Brian only had one lesson with Justin the next day but that hour felt like too much. He couldn't bear to look him in the face whilst his lip was fat and cut, knowing he was indirectly responsible.

"How did, er?" Brian asked, gesturing vaguely to the wound.

"My dad didn't really like what I had to say," Justin said flatly. "I guess you'd know all about that."

Brian just nodded silently. He didn't know what to say. "I'm sure you didn't deserve it," was what he went with eventually. Eric had said it to him when Jack sr had first hit Brian when he was 9. Brian had believed it all those years ago. He didn't always believe it now.

"I know I don't deserve it," Justin replied angrily. "My mom went mad. She even said something about divorce," Justin put his pencil down on the table and sighed heavily. "I didn't even know things were bad between them."

"They'll probably be fine," Brian said positively.

"Yeah," Justin nodded. "It was probably heat of the moment. It's just Molly heard the whole thing and…." He sighed again. "Families," he shrugged. "Who'd have them?"

"Not me," Brian sighed.

::

Everything had seemed strange all day, really strange but not for any reason that Brian could name. It was more just a general feeling. Eric and Jack had been acting really weird with him too. They seemed to be bickering all the time but their voices were low like they were sharing some huge secret and then whenever Brian went near them they'd immediately stop or Jack would find something important he suddenly had to do on the other side of the school.

"Is everything alright?" Brian asked Eric as Jack made a feeble excuse to disappear at lunch.

"Everything's fine," Eric said just a little too loudly with a grin that was a little too wide but Brian just frowned and said,

"Okay. Well, I'll see you at this training thing after school."

"Training thing?" Eric looked puzzled.

"Yeah, apparently the coach has got some new plays he wants to go through." Eric still looked completely confused. "Jack told me coach needed me there to learn them whilst you lot practised them."

"Oh!" Eric suddenly seemed to remember, though Brian could help feel it all felt a little fake. "Yes. Training, tonight. The new plays. Right. I remember. Yeah, I'll, er, I'll see you there."

"Okay," Brian nodded that uneasy feeling that had plagued him was only getting worse.

::

It started raining just as the end of school was nearing. Brian watched each droplet splatting against the window pain before dribbling pathetically to join the rest of the drops in a puddle on the outer window sill. The clouds were grey had had managed to block out every available bit of blue sky, it was just miserable, completely miserable. It didn't help the fact he was already feeling like shit.

He sighed heavily and span a pencil around his fingers a few times as he tried will away the last five minutes of this lesson. Maths. He hated numbers and he didn't need to be good at them, he'd already managed to convince Ted to teach him in the run up to exams, so he'd just cram for the exam in that last week.

"Okay," the teacher said eventually, "I suppose that'll do for today. I'll see you all Wednesday for a little pop-quiz."

Brian listened to the groans in stereo as they rang around the classroom but as far as Brian was concerned a pop-quiz wasn't worth groaning at. There were worse things like parents who don't love you, or missing a football game that could have cemented your future or having someone admit they are in love with you … Brian still couldn't understand that. He couldn't fathom why anyone would love him when most people didn't even seem to even like him and then he remembered that he had to go training and he eyed the rain as it started to beat heavily against the window pain. He groaned too.

Brian didn't even bother to pull the hood of his sweatshirt over his hair. It would probably have soaked through in a matter of seconds anyway. He saw Lindsey climbing into her car, so he waved.

"Do you want a lift?" She shouted over the noise of the lashing of water from the sky and the squeals of the cheerleading squad, as their make up melted down their faces, giving them the impression of the wicked witch of the west. "I've got training," Brian yelled back and she just nodded, waving again as she ducked back into the car.

He wasn't really paying much attention as he made his way down the slightly sloping concrete path towards the locker rooms. The rain seemed to be flowing like a river as it passed him and Brian was sure that training would have to be cancelled. He couldn't imagine they'd want 50 boys churning up the ground until it resembled a swamp. In fact, he suspected they'd probably spend thirty minutes sat in the smelly locker room, watching the coach draw weird little shapes and arrows on a whiteboard whilst blabbing on about overly complex plays that probably wouldn't work. Why did all coaches think they were Vince Lombardi?

