Author’s note: I’ve been trying to think of a decent plot for a Brian/Justin Christmas story for a week or so, without success. Then, I heard this song on the radio yesterday and the entire story popped into my brain immediately. I apologize for not ending the story the way the song ended, but I had to give our boys a happy ending.

Same Old Lang Syne

by Cathy

It wasn’t snowing when I began my walk, but that was over an hour ago. It’s snowing now, and I’m freezing. I’m about to cross the street and head home, when I saw the market halfway down the next block. I remembered that I needed to pick up a few things. I’d somehow managed to let Lindsay talk me into coming to Christmas dinner at the Casa de Lesbos and I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. Plus, they never had any batteries for any of the little electronic gizmos that Gus received as gifts.

The store was crowded - I guess I’m not the only one who waited until the last minute to shop for food. I was walking down the wine aisle when I spotted a strangely familiar figure heading toward produce. I lost my bearings for a minute; it was almost an accident when I walked up behind him in frozen foods. He had on an expensive coat and his hair was longer and darker, but there was no mistaking who it was.

Creeping up behind him, I touched him on the sleeve. He jumped - I don’t guess he heard me coming - and turned around quickly. He stared at me for half-a-minute, a serious look on his face. I think he was trying to figure out who I was.

"Brian?" I just stood there, staring back at him. Maybe I nodded. I’m not sure. "It *is* you, isn’t it?"

"Yeah," I said, finally. "It’s me."

"I don’t know if I’d’ve recognized you."

"I haven’t changed that much." I couldn’t stop looking at him. "Have I?"

He shook his head. He’d been standing an arm’s length away, but he took a step forward. "How are you doing?" Reaching out, he started to hug me. Before he could complete the hug, his backpack fell off his shoulder and onto the floor. We almost bumped heads as we both knelt down to pick up a sketch pad that had fallen out. I glanced at it briefly, before handing it to him.

"A friend of yours?" I nodded at the almost-finished drawing.

"His name is Marcus." He replaced the pad and zipped the backpack. "We’ve been together for seven years."

"Oh, is he the one you went to New York with? The ‘older guy’?"

He made a face. "He’s not as old as you are - he just turned thirty. *And* he didn’t even try to kill himself on his birthday."

"That was all a misunderstanding, you know."

"Right. Michael didn’t walk in on you, standing on a chair, with a silk scarf around your neck--"

"That’s enough. I know what you-all think I was trying to do."

He opened his mouth, no doubt, to continue the argument, when we arrived at the check out. We put our items on the conveyer and walked through.

We were making small talk about the weather when the cashier said, "That’ll be $28.14." He and I looked at each other awkwardly; they’d rung up and bagged our purchases together.

I pulled out a credit card while he separated the items. Neither of us said much as we carried our bags toward the door. I paused as the cold air hit my face. "C-can I buy you a drink?" I think I surprised myself with the question as much as I surprised him. He didn’t reply immediately. "That’s okay - I’m sure you have plans; it *is* Christmas Eve."

"No," he answered. "I don’t have to be back for a while. I’d love a drink."

I followed him into the parking lot, where he unlocked the door of sporty, black car. Once we were inside, he pulled out onto the street and headed toward Liberty Avenue. Babylon was closed, as was Woody’s. He drove by a couple more bars, but they were dark as well, he pulled into another parking lot. "Okay, do you have any other bright ideas?"

I shook my head. "I’ve never needed to find a bar on Christmas Eve." Once again, neither of us said much. As I stared out into the darkness, I spotted a brightly-lit store across the street. "I’ll be right back." I was out of the car before he could say anything. I bought a six-pack and brought it back to the car.

He laughed when I opened the bag and offered him a beer. "You go into a liquor store and buy beer? What happened to your old friend, Jim Beam?"

I opened a can and took a drink. "Well, I decided to stop drinking, about two years ago." He had a silly smirk on his face, as if I’d just announced that I was straight. "Don’t give me that look!"

