Concede

Thank you to Philflam for the quick and wonderful beta!

Justin tends to fixate on odd things when he's high. Once he decided we should categorize different types of orgasms. Another time he started wondering about the size difference between Mikey and Ben and how they must look fucking. He never remembers these conversations, but I was scarred for life after that one. So I didn't attach any particular significance to a conversation he started a few weeks ago.

He was in the middle of giving me a blowjob when he looked up and asked, "What would you say if I told you I was leaving?"

"I'd tell you to finish what you started before heading to Daphne's."

"No, I mean really leaving."

If he thought I was going to confess that I couldn't live without him, he was higher than I thought. "You know you're always free to go."

He seemed to expect that answer because he nodded. "And if in six months, I wanted to come back?"

"You know where to find me." It's as much as he'll get from me.

"Why," he practically sighed it.

"You're a pain in the ass to get rid of. And as much as a hate to admit it, it's getting harder and harder to find a good fuck." I could tell by his expression that my attempt at humor had failed.

"That's even worse."

"Hmm?"

"You shouldn't take me back. That's worse than letting me leave."

By this point I was tired of the whole conversation. And there was the unfinished blowjob. "Look, if I promise not to take you back, will you suck me off already?"

He shook his head as if to clear it and returned to what he'd been doing. We spent the rest of the night having mind-blowing sex. His leaving was never mentioned again.

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I didn't notice the subtle and not so subtle changes in Justin's behavior after that night. I was still settling in to my new job - Marketing and Public Relations Director of a small private college. Jesus, it sounds lame even to me. But it would have to do, at least until someone in the advertising word realized how much my genius was missed. In the meantime, I was busy writing articles about alumni and thinking up ways to convince Mommy and Daddy to drop both their baby and thirty grand at Western Reserve College. Justin was working full time at the diner and part time at a coffee shop. The point is I was busy; he was busy. If we didn't see as much of each other, no one should have been surprised.

Who knows if I ever would have caught on if Debbie hadn't interfered. In typical fashion, she stormed over to my booth in the diner one morning. "What's wrong with Sunshine? I never see him anymore."

I gave her a look that was a cross between 'what the fuck are you asking me for' and 'are you out of your fucking mind.' "What, are you closing your eyes? He practically lives here." His shift started in twenty minutes so she really could have saved all her concern for him.

"I mean outside of here. He never comes by the house anymore."

I shrugged, "He's got shit to do."

"Not that much shit. I'm telling you there's something bothering that boy. A mother always knows. And you," she practically jammed her finger in my face, "better get off you ass and fix it."

I was saved from answering by Michael's predicable, "Christ Ma, lay off Brian. He's not even your kid."

That earned him a whack to the back of the head. I slipped out during the ensuing tirade. I wanted to dismiss Debbie's concern as the ranting of an overprotective mother, but I couldn't. Now that I thought about it, Justin had been acting strangely lately. It just wasn't anything I could put my finger on.

I considered the possibility that he broke the no violin music agreement, but that didn't seem likely. I was not as clueless as people believe about the whole fiddler incident. I knew something was going on; I simply chose to ignore it. At least until my hand was forced. Justin was not particularly good at hiding his feelings. The unhappiness and uncertainty radiated from him. I could feel him searching for things in me. I was not getting that same feeling now.

I kept a closer eye on Justin after that. What I saw was not reassuring. Unfortunately, I still had no idea what was going on. When we were together, everything was normal. Justin was Justin. There was no hidden agenda or odd behavior. The problem was Justin was rarely around. He was suddenly very busy. Deb was right; he turned down dinner invitations left and right. I generally only saw him when I approached him, and he stopped spending the night. He wasn't pissy; he didn't seem to be avoiding us; he just always had something else to do.

I tried my usual methods of drawing him out-snide remarks, sex. Nothing. The closest I came to a reaction occurred one morning at the diner. I asked him about meeting me at Woody's later, and he told me he was working yet another extra shift at the coffee house.

"Jesus, Justin are you that strapped for cash? Come back to the loft. I'd be happy to support your ass again. You won't have to worry about rent. I'm sure we can come to a mutually satisfying agreement." I lifted my eyebrows suggestively.

