Justin's POV I begin choking on the fry that I had popped into my mouth as a reaction to Michael's news. "Are you okay? Justin . . ." Loosing focus of my surroundings, I try desperately to get the fry out of my windpipe without much luck, coughing violently and grasping for air. Then I feel someone drag me out of the booth to my feet, wrap their arms behind me, and begin pound on my chest. Suddenly, the fry flies out of me and I start sucking in air in between coughs. Slowly with a watery gaze, I look over at the concerned faces of Michael, Ethan, and Debbie. I close eyes, fully aware of who is still holding onto me. "Thanks, Brian," I mumble, pulling away, out his hold and stumbling into Michael's arms. "Next time don't inhale your food," he remarks. "Oh my God, Justin, are you all right?" Michael asks as he hugs me tightly. My throat is a little sore. And this is one of the most embarrassing moments in my life, the worst part being that it was Brian who saved me. I would unfortunately live to regret this as long as I live. "Yeah," I utter into him. Michael sits me back into the booth, and Debbie checks me out in her motherly way. Deciding that I’m going to live, Dr. Mom gives me a hug and a kiss on the forehead, saying that I better not scare her like that again. Then she goes off to get me a glass of water. Reaching out, I pull Michael into booth with me, and away from Brian, effectively ending his thank you speech. Leaning in close, our foreheads touching, we entwine our fingers. Looking down at my plate, I push it towards the middle of the table. I have lost my appetite, but not because I nearly died eating. It is because . . . "You really are the best man," Ethan states with amusement. I glare at Ethan. "Yes, he is," Michael agrees tersely. "Well, I couldn't very well let your fiancé croak a week before the wedding," Brian says with cocky smile. "Besides, if I have a choice between going to a wedding or funeral, a wedding has fewer tears." )=( Michael's POV I look over at Justin as I drive him over to his studio. "Are you sure you are okay?" "Michael . . ." he groans, staring fixedly out the window. I can't believe I almost lost him at the diner. And over a French fry! A stupid French fry! I mean out of all the ways that I could have lost him . . . I guess it just proves you can't take anything for granted. Any little thing can change your life in a heartbeat. I feel my eyes tearing up. Thank God Brian was there. If I had lost Justin . . . Maybe, the universe is against us, because if it isn't one thing it's another. Shit, I'm beginning to think Mysteries Marilyn was right . . . "So what do you see? Am I going live happily ever after?" I ask Mysterious Marilyn with a slight slur as she studies my palms. "Mmm . . . Yes. Eventually, after you give up the blond angel and the little boy, you will find what you seek." "What?" My smile fades into a concerned frown. "Are you talking about Justin and Gus? And what do you mean I have to give them up? I'm not going to give them up." "Listen, Sweety. You're not going to able to keep them. It would never work out in the end. The universe is against you guys if you haven't realized it yet. Think about all that has happened between you and boyfriend." I don't believe this. It’s a load of bullshit, I think, pulling my hands away. "You're wrong." "I wish I was, honey, but as soon as he has entered into their world, there is nothing you can do." As soon as he has enter into their world . . . Shit, Ethan! I knew he was trouble. But . . . "But I . . . They love me." "And they always will," she assures me. "Justin would never take Gus away from me, nor would he leave me." Leave me for that fiddler. "I never said that he would be the one to take him." She sighs. "It will be for the best, trust me." "No, it won't," I snap. I look over at Justin who is kicking Ted's butt at the pool table. We catch each other's gaze, and he gives his winning grin before taking his last shot. I smile back. Blake wraps his arms around Ted, trying to comfort him for losing. Ethan comes up to congratulate Justin. Then suddenly I throw my hands back at Marilyn. "What if I ask him to marry me, ask him right now. . . There would be a wedding, right?" She shakes her head. "You're just making it harder on yourself." "Will there be a wedding?" I press. Looking down at my hands she says, "Well, actually yes. There will be," I jump up off the barstool and rush over Justin. She isn’t finished speaking, but that doesn’t matter right now. As I make my way over to the pool tables, I swear Marilyn continues with a "but”. However, I’m too far away by this point to hear her clearly anymore. I don’t care. All I care about is Justin. Justin and Gus. No way am I going to let that Ian take them away from me. "Would you stop that," Justin mumbles. "Stop what?" I ask softly, hoping he didn't see the tear escape from my eye, and roll my cheek. I quickly wipe it away. "Looking at me like that," he answers sharply. "Sorry . . .” I focus back on the road, but soon begin stealing glances in his direction again. "Are you sure you don't want to just go home and lie down?" I plead, pulling up to his studio building. "Michael . . .” he glares at me. "Okay." He starts to get out but stops. "I thought we both agreed that Emmett would be our best man. Why didn't you ask me first?" Honestly, I never thought about checking with him about it. "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would be a big deal, and I talked to Emmett this morning and he was cool about it." "So, I was the last to know about the sudden change in our wedding. Thanks, Michael. Thanks a lot." "Justin . . ." He slams the door in my face. Shit . . . )=( Brian's POV "I know I have it around here some where," Michael assures me as he searches for the box of my Rage comics, getting more frustrated and annoyed by the second. It's actually quite entertaining. Michael can make the pettiest little things into life and death situations in a heartbeat. Some things never change. As pathetic as they