"You?" He laughed. "Stopped drinking?"

"Okay, I decided that I couldn’t totally give up alcohol, so I gave up the hard stuff. Now I stick to beer and wine." I took another drink. "Mostly beer." He opened his beer and spilled some on his pants. "Shit, now you’re going to show up at your party smelling like a brewery. Will you be in trouble with your boyfriend?"

"No," he took a drink. "He didn’t come with me this trip." He suddenly found something fascinating to look at out the window.

"Trouble in paradise?" I wasn’t gloating; I was just curious.

"He has a big presentation the day after tomorrow. He wanted to stay home and work on it. Make sure it was perfect." He took another sip of the beer.

"How long are you staying?"

"Till the end of the week. I was planning on going to the diner. Maybe we’d’ve run into each other there."

"Maybe." I found myself staring at him again. "How are you?"

"I told you: I’m fine."

"You look amazing, you know. I didn’t think you could look any better than you did when you were a teenager, but you do. I feel like I could lose myself in your eyes, they’re so blue."

"Thank you, I think." He looked like he wanted to be impressed, but he doubted my truthfulness.

I decided to change the subject. "Happy?"

"What?" He glanced at me.

"Are. You. Happy? With what’s-his-name?"

"His name is Marcus. He’s a wonderful man."

"What does he do? For a living?" I finished my beer and grabbed another one.

"He’s an architect. A very successful architect. He’s one of the designers on the project that’s rebuilding Lower Manhattan."

"Well, I *am* impressed. Who did he have to sleep with to get a job like that?"

He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. "I will not allow you to drag me down into the gutter with you. He’s on the project because he’s brilliant."

"Did I say he wasn’t?" I pasted on my most innocuous facial expression. "Didn’t you two meet here in Pittsburgh?"

"Yeah." He seemed to be forgetting that I was making fun of his boyfriend. "He came to an art show at school, because of his cousin. He bought one of my drawings and I sent him a note to thank him."

"And the rest is history," I said, wistfully.

"Please don’t ridicule me." He sounded wounded, and I immediately felt guilty.

"I’m sorry." I still wanted to know what was so special about Marcus, the architect, but I had to proceed carefully. "Did you get accepted to Julliard before he asked you to move in with him?"

"No, he got the offer to transfer first, then he helped me get the scholarship. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d had to move to New York by myself."

"You would have been just fine. You’ve never been afraid of anything, have you?" Finishing yet another beer, I opened another one.

"You might be surprised." He was looking out the window again.

"What might I be surprised by?"

"By what I’ve been scared of…" He sounded weird and I didn’t want to pursue it. "What about you?"

"What about me?" I took a large drink.

"How are you doing? How’s your job?"

I shrugged. "Okay. I finally got fed up with Vance last year and bought him out. I’m the sole owner of The Vanguard Agency now."

"I hadn’t heard." He seemed genuinely impressed. "What’s it like to be the boss?"

"Not bad." One more large drink. "I’m on the road a lot."

"That’s nice." He said, uncertainly. "You always liked to travel, didn’t you?"

"Not for business, no. There’s no one I can trust with the really important accounts, so…" I didn’t finish the sentence but I think I made my point. "Besides, you don’t have a boss, do you? Aren’t you still doing the art thing?"

He laughed softly. "Yes, but just because I’m still doing ‘the art thing’ doesn’t mean I can do whatever I like. I have to keep current on what people like."

It was a surprise to me that he couldn’t draw exactly what he wanted to. "So, have you made your first million yet? Sucking up to public opinion?"

Once again, he threw me a look and I knew I had to watch it. "I never wanted to get rich, Brian. And I know that the world will never beat a path to my door, but that’s okay."

"Are you trying to tell me that you’re a starving artist? Still?" I was teasing.

"No," he smiled. Thank God, he got the joke. "I’m not starving. I have deals with a couple of small, but very nice, galleries in Chelsea. Mik, at the Sixteenth Street Gallery, says I might be ready for a one-man show next year."

