Author’s Note: This is a gapfiller for episode 219, from Ethan’s POV. For some reason, I find it easier to write from his perspective than from Justin’s, even. I’m not sure why. Maybe I identify with Ethan, in some weird way. Maybe it’s just because Ethan gets to make love to Justin. :)

We’re lying in bed, talking. Nothing important; just pillow talk. Sometimes I think I enjoy the sound of my own voice too much; maybe I should shut up, but he seems to be interested in what I’m saying.

More than the words are the feelings we share. He’s changed so much from the cautious kid who just happened to walk by my rehearsal room a few weeks ago. He smiles a lot when he’s here and he seems so much more relaxed than he was.

We’ve just finished this silly conversation about me playing him like the violin. I’m trying to tell him, without getting too serious, how amazing it is to make love with him. He’s so sexy and hot and beautiful and sensual. Every time I touch him, he responds like it’s the first time he’s ever been touched.

He’s quiet for a minute and I hear him sigh softly. I prepare myself for what I know is about to happen.

"I have to go." His voice is soft, but he leaves no room for argument. I want to grasp his slim body tightly and beg him not to leave me. Not tonight…

I remain silent as I watch him dress. Damn, he looks almost as good putting his clothes on as he does taking them off. The smile has abandoned his face. "You know," I try to sound casual, "if you stayed sometime, we could wake up together. Watch the sun rise. Makes everything red and gold."

He finishes dressing and leaves, without saying anything.

Turning over on my stomach, I bury my head in the pillow. I can’t go to sleep and I don’t feel like playing. In the week since Justin and I first made love, he’s been back here three times. Every time it’s been the same: we talk, we make love and then we talk some more. He won’t allow us to discuss his boyfriend or why he’s here. He tells me that what happens on the other side of my door has nothing to do with us while we’re on this side of it. So far, I’ve humored him, but I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to keep myself from saying something that I’ll regret.

I turn onto my side and pull the sheet up to my chin. The smell of sex overwhelms me. When I close my eyes, I can feel his soft skin as my hands stroke him. The memories of his kisses remain on my neck and chest and stomach. I can hear his moans as he moves under me, begging me to fuck him harder.

Slowly, my hand moves down to touch my cock, which has become rock hard from thinking about him. I pretend that it’s Justin’s hand touching me, bringing me to a quick, and solitary, orgasm.

Afterwards, I don’t want to open my eyes. I can feel the sting of tears that I refuse to allow to fall. He’s back at his boyfriend’s trendy loft by now and they’re probably in bed together. Is Justin writhing and moaning under him with the same passion as he did when he was here?

I can’t think about this any more. Crawling from under the bedcovers, I throw some clothes on and pick up my violin. Despite my intention to snap myself out of this, the only melody that I seem to be able to play is sad and melancholy. Just like me.

*&*&*&*&*

I have a couple of hours between classes so I head out to my favorite street corner on Liberty Avenue, to play. The foot traffic is less than what I’d wished for, but it’s a beautiful day and I enjoy being outside. I’m nearing the end of a song when I see a familiar figure walking toward me. He has a huge smile on his face, which makes me smile as well. We talk about his comic book briefly; he says he wants to make enough money from it to pay for tuition next semester. I wonder why he’s worried about money when he lives with his rich boyfriend, but I decide not to ask about it.

I invite Justin out for a latte, but he says he has to finish putting up posters. He doesn’t show any signs of wanting to leave, however, and I ask him if he wants to see a film on Saturday. He gets this little-boy look on his face as he confesses that he’s never seen a French movie. I call him a peasant, but I say it so he knows I’m kidding. I start telling him about Jules et Jim, a Truffaut movie I’ve never seen. I observe that, since only the men’s names are in the title, perhaps they are in love with each other and not the woman. Justin gets a faraway look on his face and says, ‘It’s hard enough loving one person.’

I want to say something to change the mood but all I can think of to say is, ‘If you’re the one the other two are in love with, then you can break both their hearts.’ I didn’t mean it to be as bitchy as it sounded. Maybe I should have apologized for saying it, but I didn’t. Justin looks sad. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen evidence of the pain he was going through, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. I wanted to say or do something to make him smile again - I was becoming seriously addicted to his smiles.

