Chapter 7 He could hear moaning. Someone moaning his name over and over, Justin slowly recognized the voice and realized that it was Andy. Andy needed him. It was obvious now that his lover was in pain. Justin cringed inside as the realization dawned that there was no more money or morphine. They had nothing. Their only abundance came in poverty and desperation. He knew he had to find a way to help him, to find whatever it was that Andy needed, but Justin felt too exhausted to move. Instead, he lay listening to the pleading note of Andy’s voice. It sounded so weak. How he missed the robust laughter and sarcastic wit. Now it was only thin requests and mouthed gratitude. Justin knew he had to move. He had to get up. He had to move to what had once been their bed but now only held the quickly diminishing man that he loved. He had to comfort Andy. He had to find some way to hold the pain at bay if only for another hour. Justin buried deeper into his pillow knowing that he just didn’t have the strength. He didn’t have the resources. He had nothing. He was alone in a dark apartment, in a foreign city, with a dying young man only a few feet way, a few miserable impossible feet away. Justin curled his body into a tighter ball and tried to make it all go away, but then the moans grew louder and he knew Andy was becoming frantic. It was time to find something else to sell. They had nothing left except the sketches, the fucking sketches which had started the whole terrible nightmare months before. How ironic that he would sell them now yet even in the face of his lover’s pain, Justin was still reluctant let go of the precious images. They were all that he had left. They were both his absolution and accuser. How he hated the way that they made him feel. A sudden scream jerked him from his pillow as he sat panting for breath, slick with sweat, trying to decide what to do next. Justin woke disoriented from the dream as he slowly came to the realization that he was no longer in Paris but instead was safe in his mother’s condo. He felt a sudden flood of relief which was immediately replaced by heart wrenching grief as he accepted the fact that his current location confirmed the truth that was lurking on the edges of his consciousness; Andy was gone. He covered his mouth with his pillow so as not to wake his sister or mother. He knew that they were still concerned about his recovery. He sat up knees bent holding the pillow as he buried his face deep within its folds and released the pain that never seemed to completely leave him. It was his fault. It had all been his fault. He’d never been able to let go. His inability to accept his past had cost Andy his future. **************************************************** “Brian, you have a Mrs. Carroll waiting to see you.” The receptionist’s voice offered from the intercom. Brian furrowed his brow trying to place the name. Rising, he made his way out to the main lobby area. “Daphne.” He greeted her, pleased to see Justin’s best friend. The pretty young woman stood. Brian could tell she was pregnant and starting to show. “Brian.” She was pleasant but cool. “Do you have a minute to speak to me?” Brian hesitated as he took in her demeanor. He nodded and gestured to his office. Once inside Daphne took a seat. Brian moved back to his chair and got comfortable before asking. “So what can I do for you?” He asked smiling confidently. “You can tell me what the fuck is going on with you and Justin.” She smiled but there was anger in her voice. “I don’t know-“ “Don’t play naïve or innocent. I know you guys are already back at it.” She sounded more weary than angry. Brian leaned forward feeling confused. He’d always thought Daphne was on his side. “Back at it?” He raised one brow. “You know, fucking.” She spat. “Daphne-“ “Do you have ANY idea how crushed he was by your reaction to his proposal?” Brian was speechless. He had no idea anyone knew about that night except for he and Justin and well now Paul. “He called me.” She explained seeing the look of confusion on Brian’s face. “He wasn’t making any sense. He didn’t make any sense for the longest time. He was so broken.” She could see it so plainly like some horrible movie she wished she’d never had to watch. Her friend, head down, despondent in his despair, reaching to her for help but unable to tell her what he needed. “You did that.” She accused. “Daphne, that was a long time ago.” He tried. “Fuck that. Like his life got better? He just lost his partner. You know, Andy, the man who did love him enough to commit to him?” She challenged. Brian felt the hairs on his neck stand up. “Don’t compare what I feel for Justin to what Andy felt. He fucking exposed him to HIV! I would never have risked Justin that way.” Brian seethed. Daphne was taken aback by his sudden shift in emotion. “You risked him every time you tricked!” She met his words and upped the ante. “We never barebacked. NEVER! I would never have hurt him.” Brian demanded. “Really? You don’t think you hurt him?” Daphne challenged. “This is none of your fucking business.” Brian stood but she stood as well holding her ground. “He’s my best friend. He