Justin: Hey
Justin: Please answer
Justin: I need help
Justin: Can I stay at your place tonight?
Justin: I'm serious its bad
Justin: Jess! Pls answer!
Justin: Answer me please
Justin: Jess
Read 11:25 pm
Justin stared at his phone screen for what felt like an eternity. He swore under his breath and threw more clothes into his duffel bag. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to focus on packing as quickly as possible. Justin could hear Seth getting agitated in the living room. His cheekbone still throbbed where his mom's deadbeat boyfriend had hit him. Justin picked up his phone and tried calling Jess. If she read his texts, that meant she was awake. That meant she would probably answer him… right? The line rung and rung and eventually went to voicemail. Justin cursed and typed in Zach's number.
Justin: Hey Zach you awake?
Justin: Come on dude
Justin: Can I come over?
Justin: Zach
Justin: Answer pls
Justin: Things are bad I need help
Justin: please man
Justin: I need you
Read 11:37 pm
"Fuck you!" Justin hissed under his breath, holding back tears. He sank down to the ground, holding his duffel bag against his chest. Fuck this. Justin heard his doorknob rattle and lept across the room to sit in front of the door, keeping it shut.
"Open the door, you little shit!" Seth grunted from the other side.
"Fuck off! You don't even live here." Justin shouted. Seth yelled out indiscernible swear words from the other side, his face pressed against the crack between the frame and the door itself. He heard his mother's voice drift towards him from farther away, calm and indifferent as ever.
"Go get a beer. I'll talk to him." She said. Justin's racing heart settled. Maybe this would be the day his mom finally prioritized him. Perhaps she would stand up for him and kick her asshole boyfriend out for good. Justin heard Seth say something he couldn't quite make out before his steps receded. Then the sound of Jerry Springer started blaring out of the television. Justin strained his ears for his mother's voice, that promised conversation, but it never came. She'd probably already taken her seat in front of the TV.
Justin had texted everyone, to no avail. He should've been used to that by now, but nevertheless it still hurt. No one liked needy Justin. People liked athletic, charismatic, arrogant Justin that appeared at parties or in the hallways. That Justin would smile big, crack jokes, and be the just the right amount of fucked up that he made the people around him feel better about themselves. When he was that guy, people could easily forget all the bad shit he'd done. "He's a cool dude", they'd say, "He's my best friend". But whenever Justin needed them, he got nothing but read receipts. The only exception was Bryce. Bryce, the asshole extraordinaire, was the only one that gave a shit. Really makes you think, huh?
So that's where Justin ended up, yet again. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been in this situation. When he was a kid, he'd show up to school with no lunch, unwashed hair, and bruises on his arms. Next thing he knew, Bryce's parents were taking him in, buying him new clothes and school supplies until things leveled out back home. When Justin was ten, he once made the mistake of asking Bryce if his family would adopt him. Bryce just gave him a sad, condescending smile. Justin had never asked anything like that again. This time, it was hardly any different. Barely anything had changed since he was six years old. Justin had to swallow down the lump of shame that had grown in his throat before knocking on Bryce's door, adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder.
"Oh. Hey, Justin." Bryce said, leaning against the doorframe. He was eating one of those mini ice cream containers, licking the chocolate dessert off a spoon. "'Sup?"
Justin's jaw clenched and he adjusted the bag again, unable to look Bryce in the eyes. It was like he was asking just to force Justin to say it out loud. After all these years, Bryce knew exactly what was happening. Justin thought he probably just liked hearing him say it.
"My - uh... I can't stay at home tonight. Can I crash here?" Justin asked. He shivered in his letterman jacket and thin sweater and shifted from foot to foot.
"I dunno, man… My parents aren't home, and-"
"C'mon, Bryce. Don't fuck with me." Justin hated how his voice sounded, hoarse and desperate. He couldn't deal with Bryce's little mind games today.
"I guess you could, sure. If you asked nicely." Bryce shot him a shit-eating grin and Justin clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might splinter. Bryce changed his body position so he blocked almost the entire doorway.
"Fuck… Seriously?" Justin shook his head and sighed before meeting Bryce's eyes. "Bryce. Can I please stay in the pool house tonight?" He said, enunciating.
"Yeah, man. Anytime." Bryce said, breaking into an arrogant smile and slinging an arm around Justin's thin shoulders. He closed the door with his foot.
"Nice shiner, bro." Bryce said.
"Fuck off." Replied Justin. Bryce laughed.
