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+ Six +

Brian awoke to the sound of his alarm clock. He stretched and smiled. He had had a great night's sleep thanks to his new wheelchair and a certain blond from downstairs. He smiled. He had loved the sense of speed and freedom from his new chair. He was going to do that again.

And then there was Justin. That ride with him on his lap had been so much fun. He couldn't remember the last time he had had fun. Justin had been hesitant at first, but that was because he didn't want to hurt Brian's legs. He hadn't been afraid of Brian or of the chair. In fact he had seemed to like it.

And that kiss. Brian could almost feel the sweet lips on his own. He touched his bottom lip with the tips of his fingers. A little shiver shot up his spine. Christ, he was acting like some fucking schoolgirl!

He needed to get some work done. Cynthia would be over later in the day with the mock-ups of the ads for the chewable vitamins. He decided to start the day with his exercises.

About ten-thirty there was a knock on the loft door. He groaned inwardly. Who could it be now? Suddenly his heart leapt in his throat. Maybe it was Justin. He whipped over to the door and pulled it back. There stood his blond smiling that radiant smile and looking good enough to eat. It took every ounce of willpower Brian possessed to stifle the growl that wanted to escape his throat. He wanted Justin Taylor with every fiber of his being.

"Hey," he said with what was probably a stupid grin plastered on his mug.

"Hey," Justin smiled back at him. "I loved my ride last night. I wondered if you would like to have coffee and … start over."

"I don't go out much," Brian said lamely. He thought Justin was asking him to go to Starbucks down the street.

"We don't have to go out of the building," Justin said. "I have coffee and some more of those muffins from yesterday at my place. I think they're still edible."

"Yum, day old muffins! My favorite!"

"Asshole."

Brian was slightly taken aback at Justin's choice of words, and so was Justin if the look on his face meant anything.

"Don't say it," Brian ordered as Justin opened his mouth.

"Say what?"

"Sorry."

"How do you know that's what I was going to say?"

"Asshole is not usually a word you use to describe someone's behavior on the second encounter," Brian explained with a smirk.

"Third encounter," Justin corrected.

"Oh, yeah," Brian smiled. "The look on your face was priceless when 'asshole' came out, not that I didn't deserve it."

"My mother would have been horrified at me."

"Mine would take it as another indicator that I'm going to burn in Hell," Brian said shaking his head. He could tell Justin was going to ask about his mother. "Don't ask," he said quickly. "It would take way too long and you'd be none the wiser at the end of it."

"So…" Justin said seeing that Brian wanted to change the subject. "Do you want day old muffins or will you venture to Starbucks with me … or do you want me to get lost?" Justin asked seeing Brian hesitate.

"Not every place is wheelchair accessible," Brian admitted. He wondered if Justin could tell how much it hurt him to have to admit that limitation.

"Well they damn well should be," Justin said vehemently. "It's not your fault if they're not. If you're game, let's go to Starbucks. It's a beautiful day. And if the fucking Starbucks down the street won't do, we'll keep going till we find one that is. Oh, and if it's halfway across the city, you can give me a ride back." Justin's face lit up with that wonderful smile.

"You're on," Brian said with the next thing to a giggle. He had no idea why he agreed to this, but it sounded like an adventure and he had so enjoyed his adventure last night. Justin had been part of that too. Maybe there was another kiss waiting at the end of it.

They made their way out the back of the building and down the street. Brian glanced around nervously. Suddenly he wasn't so sure this was a good idea. He felt himself recoil as each pedestrian passed near him. People seemed to be staring at him and the chair. His breaths began coming in gulps and his pulse pounded in his head. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he could feel it under his arms and down his back. Brian realized he was having a panic attack. It had been so long since he had actually been out on a sidewalk in daylight in a crowd. When they had gone to the restaurant he had people all around him. Now he was on his own, or almost.

"Are you all right?" Justin said stopping and looking at him with concern in his eyes.

"Not really," Brian gulped.

"We don't have to do this. Do you want to go back?"

Brian nodded. "I think that's best."

He turned his wheelchair and made for the loft as fast as he could go, arms pumping frantically. People brushed past him and he heard someone call him an asshole. Others looked warily at him like he was some kind of freak. To them he was.

"Brian," he heard Justin call.

Brian knew he was leaving Justin behind but he had to get back to the loft, to safety. He heard Justin call his name again, but he kept going. When he reached the laneway he was panting and sweating profusely. He whipped open the back door and saw the elevator was on the ground floor thankfully. He raised the gate and hit the button for his floor. He took some deep breaths. He could feel his hands shaking as he raised the gate and saw the door to his loft. Quickly he opened it and entered. He slammed it behind him. He sat gulping for air just inside the door.

Seconds later someone pounded on the door. He nearly jumped out of his skin. He stared at the door but did nothing.

