Incendiary

Chapter 3 - Accelerant

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Justin

I feel him tense at my question and I automatically do the same. "Brian?"

The look on his face is all the answer I need and I swear it's like I'm back in the loft, the wall of heat and deadly flames surrounding me, engulfing me. Burning me. I place my hands on his chest and push him back just a step. Just enough to breathe. I ignore the pain that shoots up my forearms in favour of the one slicing through my heart. "Answer me, Brian. Where the fuck were you?"

He looks away from me, his jaw tightening. When he answers, it's in a flat tone, a voice without inflection, a word without meaning or feeling. No emotion, no regret, no fucking apologies.

"Babylon."

"Mr. Taylor?"

I turn slowly to see the nurse standing hesitantly before us. I glance around at the crowded waiting room, my gaze lighting briefly on Debbie and Michael before returning to the nurse. "Yes," I say quietly.

"I have your aftercare instructions. Did the doctor go over the dressing changes with you?"

I clear my throat as best I can. "Yes, he did."

She nods. "Good. I've printed them out here for your reference. As the doctor has informed you, the burns aren't too serious. The most immediate danger right now is infection. It's important that you follow the instructions for changing the dressings."

I nod once. "OK."

"He's also prescribed something for pain, taking into consideration your allergies, of course."

"Thank you," I say, reaching out to take the sheets from her only to stare at my useless bandaged hand.

In a heartbeat, another hand is there, taking the sheets easily between his uninjured fingers. "Thank you," Brian says as he looks over the instructions.

The nurse nods in his direction, then returns her attention to me. "You're going to need help doing simple, everyday tasks until those bandages come off. Is there someone who can stay with you?"

"I'm his partner," Brian tells her, not giving me a chance to answer. "I'll make sure he has all the help he'll need."

She looks between the two of us uncertainly, obviously picking up on the thick tension radiating in waves from us. "Oh, Ok. Good. Any sign of infection, you need to have them looked at right away."

"Ok, thank you," I say once again.

"You're welcome." She looks at Brian and then at me before offering a hesitant smile and turning away to resume her other duties.

"Ready to get out of here?" Brian asks.

I stare at him for a moment before turning and walking out the doors to the street. Once outside, I feel the need to gulp as much clean, fresh air as I can. This is so fucked.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and angrily shrug it off, walking a few steps to put some distance between us.

"Justin…"

I whirl to face him, no longer able to contain my anger. "You were with a trick, Brian? While I was walking into a fucking inferno for you, thinking you were fucking dead, you were busy fucking a fucking trick?"

"Justin…"

God. There was a time when hearing his voice say my name was enough to thrill me.

That time has apparently passed.

"No!" I stop, closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths. By the time I open them, I've managed to regain my composure. No surprises here. Brian is who he is, who he's always been, who he always will be. Not because, as his friends may believe, he can't change. Because he won't. Because he doesn't want to.

Because I'm not reason enough.

"No," I say more calmly this time. "Don't tell me it's just fucking, that it doesn't mean anything."

"It doesn't."

I step towards him, my hands in his face. "And what about this? Does this mean anything?"

His eyes flash with anger. "You act like I started the fucking fire! Christ! How was I supposed to know that was going to happen?" He rubs a hand irritably through his hair. "Who the fuck asked you to go running into a burning building, anyway? I thought you were fucking smarter than that! What the Hell were you thinking? You could have been fucking killed!"

"I thought you were in there!" I shout back. I wanted to spare the people in the waiting room this, but don't seem to care about the people on the street.

Funny how that works.

"And that makes it OK? That's supposed to make a difference?"

"Wouldn't it to you?" I demand. I'm so fucking furious with him right now I can't seem to stop yelling at him. Or maybe I just don't want to. "Maybe it would make a difference if it was one of your tricks trapped inside! Somebody you hadn't already fucked and fucked over!"

His eyes harden and I'm sure he's going to keep yelling at me. They flick to my hands and he shakes his head slightly. "Fuck this."

I watch his back as he stalks away, I'm assuming to wherever it is he parked the car. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Michael and Debbie watching us both, their heads turning back and forth as though witnessing some sort of macabre tennis match. Without a word, Michael moves to follow Brian, leaving Deb to approach me.

"Justin, honey, has anyone called Jennifer?"

"Molly has a soccer tournament this weekend," I inform her listlessly. "They went up a couple of days early for a practice clinic."

She nods in acknowledgement. "Well, then, why don't you let me take you home? You can stay in Vic's old room until you figure out what you're going to do."

What I'm going to do? What I'm going to do about what?

A place to live?

Useless hands that can't even grab a fucking sheet of paper?

About …

About Brian?

Until I figure out what I'm going to do

What a fucking joke.

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