Despite collectively owning five umbrellas, they'd managed to leave all of them either at home or in the Jeep which was parked a good six blocks away. The rain, which had begun modestly enough, gently taping the roofs of cars, suddenly picked up until huge drops drummed against everything they touched. Ducking into the first open doorway they came to, Brian and Justin laughed and shook their hair free of water. Then they looked around to see where they were and their eyes gleamed with delight.
Bookcases lined the walls, filled not only with books but also with assorted knick-knacks and doo-dads. A Six Million Dollar Man lunch box sat next to a complete set of James Bond novels, black hardcover edition. A dozen blue glass goblets shared a shelf with a tea cozy in the shape of a rooster. A See and Say leaned against a Trivial Pursuit game. In addition to the bookshelves there were a dozen or more glass display cases holding everything from medals and bits of silverware to marbles and toy cars, cut glass tiaras and wooden beads. The walls were covered with dart boards and mirrors, candelabras and banners, posters and hand woven rugs. There were baskets of croquet balls and packs of playing cards; and a tall canister filled with… umbrellas.
Justin tugged Brian's arm and pointed.
"Probably an antique," Brian said. "I don’t want to spend forty bucks for an umbrella when I've already got three."
"But never one when you need it," said an unseen voice, coming from the depths of the store.
They looked. Saw a doorway covered by a piece of damask. Holding the cloth to one side was an older man. In his late sixties maybe, snowy white hair and twinkling blue eyes. He'd spoken with a soft British accent which meant he'd chosen to live in the USA and in Pitts, something that amazed Brian. He still couldn't believe that Emmett had stopped in Pitts on his way to New York City and had never gone any further. Of course, he was still here. He didn't like to think about that very often. The only things that made it bearable were his family and friends, in particular, Justin, Gus, and Mikey.
The proprietor smiled. "I assure you, not all of them are antiques. Some are just junk. But one man's junk is another man's treasure." He came out into the main body of the store and both Brian and Justin could see that he was a handsome man still despite his age, fit and trim. And his voice conjured up visions of tea plantations in Ceylon or big game hunting in Kenya. Passing them, he instructed them to look around. " I was just about to close up. Have a spot of tea."
"Oh," replied Justin, "we'll go."
"No, no," the man said, waving away the suggestion. "Stay. Join me if you like. There's plenty. I always make too much. It'll take the chill off."
Checking with Brian visually and receiving no signal at all, Justin accepted. He never turned down food. "Thank you."
As he led them to the back, the man said, "Maybe by then the rain will have stopped and you won't have to purchase an umbrella after all."
The two lovers followed him out of the store and up a flight of stairs to an apartment above. They were both astonished that he'd trust them in his home; they were even more astounded that they'd accepted.
He could be some kind of a killer, thought Brian. Fuck. Too late to turn back now. Maybe they could contrive not to eat or drink anything. Anyway, he looked harmless enough.
In contrast to the chaos below, his home was pristine, composed of clean lines and simple furnishings, understated elegance yet warm and inviting.
Brian approved and Justin told him, "I like your apartment."
"Thank you." He gestured to the sofa. "Please, please. Sit." As they did so, he glanced around the apartment although he knew where every item was by heart. "Thomas and I spent a number of years getting it just right."
Justin exchanged a look with his partner. Thomas and I…
"But," their host said suddenly, "where are my manners? I'm Sebastian, Sebastian Mills," and held out his hand.
Justin took it. "Justin."
"Your rings are quite lovely. How long have you been together?"
Risking a pinch or a poke from Justin, Brian replied, "A looong time."
"Can't have been that long," Sebastian pointed out, "Justin only looks to be... nineteen?"
Justin nodded. "We met when I was seventeen."
"Ah," Sebastian beamed, "young love." Clapped his hands together once and rubbed them. "The tea. I'll return shortly." And he disappeared through a doorway and they heard him run water in the sink and then set something down on metal, most likely the kettle on the stove.
Justin leaned closer to Brian. "Where do you think Thomas is?"
"Shady Grove." A local cemetery.
"Me too. Poor man. He must be so lonely. I’m glad we came up."
"We'll see how glad you are when we end up next to Thomas."
Justin elbowed him and straightened up as Sebastian returned with a tray of sandwiches.
"You shouldn't have gone to any trouble," Brian said, which was the polite thing to say, so his mother had taught him as a little boy. Still, he took the proffered plate and napkin.
