Maybe it was one of those things. Like, when you never really see something until someone points it out to you, or until you start thinking about it a lot, and then all of a sudden – you see dozens of a particular color of car, or you keep hearing the strains of a particular pop song, and it’s fucking everywhere, even though before then –

Anyway. They still lived in the same city. It wasn’t like it was that odd to see Chris Hobbes walking down the street in broad daylight.

Justin wanted to twist away, hide his face, but that would also mean turning his back, and something in Justin’s head shifted uncomfortably, clicked into place. Fight or flight, and Justin wasn’t running.

Hobbes didn’t see him, and kept on walking, a slight trace of swagger in his step, like it had always been there, like Justin hadn’t had him on his fucking knees. God, it had been less than two weeks ago, now. Justin hadn’t had a nightmare since, hadn’t been scared since -

Hobbes went into some hardware store across the parking lot, a hardware store that Justin hadn’t even realized was there before, and it wasn’t until the glass doors shut behind him that Justin felt like he could move.

A sudden motion right in Justin’s peripheral vision, and he flinched away even as he realized who it was.

“I thought you were going ahead to the car,” Brian said, and reached out to take one of the grocery bags from Justin’s tense hands. Justin made his fingers uncurl from the handle, but not quickly enough that Brian didn’t notice. “What?” said Brian. He squinted at Justin. “What is it?”

Justin smiled slightly. “Nothing,” he said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

*

By the time were in the Corvette and driving to the loft, Justin had already decided he wasn’t going to say anything, and Brian had already decided that something was wrong.

“What the fuck happened?” Brian asked, more angry than concerned. “I leave you alone for a second –“

“Nothing!” Justin snapped. “God. I hate shopping with you.” He kicked ineffectually at the grocery bags piled at his feet. Fuck. The Corvette was sex on wheels, but not so great for a trip to the supermarket. Oh wait. The organic foods market.

Brian cast him a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road. “No, you don’t,” he said quietly. “You love shopping with me.” Which they both knew was true. Brian’s unspoken words being “so what the fuck?”

Justin swallowed, and tried not to feel guilty for remaining silent. If he told Brian who he had seen, Brian would probably queen out and decide not to shop at that particular supermarket anymore, and he had already gone through two-thirds of the acceptable establishments in town.

“I just started thinking about some stuff, that’s all,” Justin said, hoping he’d leave it alone.

But Brian was listening intently, Justin could tell by the tilt of his head. Shit. Justin shook his head to clear it, but at his movement a sharp bolt of pain lanced through his skull, and he winced visibly.

Brian glanced at him. He looked back at the road, his expression hard, then pulled over at the next available parking space. Shut off the ignition.

“Justin, tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“The ice cream will melt,” said Justin. He leaned his forehead into his palm, the pressure alleviating some of his abrupt headache.

“Fuck the fucking ice cream!” Brian turned angrily, and reached out to grip Justin’s shoulder, but drew his hand back before he touched him. Instead, he clenched it on the steering wheel. “Tell me.”

Was Brian overreacting, or was Justin more visibly upset than he’d thought? Justin wasn’t sure. “Brian, I’m fine.”

“Tell me.” Now Brian just sounded worried, and Justin felt a flash of anger. It wasn’t Brian’s problem, he shouldn’t have to deal with this, he should just -

“No.” It came out more vehemently than Justin had meant it to, but he didn’t take it back.

Brian looked away, but Justin could see him still watching Justin’s reflection in the driver’s side window. And to add to the tense atmosphere, it was starting to rain. Big, fat drops began to hit the windshield with wet, pellet-like sounds, like tiny water balloons.

Brian, obviously frustrated with Justin’s silence, pulled out of the parking space and continued driving. The streets grew gray and slick, and so did the air around them, as the rain began falling harder.

*

Brian violently shoved a head of lettuce into the fridge on top of the other groceries, then slammed the door shut. The pots and pans in the cabinet nearby rattled along with the sound of distant thunder.

Justin’s fingers clenched on the magazine he was pretending to look at. The paper creased along the line of his thumb. God, he hated when that happened. Now the cover was too bent for him to flip the magazine pages easily.

“Brian,” he said, “Calm down.”

“You’re not in any position to tell me what to do, Sunshine.”

