Brian Kinney walked seemingly aimlessly through the men’s apparel section of the clothing store. Lindsay, who was pushing his son in a stroller, was close behind him.

"Oh, I think that’s so adorable that he asked you," Lindsay said. "Despite the somewhat questionable difference in your ages and the fact that emotionally he’s twelve years your senior."

Brian continued his light stroll, looking for nothing in particular.

"Not going; too old."

Why had he even told Lindsay in the first place? Oh yes, it was so adorable that Justin had asked Brian to attend his prom as his date. At first Brian had thought that the teenager was making a joke. Or maybe he had heard him wrong. A few moments later he had realized the sincerity of Justin’s statement and had of course refused.

"Oh so you’re thirty I know it’s so traumatic but it is something we all go through, if you’re lucky enough to live that long," Lindsay continued. "But to carry on like it’s the end of your life?"

"It is," Brian said bluntly.

Lindsay came up closer to him and placed her arm on his shoulder.

"It’s the beginning. A whole new way of thinking about yourself. Feeling a whole new sense of entitlement . . . and accomplishment."

Brian suddenly turned to face her. After a moment, a slight, knowing grin broke out on his face.

"That’s from the "La Jeunesse" anti-aging commercial," he said looking closely at her face. "I wrote that fucking copy!"

With the grin still on his face he sauntered away and left Lindsay to fully absorb her embarrassment.

"Oh, okay, well I guess I only quote from the masters," she said as she gave a little nervous laugh and walked over to where Brian was now standing, pushing Gus along with her. "But it’s the truth. I want wrinkles. I wanna have gray hair. I want Gus to make me a grandmother. I wanna grow old with Melanie."

Brian looked at her with a blank expression, his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit.

"Do you want me to puke? Right here?" he asked sarcastically. "I don’t want gray hair and wrinkles. I don’t want to be a grandfather. And I definitely don’t want to grow old with – Melanie. Or anyone else."

Brian had paused slightly as his eyes discovered a nearby mannequin dressed sharply in a black tuxedo with a long scarf made of white satin around the plastic neck.

"What do you want?"

Brian reached out and removed the scarf from the synthetic throat and ran it through his fingers.

"This," he simply stated.

"Very beautiful," Lindsay responded.

Gracefully, Brian swung the scarf behind his head and felt the softness at the nape of his neck.

"You know, maybe you’re right," he admitted. "Maybe I should celebrate turning thirty."

As he spoke, Brian began to tie the fine cloth into a knot around his neck.

"Give myself something very special."

Brian turned towards Lindsay who reached up to loosen the knot that Brian had made at the base of his slender neck.

"Now you’re talkin’," she said with a smile.

The two said their good-byes to one another and after Brian kissed Gus gently on the forehead Lindsay left him alone with his selection. As Brian walked up to the cash register he found that his mind wandered to Justin. The look in the young man’s eyes as he’d invited him, amid the colorful maelstrom that was Babylon, was something that Brian had never seen before. It was something of a mix between adoration and desire. For a moment, Brian wanted to say "yes". However, reality soon kicked in and he sarcastically questioned Justin’s sanity.

"Just this sir?"

Brian’s recollection faded away and the face of a lovely young woman came into focus.

"Yes," Brian answered. "Just this."

The woman smiled and ran up the price.

"Would you like it gift wrapped, sir?"

Brian thought for a moment. Why the hell not?

"Sure."

She flashed him another bright smile and retrieved a white box and black ribbon from under the counter. Brian watched as her swift and delicate hands folded the scarf and placed it in the box before securing it with the ribbon. When she finished, Brian paid her in cash and, talking the box under his arm, exited the store.

As soon as Brian returned to his loft, the only thing he felt like doing was taking a shower. He placed the gift-wrapped box on his coffee table and walked into his spacious bathroom. Turning the water on, he removed his jacket, tie and shirt. His shoes, socks and pants soon followed. As the warm water caressed his body he was unable to contain a moan of pleasure. He let the warmth cleanse him, flowing through his hair and down his slender body. For a moment his mind was void of all thought. Lucid. After a long while, he shook the water from his hair and reached for a nearby towel. After drying off, Brian pulled on a disguarded pair of black jeans. Walking slowly out into the main room of the loft he located a box of matches and lit the numerous candles scattered around the area. After bathing the room in the warm, golden glow of the slight flames, he went to his box atop of the dresser and removed three joints.

Brian placed them down on his table next to a few candles and retrieved a bottle of scotch and a glass before he lay down on his side adjacent to the coffee table. The small decorative box was gazing at him with its forlorn appearance. Slowly, Brian picked up one of the joints and after placing it between his lips, picked up a candle and ignited it bringing the tip of the cylinder to an amber glow. Inhaling slowly he savored the rush then reached for his scotch, pouring himself a glass and then swallowing it. He struggled to keep his mind clear but found that again his thoughts drifted.

He was a thirty-year-old-man. Three decades of his life gone. 10,950 days behind him. 262,800 un-redeemable hours vanished, never to be brought back. He took a longer, deeper drag from the joint and looked at the small box to his right. With an almost childlike curiosity he reached for it and removed the smooth black ribbon. Upon removing the top he found the silky white mass neatly folded. Letting his hands run over it the angelic collection of fabric, he unfolded the scarf and pulled it from the box. With a look of curiosity he wrapped it loosely around his throat and used it to shield his face. The satin felt undeniably good against his recently cleaned skin and soon he found himself standing, running the softness across his belly.