is my business.” Brian got a glimpse of what Justin’s life must have been like having to answer to Mikey for all those years. He sighed and sat back down. “You’re getting married?” She sat as well. “It’s off.” Brian announced surprising the petite woman. Brian smiled at her shock. “Took some wind out of your sails?” She nodded then regained her composure. “So what are your plans?” She asked leaning back feeling more in control of the situation. It was obvious that Brian still cared for Justin, but she had no intention of leaving without making her point. “Well the ball is in Justin’s court.” Brian admitted. “So he hits it back.” She offered. “You ready to commit this time?” “I was committed.” Brian defended. “Then why did you react like you did when he-“ “He surprised me. I was really in shock I think. I don’t know.” Brian hated talking about that night. It always filled him with the same unsteady sense of loss. “I don’t think he’ll ask you again.” She replied watching as Brian nodded his acceptance of the fact. “But if he did, and you hurt him, I’d be back here kicking your ass.” Brian raised a brow until he realized she was serious. He then hid his smile and nodded again. “I’m not going to hurt him.” Brian promised. “Yeah, you will, but he’s used to it.” She stood. “I just wanted you to know that I’m watching you. If I think you’re about to fuck this up, I’ll do everything in my power to pull the plug. I believed in you before. I used to always take your side and defend you, but not anymore.” Her voice was filled with sorrow and Brian felt it in his core. “I’m not going to hurt him.” He repeated. She shrugged. “Well then we won’t have any problems will we?” She offered as she walked out of his office without another word. ****** Justin could hear voices from the lobby area of Kinnetics. They were like muffled background noise as he continued to focus on the concept he’d been working on all morning. He felt exhausted. He glanced at his watch and realized it was only eleven. He’d been up most of the night finally giving up on sleep and coming in to work at around six, desperately searching for something to take his mind off of the past and all the memories that continued to haunt him. It was nice to get lost in details and drawings and forget about the rest of the world and the realities that were a part of it. Glancing toward the voices which seemed louder now, he realized that Paul Conner was standing in the doorway of the art department staring at him. Justin continued on with his work feeling his head swim slightly as he did so. “Well, well, well.” Paul spat. Justin stiffened as though ready to take the first blow. “If it isn’t poor grieving Justin.” Justin refused to look up. “Paul.” He replied firmly. “Can I do something for you?” “Just checking on your recovery status, how is the grieving widower?” Paul asked his tone mocking and cold. Justin didn’t respond so the man persisted. “Let’s see, denial comes right before sorrow which leads to fucking someone else’s lover.” Paul glared at the man. “You seem to be right on track.” He finished flippantly. “Fuck off, Paul. I didn’t tell Brian to leave you. He left because he wanted to.” Justin leveled back not giving an inch. He was tired of playing the passive in Paul’s little war. “No you didn’t have to tell him. All you had to do was bat your tear filled eyes and shake your perfect ass and then wa-la it’s magic.” Paul spat. “I’m really busy here Paul. Please go away.” Justin was too tired to fight today. He didn’t want to think about Brian or what had happened between them. He was too busy trying to forget about Andy and the nightmare that came night after night. “You really are a gifted artist.” Paul began laughing. “Did you ever think of doing jewelry?” The man asked looking over the Justin’s shoulder. Justin paused for only a second but it was enough for Paul to realize that Justin was sharp and now was also suspicious. Paul watched as the wheels turned inside the blond’s head. Was it merely a lucky guess or did Paul know about the ring? Paul delighted in the conflict he noted in the man. “Go away Paul.” Justin requested solemnly as he added the ring to the other unpleasant things he was trying not to think about. “Well I do need to see Brian.” The man offered more than happy to leave now that his work was done. He’d planted the seed of suspicion, rattling the blond just enough, and also vented a good bit of his own anger. Justin continued to work. Paul paused at the door and watched him. He realized how tired and pale the man looked. If Paul hadn’t hated him so much he might feel sorry for the blond. Lucky for Paul, hate won out. ************************************************** Brian stopped in the door and watched as Justin examined the boards. “Hey.” Brian offered. He was concerned. Justin had been withdrawn for the last few days but today he looked exhausted as well. Justin glanced up. “Your boyfriend was here.” He offered. Brian sighed pushing off of the doorframe as he approached the smaller man. “He’s an asshole.” He offered. “He’s just pissed and hurt.” Justin defended. “Been there done that.” Brian