The pounding continued. "Brian, Brian! Are you in there? Brian, please, talk to me. Tell me if you're all right." Then the knocking resumed.

Brian knew Justin was out there. He sounded worried. Brian knew he couldn't answer or open the door. He had made a complete fool of himself. He should have known better than to try to go out like that. He had spent almost two years cutting himself off from the world. He was stupid to think he could just go back. A pair of blue eyes had tempted him to try. A delicious ass had lured him out of his safe haven. The hope of another sweet kiss had conned him into believing he could have a normal life. He should have known better. He wasn't normal and he could never go back. He needed to stay where it was safe. He couldn't have friends or a lover or fucking coffee for that matter. He wouldn't allow himself to think so again. He wouldn't be tricked by kind words from a sweet mouth. He would stay close to home where it was safe and predictable and boring as hell.

He wheeled himself up to the shower. It would wash away the sweat, if only it could wash away the fear and humiliation too. He could still hear the knocking on his door. The shower would drown that out in a minute.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hours later Brian sat staring at his computer screen. He had tried to work. He had tried to exercise. He had tried to forget. But the image of a scared, cowardly cripple in a wheelchair running away from the only thing that had made him happy in such a long time was firmly emblazoned on his brain. He couldn't get rid of it no matter what he did.

He could see the confusion on Justin's face. It would now be replaced with loathing he had no doubt. Who in their right mind would want anything to do with a cripple, a scared little faggot cripple at that?

Brian turned off the computer losing whatever he had been trying to work on. He didn't care. He wheeled himself up to the bathroom. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet pulling out three bottles. He went into the bedroom and grabbed the bottle of painkillers he kept on the nightstand. That ought to be enough. He opened each bottle lining them up carefully beside the bed.

He wheeled down to the fridge grabbing a bottle of water. He heard the buzzer go off. He halted for a moment waiting for it to stop. It was probably Justin trying another tack to get in. He could never face him again. This was for the best. The buzzer went off again. The guy didn't give up easily.

Brian ignored it and continued up to the bedroom. The phone rang. He waited for it to stop or be picked up by the machine. It was Cynthia. Shit, he had forgotten that she was coming over.

"Brian, Brian, I know you're there. What's going on? Why aren't you answering?" her worried voice demanded. "Pick up this phone right now!" she ordered.

He waited. She kept saying she knew he was there, calling for him to answer, begging him to reply. Finally the line went dead and there was silence in the loft.

Brian hauled himself onto the bed. He picked up the first bottle of pills and downed them followed by some of the water. He did the same thing with the second bottle. He wondered if that would be enough, but he didn't want to take any chances. He swallowed the third bottle finding it more difficult to get them down and kind of tricky to keep them down. He could already feel something weird happening. His stomach was rebelling, but he refused to throw them up.

He looked at the last bottle knowing there was no way he could swallow them without upchucking. What he had taken would have to be enough. He slid down in the bed closing his eyes and willing it to be over quickly.

Almost immediately he heard the loft door opening. A voice called, "Brian, Brian!" He ignored it staying quiet, hoping Cynthia would go away.

The next thing he knew someone was slapping his face. He blinked and tried to turn away. Cynthia shook him.

"What the fuck! Leave me alone," he ordered.

"Brian, what have you done?" Cynthia demanded.

"Did you take all these?" Justin asked seeing the three empty pill bottles.

"Fuck off!" Brian ordered turning away. He groaned. Justin was there. He would see what a fucking pathetic SOB he was. He closed his eyes willing them both to disappear.

"Brian, did you take those pills? How long ago? If you did, you have to throw them up," Cynthia said. "Justin, get some water and mix it with salt."

Justin raced to the kitchen. He returned quickly with a glass of cloudy looking water.

"Drink this!" Cynthia ordered holding it to Brian's lips.

"No," Brian replied pushing her arm away. "Get out, both of you."

"Call 911, Justin. He'll have to go to the hospital and have his stomach pumped."

"No," Brian rebelled, "no hospitals."

"Then drink this or I'll call 911. You're not fucking dying on me," Cynthia stated.

"Please," Brian begged, "just leave me the fuck alone."

"Give me the phone, Justin. I'm calling 911 now!"

"No," Brian reacted, "give me the fucking glass."

He took a large drink of the horrible liquid and began throwing up immediately. Cynthia held the wastebasket for him. When he seemed finished she made him take another drink of the salt water. He threw up a bit more. Justin offered him a fresh bottle of water when he was finally finished.

Brian slumped back on the bed exhausted. He was even more humiliated than he had been before this started. "Are you both satisfied now?" he snarled. "Get out."

"So you can do this all over again?" Cynthia asked. "I don't think so. Justin, get him another bottle of water. We need to flush out any residue still in his system."

