BRINGING IT ALL BACK HOME

"A Queer As Folk USA FanFic"

by Gaedhal

This is Part 3 of Chapter 101 in the "Queer Theories" series.

Go back to "Bringing It All Back Home -- Part 2", the previous section.

The narrator is Justin Taylor, and features Cynthia, Wade Anderson, Mrs. Anderson, Brian Kinney.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Justin finds Wade waiting for him at the loft. Pittsburgh, September 2002.
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not profit. Watch Queer As Folk on Showtime, buy the DVDs, videos, and CDs. Read the stories and enjoy.

Cynthia and I have a great lunch. A long lunch. My pasta really is excellent and the cannoli for dessert is one of the best I've ever eaten -- after the ones Vic makes, of course. When we finish, Cynthia suggests that we do it regularly. "This time was my treat, Justin. Next time -- it's all yours!"

"That's a date!" I say. Wait until I tell my mom that I have a date with a girl. A woman!

I pull the Jeep up in front of the loft -- and there's Wade, sitting on the front step, waiting for me. "Hey, Justin!"

"Hey, Wade," I say, getting out of the Jeep. "Have you been sitting here very long?"

He hesitates. "A little while. I thought you'd be back earlier than this."

"I was out with Cynthia." I open the door and head for the elevator. Wade trails right along behind me.

"Cynthia?" he says, puzzled. "Who's that?"

"The blonde woman from the promo party? I met her downtown and she took me to lunch."

"Oh," says Wade, immediately heading for the refrigerator, as usual, and poking around inside. But with my classes and the gallery show opening, I've been too busy to do any shopping, so it's pretty empty. I can tell he's disappointed, but really! Wade eats like a fucking truck driver and it isn't MY responsibility to keep him filled with food! Let Ted take him out once in a while. Or let him go home and eat dinner there!

"Do you mind if I get changed, Wade? I had to dress up for lunch."

"Go ahead, Justin. I was thinking that you looked really nice today. I mean, you always look nice, but today especially!"

"Thanks, Wade. These are Brian's clothes, actually, but they do look okay on me," I say, walking up to the platform. Wade follows and flops down on the bed, kicking off his shoes. "This jacket is an Armani."

"It is? That's good, right?" Maybe Wade wouldn't work out so well at Torso after all, if he doesn't even know Armani!

"Yes, he's a big Italian designer. Brian has tons of his stuff. Brian has the perfect body for those Italian suits -- long and lean." And I picture that body. Long and lean. I keep picturing it, too. In the suit -- and out of it.

"But they look great on you, too, Justin. Even though you're not...." Wade stops. He's backed himself into a corner here. "So tall."

I laugh. "I'm not a perfect Armani model like Brian is. I know that. I'm too short. But the jacket looks nice on me, anyway."

"It does!" Wade agrees. He'll agree with anything I say. It's kind of annoying. But then I think of another very annoying twink who must have severely tested the patience of someone even more short tempered than I am sometimes lately! And yet -- Brian kept me around. It's amazing when I really consider it. How DID it happen? How DID Brian and I even happen in the first place, let alone last? Why didn't he kill me a million times over, like I want to kill poor Wade when he gets on my nerves? I guess that... I'm not in love with Wade. And Brian must have been with me. Right from the beginning. At least a little bit. It's the only explanation that makes any sense. Or that I WANT to make any sense!

While I'm thinking of this, I'm getting undressed, putting away the jacket and pants and setting the silk shirt aside for the dry cleaner. And, without even thinking, I strip off my dark blue briefs and toss them into the laundry hamper.

Wade is lying on the bed, watching me the whole time. He's such a fixture in the loft lately that I don't even think about him, he's just THERE. But when I turn away from the closet, I see that Wade has taken off his clothes and is patiently stroking his dick. I'm surprised at how well-endowed he is for a kid. I mean, not like Brian, of course! But Ted must be pleased. More than pleased! And before I can say anything to him, Wade gets up and puts his arms around me and starts kissing me and feeling his way all over my body. Now, THIS is a problem. Understatement of the year!

The biggest difficulty is that I've been sitting all afternoon with Cynthia, talking about Brian. And talking about Brian means thinking about Brian. And thinking about Brian means that I am as horny as anything. It doesn't help that I've been wearing Brian's clothes all day and I'm standing in his loft, by his bed, practically wrapped in his scent and his feel and his everything! Fuck! I'm so horny most of the time I'm ready to scream!

