"Hi, my name is Curt-"

"Hi, Curt!"

"-and I'm a..." He paused, not for effect, but because nothing in his life until now had ever been this hard. "...drug addict."

The smattering of applause that followed startled him out of his preoccupation. Curt had never been to a twelve-step meeting. He knew he had problems. Had being the operative word. Those problems were in the past. But they never went away.

That was a lesson he'd learned the hard way.

He'd never really been one for introspection. He couldn't claim that he'd finally had an epiphany. Or that he'd suddenly developed insight. But he wanted to live. More than anything, he wanted that. And to keep using drugs, or to keep pretending that he could take them or leave them, was a lie he couldn't afford to embrace anymore.

Because drugs didn't take away the pain. They hid it from him, they buried it, but it was still there. Lurking beneath the surface, waiting to trip him up when he least expected.

Like now.

"I've been...um, what's the word?"

A helpful voice in the front row whispered something that no one else could hear, and Curt smiled gratefully. "Abstinent. I've been abstinent for almost a year now." A year. A fucking year. Coincidentally that was exactly how long it'd been since he'd seen Brian Slade.

Don't think that. Don't go there. This isn't a fucking test, and God knows you're not an A student anyway.

He used to think that he would do anything not to feel the pain. And he had. But he didn't long for death these days.

He'd had his chance, but he'd blown it. He'd never learned to stay. He was too good at running away. Years of practice did that to a man.

Even now, looking back, he wanted to scream, But I was right, dammit. Brian didn't love me. He loved the idea of me.

But it only took one fight to finish them off. All because Curt walked away. If he'd stuck around, if he'd met Brian halfway, if he'd only fucking been there, maybe things would have been different.

Maybe.

Maybe he should have contacted Brian after his former lover decided to kill Maxwell Demon. Maybe he should have seen it for the act of love that it really was. Maybe he shouldn't have gone to Berlin.

Maybe he shouldn't have started fucking Jack.

Curt was starting to get a few curious glances from his fellow members. Flushing dark red, he mumbled something about losing his train of thought and moved to sit down. He was halfway back to his seat when he saw him.

Jesus. Brian was here. Sitting in the back of the room. Curt didn't stop when he reached his row. He kept on going, Brian's face devoid of make-up, in fact devoid of any real color at all, drawing him like a beacon in the night.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. That earned him a stern "Ssh" from the people surrounding them.

Brian shrugged and turned away from him, obviously intending to leave without speaking. Curt hurried after him, equally determined to find out what had brought Brian to him. Finally. I want to say finally because there is still such a sense of inevitability to our relationship.

Even if we don't have one anymore.

Once they were outside, Brian pulled up the collar of his jacket, unsuccessfully hiding the distinct features known throughout the world. "Brian?" Curt whispered, completely unaware that he had left his own coat inside. He couldn't feel the cold. Not with Brian standing so close to him.

"You'll catch pneumonia, Curt," Brian said softly.

Curt laughed, his breath visible in the cold night air. Separated from Brian for nearly a year, he'd spent days, even months, contemplating what Brian might say when they saw each other again.

"I don't care," Curt replied. "At least I'd die happy."

"I don't want you to die," Brian said with an incautious smile. He was on the verge of begging Curt's forgiveness, and that knowledge burned inside of him until it shone from his light blue eyes.

"That makes two of us," Curt said hoarsely, his mutable eyes more gray than blue right now.

"Forgive me."

"For what?"

"I dunno. Everything?"

"Nah, not everything. Some things were pretty fucking good, you know."

"Which ones?"

"This one." Curt kissed Brian, his long, elegantly shaped fingers instinctively sinking deep into Brian's now-shoulder-length hair. With a helpless sigh, Brian kissed him back, suddenly reluctant to give up Curt's mouth, even for the few moments it would take to speak.

When Curt shivered, Brian drew back with a gasp and offered his jacket. "I'm not cold, man. Not anymore."

"You always knew the right thing to say."

"You always listened to me."

"Not all the time-"

"Close enough-"

"Stop. I have regrets, too, you know."

"I missed you."

"I never thought I would see you again. Not like this," Brian murmured, his beauty somehow more startling for its unaccustomed lack of artifice.

Curt buried his face in Brian's hair and tried desperately to hang onto the moment. This might be all he could have. He needed to be brave. Or he would fall.

Forever this time.

"I love you." Those words had never crossed his lips before. Not a year ago. Not ever. They reverberated in his head, their echoes rippling through him until he was certain that Brian must feel them, too.

Brian's arms tightened around his neck. "I love you, too," the younger man whispered.

"Oh, God, what does this mean?" Curt blurted out, belatedly realizing that he'd said the words aloud.

"I think it means we need to talk," Brian said seriously.

Curt nodded. "Maybe we should start over..."

Brian stroked Curt's cheek with his fingertips so softly that Curt feared he was at home, in bed, dreaming. "Maybe we already have..."

It scared the hell out of Curt to think how close he'd come to not having this in his life again. "Do you know what I say when people ask me how I'm doing?"

Brian shook his head.

"I'm too far from heaven to tell."

"And now?"

"I'm there."

End