Disclaimer: Queer as Folk is not mine, it’s ShowTime et al’s. I’m just messing with the boys a bit.

Last night, Justin came home late.

This has happened more than once recently.

The last thing I want is to be possessive, but it worries me. Especially since I know he’s still on good terms with Brian, and that Brian’s paying for his tuition. Because I couldn’t.

Brian saved his life, I tell myself. Of course they’re still going to be on good terms. I suppose it’s not that he speaks to Brian that’s my problem. The problem is, he’s not telling me.

When Justin came in last night, late, I asked where he’d been. He became defensive, so I became suspicious. To avoid escalating the argument, I went for a walk. When I came back, he was asleep. End of discussion.

This morning I had an early class, and I didn’t wake him when I left. He muttered a goodbye between snores when I kissed him. When I returned, he was gone to work. He has an evening class tonight, so there’s a pretty good chance we won’t talk much at all today. This may be for the better.

I’m still angry. Not at any incident in particular, just angry. I feel like I’m still sharing his affections with Brian even though he broke it off. The unexplained late nights, the slightly more than friendly conversations I see them having – the fact that Brian clearly is in love with him – are not helping matters. But what am I supposed to say to him? He’s entitled to live his own life. I guess I’m to just wait here and hope that Brian never beckons him back.

“That’s bullshit!” I yell, frustrated, as I fling my bow across the room, producing a cacophonous screech on the violin strings. Playing usually helps me escape what’s on my mind, but today it’s just the soundtrack to my inner drama. Somewhat vented, I place my violin in its case and go to retrieve the bow, an innocent bystander. Through some miracle, it’s on the floor in one piece. I sigh.

“What the hell was that all about?” Justin asks, cautiously entering the room. His habit, when he comes home while I’m practicing, is to wait in the doorway so as not to disturb me. Unbeknownst to him until now, I am already very much disturbed.

I put on a calmer expression. “Why are you home so early?”

“Class was canceled,” he says, and by the intent in his stare I realize I won’t get away with changing the subject.

“Ah,” I reply, fleeing to the sink to draw myself a glass of tepid water. I drink it all and slightly less than gently put the glass down on the counter. When I turn around, he’s removed his shoes and coat and is still staring.

“So?” he says.

“So,” I answer.

“Are you going to tell me why you tried to murder that instrument?”

I walk past him to the bed, where I sit down. He flops down next to me and waits. “Justin,” I start, not knowing what’s going to come out next, “. . . it’s Brian.”

His eyes flash. “What, did he say something to you? I told him to leave you alone, but he doesn’t listen . . .”

“No, he didn’t say anything.”

“What then?”

I sigh and fall back onto the mattress. I notice a new water stain on the ceiling. “Forget it,” I say at last.

He slouches down next to me, propped up on an elbow. “Ethan, you don’t bring up that name to me and then tell me to forget it.”

“Of course not, it would be asking way too much for you to forget him.”

I really shouldn’t have said that.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? If you have something to say to me, quit being passive aggressive and say it.”

I break my gaze with the ceiling to look him in the eye. His face has taken on a slight flush, despite his careful maintenance of a blank expression. “He still loves you.”

“I don’t even know where to begin to tell you what’s wrong with what you just said.”

I sit up. “Tell me you don’t still love him.”

He hesitates for just a second.

I look away and cradle my face in my hands. “I don’t believe this.”

“What? You want to know the truth? Fine. I still have feelings for him. I’ll always have feelings for him. I owe him so much –“

“You don’t have to remind me of how much you owe him, Justin. It’s me you don’t owe anything to. I don’t know why I expected differently.”

He moves so that we’re face to face. He’s upset, and I’m wishing life had a rewind/erase button. “In case you’ve forgotten, I gave up everything he had to offer to be with you.”

“And an admirable sacrifice it was.”

He gets up and paces toward the door. He stops at the place where he left his shoes. He faces me. “Why isn’t it enough for you that I’m here with you now? I chose you because I want to be with you. I don’t want to be with Brian, and he knows that. Why can’t you?”

I stare from the bed, much of my adrenaline spent. “I want you to love me the way you love him.”

He looks away. “I can’t give you that. It’s not fair to ask.”

“And is it fair to have to live with the knowledge that there’s someone else in your boyfriend’s life more important to him than you?

He puts a hand on the doorknob, then pulls it back. He walks back over to the bed and resumes his place next to me. “Why are you doing this? Do you want me to leave?”

“God, no, Justin. That’s the last thing I want.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to begin this relationship so soon after I broke up with Brian. But it’s done now, we can’t go backwards.”

“No.” I sigh, and lay back down.

He falls back next to me, staring up. “Water stain,” he says.

“The landlord said he’d fix the plumbing up there.”

“Yeah, but sometimes things can leave a mark permanently.”

I turn my head to look at him in profile. He doesn’t meet my eyes. “How do we fix this?” I say, cautiously.

“I think we’ll just have to get used to looking at it.”

Together, we stare up at the ceiling, silent.

end