Fire
Part 1
Justin was working the early shift at the diner, topping the saltshakers and refilling the napkin holders when he first heard. It was Vic who came looking for him to break the news around six thirty Saturday morning.
“We tried to call you last night, but I guess that your phone was out of order.” The fucking phone bill, Ethan had meant to pay it. He just kept forgetting.
“Why? Has something happened?” No, Vic always came to see him at the diner at dawn. Idiot.
“There was a fire at Brian’s loft.”
“A fire?” He repeated what Vic had just told him, trying to understand what the words meant. “A bad fire?” No, it was out in five minutes, that’s why they want you to know about it at six fucking thirty.
“The place is totaled, the whole building was destroyed. Just the walls are standing.”
“…Brian? Was he there?”
Vic gave him a short nod. “They managed to get him out, but he was unconscious from the smoke and—he was hurt. He’s in the hospital.”
“But I just saw him last night around two, he was at Woody’s with the guys and he was laughing. He was fine and…oh, fuck. Was he smoking in bed? I kept at him not to do that and he did it anyway…was that what caused it?”
He shook his head. “They think it was an electrical fire down in the basement. Some kind of short or something. He was lucky, not all the tenants got out. The people on the third floor didn’t make it.” Vic was being calm, that was probably why they sent him to deliver the message, and they knew that he’d be calm. “He’s asking for you. Deb asked me to bring you over.”
“He’s hurt?” Justin was panicking; he could feel the redness in his thoughts and knew that he wouldn’t be thinking clearly right now. Yes, he was in the hospital and Vic said something about smoke inhalation and burns. Of course he was hurt. Vic wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t hurt. Fuck. Damnit.
Vic took his jacket from the hook by the kitchen door. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
The ten-minute drive to the hospital took ten days while every thought and memory that Justin could drag up about the last two years flipped through his mind. The first night on Liberty Avenue, the prom, Gus’ birth, the dozens—hundreds of times they had made love, the shower, dancing at Babylon and in the street at Pride, dinners with the family, fighting with his father, the arguments, Ethan, Rage.
Fuck.
Brian was hurt and was asking for him.
Fuck.
He should call Ethan.
He’d do that when he knew something.
Fuck. Brian was hurt.
Walking into the familiar waiting room he saw the usual suspects gathered in the usual positions of waiting—standing around, leaning against the walls, sitting uncomfortably on the hard plastic chairs. Michael hovering between tears and anger, Deb worried and trying to hold the others together, Ted and Emmett pressed together, Linds alone, probably leaving Gus with Mel.
“Any word?”
“No real change, he’s still asking for you, Justin.” He nodded.
“Where is he? Which room?”
A nurse was beside him. “Are you Justin?”
“Come with me, please. He’s tired and weak right now and he might not make too much sense because of the pain killers, but he wants to see you.”
They stopped outside of a room, Justin pausing. “Is he badly burned?” He was picturing the nightmare images he’d seen in movies and on TV, the people with scars and no skin and just holes where features used to be. God, Brian couldn’t end up like that.
“He looks pretty good. He was lucky. Most of the damage was from the smoke and his lungs took the brunt of the damage—and the shoulder, of course.”
“But…No one told me anything about his shoulder—what was…”
“It was pretty badly broken. I think they said that a ceiling beam or something fell and pinned him onto the bed. That was why they had such trouble getting him out; I gathered that it was a big one that landed on him. If the bed hadn’t absorbed a lot of the weight, he probably wouldn’t have made it. He’s lucky it didn’t land on his head.” She smiled at that, as if she somehow found some humor in it. He thought that she must see a lot of stuff, working here.
“How badly is he hurt, though? Will he recover?”
“Well, like I said, his lungs are damaged and he has a pretty badly crushed shoulder, but the burns aren’t too bad considering that they were localized to just his chest and arm. It’s too soon to know about whether he’ll need grafts or not, but he’s a tough character. It looks like he’ll handle what he has to and he seems to have a lot of support.”
He still hesitated. “Look, I don’t know what to…”
“Are you his boyfriend?” She was matter of fact about it.
“…I used to be, but lately I’ve been with another…”
She fixed him with a look that would have rivaled any that Brian was capable of. “Fine. Now you listen to me. He’s hurt and he’s in pain and by all rights he should be dead. The only thing he wants right now is to see you. Now you go in there and hold his hand if that’s what he wants and if you say anything to upset him I’ll take it out of your ass, do you understand me?” Nodding, he started away from her when she caught his arm. “Oh, and with his lungs in the shape they’re in right now, he won’t be doing much talking, so you talk for him, OK?”