Justin growled and tossed the magazine down on the coffee table. “Brian! Fuck you. Stop being such an arrogant prick. I am fine.”

“Stop being such a self-righteous twat,” Brian said slowly, “And maybe I’ll consider letting you off the hook.”

Justin sighed, taking a deep breath and letting it out. He felt drained, exhausted from the effort of shielding himself from Brian’s questions, the effort of holding himself still. Justin thought if he didn’t keep his arms and legs tensed, he might just start running. And if he did, he wasn’t sure where he’d end up.

“Sorry,” said Justin, and Brian made a disgusted noise.

“Yeah,” said Brian. “Whatever. I can’t tell if you’re having a drama queen moment or if something actually happened. Give me a clue.”

“Brian, there’s nothing wrong. You’re just overreacting.” Wrong thing to say, Justin realized, even before the words left his mouth.

Brian looked at him for a moment, stony-faced. Then he grabbed his jacket from the bar counter.

“Fuck this,” he said. “I’m going out. I’ll be back when you’re not being such a brat.”

Justin froze, apprehension seizing in his chest. “How will you know if I’ve stopped being a brat if you’re not here?”

Brian glared, and slid open the loft door to exit. “I won’t. But if I fuck enough young, hot asses first, maybe I won’t care. If you decide to go back to Daphne’s, set the alarm.”

The loft door didn’t echo as it shut, but then again, it never did.

*

Part Two: rhythms that never come clean

For some reason, they were curled up in Justin’s old bed at home. Not home as in the loft, or Daphne’s, or his mom’s, but home as in his first home. The sheets were crisp and white, and the coverlet was the old ratty blue one that his mom had long since thrown out.

He wanted to tell Brian that he hadn’t been back in that house since he was seventeen, and it hadn’t really changed much – the new owners had left all his stuff there, all the sketches and magazine pictures were still on the walls, (although it did seem like there were too many boxes under the bed and he wondered what was in them) – but really it didn’t seem that important. Besides, Brian wouldn’t care, he’d just smile maddeningly or ignore him.

Sometimes Brian seemed far too much like a character from Alice in Wonderland.

Brian was touching Justin’s hand, stroking it along the palm-side. Slowly, he lifted Justin’s hand up, waiting until Justin spread his fingers wide, then pressing his own hand against it, matching up their fingers.

“Your hands are always bigger than I remember,” Brian said.

Justin pressed harder against Brian’s hand, trying to force Brian’s wrist back, but he didn’t budge. Justin’s shoulder ached with the amount of force he was exerting.

“But you’re stronger,” said Justin. “See? And your fingers are longer than mine. And the palm of your hand is broader. Wide. Across.”

“Justin, all you do is complain,” Brian said. Justin had a feeling he should be offended, but he decided it wasn’t worth it.

“Anyway, look,” said Brian. He flipped their hands around, and brought them in front of Justin’s face. “Look at your hand.”

Justin looked. His hand was covered in faded scrapes and nicks, and the skin around his fingernails was raw and pushed back. There were smudges of charcoal and lead on his knuckles. Rough calluses on his middle and index fingers, and on his thumb.

“Yeah, so?” said Justin. “Those are artist’s hands. They’re supposed to look like that.”

Brian’s hand changed under his, the skin fading and roughening slightly. The length was the same. His father’s hand.

Craig tucked closer to Justin, breathing hot in his face. “I thought you were going to listen to me,” he said.

Justin tugged his hand away. “I don’t want to.”

“But I told you always to remember,” said Craig, and then a blink and he was Brian again, “Never say something if you don’t mean it. Don’t lie. Don’t steal. Listen to your mother.”

Justin didn’t remember Brian saying any of that. How could he be blamed for not listening?

“Shit!” Brian swore, and Justin jerked awake.

“What?” said Justin. He blinked and turned over, rubbing the grit from his eyes. Brian loomed in the shadows at the side of the bed.

“Nothing, I just stubbed my fucking toe. Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?” Justin asked sleepily. “Mmm, Brian, what time is it?”

Brian slid under the covers with a slight wince. His hair looked damp. “When did you go to sleep?” he asked, not answering Justin’s question. “You’re usually still up.”

“Mmm, I was tired,” mumbled Justin. “I dunno.”

“Okay,” said Brian. He touched Justin’s shoulder. “Go back to sleep, okay?”

