Judas

So Make Up Your Mind For Me

Brian's POV

**Warning: I can't say too much without giving the entire chapter away, but no matter how bad it looks, keep reading. Things aren't always as they seem. Brian just needed a very big wake up call.**

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The phone wakes me up. I look at the clock before answering. Who the fuck would be calling me at three in the morning? I reach the phone just before the machine kicks on. "Hello," I mumble.

"Brian, it's Debbie."

"Do you know what fucking time it is?"

"Honey, I don't know how to tell you this."

That's when I notice she sounds like she's been crying. "Did something happen to Vic?" I pray the answer is no, but I can't imagine what else could be wrong.

"No, Vic's fine."

"Michael?"

"No, Michael's fine, and so is Ben."

"Debbie, I'm not going to play twenty questions. What is going on?"

"It's Justin. He was leaving the diner, and this car, it just came out of nowhere."

"How badly is he hurt?" I ask her as I'm searching for my clothes. I have to go. I have to get to him.

"Brian, he's gone. There was nothing they could do. The doctor said it was instant; he never felt a thing."

Her voice fades to a whisper, or I've stopped being able to hear her. I must still be breathing, but I don't know how. All I can think is damn Emmett. He told me I would lose him. I can't speak so I just hang up the phone. Then I unplug it and head for the liquor cabinet.

The days before the funeral pass in a blur. All I remember is silence. There are so many sounds I will never hear again; I can't bear to think of them. Except for work I speak to no one. The phone stays unplugged, and I refuse to answer the door. I changed the lock after Lindsay used her key. She left when I refused to even look at her. Cynthia was threatened with severe bodily harm if she allowed anyone in my office again after I found Michael waiting for me. He wisely chose to leave while I was still on the phone with security.

And now I stand here in this room with all of them. In this room where I am supposed to say goodbye. But I can't. It's already too late. I can't say goodbye to someone who's already gone. I can't say anything to him. I can't even see him. Closed casket. Too much facial damage or at least that's what Deb said in one of the messages she left me. So the last image I have is of him walking away. Of him looking at me with all the love I won't accept and all the pain I cause, telling me he won't ask me to be strong enough to love him. What kind of fucking shit is that? Maybe it's my punishment for all my sins. Maybe it's my punishment for being so God damn weak. But why does he have to be brought down right along with me?

I can feel their eyes on me, but I won't acknowledge them. It's like they don't exist anymore. I didn't even bother to offer my condolences. Jennifer probably wouldn't accept them, Molly doesn't know who I am, and I'm certainly not going to explain my relationship with him to the rest of his family. His father's not even here. Fucking prick. The fiddler made a brief appearance, but one look from me and he made a hasty retreat. He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as him. Of course, no one can now.

I can feel them moving closer to me. I need to get out of here before someone touches me or speaks to me, but I can't leave him. I know it's stupid. He's not here. But I know when I leave this room, I'll never be with him again. So I stay and try not to be suffocated by their concern or the flowers. So many fucking flowers. His allergies would be giving him fits. I didn't send flowers. I'm sure that's another point against me, but why bother. I can't give him anything now. I wouldn't give him anything when I had the chance.

Someone is speaking now. I don't know who it is so I don't bother listening. I'm sure they're talking about how wonderful he was. Telling stupid little stories and pretending they knew him. What do they know? Do they know what he smells like first thing in the morning? Do they know where he likes to be kissed? Do they know that he can look at you and make you think you're his whole world? Do they know how brilliant and funny he is? Do they know what it's like to look at a piece of paper and see yourself through his eyes? Do they know how strong he is? How hard he fought to get his life back? They don't know him at all.

Next they'll speak of the tragedy and how deeply they'll be affected by his loss. Fuck them. These people probably haven't spoken to him in years. How exactly will they feel his loss? Do they look at their lives and see nothing but darkness ahead of them? I doubt it. Even Jennifer has Molly to live for. I can't see past this room. I can't see anything beyond the reality of walking out of here without him. What else is there?

Emmett catches my eye, and I want to strangle him. I want to scream at him. Fuck you! How dare you be right?! Losing him this way isn't any easier because I already lost him. It is so much worse. Not because of what I lost. I'm not ready to think about that. But because of what he lost. He never got the words he wanted or the life he wanted. Not because he didn't deserve them. But because I was too much of a coward to give them to him. All I can think of is everything I cheated him out of.

They tell us it's time to go. It's time to say our final goodbye. They line us up to pay our respects. I manage to avoid everyone I know. I try not to watch as they file past crying and whispering last words. The closer I get the harder it is to breathe. Each step takes me closer to where he is. Where he lies there silent and still. I can't imagine him like that. I cannot do this. I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them...

What the fuck? I'm in my loft. What the hell just happened? It couldn't have been a dream, could it? I want to believe that, but I'm afraid to. No dream, not even the nightmares I had after his prom, has ever been this real. There's only one way to know for sure. I reach for the phone.

"Hello?" his sleepy voice greets me.

My heart starts to beat again, and I'm tempted to hang up. But I don't. "Justin, are you OK?"

"Brian? It's the middle of the fucking night. Are you drunk?"

"I need to see you." I'm sure it sounds like an odd request, but it's the truth. I need to see him for myself. I need to touch him.

"Now?"

"Yes, come to the loft. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." That's as close as I'll ever come to begging.

"Fine. I'll be there soon," he sighs before hanging up.

I wait for him to get here and wonder what on earth I'm going to say to him. I have no idea, but I'm not sure it matters. Right now I just need to be with him. And as afraid as I am of letting him back into my life, I'm more afraid of living without him.

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