If It Made Sense, It Wouldn't Be a Mystery, Would It?

Chapter 25

POV: JUSTIN

Brian's in a thoughtful mood when we get back to the loft. Quiet. Pensive. And I gauge that his headache is really bad from the way he keeps pinching his nose and rubbing his temples. As much as I want to reach out to him, I let him be. You kind of don't reach out to Brian. You pick your moments and usually he's pretty good at letting you know when he'll be receptive. You just have to know him.

I've managed to put thoughts about the bashing, the hospital, almost losing Brian - to the back of my mind. Well, sort of. Well, actually, when I saw Brian looking so intently at Gus in the diner, it all kind of resurfaced. Why, who fucking knows. But Brian had this look like all his demons were right at his heels and it brought everything I'd been trying to push away back. Until then, I'd been somewhat successful in distracting myself. But the car ride home was silent. No distractions.

I sigh. Great.

"Want a beer?" Brian calls from the fridge, startling me.

"Um. No, thanks." I answer. I walk over and sit at the kitchen counter.

He looks at me and pops the lid off a bottle using the opener by the sink. He doesn't say anything, but keeps scrutinizing me with a slight look of concern.

"What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Are you okay?" Is all he asks.

I look down at my hands. "Yeah. I think so. Thanks for letting me know about that new art supply store, by the way."

He doesn't answer.

"And I really do think the portrait thing would be cool." I'm not sure he's thinking about what I'm thinking about, so I don't bring it up. No. That's bullshit. I am sure he's thinking about it, too. But he has enough on his mind at the moment.

"Justin, quit it. I think you know what I'm talking about. And you haven't said a word since we got in that godforsaken smoking Cavalier. What with that artsy fartsy store opening up, I'd think you'd have been chattering like a fucking teenaged girl this whole time."

"Well, you seemed to not… to not want to talk about it. This morning, I mean. Before Lindsay showed up." I say quietly. And it's true- this morning he looked pained when I'd mentioned it. Not angry. Not upset. Not sad. Genuinely pained. I know how much the bashing affected him, and here he's finally put it behind him - and I can't stop yammering about it all of a sudden.

Brian sighs and sits beside me. "Well. Quite frankly, I don't." He admits. "But you do seem to. And… well, let's just get it over with."

I snort. "It's so nice to see your sensitive side." I mutter. Jesus. Then I feel a little bad. I know better than that. This is Brian in one of his more sensitive moods- he just doesn't do shmaltz. I look at him quickly and he knows I didn't mean it. He just waves it off. "By the way, it's time for your pills." I say, starting to get up.

"Later. What is with you? I'm listening, willing to talk about that godforsaken chapter of our little lives, and you keep changing the subject."

"I know. I just… I just..."

He takes a deep breath and I hear a slight hitch, but his voice is steady: "You said you had - you've been having dreams. Nightmares."

I nod. I've been trying to stay focused on the dreams. The dream of Brian- drop dead beautiful- leading me around the dance floor, dressed in a tux, smile on his face. Jesus, he had looked so fucking happy- like I'd never seen him before. Openly happy- no cynicism, no sarcasm… well, it was at a minimum, anyway. And I remember my heart being filled to the fucking hilt with love for him. And I could see that he felt the same way. I saw it in his smile, his soft eyes, his whole face.

But then.

Then, it mutates into the parking garage dream. Which, well, it also is fantastic- indescribable, really. At first. We're at the Jeep, laughing and talking. Brian kisses me, wraps the white scarf he'd been wearing around my shoulders. Fucking best night of my life and it was ending beautifully.

'Later,' we had said to each other.

Then.

Then I remember walking away, singing a little, holding that scarf. And suddenly hearing Brian's voice, filled with panic, fear, terror.

"JUSTIN!!!"

I remember swinging around and seeing Hobbs' face- it was twisted in a furious grimace. But it was his eyes. They were filled with anger and pure, unadulterated hatred. It's his eyes that I keep seeing in my mind. Although, this all must have happened in a split second because I- God, I think I was even still smiling- I couldn't react, I couldn't move, as this thing was coming at my head.

I notice Brian is looking at me hard. "Justin?"

I look at him and realize I'm shaking. And I also realize I'm blinking back tears. "I think I remember that night. I think my dreams are from my own memories, Brian. And it was beautiful. You were beautiful. It was magical. Until."

His eyes soften and he reaches over to wipe a tear away from my cheek. "I know." Is all he says.

"All these beautiful dreams of you showing up. Us dancing. Kissing on the dance floor. And that was such an incredible kiss- I felt so fucking proud. Of you. Me. Us. No one else mattered. Existed, even. Then kissing by the Jeep. Jesus." I shake my head and feel myself laughing through my tears at the memories. "It was… God, it was almost surreal it was so amazing, you know?" I glance at him and he's smiling gently, but he stays quiet.

Then I shut my eyes hard, trying to will the rest of it away. But I can't. "And then I'd wake up, and see you lying broken in that hospital bed, sleeping so fitfully and wincing if you accidentally moved your leg or head the wrong way. And I was so scared. I was so scared I was going to lose you. I'd stay awake for hours and hours just to watch you breathe. Make sure you kept breathing. Then, then inevitably I'd fall asleep and the nightmares would start." I reach up and swipe another tear before it falls from my face. "I keep seeing Hobbs' face. His eyes. God, Brian- he would have killed me dead if you hadn't been there. I know that now. I'd be fucking dead." Brian looks down at the floor. "He looked at me with such hate, Brian. I mean, pure hate. I never have seen that before. I never want to see it again." I've started full on crying now. Fuck. "And now that I remember… I want to forget." Brian glances at me. "I mean, just that part. I want only the wonderful dreams- memories- to stay and I want to push the nightmares the fuck away and not remember. Not remember the sound of sheer panic in your voice when you called my name to warn me. Not remember Hobbs' eyes. Not remember that look. Not remember the bat."