Taking a breath, he walked through the door.
The room was in semi darkness and there was a man in the next bed, the one closest to the window. The privacy curtain was drawn around the other guy so all Justin could see were his feet. He was probably sleeping. There was a slight smell of smoke. Brian was in an oxygen tent; his left arm was heavily bandaged. There was an IV running into his right hand. He was partially upright on pillows and was breathing through his slightly opened mouth. Justin could hear every breath as it wheezed in and out. There were some burns on his neck and chin on the left side, probably from the hot beam, but other than that his features were fine. The nurse was right, he had been lucky as far as that went.
He realized that he released the breath that he had been holding—he’d been afraid that there would be damage to his face. That would have killed Brian. His mind flashed to that old Mel Gibson movie—“The Man Without a Face” or something like that, the one where Mel has some kind of accident that turns his face into hamburger so he becomes a recluse…until the faith of a pure hearted boy saves him from himself, of course. OK, so Brian wouldn’t have to play out that scenario. Good, he would have sucked at that.
“Brian? Can you hear me?” He spoke quietly, not knowing if he was still awake and not wanting to bother the guy in the other bed.
After a moment Justin saw the eyes open. “Bri?”
Brian’s eyes slowly focused on him. “It’s me, Justin.” Brian just looked at him, whether he knew who was there or not was anyone’s guess. Justin moved around the bed to Brian’s right side, the one less damaged. He carefully put his hand on Brian’s wrist avoiding the IV, noticing that the shell bracelet was gone, replaced by a plastic hospital ID..
“They said that you were asking for me. I’m glad that you did. I would have come anyway, but I’m glad…” He stopped, not knowing what to say. “You’ve been there for me all those times, after the bashing, when I needed a place to stay, when I needed money for school. I want to pay you back. I owe you big time.” He tried to give his smile, but it wasn’t working too well right now. He kept up his stream of babble, not noticing the look on Brian’s face—either not noticing or just assuming that the pain there was caused by his injuries. “In a way I’m glad that I can clear the slate a little after all the help you’ve given me. Maybe I can repay some of what you did for me all. I owe you a major payback and you know how I am about paying off my debts.”
Brian looked at him for a long minute then shook his head ‘no’ slightly, just enough to read, and he looked more hurt than even his injuries would account for. He whispered a single word, “Go.” It was so soft as to be almost inaudible.
“No, I’m staying here with you, I’m not going to leave you. You stayed for me.”
Brian’s expression, beyond the pain was now one of sadness. And he repeated the whispered order, “Go.”
“No.”
Closing his eyes and moving his wrist away from Justin’s hand, Brian shut him out. He wouldn’t respond to anything Justin said, he had shut down. With no alternative, the young man walked from the room to find Michael standing just outside of the door.
“Asshole. You were the only one he wanted to see and you kicked him in the teeth.”
Christ, like he needed this now.
“You’re the only one he wanted to comfort him. He still loves you, wanted you here and you show up making it sound like a fucking balance sheet, like it’s an old debt you’re finally able write ‘paid’ on and file away. You think you could have come up with a way to hurt him any more if you had more time to think about it?”
Justin stared at Michael. Bullshit, that wasn’t what he’d meant, Brian knew that. “That’s not what I said and it’s not how he took it.”
“Right. And that’s why he threw you out after two minutes when he’s been asking for you since the firemen cut him free and loaded him in the ambulance. You made it clear that you’re just here to even the score from the bashing. You walk out on him in front of everyone after all the shit he did for you and then you sucker punch him when he’s lying in pain in a fucking hospital bed.”
“Michael, that’s not what I meant, he knew that.”
Debbie moved over to where they were arguing. Good, she’d shut Michael up.
“Sunshine, I think it might be best if you let Vic drive you back to the diner or school or someplace now.” She was subdued, serious and she wanted him to get lost.
He just stared—Deb, too? He hadn’t meant what they thought. Shit, was that what it sounded like? Fuck. He had to tell Brian that wasn’t what he meant. He would have come here if he’d had to crawl, they all knew that. Oh, fuck.
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Three hours later Ethan found him sitting on the bench by the cafeteria. Planting a quick kiss on his cheek, he asked, “So, why so serious?”
“You haven’t heard?” A headshake followed by a questioning look. “There was a fire last night, Brian’s building was totaled, some of the tenants were killed, Brian’s in the hospital.”
