Picture provided by Susan ____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 3: Brian woke just as Justin was leaving, gingerly stretching his limbs. He had a bitch of a headache; a combination of too much alcohol and a night spent within the confines of the sofa. "You off now?" he asked. "Yeah. You do know what time it is, don't you? Aren't you going into the office today?" and Justin picked up his school bag from behind the desk. He'd decided not to ask Brian why he hadn't come to bed; he'd probably only just trot out some bullshit of an excuse. "Umm, no. I .. I’m gonna get Cynthia to send work over for me to do here. My back still hurts a little ……. I thought I'd give the office a miss for a day or two". Justin frowned; the longer this went on the more he worried. Brian never missed going into the office and would often stay there late to finish something off. "Okay ... I’ve swapped a shift at the diner ... so I won't be back until late". Justin hesitated before leaving. "Brian ... if there's anything you want to talk about, I'm always here for you …… you do know that, don't you?" Brian looked at him. He could see how concerned Justin was and could read in his eyes how hurt he'd been by his recent behaviour and he forced a smile. "It's okay, Justin. It ..… It's something I have to deal with myself ….... nothing for you to worry about". Rather than allay Justin's fears, this only compounded them. Now he knew for sure something was very seriously wrong. “Why does he think he has to do everything on his own, his own way, never asking for help?” thought the blond as he left. After Justin had gone, Brian rang the office and asked Cynthia to send some contracts and prospective accounts over for him to look through, using the excuse of a back injury as the reason for not turning into work. He thanked God she couldn’t see him and only hoped his voice didn’t give away how much his stomach was churning inside. He tuned into early morning TV waiting for the paperwork to arrive, trying to decide between Jerry Springer and Sesame Street; some woman having children with her neighbour’s husband and a couple accusing a man of being a devil worshiper versus Big Bird and Elmo. Elmo won out and, paperwork delivered and with the aid of several cups of strong coffee and painkillers clearing his head and easing his still aching body, Brian set his mind on concentrating enough to go through the work, marking anything to be followed up on and jotting down some ideas for new campaigns. By late afternoon he was able to email Cyn to arrange for more work to come over in the morning and to have collected what he’d already done. He settled back down on the sofa to watch yet more TV, idly surfing through the channels, but not finding anything really worth viewing. He looked at the clock. Justin would probably have started his shift at the diner by now. What was he going to do when he came home? Christ, he needed a drink. Just after 9:30, he went to bed, taking his drink with him. Justin would probably be back around 10:00 and Brian hoped to be asleep when he arrived. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin couldn’t help but worry about him all day, only just able to push him out of his mind enough to finish the assignments he'd been given. Luckily, he had everything with him and had completed the work in the study room, before going on to start his shift at the diner, but returning home just after 10:00, he'd been surprised to find the loft in darkness and Brian already in bed. Quickly, he undressed and went over to him. Brian lay on his side and facing away. He still had on joggers and a tee and quietly, Justin pulled back the sheet and climbed in; he could smell the alcohol Brian had consumed earlier. Brian turned a little further away from him, now lying almost on the very edge of the bed, leaving Justin staring at his back. Justin lay down and looked up at the ceiling, listening to Brian's breathing. He couldn't be sure, but he didn't even think the man was asleep, only pretending. He turned on his side and they lay back-to-back, a yard apart. And Justin couldn't stop the tears from falling as he cried silently into the pillow. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tuesday morning, Brian was up and in the shower before Justin was awake. He was working from home again today, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before Cynthia or Ryder needed to see him for something. He would have to speak to Cyn and ask her to cancel a couple of his meetings or arrange for someone to replace him and was sure she would start to ask questions about how long he thought it would be before he could come in. He was just getting out of the shower stall when Justin walked into the bathroom, yawning and scratching his back. “Don’t you ever knock?” snapped Brian. “What? Since when do we knock to come in the bathroom? Come to that ... when did we ever close the door?” “We do now”, and Brian wrapped the towel around his waist and walked back out into the bedroom, quickly grabbing a fresh tee from the drawer. The marks on his back and the bruise to his ribs were starting to fade, but he didn’t want to risk Justin seeing them. Justin followed him, “Brian, how long is this going on for?” and he put his arm out to touch him. “Don’t”. Brian whirled round on him, pushing him away, practically knocking him over. “Fuck, Brian. What did you do that for? I was only trying to help”. Justin was shocked at Brian’s reaction. This was the second time he’d pushed him away when he’d tried to touch him, but this time he’d used more force. “I don’t need your fucking help. Now get ready and go to school and leave ….. me .