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The Kane Series



7 - Counter Mornings

Brian and Justin’s POV


Rated PG-13

 ******************

Brian

I don’t know exactly when it was that I started having breakfast at the diner again. Okay, that’s a lie. It was one month to the fucking day after our little rain-soaked interlude in front of my loft. The same night I regurgitated my entire relationship with Justin to Ewan Kane, at his request. That was entirely too exhausting.

I woke up in that strange hotel room the next day completely disoriented. I treated Kane like shit as I stormed out. When I called him in London a few days later he was incredibly understanding, irritatingly so. He gets me, which I don’t get.

After that he started calling me. At first I wouldn’t even take the calls. I was busying myself with work, trying to forget a certain blond someone, trying to get on with my life. I decided it was all I could do. Then the prick made friends with Cynthia. Even she fucking started to believe he was good for me. They’d have little chats about my fucking disposition. How “Brian was doing” on any given day. So finally, if for no other reason than to put an end to their endless banter about my life, I started talking to him.

Kane is the one who convinced me that the only way to move past what Justin and I had was to reintroduce him into my life as something else entirely. Kane said if I ever wanted to be in a room with him and not feel, well the way I feel now when I’m in a room with him, then I needed to be friends with the kid. So that’s how this diner business got started. Fuck if I know why I’m listening to some old British coot who feels that it’s his place to restore my non-relationship with my teenaged lover once-removed. It’s all very bizarre. And if I gave a shit maybe it would alarm me, but the truth is…well the truth is, I don’t know if I give a shit or not. Maybe I do. Whatever…

 

“Ah, twice in one day. To what do I owe this great honor?”

“Brilliant, you’re clearly in a better mood.”

“What do you want?”

“To see what you think about Armani’s Fall line, Brian. What the fuck do you think? Have you thought more about what we discussed earlier?”

“I’m working. I have a job that requires my undivided attention.”

“So in other words it’s all you’ve thought about for the last two hours and you have no fucking clue what you’re going to say to him.”

—silence—

“I hear you sighing Brian. You know I’m right.”

“I don’t even know if he’ll fucking be there.”

“Yes you do. Admit to yourself that you keep tabs on the boy. I bet you have 50 different ways to find out where he is and what he’s doing anytime of day or night.”

“The only thing I’m remotely interested in is who he’s doing, and that’s only so I can be sure I’ve already had him.”

“For fuck sake, Brian. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“I’m so sorry Ewan, where is it you were looking to go? I have a great travel agent.”

“You’re in a shitty mood today Brian… well, shittier than normal. I’m going to call you back later in the week.”

“Wait…”

“Wait what? Counseling you from a thousand miles away when I should be working isn’t my idea of a great time, so if you’re going to act like…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. I don’t need this. Don’t call anymore and we won’t have this problem.”

“Brian…”

“Ewan…”

“I’ve talked to you every couple of days for a fucking month now. That’s probably more than you talk to your closest friends. I know you a little by now. You’re freaked out about seeing him tomorrow. You should be. You have no idea how he’ll react. You haven’t seen Justin in weeks. He walked away from you the last time you did. You have every right to be nervous.”

“I’m not scared. I’m not nervous. I’m just not looking forward to it.”

“Well, you should be. In the morning, you’re going to walk into that grungy little diner, have some fucking coffee and make a new friend.”

“Why did we decide I needed to be friends with him again? I don’t need any fucking friends. I have too many of those as it is. Thankless bastards that they are.”

“Come on Brian. Don’t start. Go see him tomorrow and feel him out. Don’t be a shit and don’t stick your fucking huge foot in your fucking huge mouth.”

“You know what they say about men with large feet.”

“I’ve already seen your dick, Brian.”

“Exactly, so you know the myth is true.”

“’Myth’ is the key word there.”

“I have to go, a new client’s coming in shortly.”

“I bet they’re coming. Hope you don’t give them all the ‘Brian Kinney special.’”

“Just the good-looking ones.”

“Good to know you find me attractive. Call me tomorrow.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be good for you.”

“Bye mom.”

“Goodbye, Brian.”

