I turn to look at the other kid in my life -- the blonde that I can’t seem to shake. The blonde that I don’t want to shake.  He’s watching me with an expression that wavers between bewilderment and shock.  He’s probably thinking that he should have checked in the closet for pods the last time he was in the loft.  I’m thinking the same thing.  But shit, where is a pod going to hide?  There’s nothing left in the fucking place.  I think I’m safe from body snatchers. 

“Jesus Christ, Brian,” Justin says, “now you don’t even have a car.” 

I look away, watching the cheering crowd, shrugging away the momentary doubt his words inspire.  What do I need the ’vette for, anyway?  I mentally repeat what I’d told Mikey earlier.  It’s just a car.  It’s just a car.  His retort -- “the car of your dreams” -- wants to intrude, but I push it away with a sigh.   “Yeah, I guess I’ve lost everything.” 

Justin’s arm slides over my shoulders, drawing me close.  “Not everything,” he says with a matter-of-fact grin. 

No, not everything. 

We make our way slowly down the stairs, my arm heavy around Justin’s shoulders, his weight comfortable against my body… warm, soft, firm, inviting, unyielding.  A contradiction in terms, just like Justin himself.  We stop at the outskirts of the crowd, spinning in circles, trying to take in all we have wrought.  This is Justin’s victory much more than mine.  He made this happen.  It was Justin’s refusal to give in, to give up, to stand down, to beg forgiveness.  Justin’s staunch determination to fight against the odds.   Justin’s sacrifice of his art.  Justin’s uncompromising faith in his community, his family, his friends.  In me. 

Someone has lit the sky with green and yellow and blue flares.  They shimmer across the buildings like multi-coloured stars, a rainbow of colour, dipping to light smiling faces before soaring once again toward the darkened sky.  The night suddenly seems filled with an endless array of possibilities, if only a man has the balls to reach out and grab them. 

I look down at Justin’s buoyant grin and give in to the desire to take his lips, softly, a gentle pressure that promises much more to come.  Then I tug on his hand, start to lead him to the ‘vette… before remembering that my car is likely on its way to Cracklebarrel, Idaho by now. 

It hits me then.  I’m in debt up to my fucking eyeballs.  I have no car.  No job.  No furnishings.  No idea where I’m going to end up. 

No control. 

That would have fucking terrified me not so long ago.  Not being top dog, with the hottest clothes, the hottest job, the hottest men.  Now, I feel… free.  Liberated.  Maybe it’s time to let the legend die.  Maybe it’s time to… just… be a man. 

Justin sees me grinning inanely and no doubt wonders if I’ve now taken leave of all my senses.  I just shake my head at his questioning gaze, unable to rid myself of the grin, and continue to pull him down the street.  I haven’t a fucking clue how we’re going to get to the loft.  I guess I’m going to re-learn what public transit is like.  Fuck, Brian Kinney on a bus.  I think that’s one of the signs of the Apocalypse. 

“Don’t you want to stay and celebrate your victory?”

I stop, watching Justin’s face carefully, trying to judge what he wants.  Finally I just shrug.  If he wants to stay and party with the masses, we’ll stay.  We’ll eat, drink and be merry.  We’ll snatch another bottle of champagne from Woody’s and get drunk on the steps.  We’ll let the coloured lights paint our bodies as we dance under the stars. 

“Brian.” Justin’s tone is a little frustrated.  He gets like that.  We’re supposed to be communicating better these days.  But really, I don’t give a shit.  Stay or go.  It doesn’t matter to me.  As long as his arm is warm and tight around my waist.  As long as my fingers can brush through his hair, savouring its softness.  As long as the subtle scent of him fills my senses. 

“Brian,” he says again, raising a hand to my face. 

I close my eyes briefly, leaning into the gentle caress.  He waits patiently for me to focus on him again before continuing.  “What do you want?” 

His blue eyes gaze so earnestly into mine, my heart seems to skip a beat.  What do I want?  I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  What do I want?

“Everything,” I tell him, wrapping my hand behind his neck and leaning down to capture his lips again.  The riotous sounds of the celebration fade around us as we give ourselves up to the pleasure of the kiss.  Finally I pull away, smiling at his flushed face and knowing my own matches it.  “Conveniently,” I tell him softly, “that’s just what I’ve got.”