“Shit. Bad?”
“Bad enough. I went to see him and said everything wrong that I could have and he threw me out. He’s the one in the burn unit and I feel like shit.”
Ethan tried a small smile. “Well, if he felt well enough to toss you out, he must be OK.”
“I acted like an asshole. I hurt him and he…”
“Justin, I’ve told you before, he’s the asshole and he hurt you lot’s of times. Who calls his ex for Chrissake?”
Someone who still loves his ex.
“C’mon, let’s get some lunch before the line gets too long.” Ethan nudged him with the violin case.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll meet you later, OK?”
“Justin, he’s a jerk. Forget it. He’ll be OK. His friends are there, right? He’s got health insurance, doesn’t he? He’ll be fine. Come on. I’m hungry, eat with me.” Reluctantly, Justin got up and joined his boyfriend for lunch, eating nothing and toying with his food while Ethan told him about an upcoming competition.
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At midnight he realized that trying to sleep was pointless so, taking care not to wake Ethan, Justin placed his feet on the floor, stood, dressed himself and quietly left the apartment. An hour later he was at the hospital, surprised by finding Brian’s bed empty and no sign of him ever having occupied the room.
“Excuse me?” The young nurse looked up.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to see Brian Kinney, but I think that he might have been moved. Would you know where he is?”
“Visiting hours are from six to eight.” She sounded like a bitch.
“I know, but he was asking for me last night and I just got in from Harrisburg. Could I just sit with him or something? I won’t bother him or anything. Please?”
“I could get in trouble.”
“I won’t tell anyone who let me see him. Honest. I won’t even wake him up. I swear.” He tried his smile on her, that usually had a melting effect on women. It seemed to do the trick this time, too. It had worked for him for years.
“You can’t disturb him, do you understand? He needs rest and it’s late.”
“I promise.”
“OK—Room 704, but you didn’t hear that from me. And don’t wake him up.”
Ten minutes later he had pulled a chair next to Brian’s bed. He was still getting oxygen, but now it was from one of those nose tube things. The IV was still in place and his shoulder looked like it had further surgery, though it didn’t have a cast on it. The bandages on it were new, anyway. He had a couple of day’s worth of stubble on his face and his eyes were shadowed with what was probably pain. His torso still elevated, occasionally he would groan to himself. His breathing was still labored.
Seeing him shiver, Justin moved to pull the blanket higher the movement causing Brian to open his eyes.
Looking at Justin for a long second Brian whispered “Cold” and closed his eyes again. Putting his hand on the uninjured side of his neck, Justin could feel that his skin was like ice to the touch. This wasn’t just needing another blanket. Pressing the call button, he waited for the nurse.
“I think that he’s in shock or something. Could he be having a reaction to some meds? He has a pretty high tolerance, but if he’s been given the wrong thing it could send him into a reaction.”
“Who the Hell are you, honey?” The night nurse was checking his vitals and the various machines.
“A friend of his.”
“Are you Justin?” She was looking at the chart.
“Yes, why?”
“I’ve been wondering if you would come in to see him. He’s been saying your name in his sleep and wanted you to know that he’s sorry.”
“He did?” Despite the circumstances, Justin was inordinately pleased.
“Actually he said that he ‘fucked up’ but that you’re still a—I believe that he called you a ‘twat’.”
Justin smiled at that. “Yeah, he would.”
A doctor walked in. “There’s a problem here?”
“It looks like a reaction to the antibiotics and maybe delayed shock from the original trauma or the surgery, Doctor.”
Nodding, the man asked Justin to wait outside while the problems were dealt with. An hour later the nurse found him at the end of the hall.
“He’s lucky that you broke the rules to see him tonight. He has a better chance of improving now that we know what not to give him. How did you know, Justin?”
“I’m allergic to a lot of things, I’m used to seeing the symptoms, that’s all.” He wondered, “Could he have died from that?”
“You mean the reaction tonight? No, it wasn’t that bad. He wouldn’t have felt too good, though.” She gave him the first smile he’d seen from her. “He’ll have you to thank in the morning.”
“Nurse?”
“Nancy.”
“Nancy, is he going to be OK?”
“I think so. His lungs will be a while healing and he won’t be able to smoke anymore—I mean he won’t be able to smoke anything anymore. And his shoulder may never be 100% again, but with therapy he should regain most of it with any luck.” She started to walk away then turned back. “You know that’s the easy part, don’t you? The hard part comes when he has to rebuild what he lost.”
