Chapter 27
"Justin."
"Mmmmm?"
"I wanna be cremated."
"What the fuck…?"
"Did you hear me? I wanna be cremated."
Silence.
"How many painkillers did you take?"
"Dunno. Three or four."
"Shit, Brian! You know you're supposed to take only two at a time"!
"Brian?"
"Can't help it. Hurts."
Sigh. "I know it hurts…but then you get all drowsy and you talk bullshit."
"It's not bullshit. I really wanna…"
"Be cremated, yeah, I got it."
"And my ashes…spread them all over Liberty Avenue."
"God, that's really morbid. And gross."
"Not gross," Brian mumbled, his hazel eyes half-mast. "This way, every queer at Liberty Avenue would have a piece of Brian Kinney."
"That's not gonna happen," Justin said. "You're not gonna be cremated because you're not going to die."
"You don't know that," he mumbled, already half-asleep. "I may be gone tomorrow, before you wake up."
…
"Shit!"
Justin woke up with a start, sweating, hand on his chest, heart racing, panic coursing through his veins. It took a while for him to realize he was on the sofa in Brian's bedroom at the hospital. He could see that it was already morning, and the silence of the place was only broken by his ragged breathing.
It was a long time since he had a dream about the time when Brian had cancer. That strange conversation they had about Brian wanting to be cremated scared the shit out of him every time he thought about it. So he tried not to. He knew it was a product of an upset and sick Brian with more painkillers than he could handle. But he couldn't stop the shivering that went down his spine.
His eyes traveled to the hospital bed where Brian had been sleeping for two days in a row. Sedated, of course. The incident with Joan left him in a state Justin had never seen before. Brian was all panic and horror at himself, at his own reaction toward his mother. Knowing a little more of Brian's childhood, thanks to Claire, Justin could understand the sheer panic he had seen in Brian's eyes that day: the fear of being violent like Jack Kinney.
While Brian curled in a ball repeating his "oh God" mantra, Claire had ran out of the bedroom and returned with Doctor Schneider and a male nurse, and it took them both and lots of persuasion and soothing words on Justin's part to take Brian from the floor. While a trembling Claire explained the doctor what had happened with Joan's "visit", Justin helped to hold Brian still so the nurse could sedate him. And that was all. Two days ago, and Brian was still sleeping.
Of course he had developed a fever that night, but the doctor told Justin not to worry, it was purely emotional. As if that wouldn't scare the blond more than anything. Brian was perfectly capable to fight every fucking disease life kept throwing at him; he had left the ICU with his sarcasm and his "bad" humor intact. But an emotional breakdown really scared Justin, because he knew that Brian, as beautiful and strong and intelligent as he was, had no way to fight his own demons by himself.
The conversations he had with Claire, who had been there with him practically all the time after what happened, really helped him to understand what he had witnessed between Brian and his mother. Claire told him details about their lives in the Kinney's residence that made Justin flinch even now, merely thinking about them. So, it wasn't a surprise when Doctor Schneider told him that he would keep Brian sleeping for a couple of days. And that he could go home as soon as he agreed to a psychological evaluation.
Justin got up from the improvised bed, running a hand through his hair. He walked toward the window and opened the curtain a little, peering outside. The pale sun that often came on winter mornings told him it was going to be another cold day.
"Don't move. You look beautiful like that," said Brian's voice.
Justin didn't turn around. He just smiled at the comment. "Like what?"
"The sun…it makes your hair shine."
Justin heard the sheets ruffling and a soft groan, indicating that Brian was sitting up on the bed. He repressed the urge to help him; Justin had years of experience that told him that Brian hated to be fussed over. "What's so special about that?"
"Everything about you is special, Sunshine. But right now, you hair is one of the most beautiful sightings in the world."
Justin couldn't contain the bubble of joy inside him anymore. He turned around and ran to Brian's arms, holding him so tight that they almost fell on the bed again. Masks and precautions be damned, he just wanted to feel Brian's arms around him.
"Shit," murmured Brian.