I kissed him.

It was supposed to be a quick peck but, once our lips touched, we both became emotionally involved. I wanted him to know that I would never make demands of him and, no matter what happened between him and his boyfriend, I’d be there for him; I’d be content with whatever part of him he was able to give to me.

He broke the kiss and I stared at his face for several seconds, trying to make sure he was okay. As he turned away, he said he’d call me about the weekend.

I spent the rest of the day in class and in the rehearsal hall. When I returned to my apartment, I kept one ear out for a knock on my door. I never know when he’s going to show up but I always look forward to when he does.

Not tonight, though. He must’ve had something to do with the boyfriend. I strip my clothes off slowly, wishing it was Justin’s clothes I was removing instead. He loves it when I take my time. I don’t think he’s had much experience with foreplay and, by the time we’re naked, he’s practically breathless with desire. I could do anything I want to him and he’d let me, but I only want to please him. I’ve made it my own personal project to discover all the things he likes and then do them repeatedly.

I burrow down under the covers and close my eyes. All I can see is Justin’s face, smiling at me. I can hear his soft laugh. Once again, I move my hand down my chest and belly, to my crotch. Thinking about Justin turns me on and I know I’m not going to be able to go to sleep until I take care of my problem.

*&*&*&*&*

It’s almost an hour later and I’m still awake. Pulling a pillow close, I wrap my arms around it, pretending that Justin is here beside me.

*&*&*&*&*

I’m almost late for class, so I’m hurrying up the street. I see him, standing by the door to the music building. ‘I missed you last night,’ he says, before I have a chance to speak. ‘I’ll be over later.’ He kisses me and hurries off.

*&*&*&*&*

I’ve only been back from class a few minutes when he knocks on my door. I open it with a huge smile on my face. "I just got here." I joke. "Did you follow me?"

"How’d you guess?" He kisses me in the doorway. I lean back against the wall and try to pull him close, but his hands are full. He steps back and hands me the pizza box he’s carrying. "I’m starving. Let’s eat."

I fetch an almost-full bottle of wine and we recline on the floor to enjoy our meal. When Justin is really hungry, he focuses all his attention on eating. I watch him stuff food into his mouth as we tell each other about our day.

A short time later, we’ve finished eating and he moves over to lie next to me on the floor. I reach out my hand to pull him close. He buries his face in my neck as he unbuttons my shirt and kisses the skin on my shoulder. After not seeing each other for more than a day, we’re both on fire. I have a vague thought that we should move to the bed, but I never get around to actually suggesting it; my mouth seems to be otherwise occupied.

I close my eyes - Justin says I always make love with my eyes closed - and concentrate on making him feel as good as he makes me feel. I know, from the beginning, that we won’t last long this time but that’s okay. This won’t be the last time we do this tonight, if I have anything to say about it.

Afterwards, we finally move to the bed, where we can cuddle in relative comfort. We talk intermittently – he tells me what it’s like to draw and I tell him how I feel when I play. Large amounts of time pass, however, without any words being spoken at all – we don’t seem to need verbal communication to feel close to each other.

Justin asks me to play something for him. I crawl off the bed, still naked, and pick up my violin. As I play, he goes to the couch and fetches his sketchpad. I get a glimpse of the page and there’s something already on it. I ask him what he’s doing and he says he started it late last night, when he couldn’t sleep. I take a step forward and ask to see it. He clutches the book to his chest. ‘It’s not finished,’ he says.

‘I don’t care. What’s it a drawing of?’ I ask.

He smiles smugly and says, ‘You’ll see.’

We spend the next hour or so indulging our creative urges. I play while he draws. He finally says, ‘It’s finished. Wanna see?’ I lay the violin down and hurry over to where he’s sitting, on the bed. Timidly, he holds out the sketch.

It’s me.

I must be frowning as I look at it. His face falls. ‘You don’t like it,’ he mumbles.

I bite my bottom lip as I gaze into those beautiful blue eyes. ‘No,’ I shake my head. ‘I love it.’

He’s beaming again now. How did I acquire the ability to change his whole demeanor with a few words?