Justin burrowed back under the covers, and rolled underneath Brian’s outstretched arm. Brian scooted closer and tightened his embrace slightly. Justin could still hear the rain outside.

“Yeah,” Justin breathed, and then he was asleep again.

*

Daphne was shopping for a big orange feather boa. Justin had tried to tell her it would make her skin look washed out, but she ignored him. “I can pull off that look,” she said. “It’s the anorexic model look.”

The lights in the mall kept flickering and dimming, and Justin got more and more tense. He could tell that someone was following them.

“Daph,” he said. “Daph, we should get out of here.”

“Just a minute,” she said, and dug through a box of brightly-colored boas. She hadn’t found an orange one yet.

“I really think we should go,” said Justin, and he started to tug at Daphne’s arm. “C’mon. Please?”

He heard a noise behind them, and tugged more urgently. Daphne finally looked up and registered the alarm on Justin’s face.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said.

They ran out of the shop and down the long hall, passing darkened storefronts. Justin could feel something watching his back, and it seemed to be keeping pace with them. He didn’t want to turn around and look, because he was afraid he wouldn’t see anything.

Daphne had run up ahead of him slightly. “Wait!” She turned. “Brian’s still here,” Justin called. “We can’t leave without him.”

“You’re right. We should split up and go find him.” Daphne gestured to her right. “I’ll go this way.” She disappeared down another hallway.

Shit. Justin was filled with dread. Somehow he knew that he wouldn’t see Daphne again. Fuck. Fuck, no.

Justin took a breath and looked for the exit. Maybe Brian had already gone home? He found a door and pushed it open. It was still daylight outside. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Justin looked both ways and crossed the street toward the loft, jogging slightly. If Brian wasn’t there, Justin wanted to return to the mall in time to find him, before anything bad happened. He slipped inside the building and ran up the stairs, the steps bending under his feet like rotten wood.

When he got to the top, he knocked on the door. “Brian!” Pause. He knocked again. “Brian, are you there? Answer me!”

He should use his key.

Justin stepped back and reached into his pocket at the same time that the loft door opened, and Chris Hobbes reached out, all bloody blown-apart face and rotting hands, to pull him inside.

“Justin!”

Justin yelled, lashing out at the horrible thing that held him. But he didn’t feel crawling, itching maggots against his skin, he felt familiar flesh. “Justin!” he heard again, and this time it was Brian’s voice.

“No,” said Justin. “No, no, not again, no –“ He’d stopped having that same fucking nightmare over and over, it couldn’t be back – and different this time, worse, with Hobbes’s face – like someone had shot him -

Brian rolled on top of him, straddling his waist and holding Justin’s face tightly. “Shh. Shh! Justin, you’re okay. You’re safe. Just take a deep breath.”

Justin took a deep breath, and then took another. “Shit,” he gasped. “Okay. Sorry.”

Brian still didn’t move. Justin couldn’t see Brian’s face very well, and he squinted, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

“You little shit,” Brian said. His voice was tight. “You haven’t had a nightmare in days now. And this was a bad one.” Just statement. Brian didn’t ask any more questions.

Justin took another breath, pushing the dream aside. With those images out of his head, he felt almost normal.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Not really. I guess I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause - I thought you’d worry, and I couldn’t take that.”

Brian looked down at him, gaze unreadable in the dimness. After a beat, Brian’s shoulders relaxed, like he was visibly deciding to play things Justin’s way.

“Who’s worrying?” Voice light, Brian climbed off of Justin and laid down beside him, then pulled Justin closer, close enough to tuck Justin’s head beneath his chin.

Justin made himself settle into Brian’s loose embrace. Brian stroked softly down his back, fingers running gently along his spine, tracing every bump and ridge of bone smoothly buried beneath Justin’s skin.

Justin felt the nervous energy start to drain away, the itching in his fingers and knuckles slowly subside. It had been too long. He’d let himself forget what Brian’s touch could do to him.

“I saw Hobbes,” Justin said softly. Brian’s hand stilled on his back, then with a pause and a slight twitch of fingers, continued on its soothing path.

“In your dream?” asked Brian, but Justin could tell Brian knew what he meant.

