“Shit!” The sound of someone banging against the door jolts Justin awake. Sitting up, he swallows hard, trying to catch his breath. “Fuck…” The banging continues.
Wait.. that’s the back door.. not the front door… that’s the door for this floor, not the gallery… who knows about that door?… His heart racing, Justin swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe they’ll just go away? The knocking persisted. Fuck. Justin was scared. What if it’s Ethan?… fuck.. fuck.. fuck… Biting his thumb, he slowly stands up. Maybe he’ll go away… maybe he’ll think that I’m not home… but wait, he said he had watched me… what the fuck did that mean? Oh God oh God oh God… Sitting back down, Justin feels paralyzed. But maybe it’s just someone delivering stuff for Adrienne?… or maybe it’s Lindsay or Melanie… or one of Adrienne’s friends?… The banging suddenly stopped. They left. Standing back up, Justin cautiously walks out of his bedroom and towards the door. Maybe I can see who it was through the window? Peering through the curtains, Justin strains to see. Where did they go? Biting his lip, he decides to open the door slightly. Unlocking it, he takes a deep breath, and opens the door. No one.. Curious, he opens the door a bit wider.
Suddenly, Brian appears in view, pushing his arm up against the door and resting it against the now opened frame.
“Jesus!” Justin gasps, jumping backwards.
Brian removes his sunglasses, “No, just me," and saunters in, “So this is where you’re living now?” Passing Justin, he scans the apartment, "Well it's not a dump."
Justin stands there, dumbfounded. What the hell just happened? Closing the door, he slowly turns around to find Brian walking towards his bedroom, asking, “You sleep here?”
Following him, Justin demands, “What the fuck are you doing here?” And in my room ?!
Casually sitting on the bed, Brian leans to one side, “Why not?”
He shakes his head, “Are you drunk?” He could smell the alcohol, but he knew that Brian wasn’t the type of person to drive while he was drunk… maybe he’s on something? “Brian, you know better than to drive when you’re under the influence.”
Laughing, Brian falls onto his back against the mattress, under the influence… that little fucker…
Shaking his head, Justin leaves the room, stating, “Let me get you some coffee.”
“No!” he barks, “I am so fuckin’ sick of coffee that tastes like shit.”
Ignoring him, Justin continues to the kitchen, going to make him a cup anyway.
Returning to the bedroom, he finds Brian still lying on the bed. “I told you I didn’t want any.”
Shrugging, Justin puts it down on the table beside him, and goes to sit on the chair against the wall. Brian pretends not to be annoyed, but wonders why in the fuck is he sitting all the way over there?
Looking down at his feet, Justin asks, “So why are you here?” God, that must have sounded pathetic.
Closing his eyes, Brian sighs loudly, “You don’t want me here?”
“No, it’s not that,” he begins, but then stops himself. Fuck. I’m letting him get to me again. “Do what you want, Brian. I don’t care.”
“Really.”
Nodding, Justin forces himself to look Brian in the eyes. “You made your choices, Brian, and so have I.”
Choices? What the fuck choice did I fuckin’ make? “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Shaking his head, Justin looks away, “Never-mind.”
Never-mind. Never the fuck mind. It’s always the same."So," he begins, "Why did you and Mr. Fiddle Fuck break up?”
Startled, Justin turns back in Brian’s direction, not sure if he heard correctly, “Pardon?”
“You and the fiddler. What happened?”
Frowning, Justin announces, “None of your fuckin’ business,” then jumps to his feet in realization. “So this is what it’s all about? You find out that I’m no longer with Ethan, and now suddenly you want to see me?.. What? You want another fuck session? Is that it? You figure I have more free time so we can have another round? Fuck you, Brian!”
Blinking a few times, Brian stares at him. “What the fuck?” He had nothing more to add.
Feeling the tears begin, Justin screams, “Just get the fuck out! I’m not your whore, Brian!”
Sitting up, he shakes his head, more confused than ever, “You’re not a whore, Justin.”
His calmness was unnerving. Justin wanted to break something, “So what the fuck am I to you?! I was some fuck toy to you… a trick! Nothing but a trick!”
“Are you talking about the other week?” Brian was trying hard to figure out where this was coming from.
“Fuck you!” Justin screams louder. He was grateful that Adrienne wasn’t home. He was sure he wouldn't be as bold as he was feeling now if she were.
Brian opens his mouth to say something, but then changes his mind. What in the hell is wrong with him?