I saw what looked like a flash of disappointment or maybe resignation in his eyes before he gave me a typically flip answer, "The day you need to offer lodging in exchange for sex all of Liberty Avenue will weep."

Needless to say, he worked his shift and never mentioned my offer. Things continued this way for another week or two. Then there was Babylon.

It started out like any other night. Justin and I had been dancing for a while before we joined Michael and Emmett at the bar. We always attracted a lot of attention, and that night was no exception. There was a steady stream of guys cruising one or both of us. Justin was busy chatting with the bartender Troy or Tony, something like that. He had taken a shine to Justin during his dancer days, and was trying to convince him to taste some new drink he invented.

While he was still occupied, Michael nudged me, "What about that guy over there? He's been staring at you all night, and he's your type."

I glanced at the guy Michael pointed out. He gave me a slow, sexy smile and gestured to the backroom once he realized he had my attention. And Michael was right, he was my type. Tall, dark hair, well-built, but not bulky. He was probably about my age and projected an air of confidence. I heard Justin laugh and couldn't help but look back at him. His whole face was lit up. He looked open, young. All glowing blond hair and fair skin. I looked back at my potential trick. I was an equal opportunity fucker, but I had a definite preference. And somehow I ended up breaking all my rules for someone who didn't fit it in any way.

Michael again interrupted my thoughts when it became clear I wasn't going after the guy. "What's your problem tonight? You've already turned down at least twenty guys, and that one's perfect."

"No one's perfect here but me. And since when do I need you to pick out my tricks? If you think he's so hot, go after him yourself."

"You know Ben and I don't fuck around. I was just trying to be helpful." Michael looked at me like his intentions should have been obvious.

Emmett chose to add his opinion at this point, "Maybe Brian's looking for something different tonight. What about that guy over there."

At the mention of something special, I had to force myself not to look at Justin. I wish they would back the fuck off. What was I supposed to say? Sorry I'm too busy trying to figure out what's wrong with my boyfriend to visit the backroom. Christ, I just used the word boyfriend. Wouldn't that stop Mikey and Emmett in their tracks. Of course, I'd never say it out loud. Because Brian Kinney doesn't do boyfriends, at least not without a laundry list of disclaimers and qualifiers. And Brian Kinney doesn't pass up visits to the backroom.

Sometimes I realize I'm trapped by this image I've created of myself. But I did create it, and I'm not ready to give it up. So I grabbed a trick of my own choosing, and headed for the backroom. When I returned, Justin was gone.

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I walked into the diner the next morning ready for a fight. I would not put up with any pouting or pissy looks. We were not going to resurrect the 'if Brian really loved me, he wouldn't fuck other men' argument. Justin said over and over again he knew what to expect from me, and he damn well better remember that.

I sprawled out in a booth and waited. Within a few minutes, he approached coffee pot in hand.

"Hey," he greeted me, smiling, and filled my cup.

"What the fuck happened to you last night?"

He seemed surprised by my anger. "I was ready to go so I left. You weren't around, but I told Michael to let you know I'd catch you in the morning."

I couldn't detect any underlying attitude. "Well, you should know better than to leave a message with Mikey. I thought you'd be coming back to the loft."

"My shift started at five so I thought a few hours of sleep would be a good idea. I've got customers. See you later," he shrugged and walked away.

I left for work more confused then ever. I'd also had enough. I was going to find out what was going on with Justin today one way or another. I knew he wasn't working that night so I called and demanded he show up at the loft. I also threatened him with death if he picked up any extra shifts. Enough was enough.

"So what was so important? There's nothing special going on at Woody's or Babylon, is there?" He breezed into the loft right on time.

Deciding to get right to the point, I didn't even bother greeting him. "What the fuck is going on, Justin?"

"With what?"

"Don't play games with me. I know something's wrong. I'm not going to do this avoidance bullshit with you again. If you have a problem, fucking tell me what it is."

He crossed his arms defensively and looked away. "You'll think it's stupid."

"That's a given, but tell me anyway. You agreed to stand up for yourself so let's hear it."

He gave me this look like he was so put upon. I barely managed to keep from rolling my eyes, but he answered. "It all started with Hunter."

Hunter? He never entered into any of my theories. "He didn't tell you we fucked, did he? You better not have been stupid enough to believe him."

