Lindsay's unexpected appearance causes shocking and dramatic repercussions between Brian and Justin.
As soon as Justin parked his bike near his apartment and tugged off his helmet, he reached inside his jacket pocket to send a text message to the man who had been uppermost on his mind since he had left him a short while ago. Smiling at the memory of how hard it had been to part - but reassured by the fact that he would see him again tomorrow night - he sent a short message wishing Brian good night (without the hokey Romeo inference this time), and waited for the typical, snarky response to be sent in return.
This time, however, he frowned after a while when no message was forthcoming. That's odd, he couldn't help thinking. Perhaps he had been spoiled before, but Brian always texted him back promptly whenever he sent a text; at least when he wasn't at work, and even then it normally didn't take him long to respond. Perplexed, he bit his lip thoughtfully for a minute or so, staring at his phone as if he could will it to cooperate, before he finally decided to disembark from his bike and proceed into his apartment to get a drink of water and shrug off his jacket.
Now, as he sat with his legs crossed under him on his rather worn sofa, he looked down at his cellphone clutched in his hand for probably the 30th time and wondered if he had done or said something wrong earlier. He had tried to call Brian directly a few minutes ago, only to have the phone go immediately into his voicemail, so he didn't leave a message. His thoughts wandered back to their evening together as he sat there in the quiet of his apartment. Brian hadn't seemed upset about anything; well, only the fact that he couldn't stay the night, and even then he didn't really seem bothered by it, especially since they would be seeing one another again soon. Had it been their conversation earlier, when Brian had asked him about the 'other plans' he had mentioned?
He thought he had done a good job of convincing Brian, of telling him that the other times were merely outings with friends and didn't mean anything to him. Hadn't he been able to tell in the way that he had kissed him; in the way that they had made love? And to Justin, that was what it was. He had to admit it; he was falling in love with this perplexing enigma of a man. Perhaps he had already been in love with him since the first moment they had met at Woody's. He suspected, though, that it might have been that night when they gazed up at the stars, and Brian had held him so tenderly as he assured him he that would never be alone anymore. So just what was going on? Was he overreacting, perhaps? He sighed as he placed his phone down beside him and restlessly brushed his right hand through his messy hair.
He walked over and pushed back the curtain slightly that overlooked the parking lot, somehow hoping (irrationally) that he would find Brian staring back up at him with that knowing smirk he always had on his face as if to say "Gotcha!" But he let out a deep, frustrated breath as he saw nothing out of the ordinary - just the same cars and his bike parked where they always were at night, under the glow of the security lamp. "Brian, what's going on?" he murmured fretfully.
He finally decided that a hot shower might relax him and make him think a little more clearly as he walked toward the bathroom and turned the water on. All it managed to do, however, was cause him to come rushing back into the cramped living room a few minutes later, wet and naked, when he heard his phone chime to signify that he had a text. His heart pounding with both excitement as well as relief, he rushed to grab his phone from the sofa with a big smile, only to have it fade away as he realized the message wasn't from Brian.
"Fuck," he whispered in both dread and disappointment as he read the message:
RU still awake? We need 2 talk.
Justin sighed heavily as, uncaring of how he was dripping water onto the carpet, he stood there in indecision, wondering what the hell he was going to do. Right now, he only had one thing - or one person - on his mind. Everything else would have to wait. After several seconds, he finally sent a brief text of his own:
I'm exhausted and about to go to bed; we can talk at school tomorrow. Good night.
He hated to brush Gus off that way, but Brian was all he could think about right now. Placing the phone back down - this time closer to the bathroom in case he needed to reach it again - he returned to the shower.
Drying his hair off a few minutes later with a towel, he threw it down in disgust in a corner of the tiled bathroom. It had now been thirty minutes since he had sent Brian that text. Perhaps in the grand scheme of things it wasn't such a long time to wait for a reply, but that wasn't like Brian - at least when it came to answering him. He knew he was at home; he had just left him there. And he figured that surely Brian hadn't gone to bed THAT quickly. So what exactly was going on? And why did he have this sinking feeling that something was horribly wrong?
"Damn; fuck it," he growled as, making an impetuous decision, he hurriedly pulled on the same pair of jeans and shirt he had worn earlier and, tugging his shoes back on and grabbing his leather jacket, cellphone and keys, he rushed toward the door, disregarding the late hour and how early he would have to get up tomorrow.
