downward

“Why do they say that everything tastes like chicken?” Justin wonders aloud as he sniffs the food on his fork. Molly chuckles, “Says a lot about chickens, huh?” “It’s true though,” Adriaan concludes as he puts down his fork, “This tastes just like chicken.” “I think I’ll just have some chicken,” Justin decides. “There isn’t any chicken,” Abigail comments, looking over at the array of food on their table. “But how about the sirloin? That’s pretty close to chicken.” Everyone at the table laughs. Well, except for Brian. He rolls his eyes and finishes his wine. “Justin,” Adriaan begins, “You must be excited about tomorrow’s show.” He grins at his on-again/off-again girlfriend’s older brother. Justin grins widely and Brian can sense the sardonic tone in his voice, though he is sure no one else can as he announces, “Thrilled.” “That’s so incredible,” Abigail laughs happily, “I mean, you’re like going to be famous.” “My brother was pretty much big news back home, you know,” Molly interjects to her friends, “He won a ton of awards for his art, both when he was in high school and again when he started college.” Smiling at her brother, she adds, “My mom would never shut up about how proud she was of him.” Justin smiles sadly and takes a sip of his wine. He missed his mom. He missed his dad. He missed his old life… that life was gone now, and who knew what would happen tomorrow. Finishing his wine, he reaches across the table and pours himself another glass. Maybe he’d get lucky and drown in the bath tub tonight. Brian frowns, sensing the sudden dropping of shoulders from his husband’s once up-beat and overly-charged posture. He tries to meet Justin’s gaze, but the blonde noticeably averts his eyes away. “Thanks for letting us tag along,” Adriaan says in his most polite voice, smiling at Molly. Molly smiles back, blushing slightly. Brian rolls his eyes and wishes that his husband would stop hogging the bottle of wine. Noticing that Justin was just picking at his food, he asks, “Not hungry?” Justin shrugs, finishing his second glass of wine and pouring himself a third. “I think we need to order another bottle.” “You’re going to be sick for tomorrow’s show,” Abigail warns in a sing-song voice that Justin supposes is her fashion of acting motherly. Justin forces a smile, wanting to say so much, but refraining. Instead, he sips his wine. Brian pulls out his wallet, “I’m done eating anyways too,” tossing two hundred dollars onto the table, he announces, “Justin and I are going upstairs. If you want to add more to dinner, just have them bill our room.” “Thanks!” Molly, Abigail and Adriaan state happily. “Hey, maybe we can go hang out in the game room afterwards?” Abigail suggests. “Totally!” Molly agrees. Justin finishes his third glass as Brian pulls him away from the table. “I wasn’t done,” Justin states with annoyance, but lets himself be led away by his husband towards the elevators. The blonde stumbles a few steps here and there as he comes to the conclusion that three glasses of wine on an empty stomach may not have been the smartest move. Neither says a word until the elevator doors open. Once inside, Justin leans back against the mirrored wall and closes his eyes. “Drunk?” Brian asks, though he knows it’s really more of a statement than a question. “Tired,” Justin corrects. He was just so fuckin’ tired of everything. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Brian sighs loudly. He wishes that Justin wasn’t so obtuse and would just say what was on his mind. The doors open and Justin pushes himself away from the wall and stumbles out, letting Brian take hold of his upper arm and lead him safely back to the room. Sighing, he keeps his eyes closed. Why bother opening them if he was being led? Closing the door behind him, Brian leads Justin to the bedroom and watches and his husband drops onto the mattress without a word. Brian sighs loudly, again, before bending forward to pull off his husband’s shoes and socks. Straddling him, he begins to undo his belt, “Justin?” “Go away,” Justin mumbles. He can feel his pants being pulled off and hears another aggravated sigh from his lover as his underwear begins to be pulled off as well. Straddling him once again, Brian begins to unbutton his partner’s shirt, “Do you want to order something to eat here?” Justin wants to shake his head, but he feels as if the room is already moving side to side for him. So instead, he whispers, “No.” Brian huffs, slightly pulling Justin up so that he can remove