…… alone”. “Don’t worry …... I’m going”, and Justin slid the bathroom door shut behind him, showering quickly and then dressing and leaving the loft without speaking to Brian again. He had free time before class today and was putting in an extra shift at the diner. At this rate, he would soon need the money. He didn’t think it would be long before Brian told him not to come back at all. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There was always a busy breakfast trade at the diner and today was no exception; Debbie and Justin were rushed off their feet. “Hey, I asked for over easy”, said the guy in the corner booth, as Justin put the plate down in front of him. “No you didn’t”, challenged Justin. “Yes, I fucking did”, said the guy. “Excuse me ... is there a problem over here?” asked Debbie, coming to see what the fuss was all about. “He’s given me the wrong breakfast”, said the guy. “No I haven’t”, insisted Justin, but Debbie wasn’t so sure. She’d been watching him since he came in and this wasn’t the first order that had been sent back because he’d written it down wrong or had just mixed the orders up. “Justin ... take 10, honey”. “But Debbie ..…” Debbie just gave him one of her looks. “Okay ... okay”, and he went to sit on a stool at the end of the counter. “Sir, if you’re happy to keep that order ... I’ll knock off the price of the eggs ... is it a deal?” “Sure, why not?” Good, that was settled. Everyone having been served with their meals, Debbie went behind the counter and poured Justin and herself a cup of coffee. “Okay, what’s he done this time?” she asked, placing the cup in front of him. Justin didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. “Debbie, I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. .. he won’t let me near him and freaks when I touch him. He keeps avoiding me …… sleeping on the sofa or he’s in bed pretending to be asleep when I get home”. “He yelled at me this morning because I walked in on him in the bathroom. We never close the fucking bathroom door ... he just says he’s hurt his back.” “All I know is he won’t tell me what’s really wrong … he’s shutting me out. I must have done something to really make him mad at me, but he won’t tell me what it is. I’m just scared he’s going to turn round and say he doesn’t want me there any more”. Debbie could hear his voice shaking and see the tears welling up in his eyes and walked around the counter to be beside him; putting her arm around his shoulders. “Hey, Sunshine, you know Brian ….. when has he ever been any different? He’ll tell you what’s going on, but not until he’s good and ready. You’ve just gotta hang in there. Whatever it is ... I’m sure it’ll come right. You wait and see”. But from what Justin was saying, she wasn’t so sure. Jeez, it sure didn’t sound like Brian; normally, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Brian-fucking-Kinney ….. when was he ever going to learn? This kid was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him (well, apart from her Michael that is, but that relationship never went beyond friendship) and now he was in danger of throwing everything he had with Justin away. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Brian had dressed in a clean tee and a pair of old, worn jeans. He was still a little sore, but it was easing and he could move around more freely and his breathing no longer hurt like it did. Thankfully, there wasn’t any evidence of more serious injury. He’d tried looking at the work Cynthia had sent over for him, but it wasn’t easy; he still felt guilty about how he’d treated Justin this morning. He hadn’t meant to snap at him and push him away like that. It wasn’t really Justin he was angry at, but himself for everything that had happened and he wondered why the blond put up with him. And, every now and again, when he thought he’d got his mind on the task in hand, suddenly and unexpectedly, Brian had a vision of himself coming back into the loft with the trick: the sudden shock of the blow to the stomach or of seeing the flash of the switchblade as it was held against his face. And he would break into a cold sweat, struggling to bring his breathing back under control, determined not to give in to the panic attack that threatened to overwhelm him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Justin found him sitting on the sofa, watching TV and with a drink in his hand when he came in, after picking up some groceries on his way home. Brian hardly ever watched TV other than the odd movie and to see him spend so much time like this was another warning bell going off in Justin’s head. He also couldn't help but notice that Brian seemed to be drinking even more than usual. “What’s all this?” asked Brian, seeing the bags Justin brought in with him. “I thought I’d get a few things in and make dinner tonight, instead of take-out”, he replied, but Brian just nodded vaguely in agreement. “Go back to your show ... I’ll call you when it’s ready”. With their meal in the oven, Justin had some time to kill. He’d been thinking about this all day and decided he couldn’t put it off any longer. “Brian .