Across town at approximately the same time, Gus closed his eyes briefly in dismay as he read Justin's curt dismissal of his request, his torso leaning against the headboard as he sat there in the dimness of the room. Shit, he must be mad at me or something, he couldn't help thinking. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he kept muttering internally over what had happened earlier. He was *this* close to finally demonstrating to Justin how he felt, and he let Tristan come between them. Damn it! Why did Kayla's brother decide today of all days to get plastered? And why exactly had he done it in the first place? That was a puzzle to him. Everything was a puzzle to him lately.
He peered over at the 'birthday girl,' knowing Kayla had gone to bed both happy as well as more than a little tipsy herself; he suspected a freight train could rumble through the room at any moment and it would still not wake her up. He longed to do just that - to rouse her and tell her what had happened earlier - but he knew it was no use. Besides, it would be a little embarrassing explaining what had transpired between him and her brother. What HAD happened, exactly? He had to admit - after that night with the makeshift basketball game, he had suspected by the way that Tristan occasionally stole a glance his way from time to time that he might be interested in him. And when he had kissed him earlier; holy shit. Even in his inebriated state, he had to admit that Tristan could kiss. He had almost lost himself in that kiss. And the way his body had felt next to his. If Justin hadn't interrupted them...
"Aaargh!" he groaned in confusion as he covered his eyes with his hands, almost as if it would shut out his thoughts that were presently in turmoil. Exactly what was going on? He knew he wouldn't be able to talk to Justin now until tomorrow, but there was one party he COULD talk to - and he was presently lying in his bed down the hall. Was he asleep, though? And would he be more sober now? Well, it didn't matter, damn it; he had to know just what had caused that episode earlier. Pulling back the cover from his lower body, he carefully rose from the bed so as not to disturb Kayla and made his way toward the door that was ajar, his bare feet making no noticeable sound on the hardwood floor as he opened it and crept down the hallway toward Tristan's room, clad only in the pair of jeans he had worn earlier that night.
Slowly opening the door to Tristan's room, he poked his head in first. Tristan was, indeed, lying face up on his bed; his face partially illuminated by the moonlight streaming into the room through the window nearby. He had what appeared to be a white washcloth folded over his eyes and his forehead - no doubt in an attempt to alleviate the bitch of a hangover he probably had - and his hands were folded over his bare chest. He appeared to be asleep, from the looks of his chest moving regularly up and down.
As Gus crept closer, however, and peered down at the full, slightly-parted mouth and the expanse of smooth skin under his inspection to make sure, he had this inexplicable urge to lean down and taste those lips again that he had sampled earlier; to try and determine if the kiss they had shared had, indeed, been something memorable or if Tristan would even remember it later once he sobered up tomorrow. If he hadn't been drunk, would he have even tried something like that, he wondered? Daring to perch gingerly on the side of the bed now, he took a few moments to stare down at the muscular form lying so still below him before, as if drawn by some magnet, he leaned in closer to Tristan's face until he was mere inches apart...
Just in time, however, he realized what he was doing and pulled back in disgust. What the hell was he thinking? Wasn't he in enough deep shit already without complicating matters further? How different would it be for him to kiss Tristan while he was asleep, than for a drunken Tristan to kiss HIM? None at all.
He lifted himself carefully back off the bed, wondering if he was going crazy. Get a hold of yourself, damn it! He berated himself as he stood up and looked down at the other boy's sleeping form, immensely relieved that apparently Tristan had no idea he was even in the room. Taking care to not make any loud noises, he managed to slip out and close Tristan's door behind him before he let out a deep breath of relief and walked back into Kayla's room, finding her in precisely the same position she had been in before.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he rubbed his hand roughly over his face, his mind a mass of confusion and his emotions raw and erratic. He had come close to making matters worse by practically assaulting Tristan while he was passed out from being drunk, for God's sake! What the fuck was going on?
Twisting his body so he could fall back onto the bed on his back, he peered up at the ceiling and decided for once that he was NOT going to confide in Kayla about this whole, sordid mess; if he did, she would think he was a freak for sure. It would be at least another hour before he finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep beside her.
An hour later across town...
Justin held his hand up, poised to knock but hesitating as he stood in front of Brian's loft door. He had paced back and forth anxiously downstairs by the front entrance for what must have been at least forty minutes until by a stroke of luck a female tenant had walked up. He had plastered on his most engaging smile and had managed to charm her into letting him in, explaining that he was staying with Brian - his brother - while he was visiting him and had forgotten to get the pass code from him, and how he had stupidly left his cell phone up in Brian's apartment upstairs. Profusely thanking her as she shamelessly flirted with him and allowed him to follow her inside, his braveness promptly deserted him a few minutes later as he now stood at Brian's door.