Fuming, Justin hurries out of the room and away from Brian's probing questions. He refused to let Brian see him cry. To his dismay however, Brian follows him, “I just asked a question, Justin,” he states simply.
Turning back to face him, Justin begins to tremble, “And I told you it was none of your fuckin’ business.”
Brian nods, “Fine.”
“Fine.”
Satisfied that the show was over, Brian returns to the bedroom, calling out, “You coming back?”
Swallowing, Justin watches him for a few moments. what am I doing?. He follows him with a loud sigh, and sits back down in the chair.
Brian lies against the bed on his side. He has to admit, Justin’s bed is rather comfortable… Stay on target, Kinney. “Justin.”
Looking up, Justin answers softly, “What?”
“I just want to know.”
“It wasn’t working out,” he states, his voice still below a whisper.
“But I thought that’s what you wanted?” He needed to know.
“What was?” Justin’s voice was tired, almost defeated. The screaming earlier had worn him out.
“Flowers, poetry… all that romantic bullshit.” Brian tries to sound nonchalant, but it was hard to pretend that he wasn’t feeling any pain. I just don’t do that shit, Justin..
To Brian’s surprise, Justin’s voice is bitter, “Flowers die, Brian.”
“What?” he didn’t expect that answer. “Then what was the fuckin’ big deal?”
Justin chuckles under his breath, “Of course you wouldn’t get it.”
Sitting up, Brian becomes defensive, “And what is that supposed to fuckin’ mean?” You little shit.
Shaking his head, Justin looks away, “Nothing… exactly what I said. You wouldn’t get it because that’s who you are.”
Brian arches his brow, “You know me that well?”
Smugly, Justin acknowledges, “I know you enough.”
“That’s fucked up.”
He shrugs, looking down at his feet. After a few minutes of silence, Justin finally speaks, “Why do you care?”
Brian shrugs, “I don’t.”
Smiling sadly, Justin looks back at him, whispering, “I know.”
Why did I fuckin’ come here? Brian wanted to get up and leave, but something was holding him back. Maybe it was the bruise on Justin’s cheek, or maybe he just missed bickering with him? He didn’t fuckin’ know what the reason was, but he wasn’t planning on moving off of Justin’s bed. “So you like it here?”
He nods, “Yeah,” he stops to listen to a sound from outside.
Brian strains to hear. What the fuck? After deciding that he heard nothing, and thus there was nothing outside, Brian decides to take the plunge and ask the question that was eating at him, “Did Ethan hit you?”
Startled, Justin looks as if he was just slapped, “What?!”
Brian tries to be casual, though his heart was beating a mile a minute, “The bruise--”
Justin interrupts, the panic in his voice, “I told you: I fuckin’ fell!”
He shakes his head, “Justin, that doesn’t look like a bruise from a ladder.”
“Fuck you!” Justin stammers, “What do you know? And why do you fuckin’ care?”
“I just want to know.” Brian already knew the answer. Just by Justin’s reaction to his question, Brian now knew.
“Fuck off. Actually, get the fuck out,” Justin knew he was going to start crying soon. Standing up, he grabs Brian by the arm, screaming, “Get the fuck out!”
Brian allows Justin to pull him up, but he refuses to budge from the room, “Justin.” His heart was breaking for him. How could this have happened?
“No!” Justin argues, “I don’t want you here. Get out! Now!”
Nodding, Brian begins to walk out of the room, but then stops, “Justin?” Holding back his tears for a little while longer, Justin bites his tongue, waiting. “Why didn’t you come to me?” Justin doesn’t respond. In fact, to Brian, he looks emotionless. He’s shutting down… I taught him that. Fuck. He tries again, “Justin? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Quietly, Justin answers, “Because.”
“Because why?” I could kill that son of a bitch.
Forcing a smile, Justin answers, “Because because, that’s why.”
Brian doesn’t return the smile. “How many times?”
“What?”
He sighs quietly, “How many times did he hit you before you finally left?”
Justin shakes his head, “Fuck you, Brian. You don’t know shit.” He wanted to start bawling right there. I don’t need a hero. I don’t want his pity or any of that shit.
“Did you press charges?”
“Can you just go now?” Justin asks, trying not to sound as if he were begging, though that was how he was beginning to feel.
Instead Brian returned to the bed and sat down, “When was the last time you saw him?”
Justin looks at him, feeling the tears starting to overflow. He refused to let them fall as he looks up at the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Once he was certain his voice wouldn’t waver, Justin says, “Just go.”