"How do you know so much about overdoses, Nurse Kratchet?" Brian demanded.

Justin snorted and went to get more water.

Cynthia rolled her eyes. "It's a long story."

"How did you hook up with him?" Brian asked nodding towards Justin's disappearing backside.

"I was buzzing the apartment and calling you on my cell phone when Justin came down to get his mail. I pounded on the door and he let me in. I told him you were expecting me, but you wouldn't answer. I was freaking out. He said you'd had a bad experience this morning and that scared me even more. He said he'd come up with me. Luckily you didn't lock the door. You scared the shit out of both of us."

"Why didn't you mind your own fucking business?"

"You are my business, you big lug. Now drink this," she said passing him the bottle of water Justin had just brought back."

Brian downed a good portion of it. "Now will you leave?"

"No."

"Cynthia…" Brian didn't know how to finish that statement. Cynthia, go home. Cynthia, stay out of it. Cynthia, let me do what I have to do. Cynthia, thank you for saving my life, fucked up as it is. Cynthia, I don't know what the fuck to do.

"Brian, you need help. We can't leave you like this."

"You afraid I might be successful next time?" he asked with a grimace.

"Yes," she said softly. He could see the fear in her eyes.

"If you leave, I won't…" He couldn't say it.

"I could stay here," Justin volunteered. "I just live downstairs."

Brian groaned. That was the last thing he needed.

"I think we should call one of your doctors," Cynthia replied.

"I've had enough fucking doctors to last a lifetime … however long that may be," Brian said with irony.

"See, you need help."

"No, I fucking do not. No doctors!" Brian yelled.

"Then Justin stays," Cynthia stated.

Brian knew when he was beaten. He didn't doubt for a second that she would call his doctor or the paramedics or the psych ward. Cynthia was like a bulldog. That was one of the things he liked and respected about her. It made her good at her job. It also pissed him off at the moment.

"All right," he gave in. "Justin can stay."

"Good," Cynthia said. "I brought some mockups for you to look at." She hoped he might take an interest in work. "Oh shit, I left them in the lobby," she said realizing she had dropped them there when she started talking to Justin. "Justin, could you go down and get them. They're leaning against the wall by the front door. I hope they're still there."

"Sure," Justin agreed and went off to do the errand.

"Pretty clever how you got him out of the way," Brian smirked.

"I don't know what triggered this, Brian, but Justin said something happened this morning that involved the two of you. Sort it out while you have the chance. And don't you fucking ever do anything like this again!"

"Yes, mother," he said in mock contrition.

"I ought to smack you upside the head," she observed.

"Please don't."

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked, her tone softening. He nodded almost imperceptively. "Be nice to Justin … and talk out whatever happened."

Brian grimaced, but Cynthia ignored him and leaned down to kiss his cheek. He tried to glare at her but she could see something else in his eyes. She squeezed his hand and felt a responding pressure.

"I'll be here tomorrow morning. I want your input on the mockups. Understand?"

He knew she meant a lot more than the mockups. He nodded. She turned abruptly hiding the tear that threatened to run down her cheek.

"Walk me out, Justin," she commanded.

Justin obediently followed her out to the elevator. He gave one backward glance to Brian. The man seemed to be taking in the empty nightstand. Justin had removed the pill bottles while Cynthia talked to Brian.

Brian watched them disappear from view. He ran his hands through his hair. What the fuck was he going to do? If he had a razor he'd slit his wrists. With his luck though, Justin would come back just in time to rescue him. Justin … that was how this whole fucked up thing had begun. He was sure Justin was out there right now getting his instructions from Cynthia. Christ, that woman could be a tigress. When she first buzzed the loft, he should have invited her up, taken the mockups, kicked her out and then taken the pills. What was it they said - hindsight is twenty-twenty? How was he going to get through a whole night with Justin in his apartment? How was he going to face Cynthia tomorrow morning? How was he supposed to face the rest of his pathetic life?

He rolled over onto his stomach and pulled the sheet up around his head. Maybe the blond would get the message that he didn't want anything to do with him.

A few minutes later Justin returned with another bottle of water. He placed the cold bottom of the bottle on Brian's neck huddled under the sheet. Brian jumped at the cold.

"Drink this," Justin said.

Brian rolled over and drank some of the water. Blue eyes studied him. He wanted to scream at the blond to go away, but he knew he wouldn't. Silence was the best approach.

"Want some dinner? I could make something."

Silence.

"Do you want to look at the mockups? I'll bring them up."

Silence.

"Can I get you anything?"

Silence.

"Would you like to come sit in the living room?"

Silence.

It went on and on with Justin asking him anything and everything he could think of to make conversation. Brian refused to respond. He drank his water and lay staring at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night for both of them.

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