A/N: For Rory. I hope I made it in time *hugs* Kiss me alright Chapter 27 – Kiss me alright – Part I Tell them it’s me who made you sad Tell them the fairytale gone bad “You know…” Blake said while he stroked his fingers gently through blond hair. “It makes me sad too, when you cry.” His words weren’t accusing or meant to make the young man feel guilty. They were the truth and all Blake could think of, as he looked at the red, puffy face; blank blue eyes staring at a random point on the white wall. For hours and hours. Not caring about pudding for dessert or Good Night Greetings on channel 4. “I wish you would eat something.” The nurse glanced at the untouched plate on the nightstand. Dark rye bread, blue cheese and red beet. “Brian would want you to eat something.” Justin’s eyes flickered for a second, almost unnoticeably. Or maybe Blake just imagined it. He took the food with him thirty minutes later, when he left room 4.11. Leaving his patient alone and knew his absence wouldn’t make a difference. --------------- Brian stood silently behind the mirrored glass doors in his living room, with both hands in the pockets of his jeans; staring outside. It was funny. No matter how much water disappeared… the pool was still blue. He wondered if he could tile the basin in a different color. Orange maybe… He heard himself huff a quiet laugh and felt his lips twitch at the same time. It was irritating and he fought against it immediately. The phone rang twice, somewhere in the background, and the machine answered the call. ´Hey Brian, it’s Ben. You never showed up for our appointment today. I have the books I wanted to give you. Please call me.´ Brian took one hand out of his pocket, went to his desk, deleted Ben’s message along with the four calls from Michael and the message a certain Blake had left earlier, and made his way upstairs. He closed the blinds and the bedroom door, to shut out every glimpse of daylight, before he crawled onto his mattress and the crinkled sheets that he would never change again. It was nice to lie in complete darkness. Fake darkness. Fake darkness with a fake image in front of his eyes, of two men lying together in a big, comfortable prince bed, watching smoke rings. He turned around and buried his nose in an expensive down filled pillow. At least the unique sweet scent in here was real… --------------- “Sweetheart…I-” Mommy tried to smile and stroked his blond hair. She had wet eyes. He wanted to give her a tissue. “Jen. Let’s go.” Daddy stood in the doorframe. A green door. A room on the left side of the corridor. Mommy turned to him, wiping her eyes. “Craig!” She sounded sad. Justin looked up to the ceiling and touched her cheek with three clumsy fingers. Mommy took them in her warm hand, kissing them softly. “Nurse Emma will look after you.” “Yes.” “Here.” She tried to smile again and handed him a present, wrapped in blue paper. “Why don’t you go sit on the bed and look what’s inside?” “Yes.” Justin swayed a bit back and forth. He liked presents. Mommy sobbed quietly, covering her mouth with her hand and leaned close to kiss his forehead. “I love you.” Wonderful whispering words in his ear. She got up and went to the door, and when she turned around to look at him, she was waving with her beautiful, gentle fingers. “Yeah.” Justin really would’ve preferred to go downstairs where the silver car-vehicle stood to… “…be with mommy.” “You can’t.” Her lips quivered and her words were quiet and quiet and made Justin’s belly hurt. “You’re not…alright.” “Yeah.” Justin looked at the wall. It was all blurry. And Daddy laid his arm around Mommy’s shoulders and they were gone. Forever and ever and hundred years. “Yes.” When Justin’s eyes opened his cheeks were wet and he felt warm all over and really would’ve preferred to have his… “…book.” A little awkwardly he sat up in a kneeling position, pushed the damp strands out off his forehead and reached under the pillow. It felt good in his fingers. All heavy and smooth and when he opened it up on page 22, it smelled like mommy. “Yes.” He hiccupped a sob and a water droplet fell on the word ´danced´. His lips quivered and he looked over to the window and the darkness outside and really wanted to be with Prian and read for him and lie under the warm blanket like an icicle. “Hhh!” He bent forward to press his nose hard against one of the book pages and he wailed loudly and didn’t like the sound in his own ears. “Of… of course!” He hiccupped again and rocked back and forth strongly. “Of course not alright!” His voice was shrieking and a