Bryce's pool house was practically Justin's second home now. Most of the stuff in here was his, or had been given to him by the Walkers. Justin's water bong was exactly where he'd left it last and he made a beeline for it as soon as the door shut behind him. He heard Bryce chuckle but decided he didn't give a shit. Justin rummaged around the drawers for some weed and his grinder.
"Not wasting any time, huh, buddy?" Asked Bryce, his arrogant smile glued in place. He flung himself on the couch where Justin usually slept. The Walkers' maid, Marita, had put a pile of folded blankets on the coffee table and Bryce pushed them off to prop his feet up in their place. Justin didn't feel like replying. All he wanted was to get high and forget about all the shit with his mom and Seth and Jessica and… fuck… Everything. Justin shrugged off his jacket and packed the weed into the bowl, lighting it almost immediately, inhaling and watching the smoke dance up the neck of the glassware. He took out the bowl and sucked the vapour in quickly, savouring the sudden tightness in his throat.
"I bet you'd slow down if you were the one paying for it." Bryce said. Justin froze, lighter in hand. He felt the familiar stab of humiliation in his chest.
"I think I have some cash in my bag…" Justin rummaged around the duffel, even though he knew full well there was no money in there.
"Don't worry about it, dude." Bryce said. To anyone else, this would have sounded like a nice thing to say, from one friend to another. But Justin knew the full implications of their arrangement. He quickly took another hit from the bong. Maybe Bryce would get bored tonight and just leave him alone. Maybe if he wasted enough time…
"Jesus. You look like shit, buddy." Bryce said. Justin made a noise between a laugh and a scoff. "I'm serious." Bryce Walker, ever the concerned friend.
"Just… Haven't slept in a while. I dunno. Why do you care?" Justin said with a shrug. He knew his eyes must be bloodshot beyond belief at this point. He reminded himself to get eye drops in the near future.
Justin opened the fridge. It was empty except for a few beers, just like back home. He tried to hide his disappointment.
"You hungry?" Bryce asked. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have gotten Marita to get you some stuff. Especially with how much you smoke, like c'mon, you can't have an empty fridge, amiright!" Bryce clapped Justin on the back, pushing him towards the main house. Justin didn't object. His stomach had been growling since yesterday. Nevertheless, he'd never liked the main house. In the pool house, the utter affluence of the Walkers could be covered up by spreading Justin's stuff around and removing some of the decor. But in the main house, Bryce's family's wealth was shoved in Justin's face. His whole apartment could fit in their kitchen, probably with room to spare. And still, the Walkers' kitchen would be worth more. Ever since he was a kid, Justin had felt like he shouldn't touch anything in here. He would probably decrease its value just by looking at it.
"I can ask Marita to make you something."
"Nah. Leftovers are fine." Justin said. Bryce raised his eyebrows at him and Justin realized that 'leftovers' probably weren't a thing in the Walker household. There it was again, that awkward feeling of being somewhere you really didn't belong; like how Jensen would probably feel at a party.
Bryce set a plate in front of him and Justin didn't even look at what was on it, just shoveled it in his mouth like it would disappear any second. Bryce watched with a mixture of amazement and amusement. He waited until Justin was done before cracking a laugh.
"Alright, then. Smoked up before coming, too?" Bryce asked. Justin had a nagging feeling that Bryce knew this wasn't the case, but was happy enough to blame everything on weed.
"Maybe a little." Justin lied with a small, dry laugh. Bryce wrapped an arm around his friend's neck, laughing.
"Dude, you're an animal!" Bryce said. Justin nodded and chuckled uncomfortably. Bryce's arm lingered near his neck and Justin's skin started crawling. Get out , he imagined his body telling him. As usual, he ignored it.
"I could use a drink. You want a drink?" Bryce said, pointing a finger at Justin and inclining his head towards the living room.
"Uh, Bryce… I'm actually really tired. I've been trying to find a place to crash all night and last night, my mom-"
"Oh, come on! One drink! Don't be a pussy, Foley." Bryce said, leading Justin into the living room. Justin hesitated before sitting on the expensive-looking couch, checking his jeans for dirt. Bryce handed him a crystal drinking tumbler nearly filled with brown liquid. Justin turned it in his hands before catching Bryce's expectant eye and taking a sip. It was straight hard liquor, as expected. And Bryce had only an inch in his glass, again, as expected. Justin fought back the urge to run out the door and sleep on the street tonight. Perhaps if he broke into the school, crashed in the boys' locker room…
"Justin, you okay?" Bryce asked, taking the seat next to him on the couch. Justin exhaled slowly.