“No. Umm, I saw him going into a hardware store in the shopping center,” Justin continued. “He didn’t see me. But - I didn’t know being near him again would still feel so weird. I thought I was over it now.”

Thought he was over it, thought he was over it –

Shit.

Justin felt a tremor start in his hands, and knew, god it’d been so long since it had happened, but he knew that the trembling would work its way up his arms, to his shoulders, until he was just shaking and couldn’t stop. Justin reached up and clenched his fingers in Brian’s hair, gripping Brian’s skull, willing the shakes to subside.

“Over it. Why? Because of what happened with whatsisface last week?” Brian’s voice was strangely soothing next to Justin’s ear, and he didn’t complain about the death grip Justin had on his scalp.

It hadn’t been last week, it had been the week before. But maybe in Brian’s mind it had seemed more recent. Fuck, it was pretty recent already, and Justin hadn’t even thought of how –

No wonder Brian had been so pissed.

“Yeah,” said Justin. “When Cody took me to Hobbes’s house.”

Brian said nothing for a moment, too busy breathing in the smell of Justin’s hair, hands starting to wander down and tug at the waistband of Justin’s underwear.

“You never told me what happened there,” Brian whispered urgently. “Tell me now.”

Justin twisted around and kissed him firmly, a shudder running through his body. Brian’s mouth parted, already panting faintly, as he breathed around Justin’s lips.

“Tell me,” he repeated. His lips brushed against Justin’s as he spoke.

Justin shook his head, knocking their noses together, but unwilling to bring their faces any farther apart. “Later,” he said. “Anyway, I’m fine.” Like maybe if he said it enough...

“You’re not fine,” Brian said sharply, yet it still came out comforting. “Shit, you’re really not. You’re shaking.”

“No, no. I’ll be okay.”

Brian blinked at him, disbelieving. Asked, “What do you need?” but his hands on Justin’s hips showed that he already knew.

Justin shuddered again. “Just – fuck me.”

He didn’t mean fuck me, though. He meant something else.

Meant something that was scared and angry and hope and why do I feel like this and oh god all at once. Justin gasped against Brian’s mouth, grabbed his shoulders like Brian was keeping him afloat.

“Fuck me, fuck me -” fuck me, oh God.

“Shhh,” said Brian. He slid his hands into Justin’s underwear, inching them off as best he could. Justin lifted his ass so Brian could get them off the rest of the way, but they ended up tangled around his knees as Brian leaned in to kiss him again

*

Part Three: and strengths that you still haven't seen

Justin let out a groan as Brian slid smoothly into him, his cock hard and slick in Justin’s ass. Brian brushed his fingers through the hair at Justin’s neck, just now starting to grow out from the severe buzz.

Justin pressed his head back against Brian’s palm, and Brian slid his hand along Justin’s scalp, the short hair bristling in whorls against his fingertips and sending a slow burn of arousal through Justin’s body.

Brian rolled his hips, pressing further into Justin, filling him up, receding. He repeated the motion, with long and easy strokes. His hand moved to Justin’s forehead and applied just enough pressure to make Justin’s back arch, bringing him back against Brian’s chest, and Justin stretched until the nape of his neck brushed against Brian’s shoulder. Brian tucked his chin into Justin’s neck, mouth pressed against Justin’s ear. His legs were tangled with Justin’s, his left leg slung over Justin’s hip to bring him even closer.

And they were so close already. They were so, so close to each other. Sometimes Justin felt like he lived for those moments.

Brian’s other arm was curled under Justin’s stomach, like he was trying to cover Justin completely from all angles. His position didn’t give him much room to move against Justin, so he kept rolling his hips, taking short thrusts in and out.

It was intense, but different from a hard fuck – Justin just felt a building sweetness, a sweetness that threatened to break him apart.

“Brian,” he said breathlessly, “Can you – harder?”

Brian bit at Justin’s earlobe. “No, I - Fuck. It – this has to be slow,” he muttered.

“Brian,” Justin said again, and pressed even tighter against Brian’s body, squeezing his ass around Brian’s cock. Brian groaned quietly and didn’t say anything, twisting his hips slightly on his downward stroke. Justin’s grip tightened on the sheets.

And Brian tightened his grasp on Justin, winding himself into any empty space between them. Justin was gasping, something had been triggered and he was starting to writhe, attempting to get some friction on his own dick.

