Sunrise over Pittsburg (After sleeping with Justin for the first time since bashing)
What the hell was that? Whatever it was, I'm thinking I'd like to do it again, and soon.
I've imagined this endless times, though I never thought I'd ever get it. I certainly don't deserve it. Him, nestled tightly against my chest.
I find myself relishing in his heartbeat and the sound of his breaths. It's the most beautiful sound in the world. He's here. He's safe. He's alive.
After my sun set too quickly nearly two months ago, I knew I'd never have him again. I knew (as sure as I knew anything) he was better off without me. I knew (I knew it in my bones) that I'd never again bask in the warmth of his smile.
I knew nothing.
The little shit never ceases to surprise me.
I can't recall how long I remained in the same uncomfortable seat I took that first night in the hospital. It Could have been three days. It Could have been 3 years. In truth, It seemed to me all time stopped anyway. There was no minute worth counting until he woke up.
I went to visit, well OK so I didn't exactly visit. He never knew I was there.
I just had to see him, get irrefutable evidence that he was still there. I don't know, maybe it was the drugs thinking but I was never completely convinced that he wouldn't vanish if I wasn't there to see him with my own eyes.
So, every fucking night I leered at him like a pathetic stalker, too cowardly to announce my presence. How badly I wanted to rush to his side and just touch him. Anyway I could. Trace his lips with my finger, slightly brush my hand through his hair, kiss his cheek. Christ. I just needed to feel him. I never did.
I caught an unbelievable amount of hell from everyone about it too. Believe me. I would just have to endure it when they all yelled at me for never visiting. They didn't need to know that I was already the volunteer night watchman of Allegheny General Hospital. I'm not one to risk an opportunity for a goddamn life evaluating lecture. It was my burden to bear. Alone.
Two weeks into this nightmare, the sun had once again risen over Pittsburg. Justin was awake.
There is no word yet in existence, that could describe the relief I felt that day. Not that he knew. He never would. It may sound crazy but knowing he was awake made me that much more determined to avoid him.
I was more than certain that I couldn't handle looking into his eyes. Those fucking beautiful eyes. I was afraid of what I might see.
What if they no longer held love for me? Worse yet, What if they did?
Admittedly it hurt, really fucking hurt, each time I was told that Justin had been asking for me. Why? After everything I had done to him, all the ways I had hurt him. Why did he still want to be near me? Stupid kid. I will always be the very last thing that's good for him, health related or otherwise.
Whenever I heard that he'd asked why I hadn't come to visit him, I went to Babylon.
Drugs. Liquor. Sex. Every one of these vices exuded freedom like a beacon in the night. I just wanted to feel free. Release myself from this prison of guilt, pain and even Pity.
In general I behave like a drugged out club boy when I want best to numb myself of emotion. This was no exception. I just wanted to drink and fuck my way into oblivion. So why didn't it work this time?
The effects of the drugs & alcohol never lasted long enough to veer my thoughts away from the blond in the hospital bed. No trick satisfied. If anything, each fuck left me feeling even more frustrated. None of these men were Justin. No. I can only conclude that perhaps it's because I was already numb to begin with.
My soul is damaged goods.
Though I'm ridiculously elated that he's back with us, (Well not with me. He's back where he belongs; in a world untarnished by my disastrous touch) I'm genuinely worried about what he's lost. They say that he has nerve damage in his hand, diminishing his motor skills. Fuck. His beautifully talented hands.
He always appears so brave, but I'm terrified for all that he doesn't say. I want to silence the doubt I'm certain is swirling in his mind. His doubts about his art. I however, have no such doubt. Justin can draw blind folded with one hand and still impress the hell out of me.
I remember the drawing I purchased the night of his first showing. It was so extraordinary. Though it was a sketch of me, I hardly recognized myself. Not because of the quality of the work, but because of the quality of his subject. Justin truly has always seen something in me no one else does. Especially me.
