Only Seventeen

~ 12 ~

*~*~Justin's POV~*~*

I open my eyes and wince, pain from the back of my head surges towards the front, a reminder of the night before. I close my eyes and can recall parts of the earlier night, but a lot of it is sketchy at best. I do remember one thing and a glance next to me confirms that. Brian's still sleeping, one arm tucked underneath his pillow, and the other wedged tightly between our bodies. I slide smoothly from underneath the covers, careful not to disturb him.

I stand and tiptoe towards the opened window. It's still early; the sun is barely peeking over the horizon. It sends a pinkish glow across the dew-covered ground. I watch it; try to feel its warmth, but the only thing I can feel is emptiness.

I let my mind settle on the one thing that I wanted to forget last night, the reason I ran. Which is exactly what I did yesterday without a second thought or a glance back. Run. I can see that now because I'm not afraid, worried, pissed, or any other stream of emotions. I'm not drunk, either, which is more than I can say for last night. I'm just…empty. Devoid of all emotions because I've already run the gamut. The decision's been made to send my little sister back to California and back to my father, which is exactly what he wants. He won. There will be more rounds, more battles in this fight, though. Battles that I won't let him win with me or with my family. I'll make sure of that.

I turn away from the picturesque view and move my eyes toward an equally pleasing sight. Brian sprawled on his stomach in a bed that we both shared. The question that comes to mind is, how do I look at him after last night?

Do I look at him through the eyes of a hero-worshipper? Does what he did last night -knowing that I was drinking too much, getting me safely from point A to point B-extinguish what happened earlier in the day? Surely, without him I would've gotten into a situation I couldn't handle. Would I have been as caring if the situation had been reversed?

Or, do I look at him through the eyes of a scorned lover? Try to hide the pain from my eyes every time we see each other in the diner, in school, or on the streets? Relive the moment he told me that I was just a fuck and over-analyze his motives for stopping last night? Should I be grateful that we didn't fuck again?

Or, even yet do I look at him through the eyes of a friend? Thank him for stopping me from drowning my sorrows in beer and Jack? Ignore the nagging sensations in my stomach and the pull in my groin whenever I see him? Concentrate instead on the fun times we can have, dancing, drinking, and just hanging out? Would I be able to do that if I so choose?

"Will you quit staring at me?" A groggy Brian asks into the pillow.

I clear my throat, unaware that he's been awake. "Sorry."

"Sorry's bullshit."

"All the same." I answer back and move towards the bed, crossing my arms over myself. I stand above the bed, waiting for him to roll over, to peek and see me.

"What the fuck time is it?" He's still half-asleep. I can hear it in his voice.

I look at the clock, realizing that I actually don't know. "Almost six."

"In the morning? Shit." Finally, he turns his head and an eye eases open only to immediately close. "You going to school?"

"Hadn't thought about it." I really hadn't. "Why?"

"Cuz." He says, a yawn escaping. "You look like shit."

"Well, thanks for the fucking observation."

He laughs and I smile and then we grow silent. It becomes an awkward silence and I hate those because both parties want to break the tension, but have no idea what to say. Brian stretches and sits up, grabs my arm and pulls me next to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks.

I play dumb because I'm honestly not sure if I do. "About what?"

"I'll take that as a no."

I nod and get up from the bed again to look out the window. It's brighter outside now that more of the sun has risen. "My father." I say without realizing that I actually wanted to talk to somebody. "My father is a cheating, lying, bastard."

Brian scoffs. "Join the club."

I look back at him and smile, faintly. "We moved here because of it. They're getting a divorce."

He nods and purses his lips. "I see."

I think he knew that already, but I'm not sure because I don't remember telling him. I turn back towards the window. I don't know why I like it so much, just a place to focus attention, I guess.

I don't think I'll go to school today.

"How do you feel about that?"

"Hmm?" Since when did he become a shrink?

"The divorce."

I've never had to talk about it before in terms of if I approve or not. It wasn't my choice, wasn't my decision to leave. I knew that I didn't want to stay with my father, but did I really want to go with my mom? It just seemed like the thing to do at the time.

I clear my throat and scratch the back of my head nervously. "I've…ummm…I've never really been asked that before."

"It affects you." He says it as if it's that simple, that easy, which it clearly isn't to me.

"I guess it does." I walk back to the bed and plop down, pulling the top sheet around me. "I guess I feel the way every other kid that's gone through this feels. I mean, I know it's not my fault. I know that my mom doesn't blame me, but that doesn't mean I can't blame her."

Brian doesn't say anything, he just listens.

I don't like the way that part of the conversation is going, so I change it. "I want nothing to do with my father and consequently, he feels the same way. He sold my car, wants me off the insurance, yadda yadda." I feel as if I'm babbling, but I'm on a role now and can't seem to stop. "He told my mother yesterday morning that he wants custody of Molly, my little sister. She's only ten and just really wants her dad right now. She doesn't realize how much of a jerk he is, or that things are better without him, or that we should stick together and be a family."

Brian places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "I think you aren't giving her very much credit. I think she realizes more than you believe she does."

"Maybe." I relent. "I know he's only doing it to get back at my mom, and the worst thing is, she's allowing it. She's going to let Molly go."

Brian continues to rub my shoulder and I appreciate it. It's calming and soothing. The tone in his voice is gentle, the brashness, the brutal honesty all but disappears. "You've got a lot to deal with, Justin. You should do it sober."

He's right, I know it.

The conversation is done for today. Brian stands up and stretches, grabs some clothes, and makes his way towards the door. "Well, you might be able to lie around all day and do nothing, but I do have to go to class. I'm highly important." He says the last part with a wink and closes the door behind him.

As I watch Brian leave, I realize that I don't have to choose just one way to look at him. I can use all three because that's the only way I'll truly be able to see him.

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