"Just… thinking 'bout shit."
"Well, you're here now, so forget about it." Bryce put a finger under Justin's drink, encouraging him to gulp down more. He groaned as it burned its way down his throat. Bryce let his hand fall down on Justin's thigh.
"Dude! What the fuck?" Justin said, springing sideways. Some of his drink spilled on the couch so he took another gulp to make sure that was less likely to happen again.
"What? Relax, man. It was an accident."
"I said I'm tired tonight, okay? So… I just wanna…" Justin struggled with his words, turning the fancy tumbler in his hands. He wanted to throw it, see it smash in expensive pieces on the expensive floor, wasting expensive whiskey.
"No problem." Bryce said with a shrug. Justin relaxed slightly. "Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight, then? It's way more comfortable than the pool house couch." Justin must have shot him a look, because Bryce quickly added, "I'd be sleeping in my parent's room, of course. I'm just saying that if you're really tired tonight and want to sleep or whatever, you'd sleep better in my bed." Bryce shrugged like it was nothing, like Justin didn't know exactly what he was playing at. Justin balled and unballed his fists, his mind working quickly, trying to find the right way to say no. He knew this game. He'd fallen into this trap before.
"All my stuff's in the pool house." Was his pathetic excuse.
"It's not that far." Bryce waved his hand dismissively. "What do you say? Finish your drink and then I'll show you where to go." Justin downed the drink, feeling warmth spread across his chest. He didn't protest when Bryce led him up the stairs, though it was completely unnecessary. Justin had been upstairs many times before.
It was easy for Justin to pretend he was drunker than he was, the mixture of the weed and whiskey making him sway slowly on the steps. This way, he didn't have to think so much. Bryce was giddy like a schoolgirl, positively beaming at the prospect of getting some action tonight, even at his supposed best friend's expense. Justin could almost feel the excitement pulsing through Bryce's hand, which rested on the small of his back.
"'S gay, dude." Justin said, moving the hand. Bryce chuckled and put it right back where it had been. Shit. It was gonna be that kind of a night. Justin felt like he was going to be sick. Bryce pushed open the door to his lavish bedroom. Justin fought the jealousy that raced through him like wildfire. What he wouldn't give to have a room like this, in a house like this, with parents that weren't alcoholic assholes or criminals, and… Justin sat on Bryce's bed, looking at the trophies on his wall. He wondered if Bryce's dad had clapped him on the back after he won it, told him how proud Bryce had made him. His parents probably took him out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate afterwards. Fuck those trophies. Justin wanted to throw those, too.
Bryce sat down next to Justin, his hand moving from his back to his thigh. This time Justin did nothing but absorb the shudder that ran through his body, masking it with a sigh. Bryce's hand moved in small, circular motions, making its way slowly up Justin's leg, closer and closer to its mark.
"Bryce, can you just…" Justin started, clenching his jaw. Bryce hummed, but only moved closer. Justin wrenched himself away and pushed back against Bryce's chest.
"Come on, man! I'm not feeling it, okay." Justin rubbed his eyes, which were stinging slightly from the weed. He was also thinking about Jess. He couldn't do this to her… not again. Every time anything happened between he and Bryce, it haunted Justin for days, leaving him unable to satisfy his own girlfriend. She deserved better than that.
Bryce's eyes were kind, but underneath, they pulsed with desire and child-like self-assurance. He put a hand on Justin's arm.
"What's yours is mine, remember?" Bryce said quietly. There was that degrading fucking saying again. Justin swallowed hard, fighting the tremor growing in his chin. He nodded and ran a ratty sweater sleeve over his face. Bryce put his other hand on Justin's opposite arm and squeezed lightly. Justin had to admit it felt good to be touched. It felt so fucking good.
Bryce pushed him onto the bed as strongly as he could get away with, his eyes growing hungrier by the second. The arrogant smile came back as he started unbuckling his pants.
"Hey, hey. What're you doing?" Justin asked. Bryce made a shushing sound and got on the bed next to Justin.
"Don't act surprised, Foley. You want it." Bryce said. He sounded like a disappointed father, and that shut Justin up.
"Whatever." He whispered as Bryce finished unbuckling and pulled his jeans down a few inches. Justin shoved his thoughts in the back of his head and went to reach for Bryce's already-erect cock. The sooner it started, the sooner it would be over.
"Uh-uh. We're gonna try something different this time." Bryce said in a sickly-sweet voice, like he was addressing a volatile toddler.