Then Brian stepped in a puddle and as the water rushed over the top of his sneakers and filled up his socks. He knew this really was going to be shit.

He put his hand on the door and swung it open. It was eerily quiet. He'd expected a barrage of noise from a huge group of chatty squad members but there was nothing and then.

"Why are you doing this?" And Brian's heart stopped. He knew that voice. He'd know it anywhere. It was Justin. Why the hell was he here?

"Shut the fuck up, faggot!"

And Brian felt sick because he knew that voice too. It was Jack.

He rounded the corner and just stared. Justin was being held against the wall by Jack, who was right up in his face shaking him angrily, with Eric just a few feet away looking guilty and anxious. Justin had a new red mark around his right eye and his face and hair were wet whilst the rest of him was dry and Brian could only assume he'd been head first into a toilet. It was one of Jack's favourite punishments.

Suddenly, Justin's eyes flicked to Brian. He looked broken, defeated and fucking terrified but he looked just a little hopeful when he spotted him. Jack didn't miss the glance. He peered over his shoulder and his lips curled up into a sneer.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brian asked calmly.

"Showing this little faggot," Jack slammed Justin's back into the lockers making a loud metal bang,"exactly what happens to queers like him." He spat in Justin's face and Brian flinched at the same time Justin did. "Want a go?" Jack chuckled, pinning Justin to the wall with one hand but stepping aside for Brian to land a punch, or spit in his face or do whatever the hell he wanted.

"Don't be a shit, Jack," Brian sighed, sitting on one of the benches. "Leave the cocksucker alone! The coach will be here soon."

"The coach won't be here, Bri," Jack sneered. "There's no training."

"What?" Brian frowned.

"I just told you that to get you here. I didn't want you to miss out on all the fun." He kneed, Justin hard in the stomach and then let the boy crumple to the floor.

"Stop it!" Brian shouted. He couldn't help himself. He couldn't bear to watch this. Justin was whimpering a little as he tried to push himself onto his knees and Brian knew he was trying not to cry. He knew that the pain would be just a constant throbbing between severe pain and dull pain. He knew that Justin wouldn't know if he was going to make it through, whether this beating would stop in time for him to be able to recover or whether Jack would go to far and finish him off completely.

"Stop?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because you're hurting him."

"So? He's just a fag. It doesn't matter if he gets hurt or killed. He's only going to die from AIDS soon anyway. In fact he's probably already got it. Have you Gaylor?"

"You want to hope he hasn't, his blood's all over you," Eric pointed out casually and Jack suddenly glared at Justin with pure hatred in his eyes.

"Swear to me," he seethed, "that you haven't got it."

Justin stayed silent and earned himself a knee in the head for his troubles. Brian watched as the blondes skull ricocheted off knee and then wall before Justin slumped fully to the floor again.

"Answer the fucking question faggot!"

Justin opened his mouth to speak but that last hit had thrown him a bit and he'd bitten the inside of his cheek. Brian could see the blood pouring out of his mouth but he didn't know what to do. Jack pulled his foot back again and Brian said;

"He hasn't got it Jack. Just stop hitting him. You're turning into dad!"

"Yeah, well when someone deserves to get kicked around, then that's what they should get," Jack responded coldly.

"Jesus Christ Jack," Brian cried, standing up and pointing down at a very broken, bloody Justin. "Look at him. No once deserves this."

"He's a goddamn fudge packer."

"Why does that matter?"

"No!" Jack bellowed suddenly shoving Brian hard so he stumbled back into the lockers. "Why doesn't it matter?" He looked insane, like he could easily kill someone if they provoked him. He looked just like his father does just before he lashes out at Brian. "I saw you," he hissed, his face bright red with fury, his fists clenched and shaking. "Both of you," he continued, turning back to look at the quivering mess of Justin, "at that fucking concert last night." Brian could almost feel the colour drain from his face as Jack continued, "I threw a fucking can at a couple of goddamn queers and as they walk away, I find that it's fucking you!" He shoved Brian hard again and he slammed against the wall. "What the fuck was that about Brian?"

