Misapprehension

Chapter 4

Authors Note: I just want to thank all of you guys who are sticking it out through this seemingly ecstasy induced story (although I assure you no drugs were taken, LOL). I know its a little crazy so thanks everyone for staying the course.

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Bill sat in his office, the file of Gus Peterson spread open. He was amazed at the artistic achievements of the young boy; he also seemed to be highly intelligent. Bill had observed Gus over the course of the week, talked with him in small increments and even played a couple of games with him. He felt that it was time to talk to Gus formally in his office. He closed the file and walked toward Gus' classroom.

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"Gus, please get in line," Mrs. Shane said as the class all waited impatiently at the door.

"I don't wanna get in line, I'm coloring," he said to her without looking up, he was submerged in his picture. She approached him and repeated her request.

"Gus, please...get in line," she said again. He had gotten hard to predict over the last week, she was wondering if talking to Bill was the cause of his current change in behavior.

Bill watched the interaction between the teacher and student for a while longer before deciding to enter the classroom. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, walking over to Gus and bending down beside him. He motioned for Anna to go and tend to the other children, he would deal with Gus. When she had all the other kids lined up properly she escorted them out of the classroom. Bill and Gus were left in the room alone, both fighting for control of the silence. Bill, having a lot more patience, won the battle.

"Why are you here?" Gus asked as he filled the paper with color, bringing it to life.

"I came to see you, I want to talk to you," he said as he watched the intense concentration that inhabited the young boy as he colored the paper. "I was thinking that we could go down to my office and talk today, I think we would be a lot more comfortable," he said hoping Gus would accept this simple request.

"Go away," was all that was said. Bill was not expecting such a blunt answer to his request. He was well aware that Gus had a tendency to get stubborn so he dismissed the demand.

"I have brand new markers and crayons there, I thought that maybe you could be the first to try them out," he said as he stood up and started toward the door. "I guess I will just have to get someone else to be the first to try them."

Gus stood from his seat, grabbed his picture and followed behind Bill. "I wanna be first," he said and Bill was reminded that he was only five years old. He opened the door and let Gus out first. They walked silently to his office. When they got there Bill watched as Gus took in every inch, he spotted the new crayons and markers and sat down at the little table. Bill let him draw for another ten minutes before he interrupted him.

"Gus, how have you been lately?"

"Fine."

"Have you talked to your daddy today?" Bill asked. He noticed the closed off nature of Gus today. He was usually alone but never lonely, he was rarely quiet and sad. Bill did not know if he should be more worried.

"No, daddy didn't come and see me today. I waited as long as I could at home but mommy said that we had to go," he said. Bill suddenly understood the sullen and moody nature of the boy for what it was. He missed his daddy, he had never had to miss him before and now it was hitting him hard.

"Does your daddy come and see you everyday?" he asked.

"Yeah, he comes everyday and so does my 'love you' daddy," he said as his hand scanned over the crayons that littered the table, searching for the perfect color.

"Justin… right? Justin is your 'love you' daddy?" Bill asked as he scribbled a little reminder.

"Yeah," Gus replied casually.

"Gus, do you want to tell me about Justin?" he asked. He watched as Gus' hand stilled, he stared at the paper in front of him as if he had never seen it before. Bill got up and went over to him. "Gus, Gus, are you okay?" he asked. Gus was a million miles away.

The machines were running and the air smelled like expectations. Gus walked through the loft slowly, clutching at the hand of his daddy with a grip of steel. Justin was laying there in the bed, his head turned toward the window. Brian led Gus over toward the bed, walking around until they were standing in front of Justin's sleeping face. The light touched him and he was beautiful. Brian touched the side of his face lightly and watched as the blue eyes opened and focused on his face, lips curling into a tired smile.

He was pale, eyes sunken and body rail thin…kissed by death. Brian took it all in and acknowledged nothing; he sat on the ledge of the bed and scooted closer.

"Hey sunshine, I missed you today and… I brought you a visitor," Brian said as he swallowed the tears that pooled in the bottom of his throat, raising Gus off the floor and placing him on his lap. The joy that spread over Justin's face warmed Brian and sent a blush to his cheeks. Gus sat quietly in Brian's lap and smiled at Justin, happy just to be near him.

"I think you'll be happy to know that I have finally taught that fur ball of yours to use the scratching post," Brian said as Justin stared at him, the smile evident in his eyes. Brian watched as he began to open his mouth, before his lips parted Brian clamped a hand over his. "Justin, don't try to talk," Brian said as their eyes danced together. Justin closed his mouth and looked at Gus, his wide brown eyes were watching intensely.

He opened his mouth again and licked his lips. Brian noticed the gesture and got some of the ice out of the cup on the nightstand and helped the smaller man eat some. He also took the opportunity to give Justin a kiss, warmth and compassion…love, flowing through them as their lips touched. As they pulled apart they both smiled.

"Brian, why don't you go and get something to eat, okay?" he said quietly and weakly, voice barely a whisper. Brian looked into his eyes and then at his quiet son. He got the hint and stood Gus on the floor as he got up.

"I'll be right back, okay Gus?" Brian said as his son looked at him and nodded his head. Justin waited until Brian walked out the door; he looked over at the little boy that he had loved all his life and slowly patted the bed. Gus wasted no time climbing up onto the bed. He and Justin lay together, foreheads touching.

"Gus, you know that I am very sick, right?" Justin asked as he breathed in a shallow breath.

"Yes, mommy said that you hurt a lot," he answered. "Why the doctors not making you feel better?"

"They are trying Gus but they don't know what's wrong. They just know that I am very sick," he said trying to hold the tears at bay.