"God, no," he looked properly horrified. "Why do you put these images in my head? I was talking to him at the store one day while I was waiting for Michael. He was telling me grossly exaggerated stories about their great escape. I mentioned how out of character I thought it was for Michael to just take off like that. I mean normally Michael would have taken a poll, asked for Debbie's permission in blood, and then made you decide for him anyway."

I held up my hand to interrupt him, "I'm all too familiar with Mikey's indecisiveness. Could you get to the point."

"He told me he asked Michael why one night. Michael told him he didn't have a choice because he and Ben would fight for him no matter what. He looked kind of embarrassed and maybe surprised he told me, but all I could think was that no one had ever felt that way about me." He averted his eyes as if he didn't want to see my reaction.

"Are you fucking nuts? Have you been inhaling too many paint fumes? You must be the most universally adored person I know." I swear I have no clue where he gets these ideas. Sometimes I think he should never be allowed out of my sight.

He looked right at me then, and I knew he really meant whatever he was going to say. "It's not about love, Brian. I know people love me - Mom, Deb, even you. And it's not some poor Justin pity party either. It's just maybe there are degrees of love. I mean Michael and Ben are willing to risk everything for Hunter. But it seems like even when people love me, they give up on me." He bit his lip and I could tell he was getting frustrated.

"I don't understand." And I didn't.

"Look at my mom. I know I should be grateful she didn't disown me when she found out I was gay. And she's been good about it for the most part. But anytime she thought I was too much to handle, she gave me away. She let me live with you when I was in high school, for God's sake, rather than upset my father. And let's talk about him. One minute he's a normal Dad, and the next I don't even exist. I saw him the other day. I passed him on the street; he was with some guys from work. One of them pointed toward me. Then my father looked right at me and shook his head. I could just hear him, 'No, that's not Justin. That fag over there couldn't be my son.' It's been so easy for him to erase me from his life."

"So your parents let you down, that's part of life." I knew I sounded insensitive, but none of this was new. I didn't see why it was suddenly a problem.

"It's not just them. Ethan swore he loved me; I was his muse. But he had no problem denying who I was when it benefited him. He forgot me the instant some other drooling admirer appeared. And even you, Brian. I know how lucky I am to have gotten a second chance with you. I'm sure you had some rule against that. I should understand how much you want me in your life since you said you'd always take me back. But what does it mean that you will never stop me from leaving? You took me in without question when I needed you, but you also walked away without question when my mother asked you to. What am I supposed to make of that?"

He stood before me telling me he didn't believe anyone in his life would fight for him, and I had no answer. I could tell him that I fought for him everyday that I didn't run screaming from this relationship I'd fallen into. But Jesus he deserved better than that, and I couldn't bring myself to say something so pathetic. Instead, I shifted the focus back to him, "So this disappearing act of yours is some way to test us? To see if we'll come chasing after you? That's fucking ridiculous."

I watched his face close up, "That's not what I'm doing. This isn't even about you. Not everything I do is some secret attempt to get you to declare your undying love for me. This is about me, and becoming someone who's worth fighting for. After the bashing, I stopped fighting for me so how can I expect anyone else to? People hurt me and let me down, and I just smile and try to make it easier for them. It's like you told me. I need to start standing up for myself and having some balls. I'm working on it."

"Well good for you," I tried not to sound too sarcastic, but I never know how to respond to emotional moments. "But that still doesn't explain why you've been avoiding everyone."

"It's just that it's hard you know, trying to be stronger. Everyone already has a picture of me. I'm either Justin the disowned, or Justin the kid with the gimp hand who was bashed, or Brian Kinney's twink, or the fuck he can't get rid of. They don't see me as I am now. I can't expect them to respect me if I can't replace that image. I don't know if I can do this"

His voice trailed off, but I knew what he wanted to say. He didn't know if he could do this here. Then it made sense. I knew exactly what he was doing; he was slowly distancing himself from his life. Whether it was to prepare himself for leaving, or an attempt to fade away gradually and hope no one noticed I'm not sure. But he was planning to leave, and he wasn't expecting anyone to stop him.

We stood there with this distance between us, and suddenly I was reminded of a day a few years ago. When I told him I was going to New York, that I was leaving and never looking back. I remember feeling if I didn't get away from Pittsburgh, from him I would suffocate. Of course, I didn't go, and here we are. But I could understand him feeling like he couldn't grow unless he got away from here.