“Justin, I’ve never made you promise me anything,” Brian breathed in his ear. “Hardly ever. But just listen to me. Promise me –“

Justin stilled, managing to control the pleasured jerks of his muscles. He listened intently, but Brian didn’t go on. It took Justin a moment to realize that Brian had buried his face in Justin’s hair, and his shoulders were shuddering.

Justin turned loose of the sheet, and reached one hand over his shoulder to stroke Brian’s hair. At Justin’s touch, Brian jerked his head upright and continued.

“Promise me that you’ll fucking tell me immediately if you see him again,” Brian said. “He won’t hurt you. You’re a different person now – you’re strong, you’re fucking brave, you always are – and he’ll have to get through me, and if I see that son of a bitch...”

Brian didn’t continue, and lowered his face back to Justin’s hair. Justin thought, dimly, He already got through you once, and was horrified at himself for it.

“I promise,” said Justin. “I promise.”

Brian thrust into him again, and then Brian was coming, letting out a muffled, breathless “God.” His hands shook on Justin’s body.

They stayed like that for a long moment.

“Love you,” Justin whispered. “Love you.”

Brian kissed his ear and started to unwind himself, slowly easing out of Justin. Justin bit his lip at the loss. Brian stripped off the condom, and tossed it in the general direction of the wastebasket.

He sagged back onto the bed next to Justin, breathing hard. Justin rolled onto his back, resting his head in the crook of Brian’s arm.

After a long silence, Brian said “You still hard?”

“Yeah,” Justin half-laughed. Brian had purposely broken the emotional thickness between them. Justin was absurdly grateful. “I’m still hard. Bastard.”

“Give me a minute,” Brian said, smiling, “That was just round one.” He nudged Justin back onto his side and started to run his hands over Justin’s back, digging his thumbs into tense muscle. Justin relaxed into his hands.

“Mmm. This is good, Brian,” Justin said. “Thank you.”

“Asshole. Don’t thank me,” said Brian. He started massaging the back of Justin’s neck. “Have I updated you on the latest office bullshit?”

“Nope.”

“Cynthia is going nuts with the plans for the launch party,” said Brian. He snorted. “The caterers haven’t called her back yet, and she’s bitching at Ted.” Brian kept his voice lowered and soothing, a hard thing to compromise with his acerbic comments.

“Mmm,” said Justin. He sagged further into the mattress. “Do that again. Ted? Why him?”

“He keeps worrying about staying sober at the launch, like he might accidentally fall and land face-first in a puddle of champagne. Cynthia doesn’t have the luxury of telling him to shut up or he’ll lose his job.”

Justin said nothing, feeling soft ripples of Brian’s touch on his skin.

“Of course, she said the next best thing – ‘shut up or I’ll ruin my new French manicure by removing your face,’ which is something that I could never truthfully say, so the two of us are even.”

He teased the back of Justin’s neck with his tongue, paused. “And no comments about me getting manicures, either. You twat, I know you’re thinking it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Justin said sleepily. “The clients?”

“The clients are as grateful and adoring as ever,” Brian said with a smirk in his voice. “Don’t you know I’m a genius? They love me. It sounds like we’re going to have a huge turnout for the party.”

“Gonna make a speech?”

Brian smoothed a hand down Justin’s shoulder, reaching around to Justin’s stomach and gently stroking the soft skin there. “Speech? Of course,” he said. “I love speeches.”

Justin laughed quietly. “Knew it.”

“You’ll be there,” Brian said.

“Of course,” Justin said. “I’ll be there. Best night of your life, ‘course I’ll be there.”

Brian flattened his hand against Justin’s abdomen, ran it down skin until he found coarse hair, Justin’s hardened cock, and then he paused. “Yeah,” Brian said, finally. There was an odd tone in his voice. “Of course.”

Justin’s brow furrowed, and he roused himself to concentrate on Brian. Something was off. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous?”

Brian snorted, pressed his face against Justin’s shoulder. “I’m nervous as hell. But enough about Kinnetik, this is supposed to be distracting you, is it working?”

“Mmmhmm,” murmured Justin, “But I’d be even more distracted if you make me come.”

Brian was silent for a beat, then he half-laughed. Grasping Justin’s cock, Brian gave him a hard stroke. Justin let out a moan.