I had finally begun to master the art of avoidance, when he showed up at Woody's the night he was released. Holy shit. I have never been more dumfounded in my life. I was completely thrown off my game. Downright fucking Terrified. In that moment I stopped breathing, and I'm pretty damn sure my heart literally ceased to beat.
That night he told me he couldn't remember the events of prom. The magic of that night I have so often lulled myself to sleep envisioning…twirling him in my arms, kissing him in front of everyone; showing someone besides him for a change that I was content to be beside him…all of it. Gone.
OK, I'll tell you. That really broke my heart. Well, no. I mean, it sure as hell stung quite a bit.
Being the intuitive little twat he is, he concluded instantly that I held fully the burden of blame. The sweet asshole even reached out to me & told me it wasn't my fault. He was consoling me. Justin Taylor. Truly one of a fucking kind.
After Jennifer told me she didn't want me to see him anymore. I thought , OK someone else realizes I'm the last thing he needs. I actually told her that I cared about him. I know. For me that's a big admittance. She reassured me that she believed me. I believed me too. This was a first.
Though I understood completely, this too stung quite a bit.
Especially after I forced myself to turn him away. He showed up at my door wearing a smile I wanted to lick off his face (slowly) & pleading desperation in eyes. I wanted nothing more than to pull him into the loft and fuck him senseless.
Instead, after proudly informing me that despite his newfound anxiety he had fought (with everything he had) to come and see me. I don't deserve him. I practically slammed the door in his face.
Feeling an emotion I couldn't quite identify, I rested my head on the closed door. I imagined him standing there on the other side. Though just a foot away, that foot felt infinite. I closed my eyes and let out an empty sigh. I could picture him, tears streaming down his beautiful face. As I stood there, forced to ignore my heaven under water, my eyes too, began to rain.
Fuck. What this boy does to me.
It was for the best. I agreed with Jen to exit his life. Of course I know now, that distancing myself from Justin Taylor is a far more difficult task that I had ever intended it to be.
Apparently Justin already knew what Jen & I didn't. This was quickly learned when she told me to "take him". She explained just how bad his anxiety issues were. Helplessly she told me about his nightmares, and his fear to let anyone near him.
I wanted nothing more than to be near him then. Would he let me? The thought of him cringing from my touch made me slightly nauseous.
My worst fear was realized when he cried out a little and indeed, told me to stop. The nausea returned, as did that stubborn sting.
What do you do when the very thing you want the most is the very thing you can't have? I wanted to hold him. I wanted desperately to repair all that I had broken.
After learning that I could possibly help him to unlock his memories, I needed to try. I had to do something. Brian Kinney doesn't do helpless.
Daphne is so great. I'm beginning to think I love her a little. She'd been more than eager to try and help me recreate prom night. Just listening to her retell it from her point of view made me smile. She was right. It had all been so amazing. Sadly, Justin was ultimately unable to share our recreated bliss.
I decided I had to up the ante'. Going back to that parking garage, was more difficult than I'll ever admit. I tried my best to put on my brave mask for Justin's sake. From the moment I exited the jeep, I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. The echo of that night resounded from ever direction. I felt weak, and a little sick.
Glancing at Justin, I saw that he was lost in thought. Undoubtedly trying to remember something. Anything. Though I'm still unsure of how I was able to find the words. I recounted the events with him. He Didn't remember any of it. My insides quaked and I couldn't help feeling a little angry.
I hate myself for the brief bout of fleeting anger. Well, it was more a feeling of resentment I suppose. Either emotion makes me an asshole. Christ. I was just so frustrated. Why did I have to carry the crushing weight of those horrendous memories alone? It wasn't fair.
Fair? It wasn't fair that Justin could no longer draw the way he used to. It wasn't fair that such an outgoing person was now terrified to even go outside. Fair Kinney? I really am an ass.
It's just…How could he not remember something so unforgettable?