His concern superseding his possible embarrassment over there being nothing wrong, however, he took a deep breath before he knocked three times on the steel door and waited for Brian to appear. When nothing happened, however, and he knocked twice more with no response, he was about to give up when he decided for the heck of it to just turn the lever and see if it opened. To his surprise as well as relief, it gave easily under his touch and he pulled it down to slide the heavy door ajar.
As he slipped inside and shut the door behind him, the first thing he noticed was the strong stench of cigarette smoke in the air; it was so prevalent that it was hard to breath inside and made his eyes water as they adjusted to the semi-darkness. From his position by the door, he could just make out Brian sitting on the bare, hardwood floor with his back up against the couch, an empty, forlorn-looking bottle of whiskey lying on its side next to him. A full ashtray was keeping Brian company nearby as Justin watched the end of the cigarette light up briefly between Brian's lips as he took a drag. A half-empty glass of what was left of the booze was clutched in his other hand as he stared blankly ahead at nothing in particular.
"Brian?" he called out quietly as he walked closer to him, noticing that his lover didn't even react to the sound of his voice or his footsteps. "I tried to text you earlier, but you didn't answer. You had me worried." His eyes widened as he got a better look at the rest of the living area; when he had left before, it had been clean and spotless. Now, along with the butt-laden ashtray and the toppled bottle of booze, he noticed there were fractured vases and pieces of art scattered everywhere around the room, the remnants glinting in the moonlight where they had broken. "Brian..."
"Get out," was the eerily quiet response finally, although Brian still did not move from his place on the floor.
Justin's heart hammering in fear now over Brian's behavior, he walked closer to extend his hand out to reach down and touch Brian's shoulder and grasp it, only to have him pull away from his touch. "Brian...no...Tell me what's wrong," Justin insisted softly, shocked by his reaction. What in the hell was going on? "What's going on?"
Brian stubbed the cigarette out into the ashtray, the glass of booze clanking onto the floor as he suddenly rose to his feet to face him, causing Justin to shrink back slightly from the wild, raging look in his eyes. "I said, get the fuck OUT!" he roared now as he gave Justin a small push backward.
"No!" Justin countered stubbornly, despite his shock. He wasn't going anywhere...not until he got an explanation.
Brian fumed at his obstinacy, feeling his temper reaching a boiling point; he was in no mood to argue with him - not with ANYONE right now. No one could help him...not even Justin. "I said, leave...me...alone!" he growled a little quieter now, hoping, pleading that Justin would do as he asked.
"No, not until you tell me what's happened, Brian!" Justin insisted, his face pale with worry. "Please..."
Brian turned around then, unable to face him, as the events from earlier came rushing back into his mind...
Flashback to earlier...
"Hello, Brian," was the quiet, unexpected greeting.
Brian stood there with his mouth agape. "What the fuck are you doing here, Lindsay?"
Lindsay smirked. "Polite as always, I see. May I come in?" she asked, as she craned her neck in an attempt to peer around Brian's taller form. Except for the hair swept up into an informal chignon - and the more costly, elegantly-tailored two-piece pants suit Lindsay was now wearing - she looked pretty much the same as the last time Brian had seen her years ago.
Brian stared at her for a few seconds before he grudgingly twisted his body just enough to allow her enough room to enter. He stayed near the door as he observed Lindsay walk in and scrutinize his and his son's living space before she turned to face him. "Where is he, Brian?"
"I said...What you are doing here?" Brian repeated, ignoring her question.
"What do you think?" Lindsay countered coolly. "I'm here to see my son."
"Right. After what, sixteen fucking years? Now he's suddenly YOUR son, Lindsay?"
"Brian, watch your language!" she scolded him angrily, her lips pressed together in disapproval. "You don't have to use such profanity at me."
He laughed at her in disbelief. "Don't come into MY house and tell me what the fuck to do! Gus isn't here; he's spending the night with a friend," he finally told her, although that was ALL she was going to be told. "Now I repeat - either tell me what the fuck you want, or you can get the hell out of here right now."
She sighed. "I was praying it wouldn't come to this and you would listen to reason, but if that's the way you want to play it..." She stared at him unflinchingly as she stated, "I've come to take Gus back with me; it's the only way."
Brian looked at her in astonishment. "What? Are you out of your mind? What the hell are you talking about, Lindsay? He quit being your son when you turned your back on him - and me."
