to any kind of take out one could possibly fathom. Here, I was going to have to fend for myself. While the house was most often vacant, despite my occasional weekend visits, it seemed senseless to hire a cook.
I walked into the foyer and hung my black leather Armani jacket in the closet, making a mental note to pick up some mothballs the next time I went to a store. The house had developed something of a slightly musty scent to it, and I hoped there were still a few candles left in the living room, from one of the times Justin and I had escaped the Pitts for a weekend visit.
The great room was off to my right, and I decided to light a fire, hoping to ward off some of the chill in the house. I’d only had the heat running periodically, usually kicking on just before the weekend, otherwise there was no point while I wasn’t even in the state.
I took two steps into the room before the feeling of paranoia washed over me again. Something wasn’t right, and somehow, I knew that I wasn’t making this up. The darkness of the room was not providing me with any kind of comfort either. I tried to force my eyes to adjust to the surrounding area.
I took another few hesitant steps toward the center of the room, making my way toward the fireplace. I knew there was a torch lighter that I kept on the mantle, and once I reached that, I’d be able to maneuver my way to one of the lamps around the room. There was a rustle behind me, and I turned so quickly that I had to struggle to regain my balance. I couldn’t make out anything in the darkness, so I turned back, shaking my head. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the chain on one of the lamps being pulled, and the area behind me was illuminated.
“What the fuck?” I instinctively turned back, and my jaw hit the floor.
He was sitting there in the corner of the sofa, with the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen in my life. “Did I scare you?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Justin, you almost gave me a heart attack!” I sputtered. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I thought you’d come here today,” he replied simply, as if it was an obvious reason.
“And you got in how?” I was still in complete and total shock.
“I missed you too, Brian,” he smirked before continuing. “You gave me a key one of the times I was here. And you use the same alarm code as the loft.”
“I never told you that.”
“I figured I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. So when it worked, I came in and then reset it so it would still be on when you got here. After I put it back on, I had a minute to decide where to wait while before it was completely armed.” A small smile played at the corners of his mouth; I could tell he was proud of himself.
“And how long did you sit in the dark room, completely still, waiting for me to get here?” I asked, massaging my chin as I processed his words.
“An hour.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “You, Justin Taylor, were capable of remaining motionless for more than two minutes?”
“It’s amazing, I know.” The grin slowly reformed. “Are you going to stand there and interrogate me all day, or are you going to come over here and greet me properly?”
He didn’t have to ask twice. I easily closed the distance between us in two strides, and he stood to meet me as I approached. We enveloped each other, taking a moment to savor the feel of being back in something so familiar, so real.
I tangled my fingers in his hair. It amazed me that it was always so soft. I yanked softly, tilting his face up toward mine, and brought my lips down to meet his. He responded immediately and we kissed hungrily, our arms and hands not knowing where to move next.
He started to reach for my tie, but I stopped him, knowing that the inevitable would eventually ensue, but I really did need him to answer a few things first. I couldn’t help the nagging feeling that the day had placed in my gut.
“So are you going to tell me what you’re doing in my house?” I asked as soon as I could force myself to release him from my arms. Even in doing so, I couldn’t help but press a quick kiss to his temple before he stepped back.
“I didn’t forget about today… I knew you wouldn’t either, since you always manage to casually slip in how long I’ve been gone,” he smirked.
I rolled my eyes and suppressed a smile. I’d always hoped he hadn’t noticed. I should’ve known better. Justin always managed to catch everything, no matter how minute.
But then his eyes got serious and he crossed his arms against his chest. “I thought this was our house, by the way. What’s this ‘my house’ business?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I… Justin, it is our house, but you’re not here… you don’t live here,” I tried to explain, knowing that any attempt would fail miserably anyway, and made a mental note to think before I opened my mouth in the future.
“Neither do you,” he countered. “You never did sell the loft.”
“This place is too big for just me. You’re in New York, and Gus is in Toronto, so there’s no reason to stay here very often,” I lied. He hadn’t been back to Pittsburgh in awhile, so he had no real way of knowing just how often I had been using the manor.