couple of stiff fingers cramped up in long, blond hairs and tugged and pulled and he screamed again until the thick wall door opened and the room was filled with bright lights and loud voices. “Justin!” A nurse looked at him, holding firmly onto his wrist. It wasn’t Plake and Justin kicked with his foot and did it again and then there was a bite in his arm and everything smelled like syringe water and poisoned apples when his eyes fell shut, heavy like grey stones. -------------------- On Thursday the 12th, Doctor Cameron said Justin had a cold and couldn’t sit at the window anymore because people with fever were supposed to rest in bed. Justin told him to fuck off and fought against the brown evil vines until his arms and legs were too tired to move. On Friday the 13th, Plake had a cold wash cloth and placed it on Justin’s forehead. It felt good and Justin closed his eyes. He dreamt of pears and butterflies. On Saturday the 14th, came nurse Schmidt to check Justin’s blood pressure and temperature and wanted to know if Justin felt a little better. Justin pretended to sleep and sleep until the heavy wall door was closed again. -------------------- When Brian Kinney came home from work on late Saturday afternoon, a young blond man waited in Brighton’s courtyard. Brian got out of the car and slammed the door shut. “Go.” Blake pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. “I thought we could talk.” “There is nothing to talk about.” Brian marched towards the front door and rummaged for his keys. Blake followed him. “He’s not well. He has a cold.” Brian shot him an artificial smile. “Well I’m sure Misses Schmidt knows how to make a good cup of tea.” He stepped into his house and tried to close the door. Blake stopped him with his hand in the doorframe and a serious face. “Brian please. He’s been terribly upset for almost a week now. He won’t eat, he won’t talk, he won’t leave his room.” He looked at the other man pleadingly. “At least tell me what happened, so I can try to help him.” Brian stared back. His jaw clenched tightly. “Please. What happened between the two of you?” Brian’s eyes flickered for a brief moment, showing something that might have been dismay. But then, he glanced at the floor and had a cold mask of aloofness firmly in place when he looked up again. “Believe me. You don’t want to know.” The door was shut and Blake stood there for six minutes, facing a big, fancy fir wreath, before he finally turned around and made his way to the next bus stop. ------------------- It was Monday, December the 16th, when maid Emmett Honeycutt entered the stained glass door of ward 4 and made his way towards the nurse’s station. “Helloo-o?” He knocked at the big pane. “Yes?” Blake appeared, seeming a little surprised. “May I help you?” “You certainly may.” Emmett told him in his best sultry voice. No one had told him what tasty little morsels the St. James’ staff were. “See, I wanted to give this to a friend of mine.” He presented a brown paper bag. “Justin Taylor.” Blake looked at the man silently for a moment. “You’re his friend?” “Well, technically,” Emmett gestured, “I’m the friend of his friend, but this friend couldn’t come himself and so he asked me.” He smiled and swayed his hip to the left. “I’m the envoy.” “I see.” Blake smiled back and nodded. “Well, Justin is asleep at the moment. Maybe you could come back in the afternoon?” “Oh, I’m afraid that would interfere with my spinning class.” He placed his fingertips on Blake’s shoulder. “And my new trainer… who is a total and major hottie … doesn’t appreciate tardiness. So,” He pushed the bag into Blake’s arms. “Why don’t you give it to him for me when he’s awake?” “Ah…sure.” The nurse wrinkled his forehead. “But maybe you want to leave a note with your present?” “Well, it’s not so much a present.” Emmett confessed and then whispered discreetly. “Actually it’s his pyjamas. They were in the laundry when he left, and now that they’re all fresh and dry, his ´friend´,” he made quotation marks with his fingers. “Wants him to have them back.” He sighed. “Believe me. It’s complicated.” Blake drew his lips inwards. “Am I guessing right that we’re talking about Brian here?” “I’m not allowed to share this information.” Emmett zip-locked his lips. “And if I did,” he lifted his right eyebrow in Blake’s direction and whispered again. “You can be sure that Brian would kill me.” Blake’s face showed a smile, although his lips weren’t really involved. He nodded, hugging the paper bag to his chest. “Thank you. I will give it to him.” The little smile