Golem

A little over a week later - and exactly three years since Justin's death - Brian shut himself into his office at Vangard. He sat at his desk, once again studying the well-worn photograph of Justin and wondering, again, why it couldn't have been him rather than Justin who had died. Just when he was beginning to seriously consider going home for the rest of the day, there was a rap on his office door. Before he could tell whoever was on the other side to fuck off, the door opened.

"Brian?" Julian called.

Embarrassed at being caught with his emotions hanging out, Brian lashed out at the other man. "What the fuck do you want?" The words came out sounding tired and defeated. Not at all the way Brian had intended.

"Cynthia told me it was all right to come in. Was she wrong? Should I go?" Julian asked, even as he closed the door behind him and walked towards Brian's desk.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose tightly and sighed. When he straightened and opened his eyes again, Julian had rounded the desk and was half leaning on it, half sitting on the corner. To Brian's surprise, he looked concerned.

"Sorry," Brian said. "What can I do for you, Julian?"

"You can have lunch with me," Julian replied matter-of-factly.

"No, I can't," Brian replied levelly. He paused a beat. "I'm meeting someone."

"Boyfriend?" Julian asked knowingly. Brian nodded. "This him?" Julian asked, picking up the picture of Justin that lay on Brian's desk.

"No," Brian replied quietly.

"He's beautiful," Julian remarked as he handed the photograph back to Brian.

"Yeah. He was." Brian tucked the picture back into its spot in his desk drawer.

"I'm sorry," Julian said softly.

"So am I," said Brian. He leaned ban hin his chair, looking up at Julian, who was once again looking at him with concern in his eyes. Concern, and sympathy, but not pity. Afterwards, he would never be sure what made him change his mind, but for some reason he found himself picking up the phone to cancel his lunch date with Michael. "I'm having lunch with a client" was his explanation for the sudden change in plans.

Michael didn't take the news well, but Julian flashed him a smile that made him forget whatever guilt he felt at brushing his lover aside.

Brian and Julian ended up at a funky little café that Julian loved. To Brian, it looked like the beat poets' answer to the Liberty Diner. If Brian had been the self-conscious type, he would have felt conspicuous and out-of-place surrounded by all the avant garde, artistic types. Fortunately, he was self-assured and didn't honestly give a damn what anyone thought about him.

Well, almost anyone.

He had cared what Justin thought, though he hadn't wanted to admit it, and he cared to some degree what Michael and the others thought of him. To his surprise, he found that he also cared about Julian's opinion of him - and not just in a professional capacity. The two men chatted about business until their food arrived, and then Julian skillfully turned the conversation to more personal matters. He explained how he had moved to Pittsburgh only recently, in order to be nearer his youngest sister, Nicholette, who was in the middle of a messy divorce. So far, he had managed to see only the areas of the city that immedia sur surrounded the house he shared with his sister. He asked about Liberty Avenue, and Brian was only too happy to separate fact from fiction for him.

When the topic had played itself out, Julian snagged a fry from Brian's plate and munched it contemplatively. "Tell me about the blond," he said.

To his surprise, Brian found himself doing just thae toe told Julian about the night he met Justin, about the boy's relentless efforts to worm his way into Brian's heart, about the Prom and the bashing and not being able to face Justin's funeral.

Julian listened attentively, and when Brian paused, trying to regain control of his emotions, he tossed down some money on the table and stood up. "Come on," he said.

"This isn't the best place for this conversation."

Brian agreed. He forced himself to stand on shaking legs and follow Ju out out of the café. Brian pulled the Jeep keys from his pocket and immediately dropped them. Julian retrieved them, looking at them thoughtfully. He opened the passenger side door of the Jeep and looked at Brian expectantly. After a moment's hesitation, Brian climbed in, ceding control to the other man for the moment. Julian slid into the driver's seat, and a few minutes later, they were on their way. Julian pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open with a practiced gesture.

He punched in a number with one hand, never looking down at the keypad, and hit connect. "Cynthia," he said a moment later. "It's Julian. Can you tell me what Brian's got scheduled for the rest of the day? Yeah, I can hold."

"What are you doing?" Brian asked in the ensuing pause.

Julian just smiled. "Yes, I'm here - Uh-huh - So, nothing life-or-death, then? - Good. He won't be back in today. - Yes, I know. - Moo. oo. Thanks for understanding, Cynthia. You're a good woman. Brian doesn't half deserve you. - You say the sweetest things! - You have a good day, too, love." Julian hit the disconnect button, again without looking away from the road, and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Brian asked a little more forcefully.

"We're going to find someplace private and finish our conversation. You obviously need to talk about Justin. And you weren't going to be getting any work done at your office in the frame of mind you're in, so don't even think about throwing that up to me."

Brian huffed a laugh.

"What?" Julian asked.

"You talk like you write," Brian observed.

"Mmm…or I write like I talk. Which do you think it is?" Julian teased.

Brian just smiled tiredly. He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the seat, surprised by how liberating it felt to let someone else take the reigns for once.