Brian had a second, just a split second to decide what to say and in an ideal world he'd have chosen to stand up to his brother and take the consequences, he'd have stood tall as an out and proud homosexual man but Brian wasn't out and he certainly wasn't proud. In fact, a lot of the time when he was listening to the minister on a Sunday or listening to his family throwing around the words cocksucker, fudge packer, homo, faggot, he felt ashamed. He felt hated, an outcast, unlovable. So he wished there'd been a moment where he'd even considered the right thing but Brian had inherited one steadfast Kinney-trait; look after number one. He remembered once his dad saying he'd have played for the Nazi's if it would have kept him alive for one more day and Brian had been sickened but now, faced with turning his back on who he really was and being safe or admitting the truth and being hurt, he saved his own ass.

"He jumped me," he gabbled. "I didn't even know it was happening." The lies were so easy, so natural. "We were just supposed to be writing a review for the mag and then he was there, kissing me."

Jack sneered. He didn't look like he even half believed Brian but this was clearly what he wanted to hear.

"I thought so," he nodded slowly. And then he turned back to Justin. "See faggot, no matter how hard you wish, my brother's fucking straight. He's normal, like me and Eric and most people. He doesn't what you so stop following him around. And don't jump on him in concerts." Justin barely moved, he was curled up and his body was shaking and Brian knew he wasn't even pretending not to cry now. The sobs were there for everyone to see.

"Well," Jack looked back to Brian expectantly.

"What?"

"Fucking hit him," Jack said angrily. Brian looked a little confused so Jack said, "he jumped on you and kissed you. Don't you wanna pay him back for that?"

"I guess," Brian shrugged, though the only payback he wanted to give Justin for that kiss was another kiss, or perhaps a blowjob.

"So hit him," Jack grinned, like it was the most painfully obvious thing in the world. "Unless," he looked very seriously at his youngest brother, "maybe you liked kissing a guy?"

"Of course not," Brian scoffed immediately and even in his own ears he didn't sound at all convincing but Jack just shrugged.

"Prove it," he urged.

And that's how it happened. That's how Brian had ended up kicking another human being hard in the stomach. That's how he'd ended up making the person he cared more about than anyone else in the world cry out in pain. He'd done it. He'd turned into his goddamn father. He didn't stay to face the consequences, he just proved himself to his brothers and walked away like the goddamn coward he was. Jack and Eric followed him. They were clearly happy with how things had turned out. Jack, in particular, seemed ecstatic.

"That fucking faggot won't bother you again," Jack beamed, slinging an arm around Brian's shoulder. "No more Gaylor for you to worry about."

Brian didn't answer he was trying really, really hard to hold it together. Every time he closed his eyes he was haunted by the pleading expression on Justin's face right before he kneed him. He shook his head and gulped back the lump of tears that were pushing their way up his throat but the more he pushed them down, the more the bile in his stomach became agitated and he felt like he was going to vomit everywhere.

"Do you want a lift home, Bri?" Jack asked as they reached the car park. Brian just shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak, he just knew he had to be alone right now. So he turned his back on his brothers and walked in the direction of the forest. He knew he wouldn't be disturbed there.

He walked and walked, the tears flowing freely down his face and the oxygen becoming harder and harder to gasp in. Eventually, he fell to his knees weak and desperate. He retched but there was nothing to come up but that didn't stop his body trying. He retched again, his eyes streaming with the force of his stomach cramping and the effect it was having on his bruised ribs.

Finally, he calmed down enough to pull his cell from his pocket and changed the settings so that his phone call would be anonymous before searching for Michael's number.

"Hello," Michael said brightly.

"Check the locker room. Quickly. Your friend needs you," Brian said quickly, lowering his voice and speaking quickly before hanging up. Then he dropped his cell to dirty floor and sighed heavily. He'd fucked up everything. Now, he had a shit family and no friends and no Justin. He'd destroyed the only person who'd ever loved him and left them for dead in a changing room. He hugged his knees tight to his chest and rested his chin on them. Fuck. He really hoped his dad would lose his job soon so he could leave all this shit behind. He could really do with another new start, another chance at playing the straight football jock. Maybe he could live with that forever. It hadn't been so bad dating Sandy, had it?

