Only Seventeen

~ 14 ~

*~*~Brian's POV~*~*

I think that I messed something up that night with Justin. I think that I should have made my intentions clear from the beginning, before the park, before the walk to the car. I should have told him what I was all about long before, but that's in the past now and I can't fix it.

Plus, I don't even know if that's the problem. The first couple of weeks after it occurred, he was fine, or so it seemed. We hung out, laughed, joke around, but now things are weird. If he doesn't run away from me all together, he'll usually decline my invitations. I don't even think that he's been to Babylon since then.

He doesn't talk to me, in class or out of, and I don't want to push him. I hate when people do that and I'd only be a hypocrite if I expected immediate results. The only person that he'll really speak to, and I mean beyond the monosyllabic grunts I receive, is Deb. I've asked her what they discuss, but the only thing she says is that it's none of my business.

I asked her if she could at least tell me if he was okay.

She answered in a curt tone that if he were, it wouldn't be with any thanks to me.

I realized I was getting nowhere this way and instead decided that the best way to get something done is to do it yourself. So, I'm going to make him sit down and fill me in, tell me what the fuck is wrong, and see if there's a chance I can fix it.

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

I meet Daphne at her locker after last class. It's a routine now so that if I should happen to run into Chris, either literally or figuratively, I have some sort of back up. He's silently declared me as his favorite "punching bag" since the incident in the hall. He hasn't been very confrontational (read: no punching, kicking, biting, etc.); it's basically been the evil eye. I figure he's plotting in his head what he'll do to me when he gets the right moment alone with me, so I've avoided giving him any opportunity.

I don't really see it as being a coward or running from my problem. I view it more as being resourceful as well as safe.

So, I'm leaning against Daphne's locker, humming a song and impatiently waiting for her, when Brian rounds the corner. He sees me and smiles, runs a hand through his hair to smooth it down, and walks towards me. I look down, right, left, up, and settle on opening my English required reading, currently Lord of the Flies.

I smell him before he gets three feet from me. I can recognize that sweet scent of Dolce and Gabbana anywhere, which at eighty dollars for a three-ounce bottle better smell good. He gets right up next to me and clears his throat. I fake being so into my book that I don't hear him. He does it again only this time louder. I look up, who are we kidding, there is no way I would choose Ralph or Piggy over Brian.

"Sorry, didn't see you standing there." I say with a bored tone. He sees right through me and I wonder if it's really that easy or if he has a gift.

He rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath. "We need to talk, meet me in the courtyard when you're done."

Then he's gone, breezing by Daphne on his way out. She glances at me, then back over her shoulder, and then back at me. I shrug my shoulders.

"What was that all about?" She asks while dialing the lock.

I shrug again. "He wants me to meet him in the courtyard when I'm done."

Daphne rolls her eyes and shoves a few books into her locker. I like to stare at the posters she has canvassing the door, Nelly, Usher, and some Abercrombie guy with a wet chest. He's already good looking; the water just emphasizes his hotness. Anyway, Daphne's babbling on about how it's a good thing that one of us finally got the balls to decide we needed to talk because she was getting tired of me moping (I don't mope), and that if this had carried on any longer she was going to march up to Brian and tell him everything.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Just a couple weeks ago, you were telling me that I needed to, quote, end whatever it is I started because I did start something, unquote, and now you're telling me that you want me to talk to him. What's that about?"

Daphne grabs her backpack and zips up the little front pouch before slamming her locker and tossing her bag over her shoulder. She turns to me and places one hand on her hip. "When I said that, I didn't mean for you to run and hide."

Technically, I never hid; all I did was avoid, which I must say I've become a connoisseur on.

"So, what are you going to say to him?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll just throw him a big sob story about my parents and the divorce blah, blah, blah. It'll get him off my back and it won't really ruin whatever friendship we have."

"Don't you want to tell him the truth?" She's honestly asking this.

I don't bother to say anything; I figure that's answer enough.

"Just…" Daphne hesitates while she searches her head for the right thing to say. "Just be true to yourself."

