"It was one stupid mistake!" Ethan cried. "Look how many times you forgave Brian!"
It just shot out of his mouth, "I never forgave Brian," but now that it was out he knew it was true. It made everything seem so much clearer. "I never had to. Because he never promised me anything. You did."
He removed the ring almost as a last minute thought; he would have just tossed it in the street when he realized he was still wearing it later, but what did it matter anyway? Calm began to fill him, covering up the hurt, until Ethan grabbed his arm a little too hard. He pulled away.
"I need you! I don't know what I'm going to do without you!" It didn't even sound real anymore; how could he ever have listened to Ethan say shit like that?
"Oh I'm sure you'll manage. You still have your music. It's the only thing you ever really loved." Low blow. But probably true. Ethan just breathed deeply, looking pissed and determined.
He grabbed his arm again just as Justin reached the door, and yanked him back. "You can't just leave, I don't have anything else! You're everything to me!"
Justin tried to shrug him off, but his hold was even tighter this time. "Ethan let go." As an afterthought he added, "And what do you mean you don't have anything else? I'm not a fucking object."
Ethan took hold of his other arm, just above the elbow. "That's not what I meant."
"Let me go," Justin demanded, exasperated. He just wanted to leave; what the hell did Ethan think he could say to change that?
"If anyone thinks you're an object it's Brian; you were his fuck-toy, Justin, and going back to him's not going to change that!"
Justin winced, unprepared to hear something like that. "This has nothing to do with Bri--"
Ethan pushed him up against the wall, hard enough to break Justin from his thoughts. "He couldn't even tell you he wanted you to stay, he didn't care where you were or what happened to you, and he sure as hell never loved you!"
"You don't know what you're talking about, now fucking let go of me!"
"So you can go back to him? Be hurt again!?" Ethan's eyes were desperate, demanding, he barely seemed aware of what he was saying; the things he was saying now hurt Justin more than when he'd seen the trick at the door earlier that night.
Justin yanked his arms once more, but was unable to dislodge himself. His own anger build in him and he couldn't help reaching for words that would hurt Ethan just as much. "Maybe he never loved me, but at least he was a better fuck than you!"
And one minute Ethan's eyes were widening and the next Justin was on the floor, finally free of Ethan's hold but trapped by the blinding pain running through his right wrist.
"Fuck," he whispered to the floor, unable to focus and breathe in enough to scream it. His eyesight slowly cleared and he saw drops of blood on the hardwood under his face and felt Ethan's hand on his shoulder, his voice asking if he was okay.
Justin tasted copper and realized that his mouth was bleeding. He slowly sat back on his knees, vaguely aware of Ethan kneeling next to him, still speaking vehemently against Brian.
Fresh blood mixed with the drying red he'd caused with the roses earlier when he felt his lower lip with his left hand; he didn't even feel the split lip as all of his senses were focused on the white fire surging through his gimp hand. 'Must have fallen on it...' he thought to himself.
"I need you to listen to me!" Ethan proclaimed, shaking his shoulder to get his attention. "I'm only trying to protect you. Why can't you see that?"
'He punched me,' Justin suddenly realized. He slowly turned his head and looked at Ethan, and he felt fear replace the hurt and anger he'd been filled with earlier.
"Justin? Are you listening? Are you alright?" Ethan took Justin's cheeks into his hands. "I didn't mean to do that. I just get so protective of you, you know?"
Justin jerked away and somehow found his way to his feet, cradling his right hand close to his chest. Ethan made a grab for his shoulder again, but Justin lurched toward the door and managed to get it open with his left hand.
"Justin, don't leave," Ethan continued, rushing to the door with him and calling after him as Justin stumbled down the hall to the staircase. "He doesn't love you. None of them do! I do, and you know that!"
Justin paused at the first turn in the stairs and glanced back up at his charming prince. Ethan's eyes were narrowed, his arms crossed, waiting for something?
"Just don't expect me to take you back after he fucks you again." And he turned and entered his room, closing the door behind him.
Justin breathed slowly and deeply as he stumbled down the stairs; the pain in his wrist wasn't diminishing; he needed his pain pills. The ones stuffed into his bag. In Ethan's apartment.
Or a hand massage, he thought momentarily. But only one person's ever done that for him.