Emmett gave in return seemed sad. “I’ve packed a couple of his favourite cookies, too. Tell my baby, I’ve baked them especially for him, okay?” He pressed his lips tightly together and turned to leave. Blake stopped him after nine steps. “Justin misses him.” Emmett didn’t turn around and his tone held nothing of his normal flamboyancy. “And he is a mess without Justin. But he will never come back.” --------------------- Justin lay on his side on the bed, singing quietly and watching his hands on the pillow. “K-E-double L-O-double good…Kellogg's…” He sighed when he knotted his fingers together. “Kellogg’s best to you.” He wished he could hold hands with Prian. “Hey frog.” The thick wall door opened and Plake entered the room. Justin closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, but sang his little song anyway. “Wow.” Blake fetched a chair, placed it in front of Justin’s bed and sat down, so he could face the boy. “Patient Taylor is really clever. He can sing even though he’s asleep.” “K-E-double…” Justin pressed his eyes tighter together and rubbed his nose clumsily. “…double L-O.” Blake sighed loudly and made sure to make a lot of noise when he opened the paper bag on his lap. “Well, it’s a pity he’s asleep though. I guess I’ll have to eat all these cinnamon stars by myself now.” He rustled with the plastic wrapping of the cookies, took one out and stuck it between his lips with a long, “Mmmmh.” Justin blinked when he opened his eyes. Plake sat in front of his white bed and he had a big bag and lots of cookies. He licked his lips nervously when the nurse chewed appreciatively. “Oh you woke up.” Blake smiled friendly. “That’s good, because someone brought this for you.” “Yes.” Justin looked up at the ceiling. He really wanted to have one of the terrific cinnamon stars. They looked of course like… “…garbage…garbage cookies.” “Garbage?” Blake inspected one of the cookies more closely. “They look like really tasty cinnamon stars to me.” He took another bite. “Brian sent them for you, along with your pyjamas.” Justin blinked again when Plake reached inside the brown bag and pulled his dark blue pyjamas out. They weren’t wet anymore. “Here.” Blake put them down on the mattress next to the boy. Justin touched them with two fingers. They were dry and soft and smelled beautifully like… “…Prian.” “Yes.” Blake smiled slightly. “He wanted you to have them back.” He watched Justin silently for a moment. “You know, I saw him the other day. I think he misses you a lot.” “Yeah.” “You think he’ll come to visit you here again?” “Yeah.” Justin’s eyes flickered from the pyjama up to the ceiling, where they stayed blankly. “Certainly not.” Blake’s voice was low and gentle. “Why not?” Justin turned his head towards the window. He liked the dancing snow flakes. “Of course he can’t.” “He can’t?” “Yes.” Because Justin wasn’t alright. But he didn’t want to say that. It hurt his ears. -------------------- On Thursday the 19th, Brian entered Woody’s at 8.25 p.m. and cursed very rudely when he spotted the young, blond man at the bar. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” “Having a beer?” Blake raised his bottle and showed a little smile. “Same as you, I take it.” “Think again.” grumbled Mister Kinney and sat down on the free chair beside Blake, before he called to the barkeeper. “Double Jim Beam.” A glass was placed in front of him, he downed it immediately and ordered another one. “So,” he looked at Blake but not very friendly. “What do you want? Plake.” Blake smirked. “Nothing special, Prian. I just felt like drinking a couple of beers.” “Hh.” Brian drank his second glass and sat there in silence for almost six minutes, before he spoke again. “Is he doing better?” It was a quiet question. “Not really.” Blake rubbed with his fingers over the cool droplets that ran down the neck of his bottle. “His fever is down though.” “Hm.” Brian drew his lips inwards. “Is he eating again?” “Not much.” Blake shrugged. “But he ate all the cookies your messenger boy brought the other day.” Brian wrinkled his forehead and finally looked at the other man directly. “Emmett brought him cookies?” Blake returned the look. “Yes. Pyjamas and cinnamon stars.” “Hff.” Brian ordered a beer and drank a big gulp. “Fucking servant. I told him not to feed the brat that garbage.” Blake smiled. “Well he seems to like that garbage.” “I know.” Brian stared down at the wet spot on the bar and touched it with his forefinger. “Brian, I-” Blake started and was interrupted when Brian grabbed his beer and got up. