It was already late into the afternoon when Justin and Molly returned to the ‘dark manor’ as Molly had dubbed it. Justin had promised to paint her room a lighter color and would help decorate it to fit her own personal style. After carelessly tossing all of his new items on his bed, Justin quickly headed over to Molly’s room to help her unpack all of her new belongings. “You look exhausted,” he comments. She nods, stifling a yawn, “You do too.” “I’m still on adrenaline,” Justin admits. “Here, let me help you put some of this away.” “I’ll do it later,” she yawns again, shoving the bags off the bed and climbing under the covers. “I need to sleep.” Sitting down on the bed, Justin smiles softly, “Okay, Moll. I’m going to put some of your things away for you while you nap.” Closing her eyes, she mumbles a reply that Justin’s can’t understand, and falls right to sleep. Justin watches her for a few minutes before finding himself yawning. Standing back up, he quietly takes out his sister’s new clothing and starts putting them into drawers and in the closet. He was too tired to sleep. He needed to keep moving. If he stopped, then he would have to think. He couldn’t do that. It hurt too much. He just needed to keep moving. After a few minutes everything has been put away and Justin finds himself wandering the corridors. Maybe Uncle Richard is in his room? Turning the corner, he gently knocks on the door of the master bedroom. When no one answers, Justin gently pushes the door open, calling, “Uncle Richard?” The bedroom is immaculate. It has a four post bed and dark red sheets. The mahogany wood added warmth to the room that Justin hadn’t felt in any other part of the house. Cautiously, Justin takes a step forward, and then another towards the bed. He calls a second time, in case his uncle was in the bathroom, “Uncle Richard?” Frowning, he is about to leave when curiosity strikes: Uncle Richard’s night table drawer is slightly ajar. Biting his lip, he quickly looks around. What the hell. Opening the drawer, he takes out a small photo of three young boys in a frame. Justin recognized the picture immediately from his grandmother’s reading room. He used to sit in her room and listen to her old records while sifting through her photo albums, and this was one of those pictures. Alex, Craig and Richard all sat in a line with big smiles on their faces. It reminded Justin of a commercial for laundry detergent because everyone looked so clean and perfect in that photo. He sadly puts the frame back when his fingers graze a second frame wedged in the back of the drawer. Interested, Justin is about to pull it out when he hears someone coming. He quickly closes the drawer and starts to walk towards the door when Richard appears. “Hi,” Justin says, hoping he doesn’t look guilty. Richard is somewhat surprised to see him, “Hello. Is there something you need?” “Um,” Justin stammers, “No, I just…I just wanted to thank you… for letting us stay with you and buying us all that stuff…” Richard nods, “Your welcome.” Biting his lip, Justin starts to walk away, and then without much thought asks, “Why didn’t you ever write back?” Shit, why did I ask that? Richard smiles softly, “You must miss Ethan.” Another twang of pain in his heart, Justin looks down, “We broke up.” He snorts, walking towards his desk, “He stopped bringing you flowers?” “He cheated on me.” Justin answers. He hated that reminder. Hated the fact that he could have had more time with Brian and instead followed Ethan’s words; and his words had meant shit. “I moved out and was living with Daphne.” Richard doesn’t say anything for awhile, and Justin isn’t sure if he was even listening to him. “Uncle Richard?” Looking up towards the window, Richard speaks, “The day I received your letter telling me that you had been bashed on your prom and that you were scared about going to PIFA because of your hand… that same day, something had happened to a good friend of mine,” He closes his eyes for a moment before continuing, “My friend didn’t make it.” “I’m sorry,” Justin says softly. “I hated you.” Justin looks up in surprise, “Pardon?” “I hated you for surviving while Jacques did not. I threw your letter into the fireplace. The thought of you made me want to scream with rage.” Richard admits calmly. Justin swallows hard. He didn’t want to hear this. Turning to the door, he reaches for the knob when Richard continues to speak. “But Bertrand helped me accept it. He helped me not hate you.” Justin can’t help but be bitter, “Well thank you, Bertrand.” Richard smiles sadly. “He’s dead now too.” Justin looks down at his feet. He didn’t know what to say or do. He was angry, hurt and confused and he hated these feelings. Looking back up at his uncle he states, “My parents are dead. You are all my sister and I have left.” He nods, walking back to the bed and sitting down. Keeping his back to Justin, he begins his story. “After Dartmouth, I decided to continue my education in France. I arrived about a month before the semester began in order to meet people and find a place to live.” Justin leans against the door, “Uh-huh,” closing his eyes, he tries to listen to his uncle’s words. “It was then that I met Jacques. He was a student teacher in the department I was entering. We became wonderful friends and he introduced me to his advisor, whom I would later discover was assigned to be my advisor as well: Bertrand.” Richard is silent for a moment. Opening his eyes, Justin asks, “Are you okay?” He nods, “It’s hard to think about the past.” Justin agrees, but says nothing. Standing up once again, Richard continues, “Bertrand and I fell in love.” Jumping up from his slouched position, Justin opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. “He was married and had a son. But we were in love. His family owned this house and Bertrand invited me to live in it. He would visit me three or four times a week. It was heaven.” Clearing his throat, Justin asks, “What happened?” “I started school and realized he was my advisor, so we kept our relationship a secret. I didn’t mind. Jacques also knew, but didn’t tell anyone. Al would fly in to visit me and after the second visit I told him about Bertrand. He told me that I had never seen me as happy as I was now living in France and being with Bertrand.” “So what happened?” Justin asks again.