"No trouble at all, I always make too much. Habit, I suppose. From when Thomas was alive."
Never having had tea, even in London, Justin was curious about everything. He took a couple of the tiny sandwiches from the platter and without hesitation tasted one. Seemed to be some sort of a paste but not bad. "You do this everyday?"
"Old habits." The kettle sounded. "Excuse me." Again he returned to the kitchen.
A glance outside the window told Brian that the rain hadn't slacked off any. He too found the sandwiches tastier than they looked.
"Still think he's trying to poison us?" Justin asked and Brian kissed him. Just as he pulled away, Sebastian returned with a tray. On it were three cups and a porcelain tea service.
"It's been a long time since two handsome young men kissed in my parlor." He set down the tray. "Brightens up the place." Handing each a cup, he poured the tea and offered milk and sugar of which Justin accepted both while Brian took only sugar. There was also a plate of assorted cakes and cookies to which they liberally helped themselves.
As the question had been burning in his mind, Justin asked, "Why did you leave England? We went to London this summer and it was amazing."
"Well, it was rather a different place after the war."
"What war?" asked Brian. After all, England hadn't been the site of a war since the big one, WWII, and Sebastian couldn't have meant that one. He wasn't old enough.
"World War II," the man replied.
"Must have been a baby," said Brian.
"No," Sebastian said, confounding him, "a soldier. Not much older than Justin."
Taking a second look at their host and doing the math, Brian shook his head. "I can't believe you're in your seventies." He didn't look it. His eyes were clear, carriage erect, hands steady, gait sturdy.
"Thank you. Military training, you know. Never gave up exercising. Keeping fit."
Giving Justin the eye, Brian smiled and took another sandwich. He was always telling Justin how he should exercise more but the teen preferred to rely on his metabolism to keep thin. So far it had worked. "Why did you come to America?" Brian asked, returning to Justin's earlier question.
"I met an American soldier stationed in Britain."
"Thomas," supplied Justin.
"Yes. Thomas." He looked out of the window and both Brian and Justin knew that he wasn't seeing the rain here but in Britain instead. Maybe he and Thomas had run through the rain the same as they had all those years ago. Looking back at his guests, Sebastian continued with his story. "We fell in love and decided to return to the States. America was experiencing a boom after the war and Europe was definitely on the decline. I suppose we could have stayed and helped with the rebuilding but we were young. We were in love. And we'd seen enough of war and destruction. We wanted to be happy, to live the way we wanted to live."
"Were you? Happy?" Justin perched his cup of tea on his knee.
"Very much so."
And the sadness in his voice told Brian that he missed his lover still. "How long has he been gone?"
Sebastian set down his cup of tea. "Three years now. He died in his sleep. Quite peaceful. We'd never looked for it to be that way. Because of the war." He stood up and went over to the fireplace, took down a small photo in a chased silver frame. Handed it to Justin.
"Is that you?" In the picture were two handsome young men, one blonde, the other with dark brown hair, arms around one another's shoulder and waist, sitting on a sofa.
"We took that photograph in 1950, at someone's apartment in Greenwich Village. Can't remember whose." Brian handed him the photo. "My hair used to be the same color as Justin's."
Brian found himself drawn to the older man. "Have you always had this place?"
"No. We both retired from the steel mills. He was a foreman and I was an accountant."
Both Brian and Justin laughed. "We have a friend who's an accountant," Brian explained. "I can't see him firing a handgun in combat. Actually, it kinda scares me to think about him with a gun at all."
"After we retired, we bought this place and set up shop. I do just enough business to keep it open and not a whit more." He glanced out of the window. "Looks like the rain's stopped."
As they had finished their tea and they had no real reason to stay-- except that they'd fallen a little in love with their host-- Justin and Brian decided it was time to go.
Downstairs in the shop, as Sebastian was walking them to the door, Justin espied a miniature plaster model of the Tritone Fountain in the Piazza Barberini, the one with the bee. "Hey. We saw that when we were in Rome."
Removing it from its niche, Sebastian offered it to him.
"Take it. For spending an afternoon with a lonely, old man."
"We'll pay you for it," offered Brian but Sebastian refused.
"My gift. Please."
Justin held the model in the palm of his hand and marveled at the detail. Then shyly kissed the older man on the cheek. "Thank you."
As they walked away, they saw him turning the 'Closed' sign around.
