Message in a Bottle

Chapter 5

POV JUSTIN

We check in at the motel and the room's not too bad. Two large beds, and it's clean. There are restaurants around for take-out and the check-in counter guy said delivery menus are in the nightstand between the two beds. I gently lead Brian to the bed closest to the door to get him off his feet as quickly as possible. "How're you doing?" I ask him- judging by how stiffly and slowly he's moving, he hurts bad.

He glares at me as if to say, 'what the hell do *you* think?' Instead, he grits his teeth and mumbles, "Just peachy."

I prop his cane by the head of his bed. "I'll be right back- lay on your stomach, okay?"

"No way!"

I chuckle. "I'm not asking for *that* reason, Brian." Still, I'm a little offended for some reason- I already lust after this guy- and from what little I know about him, I'm beginning to form real feelings for him. Which is stupid, I know- I fucking just met him. But he has good character, he's funny, interesting, noble and he's confident in himself despite what he's suffered at the hands of his family. Not that I'd think we'd fuck when he's in this state- what bugged me was that he was just so quick and emphatic in his 'no!'. I can't tell if he's attracted to me at all. I choose to think he's the ultimate top- which I suspect he is- and that's why his 'no' was so strong. But still…

I push these thoughts away as I hurry into the bathroom, get a towel and run it under hot water- not too hot, but hot enough. I get back to Brian who's lying on his stomach on his bed and I sit next to him. "Brian, I'm just going to lift your shirt to remove the brace for a hot compress, okay?"

He nods with a pained grimace.

I quickly but carefully lift his shirt and remove his brace. Before I can stop myself I suck in a sharp breath. The bruises are extensive and some are shaped like the top of a cane. No wonder he's in such agony. I gently place the hot towel on his back, covering most of the bruises from sight. But after what I just saw, I'm shocked he can move at all!

"Pretty nasty, I assume, if that's your reaction," Brian mutters sadly.

"They don't look good, Brian," I say honestly. "But the docs let you leave the clinic and didn't even suggest admitting you, so that's something- I mean, it's bad, but you'll live and heal. Do you want one of the pain pills we got there?"

"Nah, I've felt worse than this. Besides, they gave me a shot- it may be too soon for a pill."

I frown. I kneel on the floor by his bed to be at eye level with him. The bruised side of his face is facing upward, too painful to lay on. Shocking myself at my boldness, I reach out and touch his hair- it's soft, a beautiful shiny auburn, a little longer than in my sketches, but not by much. There's a slight wave to it that makes it a bit unruly in the sexiest way.

He looks me in the eyes. The eye on the left side of his face that was caned is red and looks inflamed. There's a small tear drop in the corner, probably due to the irritation. We simply stare at each other for at least two minutes, not saying anything. It's intense. "So, I'm the gruesome ogre from your sketches, Sunshine. Nice surprise, huh?" he finally says moodily; he reaches out his hand and touches my cheek.

"I think you're beautiful," I blurt out. I really *can't* seem to control what comes out of my mouth with this man! He probably thinks I'm a stupid twink! Well, I'm inexperienced, kind of a twink- but I'm no idiot even though I sound like one around him. But he's so all over the place in his moods and demeanor, it throws me off-guard. Of course, I feel a blush on my cheeks as soon as I blurt that out. After a few minutes I add, "You're absolutely no ogre- but I hate the bruising because you're hurting so badly, and someone was that cruel to you. But it's still you.

"It's creepy in a huge way, isn't it - me sketching you all the time for so long, dreaming about you- and I've never met or seen you in person before. And then *you* get my message in a bottle all the way in Galway, Ireland when you're about to come home- which is here in the Pitts. It's eerie."

"Tell me about it. When I got that bottle on my - er, the beach over there and saw my image, I was shocked to say the least. I mean, it's not just a likeness- it's me to a tee. It freaked me out and I tried to think up logical explanations. Not many fit. I thought maybe you saw me somewhere here in the Pitts and didn't remember it exactly- just my image stuck in your head."

"I don't think so, Brian. I'd remember having seen you in person," I admit, suddenly finding there are tears in my eyes: looking at how battered he is up close is gut wrenching.

"What's wrong? Don't cry, Sunshine," he says, alarmed, not knowing what's bothering me.