He puffed his cheeks and blew out sharply. Who the fuck was he kidding? The forest smelt earthy and the wet mud was seeping into his jeans, he'd probably get in trouble later for messing up his clothes but that would just be the perfect ending to the worst day of his life … so far. Because he could only assume that when he next saw Justin, that would become the absolute worst day of his life … if he ever saw Justin.

Brian wasn't surprised to see the seat at the front in History empty. Justin was probably in hospital letting his wounds heal. The wounds he'd caused. He say alone, despite the football players at the back of the classroom calling him to sit with them. He didn't really feel like faking at being one of he guys.

Lindsey looked solemn when he got to chemistry and he half expected her to throw hydrochloric acid in his face when he got near but she didn't. She just smiled weakly and said,

"Have you heard what happened to Justin?"

Brian shook his head because the truth was he hadn't heard what had happened to Justin after they left him.

"He's been beaten up by some homophobic football players," she whispered, eyeing Jon Malins, who was the only other football player in this class with disgust. "They took him down to the changing rooms and beat him half to death. Michael found him after he got some kind of weird tip off. Of course he rang for an ambulance and they took him to hospital straight away."

"How is he?" Brian asked.

"He'll live," she whispered back. "He took a view pretty horrible whacks to the head and he says he can't remember who did it but I think he's lying. Maybe they threatened to get him again."

"Maybe," Brian nodded distantly. Justin wasn't ratting on him, despite what he did. He didn't deserve that.

"Are you okay?" Lindsey asked suddenly, squeezing his thigh comfortingly. "I know how you feel about him. I mean, maybe you should go and see him. Take the afternoon off."

"I might go," Brian nodded. But he didn't think he would. He didn't want to see Justin looking frail and injured and he knew Justin wouldn't want to see him.

::

Brian watched through the class as Justin slept restlessly in an uncomfortable looking hospital bed. It had all been too much for Brian to handle. All he could hear everywhere he went in school was the gossip about Justin Taylor. They all had it wrong, little parts of the story that were untrue but that didn't matter, the point was the basics were right, Justin Taylor was in hospital, he had been beaten up by some homophobes and he wasn't saying who did it.

Brian pressed his head against the glass, and sighed, his breath fogging up his view.

"Friend of yours?" A woman's voice asked from behind him. He turned around to see a nurse checking something on a chart.

"Sort of," he nodded, looking back through the glass.

"Horrible thing to happen," she remarked, standing next to Brian and peering through the glass too before marking a few more things off on her clipboard. "He says he can't remember who did it but the doctor's say they can't find anything on any scans to indicate why he might have lost his memory. You don't happen to know who did it, do you?"

Brian closed his eyes for a long while before shaking his head slowly.

"It's a shame," the nurse said slowly. "I think they should arrest the little bastards. It's the 21st century I'd like to think we've got passed attacking people for their religion or sexuality."

"Some people are just programmed that way I guess," Brian sighed.

"Mm," the nurse agreed steadily. "You know who I blame? The parents. These kids learn their violence from somewhere and I think we learn things like that at home. They reckon abused kids are 40% more likely to do things like this."

"40%, is that all?" Brian muttered.

"Do you want to go in?" The nurse asked a few moments later when she'd finished with the rest of the ticking. "Visiting hours don't start officially for another twenty minutes but I'm sure it'll be okay."

"It's alright," Brian said. "I should probably be going anyway."

"No, no," the nurse insisted. "You wait there and I'll tell him you came to visit. What's your name?"

"Brian."

"Brian, right," she smiled. "You just wait there a moment."

Brian watched through the window as the nurse gently woke Justin up. She seemed to ask him a few questions, which she wrote the responses to on her clipboard. And then she began to say something else. She pointed towards the window, right at him, and Brian could only watch as Justin turned his head slowly in his direction. His eyes burned with flames of hate and Brian cowered a little under the force of the glare. Brian saw him yell and he didn't need to be able to lip read to know he'd said 'get the fuck out', before doubling over in pain.

Brian was already half way down the corridor when the nurse came out to suggest it might be better if he leave.