"I never forgot about him, Brian," she protested vehemently as she stood with her hands across her chest. "He's always been my son. And now I realize he has no future if he stays with you."
Brian's mouth hung open. Was this for real? Was SHE for real? He was rendered speechless momentarily by the absurdity of it all.
"I have a family back home, Brian. A family that I love who loves me. I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful daughter," she explained as a smile appeared on her face and she patted her stomach, "...and another one on the way." She paused for a few seconds before adding, "And it's time for Gus to be reunited with his family, Brian. A REAL family."
Brian's eyes blazed with scornful fury. "I AM his real family," he told her through clenched teeth. "And I'll be cold in the goddamn, fucking ground before I let you take him from me."
Lindsay took a deep breath. She had suspected that Brian wouldn't be rational about this; he always HAD been extremely pigheaded. Perhaps it was time to take a different tactic. "Listen, Brian. I'm sure you love Gus in your own way," she told him soothingly. "And you think I haven't been the least bit involved in his life. But that's not true," she informed him as she opened up her handbag and pulled out a small stack of photos. "I've had a private detective constantly checking up on him and providing me with updates as well as photos." She walked over to hand them to Brian as he looked down at them in shock.
There were pictures of Gus depicting him at all ages - Brian recognized the first one as one of Gus's photos from his preschool day care, and as he sorted through them, he noticed they went all the way up to present day, including several of him playing basketball at St. James. He couldn't help smiling a little in recollection as he recognized one photo that had been taken when Gus was eleven and playing Little League Baseball. His team had won the state tournament that year - mainly due to his son's pitching skills - and the team had dumped an entire cooler of ice over his head in jubilant celebration just before the shot was taken. He looked like the proverbial, drowned rug rat in the photo, but he had this goofy, ecstatic look on his face. Gus always had been a happy kid - he had made sure of that.
It was apparent from where and when the photos had been taken that Gus had practically been stalked since the first day he had been born. His face darkened in disgust over the realization. "What the fuck, Lindsay? Why? You could have been a part of his life from the very beginning...if you had wanted to be."
Pointedly ignoring his statement, she took the photos out of his hands and replied, "I was agreeable, based on the detective's reports and the photos he gave me, to leave him with you as long as I thought he was happy in this unorthodox arrangement that the two of you have. But that was before. Now, everything's changed."
"What are you talking about, Lindsay?" he demanded as he placed his hands on his hips and watched her rifle through the photos as if she were searching for one in particular.
"I was always aware of your lifestyle, Brian, and while the Bible views it as a sin, at some point I actually came to tolerate it; that is, as long as it didn't directly affect our child and you kept it to yourself. But now I see that you have taken it upon yourself to project your perverted lifestyle upon our son, and I simply can't allow that to happen." Finding the photo she had been searching for, she held it out to Brian for his inspection. "Do you remember when this was taken, Brian?" she probed, her face full of contempt as he peered down at it.
The 4" X 6" photo was taken earlier in the year at a going-away picnic that Brian had offered to throw at the local park for Jason Copper, one of Gus's oldest childhood friends who was moving away with his parents. The photo showed both boys with their arms around each other as Gus gave the other boy a playful peck on the lips. It had all been in jest - Jason knew that Gus was gay, and being straight he had promptly pushed him away right after it had been taken as the two of them had laughed over it. But, of course, no one could tell that from the photograph itself.
"Yeah...I know exactly when it was taken," he told him. "So what's your point, Lindsay? It was totally innocent."
She stared at him in disbelief. "Innocent? Are you kidding me, Brian?" she raged as she snatched the photo back from him and looked at it in disgust. "There's nothing innocent about it! This was the last straw, Brian! You've managed to make Gus just as sick as you are! Maybe it's not too late to change him back, though."
Brian laughed at her in ridicule. "Change him? You don't change someone's sexual orientation like you change your underwear, Lindsay! No one has a choice in the matter. Yeah...Gus happens to like cock like I do," he told her as she let out a gasp. "But that was pure chance. No one decides at some point to be gay or straight; that's just the way it is."
"You think what you want, Brian. But I won't allow him to remain here where you can continue to push such warped, perverted ideas on him!" She shook her head in sad resignation. "Very well. If it has to come to this, then so be it..." Reaching back into her handbag, she pulled out an ivory-colored business envelope with the words Strathmore, Lewis, and Thomas, Attorneys at Law typed in the far left corner.