I watch her turn and walk out the mahogany, double doors towards the parking lot. I continue forward and make a right at the single, glass door that leads to the courtyard. The courtyard, Daphne told me, once housed a massive amount of weeds and broken benches. Then, in the late 80's, early 90's, during the whole 'We Are the World' phenomenon, the S.A.V.E (Students Against A Vanishing Earth) group was taken off paper and brought into fruition. They lobbied the question of "how are we supposed to care about our planet when we don't even care about our school" to the committee, which gave them the green light to do what they will with the dilapidated grounds. In a matter of months, it was transformed into the best place to study, eat lunch, or hang out, weather permitting of course. It's now mowed regularly as per janitorial command and maintained by the many generations of hippie-wanna-bes and green peacers.

Brian is currently sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a tall tree. Don't ask me what kind, I am not in S.A.V.E. nor am I aspiring to be. What I do know is that Brian looks extremely hot and very sexy. His eyes are closed and the top three buttons of his crimson shirt are undone. I push open the door and walk towards him. One eye peeks open and then closes again once he sees who it is. I place my bag on the ground and sit on a wooden bench facing Brian.

"I don't bite." Brian says with a grin. "Unless you want me to."

I hate the sexual innuendo he uses. "I'm fine right here."

He lifts his head and looks straight at me. The grin has disappeared and I can't tell if it's concern for my well-being or pity for my situation that has replaced it. I remind myself that Brian Kinney doesn't do pity because it makes his dick soft. Michael told me that one time when I was with them at Woody's. Either way, he's suddenly become serious. Brian stands up and brushes the loose grass from his clothes.

"What's going on with you?" He asks taking a seat next to me. I don't look at him. I keep my gaze transfixed on the ground in front of me. "Did you think that I wouldn't notice?"

No, I want to tell him, I didn't think that you'd care. Instead, I don't say anything.

"This isn't healthy for you." He says and I almost believe that he's worried. "Your grade in class is fine now, but if you don't start participating…"

"I don't like speaking in front of people." I whisper, but still keep my eyes on somewhere else.

"He speaks." Brian mumbles and fidgets with his arm cuff. He keeps buttoning and unbuttoning, rolling it up, and then straightening it again. He sighs. I'm beginning to believe that he didn't come prepared; he doesn't have a speech, an altercation ready in his mind. We're on even ground here.

"I'm fine, Brian."

He nods his head, but he doesn't believe it. "You don't seem to be. You won't talk to me, won't hang out anymore. I don't even think you've been to Babylon at all. You've shunned all of us except for Deb. What gives?"

I could tell him the truth. That I don't want to go to Babylon because I know that he'll be there. That I'll see him with other guys, dancing, kissing, and I don't need that. I could tell him that my avoiding him is my only ability to control the situation because otherwise he has total dominance over me.

I could tell him that I've hung out enough to know that, if I continue, I'll end up like Mikey. And I don't want that. I don't want to be the friend that sneaks him home drunk, hoping to God that his parents don't wake up. To hear him say 'Sunshine' and know that it's only in a platonic manner. That might be okay for some people, but not for me. I deserve more. Better.

"Its just life, Brian." I partially lie. "My parents are fighting, my sister wants to know why she can't go home, and my mom is still making excuses. Chris Hobbs is probably plotting against me as we speak and I can't do anything to him because I'm just a silly faggot." My voice holds more edge than I intended. I spread my arms out to the sides. "Look at me, do you see any bruises, any injuries?"

He shakes his head no.

"That's because I'm fine. My refusal to get up in front of a class full of pre-angst teenagers who thrive on the reruns of Dawson's Creek is not a reason to worry. I'm fine."

I stand and sling my bag over my shoulder, reassure him once again that I'm just the product of a broken home, and then rush through the glass door and down the hall towards the parking lot. I don't give him time to see through my façade, or speak back against my reason. He did his part by coming to me and I did mine by giving him an answer. It may not have been truthful, but it was an answer nonetheless.

He already has my heart, isn't that enough? Why does he have to know about it, too?

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