Learning to Love (7/?)
By Carol M.
See first part for details
It's Justin's turn. Enjoy!
Justin's hand swept across the smoothness of the computer screen, the illustrating tool tucked firmly between his fingers. He was working with a plethora of colors; vivid reds, hazy oranges, regal purples, sunny yellows, calming blues, rich greens. He had been working on his project for nearly two hours and couldn't bring himself to stop until it was perfect. Another stroke of green and one final hint of yellow, the masterpiece was complete. And beautiful.
He quickly opened the printer and put in a sheet of the finest paper stock he could afford. A press of the print button and there it was, perfection. Justin admired his work for a moment and then rolled it up and tucked it carefully in his backpack, not wanting to bend the work of art.
He glanced around the loft that for nearly two years had been a place of solace, a place of wonder, a place of love and eventually, a place of heartbreak. Now he felt like just a visitor. He had packed away the last of his stuff from Brian's loft, not truly believing that this was it. Maybe he would be back, as a friend or maybe even as a fuck, but he doubted this place would ever hold the same meaning for him again.
As he took a final glance around the luxurious loft, his gaze focused on the bed, where this whole journey had started. Tears formed in his eyes as he thought back to each and every instance he had been tangled amongst it's fine sheets and black duvet. Good times. No, great times. He would treasure the memories always.
With tears in his eyes, Justin slowly stepped out the apartment with his bags slung over his shoulders. He took care to set the alarm and then pulled the door shut, jumping slightly at the harsh sound of metal hitting metal. He took out his key and with shaking hands, locked the door for one last time. Then he trudged over to the elevator with his shoulders slumped over, dreading what he had to do next.
**
The hospital was bustling with people when Justin arrived 20 minutes later. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he approached the nurse's station, not completely convinced that he could face Brian. In fact, he was sure he couldn't. This had been such a bad idea.
"Can I help you?" asked a blonde-haired nurse with a forced smile.
"Um…Brian Kinney…can you," Justin reached into his backpack and pulled out the rolled up drawing. "Can you give this to him for me?"
"Sweetie, why don't you give it to him yourself? If you haven't noticed, we're a little crazy right now. The last time I checked, Mr. Kinney was sleeping, so you can just pop your head in there and wake him up. Room 235," said the nurse as she got up to assist a small child with a broken arm.
"Thanks," said Justin almost in anger. He took a deep breath and blew it out harshly, stepping away from the desk and glancing down the hall. Slowly he started to walk, feeling as if he were about to face the firing squad instead of visiting the man that he loved. Would always love.
It took Justin nearly five minutes to reach Brian's room, more out of his own stalling tactics then from the actual distance of the room from the nurse's station. Once he was finally at the doorway, he allowed himself another moment to calm his nerves and then once he was ready, abruptly burst into the room, wanting to get the visit over with as soon as possible.
He found Brian curled slightly on his side, his arm still attached against his chest with a sling. He saw that the neck brace had been removed and from the soft mutters of moans and groans, he could tell Brian was suffering because of it. He stepped to the edge of the bed and looked down at the older man, realizing right away that Brian was in the midst of a nightmare. His face was clenched tight in fear and he was shaking like a leaf. He could hear Brian uttering "No," and "Please god," in tiny whispers of panic.
The sight broke Justin's heart. He had only witnessed Brian having a nightmare once before, and that had been right after Justin had moved in with him after the bashing. He had been awoken in Brian's bed by the sound of soft, consistent sobbing. When he had flipped over to look at Brian, he had realized that his lover was still asleep and suffering all of his hurts in a dream world. Instead of waking him up and probably getting the shit kicked out of himself, Justin had simply run his hands along Brian's face, trying to erase some of the hurt. The effect had been almost immediate and Brian had gradually relaxed into a peaceful sleep. He had had no memory of the nightmare the next morning and Justin had never mentioned it.
Now almost a year later, Justin did the same thing, tenderly sweeping his hand across Brian's face. He worked from forehead to jaw line, feeling the sweat of Brian's hair at the top of his head, and the roughness of stubble at the bottom. His hand finished the journey at the top of Brian's nose, stroking away the lines of panic in Brian's tightly furrowed brow.
Again, the effects were almost immediate. Brian's face noticeably relaxed, and he let out a contented sigh. Justin smiled slightly and ran his hand through Brian's hair, trying to memorize every strand. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to Brian's lips, his own lips quivering in sadness and loss. Then he opened up his backpack and unrolled the drawing. He set it down right next to Brian's face. Then came the hardest part of all. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key to Brian's loft. He stared at it longingly for several long seconds, wishing that it hadn't come to this. Then with a deep breath, he set the key underneath the painting, his hand trembling.
"Bye," whispered Justin. He took one last glimpse of Brian and then backed out of the room, his face crumbling into tears before he even got through the door.
TBC