I’m staring at the drawing - I can’t believe how good it is. ‘You really are brilliant, you know.’ I’m trying to think of something funny to say. ‘You even made *me* look good.’

He doesn’t laugh. ‘That’s how I see you, Ethan,’ he explains. ‘On the outside, you seem to be all dark and brooding, but you’re not really like that. On the inside, you’re sweet and smart and funny…’ He stops talking and looks at me. I lay the book down and move toward him. As our bodies melt together, my hands caress his soft skin. He kisses me gently, deeply, as we stretch out on the bed. He pulls me over on top of him. I want to kiss every inch of his face before I move down to worship his body with my mouth.

A few minutes later, I shift over so we’re lying side by side. Justin runs his fingertips across my thigh and then moves over to grasp my hand, our fingers interlocked. I decide that it would be okay to stay here, loving Justin, for the rest of my life. Or, at least, for the rest of the night.

A few hours later, I’m still in bed, staring at the door. Justin just left - once again, I couldn’t talk him into staying - and I’m lying here replaying the evening in my mind. He was less resolute when he declared his intention to leave and I think I’m making progress.

Who knows? Maybe tomorrow night will be the night he stays.

*&*&*&*&*

I saw Justin for a minute this afternoon. He said he’d be over later than usual because he had to go to the bowling alley with some of his friends. I assumed his boyfriend was among them but I didn’t ask him anything about it.

I hear the familiar knock on my door and run to answer it. ‘I thought you weren’t coming ‘til later,’ I say. ‘What happened to bowling?’

‘Fuck bowling,’ he laughs and then he pushes me against the wall, kissing me furiously. I consider that to be the end of that conversation as we move quickly to the bed, pulling clothes off along the way.

Justin is hot for it tonight. I wish I could ask him what happened to cause him to practically attack me, but I’m enjoying it way too much to ask questions. I’m lying on my back and he’s kneeling over me. His mouth moves down my neck and chest to my stomach and then lower. I feel his hot breath on my cock just before he swallows it and begins sucking. Moaning, I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensual pleasure that he’s giving me. It takes very little time for him to bring me to the edge of orgasm.

As I lie still and attempt to catch my breath, he shifts around so that his face is near mine again. I pull his head forward and kiss him, tasting myself. ‘That was amazing,’ I whisper, between kisses. ‘Thank you.’

‘You don’t have to thank me,’ he says, grinning. ‘Reciprocate!’

Subtlety has never been one of Justin’s strong points. I don’t mind - I would have had the same idea as soon as my head cleared a little. I push him over on his back and begin the long, slow journey from his mouth to his dick.

*&*&*&*&*

It’s late and Justin hasn’t mentioned leaving yet. I’m starting to believe that this might be the night he stays. We’re lying on our sides with our arms and legs entangled; his face is so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my cheek. We’ve been talking about everything and nothing, as usual. He sounds as if he’s getting sleepy…

My eyes are closed - maybe I’m falling sleep - when I feel him moving beside me. ‘Play something beautiful for me,’ he says, ‘before I go.’ I’m looking at his face and his expression is unreadable. I think he really wants to stay with me tonight… but he thinks he can’t. I’m terribly disappointed, but I try not to show it as I begin playing something slow and melodic. Justin dresses and leaves without telling me goodbye - he never says goodbye. When he’s gone, I stop playing and sit on the couch for a long time, thinking.

I wonder if there were any words I could have said to him to keep him here. I’m sure there weren’t. I’ve shown him, in a hundred ways, how much I care about him. I haven’t told him that I love him. I don’t believe in ‘love at first sight’ and I’m not sure we’ve been together long enough to even begin exploring the depths of our feelings for each other. I know that there’s something there, and I think he could feel the same, but he’s still so completely wrapped up in his boyfriend. Maybe I’m just a distraction for him. Maybe they’re going through a bad patch and he’ll forget about me as soon as they work out their problems.

There are so many things that need to be said between us, I know that. Whenever we’re apart, I think of questions I want to ask him and all the things I want to tell him. When we’re together, all the words and questions are forgotten in the joy I feel just being with him. What we’ve become to each other, in a very short time, isn’t about words anyway.