“Michael told me you’ve been coming here almost every weekend.” He gave me a defiant look, challenging me to respond.
Fucking Mikey.
“Then why’d you bring it up?” I shot back, trying to match his expression.
“To see if you’d tell me,” was his reply.
I figured I owed him an explanation, so I made it simple and shrugged, “No disruptions here.”
He looked worried for a minute. “Am I disrupting you then?”
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous. You’re just about the only person I wanted to see today.” I paused. “I… I didn’t think I would. You’re getting good with surprises, Sunshine.”
He beamed and my heart swelled, but I wasn’t going to let him off that easily.
“I fucking hate surprises.”
He gave me an impish grin. “So I shouldn’t randomly drop in for visits?” His tone was innocent and playful, and I hated to change the mood of the conversation, but I knew I needed to.
My response was serious as I accepted the realization that I needed to just swallow my fucking pride and confess. “No, you shouldn’t.”
His eyes widened then clouded over, and his face fell. “I’m sorry, I just thought that -“
I cut him off. “Justin, are you happy?” The abruptness of the question caught us both off guard, but I had to ask.
“Well, I -“ I could see his hesitation as he searched my face, trying to decide where this was going to lead.
“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Just be honest.” My voice was probably sharper than I had intended, but I needed this answer.
He looked into my eyes for a few seconds before responding. He was scared; I could see it. Even after six years, his eyes still didn’t lie.
He seemed to consider his options then began to speak. “Aren’t I supposed to be happy? Isn’t that what you wanted, Brian?” he asked slowly. “I don’t really know what you want me to say.”
“I just told you, the truth.”
“But whose truth? I don’t know if they’re always the same.” He seemed troubled, and I could almost smell a fight brewing.
“Look, I’m not going to get pissed off, no matter what you say. I just want to know.” I kept my voice as even as possible.
“How could you not know? Why do you even need to ask? You’ve been to visit me in the city; you’ve seen my job and my place. What is there to question?” His hands gesticulated his frustration and his voice began to rise.
“Well it’s not like you’re sitting in your apartment crying every time I walk in the door.” I was starting to lose my temper at his inability to answer one fucking question.
“Then sure I’m happy, if that’s all it takes. I’m happy as a fucking clam. I love my life and I have everything I could possibly want now. Is that what you want to hear?” He was practically yelling.
“Jesus Christ, Justin!” I threw my hands up and rolled my eyes, unable to contain my irritation. “I asked you one question. One fucking yes or no question.”
“I. Don’t. Know. What. You. Want. Me. To. Say.” He enunciated every word carefully, and part of me wanted to pull a Debbie and slap him upside the head, but when I saw that he looked like he was about ready to cry, I immediately softened my tone.
“I just want to know if you’re happy. Are you living the way you wanted to live? Is this your dream? That’s all I’m asking.”
He snorted. “That’s a fucking lot to ask.” He stared at me evenly. “Are you?”
I wasn’t expecting him to turn the tables, so his question took me slightly aback. “This isn’t about me right now. You answer me first.” Okay, so that was partly a lie. The conversation had a lot more to do with me than I was ready to acknowledge.
He sighed, and knew that for once, I wasn’t going to let him win. Actually, that’s a big fucking lie. He won on his own, without my concession, more frequently than I cared to admit. But this time, I stood firm.
He sank back down onto the sofa, and I joined him, sitting so that we were facing each other. “Brian… why are you asking me this? I don’t know how to answer because I don’t know what you’re thinking, or what my answers might mean to this… to us…” he admitted.
My tongue found its way into my cheek as I nodded. “Fair enough, but how so?”