 

So I went to the diner that first morning and it was fine. The first five minutes were next to unbearable, but after that, when Justin saw that I was just there for coffee and a little harmless banter, he let down his guard. Fuck, he even smiled at me when I left that first day. That’s why I keep going back, that fucking smile.

After that, I saw Justin most mornings before I went in to work. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, when I knew he’d be in at 6, I tried to get there early so I could eat alone at the counter and talk to him a little. It was easier without a fucking audience. And I didn’t have to deal with the combination “you just ran over my puppy” and “I’m going to kill you in your sleep” look that was permanently plastered on Michael’s face. Not to mention the fucking running commentary from the Porn King and his Homo-Coming Queen.

Justin and I sort of slide into this little routine. He’d pour my coffee and smile at me. I’d roll my eyes and ask him about school. He’d answer, honestly. Then he’d ask me about work. I’d answer, honestly. We actually had good conversation. I realized Justin was the only person I really talked to about my life. And he was the only person whose life I actually wanted to hear about. I don’t know how it happened, but there we were…being friends. Fuck if Kane wasn’t right, it was much easier than I thought.

I don’t know which I’d feared more: that he wouldn’t forgive me or I that wouldn’t forgive him. But, suddenly, that wasn’t an issue. Suddenly, we were just being. Time had passed and we’d both changed. It got easier every day.

 

Justin

When Brian first started having breakfast in the diner again I was sure I’d die. He’d walk in one day in his double-breasted, steel gray Armani with his hair tousled just right and that sexy swagger in his step and I’d pass out. Unable to stand the proximity. Unable to be in the same room with the greatest love of my life, knowing that it was over. Knowing that we’d been reduced to the roles of patron and server.

But then…I don’t know…then something started to happen. I just relaxed. He was coming in so regularly that I didn’t dwell on it anymore. As the weeks passed and I got further from my breakup with Ethan and further engrossed in my school semester, life just got better. It became easier to breathe, easier to smile, easier to be in the same room with Brian and be comfortable.

Ethan and I never really talked. That probably isn’t healthy, but it seemed so much easier. I think in a way we knew it couldn’t last. Like he knew my heart wasn’t mine for the giving because it belonged to someone else. I collected my things quietly a few days after I walked out on him and that was that. The fate of our relationship was inevitable; maybe that’s why the end was quick and quiet. I regret hurting him, and hurting Brian, but I’m happy for what we had. I’m happy for what Ethan made me realize I needed and wanted and was allowed to ask for. Even if he wasn’t the one I needed or wanted it from.

Seeing Brian suddenly became something I looked forward to. He’d come in a few days a week really early and eat alone, without Mikey or the guys. He’d sit at the counter and I’d pour him coffee and bring him whole-wheat toast with no butter; he didn’t even have to ask. We’d chat about what we’d done the day before. About what we were up to, what we’d heard through the grapevine, just about anything. It was amazing, really. I talked to Brian more on those few mornings a week than I ever had when we lived together. It was easy because there was no subtext. Turns out we really do have a lot in common. The way we see the world. The things we enjoy. I knew there’d been more to us than sex; we just never really took the time to figure that all out. It’s nice to feel vindicated in that sense now.

So I guess that leads us up to today. Today is Thursday. He should be in early today. But assuming that Brian has a pattern, even though I know he does, would be a big no-no. If he knew that I could stand with my back to the door of the diner, start counting down from 5, and know that he’d swing it open, sashay over to the counter, throw his briefcase on the second stool and sit in the first while he turned his coffee cup over and stared at my back while waiting for me to validate his presence by the time I got to 1…well, he’d kick my ass and stop doing all of that. So today, like every other Tuesday and Thursday for the past 8 weeks, I’ll act surprised to see him.

5…4…3…2…well what do you know?

With a little twinkle in my eye, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He smiles, warmly. It makes my whole body tingle. He points at the coffee cup with one of his long, perfect fingers. God I miss those fingers. God I have to stop thinking like that.

I just nod and pour, regular coffee…he takes it black. I can’t believe he drinks it like that. I take three sugars and two creams. Once he accidentally picked up my cup off the counter in the loft and raised it to his lips. I almost stopped him, but I let him drink it. A misty cloud of the mocha-colored liquid came spewing out of his mouth all over the counter, both barstools and my bare chest. All I could do was laugh and laugh. He was so pissed at first, but then he laughed with me. It’s memories like those that I allow myself to have now. The others remain under lock and key.