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Okay.” Blake followed him towards the men’s room. “But would you at least listen? Please?” “Would you stop following me?” Brian shot back and almost slammed the toilet’s door into the other man’s face. “I have to piss!” “Okay I’ll wait here.” Blake confirmed and positioned himself right beside the doorframe. Brian grumbled something unfriendly, handed Blake his beer and disappeared. When he came back out two minutes later, and reached for his bottle, Blake refused to give it back. “I really want to talk to you. Can we go somewhere more private?” “I already told you,” Brian took the bottle roughly out of Blake’s fingers, spilling some beer on the floor. “There is nothing to talk about.” He walked away. Blake followed again. “He thinks you’re never coming back.” Brian sipped at his beer. “He is a bright boy.” “You would never believe how sad he is!” “Well, that’s life.” “Brian, please! I know you care about him! Why are you acting like-” Brian spun around, shouting at the younger man furiously. “What the fuck do you want me to do?! There is nothing I can do for him, okay?! So leave me the fuck alone!” Blake was calm when he looked directly into Brian’s eyes. “You’re right. There is nothing you can do. But he lives with his deficiency. Why can’t you at least try and do the same?” “I’m not talking about any deficiencies.” Brian shook his head and went back towards the bar to sit down again. “Hell, I have more of them than he ever will.” Blake took the seat right beside him. “Then what?” Brian looked him straight in the eye, speaking loud and angry again. “He’s fucking unhappy, okay?! He hates that rat hole he has to live in and there is nothing I can do about it! Not a damn thing!” Blake didn’t even flinch. “Have you tried?” “Tried what?” Brian spoke against the brim of his bottle, before downing half of the content. “Have you tried to change his situation for the better? There are other possibilities for him. Maybe assisted living.” Brian snorted. “Oh yes, and where would that be? At my beautiful castle?” Blake didn’t join the humour. “Why not? Of course you’d have to employ a nurse and provide regular therapy lessons.” Brian snorted again and shook his head. “Yeah that would be great, huh? The knight in shining armour, ready to save the poor little ill boy. But you know what?” He turned to Blake. “I’m not the noble, big-hearted, generous benefactor.” He took another sip of his beer. “You’re mistaking me for fucking Batman.” “No.” Blake’s voice was soft and calm. “I’m sure Batman was in love with a big cat in black latex… not an eighteen year old with autism.” Brian’s face was blank when he threw a couple of dollar bills on the bar and got up from his chair. “You wouldn’t be so keen for me to take care of him if you knew me.” He took his jacket and disappeared out of the door with long strides. Blake caught up with him 10 minutes later, on the roadside, where Brian searched in his jacket for his car keys. “I thought you could give me a lift.” Blake stopped with his hands in his pockets. “Yeah right. I had twice as much as you.” Brian finally found his keys and opened the door of his jeep. “True, but I thought you would spare me the cab fare.” Blake smiled. “I’m a little short this month.” “Did you even listen when I was talking about this noble-generosity thing and how it’s non-existent in my world?!” Brian climbed behind the wheel and shot the other man a highly annoyed look, but leaned over to unlock the passenger door without any real resistance. Blake jogged around the car and jumped in with a big grin. “Thanks man, that’s great.” “Hh.” Brian grumbled and started the engine. Fucking Tower people. All short and blond and clingy… They drove in silence for a while, before Blake decided to re-start the conversation. “You know, there are relationships of this kind.” Brian changed gears. „What kind?“ „Oh you know… between people with autism and people like you.“ “Like me.” „Yeah. People of unimpaired mental faculties.“ Brian huffed a laugh. “You really don’t know me…” “I’m just saying it’s possible. It’s difficult but it can work. I’ve seen it.” „Hh.“ Brian glanced in the rear-view mirror. „Well I don’t do relationships. Difficult or otherwise.