He’d been expecting a little bit more teasing first, but – this was good, too.

Brian rubbed against Justin’s back, his dick riding the crack of Justin’s ass. “You’re pretty out of it, aren’t you? If you fall asleep while I’m jerking you off, I swear –“

“I’ll try not to,” Justin said. His voice sounded distant, like his brain had shut down and his conversation skills were on auto-pilot.

Brian brought his hand to Justin’s mouth and slid two fingers in, gently stroking Justin’s tongue with them, hooking them behind Justin’s lower teeth. He gave Justin’s lip a little tug, then reached back down to his cock, his hand sticky and wet with Justin’s saliva. Justin groaned and pressed into his hand.

“Shh,” said Brian. He massaged the tip of Justin’s cock with his fingers, then when Justin started shuddering, he moved to the shaft, dragging his fingertips along the side, down, up, back again.

“Brian,” Justin managed. “Brian.”

Brian gripped Justin’s cock harder, and gave a few quick jerks while biting at where Justin’s neck met his shoulder. Justin exhaled shakily as he came, his body clenching and unclenching with release.

“Justin,” Brian said quietly, and that was all. He didn’t move his hand, no longer stroking, just supporting Justin’s cock with his palm as it began to soften.

“Hmm,” Justin said, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He felt like he was sinking into something deep, floating with only Brian’s arms around him.

Brian let Justin’s dick slip from his hand, wiped his palm on the sheets, and pulled the covers up over both of them. He tucked himself against Justin’s side. Justin grunted appreciatively.

“Go to sleep,” Brian murmured. “It’ll be morning before you know it.”

*

Justin was drawing on his computer, tracing the lines of a face. He felt the hum of electricity between his pen and the monitor, crackling slightly and creating color deep in circuits.

Justin didn’t know whose face it was yet, but he suspected that it was his own.

Brian was behind him, and kept tugging on his hair, leaning into him. Slipping his hands under the hem of Justin’s T-shirt. It wasn’t distracting Justin at all, in fact he hardly noticed it, but he asked Brian to stop anyway.

“Not until you tell me,” Brian said.

“Tell you what?”

“Everything. Tell me, tell me, tell me.” Brian punctuated his words with more tugs on Justin’s hair.

“Be quiet, I’m trying to work,” Justin said, and he batted Brian off. “Besides, since when do you want to know anything?”

Brian slumped to the floor, crossing his legs like a child. “Since you stopped wanting to tell me.”

Justin paused and turned to Brian, feeling the eyes of his drawing stare at the side of his face. “I never stopped.”

Brian looked at his feet. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

Brian, with one easy motion, tugged Justin onto the floor next to him. The grain of the wood seemed to squirm underneath him. Justin said, “My face – I need to finish it.”

“Yeah, it’s good. Your very first self-portrait?”

“Hey, how did you know? I didn’t tell you that,” Justin said, protesting, and Brian made an Aha, see? expression with his face. “Hey! I tell you lots of things!”

“Right,” said Brian. He kissed Justin on the side of the neck, but Justin didn’t feel it. He just felt what it was supposed to be.

“I’m dreaming,” said Justin. “I’m going to wake up soon. That’s what happens with the good ones. You wake up.”

“Shh,” said Brian, and he got real close up in Justin’s face, until all Justin could see was Brian’s eyes spanning the width of his vision. It made Justin slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to be the one to back down.

“You know that’s only if you want to wake up,” Brian said, and his voice thrummed along Justin’s pores like the kisses didn’t.

“I have to wake up,” said Justin. “That’s what’s done.”

“Be unconventional,” said Brian. He stood up and tugged Justin along behind him, as they crossed into a different room and swung open a big screen door. The door opened directly onto the park, and Justin wondered how they’d gotten so easily from the loft to there.

The green of the grass was so green it hurt his eyes, and Justin’s fingers twitched, expecting to still hold his tablet pen. There were trees, and an empty swing set, and a solitary dog (at least Justin thought it was a dog) skulking around without an owner or a leash.

“This is pretty,” said Justin. “Why did you bring me here?”

A loud honking, buzzing sound interrupted Brian’s response, and Justin jumped.