Placing the envelope down on the kitchen counter nearby, she told him, "Best get used to the idea, Brian. I'm NOT leaving him with you any longer." Snapping her handbag closed, she turned to go.
"I'll be seeing you in court," she told him as she reached the still-open door. "In the meantime, I suggest you think about your son's future instead of your own for a change. If you decide to be reasonable and come to your senses without drawing this out any further, I'll consider allowing you to have visitation with him - as long as it's supervised, of course. I'll pray for you, Brian," she told him quietly as she slipped through the open doorway and disappeared.
Brian was too stunned to move for several seconds until, at last finding his feet he hurried after her, just in time to see her entering the elevator car. "No, Lindsay!" he shouted back at her as she turned to face him and the car began to descend, not caring whether any of the other tenants could hear him. "I'll see YOU in HELL first!"
End of Flashback...
At the recollection of what had happened earlier - and the thought of possibly losing his son forever, his pride and joy and his reason for living - a tear unexpectedly fell unbidden down Brian's cheek as he angrily wiped it away.
"Brian?" Justin was totally freaked out now. This wasn't like Brian at all; this was almost like a total stranger to him. He could think of only one reason why Brian would act this way. He reached to grasp Brian's shoulder. "Brian...did something happen to your son? Is he okay?"
At the mention of Gus, Brian wrenched away from him to whirl around and face him, his eyes dark with rage. It wasn't that he was angry with Justin - he was angry at the world; a world that had no tolerance, no open-mindedness - only hatred; pure, unadulterated hatred.
"Don't you EVER mention my son out loud, do you hear me?" he yelled. "Who are you to even talk about him?"
Justin's mouth hung open in stunned anguish over the look on Brian's face - and the hatred in his voice. "I'm...I'm sorry...," he stammered. "I don't understand..."
Brian walked closer to him, his face now beet red. "I told you before to GET OUT, Justin!" he reminded him as he gave him a more violent shove this time, almost causing Justin to lose his balance. "DO IT! Before I fucking THROW you out!"
Justin's eyes' filled with tears of disbelief. "But...but we..."
Brian laughed scornfully at him. "We? WE? There IS no 'WE!' You were just some hot little twink with a tight ass that I had my fun with, and now I'm done with you," he told him with a sneer as Justin's face crumpled in stunned reaction.
Justin stubbornly shook his head, though, unable to accept it. "No...That's not true..."
Brian smiled at him then - a hollow smile filled with what looked like pity. "You are so gullible," he told him as Justin's heart promptly broke in two. "But you WERE good in bed."
Justin shook his head then, his eyes filling with tears. "Fuck you, Brian! Fuck you! Damn you to hell!" he shouted at him, as at last he spun on his heels and rushed toward the door, his tears almost blinding him in his bid to escape. He managed somehow to open the door before stumbling outside, deciding he couldn't wait for the elevator before he rushed toward the staircase on the right that led downstairs.
Brian stood there, listening to Justin's rapidly retreating footsteps echoing as he rushed down the metal steps, before he leaned down to pick up the empty bottle of Beam lying on its side on the floor. Holding it up to his lips to take one last drop from the container, he promptly reared back and threw it violently against the far wall, the million shards of glass mixing in with the shattered remains of the picture frames, as well as his own heart. Almost as if on autopilot, he turned and walked over to the door to close it and turn the alarm on before turning to enter his bedroom, collapsing onto the bed in a numb, drunken heap.
The Next Day...
Justin stood astride his bike, peering up at the neatly kept, pink-and-lilac colored Victorian home situated on a shady, mature neighborhood on the east side of the Pitts. A matching wooden sign with cream colored trim neatly proclaimed this was no ordinary house, however.
It had taken everything Justin had had in him today to come here to visit his grandmother, even though he religiously came to see her on this day every other week without fail. Today, though, his heart was heavy and he hadn't slept a wink. He hadn't even tried. He had sat up all night, nursing cup after cup of coffee and wondering what had happened last night between him and Brian. He had vacillated between hoping it had all just been a horrible dream - that he would go over to Brian's loft tonight and everything would be just fine between them - and wanting to go back over there and tell Brian what a despicable person he thought he was for misleading him and breaking his heart - but he knew he couldn't miss his regular visit with one of the few members of his family who had always loved and supported him, and accepted him for who he was. Truthfully, too, he desperately needed that kind of support right now, because if he thought about what had happened too much longer, he might very well be plunged into a deep abyss of depression that he couldn't emerge from.
