Message in a Bottle

Chapter 9

POV BRIAN

I'm stiff and hurt like hell when I wake up next to Justin. He stirs. "Sunshine?" I hate to wake him, but I need a pain pill and *now*. "Justin?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, Sunshine, but could you get me my meds?"

He sits bolt upright, in immediate Florence Nightingale mode. "You hurt, huh?"

I roll my eyes- "No, duh…" He hardly notices my sarcasm though as he hurries over to the desk where he dropped the bottle of pills when we got home from the hospital yesterday. He rushes to get a glass of water and gives me a pill, a worried look on his face.

"Zero to 60 in 2 seconds flat- not bad for a heavy sleeper," I snark.

"When it matters, yeah," he mumbles, watching me down the pill and the water. He takes the remote and flips off the TV which we never turned off the night before. "Brian, you should have something to eat with that. Here's some leftover curry shrimp." He hands me my leftover Chinese.

"You sure I won't get sick? It's been out all night."

"Nah. One night's okay." He grabs another carton and starts to munch on his food as if to show me it's still okay.

I reluctantly nibble on my leftovers, knowing how woozy I get if I take the pills without food. Puking right now for me would not only be painful- it would be a logistical nightmare. "Justin, I know this is kind of gross- but these pills sometimes make me sick to my stomach- is there a container here we could put by the bed in case the disgusting occurs? Getting to the bathroom in time would be impossible." I feel like a kid asking such a thing- and shit, I hope I don't have to use any bucket, especially in front of Justin- he'd either start throwing up himself or he'd pity me. Although I haven't really seen pity in his eyes, in his expression- concern, yes, but pity, no. And there's a vague dread I have of when- and I mean *when*, not *if*-- he starts talking about his feelings for me and vice-versa. I know him well enough now to know he'll want to talk about that shit- and he's got a captive audience; it's not like I can run away in my condition. But I can see how he feels in his eyes, the ways he looks at me, the little things he does for me-and frankly, how he shows me he feels scares me. And vice-versa, dammit.

Justin says nothing in response to my request; he just goes and gets the bathroom trashcan, putting it by my side of the bed. "Brian, before you get too out of it, you should call your friends; I have school tomorrow," Justin says reluctantly.

"The doc said these pills shouldn't make me out of it- or not very," I protest but I sigh and face the address book on the nightstand. Time to get this over with. "What time is it?"

"10AM."

So I make the calls and everyone is full of concern and worry- each one says that of course they'll take turns helping me while Justin is in school. They all also grill me on who Justin is, which I'm purposefully vague about. Then of course they all ask me about my extended visit to Ireland. I finally start telling them that when they're here for their day of helping me out, I'll go into details about Ireland in more depth. I hate the phone.

I also evade the questions about how I got hurt; I suspect Deb has her guesses, and maybe Mikey-*maybe*-, but everyone else seems to assume I was in an accident or something.

I finally finished with the last call- which was to Lindsay- (I was saving the best for last, because I can speak to Gus even though he can't speak back yet. I know she's going to come. I just know it. I just hope she brings Gus with her-- I don't want to scare him; I have simply missed him so much in the time I've been gone. I'm grateful I'm still alive to see him again.)

The rest of the day passes lazily- I mean, I can't very well get out of bed easily and the one time I did earlier to use the bathroom was so ridiculously hard to maneuver that had I not been in such pain, it would have made me laugh. And I really want to take a bath, but right now that's out of the question. Justin gave me a very thorough sponge bath earlier which was downright decent of him. I can tell he wants to suck my dick but he's afraid-either to ask, or that he'll do it wrong, or I'm not sure what. I let it go today- I don't want to rush him.

At around 5, Justin and I are lying down; I'm reading and he's sketching; there's a sudden knock on the door. We look at each other, confused- neither of us is expecting anyone, of course. Justin gets up and asks who it is; and Deb's voice rings through the door. "Let us in, you asshole."

Awwww, man! What are *they* doing here? I'll see them all soon enough! Justin looks to me for guidance. "They won't go away, Sunshine. And you may as well meet my freaky surrogate family and get it over with." I sigh. "Be forewarned: they're a weird bunch."

He nods and opens the door- and: they're all there. Deb of course leads the way in, giving Justin an appraising look. Then everyone sees me and comes rushing over. All sort of "what happened?" questions come up along with suppositions about what *did* happen- "were you hit by a semi?" etc.- fly at me at once. I wink at Justin who is standing behind the crowd a bit flabbergasted. I mouth 'Told you' to him.

I hold up my hand to shut everyone up. "Everyone, this is Justin. I met him at the airport and we're staying here awhile so I can heal a bit before going home." I don't elaborate.

"Why don't you just go home?" Ted asks, oblivious to my home situation.