Brian looks at me and reaches to grasp one of my hands in his good one. I notice his jaw clench. I can't tell if he's angry, or if he's biting back some other emotion. "I didn't know that." He says quietly, barely perceptively. I feel him shudder and I realize he's trying hard not to break down. "I never knew you saw his face." He whispers.

"Fuck!" He says suddenly, startling me. "FUCK!" He's shaking and lets my hand go to rake his fingers through his hair. "Fuck, Justin." He says, more quietly this time.

"Brian, please don't. Please. I can't stand you thinking it was your fault- I was having problems with Hobbs way before that night, you know that. It wasn't your fault." I plead.

Brian looks at me unsteadily then seems to collect himself. "Well, that aside, Justin- this isn't really about me right now, anyway." He says softly. I'm fucking sobbing. Brian reaches behind me, pulls me to him and wraps his arm around me, holding my head against his shoulder, kissing my hair. "It will be alright, Justin. I promise."

Promise.

And it's then that I really I lose it. I'm suddenly fucking crying so hard I can hardly breathe; the noises I make sound alien to me, like some kind of wounded animal. "And the dreams all blend into this mess, Brian," I splutter whenever I can inhale and manage words. "And I start to see blood EVERYwhere... and it's YOUR blood... we're in the car... and you're getting so woozy you can hardly keep your eyes open. And…" I cough. "Brian, and in my dreams you CAN'T keep them open... and I can't see the buttons on the cell phone-... so the paramedics never come, Brian. Fuck, Brian!... And I'm helpless, desperately punching numbers on the phone... but I can't seem to get it right and I'm watching you bleed... bleed everywhere... Brian, bleed to DEATH." I'm totally hysterical now, hardly able to speak. And Brian holds me tighter, his lips in my hair, kissing me over and over and over. "Brian I don't want to remember this shit! I don't want to have any more nightmares!" I vaguely feel his casted arm wrap around me from the right- I'm literally quaking as all these pictures flash in my mind's eye. I try to focus on his steady arms, so strong around me, holding me fast. And I'm spent; I can't gather the breath to say anymore. Between my guttural wails, I realize he's started whispering softly that it will be alright, that it's good that I remembered, that he didn't die, that I probably saved his life, that I didn't die, that I'll get past this, that WE'LL get past this, TOGETHER- and hearing that… THAT pushes me off whatever slim edge I had left. Because I love him so much, if I'd lost him in that goddamned car wreck, I'd wither away and fucking die. And I keep flashing between seeing all that blood- so much blood- all over the front seat, Brian, his leg, his head bleeding profusely- and him getting loopier and loopier. Waiting ages and AGES for the sirens- the whole time, me yelling at him - screaming at him at the top of my lungs- how much I love him, to not close his eyes, to stay with me, not to leave me, never to leave me- God, I said so much shit and I was so terrified… and then I flash to hearing Brian's panicked voice screaming my name, seeing Hobbs' eyes, the sudden flash of the bat. I'm fucking drenching his shirt and leaning so hard on him I must be hurting him but I can't stop. I can't stop. I can't stop. And he just holds me. For the longest time, as I fucking lose my mind- he just keeps holding me. Tight.

Eventually, eventually, I start to slow down.

"Justin?" Brian says as I gulp for air. "Justin." He pauses again. "Justin. You're safe now." He says. And he pulls back his good arm and cups my chin to look into my eyes and I very blearily see that he's been crying too. "Do you hear me? You. Are. Safe. Now." I'm still hiccupping and sobbing but I'm not hysterical anymore. I nod, looking into his eyes.

"Bri-" I hiccup sharply. Fuck it. "Brian?"

"Yes?"

I inhale shakily. "Brian." I've lost myself his eyes. "Brian… I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. So much that I couldn't lose you- can't lose you, ever! Bri--" He suddenly leans down and kisses what must be the most disgustingly snot-covered, tear-stained face on earth and I squeeze him so tightly that I feel a small puff of air enter my mouth as we kiss.

"Justin?" He asks when our lips finally part. I can feel his fingers in my hair and I lean back into his hand and close my eyes. I feel safe. Here. I feel safe. With Brian. "Justin?" He says again. I open my eyes and look at his beautiful face. I'm feeling calmer and calmer.

"What?"

"Do you feel safe? Right now?" He asks simply, sniffling just slightly.

Yes. I lean forward and rest my head against his chest, feeling the moisture, the fucking mucous or whatever the fuck it is I've wiped all over his shirt on my cheek, feeling his palm cupping the back of my head, his fingers in my hair. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. "Yes." God I feel so safe. "Brian: Yes, yes, yes."

He gently pulls my head back to look at me again. "Justin. Then I want you always to remember this. Whenever you feel panicked, or spooked. Or, if you can, if you're having a nightmare, remember this. Will yourself to remember this moment. Do you promise?"

Yes. I'm lost again in his hazel eyes.

"Justin. Promise?" He says again.

"I promise." I whisper.

"Good." He leans down and kisses me again and his lips are so warm, so welcome. It's a soft, slow kiss, a 'comfort kiss' I think I once called it, and when I open my eyes, I see him looking at me with an odd sort of tenderness. "Okay now?"

"Yeah. Brian?" He looks at me, cocking an eyebrow. "Brian, thank you."

He waves me off. "Okay. Now, Jesus, get me a different fucking shirt to wear. You fucking drooled and snotted all over this one."

I laugh, still hiccupping a little. "Um. Sorry about that. It is kind of disgusting, isn't it?"

"Uh huh. Good word for it." He says, shrugging out of it.

I go into the bedroom and pick out a black wifebeater and hand it to him.

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