"Justin." A voice calls softly, shaking my shoulder.

Yawning I open my eyes to see my mother standing there with two cups of coffee.

"Is this going to become a repeatitive thing for you?" She asks with a smile, handing me one of the cups.

Stretching, I sit up and realize that I must have fallen asleep on the couch. 

She sits next to me. "It's been two days since you got here and not once have you slept in a bed. Is everything alright?"

"Tim and I are just having some problems." I reply knowing it's a lie. Our whole relationship is a problem. 

"What kind of problems?" She asks.

I give her a look. 

"Fine, I'll drop it." She says taking a sip of her coffee. "So, I read in Art Forum that you are becoming one of the hottest artists in New York. They said that every piece in the last three shows of yours have completely sold out and the Chicago Museum of Modern Art is interested in featuring one your pieces. They also said you will be speaking at NYU." 

I smile at that. "That's just speculation. I haven't been offered a contract yet, but I have met with a few feelers from the CMMA. The NYU thing is scheduled in two weeks."

"Well I certainly expect that eventually Molly and I will be invited to attend something of yours in New York." She adds putting her cup down.

I can feel myself turning red. "I'm sorry."

"Uh huh. I want you to call me before the event happens instead of reading it in Art Forum post happening." She informs me. "You may becomming the next artist to change the world, but I'm sure even Warhol remembered he had a mother."

"I will mom. It's just things were so hectic and everything happened so fast..." I try to excuse myself. I know that I should've told her about the shows. 

With a smile she turns to me. "Nice try."

"I promise that any show I have, you'll be the first one I call." I smile back at her. 

She puts her arm around me in a semi-hug before getting up. 

"Mom?"

She turns towards me. "Hmm?"

I want to tell her everything that's going on with me. I want her to know, but for some reason when I open my mouth I can't. "Nothing. Thanks."

Nodding at me, she heads up the stairs.

Why am I so fucking weak? What happened to independant Justin? The only excuse I can make for myself is seeing Brian with someone else, knowing he lives in that house with someone else solidifies in my mind that it's really over. But then again last night floods my mind and for some reason I can't accept that. It can't be over. It just can't. 

Taking the stairs two at a time, I enter my room for the week. Tim is in there, the luggage is on the bed and he's packing.

"What're you doing?" I ask tenatively closing the door.

He throws a shirt in the suitcase followed by another. "What does it look like?"

"Why?" I say softly.

Tim turns to me and has such hurt and anger in his eyes that I have to look away. "Why? Why?! For starters you fucked someone else without a condom. Then you didn't even try to cover up for yourself. I'm a so tired of just being there." 

"You're not. You..." I start but he cuts me off as if he never heard me.

"Here's the thing, and I know you're going to find this fucking hillarious. I actually thought that with time and enough love I could make you forget about Brian. That you'd realize you were in love with me too, we could have a family, hell maybe even get married." He throws the cover on top of the suitcase and with angry fingers, zips it. "But I guess the joke was on me."

I just stand there. "Tim...I'm-"

"Sorry. I really wish you'd stop fucking saying that already! What does that do? It doesn't change anything. It's just a useless word that we say to try and lessen the damage of the situation. But it's nothing. So you're saying it means nothing to me."

"So you're just going to leave? You knew this about me Tim. You knew that I still loved Brian! I told you that when we first started seeing each other. You said you were fine with that. You've been saying you are fine with it!" I yell back.

Yanking the case off the bed, he slams it on the floor. "God damnit Justin! You just don't get it! I said that because I thought eventually you'd get over this, him! It's been five years. You're twenty fucking eight years old, you should be able to act maturally and get over him. He obviously got over you!" 

"That's why he fucked me last night?!" I scream. "That's why he told me he loved me when he came!" 

Tim smirks. "He probably fucked you because he knew it'd be easy. You're practically the whore of New York City. Don't think I don't know about all the men you've slept with since Brian has gotten married. Do you do that to prove you're still desirable even if he didn't want you? Or just because Kinney taught you how to be a slut!?"

I can only stare at him in shock. "Fuck you." 

He knows he crossed the line with that statement and reaches out his hand to me. "Jus I'm, I..."

"No. Don't touch me. Don't fucking touch me. Not now, not ever again." I growl.

"Justin, I didn't mean that. I didn't." He whispers.

I take a step backwards. "You did. But just so you know, I have only slept with two people since Brian got married. You and him."

He grabs his bag and stops in front of me. "I'll get my stuff out of the apartment. I'll be at my sisters place."

"I don't care." I murmur as he walks out of the room, the house and probably my life forever.

My mom, Molly and Tucker are all standing in the hall when I find the courage to leave.

"How much did you guys hear?" I ask knowing they probably heard it all.

Tucker unwraps his arm from my mother. "Enough."

"Honey I'm sorry." My mom says softly.

Shrugging I push past them towards the bathroom.

"Justin?" Molly calls after me.

Turning towards her I'm afraid of her question.

"Did you really fuck Brian without a condom?" 

I let out a small laugh. "Yeah."

She smiles back at me before I shut the bathroom door.

Sitting on the toilet, I allow the tears to fall. It's not like I didn't think this day would come. I just always thought I'd be the one to initiate it. Now that it's happened I don't know what to do. I'm alone again and that thought frightens the hell out of me.