So when Wade takes hold of my dick and rubs it so slowly and excruciatingly, my body is right there, ready to go for it. When he presses against me and starts kissing me, down my neck, down my chest, around my nipples, my own cock stands right up, calling for attention! It's my mind and heart and soul that has to put on the fucking brakes! But I can't think. I can't stop. Wade pulls me down on the bed, directly on top of him, and wraps his legs around me, moaning, "Fuck me, Justin! Fuck me NOW!"

"Stop it, Wade! Come on, I mean it!" I'm rolling around, trying to throw him off, but Wade is fucking strong! He's got one hand on my cock and the other around my neck and he's... he's pressing against me so forcefully. Not that it's any excuse! Not at all.

"Justin, I know you want to! I know it! I WANT you to!" Yes, my cock definitely wants to! It's the rest of me that is trying to run the other way! Unfortunately, it's my cock that Wade has a strong hold on! Then he takes his hand away and rubs his cock against mine, making friction together. Making the sweat break out all over me. The loft suddenly seems hot and steamy.

"Wade," I whisper. My throat is so dry. "I don't want to fuck you. I don't love you! TED loves you -- so why don't you go over to his place?"

"Ted's busy," Wade says, breathlessly, his face next to mine. "He's always busy with his dumb website! And all those creepy guys over there. They are always saying icky things to me when Ted is in the other room! And I don't want to fuck on that crummy bed in the studio anyway. It's got 'stuff' all over it!"

Fuck! I knew Ted wasn't the best boyfriend in the world, but really! You'd think he'd consider what's been going on in those beds and spare poor Wade's sensibilities a little! Now, I'm beginning to feel even more sorry for Wade. Or I would if his dick wasn't trapped up against mine at the moment. And if he didn't have his mouth on my nipple ring! It feels... really good, too! Jeez!

"I know the studio is gross and Ted needs to make more time for you, but I'm not the answer to your problems, Wade! You have to tell Ted how you feel and make him treat you right -- or else tell him that you'll dump him!" Jeez, listen to ME, telling some twink that he ought to give his boyfriend an ultimatum! After I was willing take to any little morsel Brian fed me for so fucking long and never asked for anything back because I was afraid to lose him! And now I'm giving Wade advice on how to handle HIS boyfriend! When we're both naked and practically coming all over each other! Brian would have a good laugh over that one. Or maybe he wouldn't.

Wade stops moving against me and thinks for a moment. "But if I dump Ted -- then what will I do?" he whines.

I take advantage of Wade's pause to shake him off a little. I sit up and Wade is on his knees in front of me on the bed, looking at me seriously. "Find a new boyfriend, Wade!" I say. "There are lots of guys around. There were guys at Babylon last night asking you to dance. Play the field. You aren't exactly a troll, you know." Shit! Listen to me! I think I've heard this conversation before -- from the other side!

But Wade grips my cock firmly with one hand and his own hand is now moving up and down on his own dick. I guess giving a hand-job is one thing he's learned to do pretty well, but whether from Ted, the website, or all on his own, I don't know. But he's good. He's very good. And very ambidextrous. But I'm not keen to quiz him about his technique right now, because... "Wade, I think we better stop now. Before something happens...."

"I... I think it's too late... Justin!" And Wade is right. It IS too late. I haven't even touched HIS dick -- but I don't need to. Seconds after he starts shooting, I come, too, until we're both erupting all over each other and the clean duvet -- which just came back from the dry cleaner on Monday. Of course.

Wade sinks down onto the pillows and sighs. He's practically purring. "Man! Justin! That was great! Why don't I blow you and then you can do me? Okay?" He reaches out his hand to pull me down next to him.

And me -- I'm about ready to explode -- and not orgasmically! "Get the fuck OUT of here! NOW!" I jump off the bed and stomp into the bathroom, grabbing two towels. I walk back out and throw one at Wade. "Here! Then get dressed and get out!" I wipe myself off. I feel like kicking Wade AND myself! But mainly myself!

He looks at me, truly puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"Are you fucking INSANE?" Now I'm yelling.

And Wade is staring at me. "Wasn't it good for you, Justin? Didn't it feel GREAT? You sure shot off a ton. Like you've been saving it up!"