"Justin's a much sexier nurse, and I don't want to burden my folks- I'm kind of in a high maintenance state of health." I lie and don't lie. "Justin, this is Emmett." Emm squeals and makes some comment like 'hubba hubba' when he fully turns his attention to Sunshine; "Jus, this is Mikey, my best friend since we were 14; this is Deb, his mother and the mother of all wayward gay boys." Deb makes some comment about 'some more than others' looking at me pointedly, and then she comments on Justin's ass. Which I ignore. "Sunshine, this is Theodore-" he says to call him Ted, to which I shrug. "--And this is Vic, Deb's brother, Mikey's uncle, my surrogate uncle, and a great chef like his sister." I pause. "Hey, Deb, where are Lindsay and Gus?" I ask.

"Lindsay, Mel and Gus are on their way- they left in their own car because they have some errands to run afterwards," Deb explains.

"So who are Lindsay, Mel and Gus?" Justin asks shyly, inching towards me almost for protection from the freaks.

"Lindsay's a really good friend of mine, Melanie is her partner, and Gus is my son with Lindsay," I explain bluntly.

"*Your* son?" he asks, surprised.

"MmmmHmmm."

"Gus looks just like a mini Brian!" Michael interjects.

"Were you and Lindsay a couple?" Sunshine persists.

"Nah. Just good friends. I've known her almost as long as I've known Mikey- I met her when I was pretty young while taking some elective classes at Carnegie Mellon. She's a couple or so years older than I am and when she turned 20, she decided she wanted a family. She's been with Mel since they were 16, and they both really wanted a kid after being together so long. Lindsay wanted to start having a family young, so she'd still be young once her children were grown. She asked me to be the father. I grudgingly donated my sperm, and now I have a son; and Gus is one year old. The best stupid mistake I ever made."

"Wow. But I'll bet you're the best father ever." Justin looks around the room and sees small nods. Fuck. I can see the wheels in his head turning, thinking: Why is he so self-deprecating? "Um," he mutters- just to say something, I suspect. "Lindsay *is* young to start a family."

I clear my throat. "Yeah- but when you meet her, you'll see that she's a very 'old young'. She's one of the most responsible, together people I've ever met." Everyone is quiet, listening to me describe all this to Justin; I can tell they're all surprised that I'm describing *any*one in relatively glowing terms. But fuck, she's the mother of my child.

"Are you involved in Gus' life?" Sunshine asks, obviously fascinated.

"More so than I ever expected to be, yeah. I missed him a lot while I was in Ireland."

"I'll bet!"

It's then that I notice Lindsay has heard this whole little epic from behind the crowd, having arrived at some point and hung back. I notice because Gus makes a little cooing noise and he says 'Da!'. Lindsay is looking at me with a mixture of respect, love and horror- the last presumably because of my mangled appearance.

I ignore it. "Justin, this is Linds, my son, and Linds' wife, Smelly Melly."

"Ass," Mel replies, but she's too flipped out by what I look like to add anything more.

"Girls and Sonny Boy, this is Justin."

They greet each other and then Mel asks loudly what the fuck happened to me.

I sigh. I tried to deflect that question and of course, she threw a wrench in the works.

"Brian, really, sweetie- we're glad you're home again, but what on God's green earth happened to you?" Emmett says, agreeing. There are more nods around the room.

Justin sees my discomfort, knowing I don't want to get into grandfather. He gives my hand a squeeze. "He got attacked in Ireland soon before coming back here, and then, here at the motel, he had a mishap with some children who were running and not paying attention to where they were going- they knocked him down," he offers. I squeeze his hand back.

"And who the fuck are *you*?" Mikey practically sneers, surprising me.

"I'm Justin," Justin says, sounding a little surprised himself since he was just introduced around the room. "I'm a good friend of Brian's. I'm kind of helping him out."

"Why didn't he call me? Brian, why didn't you call me?"

"Michael! Manners!" Deb admonishes.

"You have your job at the Big Q, Michael. Justin's in school and he and I met basically over the weekend. What the fuck do you care?" I snap. Everyone is watching this exchange; Lindsay has come over and is sitting on the edge of my bed so I can see and touch Gus. I'm not even looking at Michael as I talk to him, I'm so enraptured. Gus has grown so much! Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Justin is hardly hearing Michael, either- he's fascinated with my son.

But Michael's his usual self and not letting it go. "Why do I *care*? Because I'm your best friend! I didn't even know you were back until you called today!"

"Aw, Mikey, give it a rest- I've been a little bit preoccupied." I gesture towards my broken body.

"That's why you should have called me to help you and not take in some twink you just met!"

"Michael honey, sometimes being cared for by a total stranger is easier on the psyche than being cared for by someone you've known a long time," Emmett interjects helpfully.