"What?" Just asked, concerned, trying to push back from the embrace, thinking he had hurt Brian.
But Brian's arms didn't let him go, they only held him stronger. "I said something lesbionic…I know I did. To provoke a reaction like that." He chuckled. "And the worst of all is that I just realized it when you made the most perfect imitation of Scarlet O'Hara ever."
"Getting soft, Kinney?" Justin said, resting his chin on Brian's shoulder.
"There's no such word in my vocabulary," Brian answered. "But I'm well known for always saying the truth. So, there's no point in denying it."
"What truth?"
"That you're fucking beautiful, Sunshine. And don't think I didn't realize that you're making me say this again. Just because I said something ridiculously corny, doesn't mean I'm an idiot."
"God forbid," Justin laughed. "I like corny, though."
"Mmmmm. I know." After a while, Brian stated, "You had a nightmare."
"I thought you were sleeping."
"I was. Woke up a while ago…I was thinking about…stuff, you know. Then I saw you tossing and mumbling…didn't want to startle you." Brian shrugged. "Was it bad?"
Of course it was, you were talking about death. "No. And I don't wanna talk about it, okay?"
"You look a little tired. My guess is that you're not sleeping and eating enough."
Justin chuckled. "Look who's talking."
"You've been having nightmares again. Since when? About what?" asked Brian in his protective mode around Justin.
Since you almost died, you moron. Nightmares where I'm losing you forever. "I don't remember."
"Liar," Brian said chuckling. "I know you."
"Okay…I had a nightmare about the time you said you wanted to be cremated, when you had cancer."
"There you go again. I already told you…I never said that."
"Oh, yes, you did."
"How come I don't remember?"
"Hum…because you took such a large amount of painkillers that you didn't have a clue of what you were doing or saying?"
"Okay, let's change the subject."
Justin smiled silently. Brian was no match for him in any argument. Not now, not ever.
They stayed like that for a while, neither too inclined to move. Justin's hands started to caress Brian's back under the t-shirt he was wearing. The older man hummed in approval and held the blond tighter, if it was possible.
"We shouldn't be this close, you know, I don't want you to get this fucking disease." Brian said.
"Yeah," Justin answered, not moving even an inch away from the brunet. "But I missed you. Besides, you're already on medication. A couple of weeks and you'll be as god as new."
Brian sighed and inhaled deeply. "Mmmm, I missed the smell of your hair. God, I miss all of you. Do you have any idea of how badly I want to kiss you?."
Justin groaned. "Don't talk like that. I can't even think about your kiss without getting hard."
"Shit, Justin, now I'm the one getting hard," Brian complained, and they were so close that Justin knew it was true. Well, Brian Kinney never disappointed as far as sex was the task at hand. "The fucking problem is in my lungs, but my dick is perfect, as always."
Justin chuckled. "How are you feeling?" he finally asked.
Brian's hands traveled to the small of Justin's back. "Besides this?" he asked, indicating the obvious bulge visible through the hospital gown. "Like I have a major hangover…like I spent the night drinking really bad whiskey. Head is pounding. Nothing new."
"It must be the medicine," Justin said, trying his best to avoid the word 'sedative'. He didn't know how much Brian remembered and he had no intention to spoil the peaceful and intimate moment. Besides, Brian was in a good mood, so his headache wasn't that bad.
After a few seconds Brian replied, "You mean the sedatives."
Justin stiffened in Brian's arms. But Brian caressed his soft golden hair, saying, "Relax, Justin. I'm not gonna freak out now, I'm fine."
"You sure?" Justin wanted to know, still tense, unable to forget the scene from two days ago.
"Yeah." A sigh. "When I woke up I started to think…I don't know what happened to me, why I acted like that…I guess Joan always inspires my…"best" reactions, she really has a gift." He sighed again." Don't make me repeat this, but…I'm…sorry you had to witness that."
Justin actually gave a step back, looking at Brian's eyes, not wanting to believe the word he just heard. "Did you just say sorry?"
"Hey, I said don't make me repeat it! Don't turn me into a twat; being a twat it's your job."