I'm so pissed at both of us that I can't think anymore. "Excuse me, but didn't I say to get the fuck out of here? I meant YESTERDAY!"

And Wade slowly gets off the bed and starts gathering up his clothes. "Can... I use the bathroom, Justin?"

"Be my fucking guest!"

And Wade practically runs into the bathroom and slams the door like some teenage girl in a sitcom.

I drop back down on the bed and put my head in my hands. I can't believe what I just let happen! I managed to fend off fucking Rowan AND Hughie all summer, not to mention that skinhead in the club that one night when Brian rescued me like some Super Hero. And all those guys who hit on me after Brian left town last December -- and some of them were pretty aggressive. After all THAT, after resisting every fucking advance -- with one horrible exception last June in L.A. -- I get sucker punched by, of all people, Wade! The clueless twink!

What am I going to tell Brian? He'll probably tell me that if I want Wade I can fuck off and keep him! I feel like the world's biggest idiot! I know that Brian has never, ever asked me to be faithful to him, but I never wanted to be with anyone else. Haven't wanted to be. And now this. Especially when I think about how I basically let it happen. And even enjoyed it. That's the worst thing of all.

I finish wiping myself off with the towel. Then I get a pair of clean briefs and put them on, then get out my cargo pants and a tee shirt. Shit. I smell like come now -- and I feel Wade all over me, like a rash! I need a shower -- fast! I go into the bathroom and Wade is sitting on the closed toilet seat, crying. "I'm sorry," he whimpers.

Now I feel like a real shit. "Wade, get cleaned up and get dressed. I'll take you home. It's almost dinner time anyway -- I'm sure your mother will be wondering what happened to you."

"She doesn't give a shit! Nobody gives a shit! Not Ted -- and not you!" And he starts crying again! Why is this happening to ME?

"Wade, go out and get something to drink and calm down. I'm going to take a shower. If you want one, too, you can have one after I'm finished, okay?" He nods. "All right. Give me five minutes."

Wade stands up and trudges out, tragically. He's still naked and his pale, gawky body and pale, gawky dick look very dejected. I didn't mean to be such a bitch, but then Wade didn't have any right to assume that I wanted to participate in his little jack-off session! I'm sure that he hoped that once things got going, I'd just sail along with things. But no fucking way! Especially NOT in Brian's bed!

I take a shower and I feel a little better afterwards. Wade goes in after me. He's still crying. Wade has more water in him than most drama princesses, it would seem. Was I this bad? I wonder. I guess, maybe I was. And again I consider why Brian put up with me and my tantrums and traumas. Was it just because I was a convenient fuck -- or was it really more? I hoped it was more at the time. I think about that as I get dressed.

Wade finally comes out. His eyes are all red and he won't look me in the face. He gathers up his stuff, while I turn on a few lights. It's starting to get darker earlier now. Fall is really here, I guess. I close the loft door behind us and set the alarm. Then we walk down the stairs. I need the walk and Wade just follows me, as usual. We don't say anything until we're in the Jeep. I pull away from the curb and head towards Squirrel Hill -- Wade lives near there. I drive along and Wade is still sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

At a stoplight, I reach into the backseat and pull out the box of extra large tissues Brian always keeps in the Jeep -- among other things. He's always prepared. "Here. If I drop you off at your house like that, your mother will cross-examine you until you spill everything. You don't want THAT, do you, Wade?"

"N... No. I guess not."

"Then wipe off your face."

He sniffs a few more times and blows his nose loudly. "Justin? Does this mean I can't come over to your place anymore?"

I sigh. "It might be a good idea if you didn't come over for a while. Considering what just happened."

And Wade stars sniffling again. Louder. "I was afraid of that! You're kicking me OUT -- for good! I'm sorry! It wasn't like it was really sex or anything!"

"Then what was it, Wade?" Yeah, what WAS it? Was it 'sex' when I gave Chris Hobbs that hand-job? What did I tell Daphne? "That isn't love, it's just fucking!" Is that how I really saw it? And is that how Chris saw it, too? Is that why he bashed me? And what I did with Wade -- what WAS that? Did it 'count'? In his mind -- or in mine? And what would Brian say? I can only imagine!

"I'm sorry, Justin. I'm just so frustrated. Ted says he loves me, but he's so weird about things! Like he's purposely trying to push me away! Even when I KNOW he really loves me! Why would he do that?"