"We're certainly no longer total strangers, but Emm's right, Mikey," I say, seeing Justin beam at my words again from the corner of my eye.

I reach out and Lindsay very gently puts my son in my arms.

"But-" Michael starts.

"Enough, Michael!" Deb says abruptly, smacking the back of his head.

"Maaaa!" He whines- ever since I've known Michael, his whining has grated on my nerves like aluminum foil on a cavity filling. Now's no different.

"Here Jus- you want to hold him?" I ask, holding Gus out to Justin who is clearly smitten already. He eagerly accepts and holds Gus like a pro.

"You never let me hold him," Michael pouts. It's clear from all the exchanged looks in the room that everyone finds Mikey particularly annoying right now. For some reason Justin, without any word or action, has set Michael back to being a two year old.

"Michael, the last time I saw him was before I went to Ireland for 7 months! He was 3 months old- I barely knew how to hold him myself. I was a little overprotective is all- he was so tiny and delicate." I sigh- my patience is wearing very thin with Michael. "Why don't you hold him after Justin?"

"You're good with him, Justin," Lindsay says quietly. She's right- he is. He thanks her and goes over to Mikey to hand Gus to Michael to hold him. Michael practically snatches Gus from Justin. "Michael!" Linds yells before I say anything. "Careful! He's sensitive to how you hold him!" I can tell she wants to take Gus from him but she resists as he adjusts his hold. I scowl at him.

Deb, who, like the rest of the group has been unusually quiet while watching all this drama and watching Justin and I, finally speaks up. "Well, Brian, I'm sure you knew I wouldn't show up without food- you're so skinny and you look even skinnier than you did before you left for Ireland!" Actually, I probably am. I didn't eat very well at grandfather's. "I brought some lasagna that is delicious cold if you can't heat it up, some salad, and garlic bread which is still warm so if it stays in the foil should still be good and warm for awhile. And Vic made his special German Chocolate Cherry cake." She bustles with all the food over to the small table across the room. "I also brought you a couple of 'real' plates and two sets of utensils and some napkins."

"Thanks, Deb. That's great of you - and thanks Vic! I love your cakes. See, Sunshine? I told you we'd score food with Deb! We lucked out with Vic's cake- his cakes are lethal, decadent and delicious!"

Justin grins.

Vic comes over to sit by me, having only said a few words of greeting to me and Justin- he's been watching closely, though. I know. "Brian, you really do look thin. And do you have something for pain? You're really banged up," he says quietly, almost confidentially despite the small crowd in the room. He has always been so intuitive and sensitive- I've always respected him, loved him and admired his strength and moral character and genuine kindness. I've emulated Vic in many ways, hopefully successfully. He's one of the few people who can keep Deb in line. I can too- but in a different way.

"Yeah- I um. I didn't eat like usual in Ireland is all, and I ran a lot; I probably dropped a few pounds. And I got a few meds for my poor wounded body- but if you have any extra you wanna unload, I'm all for it." I wink at him and he laughs.

"Brian, we're glad you're home. We wish you were in better condition, but you're in one piece. Albeit barely," he adds. "How was your grandfather?"

I must grimace inadvertently at that; he sees and his expression changes to one of concern. I look around and notice that people are more comfortable now that Mikey's shut up; there are little conversations going on around the room. Good. Less attention on me. "My grandfather was… a bit senile… and basically like a typical Kinney." He knows what that means.

"Is part of this his doing?" he asks in a very low whisper.

I simply nod, now trying to keep in my emotions. As I said, Vic's intuition is uncanny and unlike most everyone else, he sees inside me and understands- and he reads me like a fuckin' book but never throws it in my face or pushes too hard. I went to him as a kid hundreds of times after being beaten nearly to death by Jack.

"Well, then I'm even more happy you're back, Brian. I'm glad you're home - all you have to do now is move out of Jack's house, and you've made it- you survived." He's again whispering low- no one's listening or paying attention unless Justin is around here close by. I'm focused on Vic at the moment, so while I know Justin's here, I don't know how close. "And regardless, as I hope you know- you're always welcome at our home."

"Thanks, Vic," I say after a moment of trying to rein in my emotions. And he knows I mean not just for his kind words of understanding right now, but for everything.

"Of course, kiddo. Always. So, tell me," he raises his voice to a normal register now, "was the countryside in Ireland as beautiful as it looks in all the pictures I've seen?"

I smile. "More beautiful. It was gorgeous- when I get a chance to get my pictures developed, I'll show you. And I had my own little section of rocky beach that I called my haven. I'm going back there someday."

He looks at me with deep emotion- he usually tries to avoid doing that. "Um… Brian, why don't you give your film to me, and Deb or I will get it developed? Considering your priorities are a little more bed-bound than normal-hmm, maybe you being bed-bound *is* normal, albeit for different reasons- but, your mobility is certainly limited now! Consider it a welcome home gift for us to develop your photos."