"Fine." Justin said with a shrug. How accommodating, he could practically hear Bryce thinking. Justin picked at the bedcovers, unable to find a loose string to fiddle with. Self-hatred was rising in his throat like bile. Something different . That was how this whole thing had started. But Justin couldn't back out now, not now that Bryce was the only one who wouldn't turn him down. He ground his teeth together and wished Bryce would just get on with it.
Bryce reached for Justin's jeans this time, making quick work of them before Justin could protest.
"Why're you-"
"Jesus. Relax, it's fine." Bryce said. He pushed Justin down into the mattress so that his face was on one of Bryce's pillows. The sudden smell of Bryce's cologne was overwhelming and Justin started pulling back. He chuckled uncomfortably.
"Hey, hey, Bryce. I'm-"
"Just chill, man." Bryce reassured, placing a warm hand on the back of Justin's neck, pressing his thumb into the hollow at the base of his skull. Justin couldn't keep in the sigh that escaped his lips. He could just imagine the self-satisfied smirk playing on Bryce's lips. It suddenly made him sick.
"Okay, I'm not kidding, get off." Justin said, pushing against Bryce. He just laughed. It was an okay-I'm-a-football-player-good-fucking-luck-fighting-me-off sort of laugh. It only made Justin angrier.
"Fuck you, man! What's wrong with you?" Justin protested. The hand on the back of his neck tightened. It was a clear reminder: You owe me .
"You wanna sleep out on the street when you get kicked out from now on?" Bryce asked, faking concern. His mouth was so close to Justin's ear that he felt the heat of the bigger boy's breath on the side of his face. Justin exhaled shakily.
"No." He admitted, quiet and ashamed.
"So do you want me to keep going?" Asked Bryce. Justin swallowed as best as he could and closed his eyes.
"Yeah." He choked.
"There we go." Was Bryce's condescending response. He knew Justin would eventually agree. He always did. Always would.
Justin could hear Bryce stroking himself and spitting into his palm. Goddammit, he should have taken another hit. Justin wasn't nearly drunk or high enough for this. He remembered how Jess had freaked out the first time they did anal. Was that what was happening? Was Bryce gonna fuck him? The dread hit him like a truck, but he'd known, deep down, that this was coming. All the little favours like giving Bryce head or a hand job in return for weed or a place to stay, they all lead up to this.
Bryce didn't bother with preparation, just slathered his dick with spit one more time and eased his way in, spreading Justin's cheeks with both hands. Justin was surprised by how much it hurt. He cried out, pressing his face farther into the pillow. Bryce let out a dry chuckle and thrust deeper. Justin screamed louder this time. This wasn't pleasure, this was pain. Why the fuck do gay guys like this? Bryce started thrusting repeatedly, the pace increasing alongside his breathing. Justin felt himself harden, though he couldn't quite figure out why. As Bryce's thrusts grew deeper and more violent, Justin buried his face into the pillow, wishing it smelled like anything but Bryce.
"Oh, man… That's nice. Fuck… You're so fucking tight." Bryce panted. Justin felt like he was going to hurl. It sounded like a bad porno, Bryce heaving and huffing into Justin's ear, grunting out cliches like 'you're so tight'.
Justin felt like he was being split in half from behind. He bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out, but every thrust caused his teeth to snap together so hard they drew blood. He could taste it. It tasted like humilation and self-hatred. What's yours is mine . Justin almost wept. When the fuck had this become his life? Bryce's panting grew shallower and louder as he climaxed, one of his hands burying itself in Justin's hair, pulling his head back. Bryce's cock grew limp and left a trail of cum that cooled quickly in the air as soon as he removed himself from Justin's hole. Justin's ass was freezing and kept clenching and unclenching, adjusting to the sudden lack of an alien presence. Bryce let out a long sigh.
"God. That would probably have been more enjoyable if you weren't high out of your fucking mind." Bryce said, wiping himself off with a towel. Justin still couldn't move.
"Are you fucking serious?" Justin's voice cracked. He had found it miles from enjoyable .
"Yeah. Maybe lay off next time." Bryce said with a wink. Next time. Justin cleaned himself up and lay back on the pillows, his mind drifting as far as he could get it to. His erection had thankfully disappeared. "You okay?" Bryce asked.
Justin couldn't look at his so-called friend. He couldn't make his mouth form the lie. It just wasn't happening. He shook his head slowly and pulled his pants back up.