"Wade, talk to Ted about some of the things you've been feeling. He's a nice guy -- he'll understand. Just tell him what's bugging you. Be honest with him. But thinking that you can come over to my place and use me as your sort-of-pretend boyfriend -- that's just wrong! Don't you see that?"

"I guess. Unless you could be my real, actual boyfriend. I mean, until Br... Brian gets back." Wade is afraid even to say Brian's name!

"No, Wade. That would be unfair to you. And to Brian. I'm NOT your boyfriend and I'm not about to be your fuck-buddy, either."

"Why not? Don't you do it with Emmett? He's sleeps at your place all the time!"

"No, I do NOT do it with Emmett! That would be like... like doing it with my sister! And when Michael was living at the loft I never did it with HIM, either! That would have been like doing it with my brother! And that's just gross!" I shudder thinking about having sex with any of the guys. It's too awful.

"But I'm not your sister OR your brother, Justin. So, maybe...."

"NO! Get it out of your mind now, Wade! Please! This was just a mistake, okay? It isn't that you aren't nice or even that you aren't good in bed. It's that I love Brian! And I only want to do it with HIM! And now I feel like I've betrayed him."

"I... didn't think of that, Justin. And you never want me to come over -- ever again?" Sniff, sniff!

"For a little while, anyway, Wade. It might be better that way. You can call me and talk to me on the phone -- but DO NOT just come over. And don't let Ted drop you off, either. Okay?"

Wade doesn't say anything.

"Is that all right? Say 'yes,' Wade."

"All right." His voice is small and sad. And once again I feel like a shit.

I pull the Jeep into the Anderson driveway. It's a nice house in a neighborhood not that unlike the one I grew up in -- very middle class and safe and All American. The kind of place where you can easily feel isolated and grow up believing you are the only queer in the entire world. Which is exactly how I felt. And how Wade feels now, I imagine.

"You can call me tomorrow, Wade, okay?" I say. "If I'm not too busy, you can come over this weekend. Emmett is coming on Saturday and we're making dinner. We'll invite Ted, too, and you can come with him, all right?"

"Maybe," says Wade, petulantly. Now that he's on his own turf, he's sounding sullen. He sits in the Jeep and makes no move to get out.

"Goodbye, Wade." He sits. I get out and open the door on his side.

Wade starts to climb out of the Jeep and then looks over my shoulder. "Oh oh!" he says.

I turn around. Wade's mother has come out of the front door, and is halfway down the driveway and there's no way I can get out of there without looking like I'm escaping. Which is what I want to do!

"Hello, you must be Justin." Mrs. Anderson smiles and shakes my hand. Wade must have mentioned me.

"Would you boys like to come inside? Dinner is almost ready. I'm sure Wade would like you to stay and eat with us, Justin. Wouldn't you Wade?"

"Sure!" he says brightly.

No way, I think. "I ate a really late lunch downtown, Mrs. Anderson, but thanks for asking me."

"Wade, why don't you go inside and wash your hands?" she says. And he reluctantly goes, looking back at us as he walks up the drive.

"Is this your Jeep, Justin? And I understand you have your own place in the city?"

"Um, yes, I do. Corner of Tremont and Fuller." Jeez, I guess he's mentioned me a lot.

She smiles again. "How old are you, Justin?"

Why the third degree here? What is she getting at? "I'm nineteen," I say. "I'm a sophomore at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art."

"Yes, Wade's told us," she replies, nodding. "He talks about you all the time. He wants to get into the Institute next year."

"He might," I say. And I mean it. Wade's shown me some of his drawings and they're good. But he needs to work on his perspective. "He'll need to get a portfolio together of his best stuff. If he works this year on it, he might have a shot at getting in." And I blush when I say 'shot' -- I'm feeling so guilty talking to Wade's mother after what we just did.

But Mrs. Anderson doesn't seem to notice. She just keeps looking at me and smiling. Nodding again. She looks at the Jeep, too. She probably thinks I'm rich. Or that my family is really rich. I know damn well that Wade didn't tell his mother about Brian! That would give the whole game away right there!

"I can help him with it. His portfolio, I mean." Damn! Did I just volunteer to do that?

"That would be lovely, dear. I'm sure Wade would appreciate it." Mrs. Anderson leans closer to me and looks right into my face. "I want you to know that I appreciate your being Wade's... friend. He's had some difficulty at school about... things. And some disagreements with his father. Mr. Anderson is in law and he'd like Wade to study law, too. But I don't think Wade is interested."