"I can't help it. How your grandfather, no matter how senile, would do this! You look like you're in so much pain."

"Well, I'll get over it," he states matter-of-factly.

I reach out and touch his hair again and try to smile. "Is the warm compress helping any?"

"It's getting cold, actually. Would you mind taking it off?"

"Of course." I gently remove the cooling towel from his back, trying not to look at the bruises there. I put the brace back on, pull his shirt back down and take the compress into the bathroom and hang it on the bathtub spigot to dry. I hope it helped some. When I get back, Brian has rolled onto his back. I have to wonder why that doesn't hurt him, but maybe the even, soft support of the mattress actually helps. I take the blanket from the base of the bed and carefully drape it over him, not knowing if he's chilled or not from the cooling compress.

"Thanks, Sunshine," he whispers with a slight smile.

"May I lay here next to you, Brian?" I ask, a little hesitant.

"Sure. You're paying for the room."

"Brian, that's ridiculous. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Tell me if it's okay if I lie next to you in your bed!" I insist, starting to get pissed at his frequent non-committal, half answers.

"Yes, it's okay," he answers flatly. I smile and gently get under the covers next to him pulling myself up on my elbow to face his profile. I wish I had my sketch book. "Can we order some food? I haven't eaten since the plane, and airplane food sucks," he says suddenly.

My mood changes and I grin. A man after my own heart. In more ways than one. "What would you like, cranky pants?"

"Fuck you. And anything. Just real food and not anything like that airplane crap. Tasteless, rubbery, year- old shit," he adds in a mutter more to himself than to me.

I snicker and I reach in the drawer beside us, pulling out the take out menus there. "You like Thai?"

"I've never had it- I have no clue."

"I think you'll like it, Brian. You don't have any food allergies, do you? Like coconut milk or peanuts or anything?"

He smirks. "Not that I know of. I don't know if I've ever had coconut milk, though."

"Well, if you don't know of any other allergies, I think you'll be fine." I pick up the phone and order, watching as Brian begins to doze fitfully. It's then that I decide we're going to stay here at least a week. He's hurting too fucking much to be around his sick fuck of a father, even if Brian won't admit it. Even dozing, he has a pained expression on his face. I curl up closer to him without hurting him and I take his beautiful hand in mine and wait for the food. I'm debating crushing up one of the pain pills into his portion, but decide against it.

I begin to doze myself when there's a loud knock at the door and Brian starts awake. "What the fuck!?" he exclaims.

I look at him, concerned at his reaction; being surprised while he's asleep is what landed him in this predicament in the first place. "'S'kay, Brian- it's just that the food's here," I answer quietly. I go to the door, pay the guy and bring the food back to the bed. He still looks a little shaken. "You wanna eat this here, or go to the table?" There's a little round table by some windows at the other side of the room.

"I'll try the table," he mutters, sitting up slowly.

I quickly go to the table and replace one of the hard chairs with a more plush one from next to my bed. He hobbles over with his cane and gingerly sits down in the chair. "Thanks, Sunshine."

I smile and unload the food from the bag, thankful that they included little plastic forks. I suck at using chopsticks. I hand him the box of food I think he'd like the best- for whatever reason, since I have no idea of his food preferences. He accepts and opens the box, taking a fork.

"Smells good," he comments.

"Yeah. Thai's one of my favorite kinds of food."

"What's in this slop, anyway?" he asks, taking a mouthful.

"Your dinner is called Khao Soy. It's got coconut milk, egg noodles, pork, fish sauce, red curry- all sorts of stuff." I find I'm learning to accept Brian's brusque way of communicating- it's just his way and it's not really meant to offend. Usually. Probably came from growing up the way he did, but I don't want to overanalyze the guy. Yet.

"Sounds fattening."

I snort. "Brian, like you should fucking worry about that! You're a pole!"

He looks offended. "I am not!"

"You're thin, Brian. Beautiful, muscular, built- but you're lean. Face it."

I can't help laughing at his facial expression of disgust.

"What's wrong? It's just your body type! Brian, you have a gorgeous physique! You have a runner's body- strong, slender, fit. You must get guys and women hitting on you all the time!" I mean, he must!

He thinks about it. "Not with my current look, I don't. Everyone on the airplane earlier was either staring or avoiding looking at me in horror. I'm not used to that."