Then, upon giving himself over to abandonment and influenced by the drug running through his system, he commenced to do a dance of sorts around the loft. At times swinging the scarf in front of him and other times bringing it back around his shoulders so that when he released it, it slowly circled down the length of his body in the manner of a graceful dragon. Suddenly, his eyes gazed upward and soon after Brian flung the scarf up at the rafters. When it came fluttering back down to him, he tried again. Once more the satin mass returned to him and he again struggled to seemingly relieve himself of it. When it fell into his hands for a third time he was unfazed and threw it up yet again. The scarf caught itself and remained suspended in the air for a few moments before it came back down to Brian who now stood smiling

Standing on top of a nearby chair, he secured the scarf around one of the rafters before he pulled the remaining length around his neck. From his pocket he pulled a popper out and quickly snorted it into his left nostril. It had an immediate effect on him and Brian’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and upon closing his lids, they began a dance of rampant movement. In a drug-induced haze his right hand found the zipper of his jeans. A few moments of mindless fumbling and he’d freed his growing erection from the tight confines of the dark denim. Never before had he experienced anything like the rush that was now assaulting him. The soft fabric suspending him slightly off the chair, his hand giving him pleasure with rhythmic precision, the drugs running through his system. He could feel himself coming closer to a great release when his clouded ears picked up the sound his door sliding open.

Through his blurry vision, he spied his best friend quickly running up to him and stepping on the chair, reaching up and struggling to loosen the beautiful noose. It wasn’t until he went slamming to the floor, bringing an abrupt and painful end to his arousal, that he was able to acknowledge his friend. Lying on his stomach, he turned his head and looked at Michael lying on his back where he’d fallen after releasing him. Unable to comprehend what had just taken place, he laughed several times in disbelief.

"Fuck you," he said to him in a bland tone.

"Fuck you!" Michael yelled back at him.

Brian held in a gasp of pain and slightly raised his hips in order to pull his pants back up around his waist.

"Asshole!" he addressed to Michael.

Not put off by the insult, Michael roughly questioned him.

"What the fuck where you doing?"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brian responded sarcastically.

"I came here to see why you didn’t come to my farewell party."

"What party?" Brian questioned honestly as he rose to his knees slowly.

"You know goddamn well," Michael said loudly. "Everybody was there but you."

"Oh right, David and Michael’s farewell in flannel."

Brian pulled himself to his feet and zipped and buttoned his jeans.

"Well I was having a little celebration of my own in honor of my big 3-0," Brian added.

"With this?" Michael questioned holding up the scarf like some disgusting beast.

"Yeah," Brian responded. "Giving myself a very special gift."

"Like what?" Michael asked as Brian grabbed the scarf from him.

"Like the greatest fucking orgasm of my life," he answered loudly pulling the scarf tight around his shoulders.

"Try the last fucking orgasm of your life, you could kill yourself!" Michael protested, yanking the scarf away from him again.

"Well that wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen," Brian explained in a voice that scared Michael in its seriousness as he regained possession of the satin. "To go out in a blaze of glory like Cobain, James Dean, Hendrix – they’re all legends – they’ll always be young and they’ll always be beautiful."

"And they’ll always be dead," Michael said in a stern voice.

"Life not worth living if you not take risk," Brian responded with a brief smile.

Michael shook his head.

"You’re not going through with it."

"If I wanna experience the joys of scarfing," Brian began. "What the hell business is it of yours?"

"It’s my business ‘cause I’m the one who’ll get the call that the goddamn cleaning lady’s found you hanging from the rafters with a fuckin’ boner!"

Brian laughed again and drew Michael towards him to rest their foreheads together.

"Fuck you, Michael, fuck you. Why do you always have to ruin everything?"

"Ruin?" Michael questioned. "I’m saving you! Just like Toby Harper saved Captain Astro in issue 231 of Astro comics when Captain Astro thought that he’d lost all of his superpower."

Brian rolled his eyes and sighed.

"God, you are so pathetic," he said.

"No, YOU ARE!" Michael spat back. "Don’t you know that you still have your powers, all your powers, and you always will. Whether you’re eighteen or you’re thirty or you’re fifty or you’re a hundred! You will always be young and you will always be beautiful. You’re Brian Kinney for fuck’s sake!"

Michael frantically grabbed the side of his friend’s face in his hands and pulled his lips to his. He pulled back only to take a breath and then connected their mouths again. When he pulled away for the second time he wrapped his arms tightly around him and felt the weight of Brian’s head on his shoulder.

Once he was convinced that Brian was not going to attempt his stunt again, Michael left him to return to the home that he and David shared. There was a lot of thinking that he had to do. Lounging on his back on the sofa, Brian continued to run the scarf through his hands. The drugs had eased off a little and his mind was clearer. He was almost annoyed when he began to think of Justin again. It was truly preposterous, absurd, insane, to ponder on it. He couldn’t go for God’s sake. He was a thirty-year-old-man. Still, there was something in him that would not let this matter rest. Perhaps he should go. What was the worst that could happen, they’d throw him out? And although he would not admit it to himself, there was a secret part of Brian Kinney that wanted only to see the reaction on Justin’s face when he strolled in.

With that, it was decided.

Brian stood and went to his closet. He selected a black dress shirt, leaving the top buttons undone to expose the skin of his chest, a black jacket with a deep purple lapel and matching dress pants and shoes. Running his fingers through his hair he inspected the finished product in the mirror. Upon gaining approval, he headed towards the door but abruptly stopped. Walking back, he picked the white scarf up from the place he’d flung it, swung it around his shoulders, and headed out to his jeep.

part II
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