Brian’s laugh is no less sarcastic over a long distance line. “Right. That left-over-from-the-60’s so-artsy-I-could-puke geometric print thing--”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’re getting Armani.”

“Brian--”

“This conversation is over.”

Justin stares at the dead line for over a minute, contemplating the best revenge. No sex during Brian’s visit is the best option, but that just seems like punishing himself. He bites his nail and settles for throwing the phone… onto the sofa. He can’t afford to replace the fucking thing.

Justin finally smiles. Nothing says “I love you” like a new designer suit.