“You mean the stuff that was burned?”
“…Yeah, that, too.”
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Later that day Ethan met him after life drawing class, obviously angry. “You couldn’t even leave a fucking note?”
“I guess that I should have, but I knew that you’d be upset so I…”
“You just walked out in the middle of the fucking night.”
Justin was tired, worried and really not in the mood for theatrics. “Look, can we do this later?”
“And that’s going to make a difference?”
Justin tried to move past him to get to his sculpture class. “I’ll be late, I have to go. Look, can we talk about this after class? I don’t have time now.”
“You sure as shit made time for your old meal ticket.”
Justin stopped walking, opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind and continued to class.
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Around dinnertime Justin was back at the hospital, startled when he found Brian’s bed once again empty, this time, apparently, temporarily. Nancy was passing by when she saw him standing by the window.
“They took him down to radiology, he’ll be back soon. You could go get yourself a sandwich and he’ll probably be here when you finish.”
He shook his head. “Not hungry, but thanks.”
“Want a soda with me? I’m headed to a break.”
A minute later they were in the nurses lounge drinking soda from the vending machine.
“So you and Brian are a couple?”
He didn’t look at her. “We were, on and off, for a couple of years, but I’m with someone else now.”
“He’s depending on you quite a bit to pull him through this. He was, anyway. What did you say that upset him so much?”
Justin looked at the cheap scarred coffee table in front of him. “Brian doesn’t depend on anyone. He says that the only one you can count on is yourself.” He took a drink of his coke. “And I said exactly the fuck what he didn’t want to hear.” His eyes met hers. “He’s right, I was being a stupid twat.”
“You’re the kid who got bashed, aren’t you? I remember you from last year and I watched the way he looked after you. I don’t know what’s happened between the two of you, but he sure as hell loved you then.” She paused a second. “Look, it’s none of my business, but if you don’t want to be around him then go, because he needs help now, not shit.”
“….I know.”
“He’s got as much to get through as you did last year and he’s going to need to lean on you to do it. If you’re not up to it, go home.”
“Nancy, he has other friends and we’re not together anymore.”
She finished her soda and tossed the can in the recycling bin. “Maybe, but you’re the one he wants.”
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Michael was sitting next to Brian when Justin walked back into the room. Facing the door, Michael saw him before Brian was aware that his old lover was there.
“Bri? I’m just going to get you some fresh ice, I’ll be right back.” Grabbing Justin’s elbow, he propelled him out of the doorway before he could say anything.
“What the fuck are you doing here? After your little performance, he doesn’t want you.”
“The fuck you know anything.”
“I know he cried for over an hour after you left, so get the Hell out of here. They had to give him shit so that he could sleep, asshole. Like he fucking needed that.”
“I didn’t mean to say the shit I did, I was upset and it just came out. I want to help him.”
“Yeah, well you’ve helped enough. On top of his injuries and knowing that everything he owned was destroyed in the fire, you let him know that you just see him as a bad debt to be paid back. Do you have any fucking idea how much you hurt him? You learn that from your father?”
“What do you mean with that, asshole?”
“You know, sucker punch him then kick him when he’s down?”
Justin tried to push past Michael. “I’ll talk to him, I’ll make him understand that I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
“Justin, just fuck off. Go home to your new meal ticket. Stay the Hell away from him.” Michael turned abruptly back into the room, closing the door behind him.
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“Deb?” An hour later Justin was standing at the counter at the diner. “Could I speak with you?” She would listen to him, she’d understand that he cared about Brian and just wanted to help.
The dinner rush was over. “Jimmy? I’m taking a break.” With obvious reluctance she walked over to him. “Come out back with me.” A minute later they were standing behind the building in the evening warmth.
“Deb, I didn’t mean what everyone thinks I did. It just all came out wrong. I want to help Brian, I still care about him but no one believes that.”
“Justin (he noticed that she didn’t call him Sunshine), I believe that you want to help him and I believe that you didn’t say what you really meant the other night, but you hurt him so much.” She was close to tears. “You have no idea how hard it was for him to let you through all those stone walls he’d built up. He fought like Hell to not let you through and when you did—in seventeen years I’ve never seen that kid as happy as he was when you two were together. There wasn’t a single Goddamned thing he wouldn’t do for you and you fucking know that.”
“Deb, I know, I…”
“And you walked out on him in the way that you knew would cause him the most possible pain you could. You took everything you could from him. You took his time and his money and his love and then you spit in his face.”