Justin slapped Brian's arm lightly. "Hey!"
"Come here," Brian said, holding Justin closer again. "I'm a fag, but I'm still a man. And a man needs to admit it when it's true. I never wanted you to see that. It was…ugly."
"No shit," Justin murmured surprised that Brian was willing to even talk about the fact that he had lost control. He didn't want to press on his luck, though. An open Brian was something rare, and Justin wondered if Brian was still half sleeping. He changed his mind when Brian's hand travelled to his buttocks, squeezing them gently.
"So," Brian said, clearly changing the subject and smiling when Justin yelped. "When will they let me out of this shithole?"
Justin took a deep breath. Disentangling himself from Brian's embrace, he walked to the window and opened the curtains widely. "Better to take out to let the sunshine in. This place needs a little light. You look pale."
"Justin," Brian said, getting up from the bed. He was feeling a little dizzy, but fuck if he was going to remain one more second lying down like a fucking invalid.
"Mmmmm?" Justin asked, not really wanting to tell Brian anything that would spoil his apparent good mood, especially after what had happened…but already knowing he would.
"What exactly are you not telling me?" Brian asked. Justin wasn't the only one who could read him. The blond's reaction told him there was more shit coming his way…if that was even possible. "What the fuck is the problem now?"
Justin turned to him and looked at his eyes, silently asking him to understand, to agree.
"Justin…?"
"They had to sedate you."
"I think I figured out that part by myself, thank you," Brian said dryly , arching an eyebrow.
"You were out for two days. So…the doctor told me he'll let you go only if you agree to a psychological evaluation."
"WHAT?" Brian gave a step backwards, his chin almost dropping to the floor. "Not even in your dreams!" he said angrily.
"But Brian…" Justin started.
"Don't 'but Brian' me, Justin." He started to pace the room, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
"Brian, calm down." Justin said. There it was. The reaction he had been waiting for.
"Calm down? You're not the one been treated like a fucking lunatic! This doctor has no right to make me do anything I don't want to! Who the hell does he think he is?" Brian stopped in front of Justin, face turning red.
Justin didn't flinch, didn't back away. He knew that if there was someone capable of calling Brian on his bullshit, that person was him, Justin Taylor. So he mustered his best matter-of-fact tone.
"He's your doctor, Brian. The one who helped me and Claire to pick you from the floor when you were having a breakdown; the one who sedated you, who stood by your side almost the whole night while you were burning with a fever that he believed to be 'emotional'. The one who found out that you're NOT dying of cancer, who treated you while you were in the ICU, and if we're here having this conversation now, with you all in one piece, it's mostly because of his effort."
"Shit." Was all that Brian managed to say after Justin's outburst.
"Yeah, shit. Now, stop being an asshole and respect his opinion. If he thinks you need a psychological whatever, I believe he has his reasons."
"It's not that I don't respect his opinion," Brian said in a softer tone. "But to have a fucking shrink analyzing me…'Tell me about you past, Mr. Kinney. How was your childhood?' he said in falsetto. "Fuck if I'll do it."
"Yes, you will," Justin snapped. "You will, because I never want to see you like that again. I'm fucking tired of this hospital, and I want you to go home with me." Then, in the soft voice he knew Brian loved, "Please, Brian… do it, and we'll get out of here the next day."
Brian grimaced and poked his cheek with his tongue. Opening his arms, he dropped them, helpless. "You've already decided everything, didn't you? I guess I have no choice, then."
Justin knew he had won. Relieved, he walked to Brian and hugged him again, resting his head on Brian's chest. "Thank you," he murmured.
"You're bossy, you know that?" Brian asked, kissing Justin's hair.
"But you love it." When Brian didn't deny it, Justin smiled, but then looked at Brian worriedly.
"What?" asked the older man.
"You agreed to easily," he said, looking suspicious. He had expected to see Brian raging about the fact that he had to see a psychiatrist. Brian had once told him he thought it was all bull shit. "I hope you're not planning on running away from the hospital like you did a couple of months ago."