*

"Welcome to Chateau Christopher," Julian said. He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture in the manner of a model showing off some impressive offering.

Brian followed the gesture with his eyes, unable to refrain from laughing aloud when he saw the house. It had obviously once been a grand two-story home, but now the paint was peeling and a couple of the shutters were missing. "I don't think that qualifies as a castle," he commented.

"You just have to use your imagination," Julian rebuffed. "At least that's what Nicky keeps telling me. I tried to talk her into buying something a little more modern, but for some reason she loves the place. Says it has potential. And technically, it's her house so…." He shrugged and climbed out of the Jeep.

The two made their way inside. Brian was pleased to note that the interior of the house was in much better repair than the outside, though the décor was too feminine for his tastes, and the rooms too cluttered and closed in.

"Make yourself at home," Julian invited. "You want a beer?"

Brian accepted the offered drink, and Julian went deeper into the house to fetch it. Brian removed his suit jacket and carefully draped it over the back of a chair. His tie followed after it, and then he paused for a moment. 'Fuck it,' he thought. He rolled up his sleeves, untucked his shirt, and popped the top two buttons loose. His shoes and socks went under the chair that held his jacket, and then he settled on the couch, planting one foot on the seat so that his bent knee formed a barrier of sorts, effectively boxing him into the corner of the sofa.

When Julian returned with the beers, he was glad to see that Brian had taken his offer literally and truly gotten comfortable. He handed him a drink and then sat cross-legged at the other end of the sofa, facing Brian. He sipped at his own beer, watching as Brian took a long pull from the icy bottle and then let his head fall back against the sofa cushions.

"You don't talk about him very often, do you?" he asked without preamble.

"No."

"I know it must be hard for you, but…"

"That isn't it," Brian interrupted.

"Then what is it?" Julian asked gently.

Brian took another drink of his beer. Then he began to explain. He started with the image that his dysfunctional surrogate family had of him, had always had of him, and his mostly irrational fear of losing face with them. He explained about his childhood and why he had felt the need to keep a part of himself hidden even from the people he cared the most for - and who cared about himretureturn.

"So you're saying that they have no idea that you're still grieving?" Julian asked incredulously. He couldn't see how Brian's so-called friends could miss something so obvious. He had seen the hurt in Brian's eyes the first time they had met. But then he always had been more observant than most people. "What about your boyfriend?"

"Michael," Brian said. "What about him?"

"Does he know?"

"What do you think?" Brian asked, unable to muster the sarcasm he had intended.

"I think you need to tell me the rest of the story," Julian answered simply.

So Brian did just that. "Something changed in me when Justin died," he said, looking down at the bottle in his hand so he didn't have to look at Julian. "I'm not sure I can explain it. I knew I was responsible for him dying…"

"No, you weren't," Julian stopped him. "You weren't, Brian. You had every right to be there that night, and Justin had every right to have you there."

Brian didn't argue, but he also didn't agree. He just let the commentarss, ss, and continued on. "It would have been so simple to give him what he wanted. It wouldn't have…" he paused, reaching for the right word. "It wouldn't have been such a big deal to be who he wanted me to be. I think...I think, maybe, if things had been different…if Hobbs hadn't come after him…I think I would have given him what he wanted. But I'll never know, now."

Julian sat quietly, watching Brian struggle to keep his sorrow at bay. Brian took another long pull off his beer before he spoke again.

"And then it was too late. I didn't get a second chance to do things right. They put him in a box, and I…I broke. It was like I couldn't feel anything anymore, except when I was with Gus."

"Gus?"

"My son," Brian explained. "He'd probably be just as well off without me, but he was the only thing that kept me going then. He still is, most days. Most of the time, I feel like…I don't know. Like I'm not sure whether I'm really alive. Like…like I'm just an actor playing a part." He smiled sadly. "I guess I am. I am just playing a part. Pretending to be the perfect boyfriend," he said with a self-deprecating sneer. "Pretending that I'm in love with Michael instead of someone who's been dead for three years." He clenched his jaw and turned his face away, too damned exhausted to fight the tears he felt welling in his eyes.

Julian unfolded himself and edged nearer Brian on the sofa. "You don't have to pretend with me," he said. He caught Brian's chin in one hand and turned his head so he could look him in the eye. "So don't try to hide."

Brian closed his eyes, causing the first tears to spill onto his cheeks. He didn't want to admit that he was so tired - emotionally and physically - that he couldn't hide his feelings now if his life depended on it. He felt a hand touch his cheek, feather light, and then withdraw again.

"Lie down," Julian instructed, scooting back to the other end of the couch and guiding Brian's head to rest in his lap. His fingers massaged Brian's scalp and the back of his neck, easing the tension from his muscles. With his other hand, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "Cynthia," he said a moment later. "It's Julian again - Not so good. That's kind of why I was calling. I was wondering if you could work a little magic for me - Deal with the boyfriend? - You're a peach. Thanks again, Cynthia." As he hung up the phone and set it aside, he made a mental not sen send Cynthia a little gift to thank her for her help.