Hold On
Chapter 4
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I'm grateful when the tests are done and they advise me to rest. My dreams are the only escape I have from this nightmare, the only place where Gus is still alive and well. I long to hear his voice again, even if I know it's not real, will never again be real. It's all I have now and I'll take it. God, I'll take it.
"Justin?"
Thank God. I know by now that I won't be able to answer him, won't be able to open my eyes, but hearing his voice is enough. Maybe this is the way it has to be. Maybe I'm not allowed to see him, speak to him, wherever he is now. Is it Heaven? Is that what I'm getting this tiny glimpse of, even if it's just an auditory one?
"I wish you could wake up."
I wish I could, too, Gus. I think about explaining my theory and then realize I have no way to explain it. I'll have to settle for listening to him. It's not as much as I want, but it's way more than I'm entitled to.
"Mom wants you to wake up, too. She was crying, Justin. She was trying to hide it but I could tell. They were both crying, Mom and Dad. They kept saying it wasn't fair. It shouldn't have happened. Did we do something wrong, Justin?"
My heart breaks at the words. They're crying because they love you so much, I want to tell him. How do you explain to a ten-year-old that his parents are mourning his death? They're right, though, it isn't fair. It shouldn't have happened. God, Gus, if I could go back and change it, I would, but I can't. All I can do now is listen to your voice, hold on to you for as long as I can. Maybe they don't have that luxury. Maybe they can't hear you the way I can without benefit of the drugs and yet another head injury.
"I have to go."
No! Not yet. Just a few minutes more.
"Mom wants to see you, I think. I heard Dad telling the nurses."
I don't know if I can, Gus. I don't know if I could look into her eyes and apologize for not protecting you.
"Bye, Justin. I love you."
God, I love you too, Gus. I love you so much.
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Brian is once again at my side when I wake. Rather than say anything, I merely watch him for a while. He looks so tired that it breaks my heart. I know that Gus' death is weighing heavily on him and there's absolutely nothing I can do to make it better. After a few moments, his eyes travel to my face and widen slightly as he realizes I'm awake.
"Hey," I say weakly.
"Hey," he replies, trying to force a smile but failing miserably. "You're awake."
Not wanting to risk a nod, I blink slowly in affirmation. "How's Lindsay?"
His face clouds slightly. "She's not doing so well," he admits.
"Gus said she wanted to see me," I say without thinking. Shit. I can't believe I did that.
He swallows hard and looks away for a moment. When he turns back, his eyes are uncharacteristically glassy. "Maybe later."
"But I'm awake now," I protest. "And that doesn't seem to be a guarantee for long."
"It's the drugs and the injury," he tells me. "You need to give your body time to heal. They need you to take it easy."
"All the more reason why Lindsay should see me now while I'm awake and lucid."
"Justin…" His voice trails off and he looks away again.
"What is it, Brian?" I ask with concern. He's doing everything to avoid looking at me. Little does he know, his non-looks are as telling as anything I can see in his eyes. "She doesn't really want to see me, does she?" I ask quietly.
His eyes can't fly to mine fast enough upon hearing that. "She just needs some time," he finally says, his voice hoarse.
I nod slightly and close my eyes while I try to deal with that bit of news. "She blames me."
"No…" he attempts to ward off my words. "She's just … she can't…"
"She can't stand to look at me because I'm alive and he's not," I finish for him. Trying to keep the tears at bay, I continue. "And she wishes it were the other way around."
"Don't say that," he says forcefully, causing me to open my eyes. "She'd never wish that on you. Her son is … gone… she's grieving."
I look at him intently for a moment. "What about you, Brian? Gus is your son, too." I can't bring myself to use the past tense. "How can you look at me knowing that I was there, that I didn't protect him?"
He gets to his feet, his face turning red with barely suppressed rage. "Because I should have been there!" he practically yells. "I should have been the one protecting him, protecting you! I should have been there, Goddamnit!"
"Brian, please…"
"No," he says with a finality I recognize all too well. "Just… no." With that he turns and walks out of the room leaving me with fresh tears on my cheeks and an empty ache in my heart.
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I don't remember falling asleep, but I recognize the dream state immediately. Dark and still, just like my heart.
"I can't believe this happened."
Emmett? Is that you? God, I wish I could talk to you.
"I know, me neither."
Michael. I can hardly believe he's here, considering his best friend needs him right now. I want to tell him that, to rant at him for sitting by my bed when Brian is out there grieving for his son.
"How's Brian doing?"
It's as though Emmett can read my thoughts, like maybe I'm actually getting the words out instead of just screaming them in my head.
"About how you'd expect," Michael answers morosely. "He doesn't want anyone around him. He spends half his time here and the other half with Lindsay."
"She's taking it pretty hard," Emmett points out needlessly.
"Can you blame her?"
"No," he sighs. "I just wish…"
"Yeah," Michael concurs silently. "I know. Me, too."
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I don't remember Emmett leaving but by the time I'm able to open my eyes, Michael is the only one there.
"Where's Brian?" I ask without even greeting him.
"With Lindsay," Michael says, getting up to stand beside my bed. "Do you need anything?"
I try shaking my head and am relieved to find the motion no longer inundates me with pain. "No, I'm OK."
He looks like he's not sure what to do next.
"How is he, Michael? Honestly."
His sad, brown eyes regard me for a long moment before he answers. "I don't know. He's not letting anyone in except maybe Lindsay. Not even me."
"He's like that," I remind him. "The Brian Kinney Handbook page 232, remember?"
"More like 232 through 395," he replies in a lame attempt to lighten the mood.
My eyes fill with tears despite my resolve not to let them. "He needs you, though. I can't help him this time, Michael. He can't even look at me without thinking about what happened to Gus."
"Did he say that?" Michael asks, his face paling visibly.
"He didn't have to. How else could he feel? I was there when his son died. How's he ever supposed to get past that?"
"He will," Michael assures me. "He just needs time."
God, I want to believe that, but the ache in my chest tells me otherwise. "Do you really believe that, Michael? Deep down where you know him as well as I do, do you honestly believe that?"
He looks like he wants to cry. "I don't know," he whispers.
I have to swallow a few times to get rid of the lump in my throat at the admission. "I dream about him, you know," I finally say. "Gus, I mean. Every time I close my eyes, he's still alive." I pause for a moment, thinking about the calming effect the young voice has on me, even knowing it's just a dream. "And then I wake up and the reality is almost too much to bear."
"Don't say that," Michael practically pleads. "We'll get through this, we all will."
"How?"
"I don't know," he admits, "but we will. We have to."
"Yeah," I breathe, closing my eyes. "We'll go on. What choice do we have, anyway?"
I know it's true. I know this ache in my heart won't kill me and, likewise, Brian will survive as well. We'll go on.
It's true, we will.
What's tearing me apart is knowing that, this time, we won't be moving on together.
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