“I know—I was wrong and I…”
“And then when he’s hurt and asking for you, you—you fucking turn his pain and his needing you into a way for you to make yourself feel good about your charity and a chance to pay him back.”
“Deb, I know that was how it sounded, but that’s not what I meant t…”
“You know what? I don’t give a fuck what you meant.” She wasn’t going to let him off, not at all, not even an ounce of caring beyond what he had put Brian through. “You’ve heard some of the shit he dealt with when he was a kid, his parents hated him, his father beat him. He grew up knowing that no one gave a rat’s ass about him and after a while he believed that it was because he wasn’t worth loving. He fucking believes that down to his toenails. I did what I could to let him know that wasn’t true, but he was always too smart for me, always had a sharper argument. Then you came along and somehow, you fucking made him care. He fought it for a long time because he knew he’d end up getting shit on and then when he finally let himself love some one—you, you stomped on him with both feet and you fucking proved him right.” She stared him down. “And you broke his heart.”
“Please, I want to see him and tell him that it’s not like it seems. Deb, I did—do love him.”
“Too little, too late.” She heard Jimmy calling her from the kitchen. “I’ve gotta get back. Justin? You stay away from him at least until he’s stronger. He doesn’t need your crap right now.”
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He walked into the apartment, having heard Ethan practicing from down on the street. As soon as he opened the door, the music stopped.
“You look like shit.”
“Yeah, probably. You don’t have to stop.”
Ethan put the violin down in it’s case on the garage sale desk then went into the bathroom. “You see Brian?”…It was called from behind the closed door.
“Not really. I went, but they wouldn’t let me.”
“I have a lesson tomorrow at eight thirty so I’ve got to make it an early night. Come to bed, OK?” He wandered out and over to the bed, now naked, his hand stroking up Justin’s back through his tee. Managing a half smile, he removed his clothes and climbed onto the old mattress beside the musician.
“You’re with me, right?”
“You know that I am. I’m right here.” He rolled over onto his stomach because that was what he knew Ethan liked, felt Ethan’s mouth first on his shoulder then sliding down the indent of his spine.
“You want me. You want to be with me and you want me inside of you.” His hands were stroking Justin’s ass, parting his cheeks, stroking between them.
“I want to feel you in me and I want your hands on me and I want…”
“You want me to fuck me like he fucked you.” The hands became increasingly insistent, not as gentle as they were, angry and not loving. “You close your eyes and pretend that I’m taller and thinner and older.” The fingers were pushing into him roughly, no lube and causing pain as he intended them to do. “You pretend that you’re in his fucking loft and that there’s a kitchen full of food and a closet full of expensive clothes and that the shower tomorrow morning will be big enough for everyone in the fucking building.”
“Ethan, I don’t want him. I want you. Just you, I want you to be in me. I want you.”
Without warning the fingers were pulled from him, Ethan’s weight was gone. “Get the fuck out.”
“What? We’re together.”
“You asshole. I could be fucking anyone. It wouldn’t matter. You’d pretend whoever you were with was fucking Kinney.”
“No—I want y…”
“Get the fuck out.”
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Justin dressed as quickly as he could and, not knowing where else to go—the loft was destroyed, Deb wouldn’t have him, he couldn’t, wouldn’t go to any of Brian’s friends, his mother would freak, he finally ended up taking three buses to the hospital.
The nurse, Nancy saw him as he walked down the corridor, smiled and didn’t stop him. Pushing the door open as quietly as he could, he sat, again, next to Brian’s bed, watching him sleep, hearing the painful wheeze as he breathed in the oxygen. The door closed them in their own world of machines and pain and antiseptic odors.
In the dimly lit room he could make out Brian’s face, relaxed, seemingly devoid of pain for the first time that Justin had seen him since the fire. Sitting there, his mind went back to his own waking one night after the bashing on another floor of this hospital, seeing Brian standing outside the window of his room. He could clearly remember seeing the fear on his face and the knowledge was proof that Brian loved him.
He had never told Brian he had known he had been there.
Justin thoughts moved on what his life would be if he hadn’t met Brian. Of course, he’d still be gay and might even have found a lover who he would be reasonably faithful to; maybe he would have even fallen in love.
It wouldn’t be like what he was feeling now.
He loved Brian, that was never the question. Sure he loved him. He had loved him from that first night. He had even told Daphne that he had seen the face of God.
That was such bullshit.