"Not even the staring?"

"Well, not for the reasons they were staring today," he admits.

"See? And this is temporary. I can't believe you're self conscious about your looks," I blurt out. "I mean, *I* am- but that's understandable!" I say honestly.

Now Brian snorts. "Sunshine, you're fucking hot, gorgeous and a beauty and you bloody well know it. And you have the most adorable bubble butt - which I didn't know from your portrait in the letter from the bottle."

I blush- and I hate it when I do that. Brian seems to make me blush more than I ever have before. "Um. Thanks," I mumble, lowering my gaze to my food.

When I look up, he's regarding me with amusement.

"What?" I ask him. "What are you grinning at?"

"I don't think I've ever seen a person get that shade of red before!" He chuckles.

This of course makes my cheeks feel even warmer and now he's practically all-out laughing. It's a nice sound- I haven't heard it before now. "That's a nice sound," I say; fuck, I guess I have to resign myself to blurting out whatever's on my mind with Brian- I can't seem to help it!

"What's a nice sound?" he asks, his laughter subsiding somewhat.

"You. Laughing."

He looks at me, surprised. "I guess I don't laugh often," he admits.

"You should. You're very sexy when you do." Hell, he's sexy as shit all the time, but whatever.

"…" Brian stays quiet and eats another bite of his food. He seems self-conscious again, and puts on an indifferent face.

"Brian, are you self-conscious because of your injuries?" I ask frankly.

"I just don't think I'm making a very good first impression."

"Well, don't worry about that, okay? Honestly," I aver.

Boldly and on impulse, I stand and lean across the table and brush a soft kiss on his lips. Did I just *do* that?

He looks at me in complete surprise. "What was that for?" he asks bewildered.

"That reflects a small version of how I feel about your first impression," I nearly whisper. "I'm sorry- I'm not usually this forward, Brian." I flush, sitting back in my chair and wishing it would swallow me whole.

He smiles, a genuine smile. "Sorry is bullshit, Sunshine. That was sweet. And I never use that word."

I grin, blushing even deeper; I'm speechless for awhile.

"You're pretty brave for a 17 year old virgin, Justin."

"No, I'm never like this. Honestly. It's like my feelings have taken over or something. I'm sorry."

"What'd I just say about sorry?"

"It's bullshit…"

"Yeah."

We eat in silence for awhile. Me in constant beet red mode because I sense him looking at me every so often.

I clear my throat because I'm not sure if I'm about to croak my words. "Hey, Brian?" I venture. He glances at me. "Brian, I think we should stay at least a week here, so you can heal a little. Before you know, going home."

Brian shakes his head. "You have school. I have to face my parents and get to Emmett's. I don't have time to sit around here and 'heal'."

"Yes, you do. I have Spring break the next two weeks-" I'm lying, but he's more important at the moment, and I'm more than caught up in my classes. I can have Daphne call the school and pretend she's my mother, and say there's been a death in the family or something.

"Justin, it's the beginning of April. Spring break is in March. You probably fucking get off for summer vacation in about a month!"

"Not at St. James."

"You're lying to me, Justin." Fuck it. He's good.

Shit! "Brian, you need help even getting into fucking bed. I can take some time off from school- I'm more than caught up in my classes." I beg. "If you can't get around well with me helping you, how do you think it will go for you with your fuck of a father?"

A brief look of dread crosses his face. Then: "Absolutely not. School is more important for you." End of discussion.

"Fuck you! School is not more important! Fine! Then you're staying here and I'll go to school and come back here!"

"Justin, your parents would flip out!"

"I'll tell them I'm spending some time with Daphne! They know her and like her!"

"And if they call Daphne's to check on you?"

Fuck. This guy thinks of everything. "Daphne will be cool about it- she can even call me here to call them. My parents would probably call me directly on my cell rather than bother the Chanders', anyway. I'm just worried about you during the days while I'm at school."

"Don't. I'm capable of taking care of myself. I've done it for 19 years, remember? But fine. We'll stay a little."

I sigh, giving him a doubtful look about being able to care for himself very well in his current state. But I don't say anything. At least he's not going to that hell hole he calls "home". Besides, it's the weekend right now and I have time to spend with him and can think of what to do later.

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