The miniature fountain occupied a place of honor on the nightstand on Justin's side of the bed. Waiting for Brian to come out of the bathroom, he smiled as he looked at it. Brian returned and laid next to him, slipped his arm around his torso. "I really liked him," Justin said.
Brian kissed his shoulder. "Yeah."
Turning in his lover's arms, Justin reached up and touched his face. "Thank you."
"For being nice to him."
"He's kinda sweet."
Justin reached up and kissed him. "So are you." They kissed for a few moments, then Brian broke from him and looked over the teenager's shoulder at the model.
"I can still hear the water splashing," he said and he could feel it too, on his fingers, where he had dipped his hand in the fountain.
Glancing back at the model, Justin remarked, "Everything was so beautiful there." He turned to Brian, studied his face and the line of his neck. "Beautiful here too." He traced an airy pattern on Brian's throat, then brought his fingers up to his lips to brush lightly over them as well.
Brian bussed the tips of Justin's fingers, then drew them into his
mouth. Released them. Leaned over to kiss his lover's lips.
Two weeks later, Justin found himself back in front of Sebastian's store. He hadn't noticed the name before: Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe. Appropriate for an Englishman. Pushing open the door, he went inside and there was the owner sitting in a comfortable wing-backed chair reading. When he saw who it was, he smiled. "Justin."
Pleased that he'd remembered, the teen gave a little wave. "Hi."
Putting away the slender volume, Sebastian stood and held out his hand. "How very good to see you again."
"I couldn't remember where this place was so I just wandered around."
"Sit, sit." Justin took a footstool near Sebastian's chair and they both settled down. "And how is Brian?"
"He's great. He's at work today."
"On a Saturday?"
Justin found that funny that the man seemed surprised since Sebastian was at work too. Sort of. "He made partner so he's got twice as much work to do now." He hadn't intended to sound bitter but knew that he did. He shrugged casually.
"So, you're a free man about town, out on your own recognizance." It made him smile just as Sebastian had hoped. He really had a beautiful smile, one that made the older man's heart race just a little. Foolish, he told himself. "Luckily, you're just in time for tea."
As before, Justin waited while Sebastian puttered in the kitchen, having refused any offer of help. "I know where everything is and it'll only take a moment," he had said. So Justin walked around the parlor looking at the artwork on the walls and the pictures on the mantelpiece until Sebastian returned. His taste in art seemed to run to watercolors and landscapes but the pieces he had were exquisite nonetheless, including some fine Turner prints. As he set down the tray and Justin came back over to the sofa, Sebastian explained, "I adore Turner."
"We saw his paintings of Venice at the National Gallery. Everything seemed to be bathed in sunlight. Once we got to Venice, we understood what he'd meant."
"Sounds as if you had a marvelous trip."
Even now he could feel the Tuscan sun on his face, hear the Vespas whizzing by, see the Charing Cross station glistening in the starlight, smell the fresh bread baking at the boulangerie. "It was amazing."
Taking a cautious sip, Sebastian asked, "Where else did you go?"
"To Spain and Paris."
"And which city did you like best?" As Justin hesitated, Sebastian urged him on. "Come now, I have no loyalties to London. I've been too long in America for that."
"Paris," Justin replied at last.
"The art, the food, the shopping… the Champs Elysees and Montmartre… going out to Versailles… walking along the Seine at night. It was just so beautiful." He ducked his head. "And so romantic." Softly, he added, "I think we fell in love all over again in Paris."
"Happens quite often, I hear," teased Sebastian. He watched Justin study his cup of tea, smiling to himself. "You love him a great deal."
That love was at the heart of everything he did, grounding him most days; even when there was trouble between them, he held onto it as the only surety there was. "I do."
"Especially to commit to him when you're still so very young." As he watched Justin, he saw himself at that age, a soldier in the war, uncertain if he was going to live another day, another moment. The world seemed vast and, at the same time, too much with him. And then he'd found Thomas.
Rubbing his ring, Justin said, "He was my first love."
Sensitive to the precise meaning of the words, Sebastian asked, "But not only?"
And Justin shook his head. "But I have a life with Brian. Better than I ever imagined."
"Yet you seem a little sad." When they'd stumbled into his shop escaping the rain, the teen's eyes had glistened with excitement; now, they shone as well, but with unshed tears he would have imagined.
Remembering the evening they'd dined on a rooftop in Naples, looking out at the bay, holding hands across the table, Justin explained, "We were so happy in Europe. Everything was perfect."