So I reached for him and held him like I had that day. "Do what you have to," I whispered in his ear. I felt his shoulders slump, and I knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear. But I couldn't ask him to stay only to have him leave anyway. I guess he was right; there were some ways I'd never fight for him.

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Once everything was out in the open, we ignored it. Justin still saw everyone on whatever reduced schedule he had decided on. If there was an occasional hint of desperation in his touch or sadness in his eyes, I never mentioned it. That doesn't mean I didn't think about it. Some days it was all I thought about. One thing I could never stand was seeing Justin give up. Usually I could bully him out of it, but that didn't seem appropriate here. The difference was instead of giving up on himself, he was giving up on us. He wanted to make himself a better, stronger person, and if we couldn't see that, fuck us. A part of me couldn't help but be proud of him, but the rest of me was silently screaming for him not to go.

I looked out my window and watched a group of students heading to their next class. I tried to picture Justin with them, but couldn't. That's were he belonged, but he already seemed so beyond that. I remember college as being a time when you're on your own, but not completely responsible for your life. I did what I had to do to be a success, but the rest was about parties and fucking and feeling free. It's about suddenly seeing a world outside your neighborhood and figuring out who you are and what you think.

I see them laughing, and I can't imagine that any of them know what it's like to have someone try to kill you I doubt they have lovers in their thirties whose emotional dysfunctions were formed before they were born. I wonder if that's part of what drew Justin to Ethan. He was still flexible; he didn't force Justin to accept him as is because it was too late for him to change. Justin didn't have to fight a million demons he'd never met. He could pretend to be a carefree college student with his first boyfriend. I'd seen couples like them before, all excited about being out and in love.

But that's not who Justin is. He'd already experienced emotions much more intense than the blush of first love. He already knew better than to believe the fairy tale. He didn't come out in the safety of college where it's cool to be gay and diversity is embraced because everyone wants to prove how liberal they are and how different they are from their parents. He came out in high school where difference is met with hate, and standing out can lead to violence. But just like he said he smiles and keeps going and lets us forget how that changed him. He told Michael that Rage helped him because no one wanted to talk about what happened. I know he needs to, but I still don't because I can't. And he lets me pretend he doesn't still have nightmares, that he doesn't keep migraine pills in his backpack, that his hand doesn't still shake. Because it's easier for me.

We all treat Justin like a child. We think he's flighty and can't know what he wants. We see ourselves at his age or try to measure him against the lives we have now. But when I look at these students, at who he should be, I know he's so much more than that. Their lives are all about theories and some distant future. Justin's world is all action and the present. They discuss politics in study groups and sign petitions and go to protests. Justin gave all that up to stop Stockwell. He probably is the most mature person I know, and he thinks he's not worth fighting for.

Justin is the only person I've ever felt things for. And this whole thing made me angry for him and with him. Of course, I wasn't ready to deal with my part in all of it. Instead, I focused my anger on someone else. Craig. How many times was he going to hurt Justin? It had been enough; yet he still found new ways to do it. I always told Justin to toughen up, but I harbor an irrational desire to see Craig hurt. I couldn't accomplish that so I settled for humiliation. I would have loved to have seen his face when he received his first copy of Pittsburgh Out and realized it had gone through the mailroom. I hope every employee in the God damn place found out about it. I would never tell Justin about it, but it was something I could do for him.

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Eventually I tired of settling for my allotted time with Justin and showed up at his apartment. "So where is our sweet Sunshine this evening?"

I'm used to Daphne getting all starry eyed and fawning all over me so her anger caught me of guard. "You know damn well where he is, and it's all your fault!"

For a second I swore it was Debbie standing in front of me, "Let's try this again. Hello, Daphne. Is Justin home?" I gave her my most charming smile. She was not amused.

"Justin won't be back from Boston until Thursday. Would you like me to take a message?" She was all sweet sarcasm.

"What the fuck is he doing in Boston," I pushed her past her looking around as if Justin would magically appear.

"He didn't tell you? Probably figured you wouldn't notice. He's been gone two days already. He's interviewing here," she threw a brochure for some art school at me.