Sighing, he pulled off his helmet and laid it down on the bike before opening up his saddle bag to take out a small, tissue-wrapped bouquet of carnations that he had picked up on the way over. Hopping off the bike, he walked up the sidewalk to the unassuming, lilac-painted front door. As assisted-care facilities go, Morris House was a very small one. But that was what both he and his grandmother liked about it. It had a homey and personal touch; so much so, in fact, that the four residents of the facility were encouraged to perform gardening, cooking, and other chores around the house as they saw fit. It helped to strengthen the bond of friendship that had grown between them, as well as make them feel useful, and it also reassured Justin that his treasured "nana" was being well -cared for.
As he opened the door and entered, he was instantly greeted by the residence manager, as she was called; it was her job to oversee and coordinate the overall care of each resident. "Hi, Justin," Deanna Gillman called out to him with a smile. "Your grandmother's in the sitting room."
He nodded at her with just a ghost of a smile as he walked down the short hallway toward the back of the house. The sitting room was actually a glass-enclosed addition that had been built onto the house after it had been renovated into a nursing facility, and with its bright, sunny interior and its openness to the backyard, it had quickly become a favorite of his grandmother's. While her gardening days were clearly over - she was far too frail now and her bones were too brittle for strenuous activity - she would spend many a day in this room, admiring the variety of flowers and climbing rose bushes that decorated the neatly manicured backyard, maintained and lovingly cared for by one of the other residents who had been a landscaper in an earlier time. Justin often kidded his grandmother that the man, Otis Goldman, was flirting with her, because he often had tea with her in this room and frequently brought her a small bouquet of roses from the garden with the thorns cut off - but she typically would dismiss that notion, preferring to think he was merely being kind.
Nancy Taylor turned her head as her face broke out into a surprised smile. "Justin!" she exclaimed in pleasure as if she was seeing him after a long time, even though it had only been two weeks. "You're here early today! Come and give me a hug!" She held her hands out as Justin walked up to her and did as she asked.
He tried to return her smile as he pulled back to stare into her kindly face, but he suspected he wasn't quite succeeding as he told her softly, "These are for you," placing the bouquet of pink carnations and baby's breath down on a small, round, glass-topped table situated nearby. He noticed without surprise that she had some sort of knitting project she was working on lying there. It was when his grandmother wasn't working on her knitting that he would be worried. When he had first moved to Pittsburgh, one of the first things she had done for him was knit him an ice-blue-and-gray-colored scarf, telling him it would complement his eyes, even though with his motorcycle riding he couldn't really use it all that often. Every time he looked at it hanging on a hook near the front door, however, it filled him with happiness because he knew it had been made with love. How he wished he could feel some of that same happiness right now...
She smiled at him affectionately as he turned to sit down next to her on the couch, clasping his hand in her smaller, bony one. She squinted at him as she eyed him intently. "You look tired, Honey," she commented. "Didn't they have school today?" she asked.
Justin averted his gaze downward in awkwardness; his grandmother may not be as agile physically anymore, but her mind was still sharp as a tack. He should have known she wouldn't miss anything. He also knew he could never lie to her; she had been too good to him to be deceptive. He lifted his gaze to look into her eyes as he told her truthfully, "I didn't sleep at all last night, and knew I wouldn't be very productive today, so I decided not to go to school." He smiled at her fondly. "I decided I'd rather come see you, instead."
She cocked her head slightly to the side and frowned, noticing that her grandson's smile didn't quite go to his eyes. "Well, I'm always glad to see you, Justin; you know that. But what's really going on, Honey? Why do you look so unhappy?"
"I'm not unhappy..." he started to protest, but one look at her piercing, blue eyes and he knew he couldn't keep up that pretense. Instead, his own eyes filled with tears as he bit his lip and turned to gaze out at the wall of windows overlooking the backyard. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he fought to compose himself.
"Justin...?" he heard his grandmother say softly with concern, and he lost it. The tears began to trickle down his face as the wound in his heart opened back up anew, still too fresh and raw.
"Justin!" his grandmother exclaimed in alarm as she watched her grandson's face distort into anguish. "What in the world is going on? Tell me!" Just like when he had been a baby, she pulled him into her arms and he melted into her embrace, seeking the comfort that only she could give him.
"Nana...It hurts so bad..." he stuttered against her chest as he placed his hands around her waist, his tears dampening the pale-green, pearled sweater she was wearing. "I...I thought he really cared about me."
