And Who Do You Think I Am

Credit: Title is taken from the gorgeous Barenaked Ladies song "Am I The Only One?"

Author's Note: This story is continued in "Slipping Below The Water-Line."   Thanks to the fabulous Philflam for betaing.

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The first thing Justin noticed when he entered the apartment was the beeping of his answering machine. He ignored it. Justin knew it was Debbie, everyone else called his cell phone, and he didn't want to listen to one of her lectures right now. The sound haunted him as he grabbed a beer from his fridge. He should probably get a less annoying machine, but in all the time he lived here the damn thing had never made a sound until a few weeks ago when Debbie started calling. Turning the music up loud enough to drown out the beeping, Justin stretched out on the couch. He had a few hours to kill before leaving for some party Brett wanted him to attend. He hoped there would be some decent pot there. Justin didn't trust anyone out here enough to do heavy drugs, but he could use a good buzz.

He must have drifted off because the sudden lack of music woke him up. Startled by the silence, Justin open his eyes and was shocked to see Brian looking down at him. The sheer improbability of it convinced him he was still dreaming. Brian had no reason to be in Justin's apartment. Justin couldn't remember the last time he had talked to Brian let alone seen him. Brian lived in Pittsburgh, and Justin lived in L.A. Once it became clear neither one of those things was likely to change, there had been no point in attempting to carry on a relationship. Even now, Justin couldn't say exactly when or how it happened. There was no screaming match or touching goodbye scene. They'd simply stopped being a part of each other's lives. It was all very adult and civilized and completely unlike them.

While Justin contemplated the startling accuracy of dream Brian, his dream Brians never looked quite right or Brian was represented by another person altogether, Brian had moved closer. "You really should listen to your messages Sunshine. Debbie hates to be ignored."

Justin didn't answer instead he just continued to stare. He could still hear the machine beeping so how did Brian know the message was from Debbie?

Brian tapped his foot as if waiting for an answer. The he waved his hand in front of Justin's face and snapped his fingers a few times. "Isn't a bit early for you to be quite this wasted?"

Justin pushed the hand away. Now he knew this wasn't a dream. He'd never been able to capture Brian's smug sarcasm this well. "I'm not fucking wasted; I just didn't think you were real. How the hell did you get in here?"

"Still have a key," Brian let it dangle from his index finger. "You should be more careful with these things. You never know who might wander in."

"You're the only one who has one, and I didn't expect you to start using it. You never did before."

"Surprise, surprise, today's your lucky day. Now get up; we have things to do." Brian headed toward Justin's bedroom before turning back, "And turn off that fucking machine before I shove it up your ass."

Justin deleted the message without listening to it and followed Brian. He wasn't surprised to find Brian sprawled out across his bed feet hanging off the edge tapping against each other restlessly. "If you're here for sex, forget it."

"Justin, I did not travel across the fucking country for a blow job. That's what Babylon is for. Although if you pack quickly, we might have time." Brian somehow managed to smile and leer at the same time.

"Look, I have to leave in twenty minutes. Don't be here when I get back." Justin kept his voice flat. He didn't want Brian to know how tempted he was to lay down with him. He couldn't get sucked back into Brian only to be left alone again.

"And where would you be headed? To another one of those oh so important events Brett needs you at? Another chance for him to keep his name circulating by trotting out the little gay boy who could? Sorry Sunshine, I'm afraid you'll be unavailable. Now stop wasting time and start packing. Just get what you need, and I'll have the rest shipped."

Justin decided to ignore Brian's taunts about Brett. Defending him would only amuse Brian, and Justin wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "What the fuck are you talking about? I don't need to pack anything."

"It is always easier to travel light. You should still have some shit at the loft, and you can always pick up anything else you need.   Let's go." Brian sprang quickly from the bed.

"Obviously the years of recreational drug use have finally caught up with you, and you're either missing parts of your memory or you're delusional. So to review, we're not together anymore Brian. And I'm not going anywhere with you." Justin briefly considered calling Michael and telling him Brian had apparently snapped and forgotten the last few years. But Michael was too far away to be of any real help, and most likely this was all some twisted game Brian had dreamed up for his own amusement.

Brian just snorted, "Lucky for you I'm years away from dementia. And I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you are going home. Back to glorious Pittsburgh and the illustrious life you left behind.  Tonight."

"The fuck I am. Even if I wanted to go back, and I don't, I have a job. A fucking job, Brian. I can't just take off."

"You have a job, Justin, that you can do from anywhere. They have these wonderful inventions called the internet and video conferencing. That's how I keep clients around the world satisfied," Brian raised his eyebrow suggestively, "without ever leaving my office. And if Brett really keeps you around for your talent, he'll adjust."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Justin asked quietly. That was low even for Brian.