"And it's not now?" prompted Sebastian.
"No. Yes. I mean—it's… It's just life, I guess. We spent almost every moment together while we were on vacation and we talked about everything." He lowered his eyes. "I hardly see him anymore. When we came in your shop, that was the first time we'd spent a day together in months. He's always working or I'm in class." Suddenly embarrassed by his confession to a stranger, he laughed. "You don't want to hear this."
"Come. Have some more tea," Sebastian said, "and tell me the rest."
"What about the store?" asked Justin aware of the time that had already passed.
"I'm retired. I do as I please. That's the beauty of it."
So Justin accepted another cup and sweetened it. Held it loosely in his hands. "I feel like there's so little time."
"To do what?"
"Everything. I don't want to waste a single day. Because…" He paused, then began again. "Because you never know what could happen."
"What are you afraid will happen?"
Justin stood and walked around the room again. Stopped in front of one of the Turner pieces. Why had he come? Why here, to talk with Sebastian? Turning his head, he saw the photograph of Sebastian with Thomas. They had made it, had been together all of their lives, so it was possible. Then what was he afraid of? "That I might lose him," he said after a moment.
"From what I saw, he loves you just as much as you love him." It had pleased him, the easy way they'd had with one another, hard won he supposed. There was something about their faces that told him they'd seen their share of troubles, and had overcome them, something about the eyes that seemed wiser than their years.
"He does. But I don't always do the right thing."
"I would suppose he doesn't either."
God, no, and he almost laughed, but he couldn't. "And I'm careless."
"We all are. Justin, my dear boy, you're only nineteen. Much too young to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders."
"You did it." He picked up a framed picture of Sebastian in his uniform. Handsome. "You were a soldier in the war."
"And I was much too young as well. Enjoy your life. Enjoy being in love."
Justin put down the photograph and sat down once more. "How did you do it? Last so long together?"
It was what they all wanted to know, the young men starting out so unsure of everything. "We realized that nothing was more important than our relationship. That doesn't mean that we didn't argue." He laughed. "We argued all the time. And we strayed. Made mistakes. Took one another for granted and behaved most foolishly. And we were very fortunate."
"I want us to grow old together. I want to look back on my life and see him there. Always."
"And you will."
"You can tell the future?" Justin asked, smiling again.
Holding up his cup, he peered inside. "It’s in the tea leaves." They both chuckled and he patted Justin on the knee. "You'll have a wonderful life together."
"Did you know right away when you met Thomas that you'd be together always?"
He could still see Brian walking towards him, feel his heart pounding when he realized that Brian was coming to talk to him, was interested in him. "I wanted that more than anything."
"Now, all you have to do is live. One day after the other, moment by moment."
"That's so easy to say!" A little embarrassed by his outburst, he fumbled with his napkin.
Sebastian reached over and patted his knee. "There's no manual. No magic potion, no secret formula. It's different for everyone. Even if Thomas and I were starting out today, there'd be no guarantees that we'd make it because we'd be different people. All you can do is to remain true to yourself. And to try to the best of your ability to be a good partner, a good friend. If anyone tells you otherwise, be suspicious."
"But there's so much… of everything. I feel… like there's too much sometimes. I feel so small. And lost."
"And a little scared?"
"Sometimes." Like that morning he'd awakened to hear Brian and Drew talking. When he'd realized what had happened, his heart had felt like it was going to burst and he'd wanted to lie down and close his eyes and never open them again. But he hadn't, he'd gone down and fought for Brian, for both their lives. Scared out of his mind.
"It's perfectly fine to be scared. Fear is a very useful emotion. Keeps you from being foolhardy. Take my word, you can be brave and a little fearful too. And remember, he's there for you. Depend on him as he depends on you. Take care of each other. That's my only secret." Justin peered into his eyes to see if he was being truthful. "That no matter what happened, we faced it together."
And so they spent the rest of the afternoon talking and looking at old photographs, Justin listening to Sebastian's stories about growing up in London, and the war, and coming to America, and being with Thomas and he wondered who would listen to his stories when he was old and how long Sebastian had waited to be able to tell someone his.
Before he left, he hugged the older man and promised to return. Soon.