“ Twelve minutes later the black jeep stopped in front of an old apartment building. “Is this it?” Brian glanced through the front window. “Yeah. Nothing fancy. But it’s cheap and clean.” “Hm.” “Brian?” Blake unbuckled his seat belt and paused with his fingers on the door handle. “What?” Brian sounded annoyed. “You kissed him, didn’t you?” And Brian stared at the dashboard clock without seeing the time. Then he turned his head to look at Blake. Calm and serious. “You know I did more.” “I figured.” Blake shrugged slightly. “Does it … make him happy?” And Brian felt his face light up although he didn’t really smile. A little maybe. His eyes did. He bit his lip. Blake smiled back. “That’s special, you know? That you’re able to touch him.” “I should be.” Brian looked back at the dashboard. His tank was almost empty. “I’m his prince.” “Hm.” Blake opened the door. “Then do something because I hate to see him cry.” Brian looked over at him, wordlessly, with an unreadable expression. “Thanks for the lift. Have a good night.” Blake showed one last smile before he left the car and disappeared behind an old, grey door. --------------------- It was 11.04 p.m. when Brian knocked not too gently at Dr. Bruckner’s house door. “Brian?” It was Michael who opened, with a sleepy face and dressed in a dark green checkered robe. He rubbed his left eye and yawned. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong? I’ve tried to call you but-” “Is Ben here?” Michael frowned deeply. “Yeah, sure. He’s-” “I need to talk to him.” “But he’s already in bed. What’s the matter anyw-” “It’s important.” “I’m sure it can wait till-” Michael was interrupted by a large hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, Michael.” Ben closed the belt of his robe, looking at the man in the doorframe. “Why don’t you go to bed and I’ll be right there.” He kissed Michael blindly on the temple, before he addressed Brian. “Please come in.” Michael looked up at his boyfriend, clear disapproval in his eyes. And he glanced at Brian briefly and nodded slightly, before disappearing into the bedroom. Brian looked at the floor when he stepped in. He closed the door quietly and reached into his jacket. “Can I smoke?” “No. But I can make you a tea or some coffee.” Brian passed the couch, walked over to the windows and stared out in the darkness. “Water.” Ben came back a minute later with two glasses of water and placed them both on the coffee table in front of the sofa, before he sat down. “So, Brian, what do I-” Brian didn’t turn around. “Why is he at St. James.” Ben furrowed his brows and blinked his eyes then. “Well…” “He told me he was in Harrisburg before he came here.” Brian stated and eventually looked at the other man, even though he held his place near the windows. “Is that where his family lives?” Ben inhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead. “Brian, you know I’m not allowed to share this kind of information. Justin is my patient.” Brian only stared at him. Ben smiled slightly. “No. His family lives in Delmont.” Brian nodded and looked away. “So he lived in an institution in Harrisburg, too.” “Yes. Since he was four or five.” “What the fuck for?” Brian’s face showed anger all of sudden, his hands restless. “He’s not severely disabled. Why can’t he live with his parents?!” Ben seemed to think about it and looked almost apologetic when he met Brian’s eyes again. “It’s not easy to live with autistic people, Brian. Many parents are unable to cope with it. It’s often for the best if they give their children into professional care.” Brian sniffed through his nose, his lips shifting, when he turned to look out of the window again. He squinted his eyes although it was dark. “So in other words, his parents didn’t want an abnormal kid and dumped him off in some asylum for second rate humans.” “Brian.” Ben shook his head, pausing a moment. “Why are you here? It’s almost midnight.” Brian leaned his forehead against the window pane and closed his eyes, not saying anything for a long time. When he did eventually, his voice was low. “Did you ever read fairy tales when you were a kid?” “Yes. I had a book from my grandfather. I liked them.” Brian placed his fingertips on the pane, pushing lightly, while he gazed at the falling snow under one of the street lamps. “Well, I say they’re all bullshit.” ------------------- On Friday the 20th, it was rabbit stew, white bread and Brussels sprouts for lunch. Justin was hungry and ate half of what was on the plate, before he stuck all of his bread into the cup with apple juice and watched as it got soggy and wet, white pulp. He really wanted to go for a walk with Prian to look at the grey shit brew and all of the scary birds and the hard, blue gum. “Yes.