“You’re the one who finally encouraged me to go to New York, and I did… I am pursuing my dream, you’re right. Five years ago, I never could’ve imagined this happening to me. I thought I’d be graduating from Dartmouth, and getting ready for my MBA. This is more than I ever could’ve hoped for… In that respect, yes, I’m happy. I’m thrilled. I can’t believe that this is what I do now, that I have art shows and a good agent. But if I tell you I’m happy in New York, then what? Are you going to cut me loose again? Tell me to find someone there to make me even happier? And if I tell you I’m not happy there, then you’ll tell me I haven’t given it enough time, that I’m not trying hard enough. I don’t feel like there’s a right answer to give you. We have been through this before,” he reminded.
I processed his words before I began to speak. “Justin, I want you to be happy -“
“But you can’t create my happiness for me, Brian. You can’t wave a magic wand from 500 miles away and expect my entire world to fill up with roses.” His tone was filled with exasperation.
“Would you let me finish?”
“Go ahead.” He sighed and waited expectantly.
“If New York is your dream, if it’s become your life now… I want you to have that. I just want you to be sure that it’s what you want.” I began.
He blinked a few times. “I am so fucking confused right now, Brian.”
“I just want you to have whatever it is that makes you happy, whatever it is, and whatever it takes,” I replied simply. I realized that I could’ve made this whole conversation far less complicated if I’d just said what I wanted right off the bat, but I couldn’t bring myself to open up and expose myself that completely. I’d watched him walk away from me more than once, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that essentially happening again.
He started to speak, but then stopped to think for a couple of seconds, and suddenly something changed in his eyes. I took a deep breath and anticipated what he was going to say next.
“Why don’t you tell me what it is that you really wanted to say? You never interrogate me like this when we’re together. What’s this all about? I’m not answering anything else until you can at least tell me that.” His tone was firm, unwavering.
I knew I wasn’t cut out for these types of conversations, for these confessions, and my heart beating at approximately warp speed gave me confirmation enough, but he was right. I owed him at least that.
I exhaled slowly before beginning to speak. “I always told myself that I’d never let anyone else into my life. I told myself that a long time ago, but then you came and everything changed, Justin. My entire life’s dynamic was severely fucked up…”
He looked at me skeptically. “This isn’t a great way to start…”
“You asked. I can stop.” I knew I sounded annoyed, but I also expected that he, of all people, would understand how difficult this whole emotional expression bit was for me.
He shook his head. “No… I’m sorry, keep going.”
I inhaled deeply and slowly let out the air before continuing. “You just got into this place in my life… in… my heart. I tried to get you out, but I couldn’t. I tried even when I didn’t want to try.” My eyes found their way to my lap and wouldn’t move. I needed to say this, but I couldn’t look at his face.
“So what now?” he asked, and I could tell by his voice that he was growing scared again.
“Sometime in the past two years… I realized I couldn’t try anymore. I didn’t want to. It would’ve been like losing a part of myself. That’s never happened to me with anyone else. Not even Mikey, and you have no idea how fucking scared that makes me,” I admitted, although I suspected that, more than anyone, he did get it; get me.
“I couldn’t ever see you without Michael in your life,” he replied, shaking his head. “That whole period last year when you weren’t talking just seemed unreal.”
“Yeah, well… it’s not to say we haven’t had our differences, and I’m sure we’ll still have some of them forever, but that’s not the point.” I glanced up at him and he nodded again.
“Go ahead.” Now he just seemed anxious.
“When I finally allowed myself to realize - to admit - what you meant to me, when we started making these plans for our life, New York came along, and you couldn’t pass that up. I couldn’t let you pass that up. Not for me.”
“But it wasn’t your decision to make -“ he started to argue, but I cut him off.
“You knew you couldn’t pass it up either. Justin, not many people get opportunities like that, and you deserved it more than anyone. I knew you knew that, and I didn’t want you to let anything get in the way of that… not in the way of your life, not your dream.”
“Brian, you keep using ‘life’ and ‘dream’ like they’re the same thing, and they’re not. I need you to listen to me, just really listen, and not try to interpret what I’m saying into something else. Can you handle that?” He forced me to meet his eyes, and I nodded.
“I’m all ears.”