Brian was no fucking god and he hadn’t loved him that first night or even the first few months, maybe longer.
He knew that now.
He had wanted Brian, his body, certainly and he had been intrigued by his intelligence and honesty, his values and the way he lived his life but he hadn’t loved him at first. He said he did, but he didn’t know.
It was only after time had gone by, after they had finally started the first tentative dance back and forth towards friendship that he had begun to understand the depth of feeling that might, maybe, be possible between them despite the scaring on Brian’s soul.
He had chafed at how slowly they moved, the resistance from Brian, his refusal to admit that he had feelings for him or that he would be willing to accept anything from him other than sex.
The catalyst, the bashing had almost finished them before they could understand what they would be to one another.
Neither of them had a clue how to deal with that. Not a fucking clue. It had taken months but finally, painfully, they had gotten there.
It was good, they were happy, they loved each other, their friends knew and were happy for them and they knew what they had together and that it would likely last if they allowed it.
Then Justin had screwed up.
He had decided that he needed Brian to be more romantic, more like a suitor in some trashy romance novel than a real flesh and blood man. He had ignored the fact that Brian was pulled in ten directions everyday, that he had the boys to deal with and work, the munchers and Gus, his insane mother, his father’s death, his promotion, Justin’s parents and Debbie railing at him constantly and Michael’s countless screw ups where he and Brian were concerned.
And he never complained about all the crap that was dumped on him, never said anything when Justin needed money or sex or a ride somewhere.
Justin had just seen that he wanted picnics and flowers and had ignored that Brian was coping with enough shit to sink the fucking Titanic.
And then he had walked out on him during the fucking launch party he had hosted for Rage. Fucking walked out in the middle and then shat on him whenever they ran into each other.
God, he had completely fucked up. When he had screwed Brian he had screwed himself twice as hard.
Oh, bullshit.
Like Hell.
Brian was the one left alone.
Brian was the one everyone had blamed when he had done everything he could frigging think of to help Justin, Brian was the one no one would talk to, who was exiled to fucking Siberia and the one everyone looked at with pity.
And the pisser was that he still loved Brian, he had never stopped.
It had all been because of a temper tantrum thrown by a spoiled brat, a fucking drama queen in full blow.
God, he had fucked up.
He didn’t want fucking Ethan. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about Ethan.
His thoughts tumbled on; spinning along the tracks he had started them on. He willed Brian to wake up, to get better and to want him again. He wanted to make it right and for them to love each other and to be happy again.
He wanted to help him find a new home to replace the loft, one that could belong to both of them. He wanted to walk into the diner holding hands and see the looks on everyone’s faces. He wanted to wrap himself around Brian in bed and feel him inside.
He wanted them together.
God, he wanted that with all his heart.
He wanted to tell his mother and his fucking father that they were back together and he wanted a ceremony like Mel and Linds had, even if no one else was there besides the two of them.
He wanted Brian to want him.
He would do whatever it took to get Brian better, he’d help with the physical therapy and make sure that he stopped smoking and he’d even make sure that he had that shitty power drink he liked in the fridge.
He’d wanted them to love each other again.
What was that old song? Something about you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone? Well, this wasn’t gone, Damnit, it was just sort of on vacation for a couple of months.
C’mon Bri, open your eyes, we can start right now.
I’ll tell you how Goddamned sorry I am and I’ll tell you how much I love you and you’ll tell me that it’s OK. C’mon, Bri.
We—I wasted enough time with this. It was me. I was the one.
Just wake up and we can start being us again.
You want that, I know that you want that.
We can go to fucking Vermont or wherever you want whenever you’re ready, or we can just stay home, I don’t care.
Just say that it’s OK and that we’re back together, OK?
I’ll work on the comic with Michael if you want. I’ll even make friends with that asshole for you if that would make you happy.
You just do a couple of things for me—will you?
You’ve got to love me again and you’ve got to stay home once in a while and the tricks—I know you and I know it’s a lot to ask, but not in front of me, alright?
And maybe we can cut down a little on the drugs and the JB.
It’s just because I want you safe. Remember when you said that to me? When I wanted you to fuck me raw? You said that you wanted me safe.
I want you safe and I want you around for a long time.
In the silence of the room he felt Brian’s eyes on him, reaching over, he took the hand lying on top of the thin blanket, still careful of the IV tubing.
The look on Brian’s face was cautious, wary, like a dog wondering if it were about to be kicked again.
“Bri? I love you.”
Brian gave him a small smile and managed, “I know.”
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