"I couldn't say, I never heard him mention law. Just art. And other things," I mumble. This woman is making me nervous.

She reaches over and squeezes my arm. "I'm glad that you're there for Wade. At his age, he needs a... friend. And I'm glad it's you, Justin. I know you'll be a good friend to him. And you won't let him get into any... trouble, right?"

And then it hits me. Why have I been so dense? Wade's mother totally knows that he's gay. And not only that, she thinks that I'M his boyfriend! And she doesn't mind. She's letting me know that she thinks it's okay. One thing I've learned with my own mother and living and working with Debbie is that Mom always knows before you think she does. It's like Queer Rule Number One! And Wade is still clueless! Holy shit!

"No, no trouble, Mrs. Anderson." Man! If she only knew about Ted! And his website! My God!

"I hope to see you here more, Justin. Perhaps you could come to dinner next week? And meet Wade's father and his sisters? That would be so nice. It might help for Mr. Anderson to meet Wade's friend. If you know what I mean?"

"Um, yes, I know what you mean, Mrs. Anderson. And I'll check my schedule. Tell Wade to call me. Bye, now!" That's all I need -- to meet Dad and the rest of the family! I get into the Jeep as fast as I can and take off, waving. Wade's mother waves back, cheerily.

I had been planning to go to the diner and take up Deb's offer of that turkey meatloaf for dinner. But now I just want to get back to the loft and fend off a total freak out!

And pray that Brian calls me -- early! He called very late last night and I mainly told him the basics about the opening and then signed off, I was so exhausted. But now I NEED to speak to him about so many things. Too many things!

Of course, I pace around the loft most of the evening, trying to blow off steam. I call Emmett to come over, but I get his answering machine. I even try calling Daphne, but her roommate tells me that she's at the library, studying. Which is what I should be doing. So I study for a while, then watch television, then clean up the loft a little, then get in bed. It isn't even eleven. Who knows when the fuck Brian will call?

So, I take a deep breath and call him. I've vowed never to call him unless it's an emergency. I don't want Brian thinking that I can't handle things. Or that I'm checking up on him. I don't want to turn into Ron. But I think I HAVE to talk to him. Now.

"WHAT?!" That's Brian's idea of a greeting!

"Hey," I say, tentatively.

"Hey." His voice softens immediately and I relax a little. "What's up? What time is it there?"

"Around 11:00. Sorry I almost dozed off during our phone call last night, but I was so tired."

"I'm sorry. I know it was late, but we were at one of those charity deals. For landmines. Against landmines, actually. You know what I mean. Jimmy and Tess went and Ron wasn't about to miss the fucking thing because McCartney played a song with Brian Wilson. Ron and Jimmy were in 1960s Music Heaven!"

"You didn't tell me that last night."

"I wanted to hear how YOUR opening went. That was more important, Justin."

"Yeah, I guess it was kind of important," I reply, smiling. Brian thinks it was important. He really does! I mean, compared to some big Hollywood event! "A bunch of people from PIFA are coming this weekend. And a friend of my mom's, Mrs. Worthing -- remember her from the country club? -- she's bringing her art club. All rich old ladies. Debbie says they'll all buy something and I'll make a ton of money!"

"Why not? That's what artists do. You have plenty of stuff those women would like. What about that series of drawings of my dick? I'm sure they'd love to buy those!"

"Sure! And speaking of your dick, Brian, I had lunch with Cynthia today."

There's a short silence. "I hope the dick remark and Cynthia in the same sentence is meant to be a joke? I hope!"

"Not exactly. I saw that watercolor of the blue lights hanging in her office. YOUR old office, Brian. I had to laugh! I'm sure she has no idea that it's a picture of US, fucking!"

"Oh, is THAT what it is? Us, fucking? The artist clarifies things, finally!"

"You know it is! You goof!" But he just snickers. "Where are you, Brian?"

"In the poolhouse. I'm reading some boat magazines. I'm trying to cram in enough information so I sound like a true boat owner."

"Does Ron know you bought the boat?"

"I told him. But I don't think he's processed it yet. He just kind of shrugged. We... didn't go into the subject in detail. I guess I'll have to take him down there eventually. But I want to keep it a place for myself for as long as I can. This boat is bigger than the 'Colleen.' And it's got a little galley and a table and seats, like a booth in the diner. And a bigger back deck. And a fly bridge on top. And a real shower! You'll like this boat, Justin. I'm having the guy paint it. White and blue."

