Enough To Go By — 12 & 13
Chapter 12
Justin
*
"There are moments that last longer than years."*
They spent the afternoon in the studio.
Brian had cleared it out while Justin was gone—like he couldn’t decide whether to keep it as a shrine or finally let it breathe. Now, sunlight spilled through the big east windows. Dust motes danced in the air. Everything smelled like cedarwood, turpentine, and memory.
Justin stood in front of a fresh canvas, shirtless, a pencil tucked behind his ear, and a smear of charcoal across his cheek. He hadn’t painted in a space that felt like his in years. New York had been white walls and clean lines. Berlin had been cold metal. This was… alive.
Brian stood at the doorway with a coffee and a silence that didn’t need to be filled. He didn’t interrupt. He just watched, eyes narrowing slightly as Justin moved—setting up palettes, testing color, sketching the outline of something that looked like a mouth. His mouth.
“Don’t move,” Justin said suddenly.
Brian blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Right there. Stay. That angle.”
He was already grabbing his graphite, measuring by eye. It was like breathing. Muscle memory. Need made tangible.
“I didn’t agree to pose,” Brian said. But he didn’t move.
Justin smirked. “Good. Because I didn’t ask.”
Brian leaned against the doorframe, lips twitching. “You always this bossy with your models?”
“Only the ones who used to fuck me and ruin my life.”
Brian tilted his head. “Ruin?”
“Okay, improve it. Eventually. After all the trauma.”
They fell into the kind of silence that was heavy with everything unspoken. Justin worked. Brian watched. At one point, Justin stepped back and realized he was trembling—not from fatigue, but from the sheer weight of it. The recognition.
He was painting Brian again.
And not just the body. Not just the lean muscles or the smug half-smile or the arrogant posture. He was painting the man he still loved. Still wanted. Still couldn’t fully understand.
The canvas took shape over hours. And when it was done—or close to it—Justin turned it toward Brian.
Brian stared.
There were no words. Just breath.
Finally, Brian said, “That’s not what I look like.”
“No,” Justin agreed. “That’s what you feel like.”
Brian crossed the room in two steps and kissed him, fast and hard, hands fisting in Justin’s paint-streaked t-shirt. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t polite. It was the kind of kiss that came with years of silence and too much distance.
They made love on the studio floor.
It wasn’t graceful. There was a brush jar that got kicked over. Brian cursed when his knee hit the corner of a crate. But none of it mattered.
Brian peeled Justin’s jeans down with practiced hands, bit at his throat, held his wrists to the floor like an anchor. Justin gasped and arched into him, already hard, already leaking.
“Fuck,” Brian breathed. “You’re still—”
“Say it,” Justin whispered.
Brian kissed him again instead.
When Brian pushed inside, Justin let out a low moan that vibrated straight through Brian’s spine. He moved slowly at first, then harder, deeper, until they were nothing but sweat and breath and desperate sound.
Afterward, Justin lay in Brian’s arms, head on his chest, legs tangled.
“You’re dangerous,” Justin murmured.
Brian kissed his forehead. “So are you.”
Chapter 13
Brian
*
"You left. I stayed. And somehow, we both ended up lost."*
The next day, Cole called.
Brian didn’t answer. But he stared at the screen until it went dark.
Later, he opened the message:
I booked the job in London. I leave in three weeks. You don’t owe me a goodbye, but if you want one, I’ll be at that bar we used to hate. You know the one.
Brian stared out the window for a long time. His phone buzzed again. This time it was Justin:
Gallery invite. Ted and Emmett want you to RSVP. I said we’re coming.
Brian looked at both messages and set the phone down.
When Justin walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, hair wet, shirtless, humming some terrible pop song, Brian knew exactly which goodbye he wanted to say.
And which one he didn’t.
He crossed the room. Pulled Justin into a long, quiet kiss.
“I’m not going,” he whispered.
Justin blinked. “To Emmett’s?”
“To see Cole.”
Justin didn’t say anything. Just nodded and pressed his forehead to Brian’s.