He takes the first sip of the mediocre coffee we serve at the diner and then smiles at me. He nods, to let me know it is satisfactory and I can go about my business. We have this same exchange on his “counter mornings” as I’ve come to call them. I love seeing him every time he comes in, but the days when it’s just he and I with a counter between us, those are the ones I crave.

I guess it’s how easily we got here, to this state of being friends, that shocks me the most. I would’ve imagined that after what happened that rainy night, Brian would hate me more than he had before. I thought maybe I’d hate him more than I had before, even though I could never, ever hate Brian. It’s funny how the things that you least expect are the ones that happen effortlessly, when you aren’t even trying.

 

Brian

This coffee sucks. I always end up drinking half a cup and then hitting Starbucks on the way to the office for the good stuff. I get here so fucking early to spend time with him that stopping for coffee is never an issue. Well…whatever, it’s good to get to work early. It’s more quiet and I get a lot done.

I wonder what he thinks of my coming in here so early twice a week. Sitting in here alone and talking to him. I wonder if cares? Fuck, I wonder if he’s noticed? He has to have noticed. Of course he has, look at that shirt, it’s one of my favorites. Coincidence? Doubt it. Always aiming to please, that’s my Sunshine.

He bustles around the counter area and the adjacent tables. All the customers love him. Only the regulars show up at this time of the morning. They call him by name. They’re patient with him. They all tip him well. Pays to be young and blond with a great ass, especially this early in the morning when people realize you’d rather be sleeping. He’s never complained about this job or the rough hours in all the time he’s been working here. I know Debbie works his schedule around his classes and stuff, but being here at 6am on Tuesdays and Thursdays when he has class the rest of the day, I bet that’s hard on him. I wonder if his hand gets too tired? I’ll have to talk to Deb about that.

I watch him bend over the corner booth to refill an older man’s coffee cup. The man smiles so contently. He probably comes in here every morning just to see Justin. It’s a great way to start your day.

I swivel my head away just before Justin turns around. I’ve perfected watching him, without letting him know I’m watching him.

 

Justin

Does Brian actually think that I don’t know he’s staring at my ass? Does he think I actually need to bend over this far to fill up a fucking cup of coffee? I could fall in love with him all over again for that. Maybe I have.

I smile brightly at Dan, one of my regular customers. He knows who Brian is and he knows the drill between us. As I draw back from filling his coffee cup with decaf he whispers, “He’s watching you again.” That’s what brings on the mega-watt smile that earned me my nickname. Dan smiles back, he likes to see me happy. I actually think of him as a father figure in some warped way. He’s the right age, and very nice to me. Always listening to my early morning babble and offering little tidbits of advice, but never judging me.

I wink at Dan and then turn around, only to see the back of Brian’s head. He’s good; it’s rare that I actually catch him staring at me. I just feel the weight of his stare as I walk from the counter to the booths to the counter to the kitchen to the storeroom. It’s always with me, always on me. In a way it warms me, makes me feel safe. He can come in here and watch me as often as he likes. It is safe for us to do our little dance here in public, with everyone watching, nothing bad can happen. We never touch, never get too close. Never remind one another of what we had, what we lost, what I threw away…

They say time heals all wounds. I’ve found that it numbs the pain for sure, but I think healing is something else entirely. Something that doesn’t just happen, something you have to really work on. When I think about what Brian once was to me it tugs at my insides and makes me feel a little faint. But, I can handle being with him. The way we are now. As friends, chatting in the diner, exchanging witty repartee. I’m fine with this now, but I couldn’t have done it a few months ago. Look what happened the night I went to the loft - I almost lost it. Then I didn’t see him for at least a month. I think that time was good for me. It helped me end that chapter of my life and start a new one. Not necessarily a Brian-free chapter, but one in which I’m the main character, not Brian.