Then cracked his eyes open, feeling the return of the mattress underneath his body, the tell-tale drag of cloth on his skin. He was in bed. Justin fumbled for the snooze button on the alarm clock. Shit. Hadn’t either of them remembered to turn the fucking thing off last night?

The dream was already fading in his mind, and Justin tried to grab on to the threads of image for a moment, then gave up the task in favor of yawning. He grunted and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms out above his head until he felt the sweet strain in his muscles, the slight crack and pop in his spine.

Brian was a motionless lump in the bed beside him, his head half-buried underneath his pillow, brown hair sticking out in tufts. One hand was curled protectively over his ear, as if to hide his face as much as possible. Justin slowly got out of bed to make coffee.

The pot was already half-brewed when Brian blearily stumbled up to the kitchen counter. Justin raised an eyebrow at him, then went ahead and poured a cup for him, even though it hadn’t steeped yet and would taste like shit. Brian put enough sugar in the stuff that he’d never be able to tell.

Brian accepted the mug, dumped in about half the sugar cubes from the jar, and, bringing it up to his face, peered at Justin over the rim.

Justin blinked. “What?”

Brian blinked back at him, then took a sip of his coffee and made a face. He’d probably burnt his tongue, the shit was still way too hot. “Hmm,” Brian muttered. “You okay?”

Justin tried to think of why he wouldn’t be okay, his mind still somewhat bleary. What -

As he concentrated, the events of yesterday quickly resurfaced.

Seeing Hobbes. Being pissy and scared shitless at nothing. Brian being pissy right back at him, leaving, then coming back – when? During the night? Justin had a vague memory of hearing his voice. Justin had gone to sleep early, tired and frustrated, hoping that some rest would keep a migraine from coming on.

Brian apparently noticed his confusion. “You had a nightmare.”

A nightmare. Justin tried to dredge up more memory of last night, but a lot had been erased by sleep and haziness. After the bashing, and all those scary-as-fuck dreams every night after that, he’d always been thankful for when that happened.

He thought he might remember having the nightmare. No specifics, just the way he’d felt when he’d woken up. Justin had woken up... and Brian had been there. They’d fucked. They’d –

Justin looked at Brian a little more closely, trying to figure out what, if anything, was going on in his head. He couldn’t help it – old habits die hard, or some such bullshit. At least now Justin knew what he was looking for, and could find it easily.

And yeah - It was right there, in the glance that Brian sent him, reflecting in the liquid sheen of his coffee. Justin smiled slightly.

“I’m okay,” said Justin. “I don’t really remember any of it, now.”

Brian nodded and took another sip of coffee, his wince at the heat less noticeable this time. “Good,” he said. He kissed Justin on the cheek, then padded off to the bathroom. He probably expected Justin to join him.

The coffeemaker gave a resounding gurgle, and Justin glanced at it.

It was strange. Justin didn’t remember much of the nightmare or its aftermath, but he did remember seeing Chris Hobbes again. Vividly. He’d felt so fucked-up and angry afterward, just like always, just like the past few weeks with Cody and the Posse.

But now – now Justin actually felt settled. More settled than he’d felt in a while.

Strange. Justin glanced up, and the sun was shining through the loft windows, just enough to cast a patch of sun on the floor near his feet. He stepped to the side slightly, put his feet right in the middle of the patch. It was warm.

Justin had no idea how long this feeling would last, but god, it felt so good. Relief. Ever since Darren had been bashed... Justin had gotten a brief taste of relief after walking away from Cody and Hobbes, but it had taken a while to make a reappearance.

He breathed deep, and almost laughed at his abrupt realization.

Justin still had nightmares, and pain, and random panicky shit. But, god, he was still alive. He was still somebody, and shit, maybe he should go back to school. He could feel the energy humming under his skin. Yeah, go back to school and teach all those fuckers a lesson.

But Brian was being such a nag, Justin might have to hold off a little just to make him squirm.

Justin tapped his toe, and tried to see if he could pour himself some coffee without moving from the floor’s warm spot. He succeeded, and took a lengthy gulp of the hot bitter liquid, with no fucking sugar. Take that, Brian. The hit of caffeine only added to his triumphant mood.

His nights might still belong to Chris Hobbes, and false memories of blood and violence, and Brian’s hands and voice in the dark. But the days?

The days belonged to him.

Justin smiled, and stepped out of the sun to join Brian in the shower.

*