"Really? I'll like it?" I say, glad that it matters to him. "If I ever get a chance to see it, Brian."

"You will. What are we both doing all this for, anyway, if it's not about when we can do all those things together? When is your Thanksgiving break? And Christmas? You haven't sent me that information yet."

"I... wanted to make certain about... everything first. About if you... I mean, if you still wanted to...." Now that I'm ready to tell him -- I can't make myself.

"Wanted to? Of course I still want to! Justin, what's going on there?" Now Brian is quiet. "Something's happened. I know by your voice. Just tell me."

"I... don't know what to say... how to tell you this...." Now I really feel like shit.

"What?" he says. Brian has this weird edge to his voice. "Just tell me and get it over with."

"I... Brian, I'm so stupid! And I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to happen! But it did!"

"Justin?" His voice is so odd. Breathy and hard at the same time. "Just tell me. I'll understand if you want to stop all this. This long-distance relationship shit. I know it's hard on you. I shouldn't have expected you to spend your whole fucking life sitting around waiting for me, after all." Now he just sounds tired. "I was only fooling myself."

"No! That's not it! I... I made a mistake, Brian! I want YOU to tell ME that it's okay! Please! I don't want to give up! Say that YOU don't want to! Please?"

"Tell me what happened, then. Just tell me the whole thing."

And I tell him. Every stupid, ridiculous detail. Wade grabbing me. Rubbing up against. Jerking me off. And me -- going along with it. Not stopping it. Messing up the fucking clean duvet! Wade bawling like a girl. Everything! Including Wade's mother practically inviting me into the family!

And Brian is silent for about a long time. I want to scream for him to say something! Anything! I'm scared of what he's thinking. Scared shitless that he'll hate me. But then he explodes with laughter! He's laughing so hard he's choking!

"Well!" I huff. "I'm glad you think it's so fucking funny! I was really upset, Brian!" I say, my face getting red. "I've been so good -- and now THIS!"

"You've been a fucking little SAINT, Justin! I can't believe that you have withstood so much temptation up until now and resisted it. And that you are obsessing over THIS. And it IS funny! You were blindsided by little Wade, Sunshine, and your dick took over. Big fucking deal! THAT'S funny. It IS! You were horny -- big crime! I think you're more angry at yourself than anything else."

"I am, Brian. I'm furious with myself."

"So, now you're as pure as the driven slush, huh? Welcome to the club!" I can picture Brian shaking his head and laughing, sitting in that poolhouse, lying in the fold-out bed. "You know what I've always said about getting your needs met? I think Wade understands that concept pretty well already! Better than YOU, Sunshine!"

"I don't want to participate in jerk-off sessions with Wade!" I protest. "You know what I want, Brian. The same thing I've always wanted. The only thing." I'm serious. I hope he understands that.

"I know you don't want Wade. And I'm sorry I made it a joke, Justin. It's only that I thought maybe that you maybe didn't want ME anymore and I...." I hear him sigh. "Listen -- why don't we talk about this tomorrow, okay? I'll phone you from the boat."

"Really? Are you going to stay down there? All weekend?" I think of Brian and I, lying together on the back deck of the 'Colleen' up on the island.

"Until Sunday morning. I'll see what happens. If there are any major blow-ups. But I don't think so. I've been... smoothing the way a little. With Ron." He clears his throat when he says Ron's name.

And I hate the way that sounds -- smoothing the way. I can only imagine what it means. But I don't question it. How can I question it?

"So, don't throw away your First Mate shirt, Justin. Hear me? I've got to go now. Really."

"I hear you, Brian. Later."

"Later," he says. "And -- I love you, okay?"

He said it. FIRST! Over the fucking phone. "Okay, Brian. I... love you, too."

And he clicks off. And then I remember all the other stuff I was meaning to tell him. About Kip Thomas and Lindsay and the Wade Charade -- so many things. But none of them seem important right now. Not important at all. And I sleep without any interruptions for the first time in weeks. No interruptions at all. Just dreams. Sweet, blissful dreams.

Continue on to "'La Diva' -- Part 1", the previous section.

©Gaedhal, November 2002

Updated November 19, 2002