"Fucking Theodore and his big mouth," Brian complained.
"He just wanted to help."
Brian didn't say anything for a while, but Justin could almost see his mind working, and braced himself for what was going to come next.
"You don't need to stay here at the hospital all the time, Justin," Brian said, sighing.
And Justin understood why Brian had agreed with the shrink with just a little arguing from his part: because, once again, he thought that he was making Justin "suffer" or something like that, as if it was bad for Justin to stay by his side. So Justin made sure he put all the conviction he already felt in his voice, before he answered. "Yes, I do."
"You don't." Brian shook his head. "You should…hell, I don't know. You have your life to live, you shouldn't waste…"
"Don't, Brian. Just don't. Now it's not the time to talk about this. I'm doing exactly what I want, and if I stay here, it's because I want to be with you. So I would appreciate it if you let me do what I want just once. My life is with you, my place is here. This subject is not open for discussion. Unless you don't want me here."
Brian tightened the embrace again. "Bossy bottom. And I'm supposed to be the lunatic here," he said. Then his voice dropped to a whisper. "How the hell would I not want you with me, you twat, when you're…everything?"
Justin chuckled, but felt tears in his eyes at Brian's admission. "I love you too," he replied. Brian didn't answer. There was no need to, Justin already knew how he felt. There was no hiding anymore.
--------------------------------------
"Mr. Kinney…"
"Brian."
Dr. Meredith Carter sighed again, taping her pen against Brian's file. "Very well. Brian. I thought you had agreed to do this."
"I said I would see a shrink. I'm seeing you, am I not?" Brian asked sarcastically.
"Well, at least I can write in my report that you have the ability to talk." If he wanted sarcasm, he was going to have it. Not a very professional attitude, she thought, but she needed something to make the amazingly beautiful but terribly stubborn man react. She had a kind of sixth sense that told her this one really needed help.
Brian rested his head on the wall near the armchair where he was currently sitting. He had refused to lie down and he had refused going to the psychiatrist's office in a wheelchair. Hospital's rules be damned. When the nurse who took him to the session replied that he was sitting on the doctor's chair, he looked at the petite woman defiantly, but Dr. Carter didn't even bat an eye. She calmly sat on the sofa, crossed her legs and adjusted her glasses.
He tried to remember again why he had agreed to do this. Apparently, doing what Justin wanted wasn't always pleasant, he thought. He still tried to change his mind after he said he would go, but Justin informed Brian that if he didn't go and he didn't behave, he could say farewell to the blond's ass for the next six months, treatment or no treatment. Judging by the frown in Justin's forehead, Brian decided to do what the young man wanted. An angry Justin Taylor was something that even Brian didn't like to face.
"Look," said the doctor, "I know you don't want to do this. And frankly, if this is how it's going to be, neither do I. I have people here who really need my help, and being here with you for the last twenty minutes without a word is a complete waste of…"
"So why don't you just let me go?" Brian snapped.
"Because my colleague asked me to see you, and knowing him, I know he had a good reason."
"You can write down there that I'm completely normal and I'll leave you alone in no time."
The doctor smiled politely. "No, I can't. Because you're acting like a five-year-old child, and in my opinion, something like that coming from a thirty-seven year old man…"
"Thirty six."
"…thirty six, whatever…is far from normal. And I don't have the habit of lying in my reports."
He glanced at her stubbornly again. She was beautiful, a petite woman in her mid-thirties, but had the most serious and determined expression he had seen in a long time. If he was straight – and he frowned in disgust at the thought – he wouldn't want to be her husband.
"Well, if you don't want to talk, fine by me," she said. "Same time tomorrow." Meredith Carter got up from the sofa, put the pen and the papers on her desk and walked to the door, clearly dismissing him.
"Tomorrow?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You really don't expect it to be that easy, do you? I have all the time in the world. Tomorrow, and the day after, and the other…until you start to talk, so I can fill my report and tell Dr. Schneider that you're not a danger to yourself and to the others." She smiled again. "Good afternoon, Brian."