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Certainly not eat…not eat everything. Prian says.” He blinked. He wanted to put his ice fingers in the prince’s warm jacket pocket too. *Scruuush* “Hh!” Justin grew stiff instantly when a loud scraping sound was to be heard. *scrush* It wasn’t in the tower room. *scruuush* It was outside. On the street. “Yes.” His eyes flickered nervously and he didn’t know if he liked it, but after a moment, he got up and padded with small steps and one extended finger in his hair, over to his window. *scruuush* “Of course.” Justin rocked back and forth on his feet. “Hello… hello there neighbour.” Outside, in front of the prince castle was the servant with a thick, orange jacket, blue mittens and a big shovel, and he scratched it loudly over the floor and pushed all the beautiful Christmas snow onto a huge pile next to one of the gatepost in Pritin’s courtyard. Justin didn’t know why. But he liked the servant so much and had to giggle a bit and pressed his nose against the cold pane. After three minutes, the snow pile was big like a mountain and the servant wiped his hand over his forehead and leaned tiredly with his arms and chin onto the handle of the shovel. Hm. “Yes.” Justin scratched his ear. Maybe the servant wanted to sleep. But the servant’s eyes didn’t close. They wandered around a little bored and after a while looked straight up towards one of the upper tower windows. He stared a few seconds and finally waved happily and smiled and said something. Justin didn’t hear the words but his belly fluttered nicely and his heart thumped in his chest. He smiled back, feeling shy and excited. And then there was a big ´thud´ and a big snow ball hit the window pane. Justin jerked back, startled, his eyes wide. “Yes.” Of course now his tower window was full with snow and all white. He placed his palm on the white-snow spot and watched as it fell off again, piece by piece, until the plate was clear. He peeked out timidly. The servant was still there. But the big shovel now leaned against one of the gate posts. “Yes.” Justin’s eyes flickered to the wall for a minute and then back down. Of course the servant had a very big snow ball now and rolled it over the ground. It grew bigger and bigger and the servant grinned up at him and waved some more. Justin didn’t smile back. He wasn’t sure if he liked the huge ball of snow. Certainly it would be very loud if it hit his tower window. ------------------ A black Jeep pulled into the courtyard a little after four o’clock in the afternoon, an angry man in Armani clothing jumping out. “What the fuck?!” Brian trudged out of the open gate onto the sidewalk, lifting his legs extra high, to avoid any damage on his Italian leather shoes, and stared with a mixture of disbelief and disdain at the 3 feet high abomination, standing on the curb side. “Shit…” And it wasn’t only the ugliest snowman the world had ever seen… it was also his servant’s fucking death sentence. ------------------ Justin dreamed of ice and snow and big, white polar bears and felt a little funny when he woke up. He still sat at the window and his face was all cold, like the pane he was leaning against. Something bit his neck and he rubbed the back of his hand clumsily over his heavy eyes when he gazed outside. The sky was darker now, not one snowflake fell out of the grey clouds and on the other side of the street, right in front of the castle, stood the wonderful white ball-man, the servant had built earlier. Complete with orange carrot nose, brown cone eyes, a smiling, green sprig mouth and a big piece of blue cardboard in it’s snowy hands, saying, ´Hello Justin´. Justin smiled. And then, he whimpered and felt a stream of liquid hotness flashing through his chest, as he saw his prince. Without a horse, or crown, or silvery sword, but in a lovely black coat, with soft brown hair and a gleaming fire stick between his long fingers. Standing next to the ball-snow man and looking at him. Up at his tower window, with one of his hands in his pocket and the most beautiful expression on his face that Justin could ever imagine. Justin leaned his forehead against the pane and lay his palms flat on the glass, wailing in a small voice, when Prian took a long drag from his little fire stick one last time and stuck it then into the snowman’s green sprig mouth. And then he turned around and smiled at Justin. And Justin felt so warm and wanted to fly out of the grey tower and all the way across the street… …and when the prince was gone and the sun was too and no one could see fire stick smoking snow ball men anymore… he cried only quietly behind his window pane, because he was Prian’s brave boy. --------------------