Disclaimer: Don't own it.

I'm a mountain that has been moved.
I'm a river that is all dried up.
I'm an ocean nothing floats on.
I'm a sky that nothing wants to fly in.
I'm a sun that doesn't burn hot.
I'm a moon that never shows it's face.
I'm a mouth that doesn't smile.
I'm a word that no one ever wants to say.

Daisy- Brand New

Chapter One

He wishes he could wash it away. Scrub at his skin until is pink and raw, watch it as it swirls down the drain in the shower. But it's not that easy. Can never be that easy, will never be that easy.

He clenches his eyes shut, tries to picture the beach that he used to go to when he was kid. He barely remembers it, just little things; his hand in his mother's, piggyback rides from his dad. Building sandcastles, the breeze on face, and the heat of the sun burning his skin.

It's his only happy memory that doesn't include Alex.

Justin sighs deeply, opening his eyes reluctantly; he's still in the Sub Station. The chairs are stacked carefully on the tables, the floors reflecting the florescent lighting of his mom and dad's restaurant.

It's quiet here, save for the electric hum of the lights, as it should be at three in the morning. He sits in the back of the restaurant, his knees pulled to his chest as he sits uncomfortably in the booth. He leans his head forward, resting his chin on his knee and cries.

*****

"Mom! I'm so sorry," a ten year old Justin exclaims, Theresa shushes him from the front seat of the cab and brushes her lip against Alex's forehead.

"It's okay, honey," she says gently moments later, he isn't sure if she's trying to comfort him or Alex, but he'll take it.

He watches as the city passes, wills the car to move faster. His sister is hurt and it's his entire fault. He should have been more firm with her. Their parents trusted him to take her safely to the park and bring her back.

He shakes his head and swallows thickly.

The least he could have done was catch her. He even failed at that.

Alex whimpers from the front seat and Justin's stomach clenches. He's suddenly assaulted with images of her swinging back and forth on the monkey bars, the smile spreading across her face when she makes it halfway across. She swung back, reached forward and—

She fell.

He heard it, heard her bone snap. Saw her face pale when she finally made the realization that something was wrong with her body. Her eyes filled with tears and—

Nothing.

She didn't cry. Just pouted, pleaded, "Justin," so quietly and he wasted no time, gathered her in his arms, her arms laced around his neck, "My ankle her hurts," she continued, eyes still wet, "Can you take me home?"

He just nodded and pulled her closer.

He thanked god and hailed Mary on the walk home. He was so thankful that he could finally support her weight.

When they get to the hospital, he's out of the car faster than his mother. He wants to yell for a doctor, demand that someone fixes his sister right now. But he's just a little boy and shy, and being a big brother isn't quite as amazing here, doesn't have the same clout that it does on the playground.

Instead, he pulls back, watches his mother as she fills out all the right papers, watches Alex sulk in their mother's lap.

Later, she's in a bed, her foot in a cast, he sits alone with her, watches as she sleeps; all the pain and sadness gone from her face. Their parents are talking with the doctor, learning all the dos and don'ts of a cast. He listens to them halfheartedly, learning the basics with them.

He studies their shadows through the flimsy curtain that provides privacy for his sister. He turns back to her, tears forming in his eyes. God, he's the reason that she's in here.

He sniffles and wipes at his nose with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Are you crying?" Alex asks, her voice groggy and quiet, but it fills the room, earning his full attention. Her eyes are half open and she tries to sit up in bed.

He sniffles again, shakes his head, he's grateful for the lack of light, she can't see his eyes in here, "No," he answers, "It's just my allergies."

*****

"Dude, what are you doing down here?" Max greets him the next morning.

Justin blinks, taking in his surroundings, he wipes his eyes and studies his watch; it's eight. Oh god, there is a knot in his neck that his the size of Texas, and he is never sleeping in a booth again. "Nothing," he says, he sounds a little pissed, and he sighs, "Sorry, Max. I had a long night. And my neck is killing me."

Max shrugs, "Whatever, man. Want to help me take down these chairs?"

Justin nods, not that he really wants to help, it's his responsibility as a brother, as a son, as a former employee.

He hates obligations.

Max and Justin make steady work of prepping the Station for the day. When they're done, Justin makes his way upstairs, anxious for his bed and a few hours of sleep before he has to be back at Cornell.

"Dude, I told you, table five, it's comfy, right?" He startles at the sound of his sister's voice and tries to hide it.

He rolls his eyes, "No, not really. I slept at table eight."

Alex frowns, her lips pouting and lines appearing on her forehead, "Oh, right. Well, next time, go for five. I promise no neck pain at table five." She smiles innocently and he hates her for a second.

He removes his hand from his neck and walks to the counter, sits in the chair across from her, "Why are you up so early?"

She shrugs and turns away from him, opening the fridge and digging through the contents, "Couldn't sleep, I guess." She murmurs, pushing leftovers around. Seconds later, she's closing the fridge with her foot, a carton of milk in one hand and a pie tin in the other.

"Pie for breakfast?" He asks incredulously, although, it's Alex, he shouldn't be surprised.

She raises her eyebrows, asking him for an argument, he shrugs in return and she nods, opening the silverware drawer and pulls out two forks. She offers him one and he takes it without a word.

She takes her bite first, closing her eyes and moaning in pleasure, "Oh, god," she groans, "I love mom's coconut cream pie, so much." There's a bit of said cream on her lip, the white glaringly obvious against the pink of her lip. She licks it away, her tongue darting out, leaving her lower lip wet.

He swallows thickly and looks down, away from her face. And her lips. Away from the crime that she is.

He scoops some of the pie up on his fork. Studies it closely, inhales the scent of coconut, and savors the smell of the crust that reminds him of sugar cookies and Christmas. He takes a bite. Not quite as enthusiastically as his sister.

"It's good, right?" She asks, her mouth half full, more cream on her lip.

He nods, ignoring her gaze and takes another bite.

Maybe too good.

*****

When he gets back to Cornell, he takes the longest shower he's ever taken. He scrubs so hard. Until it hurts. Until he bleeds.

But all that's mixed with the water is a little swirl of red.

His sin still thick in his pores.


A/N: Thanks for joining me again! I am having so much fun writing from Justin's perspective. But, please, remember, I am girl. So, it may not be that great. All the teenage/twenty year old guys I hang out with are douchebags, so I don't have the best examples for writing Justin, lol. Leave a review, let me know what you think!