Nancy held onto Justin tightly as her own eyes filled with tears over the mournful sound of her tender-hearted grandson's voice. Someone like him certainly deserved to be loved, especially after what had happened to him with his parents. How her own son could disown someone as kind and sweet as her grandson was unfathomable to her. She pulled back enough to look into the tear-washed eyes to softly say, "Ahh...so this is about another man?"
Justin hiccupped as he nodded; he went to use the back of his sleeve to dry some of his tears, but was stopped as his grandmother reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out an old-fashioned, lace handkerchief. Handing it to him, she asked him gently, "What happened?"
Justin wiped his face with the handkerchief before responding truthfully, "I don't know, Nana! He...he seemed to enjoy being with me and he seemed to care about me; at least until last night."
"Last night?"
Justin nodded as he took a deep breath. "Yeah...we had been together earlier in the night, and when I got home I sent him a text to tell him good night," he explained, not wanting to elaborate too much on just what their activities had entailed. "When he didn't text me right back - like he normally would," he clarified, "I got worried that something was really wrong and went back over to his apartment."
She nodded. "Then what happened?"
"I don't know!" he wailed. "It was as if I were seeing a whole other person. Something happened to him. I found his apartment unlocked and opened the door. He was sitting with his back to the couch with all these cigarette butts and booze lying around, and the loft was a mess. There were broken vases and artwork lying everywhere like he had purposely thrown them down onto the floor to break them! And when I asked him what was wrong...he...he got furious at me and tried to throw me out!"
His grandmother's eyes widened in anxiety. "Did he hurt you, Justin?"
Justin shook his head. "No," he whispered to her. "Not physically, anyway," he explained in a choked voice. To him, that would have been better than the emotional pain he had inflicted.
"You don't know what happened to make him so angry?" she pressed quietly, her demeanor serving to calm Justin down a little as he shook his head no. "Maybe he wasn't mad at you, then," she told him reasonably. "Maybe he was just angry at something else and took it out on you instead."
"All I did was ask about his son...and he just exploded..."
"His son?" she asked curiously. "This man must be older than you."
Justin's face warmed. He wasn't sure how she would react, but he had to be truthful with her. He nodded his head. "Yes," he told her softly. "He's quite a bit older, actually. He has a son by a one-night stand with a woman several years ago. He told me that she had pretty much abandoned his son and he had to raise him by himself. I've never met him...but I can tell by the way that Brian talks about him that he loves him very much. That's why when I saw how upset he was that I naturally thought it must have something to do with him. But as soon as I asked about him, he lost control."
"I'm sorry, Justin," Nancy told him, her face lined with sympathy. "But surely he's calmed down by now. Can't you just go back over there and try to talk to..."
"No," Justin immediately replied. "He doesn't want anything else to do with me." He let out a shaky breath. "He made it abundantly clear to me last night that I was nothing but a...a plaything...to him. Just like some toy that you get for Christmas, get excited over and play with once, and then lose interest in." His eyes filled with tears again as he told her, "How could I have been so stupid, Nana?"
She tenderly wiped Justin's cheeks as she told him sharply, "You are NOT stupid, young man. HE'S the stupid one for treating you this way." She smiled at him. "You will find someone else that knows how to treat you with love and respect, Justin; he isn't worth getting this upset over."
Justin swallowed down his hurt as he shook his head. "I wish it was that easy," he told her. "But...I think I've fallen in love with him. I KNOW I have, because of how much it hurts. It feels like a knife is stuck in my heart right now. How could I have been so wrong about him? I...I really thought he might just love me, too. I thought I made him happy."
"Oh, Honey," she murmured, her own heart breaking over how hurt her grandson was. "It will work out somehow," she assured him. As she pulled Justin back against her chest and slowly rocked him back and forth in her arms just like she did when he was a young child, however, Nancy Taylor found for once that even she didn't believe her own words that were meant to comfort him. Damn you, she silently whispered to herself. Whoever you are...
Not really finding any definitive answers to all the questions still swirling around in his head, but feeling somewhat calmer after visiting with his grandmother, Justin decided to head back home in hopes of finally getting some much-needed sleep. His hopes of doing that, however, were dashed as he pulled up and noticed a familiar-looking Jeep parked nearby. He groaned. Why now? Knowing it couldn't be avoided, though, he took his helmet off and walked over to the boy standing next to the driver's side door.
"Gus...What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise.
Gus eyed Justin intently, noticing the tired creases around his eyes. "You never made it to school after you said you would be there," he explained, still feeling a little awkward after what had happened last night. "I was worried, so I thought I'd better check up on you."