… about this morning …….” “I didn’t mean to push you”. “What are you keeping from me? What aren’t you telling me? Is it me ….. have I done something?” Justin sat down on the sofa close to him, but Brian only stood up and moved away. “Justin ... for Chrissakes ... can’t you leave things alone? I’ve got stuff going on right now and I don’t need you interfering. Do you understand?” “I’m not interfering ... I wanna help ... but you won’t let me". "You’re shutting me out…..” and Justin walked over to him, putting his arm around his waist. “Don’t touch me!” Brian pushed him away, again. “Brian, please ..….”, Justin jumped as the glass hit the wall, shattering into a dozen pieces. “I’m going out ... where are my keys ... where are my fucking keys?” Brian realised the last time he’d seen them was when he’d let himself and the trick into the loft. “They’re on the counter”, Justin’s voice was trembling as Brian searched amongst the shopping that had yet to be put away in order to find his keys. He had to get away from Justin, he felt stifled. He’d been cooped up in the loft now for days and needed some air, and Brian looked around for his jacket. Where the fuck was that? “I hung it in the closet before ….. it was on the floor when I came in…..” and Justin was shaking. He’d never seen Brian this angry, storming back into the bedroom in order to collect his jacket and now heading for the door. Feeling totally rejected and not just a little scared by Brian’s actions, Justin called after him. “Where are you going? You haven’t been outside for days and now you’re just walking out?” But his words fell on deaf ears and Brian was already halfway down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. The noise of the traffic hit him as soon as he opened the door to the street and suddenly, he felt vulnerable away from the protection of the loft and quickly made for the car. Brian sat inside for a few moments, trying to get himself together. "What the fuck am I doing? Where the hell am I going?" But he had to get away from Justin for now, so he started the engine and drove off. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hours later, after driving round town aimlessly, he realised where he was now heading and he pulled the car up outside Debbie’s. The house was dark and he looked at the clock on the dash; he hadn’t realised it had got this late. Then he noticed a faint light from an upstairs window; Debbie’s bedroom. She must still be awake. He wasn’t sure why he’d come here, but then Debbie had always been more of a Mother to him than his own during his childhood: cleaning up countless bloody noses and cut lips, feeding him and putting him to bed when things had got rough at his own house. And he needed to understand what was happening to him. Of course he’d heard about guys being raped before, but had always considered it more of a female issue. So if anyone could help him make any sense of it at all, then most likely, Debbie could. Slowly, he climbed the steps to the front door and rang the bell. It took a few moments, but then he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and the curtain opened and Debbie looked out to see who was there. She smiled and opened the door, gathering her robe around her. “Brian? Hello, honey ... if you’re looking for Michael, he’s not here”. “I wasn’t looking for Michael. I know it’s kinda late, but I .. I was hoping I could talk to you. Are you on your own?” he asked as she stood back to let him in. “Yeah, I’m on my own. Vic’s putting in some hours down at the hospice tonight, so he won’t be home for ages ... come on in.” And she led Brian into the kitchen and picked up the kettle from the stove. “Can I get you anything ….. herbal tea ….. coffee?” “No, I’m fine thanks, Deb”, Brian answered her and so she put the kettle back down. “Well ... sit down. What did you want to see me about?” Brian sat at the table and Debbie sat down beside him. She studied him. She could see what Justin was talking about. He looked troubled, pale and his hands were shaking slightly. When he didn’t answer her, Debbie spoke again. “Brian ... what’s wrong honey? Has something happened?” Brian nodded and smiled briefly. “You’re probably going to say it’s not surprising ... given my lifestyle ... that something like this hasn’t happened before”. Debbie’s stomach lurched and she remembered how Justin had said Brian wouldn’t allow him to touch him. “Sweetie ... are you ill? Is it………?” Brian looked at her quickly and shook his head. “No ... no it’s not that”. Debbie was visibly relieved. Her brother, Vic, was HIV positive and this was the first thing that had come to mind. Brian took a deep breath and Debbie’s heart went out to him. Whatever it was that had happened, it must have been something pretty devastating to leave him in this mess. “I .... I took someone home the other night …… someone I didn’t know. He …..” Brian struggled for the words. If he hadn’t been so obviously upset, Debbie would probably have said something like “Well, nothing new there then”, but she stopped herself; now was not the time for frivolous remarks. “It’s okay, honey”, she said quietly instead. “Take as long as you need”. Brian swallowed. His mouth was dry and his voice was breaking as he spoke. “He had a knife. I thought ..… I thought he was going to kill me. He tied me down and beat me”. Debbie’s hand flew up to her throat, waiting for him to continue. The tears that had been threatening finally brimmed over as Brian spoke. “He raped me”, he said quietly. To be continued.