“I can’t, I’m drunk,” he lies.
“No you aren’t,” Justin replies, but doesn’t argue.
“Who else knows?” Who did you tell about that asshole, and why didn’t you tell me?
“You’re rather cerebral for a drunk, Brian.”
Brian gives a sarcastic smile. Sighing softly, Justin sits back down on the chair. I don’t need this. He felt as if everything he had worked so hard for had just crumbled at his feet. I didn’t want Brian to know… I had to show him.. I needed to prove to him that I didn’t need him anymore… that I was strong.. independent… fuck. I wanted him to see that I didn’t fuckin’ care anymore… But instead, he could feel Brian watching him. Still holding back the tears, Justin pretends to be interested in the ceiling fan above the bed. He’s probably thinking that I can’t take care of myself. That I always need someone’s help. He looks away bitterly. Why does Brian always have to be the fuckin’ strong one? Just once I would love to see him cry! Just once I’d love for him to ask for help.. to need someone other than himself.
Brian rubs his eyes, he needed another drink, or some poppers. He didn’t care at this moment. I’m going to fuckin’ kill that prick. Looking back up, he can see that Justin is trying hard not to cry. “Hey,” he quietly calls.
Justin moves his eyes in his direction, not saying a word. I don’t want pity.
“Come here,” he whispers, adding, “You look tired.”
Justin shakes his head, “I’m okay.” He could feel his throat beginning to tighten.
“I know,” Brian announces. “But you look tired.”
Smiling softly, Justin knows what Brian is trying to do. He wants to comfort him without admitting it. “Brian, it’s no big deal. I’m okay.” I’m okay.
He nods, “But come here anyway.”
Swallowing, Justin shakes his head again. He doesn’t trust himself to stand: his knees are shaking. Brian stands up and walks over to him, extending his hand, “Come on.. I don’t know about you, but I’m fuckin’ exhausted.”
Forcing a smile, Justin takes Brian’s hand, letting Brian guide him to the bed. Once they are both lying down, Justin turns his body away from Brian, letting the tears finally spill.
Brian knows that Justin is crying. As quiet as Justin is trying to be, Brian could tell. He had always been able to tell. Not saying a word, Brian begins to rub Justin’s back. He hated the fact that someone did this to him, especially someone like Ethan Gold. That little fucker knew exactly how to play him… a few sweet words, a couple of songs.. fuck… everything that Justin wanted.. every fuckin’ thing I refused to give. He felt guilty for not seeing the signs, and for pushing Justin away the way he did All he wanted was to feel like he meant something to me… and I fuckin’ refused and that pissed him off even more. I’m going to fuckin’ kill that bastard.
Leaning in closer, Brian slides one arm under Justin, wrapping it around his waist. He hated hearing Justin cry. After the bashing, each time Justin would cry in his sleep or after a nightmare, Brian felt as if something inside of him self was breaking. He hadn’t heard Justin cry since then. But that didn’t make the reaction any less powerful; to Brian, Justin’s quiet cries were the saddest sounds to reach anyone’s ear. Please stop crying… Turning him around, Brian holds him tightly against his chest. I’m going to kill that asshole.. that shit… I’m going to fuckin’ kill him… He was clenching his jaw so hard that it was starting to hurt. That fuck.
Justin’s sobs slowly diminish. He missed the feeling of being in Brian’s arms. Sucking in his breath, Justin tries to calm himself down. It felt good to cry, but at the same time he didn’t want Brian to think he was weak.
Sliding off of Brian’s chest, Justin continues to lie down beside him, one arm draped over Brian’s torso. He didn’t feel like talking, and he knew Brian wasn’t planning to speak anytime soon either. But I wonder what he’s thinking?.. if he’s disappointed in me… A phone rings in the distance, but neither one moves from the bed. Finally Justin speaks, his voice barely audible, “What time is it?”
“Probably four.”
Justin could hear the exhaustion in Brian’s voice. Today was too long of a day. “A little early to be drinking.”
Brian doesn’t respond. He knew it was early. He just didn’t care. I don’t care about much these days… It was just getting harder and harder for Brian to feel alive these days. How do you know that you’re alive?.. Lindsay told me once.. I forgot.. fuck, it must not have been important.
“Brian?”
“What?”
“When was the last time you were scared?” He doesn’t dare look up. He knew it was best to just stay in the position they were in.