It was darker than he thought it'd be outside; it must have been late evening, but Justin had no idea what time. It didn't really matter.
After a few minutes, he realized that he hadn't really chosen a direction when he'd started walking, and that none of the buildings looked very familiar. He glanced around briefly but couldn't summon up the energy to figure out where he was. He kept walking.
He just couldn't believe it. He'd been hit before, by Chris Hobbs in the locker room, by his father when he said the wrong thing, but never by someone while they were vehemently assuring him that they loved him. That they were protecting him by doing it. And he'd never just stood there and took it without saying anything, without fighting back. Why hadn't he done anything?
Ethan wasn't exactly a heavyweight, but he did have a much heavier build than Justin. That didn't mean Justin couldn't have punched him back. Fuck, he could have at least yelled in his face, spit on him, stomped his toes for god's sake! But he hadn't done shit! Just sat there on the floor, staring up at Ethan like he was fucking five years old.
"Shit," Justin whispered to himself, his face scrunching up in shame. His arm bumped the building he'd been walking too close to and he kicked it in response. It didn't make him feel any better.
The pulsating pain in his wrist was beginning to ebb, and he slowed his steps a bit as his head cleared and he could breathe again.
He was such a fucking pussy.
Hell, Ethan wouldn't have done it if he'd thought Justin would fight back. He probably realized that Justin was just a weak little toy he could do whatever he wanted with. And Justin had just proved him right.
Anger was mixing with shame as Justin walked further, vaguely noting that there were few other people around. He recognized a couple of chain stores and knew that he was heading away from Liberty Avenue, away from the center of town to where he would recognize even less.
Why couldn't he just fucking...be honest with himself? Most of the shit Ethan was saying was true; he knew that Brian couldn't give him what he wanted, and that Brian's silences, the fact that he openly admitted to choosing not to love Justin, made it clear that Justin really was a pretty fuck-toy for him. Brian cared about him. But he didn't love him. Brian didn't find him worth loving.
And fucking Ethan, the one other person he'd ever been with more than once, the one other person he thought he loved, could have a life with, cheated on him the first chance he got. And then hit him. Justin had imaged them marrying, adopting kids, becoming famous artists together...but obviously Ethan had never actually felt the same way as Justin. He never loved Justin either.
So what the hell was love anyway? Just another four letter word? What was the point of being with people if they didn't feel anything for you? Maybe that was it, maybe it was just him. Maybe Justin was just incapable of being loved.
He snorted at his own thoughts; he was being a fucking emo teenager. But somehow that didn't make it seem any less true.
A few minutes later, Justin stumbled on the sidewalk and brushed his right arm on a light post, causing his wrist to once again explode in pain. He grabbed at it, eyes squeezed shut, and cursed under his breath until he gained his senses back and looked around, his eyes clouded with tears.
Where the hell was he?
Fucking fantastic. Lost in the Pitts, at night, with a gimp hand that's trying to burn itself away from his arm. He slowly leaned against the wall of a closed butcher shop next to the sidewalk and slid down to his butt, careful of his arm. The frustration and shame of his situation was beginning to overwhelm him and Justin fought against the pitiful tears that were collecting behind his eyes.
A black SUV slowed and stopped in front of him, and Justin jumped up to hurry away, not in the mood to deal with 'Are you okay?'s from strangers...or middle-aged married guys looking for a good time, as the case may be.
"Justin?" a voice called behind him. He turned to see Ben slamming the driver's side door of the SUV and coming around behind it after him.
"Oh." He definitely hadn't expected to see any of the gang out here. "Hey Ben." Justin sniffed a few times and ran a hand through his hair, quickly collecting himself and hoping that his eyes weren't red; at least he hadn't let any tears actually fall.
"What are you doing out here?" Ben asked, genuinely curious. His eyes ran over Justin's right arm, still curled into his stomach to protect his hand. Justin was suddenly glad that it was so dark so Ben couldn't make out the blood or the split lip.
"I was just...taking a walk," he finally replied nonchalantly. "I hit my, uh...fucking gimp hand against something earlier and it's been acting up pretty bad since then." There, explained away. He licked his lips nervously and winced as his tongue hit the fresh cut.
Ben nodded, his curious expression replaced with one of concern and understanding. "Well let me give you a ride home. You're pretty far from Ethan's."