"Moving on to bigger and better things is he?" I used the paper to cover my shock.

Daphne shook her head, angry again, "You are unfuckingbelievable! Justin is going to move away and not only won't you stop him, you pretend like you don't care."

"He's a big boy now. I let him make his own decisions."

"Why did I ever stand up for you? When Justin was with Ethan I used to tell him how much better you were. I encouraged him to go back to you. What a fucking mistake."

Curiosity got the better of me. I arched my eyebrow at her; silently encouraging her to continue.

"I told him you weren't a liar like Ethan. But you are, and you're ten times worse than he ever was," she stopped and glared at me.

"Do tell," I sounded appropriately bored. In some ways I found her anger amusing. She was even worse than Mikey.

"Ethan lied about things he did, but you lie about how you feel. You'd rather let him leave than admit that you want him to stay. All because the great Brian Kinney doesn't do feelings. How fair is that to him? But I know better. I saw you when he was hurt," her voice faltered a bit then, but she kept going. "I saw you at the hospital, and I was there when you tried to make him remember. And I see you now. I see you when you're here. I see the way you look at him when he's not paying attention. But you lie to him day after day when you let him think your feelings aren't as strong as his. You don't have to tell him you love him because then the fucking sky would fall in or something. But couldn't you at least let him know it matters to you where he is?"

"Don't bother telling Justin I stopped by. I'm sure I'll catch him once he's back," I didn't even smile at her exasperated growl or the door slammed behind me.

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The days before Justin's return were spent in a haze of work, sex, drugs, and alcohol. The boys assumed I was enjoying my temporary freedom, and I didn't bother to tell them it might soon be permanent. Justin had told Debbie he would be out of town for a week, but apparently only Daphne knew why. I convinced myself that this could be my life again, but there was a thread of tension I couldn't quite ignore. I didn't think anyone else would notice, but I was wrong.

I joined Michael on the dance floor after another trip to the backroom. He shook his head and shouted at me, "When's Justin coming back?"

"Tomorrow, I think," I shrugged and kept dancing.

"Thank God, you're such a pain in the ass when he's not around."

I stared Michael down, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It's like you have to go out of your way to prove you don't miss him."

"I don't."

Michael laughed, he actually laughed at me, "I think he's the only other person who'd believe that. It wouldn't kill you to tell him you know."

I had stopped dancing by this point, but started again. "You're fucking high." He just kept laughing.

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I couldn't stop thinking about what Mikey said while I sat in the diner not waiting for Justin's shift to start. I never thought Michael would say I missed Justin. I depended on him to keep Justin's place in my life in perspective. I don't agree with that perspective, but it was my safety net. If Michael knew how I felt about Justin, I was fucked. Apparently everyone knew how I felt about Justin, but Justin. That didn't seem very fair to him, but nothing about our relationship is designed to be fair to him.

When Justin told me he knew what to expect from me, he agreed to take me as I am. I wasn't prepared for that to change. But with Justin I never was; it just kept happening. Before I could feed myself anymore bullshit, Justin walked in.

He waved as he passed me, but I grabbed him and pulled him down next to me.

"Brian, I'm going to be late. Let me go," he laughed and gave me a quick kiss.

"You're here; you can't be late." I brushed the hair from his face and resisted the urge to hold him to me. He smiled, and as always my breath caught. I opened my mouth I swear to ask him how his trip was, but instead I said, "Arthur Braxton of Braxton, Braxton, and Mansfield, Boston's premier advertising agency, always has a job waiting for me."

I watched a million emotions pass over Justin's face before he settled on what I can only call joy. "Their program was for shit. I've been thinking of reapplying to PIFA." He said it casually, but kissed me long and hard. "I'll see you tonight."

I didn't have time to do more than nod before he left to answer Debbie's shouts of, "Get your ass over here Sunshine. These tables won't wait on themselves."

I still had too much pride to let my relief show, but I felt the tension leave my body. We would be all right. Justin knew I let him do what he needed to, but I'd be there with him one way or another. But I couldn't just say that. What I did say shouldn't have been enough. Luckily, Justin makes things easy on me, but someday it won't be enough. Maybe by then I'll have more to give.

**Title and idea taken form the Barenaked Ladies song For You.

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