He shrugs, “I don’t remember.” The night after your prom.
“What did you do?”
He shrugs again, “I don’t know, I guess I just went with it.”
“With what?” he asks numbly.
“With what was coming. I dealt with it.”
Justin nods. Closing his eyes, he lets Brian comb back his hair. It’s just easier said than done. “Did you ever…” he sighs slowly, continuing, “blame yourself for something bad happening?”
Brian stops combing Justin’s hair. He knew what he was referring to. “Justin,” he takes his chin, gently making Justin look at him, “it wasn’t your fault.”
Justin’s face is unreadable, but inside Justin is screaming, How do you know? Brian sighs, bringing Justin’s cheek back against his chest, “No one deserves to be hit, Justin. No matter how much the other person makes you feel you deserve it, you don’t.”
He swallows hard; knowing that Brian was speaking from his own experience. “But if someone wasn’t always like that… and then they were… would you--”
Brian cuts him off, “No, Justin, I wouldn’t: because more likely than not, the guy was already like that to begin with. He just knew how to hide it better… after awhile he didn’t feel the need to anymore.”
Frowning, Justin wasn’t sure if Brian was still referring to his own childhood, or if he had already shut that part of history down. More than likely it was the latter.
Sighing, Justin didn’t feel like talking anymore. But he hated the silence. “Tell me a story.”
“A what?” Brian asks, surprised.
Justin smiles softly, nuzzling into Brian’s chest, “A story.”
“Are you going to sleep?”
He nods, repeating, “Tell me a story.”
Brian is dumbfounded, “About what?”
He shrugs, taking Brian’s arms and wrapping them tighter around him. Feeling Brian’s bracelet, he stops and turns to it, touching the shells, “Tell me..,” I wonder.. “tell me the story about your bracelet.”
Brian looks down at it, watching Justin’s fingers trace the shells, “There is no story.”
“Sure there is,” he answers sleepily. “What made you buy it?”
“I don’t remember,” he lies.
“How long have you had it?”
He shrugs, “Awhile.”
Justin smiles, his eyes closed. “Over five years?”
“Yes,” frowning, Brian wonders how he can change the subject.
“More than ten years?”
“Yes, Justin, more than ten years.”
He chuckles softly, “You’ve been wearing that for over ten years?”
“So what?”
Justin shrugs, murmuring as he begins to drift off, “It seems like a long time to be holding on to something.”
“You think so?” Brian tries not to sound defensive.
“Uh-huh,” he mumbles, fighting to stay awake. “Especially since you can’t remember the reason you have for wearing it.”
“I never said that,” he states casually.
Stifling a yawn, Justin asks, “So why do you wear it?”
“It reminds me.”
He chuckles, “Reminds you of what?”
“Of me.”
Frowning, Justin tries to open his eyes, but his lids are too heavy, “Of you?”
He nods, “Yeah. Me.”
He smiles, amused, “Brian, you don’t need a bracelet to remind you of who you are…”
Brian doesn’t say anything, and he starts to think that maybe Justin has fallen asleep, until his voice catches him off-guard, “You make you who you are, not a bracelet… maybe that’s why…” he starts to drift off again.
“Maybe that’s why what, Justin?” he asks with interest.
Murmuring, “Maybe that’s what’s holding you back…”
“From what?” I’m not being held back, what in the fuck is he talking about?”
Justin smiles softly, “And I’m the naive one…”
He frowns, “What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?” But Justin is already fast asleep. Sighing, Brian glances down at him, he doesn’t have the heart to wake him up. He looks back at his bracelet.
If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the cold water rising past his lips. He could still remember the feeling of being lifted up by the waves and tumbling through them until he no longer knew if he was standing or lying down… he remembered letting go… how painless it was to just let go… he remembered how close he was to dying at that moment… until he found himself lying on the sand, coughing up water… the burning feeling in his lungs… and looking up to see him staring at him from above… those eyes…
Ahmed he thought bitterly, …that fuck. He hated him. I hope he’s rotting in hell… with the fuckin’ fiddler. Smiling, he imagines the both of them burning in the flames. If I ever see that fiddler… I’m going to fuckin’ kill him. Justin stirs slightly in his arms. Remembering where he is, Brian nods to himself. This wasn’t the time to think about that. Justin needs his support. Turning his head to the clock on the night table, Brian decides that he could use a short nap himself. He had nowhere to be, and to be honest, he didn’t want to be anywhere but here, on this bed, with Justin.