As he entered the loft, he thought he smelled shellfish and sausage. Closing the door, he looked around astounded by the transformation. Stretched across all three of the livingroom windows was the Bay of Naples at sunset. The dining table was draped with a golden table cloth and by each setting was a napkin of burnt sienna. In the center of the table was a vase filled with Gerbera daisies: cheery yellow, deep orange, and bright magenta. The window closest to the bathroom offered a panoramic view of Paris at night.
The man held a hot pan with an oven mitt. "You're just in time." He dumped the appetizers on a platter and brought it to the table. "Put your stuff down and grab the wine."
"What's going on?" he asked as he did what Brian requested.
Setting the platter down, Brian waited. After Justin had put the wine and glasses on the table, Brian kissed him softly beside the mouth. Held him by his shoulders. "I know we haven't spent a lot of time together since we got back. It’s been crazy at the office—"
"It's okay." He wondered if Brian would buy that.
"No, it's not. But it's getting worse. We're…" He paused, then shook his head. "There's no point in going into it, that's not important. I just wanted you to know that it's gonna be tough for a little while longer."
"I understand,” he replied, which he did. He didn’t like it but he understood.
"I'd rather be with you."
Closing his eyes, Justin leaned against him. It’s all he’d wanted to hear. "I know."
"I think about you all fucking day."
"You do?" He’d figured the new account would have taken up all of his time.
"And I missed you so much today, I thought I'd go crazy."
"Brian…" When he said things like that, it made Justin lose his train of thought.
"So I decided that we need a little vacation. And," he waved towards the loft, "since we can't go back to Europe, why not let Europe come to us? The Bay of Naples, the Parisian skyline… paella from Spain, Italian and French wine… And,” he picked up the remote and cut on the CD player. “The Counting Crows."
Justin laughed remembering them dancing around the fountain in Leicester Square. "What’s for dessert?"
"Tiramisu?" Brian smiled and Justin leapt in his arms. "I love you."
Holding him tightly and kissing him again, this time below the ear, Brian whispered, "I love you too, baby. More than anything."
Over dinner they played catch-up.
"This campaign is kicking my ass," Brian revealed. "I don't know what the fuck to do. The clients hate everything we bring to the table and Ryder's about to blow a gasket." He twirled a plucked daisy in his hand. "It's my first real test as partner. I can't fuck it up."
"You won't. You're an advertising god, remember?"
"Maybe I'm slowing down. Getting…" He took a deep breath. There was no point in thinking about that because it was going to happen if he lived: he would eventually get old. But maybe it would be all right, as long as Justin was with him. "What about you? What did you do today?"
"I went and saw Sebastian. The man who owned the antique shop. Remember?"
"Yeah.” Wasn’t bad-looking for an old guy. Wonder if I’ll look as good? “You have tea?"
"And we talked."
Brian smiled and threw the daisy at Justin who ducked, then bent over and picked the flower from the floor, held it to his nose. "Never mind,” Brian told him, “I'll just read your journal." Which was a joke between them.
"He's really amazing.”
Softly, "So are you."
Taking Brian's hand, Justin stood and came around the table, sat in his
lap, and kissed him gently. "So are you."
Brian parted from him, both of them virtually breathless, and Justin reached for his lover, the man showering his fingers with kisses before leaning in for another taste of his lips. Between breaths, Justin said, "Kiss me."
"No," he began but couldn't finish as Brian continued to gnaw on his lips.
Drawing away again, Brian asked, "Where?" Before Justin's hand had reached its destination, Brian had guessed where it would come to rest. Wrapped around the base of his cock. The teen held it away from his stomach, a line of precum stretched from its tip to the fine hairs that dusted the flat plain of his belly. With a growl of anticipation, Brian kissed the moist head. At Justin's groan, he continued, lips pursed about the cap to deliver a series of gentle kisses.
Each touch of Brian's mouth was feather soft. His lips brushed over the teen's skin, teasing him, demanding that his flesh stiffen, fill, tingle.
When he had covered the entire head with kisses, Brian moved down the shaft, giving it the same treatment, until he'd left his print all over Justin's cock.
Legs spread, back arched, and mouth open, Justin moaned as Brian made love to him. He was so hard and Brian's lips were so soft… He cupped his balls, thumb on the neck of his dick to keep it free of his abdomen, and fought the urge to thrust. Sticky, clear liquid dripped down his shaft and onto his fingers and he thought he would explode. Brian had moved around so that he lay between his baby's thighs and he stroked the smooth columns of flesh feeding the boy's arousal. At last Justin released his cock and through slitted eyes watched as Brian devoured him. Each tug, each suck made his head spin.