"I've heard it gets better the second time." Bryce said with a shrug. It was as if someone was scooping out Justin's insides, hollowing him out and leaving a cold, empty void. He stared at Bryce's ceiling, wishing it would collapse from the weight of all these expensive lamps and crush them both. How could he not tell? How could Bryce not tell that Justin had fucking hated it? Or did he know and just not give a shit? Justin sat up and tucked his knees up against his chest, ignoring the quick stab of pain in his backside. Bryce smiled at him and Justin wanted to punch him that smile off his fucking face. Justin wiped blood off his chin with his sleeve.
"You did good." Bryce said reassuringly, rubbing circles into Justin's back. Fuck you , he thought, but damn it felt good to have someone touch him like that, just… kindly. Lately, Jess had been distant, angry, distracted or all of the above. Justin hated himself for accepting affection from anyone that was offering it, but his body was acting for itself. He found himself leaning into Bryce's hand, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth spreading through his back. Bryce was saying something, but Justin had zoned out. He stared at his feet and rumpled Bryce's covers with his toes. Maybe he was still a little high.
Bryce eventually got up, leaving a distinct coldness on the places he had been touching just seconds earlier. He stood staring at Justin. He made an overexaggerated clicking noise with his tongue.
"So… you gonna go back to the pool house…?" Bryce asked, raising his eyebrows. Justin wasn't going to give him to pleasure of seeing him angry, surprised, disappointed, or hurt or any of the emotions that should have been coursing through his body. He expected this much. He knew who he was dealing with. He'd long stopped expecting better.
"Yeah." Justin got up and stalked out the door, feeling dirty and violated. How had everything gone so wrong? Fuck Jessica. Fuck Zach. They should have answered their fucking phones, Justin thought angrily. He stomped down the stairs, wishing he could stomp hard enough to break some shit. He'd make it look like an accident, of course, he couldn't afford being labelled a 'trouble kid' at yet another friend's house. Every time something like this happened, he promised himself he'd never come back, that Bryce didn't really give a shit about him. But he always came back, because there was nowhere else to go.
Justin slammed the pool house door behind him and lay on the couch amidst a pile of blankets. He wished Jess was here. He wished they could hold each other and he could whisper in her ear and hear her laugh and then maybe everything would be okay. He sent her a few texts, but got no reply. Justin set up his bong again and took another hit. Fuck Bryce . He set the bong down and lay back, letting the high catch up to him.
He could still smell Bryce's cologne. It was in his hair. Justin went to the bathroom and turned the shower on, scalding hot. Bryce's pool house had one of those fancy showers with crazy water pressure. Justin let it burn his back and sting the sensitive skin on his scalp. He scrubbed himself over and over before giving up and sinking to the floor of the shower, letting the hot water pound away at his head and back. He was done. So fucking done. Justin punched the ceramic wall of the shower, just to feel the pain stab through his knuckles. He couldn't hold it in anymore. He cried. He cried that wet, angry, uncontrollable cry that only comes when your whole life has gone to shit. Justin pressed him palms into his eyes and then his temples, trying to relieve some of the pounding in his head. His whole body shook and not even the warmth and pressure of the shower could console him. He leaned his head against his knees and felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. Justin had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. Bryce was the only one left. He held all the cards. Justin was entirely at his mercy.
Except fuck that. Fuck Bryce and how he thought the whole world and everything in it belonged to him. What's yours is mine. Bullshit it was. Justin knew Bryce was wrong. He knew he should've done more that night when Jessica... No. Justin wouldn't be back. He'd given Bryce Walker enough. Justin didn't care if he had nowhere to stay and had to wander around town all night and nap during class. He'd do that before coming back here again. Bryce had pushed him too far and Justin finally wouldn't put up with it anymore. He didn't care that he was alone; that no one in the world gave a shit about him... On second thought, maybe it bothered him a little... Or a lot... Or it made him feel like he should just do the whole universe a favor and check out.
Justin turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel. He pulled on his boxers and a T-shirt but lost energy for anything else and collapsed onto the couch. Justin wanted to fucking die. He wouldn't leave some fucked-up tapes about it, he'd just do it. Here one day, gone the next. Either with a gun, or some of his mom's pills. He wouldn't tell anyone, not even Jess. He'd tell her he loved her, nothing more. No one would remember him as being a great guy. Justin knew he was nothing but their token 'fucked-up' friend, the one they'd all hate if they didn't pity.
Hannah Baker's suicide had thrown the whole town into chaos. The death of Justin Foley wouldn't faze anyone at all.