He didn't get up. "I'm not a danger to anyone," he said, annoyed, fidgeting with the collar of is shirt.
The woman put her hands on her hips. "Well, I can't tell that just by looking at you. I'm not a mind reader."
"Fine," he said, gritting his teeth. "You keep saying you want me to talk. What the hell I'm supposed to talk about?"
"You can start with the breakdown," she said casually, walking toward the sofa, but this time she didn't grab her pen or Brian's file.
"I didn't have a breakdown," he said impatiently. "That was just…people over reacted, that's all."
Meredith raised both her eyebrows this time, looking at him pointedly. "You don't give up, do you?" she asked, the left corned of her mouth raising a little.
Brian half-smiled. "Never," he said. "Neither do you." He liked smart and stubborn people.
"So what do you call what happened?"
"There was a…disagreement between me and my…mother," he finally hissed.
"Oh. And Dr. Schneider was passing by and thought it was a good idea to sedate you, then called me so we could meet each other." She looked at him pointedly. "How lovely."
He grimaced. "Look, It's no big deal, okay?" he said, throwing is hands to the air. "I hate her, she hates me. She is a frigid bitch, who thinks I'm going to hell and that I deserved cancer, tuberculosis and any other fucking disease you can think of."
"I see. When did your relationship with your mother started to take this direction?"
Brian sorted. "Since I was born. They didn't want me, she told me that. My father wanted her to get an abortion, but her religion didn't permit such a sin. So she locked herself in her bedroom while my father, who was a drunken failure, had the habit to beat the shit out of me anytime he wanted. And no, he didn't molest me, that's not the reason why I'm homosexual. Satisfied?"
"It's a start," she said. "But I'm not here to judge you, Brian. That's not the reason why we're having this conversation."
"I really don't care what your opinion about me is. Believe me, you wouldn't be the first to say I worth less than shit." His words were defiant, but there was no anger in his voice, just sadness.
"What happened that day to trigger the reaction you had? Do you remember?"
"Of course I remember. It was the way she talked to Justin, the way she looked at him. The same way she used to look at me, before I started to earn real money. She looked at him…like he was worthless. I don't care what she thinks about me, but Justin…he's the best person I know, and fuck if I'll let her treat him like she and Jack treated me."
"Jack?"
"My father. He's dead, the son of a bitch."
"So you and he didn't get along either"
"That's an understatement." Brian shifted on the chair, uncomfortable. "Do we really have to talk about this?" He looked around, as if looking for a way to escape.
For the first time she allowed herself a sympathetic smile towards him. "I'm afraid we do."
"I'm not sure I can do this, I would kill for a cigarette right now." He raised his hands before she could speak. "Oh, I already know I can't smoke, doc, so save your time."
"That's right, you can't." She gave him a small smile and raised her eyebrows at him. "Well?"
He sighed. "You have unconventional methods, did you know that?"
"Well, I'll take that as a compliment."
"I'm not sure it is," he mumbled. "How can I spill my guts to you? I don't even know you."
"Don't you see that's exactly why you can say whatever you want? I'm not your friend. You don't owe me anything. I don't have a pre-conceived opinion about you, so I won't judge anything you tell me. Try to see me as a mirror. I will throw back at you anything you show me, without any kind of subterfuges. Just the plain and simple image you show me. Talk to me as if you're talking in front of a mirror. It's you who's going to take your own conclusions about yourself, not me."
Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he was feeling uncharacteristically shy. He knew he had no way out of this, and he cursed inwardly at Justin, at the fucking doctor, at the disease and whoever else he could think of, for putting him in a situation like this. "Shit. Okay, but I'm warning you…I'm not one to choose words around anyone, and I have a vast repertoire of fucked up things that…I'm not even sure I can repeat half of them."
"Don't worry. Take your time. We're not in a hurry here…you're not on trial. And I think I can manage a few curses."
…………………………………..