his lover’s shirt before letting Justin’s head loll back and his upper body return against the bed. “Going to sleep then, Sunshine?” Justin smiles bitterly. Standing up, Brian goes to the bathroom to take a piss. When he returns, Justin still hasn’t moved. Shaking his head, he leaves the bedroom and goes to the living area; plopping himself on the sofa and turning on the plasma television for background noise before picking up the phone to call Carl. Justin slowly opens his eyes. He can hear the television on in the other room. Exhaling, he tries to sit up, only to fall back again. “I can’t do this,” he whispers to himself. They had come so far and now… what if it was all in vain? What if this made everything worse? What if THIS was the end? Rolling over, he lets his body slowly rolls off the bed and onto the soft carpeted floor. It’s not like he was giving up… okay, maybe he was. But it was for the greater good. Brian could go on with his life and be successful and happy. He liked Molly. Justin knew his husband would take good care of her. It was better this way. If he was gone. No one would bother them again. It would be easier keeping Molly safe rather than both of them. Crawling to the bathroom, Justin closes the door behind him and stares at the marble tub beside the glass shower stall. The dream still lingers in his mind. He had left with the professor. He let the professor take him away… away from Brian and Molly. They would be safe. He let the professor do what he wanted with him… it didn’t matter. It was because of Daniel that they were in trouble again. If Justin left with Daniel, then things could go back to normal. Normal…. That was laughable. When he had woke up, he couldn’t shake the feelings of disgust. Daniel West. He hated that man. But there was truth in his dream. If he was gone, then Brian wouldn’t have to lead a different life. Brian could stay in Pittsburgh and be with his family. Molly could become Molly Kinney and stay with him or go to the nearby boarding school in Amsterdam. They could be happy. They didn’t have to be afraid. Turning on the water, Justin slides his body into the basin of the tub. Keeping his eyes closed, he thinks about his mom and how proud she always was of him. Was he failing her? Yes. The tears start to pour down his cheeks and he doesn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point? He was so tired of running. He was so tired of being strong. He didn’t want to be strong! He didn’t want to be ‘Oh, Justin, he’s a survivor.’ Fuck that. Fuck all of them. And Brian… Biting his lower lip, he thinks about his husband. Brian: who lets him cry and vent and scream… but for what? So that Brian feels it’s up to him to save lil’ ol’ Justin? To risk his life over and over again for ‘poor Justin’? To sacrifice his own family to protect ‘delicate Justin’?? If he wasn’t strong, then he was weak. And he didn’t want to be either one. Not now, not ever. The water continues to rise and it feels so good against his tired muscles. Sliding down farther, he sighs as the warm water kisses his shoulders. He didn’t want to die. But he didn’t want to live. This wasn’t a life. This was not a life. This was a charade. A pretend life with pretend smiles: but who were they kidding? Tomorrow their plan would be put into motion and if it didn’t run perfectly then someone would be dead. And what if that person is Brian? Bending his knees, the cold air hits the top of his bare skin and Justin quickly bends them to one side so that they can stay engulfed under the warmth of the water. He lets his body slide farther, letting the water pass his lips as the back of his head rests against the side of the tub. Turning his head to one side, he wonders if he could just fall asleep. He was so comfortable in this position, it could happen. The water nears his nostrils and Justin knows that it’s now or never. He could move now and go back to ‘life,’ or he could end it all. It no longer amazed him to view life as frail. Life was fragile. There was no control in it. Control. Well, this was one thing he had control over: being in this tub, with the water rising slowly. Tilting his head upwards slightly, he inhales the air around him. To live or to die… Hamlet’s soliloquy really did say it best. To die, to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end. Was that what Justin wanted? To end? After all of this… was it time to just give in and say ‘oh well, we tried. See you in the next life!’ Well this truly was a choice.