I almost completely broke down. I was determined not to let him see me cry. He would feel guilty for causing me to be upset. I know he would. He's Justin.
Backwards as he may be, he's a bleeding heart to the core. Despite my best efforts to remain unscathed, I trembled, and broke my words.
Then he was there. Once again he was consoling me.
That damn heart stinging was in full effect.
Despite my best efforts to get him to skip Gus' birthday, he insisted he was going. Who was I to argue? (I can never say no to that cute wrinkled thing he does with his nose.) With the hectic crowd , I thought it best to keep Justin at my side at all times. Yes. I even held his hand. A lot.
After I saw Gus starting to swing that miniature memory, I instinctively tensed. I was both worried and hopeful that perhaps the toy bat would bring something back. My heightened awareness of Justin, allowed me to catch him the moment the memory assaulted him. For once, I was there when he needed me.
He had remembered my calling his name. According to him, it's my warning that saved him. I'm not sure how. I didn't stop it from happening. He's treating me like I'm some sort of savior. I'm no hero.
Doesn't this man see that he is constantly saving me? Mostly from myself.
After he recounted his brief memory, he kissed me. Really kissed me. I'll tell you, I was filled to the brim with 'high school girl giddiness'. I can't help it.
Then he found it. I became rigid, but relaxed and let him draw from it, whatever conclusions he would.
I have worn the scarf under my clothes every day since that night. I even sleep with it. Pathetic? Probably. I don't fully understand my own reasoning behind it.
I guess if I had to try and explain it, I'd thrown out something like 'guilt'. Well, maybe 'guilt' isn't the best word.
How about, I didn't think it was fair that only Justin had to be constantly reminded of that night. The thought of him waking up in that goddamn hospital room , everyday, immediately reminded of why he was there made me physically ill. I too would endure a constant recap.
That might not be exactly it either.
I guess maybe a part of it is simply that I wanted him close to me. I was convinced I'd never be near him again. I thought that he would hate me. Perhaps it was my vain attempt to feel him. Have him close to my heart.
Fuck. I don't know. All I do know is that I couldn't face the world without that scarf around me.
I was more than grateful that Justin didn't ask me to explain my reasons. He knows me better than I do.
I just wanted him to be Justin again. I wanted him to let me touch him. I wanted him to want me to.
He did. He still wanted me.
After all that he has gone through, everything he has endured. I honestly don't understand why. Hair of the dog and all of that I suppose.
Though a deep seeded responsible part of me protested my getting close to this boy again, the other parts of me told it to 'shut the fuck up'.
His soft pleading whisper inviting me to take him, induced a cold shiver like nothing I've ever felt before. It found it's way to every nerve in my body.
I've never, never wanted anyone more than I did at that moment. ( & I've had more than my share of 'anyones.')
Which brings me back to…
What the hell was that? Whatever it was, I'm thinking I'd like to do it again, and soon.
That was definitely NOT Fucking. It sure as shit wasn't simply sex. Maybe? Was it actually making lo-. Don't finish that sentence Kinney.
No, it was goddamn incredible. Justin was so tender, it actually made me ache to be just as gentle in return. I never want to break him again.
I had so many emotions stirring within me, and surprisingly not just in my cock. I know. Pathetic? Perhaps.
So, I guess we both just got a little caught up in the emotional aspect of the past month. The un-fucking-believable feeling of being with each other for the first time in too long.
(I can't help but mention that it is the 'anniversary' for lack of a less lesbionic word, of the night I first met Justin. Our first time together.)
Of course, that's it.
It was an emotional outpour spawned from prolonged sexual absence. Yeah, that sounds good. It was a fuck, albeit a tender fuck. Just call me 'Dr. spin'.
Christ. Even I'm unconvinced.
Better hide your heart Kinney. Lock that fucker away.
Once you start to love him , you know you'll never stop.
Just a 'tender fuck'.
I wish I could believe me.