"Vic, you already baked a cake-"

"Brian, hush. You know I love to bake. Where's the film?"

"My back pack," I answer simply. He goes and gets my pack and finds the baggie full of spent rolls.

"You've always been an excellent photographer, Brian. Is it still a big hobby of yours?"

I snort. "What do you think?" I answer, gesturing to the huge number of rolls in the baggie.

He puts the bag on the floor by his foot. "So, Brian. Tell me about this Justin lad. Did I hear you call him 'Sunshine'?" He winks at me and fuck all if I don't blush. I call Justin that without even realizing it.

"It's the weirdest thing, Vic. The day before I left Galway, I was down on my beach nursing a few wounds…"

"A few?" he interrupts.

"Well… grandfather had a penchant for using his cane and attacking at night while I was sleeping. But I'd had worse- it wasn't the pain that bothered me - I mean, I'm used to that- but what really upset me was that he cracked my ankle and I really wanted to play in the annual soccer tournament-"

"I remember you talking about that before you left."

"Well, I couldn't play. Anyway, I made it to my beach and was dozing in the sun with my ankle in the cold water and an ice pack on my eye, and after awhile something kept bumping my numb-ish ankle. Annoyed, I sat up and found it was a bottle- I pulled it out of the water, and there was a note in it." Vic's eyebrows go up. And now I do notice Justin close by, listening. "I fished the note out- a young gay kid of 16 was doing an assignment for school by doing this 'message in a bottle' thing, and he decided to spill his guts about his sexual orientation - and his life- to the sea since he couldn't come out anywhere else, really. No role models, not many friends to speak of, scared of what his father would do were he to find out-afraid he'd kill him or throw him out after beating him…"

"Except for the not many friends, sounds familiar," Vic says to me.

"You were a role model, Vic- I lucked out; and I had Mikey-"

"Brian you had a lot of friends, but you didn't have me or Michael until you were 14."

"But not gay friends. And yeah, I was 14 but I did finally have you. Anyway, Justin's an artist, and he headed up the letter with a picture of himself. That's when it struck me to call him Sunshine. He looked beautiful.

"What the weirdest fucking thing was that towards the end of the letter, he was talking about his art and how one image, one man had continued to take shape on the pages of his sketchpads. A man he'd never met or seen before. He drew a little thumbnail of this man in that letter I found on the craggy shore of Ireland, and Vic, it was me! Not just a likeness- it was definitely me. To boot, he mentioned he's from the Pitts; and I was flying back in the next day or so."

Vic's face looks complete surprised. "That's fuckin' amazing!"

"It was actually downright creepy." I hear Justin laughing next to me and I feel him put a gentle hand on my shoulder. Vic looks up at him and winks. "He left his cell number so impulsively I called him. We chatted- I'm guessing he was late for school after that conversation. I cast a sidelong glance at Justin standing next to me.

"Did you tell him about being the man in his recurring sketches?"

"Sketches-- and dreams. Millions of dreams," Justin contributed.

I ignore him. "No. My face looked like it does now- swollen and battered. And he'd already insisted he pick me up at the airport- a beat-up freak. I figured he wouldn't recognize me as the man in his psyche. I'd had a nice going away 'party' thrown by my grandfather that morning- a lovely hearty beating to my back with a cane- so I looked like a ghoul, walked like a mummy with a limp -- and the flight sucked. I literally almost walked right into Justin- I'd told him he would be picking up a very battered looking person.

"He immediately knew I was Brian but I didn't think he recognized me as his mystery man- just some beaten-up guy he'd talked to on the phone. He immediately took me to a clinic. Pissed me the fuck off. I ended up with a brace for my ribs, a wrap on my ankle and various instructions and meds. Justin talked to the doctor and cornered me in the car telling me we were going to a Motel 6. What the fuck could I do?

"He'd figured out after talking to the doctor what had caused some of my injuries."

"By your ankle and face?"

"My back. Bruises that were shaped like grandpappy's cane. And he figured Jack would be to me like his father probably did to him. And he figured that Jack, having not been able to do anything to me these last few years after my growth spurt and my strength building, would take advantage of my weakened state."

Vic looked at Justin with admiration. "You're a very smart lad. I can almost guarantee you that Brian was dreading going home for that very reason." He cocked a questioning brow at me.

I nod slightly, a bit embarrassed that Justin is hearing all this. I could always talk to Vic about my fucked up homelife- I could talk to him about anything, really. He's so gentle, quiet, perceptive and non-judgmental, and there's always been something about him I trusted more than anyone else.

Still, I just met Justin, and this is stuff I simply do NOT talk about except on the very rare occasion with Vic. And now this basic stranger is hearing an earful about everything I've tried so hard to hide from the world.

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