Justin frowned as a sudden realization hit him. "How did you know where I live?"
"I looked you up on the school's attendance computer," he told him sheepishly. "Kayla distracted the secretary by pretending she was suddenly ill and about to throw up. Worked like a charm, too." He grinned. "Actually, she probably WAS a little green around the gills, after everything that happened last night." He expected Justin to at least smile at little at that comment, but instead he merely nodded woodenly back at him. He thought he looked sad; definitely not his normal, assertive self. "What's wrong?" he asked softly as he shuffled his feet. "Is this about...what happened at the party?" he managed to get out as he bit his lower lip anxiously, trying hard not to jump to conclusions. WAS Justin angry at him for some reason? Had he not been at school because he was trying to avoid him on purpose?
Justin shook his head. "No, it's not about you," he assured Gus to his immense relief.
"Then what? Are you okay?" he asked Justin then, his brown eyes wide and expressive as he stared into the other boy's weary-looking face.
"Not really, no," Justin answered honestly, finding he was too tired to avoid the subject altogether.
Gus was bewildered by the change in Justin. He had no idea what had happened; all he knew was that he had to try and help him somehow. Without giving it much thought, he asked him, "You look like you could use a friend. You want me to come up so we can talk? I'm a very good listener," he told him with a smile.
Justin was about to say no, but as he looked into the earnest looking face of his young friend, he decided that maybe he DID need to talk to someone about it; someone who could truly understand. "Yeah...sure," he told him finally. "I'd like that."
Gus looked around Justin's apartment curiously as he took a place on the couch a few minutes later. It was small but tidy, and the way that Justin had arranged the space it was both inviting as well as warm. Various paintings of different sizes were hung throughout the combination living room/kitchen, immediately drawing his eye to them with their vibrancy and uniqueness. "This is a nice place," he told Justin as he sat down next to him.
"Thanks," Justin responded quietly. "Uh...would you like something to drink? I don't have much, but I think I have a few Cokes in the fridge..."
Gus shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I came up here to listen, remember? So tell me what's bothering you. I can tell you're unhappy about something."
Justin hesitated, knowing that Gus still had feelings for him. But there was something in the gentle, brown eyes staring back at him that made him feel like he could confide in him. And after all, he had been very upfront with Gus about their relationship. And he could use a friend right now...
He took a deep breath before beginning, "Well, it's about this guy I was seeing..."
At the word 'was,' Gus's ears perked up. Justin had just used the past tense; that must mean that whoever he had been seeing was history now! Trying hard not to show his elation, he nodded solemnly as Justin began to relate more about this older man he had been involved with. It was painful to hear about how Justin had been attracted to this other guy, but he couldn't help the scowl that appeared on his face as Justin explained how he had been treated by him last night.
"What an asshole!" he growled in disgust as Justin told him about how he had practically thrown him out of his apartment, just for expressing concern over him.
"I...I really thought he cared about me," Justin told him sadly as he sat facing him. "But then...then he told me that I was nothing to him but, and I quote, 'some hot little twink with a hot ass' that he could play with until he lost interest." He pursed his lips together tightly in an attempt to avoid shedding any more tears over Brian; he was NOT going to lose it again and embarrass himself in front of Gus. "Obviously I was wrong about him, though," he added sadly.
Gus fumed inside; both green with jealousy but also angry as hell that someone as beautiful both on the inside as well as the outside as Justin could be treated this way. "Well, I say good riddance," he told him heatedly. "He doesn't deserve someone as special as you," he told him firmly as he reached over without thinking to grasp Justin's hands in his. He shook his head in disbelief. "Justin, how could he treat you that way? You should be treated with respect. You're amazing; you're worth all the stars and the moon combined," he reassured him, unmindful of how poetic that sounded. He was merely speaking from the heart. "If he doesn't see that, then, well, he's just fucking blind..."
At last Justin bestowed a small smile of gratitude on him. "Thank you, Gus," he told him sincerely as he gazed into his friend's eyes. That reference to the heavens above - and how safe and secure that always made him feel when he stared up at the moon and the stars twinkling down at him - reminded him once more of how comforting it felt to know that he wasn't alone in the universe, and it did help to make him feel a little better.
Gus nodded, mesmerized by the vibrant blue of Justin's eyes. "You know I'm here for you anytime," he whispered fervently as he leaned in closer to Justin. Here it comes, he thought, just before his lips met Justin's at last and his heart soared. The moment I've finally been waiting for.