Mouth full, Brian hummed his pleasure, Justin's cries accompanying him. Finally, he reached for the lube. Slicked Justin from base to tip and held him upright. They had dispensed with condoms, done with two rounds of testing and the waiting period. Now, they were back to having sex the way they preferred. Positioning his buttocks over the teen's rampant cock, Brian lowered himself until the head eased between his cheeks. Feeling it press against his hole, he grinned, then rotated his hips slowly.
Justin gripped his thighs and held him still, pushed and entered him.
Pressing down, Brian opened around his lover with a sigh. As he came to rest at the base of Justin's cock, he shivered. His nipples were hard and as Justin touched them, rubbing his finger over the tips, it felt as if he were stroking his dick. In response it dripped, precum running over the head, glistening in Justin's pubes as Brian rode his cock.
Rise and fall, rise... and fall. Brian's movements were like the ebb and flow of the ocean and in Justin's mind he could see the waves surging over the shore of the Bay of Naples, then receding. Brian was liquid, his body coated with sweat, skin slick with it; saliva flecking his lips as he panted. His muscles jerked with the motion of fish swimming through water.
"Baby," he moaned. "Baby…" Tightened around Justin. Tightened.
Tightened. "Oh— Oh, baby. Oh, baby." He caught his breath and shuddered,
cum gushing forth to spill on his lover's belly while Justin cried out and
fountained inside him.
One more meeting with those assholes this week and he could put them out of his mind for a few days. Saturday, he planned on sleeping in late and Sunday, he and Justin had a date for brunch. Just the two of them. Opening the bulging folder, he stretched his neck and looked around as the door opened. "Baby?" As the teen neared him, Brian could see that his eyes were shiny with tears. "What?"
Fuck. Gone then. Taking Justin in his arms, he held him close and swallowed around a lump in his own throat.
"His lawyer called. Said that Sebastian left something for us."
"When's the funeral?" Selfishly, he hoped it didn’t interfere with his plans.
"Did he say how…?"
"Died in his sleep. Just like Thomas. Guess he got tired of waiting,"
and he pressed his face into Brian's jacket and wept.
A week after the funeral, they received a package in the mail. Sat on the bed and opened it. Brian read the accompanying letter.
"Dear Justin and Brian,
I’ve instructed my solicitor to send these things to you. Although the majority of my estate will be sold and the money donated to the AIDS hospice, there were a few items that I wanted you to have. The Turner prints will be sent over separately along with the tea service. I hope you enjoy the CD I’ve sent as much as I have.”
Justin reached in and took out the CD for the soundtrack to The Bridges of Madison County. He pressed his lips together tightly, remembering the afternoon they'd spent together watching the film and how he’d left the apartment humming the beautiful songs, Robert’s words still with him: “This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime.”
"As for the enclosed photographs…" Brian looked over at Justin who removed the silver-framed picture of Sebastian and Thomas from the manila envelope. Continued to read.
"…neither of us had any family and I thought perhaps you could take them out occasionally and think of us so that we're not completely forgotten in the world. And remember, dear boys, be happy, always. Fondly, Sebastian." Placing the letter on the bed, Brian waited for Justin to say something.
Instead of speaking, he positioned the photograph among the others on top of the tall boy. Justin bent his head for a moment and Brian knew that he was crying. Embracing him, he kissed his crown.
Justin half-turned in his arms. "I don't want to be forgotten."
"We won't be. We have Gus and he'll remember us. And them,” Brian said with a smile. “We'll show him the pictures and tell him all about Sebastian and Thomas, and how they fell in love during the war, and came to America, and he'll remember. He won't forget about them.”
“Or us?” he asked.
“Or us. We’ll have a trunk full of pictures. Fifty years’ worth, at
least. And we’ll drag ‘em out whenever Gus and his kids come over and
we’ll drive ‘em crazy.” He and Justin laughed. “I promise. We won't be
forgotten. Not us." He kissed his partner again and whispered, "The
greatest fucking love story ever."
As Johnny Hartman’s voice drifted through the apartment, “We won't
say "Good night" until the last minute/ I'll hold out my hand and my heart
will be in it…” they swayed together, not really dancing, just
holding onto one another, creating memories to cherish, for a lifetime and
“For All We Know,” words by Sam M. Lewis and music by J. Fred Coots