Last night I had a dream about you
In this dream I'm dancing right beside you
And it looked like everyone was having fun
the kind of feeling I've waited so long
Remembering
When he finally remembered that night, it wasn’t at all how he imagined it would be. He’d fantasized about it for so long that he was sure that if he ever did remember that night, it would be wonderful. He’d be with Brian, and they’d hear that song playing in a store, and it would come back to him. He’d remember, and Brian would be so happy, and it would magically fix all of their problems. Finally, they’d be together, and they’d kiss and Brian would hold him, and everything would be perfect. It would be euphoric.
Instead, he woke up at 3 AM, alone in his apartment in
He sat up in bed, panting, sweating, heart racing, as the images flew by. Brian had danced with him. It had been beautiful. It had been perfect. It had been the best night of his life. He’d been so happy. He’d been so perfectly happy.
He barely found his way to the bathroom in time and threw up everything he’d eaten that day, until his stomach was empty and he was dry heaving.
His head throbbed. His stomach ached. Every muscle in his body hurt.
He cried.
When the panic attack passed, he found enough strength to go back into his tiny bedroom and pick up the phone.
“Yes?” Brian sounded aggravated. It was late, even for him, for a weeknight.
Justin suddenly realized that he had no idea what to say. So he just sat there, breathing heavily, still trembling slightly, mind racing. He had no idea how to tell him. And how could he? They’d barely spoken in three months.
“Justin?” Now he sounded worried.
“Sorry,” Justin mumbled. “I just… I shouldn’t… fuck.” He tried to laugh but it came out choked and sad.
“Did something happen?” Brian asked, and Justin could tell that he was sitting up in bed and probably reaching for a cigarette.
Justin shut his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before responding. He had to keep himself under control. The only reason he’d called Brian was because he’d needed to hear his voice, he’d needed to tell him. It was selfish. The least he could do was sound calm while he did it.
“I remembered,” he said.
There was a long silence, and Justin felt his eyes sting again with new tears. Fuck, he hated panic attacks. He hadn’t had one, not a full blown one in so long, that he’d forgotten how much he hated them. Now he remembered.
“Are you alright?” Brian finally asked. His voice was rough, and now he didn’t just sound worried, he sounded like he was panicking, too.
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have… it’s late, I shouldn’t have called you,” Justin mumbled, shutting his eyes and rubbing them hard.
“Fuck that, are you alright?!” Brian demanded.
“I’m…” Justin exhaled slowly again, his chest shaking. “I feel like shit.”
There was another pause, and suddenly Justin couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “It was the best night of my life,” he said, feeling more tears roll down his face. “Fuck,” he muttered, squeezing the phone hard, shaking his head. “It was everything. If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t forgotten, then we-“
“No regrets,” Brian said, interrupting him. His voice was rough, but gentle. It just made Justin cry harder.
“I fucked everything up,” he said. “I didn’t remember in time. It’s too late. I just fucked up. Why the fuck did I have to remember now? Why did I have to remember now that it’s too late?!”
“Justin,” Brian began, but he was cut off immediately.
“I’d rather have never remembered! What good is it going to do me now?! To know what I had and threw away OVER and fucking OVER again?! All it does is show me what I lost! What I can’t HAVE!”
“Shut up,” Brian snapped. “Listen to me. Are you listening?”
Justin sniffled hard and blew his nose into some tissues from the box next to his bed. “I’m listening,” he mumbled.
Brian’s voice softened again, and now he sounded almost… affectionate. “You haven’t thrown anything away. The past is the past, and you can’t regret what you’ve done. It’s over.” There was a short pause, and Justin could hear Brian sigh before continuing. “And who said there’s anything you can’t have?”
“You! You haven’t said it in words, but you’ve shown it! You’ve barely spoken to me since I left. You don’t return my calls. You don’t email me. When we speak, you’re distant and awkward. Fuck, Brian, it’s me. It’s just me.” Justin ran a hand through his own hair roughly. “I know I’m just a scared, pathetic little faggot, but right now, I don’t care. I need you. I can’t do this without you. I can’t fucking live in this fucking city and not know if I can ever come home, or if you’re going to push me away and forget about me before I can! And I can’t remember this, and not have you tell me it’s okay, and that you love me. I need you to tell me you love me!”
Justin held his breath, trembling, staring down at the floor as he waited for Brian’s response.
Finally, a minute later, came the reply.
“I love you.”
Justin let out the breath he’d been holding, and felt his body relax slightly. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“I’ll be there in four hours.”
“What?” Justin asked weakly. He was exhausted. He was sore. He was dizzy. He was ready to pass out, but his heart was racing too fast for him to even think about lying down.
“Through the magic of the internet, I’m currently purchasing the tickets. If I leave in fifteen minutes for the airport, I should arrive at what I presume is a filthy shit-hole apartment in four hours.”
Justin shook his head, eyes shut tightly. “Brian, don’t-“
“You just said you need me.”
“I do,” Justin replied weakly.
“I’ll always be there when you need me, Justin,” Brian said softly.
Justin slowly lay back down on the bed and opened his eyes. He could see Brian face as he ran towards him, just before the bat swung. “I know.”