"You know what I think of your art so don't get all defensive. But I know what's going on out here. Did you think I wouldn't find out? You should have remembered that Mikey can't keep a secret to save his life. I know that Brett parades you around as the poster child for brave blond boys everywhere in hopes it will distract people from the crap job he's done on his last two movies."

"It's business, Brian. I'm playing the game just like you taught me. What's it matter why they hire us as long as they do? As long as at the end of the day, I'm more successful than any of them. Isn't that what you always told me?" Justin wanted to turn this around on Brian. If he could piss Brian off enough, he might leave. Then Justin wouldn't have to deal with this.

Brian shook his head, "Trading in on what happened is not part of the fucking game Sunshine."

No, no, no, no, no, the word kept echoing in Justin's head. He wouldn't talk about that, not with Brian. "I'm not going back to Pittsburgh."

"Fine, go to New York, Miami, London, or Paris. Hell go to fucking Moscow for all I care," Brian threw his hands up in the air. "But you are not staying here. I didn't let you run around with a fucking gun because you didn't want to let it define you just to have you turn around and chat about it over cocktail weenies."

"Fuck you Brian. You let me? Is that how you think it worked? I wasn't your God damn puppet. You can't just snap your fingers and expect me to jump back in line." Justin knew he was shouting, and he struggled to calm himself down. He'd worked too hard to get control of his life, to make his own decisions and mistakes. Brian wasn't going to take that away from him with some fucked up revisionist history. "Get out Brian. I don't want you here."

"You want me out of here? Fine. There are a couple of ways we can do this. The easy way is for you to pack your shit and come with me now. You can hate me and bitch the whole way back. I don't give a fuck. Or I can come with you tonight and show you exactly why you need to leave. Would you like that, Justin? I could answer all the questions you can't. You can tell them why, and of course, there's always the heartwarming story of your recovery. But there's so much you don't remember. I've told you before I remember all of it. I can tell them what they really want to know. I can tell them how the bat echoed when it finally hit the ground, but you, you seemed to fall silently. I can tell them what your hair looked like surrounded by all that blood. I can tell them what you screamed in every nightmare you didn't wake up from. Would you like me to do that, Justin? How many scripts is that worth?"

Justin shivered when Brian's fingers brushed the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes. He hated the edge he heard in Brian's voice, he always had. Justin knew when Brian dropped his voice like that it usually meant he was hurt and lashing out. But he couldn't concern himself with Brian's pain. He took a deep breath and willed himself not to be sick. He needed to forget the hint of cruelty he heard when Brian spoke. Justin wondered briefly if that's what Brian's father sounded like, but he pushed that thought from his mind. He needed to stop this. They never talked about the bashing for Brian's sake as much as his own. He couldn't listen to this, not from Brian.

"Stop, Brian, please stop," he hated the way his voice shook. "I don't want to talk about this. It's not like that."

"It's exactly like that. Open your eyes Justin." Brian had maneuvered them so they were facing the mirror above Justin's dresser. He was standing behind Justin and leaned over his shoulder so their faces were next to each other, their eyes level. Justin could see the anger and pain in Brian's eyes. He refused to look at his own. Brian's voice had softened now. This was the voice Justin heard in his dreams. The one that let him know Brian cared; the one he has had to listen to even when he didn't want to. He didn't want to hear it now. "I know you think you are showing them how strong you are, how you survived. But they can't see that."

Justin turned away no longer wanting to look at Brian. Brian's hand on his jaw forced him back, pressing their faces together. He wanted to close his eyes again, but he didn't. When Brian spoke this time, his voice was barely above a whisper. "All they see when they look at you is a victim."

Justin did break away then turning his back on Brian. He wouldn't listen to this anymore. He knew he should say something, do something to make Brian see he was wrong, to make him stop. But he couldn't.

"You have an hour Justin. Then I'm leaving. You either come with me or you don't. But understand, this is the only chance you get. I won't do this again. Not even for you. If I leave here alone, you won't ever see me again. I don't care if you arrive in Pittsburgh fifteen minutes after me, as far as I'll be concerned, you never existed. You will cease to exist the minute I walk out that door. We won't run into each other; our friends won't casually mention what's going on in my life to you. We will have never been. Do you understand? One hour, Justin."

He listened to Brian walk away, could tell by the sound of his footsteps he was in the kitchen. Only then did Justin let himself breathe. He sat down heavily on his bed burying his face in his hands. That was so much worse than anything he could have imagined. Brian was trying to scare him. He knew that. They never said it out loud, but they both knew Brian was Justin's safety net. No matter what happened or how long he'd been gone, Justin could always go to Brian if he needed him. And now Brian was taking that away. What he didn't know was that Justin let go of that a long time ago. Brian couldn't scare him by making him think about what life would be like without even the possibility of Brian. Justin already understood that perfectly.

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