"I’ll be looking for my invitation in the mail." I drained the can. "On second thought, I won’t be. You deserve to be happy with your architect, and I promise never to interfere with that happiness." I stared at him very hard for a long minute. "That is, if you *are* happy."

"Yes," he smiled, "I am. Marcus is stable and secure; he makes me feel safe."

"You’re talking about him as if he was one of the buildings he draws."

"Security means a lot to me - I thought you knew that."

Now it was my turn to look away. "And safe was never something you felt when you were with me."

"I never knew where I stood with you, Brian. How could I ever feel safe when, every time I came home, I didn’t know who you’d be fucking in our bed?"

"And you don’t have to worry about the architect fucking around?"

"I don’t expect you to understand it--"

"Oh, but I do." Now it was his turn to stare at me. "More than you know. I know that you made me happy. Happier than I ever was before, or will be again." I continued talking, afraid that, if I stopped and looked at him, I’d be struck dumb. "I lied to you when I said that I didn’t believe in love. I believed in it - I just didn’t think I was worthy of it." I opened another beer. "You showed me that it was possible for men to be totally devoted to each other, yet retain their dignity."

"Who said love had to be undignified?"

"I don’t know. It was a silly idea, left over from my childhood. I never got a chance to tell you how much of a difference you made in my life."

"*I*? Made a difference in *your* life?" The laugh that was bubbling up from his throat stopped when he saw how serious I was.

"Yes. You. The night you left me at Babylon was the worst night of my life. I should have run after you and begged you to come back home." If I said it fast enough, I might just be able to finish this.

"But you didn’t, Brian. You didn’t." His eyes narrowed and I dreaded what was coming next. "I gave you every chance to tell me how you felt. I looked the other way while you fucked everything that moved. I even tried the drugs and the sex with you. What did it get me? Absolutely nothing, that’s what!" He suddenly stopped talking, took a deep breath and sat back in the seat. "I don’t know what prompted you to tell me all these things, but it doesn’t change a thing. I’ve found a man who loves me very much and who makes me happy."

I stared at him as I took another drink. "Okay. I understand. Can I ask you just one more question?"

He looked a little wary. "Yes."

"You say he loves you, right?" He nodded. "Do you love him?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I could lie to you and tell me that I do, but I won’t. He knows how I feel, and he’s okay with it."

"It’s okay with him that he loves you and you don’t love him back?"

He nodded again. "He knows that I’m still in love with the first guy I slept with."

"Me."

"You. He doesn’t like it, but that’s the way it is." He looked so sad, sitting there. I regretted that I’d even started this conversation.

"Well, if he makes you happy, that’s all I need to know." I tried to think of something else to say, but nothing occurred to me. I opened my fifth beer and held it out. "Last one. Do you want it?"

He shook his head. "I haven’t finished this one yet."

"Okay. How about a toast?" I thought for several seconds. "To all our yesterdays."

"To all our tomorrows."

"As you wish. Time was never on our side, was it?" Sadness was overtaking me.

"No, it wasn’t." He drained his beer and started the car. "I guess I’d better get back. They’re gonna start wondering where I am."

"Yeah." I opened the door.

"Don’t get out. I’ll drive you home."

Neither of us said anything on the drive back to my apartment. He pulled up outside my building and I opened the door. Then I leaned over so my face was near his. "Have a nice life, kid."

"You too, old man." He kissed me briefly, but pulled away before I could get any closer. I scrambled out of the car and hurried into the building. Stopping just inside, I turned to watch him drive away. The snow, which had been falling, off and on, all day and all evening, had turned into rain. "Goodbye, Justin."

Same Old Lang Syne

words and music by Dan Fogelburg

Met my old lover in the grocery store

The snow was falling Christmas Eve

I stole behind her in the frozen foods

And I touched her on the sleeve

She didn't recognize the face at first

But then her eyes flew open wide

She went to hug me and she spilled her purse

And we laughed until we cried.