tried not to take the man’s comments to heart but knew what he was alluding to. “You about ready to call it a night? It’s after six.” Brian asked leaning on the drafting table. “No I have some things I need to get done.” The thought of going home was overwhelming. The thought of another sleepless night or even worse one filled with the sound of his dying lover was too much. Frankly Justin wasn’t sure that he face it again. “Justin-“ Brian persisted. “What?” The man absently glanced up at his employer. “Let’s go.” Brian offered not wanting to order the man home even though it was clearly evident that Justin was exhausted. “No, I said that I-“ Justin began. “And I said you need to go home. You need some rest. You look like shit.” Brian spat hoping he could goad the man into leaving. “Fuck you.” Justin spat. “I’m not here to look good. I’m here to work and I have a project and a deadline.” Justin argued feeling slightly desperate to stay. “That’s bullshit. You’re weeks ahead. You’ve been in every morning by six and here it is almost seven and you’re still-“ “You used to work long hours. What’s wrong with me working?” Justin challenged. “I’m just trying to do a good job.” Brian knew it was a lie. Justin was capable of quality work without the long hours that he was putting in. There was more to this. “What are you hiding from?” Brian asked throwing the man slightly. It was in that moment of panic, in that instant before the wall came back up that Brian saw the fear and despair in those familiar blue eyes. Something was very wrong. Brian knew he had to get to the bottom of it. “Brian,” Justin’s voice was weary as he took a seat at the table and took a moment to compose himself. “I just need to stay busy.” He offered realizing denial wouldn’t work any longer. Brian pulled up a stool as well. “Why?” Brian persisted as he picked up a pen and tapped it softly on the table. Justin watched him admiring Brian’s long slender fingers wondering if the man had ever wanted to be an artist. He glanced up and met to warm but concerned hazel eyes. He sighed looking away then back at the man. “I’m not sleeping.” Justin admitted reluctantly. “Why is that?” Brian asked realizing his normal MO was to add a sex joke, but now was not the time for his own personal insecurities. “I have this dream.” Justin began. “It’s pretty realistic.” He turned back to the table trying to find something to work on. Brian reached out stopping his hands. Justin stopped his pursuit but continued to stare at the table. “What happens?” Brian asked softly, grateful that everyone else had left for the day. “He’s sick.” Justin glanced over his voice sounding slightly disconnected. “I know he’s sick but I don’t have any money. I don’t have any more meds. It feels so real but then I guess it should, after all that’s pretty much how it happened.” Justin admitted closing his eyes as the feelings of helplessness crawled up his spine. “I had a few things. I sold them, but some items I just wouldn’t. Andy suffered because I wouldn’t let go of them. He had asked me,” Justin began but his voice broke and Brian realized that this was about more than just helplessly watching someone suffer. Justin was blaming himself. “It wasn’t your fault.” Brian offered using the words that Justin had years back to ease his suffering after the prom. “It was my fault.” The man admitted his chin lowered his despair palpable. Brian furrowed his brow his concern deepening. “No Justin.” He insisted. “You don’t know.” Justin offered his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t understand.” “Then tell me. Help me understand this.” Brian offered. Justin shook his head looking up at his friend. He gave the older man a small grateful smile but shook his head again. “No, this is mine.” He replied. “I’ll head home.” He offered surrendering to the older man’s request. Working wasn’t really helping anyway. The feelings never really left. Brian was at a loss for what to do. He hated watching Justin suffer. He reached out but Justin pulled out of his touch. “Thanks for listening.” He offered with another sincere smile as he turned off his desk lamp and left the room. Brian watched him go wondering what had just happened. He’d come in with the hopes of taking the man to dinner, getting him to relax, but instead he’d just had a glimpse of true self loathing guilt. He knew a little about that. He’d felt it for weeks after the bashing. It had been a prison without bars but just as confining. Rising from the stool he knew he had to find a way to free Justin, but before he could unlock that cell, he had to find out why the man had sentenced himself so mercilessly. **************************************************** “Brian?” Paul stepped out of the shadows as Brian approached the door to the building. “What are you doing here?” Brian asked startled by Paul’s sudden appearance. He’d been lost in thought about Justin’s situation and hadn’t been paying any attention. “I thought I could maybe take a picture or two.” Paul offered softly. Brian paused for a moment before opening the door and ushering him in. They rode in silence up to the loft. Brian