Notes: All direct quotes from the show belong to CowLip, the rest sprang from my depraved mind.

Fuck! What's up his ass this time? I had thought things were going fine once again after I stopped wearing pink and scaring Brian out of his mind. Not that he ever said as much. I figured that out on my own. He was fucking terrified, especially when he found the gun in my bag. That really was a stupid idea, I'll be the first one to admit it. But we were okay afterwards, weren't we? He didn't gloat, not even a little bit. He just opened his arms, figuratively speaking, enfolding me until the cold within me gave way to his warmth.

And now this. He's coming back, and I know he's sorry for his outburst – cause sorry really isn't bullshit, at least not always. It certainly wasn't when I was sorry for leaving him for Ethan, or when I pushed him away and joined Cody in his fight against homophobia. He looks so fucking tired, and for some reason I just know that a full-fledged fight is the last thing he needs. So even if I don't understand what's wrong, I'm going to show him that I'm not trying to control him – that I'm not clinging to him like I once did.

"You're right. You're absolutely right. We have no obligation to tell each other anything." He's shaking his head, his lower lip drawn into his mouth... "Look, if I did something or said something to piss you off ... I didn't mean to..."

He shakes his head again, and says that it's not me – well, thank God for that, cause I really can't think of anything... But he simply won't say what's pissing him off. I'm trying again, but he... "Okay... You go do whatever you have to do for whatever reason you have to do it. I just want you to know that I love you..." Shit, he's not even freaking out over this. Usually, he would at least treat me to a raised eyebrow, but now... He just stares at me blankly. This is bad. "And I'll be here when you get back." He grins, nods, and I'm getting this really terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach – call it intuition if you want, I'm calling it my Brian-radar. It came with the Kinney Manual, and while there were times I misplaced both, I found them again, and I'm going to make sure that I don't lose them ever again.

But since he refuses to share, there's shit I can do. So I pick up my jacket and head out to Cynthia who looks at me as if the end of the world was near. "I've never seen him like this, never. Not even when you ran off with that violinist ... and trust me, things weren't exactly peachy back then. And then, one day you showed up in the Art Department..." We both smirk. "I'm really worried, Justin. It's just not like him to simply take off..."

I'm about to respond when we hear the sound of something crashing in Brian's office. We both rush back and find Brian standing in the middle of his inner sanctum, hands covering his face, a lamp lying on the floor... Cynthia pushes me into the room, whispering, "He's your partner, you deal with him." That's a brilliant idea, with only one tiny little catch. He doesn't want to be dealt with. Whatever it is, he thinks he has to keep it to himself, making me feel fucking ... helpless.

"Is this some sort of payback?" He turns to me, his eyes shooting daggers. "For ... you know ... Cody and the gun and shit? I pushed you away, and now you do the same?" He's fuming, and I know he's this close to snapping. "I know what I said about not having any obligations ... but fuck that! We're partners! I know what I did was stupid, but that doesn't mean you have to do the same thing now. I love you..." I'm approaching him, and even though I'm aware of the danger I'm just putting myself in, I reach out to cup his face, "I love you. And I meant what I said, I'll be here when you get back. But I want to be here now. Whatever it is..."

"Why?" I have to strain my ears to hear it, and when I do, I need a moment or two to understand what exactly he's asking... Why me? Why do you love me? Of all the men you've met to this day, or will meet in the future, why did you choose me? Now I've to figure out if this is a trap, or if he truly doesn't know.

I decide to go for the second. "Because you know who I am. You've seen me at my worst, thrashing in my sleep cause of the nightmares, unable to bear even the slightest touch... You allowed me back into your life. You were always willing to support me, no matter the cost. You never treated me like a fucking kid, but as an equal – more or less, at least. You didn't run away – even though you probably wanted to on more than one occasion. I love you because you're still here despite all the shit that happened..." I fall silent and wait for the inevitable harsh comments.

But they don't come, he's just nodding again in that way that says, "Yeah, sure. Don't love me, Justin, cause I'm not worth it." However, I also see the hope in his eyes, and then... "I'm not going to Ibiza..." We're sitting on the sofa, and he tells me about lumps, and cancer, and surgeries, and I know I'm crying like a stupid little faggot, but I think it's okay this time cause his voice is shaking as well and his eyes are glassy... He's fucking scared. And so am I.

And yet, despite the horror of it all – though ninety-nine per cent sounds damn good to me, and I won't allow him to think that he's the one per cent that's left – I'm elated that he told me. Brian Kinney, Mr I-don't-believe-in-sharing-anything-except-my-come-and-spit, just told me something huge. And I'm even more determined to stand by what I said before. I'll be here when he comes back, no matter what. I think I'm saying that out loud, because he gives me a wry smile and bumps his forehead into mine. "Stock up on rusk, okay. Cause it might very well be the only thing I can eat once the fucking treatment starts, and I don't want us to run out of it." Did he just say us? "And ... get your stuff to the loft cause it might come in handy to have my own live-in slave..." Okay, that's not the way I was picturing it, but he still asked me to move back in, and I'll be damned if I let this chance pass.

After all that conversing with words, Brian apparently decides that he needs a different kind of conversation as well, and he's only shying away for a moment when I reach down to feel the small lump. And then he's making love to me on the sofa, and I'm wondering why we didn't christen it sooner. I can feel his desperation – in his kisses, the way he holds me tight, how he's trying to bury himself in me completely.

At the airport, he makes me swear to keep my mouth shut, and I get him to promise – and Brian Kinney normally doesn't do promises – to call when he gets to the hospital, and before they cart him off to surgery, and when he wakes up again... "You'll pay my next cell phone bill, I hope you know that." I smack him across the head as he gives me his tongue-in-cheek grin. "And if there's so much as a scratch in the 'Vette... You know that I can have you killed, yes? And no one will ever know it..." That was a real shocker. He made me drive him out here, and places his precious car in my hands. "You know where the keys for the jeep are, so you'll be using that from now on. And you'll pick me up in it. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing." I think he's more scared for his car than he is for himself right now. Like I'm that bad a driver. Fucker.

When I get back home, the loft is fucking empty without him. But I'll keep myself busy. Getting all my shit out of Daphne's and over here, making a mess of the place again... And I'll be doing it all for him, of course. To make sure he gets that lovely homey feeling when he comes back. He called, and the first thing he said was, "I hope the 'Vette's still in one piece." The surgery is tomorrow, and yes, he will call me before they pump him full of drugs. For some reason, he seems a lot calmer now, and not just because he resigned himself to his fate. Maybe I'm deluding myself here, but I think it's because he knows that I'll be there for him. That we will do this together... And we will, he's not going to get rid of me.