Justin Comes Home

Chapter 13

POV JUSTIN

I sit out here on the bench, smoking and thinking. And worrying. I get up and start to pace around, ignoring the melee around me as ambulances rush up and loaded gurneys are rushed past me into the ER. It’s gotten really cold and with my cigarette in my mouth, I rub my hands together to get warm. I only have my tee shirt on, but right now, I’m beyond caring.

Fuck. What’s happened and is happening starts really sinking in. I’ve been squelching my feelings as best I can- to get through each minute: waiting to rescue Brian; then waiting in the ambulance as it rushes at what seems like a snail’s pace to get to the hospital, whispering and yelling at the mangled man- my lover- this near carcass-yelling at him to survive, that I love him, to hang on; then waiting in that stupid, sterile room to hear if Brian will live or die; then trying to not show the horror I feel when I see him bandaged up from head to toe for the first time- even if he is still beautiful; then trying to be strong for him as he lies there helpless and hurting… I've been trying to stay strong, keep my emotions down, away from the surface...

I flick the cigarette butt away and burst into tears. “Oh, fuck…” I manage to nobody but myself. Then I start running. I run down the hospital entrance driveway and keep running, bawling like a wus. Shit oh shit oh shit….. ‘I almost lost him! I almost lost him!’ I keep chanting this to myself in sync with each footfall as I run blindly with no destination in mind. Then I start crying harder as the thought enters my mind, ‘*Did* I lose him? *Did* I lose him? *Did* I lose him?’

Can we make it through this? Will we? I’ll stick with him until the end- I won’t even let him push me away no matter *how* hard he tries- but will he still be Brian? My Brian? I mean, he's acting like my Brian right now, but this hasn't fully hit him yet, I know it... The man has been through more than I could ever imagine… I saw him chained to Ethan’s bed, blood everywhere; when the fucking fiddler shot him in the hip, I saw chips of his bones fly out with the impact, all a huge disgusting splash that looked like a red, sinister, blooming flower of blood and bone as the bullet hit its mark in Brian’s living body.

I stop running, lean over and throw up… Seeing the image of the only love I’ll ever know mangled beyond recognition bearing even more excruciating pain as his hip is obliterated.

How could he possibly be the same man anymore? The bashing I endured was nothing compared to this horror- and still, I was completely different afterwards.

I never resented Brian for the bashing although he blamed himself for it. I don't believe for a second that our dance at the prom prompted Hobbs to bash me- but even on the very slight chance it did, Brian showed up as a demonstration of his love, to make me happy- his motive was from his heart.

In this situation, there is no reason at *all* for Brian not to blame me! I left Brian for Ethan-- hardly a demonstration of my love for him. Ethan, who soon was beating me. And without a qualm, Brian took me back in, protected me- protected me by taking a bullet for me; then soon after, by being mangled, tortured for three days… all at the hands of the maniac I left him for- left him for in front of all of Liberty Avenue-- at a party he was throwing for *me*. Fuck I feel like dying...

All the hospital personnel are amazed and say he should have been dead after the first day of Ethan's torture. But he’s alive. He’s the strongest soul on earth- so that doesn’t surprise me. But will it ever be the same between us? We love each other always, even if he doesn’t say it. But I’m not sure love’s enough for Brian.

Had I gone through what Brian’s been through at the hands of a man he’d left me for… I don’t know how I’d be able to see Brian the same way. I don’t even know if I would see him the same way if he’d left me for someone else – the way I did him. And again, I did it in front of all of Liberty Avenue. Essentially, I humiliated him. Not on purpose, really, but I knew what I was doing. Istill loved him with all my heart, but I was fucked up.

And yet, again: Brian didn’t think twice about taking me in after finding me at McDonald’s, bruised and battered by the man I’d left him for.

And now I’ve hurt him again. To the point that for years, he will working on trying to get a life back- psychologically, physically, emotionally… all because of me.

I look up after heaving so long, it feels my insides are trying come up- escape me. I can’t blame them, my insides. I’m curled in on myself on the grass in some field I don’t know; my hands support my upper body but they are pooled in my vomit which is oddly warm but the smell makes me start heaving again- nothing comes out; I roll to my side to get away from the smell.

Shakily, I stagger to my feet, tears in my eyes from crying and from the effort of dry heaving. There’s a pond nearby and I stumble over and collapse to my knees by the water and rinse my filthy hands off. I’m quaking so hard I can hardly rub my hands together. It’s starting to get dark and even colder. The mud and frigid water from the waterside seep into my jeans. I curl up on my side in the mud, not caring. My teeth chatter and I look at the moonlight reflecting off the surface of the pond.

Fuck. When everything hits me like a ton of bricks, it sure does hit me like a ton of bricks. My mind’s eye refuses to stop flashing between all of the terrible images I’ve witnessed in the last few days and my stomach refuses to stop clenching painfully; I wrap my arms around myself trying to keep myself from completely imploding; because despite all of this, I have to be here for Brian.

Despite all of this… I *have* to. Just like he’s always been there for me.

I hear footsteps sloughing through the grass towards me and I curl up even tighter in fear. So, this is how I’ll die. Killed in the mud. I have to fight back for Brian’s sake- I have to live at least until Brian’s better… I try to move, but I’m so cold, so sore from throwing up for so long…

“Justin.”

Huh? “Brian?” My voice is hoarse and comes out barely as a whisper.

“Justin, get the fuck up and get your ass back into the hospital, clean up and get warm. What a fucking twat, lying for hours in the freezing mud and water with only a teeshirt and jeans on! Fuck me, I thought you were smarter than this!” He scolds. “Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Brian!?” I force myself to stand, although it hurts like hell and takes a few attempts. “Oh, Brian… I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you! I love you so much! I wish I could take your place!” I whisper.

“Shut up and do as I told you. Get yourself back, get warm, get clean. Do it before I kick your ass.”

I look over and no one’s there. “Brian??” No answer. It was him, I know it! Teeth chattering, I stagger through the dark field, not knowing where I am; I must have run so far, so blindly, I ended up in some nowhere land. I don’t even see a streetlight.

“This way!” I hear from a distance to my right. I look over- again, it’s Brian, but even in the relatively strong light from the nearly-full moon, I don’t see anyone. “Shit, and people think *I’m* self-destructive.” I hear him say from even farther that direction.

With that, I can’t help but chuckle through my clattering teeth and pain as I stumble after Brian’s voice. I reach where I thought I heard Brian calling me.

“Fuck, do I have to show you the entire way? Justin, do you see that fluorescent glow over that wall?” He asks from very far away. I do. “Don’t you hear the sirens?”

And then I realize that I do – I’ve been so in tune to listening for Brian’s beautiful voice, I tuned everything else out.

“Okay. I think you can figure it out from here, Mr. 1500 SAT’s. Fucker.”

I smile. “See you there, Brian…” I whisper. And I walk towards the hospital lights and the sound of sirens.

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