We took her groceries to the checkout stand

The food was totalled up and bagged

We stood there lost in our embarrassment

As the conversation dragged.

We went to have ourselves a drink or two

But couldn't find an open bar

We bought a six-pack at the liquor store

And we drank it in her car.

We drank a toast to innocence

We drank a toast to now

And tried to reach beyond the emptiness

But neither one knew how.

She said she'd married her an architect

Who kept her warm and safe and dry

She would have liked to say she loved the man

But she didn't like to lie.

I said the years had been a friend to her

And that her eyes were still as blue

But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I saw

Doubt or gratitude.

She said she saw me in the record stores

And that I must be doing well

I said the audience was heavenly

But the traveling was hell.

We drank a toast to innocence

We drank a toast to now

And tried to reach beyond the emptiness

But neither one knew how.

We drank a toast to innocence

We drank a toast to time

Reliving in our eloquence

Another 'auld lang syne'...

The beer was empty and our tongues were tired

And running out of things to say

She gave a kiss to me as I got out

And I watched her drive away.

Just for a moment I was back at school

And felt that old familiar pain

And as I turned to make my way back home

The snow turned into rain --

Epilogue

I was in bed, but not asleep, when I heard a knock on the door. My first instinct was to ignore it, but I got up anyway.

Pulling the door back, I saw the slight form that I once knew so well. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I… Can I come in?" His voice sounded so small, as if he’d run away if I yelled at him.

I stepped aside and let him in. We stood there for several seconds, looking at each other. I waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. I guess it was up to me to begin. "I thought you were supposed to be at a party."

"I left," he said, flatly. "I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said… earlier." I still didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. "You said you wished you’d come after me and asked me not to go."

"I had no right to say that to you, Justin. I… I was drinking." I turned and walked away, toward the sofa.

He closed the door and followed me. "Brian, you had a couple beers."

"Still," I sat down, "I wasn’t thinking straight."

He sat beside me. "When did you ever do anything straight?" We laughed. "The reason I came over was to ask if you were happy."

"Happy?" I was confused.

"Yeah. You asked if I was happy. I’d like to know the same about you."

"Justin… Why are you doing this to me?"

"What am I doing?"

"Bringing up all the old shit, that I hadn’t thought about for a long time."

"Excuse me, but *you’re* the one who brought it up."

This was getting too painful. "I’m sorry to make you come all the way over here, but," I stood up, "I really can’t talk about this now."

"That’s right!" He followed me across the room, to the stairs that led up to my bedroom. "Walk away from me! Push me away, like you used to."

I stopped walking and looked down at him. "I’m not pushing you away, I swear. I just can’t stand to be around you, knowing that I’ll never…" I stopped talking again.

"Have me again?" He’d always had a way of knowing what I was thinking. "What would you do if you could turn back time? Back to the night I left you. What would you say?"

I couldn’t say anything immediately, so I cleared my throat. "I guess… I guess I’d tell you that I need… That I want you to come back, and stay with me. I’d probably tell you that I love you and… Well, that’s about all, I think."

He moved up the stairs to stand next to me. We were - almost - touching. "I’ve thought a lot about that night too. I can’t remember ever telling you that I loved you - I thought you knew, but I never told you." Taking a step forward, he wrapped his arms around me. "Is it too late to tell you now?"

My arms were around the slim body before I knew what was happening. I was kissing his hair and inhaling his scent - the man whom I never thought I’d see again. He looked up at me with those beautiful blue eyes. "Is it okay if I stay here with you tonight?"

"Just try to get away." I lowered my face and covered his small mouth with mine. We kissed for what seemed like an hour, before he pulled back slightly. "Brian?" He was unbuttoning his shirt. "Will you please take me to bed?"

*&*&*&*&*

Later, we lay together, in each other’s arms. There was a lot that we needed to talk about: our future; where we were going to live; what we were going to say to our families and friends; how he was going to tell his lover that he was leaving. None of that meant as much as the fact that we were together again.

Where we both belonged.