Justin was drawing again. He had started to draw again since Brian was in the hospital, at first just to pass the time, but now it was almost like a compulsion. He drew everything he saw, mostly people from the hospital. The patients and their families.., some of them smiling, some crying, some just hopeful. The staff…the doctors and nurses' determinate faces, sometimes tired, sometimes sad, sometimes concerned. But most of all he drew his extended family, and Brian.
Strangely, his hand didn't hurt as much as it did before. When he was in New York, he had tried to draw, but he never could do it for too long. These days, however, it was easier. Of course it hurt, the cramps were still there. But then he looked at the people around him, and somehow the burden some of them carried seemed so bigger than the problem with his hand…and looking at Brian, fighting for his life – even if it sounded lame and dramatic to others, that's exactly what was happening – made his problem so small, that he realized that, despite the physical injuries he had, part of his problem was in his head. So he already had his sketchbook almost full of drawings. It made him feel good about himself, like he had out stepped a major obstacle.
It was afternoon and Brian was in the psychiatrist's office for an hour and a half now. Part of Justin was worried, part of him relieved. He knew they would go home soon. He and Brian still had a lot of ground to cover, he knew that. But going home was the first step to what he hoped was something new. If he and Brian could go through the serious talk they needed to do. Justin was a little apprehensive about when would be the best time to do it, especially after the scene with Joan. He wasn't afraid of Brian, of course, but he didn't want to put him in distress before he was fully healed. Whether 'fully healed' meant physically or emotionally…that remained to be seen.
The door opened and Brian stepped into the room, followed by Nurse Helen. She seemed to have grown fond of Brian, despite his constant complaints about almost everything. As for Justin, judging by the way she always brought him hot coffee and little snacks in the middle of the night, she was fond of him too.
"See?" he said, looking annoyed. "No need for the wheel chair again."
"It's hospital procedure, you know," she rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "I already let you go to the session in your own clothes. That's more than breaking the rules around here."
"As if I would go anywhere in that ridiculous dress."
"That's not a dress."
"Even so, it's terrible."
"Don't worry, you look cute anyway," she said smiling and winking at Justin. "See you tomorrow, boys."
"Hey Sunshine," Brian said, looking at Justin.
"You look tired." Justin held Brian's hand briefly as the brunet passed by his side.
"I feel like a train had just run over me."
"How's the doctor? Is she nice?"
"There's no such thing as a "nice" psychiatrist, Justin. Damn woman, she could work for the CIA. She has a way of making you talk…it's almost infuriating, before you know it you're telling her the name of your teddy bear."
"I didn't know you had a teddy bear," said Justin teasingly.
"It's just an example, twat. "Brian threw himself on the bed with shoes and all. "I perfectly recall Mother Taylor saying you had a teddy bear named Gus." He smiled a little, but Justin could see Brian was a little too quiet for his taste. "And put your fucking mask on, we already pushed your luck too much for today."
"Okay." Better not argue with a cranky Brian. "Did she say you could go home?"
Brian made a face. "She said I'm ready to go, but she wants to see me again."
"That's good."
Brian looked at Justin like he had turned green with pink dots. "Good? What's good about seeing a shrink, for Christ's sake?"
"Um…n-nothing." Justin stammered. But since she said so, maybe you should…"
"She also said it's my choice. I'm not in dire need of therapy." He frowned. "And I told her I'm not coming back here, ever."
"Except for your check-ups."
"Yeah, except for that." Brian yawned.
Looking at him, Justin saw his eyes almost closing. "Do you want something from the cafeteria?"
"No, thanks. I guess I'm gonna sleep a little, if you don't mind."
"Go ahead."
Brian stayed quiet for a while, than closed his eyes. "Justin?" he finally asked.
"Mmmm?" Justin asked distractedly, already sketching again.
"You're gonna stay here?"
Justin had briefly entertained the idea of going home, but had already changed his mind. He had brought spare clothes, anyway. And now, hearing the almost pleading tone behind Brian's apparent nonchalance, he knew he had made the right decision.
"Of course I will," he said. "I'm not leaving this place without you."
"Good," Brian murmured, sighing contently and sleeping almost instantly.