The wounds he left, the ones that are supposed to heal with time, I can still see them. They still ache. He can give me a certain look, or talk to me in a certain tone, and I am suddenly and easily transported into the past, when my love for him was central to my existence. I don’t want to go back, and I don’t want to be that person again. But, a part of me can’t deny that I want to feel that way about him again. Maybe I could feel that way about him again, but I can’t let myself. Maybe I’ll never let myself.

The thoughts all scare me, so I push them out of my head and approach his place at the counter to see if he needs more coffee.

Brian

Christ, waiting for something to happen between Justin and I is about as amusing as getting your dick sucked by a woman. No, it’s worse. Because this isn’t just slow and boring, it’s slow and agonizing. We’ve built this friendship…maybe the only good one I’ve ever had. I’ll always consider Mikey my closest friend, but everyone knows how fucked up our relationship is. I can’t help thinking that if Justin and I had just these last few months in the diner instead of our shared past…we’d be something pure and perfect. But, without our past we’d have nothing. I never would have given the kid the time of day if I hadn’t fucked him first.

He saunters over to me, coffee pot in hand. I curl the edges of my lips and he gives my nearly untouched cup a funny little look.

“Did you finish that project for the student showcase?”

He smiles this ridiculous smile. Absolutely ecstatic over the realization that I not only listen when he speaks, but I remember what he says. He stammers, “Uh...yeah. Yes, I did, a couple of days ago.”

“So when is it?”

“When is what?”

I have to smile to myself. He’s taken aback by my interest in the show. I contemplate it a moment too long and then suddenly feel…kind of bad. He’s so easily made happy, why do I resist it so hard?

“The showcase, boy wonder.”

We exchange a sarcastic smirk at the, now almost ironic, nickname and then he returns to his normal state of being. “It starts tomorrow night, actually. There’s this little reception thing that I have to go to. All the students in the show will be there.”

Suddenly a pang of something familiar shoots through me…some might label it jealousy. “Will Ethan be there?”

He nods, eyes wide. As if it’s the first time he’s made the connection himself. I remember him saying the showcase was for a select group of outstanding freshmen in each area of study. It would only make sense that the child prodigy of stringed instruments be in attendance.

I confine my grumble to the back of my throat, trying to push down the thousand and one shitty things I want to say right now. It’s a physical battle to not lash out at him. It’s an internal struggle to not feel like he should pay for how he left me…for breaking every rule.

“Maybe I’ll stay home then.”

His eyes are wide again, but with a different kind of shock. I see his body almost hiccup as he says quietly, “You were planning on coming?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Oh.” He looks down. I can’t see his eyes. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Did he want me to come? Does he still? Is he happy I’m not? What the fuck are we doing here?

“Do you want me there?”

Just raises his eyes to me, his face devoid of emotion. Wonder where he learned that trick? This is his shot. I’ve opened the door. I’m letting him know I’ll be there if he asks me to be there. I’m letting him know I’ll stand in the same fucking room as the fiddler, all for his happiness. I can’t say more than this, I can’t do more than this. If it isn’t enough, if I’m not enough, I’m going to cut my losses now and forget about it, forget about him. The question was loaded, loaded with subtext. We both know what I’m really asking. We both know the question ended at the word “me.”

Justin

‘Do you want me?’ The words play over and over and over again in my head. They spin around and make me dizzy with horror and delight at the same time. It’s too fast. I guess I knew this would happen, we’d take another step. Knowing Brian this is all part of his master plan.

I don’t know if I’m ready for him to be in my life again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. But I need him. I crave him. I love him. I’ll admit it all, to myself, only to myself. His face is still as he waits for my reply. I wish I could see more in those dark, brooding eyes than I do. He asked me if I want him there. ‘Of course’, I want to shout and jump the counter and kiss him and touch him. But I won’t…I don’t dare. The question is loaded and my answer is imperative. I have to think this through. I have to do the right thing. For once, for fucking once, I have to do what’s right, for both of us.

Brian

He looks at me almost quizzically, blinking as he cocks his head. He’s contemplating it all. He’s wondering what will happen if he says yes. Yes, Brian I want you to be there. He’s wondering what will happen if he says no. I don’t really know the answer to either question. I just know what I want him to say.

Just say ‘yes’ Justin…Just. Say. ‘Yes.’

Next Part

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