"You gonna get better, right?" Gus asked happily. He saw the unsure look on Justin's face and the few tears that managed to slip by told him all that his young brain needed to know. He started to cry.

"Don't cry Gus, I don't want you to cry. I want you to know something," Justin told him as he used a weak hand to wipe away Gus' tears. "I want you to know that I love you, no matter what I love you. I also want you to do something for me, okay?" he asked as he started to cough. When the coughing finally stopped he was able to take rapid, shallow breaths, willing his body to come back into his control. It was a battle that he was losing.

"I want you to do something for me," he repeated and waited for his son to answer.

"Ok," Gus answered, worry clouding his voice.

"I want you to take care of your daddy for me. I know he gets sad sometimes and when I am gone he is going to need someone to talk too so he won't be so sad. Can you do that for me?" Justin asked weakly, his body struggling to keep him lucid.

"Yes, I can do it. I love you Justin, I don't want you to go away," Gus said as he curled up in a ball next to Justin, face buried in the duvet and cried. It felt like fire against Justin's sensitive skin. 'This' Justin thought 'is worth getting burned.'

"No, I don't wanna talk about Jus'n," Gus informed him as the color came back to his cheeks. The room was gone, everything was gone. Bill watched as the little boy chased the silence again, submerged into the picture like it was a lifeline. He wanted to press, to get more information, but he knew that the attempt would be useless.

Bill sat back staring at Gus as his hand started to move again, long lines cluttering together across the paper. Images and people started swirling together… happiness, sadness, change and familiarity, all meeting together on the paper. The images were merging into one and the outcome was distinct. The sun shone brightly over the beautiful day that emerged from the images that made up the distorted picture, recognizable only to the ones who truly looked.

"You'll have to choose, soon, you'll have to choose," Gus said as he looked down at the colors as they swirled together on the picture. The picture started to shake as Gus' face faded away, the walls of the loft forming around him, taking their rightful place. Candles and roses littered the floor and table. Half filled wine glasses held their place among the dishes, the amber liquid breathing in the air.

Brian looked around taking in his surroundings, his heart clawing for escape like a frightened and wounded animal. He felt a hand touch his face and almost jumped from his skin. He looked down at the person who had touched him. "Justin," he breathed. It was barely enough to be heard.

"Where did you go Brian? You were here and then you just seemed to disappear," Justin said from his spot in front of Brian.

"Where is Gus?" Brian asked as the mist continued to clear.

"Gus is not here Brian, he is with Mel and Lindsay," Justin answered in a whisper. He was getting worried. He had never seen Brian so detached. He looked like death had come to visit.

*Now… you have to choose now. Life with the one you love or death inside of life without him. You choose wrong and you will lose.*

"Brian, are you okay?"

"I have to choose," Brian whispered. He said it to himself, trying desperately to control his breathing and to register that he had never left the room, that none of the things he saw so vividly had happened, yet.

*You have to choose. You have to choose. Choose now, life or death…love or loneliness.*

"What Brian, did you say something?" Justin asked again. He grabbed Brian's hand and held on for dear life.

"I have to choose," Brian repeated.

*Love inside of death?*

"You don't have to answer now Brian, I know that it was a surprise. I didn't mean to spring it on you," Justin answered as he moved to get up off the floor. Brian stopped his movement and thought about what he had seen.

He didn't want to taste how life could be without Justin. He didn't want the uncertainty of tomorrow or the empty feelings of pity from friends or the bitterness he would feel toward himself. He did not want to live inside of death. He glanced down at the floor where the picture rested in Justin's free hand, waiting patiently to proclaim their existence, their unity, to the world, while at the same time masking the significance from prying eyes.

"Ask me again," Brian said as he took the picture and lifted it in front of his face. The image was simple. One side of the picture was a stark white, the other a death gripping black, merging in the middle into a deep gray.

"Will you accept this picture as a symbol of our unconventional love and even more unconventional commitment?" Justin asked again. He had spent the better part of two months thinking of the perfect way to ask Brian for a more cemented title in his life. He knew that rings would not be appreciated but something from his heart with meaning for them and that held value to only them would be perfect.

He had painted the picture in no time after realizing that it represented exactly what they were to each other. Complicated, simple, strong, slightly imperfect and when they came together a little faded but softened out. They merged into gray, each one making the other a little more bearable, giving the other just a little more life. Black without white can fade too quickly; white without black can become stained over time. Together they can last just a little longer.

"Brian, are you sure you're okay? You're scaring the shit out of me," Justin said as he took the picture out of Brian's hands and placed it on the floor. He grabbed Brian's hands and led him to the bedroom, laying him down on the bed and scooting in next to him. The clouds parted and split their contents as Brian struggled with his thoughts, silence patiently occupying the space.

"We died, I saw it," he finally whispered.

"Brian, we are fine, I am fine. We have not left the loft, Gus hasn't been here…nothing, has happened," Justin told him as he tried to reassure Brian. "Maybe we should hang up the wine and stick to hard liquor," Justin said with a small laugh. They sat together on the bed, foreheads touching and fingers clasped together. Soon they were both sleep, wrapped in relative serenity.

The walls fell from Brian's mind, steel bars strapping into place. Death occupied the space with him, omnipresent and relentless. The sound of his heart was all he could hear as the sweat pooled around him, almost drowning him in the perspiration of uncertainty.

*You gave no answer.*

"I am afraid, what if he leaves again? What if he dies? What if my cancer comes back?" Brian asked as his thoughts lifted from the haze.

*Better to live life with what ifs… than have an eternity of I wish.*

Brian opened his eyes and took in the person who had weathered the storms with him, the person who served as his anchor and guide, the person who deserved an answer to his seemingly harmless question.

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