"Am I?" Justin didn't know how long he'd been walking.
Ben just laughed amiably and led Justin to the passenger door, holding it open and closing it for him so he wouldn't have to use his hand. They were soon on their way and Justin relaxed into the comfortable seat. When they approached Ethan's apartment building fifteen minutes later, Justin shot up.
"Actually, I was going to stay with Daphne tonight," he blurted before Ben could stop. "She's having some boyfriend trouble and she could use the company.
He felt Ben's eyes on him, but saw him nod from the corner of his eye. He kept glancing over as they made their way toward Daphne's.
"You didn't bring any of your stuff with you," Ben pointed out nonchalantly.
Justin nodded, not looking at him. "It's already there."
Ben was quiet for a couple of minutes. "If something happened, anything you want to talk about, you can talk to me, you know."
Justin nodded again, still staring out the passenger side window, and didn't let show how much the offer affected him; he could actually feel tears well up again. God, he was an emotional mess.
They'd entered the well-lit downtown area by this point, and Justin carefully turned his bloodied hands inward so that they wouldn't be noticeable. He'd forgotten, though, about his lip until Ben cleared his throat.
"Justin. Anything. You want to talk about." They were stopped at a light and Ben was staring purposefully at Justin now. Justin looked over at him and felt himself giving in. It was just Ben anyway; Ben was a friend, and he could be trusted not to blow things out of proportion.
Justin looked away again before saying, "I broke up with Ethan."
The car pulled through the intersection. "I'm sorry to hear that. He seemed like a nice kid." His voice was stiff as though he wasn't sure what kind of reaction he was supposed to have to that news.
"He cheated on me," Justin continued. It felt painfully good to say it aloud, like cutting into his skin to remove some poison just under the surface. "First fucking chance he got, first night he was away, like none of it mattered at all."
Ben glanced over again – Justin assumed in order to seem engaged – and sighed. "God. I'm sorry."
"The guy he fucked showed up with roses tonight. So I told him it was over and I gave him his stupid ring back." Justin still didn't look at Ben, a little ashamed for sounding like such a child. And such a useless object.
After another few minutes of silence, as Ben turned down the road to Daphne's apartment, Ben quietly asked, "And the hand? The busted lip?"
Justin groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. He was just tired now; he didn't want to think about this anymore. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cold window.
"Do you think some people are just...incapable of being loved?"
Ben cleared his throat. "No. No I don't believe that. Do you?"
"I dunno. Maybe." They passed below a street lamp and it hurt his eyes. "Brian didn't. Fuck, he chose not to. And Ethan obviously didn't."
"Didn't love you, you mean?" Justin just closed his eyes and rubbed his left hand against his jeans, hoping to flake off some of the dried blood. "Because I know for a fact that Brian loved you. And still does."
"You know that for a fact, huh?" Justin muttered, exhausted. He felt the vehicle stop and knew they were at Daphne's house.
"I do," Ben assured, turning off the car. Neither made a move to get out. "No one can go through what you two went through, and do the things he did, without being in love."
"Look, I appreciate that you're trying to make me feel better, but you can't know that." Justin growled a bit in frustration and undid his seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride, Ben."
"Did he hit you?"
Justin paused, his hand on the door. He looked back.
"Yeah. Just once." Ben's face was twisted in sadness and disgust. Justin quickly and quietly continued, "Don't worry about it. I'll never see him again, and I'll never let him touch me again. It's just this stupid fucking thing that I have to...forget about, I guess. I-I'll be fine, really." He took a deep breath and looked Ben in the eyes. "And I know I'm being an emo faggot about the whole..love issue...but I'll get over that too. I'm just going to ... move on. You know?"
The older man's expression had changed to one of ...pride? Acceptance, understanding, and something more than Justin couldn't place. But Ben nodded and Justin opened the door with his left hand and got out of the truck.
"I can go with you," Ben said through his window as Justin hustled across the cold street. "To get your stuff from Ethan's place, if you want help."
Justin smiled and felt his traitorous eyes well up again. "Um, yeah. That would be really great. Thanks Ben."
Ben smiled back and waved. He watched Justin walk up to Daphne's apartment building and let himself in. The smile faded as soon as the blond was out of sight, and Ben frowned in confusion at the new feelings tearing at his chest.