are, I missed his little tantrums the most. He begins cursing as he walks back into the storage room for the third time. I chuckle quietly, shaking my head. Frankly, I couldn’t care less whether he finds the damn box or not. I sigh as my gaze makes its way to the stairs, to their apartment. Liberty Avenue’s very own bottom boy, Todd, working on removing the lock I broke last night and replacing it with a new one. Apparently, Todd is the best locksmith in town. Go figure. But I guess it could come in handy in sticky situations. Especially with his extra activities. "How's it going up there, Todd," I ask. "Fine. Actually, I’m just about finished, Kinney," he says with a wink before going back to work. I nod. "So, are you staying for the wedding?" he inquires. I arch my eyebrow. "Why?" "Well, that's the only reason I can think of that would explain why you’re suddenly gracing us with your presence. I mean, no one thought they would ever see you again." Todd shuts the door and tries the lock, locking and unlocking with each key. "There you are, all set," he exclaims gathering up his tools and heading down the steps. "Michael really lucked out when he snatched up Justin . . . You know, they both had to deal with a lot of shit, and they deserve some happiness. It's good that you’ll be here for Michael on his special day. He really has missed you." What is he talking about? "What happened?" "Read the comics," Todd smirks as he hands me his bill and four keys. "If you ever need some company you know where to find me," he adds, and then walks seductively out the store. "In your dreams, Todd," I cough. I turn around to face Michael, who’s smiling with pride, holding a toilet paper box. "I see you have found the Holy Grail," I snicker. "So are they double plied?" "What . . . No, Brian. It's not toilet paper it's the comics." "You put my copies of a comic, starring me I might add, in generic toilet paper box?" "Ahh . . . Yeah. It's what I had at the time. But they are double plied, if it helps," he stammers, a smile playing across his lips after a moment. "Thank God for small favors," I snort. "Brian, cut it out. You don't have to keep the box." I roll my eyes, taking the box. The bell rings and young kid in his teens enters the comic store, ignoring everything but Michael. "Read it and weep, Mikey. I got a B. A fricking B. Isn't it sweet?" He waves a paper in Michael's face, but hardly long enough for Michael to focus on it. "So where's my comic?" "Hold on, James. Let me have the test." "Comic first." "James . . . How do I know you are not lying?" "I just showed it to you." "No, you flashed it front of me. It was all a big blur." "Well, you just have to learn to read faster. Besides, would this face lie to you?" the kid smiles. "Constantly." "Where's the trust?" "You have to earn it." "I guess I can't trust you either then. If you don't believe me, why should I believe you?" "Fine," Michael sighs, handing over a comic in defeat. "Coolness." The kid – James – stares at the cover, mouth open, seemingly about to drool. Michael pouts. "You would have had B+ if you hadn't forgotten to put your name on the paper." "Oh, I didn't forget." "What do you mean you didn't forget?" "Please, I got a reputation to keep." Michael glares at him, and he quickly asks, "So what's scoop on the next issue?" "I'm not telling," Mikey smirks slyly. "Come on, Mikey? Please . . ." "Well, you can't tell anyone," he warns. "Never." James crosses his fingers behind his back. I shake my head at the sight, holding my tongue. "I think it’s going to be Zephyr and JT's wedding," he says smugly. "You're kidding me right?" he frowns. "No . . ." "Huh, that sucks the big one. I always thought that Rage would end up with JT. No, offense, Mikey, but they would make hotter couple." "Why thanks, James." "Hey, is the truth. I honestly don't understand what JT sees in Zephyr." "Yeah well, I don't see what JT would see in Rage. They have nothing in common." "Hey, opposites attract." I chuckle out loud in amusement. This is priceless. "I think I prefer you lying . . ." The teen turns around and says in awe, "Holy shit, you're him, aren't you? You are fucking Rage." "James, watch your mouth. And yes, that's Brian." "You're even hotter in person," he remarks after giving me the once over. "Brian, this is James, he is my little brother." "Yeah, I see the family resemblance," I reply, voice dripping with sarcasm. "From the Big Brother, Big Sister Organization." "Ah, I see." The phone rings, and Michael rushes to it. "So . . . You don't have boyfriend, right? I mean Rage doesn't do relationships." "Neither do I," I state. James nods, "So . . . you want to hook up sometime?" This kid is something else. "How old are you?" "How old do you want me to be?" "He's not old enough, Brian!" Michael warns. "So don't even think about." "Don't worry, Michael. I don't fuck them until their balls have dropped, unlike you." "And what is that suppose to mean?" "He means he thinks you’ve robbed the cradle," James comments with a shit eating grin. Michael stares at him wide-eyed for a second, and then his eyes narrow into the Novotny Glare of Death. "What?" "Geez, Brian thinks Justin is too young for you." "He's only 11 years . . . and few months younger than me. Anyway, love knows no boundaries." "So it's okay that Brian and I fuck then?" "I said love, not fucking." "I have selective hearing. Sue me." "Look, I've got to go pick up Gus, so Brian could you pick up Justin at his studio? That way we won't be late for the family dinner." I sigh heavily. "I guess I could do that. Where's the studio?" "It's on West Amour," Michael replies, putting on his jacket. "I'll go with Brian, to help him find it," James chirp in. "A guide is better than a map." "Okay, but you better behavior yourself, James," Michael orders. "Always." Christ, what am I? The fucking chauffeur slash baby-sitter? "And, Brian, he is only fifteen. And I'm fully responsible for him. Keep him out of trouble." "Yes, mom," I grumble heading to the door with the teen in tow.