unlocked the door and stepped aside as Paul entered. Paul tried not to linger on the familiar smell and look of the place. It had only been a little over two weeks and yet he missed it all so much. “Which ones?” Brian asked wanting the man to get what he wanted then leave. “I want the one of our trip to Vermont. Do you remember that trip?” Paul asked as he headed to a shelf where the picture had always been. Brian was about to stop him but Paul realized the picture was no longer there and turned in confusion. “Where is it?” “In the drawer.” Brian gestured to the hutch that Paul had recently bought. Paul altered his course clearly upset that the picture had been stowed away. “What’s wrong? Did these images interfere with your little fuck fests with the grieving widower?” Paul shot. Brian resisted the urge to rip him a new asshole and let the remark pass hoping that by not arguing it would speed the man’s exit. Paul opened the drawer and was taken aback that all of their pictures were in the drawer. “Do you not want any of these?” Paul demanded angrily. “Nope, take what you want.” Brian nonchalantly headed to the bedroom. Paul looked through the contents of the drawer for a few moments before following Brian up the stairs. Brian was changing out of this suit. Paul stood watching remembering the feel of Brian’s lean muscles under his fingers. He ached to touch the man. He believed if only he could be given another chance Brian would remember how it was before Justin had shown up. “Brian,” Paul took two tentative steps forward. Brian sighed, his back to the man as he tossed his shirt into the hamper. “Paul just take what you want.” His voice was weary. Paul continued forward encouraged by Brian’s lack of protest. Reaching out he touched Brian’s bare back following the line of his muscular back. “I miss you.” Paul admitted moving his hands up now to grasp Brian’s shoulders. Brian lowered his head. He realized then that he should have known that if he gave Paul an inch he would want a mile. “Paul, don’t.” He warned. “Don’t what?” Paul questioned softly as he moved up behind Brian pressing his body against Brian’s enjoying the familiar heat. He realized suddenly how cold he’d felt since he’d left the loft. “Don’t do this.” Brian stepped away abruptly. Paul didn’t resist as he felt the warmth slip out of his grasp. Paul watched the man as Brian moved to the closet and quickly put on another shirt. Once dressed Brian turned to face his ex-lover, “Paul, we both know it’s over. Don’t do this.” “I just can’t quite accept it I guess.” Paul replied truthfully. “I mean I get that we aren’t living together, sleeping together. I miss seeing you, talking to you, listening to you.” He admitted. “I just can’t seem to understand what happened. I mean one minute it was our party and the next there was this blond standing at our table and everything had changed. How could that one moment change everything?” Paul’s voice was soft and compelling. “I told you.” Brian felt exasperated. It had been hard enough to explain it the first time. How many times was he going to be forced to endure it? “It has always been Justin for me. I love him Paul.” The admission wasn’t a surprise but Paul gasped softly in spite of himself. “Love.” Paul smirked shaking his head. “What the hell do you know about love?” He lashed out. “Get your picture and get the fuck out.” Brian announced no longer feeling sympathetic. He was struggling to find a way to reach Justin, he didn’t need anyone else undermining his feelings. His past was indicative that he was more than capable of doing that himself. “Do you really think it will work this time for you? What makes this time different Brian?” Paul held his ground. “Get out Paul.” Brian felt his resolve weakening as Paul verbalized all his silent insecurities. “I saw him today. He’s so steeped in grief. Does he even possess the strength to get back into a relationship with you? Let’s face it Love, you’re anything but easy.” Paul sensed Brian’s insecurities and pressed on. “Do you think it’s fair of you to expect that of him? Wouldn’t it be more merciful to walk away, to let him heal and then find someone who can really give him what it is that he needs?” Paul implored. Brian looked up wrestling within, grappling with what Paul was suggesting. Was he being cruel to Justin? Was he asking more than what the blond had to offer? Should he back off and give the man the space he needs? He kept seeing Justin sitting at his drafting table, his shoulders hunched forward, his face pale, his eyes dark and lifeless. “Paul, please go.” There was a pleading note in Brian’s voice that revealed how effective Paul had been in his latest attempt to undermine his ex and his delusional fantasies involving the long lost blond. “I’m going. Just think about what I’ve said. We were good together, Brian. We understood one another. Can you say that about Justin? Did he ever understand you?” Paul moved to Brian kissing him on the cheek. Brian made no move in response. It was as if he hadn’t noticed. Paul left the pictures in the drawer feeling certain he would be back where he belonged in no time at all.