“New York is not my dream. It’s not my life; it’s not my home. It’s where I work, and it’s where I live. That’s all.” He paused, and took my hands into his. “Art is my dream, being an artist. Being able to give the gift of creation… I’ve always wanted to do that, to be able to express myself through these… these ways that are just so fundamentally different from how I was brought up to think and react. But art isn’t my life. Art isn’t what makes me want to wake up every day, and keep going, week after week.”
I tilted my head, casting my eyes downward for a moment, before looking back up at his. He leaned in and kissed me softly, his tongue gently peeking in between my lips before pulling away. I waited for whatever was coming next.
“Brian, you are my life. Not art, not New York… only you. Everything that’s good in my life, or that has been in the past six years… almost everything comes back to you… So you asked me what I’m doing here today, why I came to see you?” he continued.
I nodded for what seemed like the millionth time. This was what I’d been waiting for, the answer I needed to hear, whatever it was.
“I came here to tell you that I want my life back.” His eyes pierced into mine, and I almost shivered from the intensity that washed over me. He paused briefly. “I want to come home.” A small smile settled on his lips as he waited expectantly for my reaction.
“You’re giving up on New York?” The words stupidly left my mouth before I could think to stop them, even though I didn’t mean them in the way I knew he’d take them.
He glared. “Have you been listening to a word I’ve said? New York was a means to an end, a meaningless place now. I have an agent and I have connections… I don’t need to be there, Brian. There’s nothing in the city that makes me want to stay so badly that I can keep doing this to myself, to us… “
“No, I know that, I just mean… you’re coming back here? For good?” It was almost too easy. I had dreaded the idea of having to ask him myself.
“I don’t know if it’s for good, you don’t know if you’ll be here for good… But it’s not here so much as you. This is where my life is. And we both know who inspires some of my best dreams, so I’m not worried about that.” He poked me gently in the side, and I smiled at his double entendre.
I cleared my throat. “I wanted to ask you… you know, to come home… but, I just couldn’t… I didn’t want you to -“ I began to explain.
“I love you too, Brian,” he replied softly, grinning. “At least we’re on the same page.”
“We always have been,” I admitted sheepishly.
His expression grew serious once more. “You’re not mad? I mean I know it’s only been a year, but… a year was enough for what I needed to do. Too long to stay away from everyone here.”
“How the fuck could I possibly be mad? I wasn’t kidding when I said I just wanted you to be happy, no matter where that is… So, if you want to be happy in the Pitts…” I trailed off.
“All the better for you?” he teased, leaning against me and nestling his head in the nook created by my neck and shoulder.
“Yeah.” I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll save an shitload on cell phone bills. You were really running my peak minutes up the wall.”
His elbow managed to find my ribs, and I gasped in a combination of pain and laughter. “You’re an asshole.”
I raised an eyebrow. “If I’m not mistaken, dear, that’s your title.”
He stood up in mock protest, hands on hips. “I think I’ve earned the right to choose tonight.” He frowned. “And that’s still all I am to you? After all of this?”
“You know you’re not -“ I began, before I realized that he was joking. I whacked him in the hip with a pillow. “Fuck you.”
“We’ll see about that,” he grinned. “I do have to go back for a couple more weeks, to finish some things, so let’s not let this weekend go to waste. C’mon, old man. I’ll race you upstairs.” He turned and headed toward the main staircase in the foyer.
I stood and began following behind him at a leisurely pace. “You can just assume the position when you get to our room,” I teasingly called out after him.
He stopped mid-stride, and turned to face me. “Our room?” The expression on his face erased any iota of doubt that had ever entered my mind about whether or not this was the right thing to do.
“Yes, Sunshine. Ours. It’s about time this little investment stopped collecting dust. It’s gone long enough without us.”
He sidled up next to me and wrapped his arms around me, pressing a firm kiss to my lips. “I love you, Brian. Thank you.”
I kissed him deeply, pulling him close, and for the first time in over a year - maybe even ever - everything felt completely right. When we separated, I pulled back slightly and smiled down at him.
“Welcome home.”