Picture provided by Susan ____________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 2: Justin didn’t linger at Babylon. He’d danced with a few guys and had a couple of beers, but that was all. No fucking, not tonight, he wanted to get home to Brian. And, when he did so, he found him back in bed, asleep. Quietly, he undressed down to his underwear and crept under the sheet beside him; surprised to find that he still had on the clothes he was wearing before. Gently, he slipped an arm around Brian’s waist and snuggled up behind him. Brian moaned softly in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Even with the little light there was coming in through the windows, he looked pale and exhausted, despite having spent most of the day in bed. For a long while, Justin lie there, going over in his head everything that had happened between them in the last few days. It seemed like Brian had hurt his back like he said, but there was something in his attitude and behaviour that told Justin this wasn’t the only problem. Something else was bothering him or had upset him and Justin hoped he hadn’t done anything to spoil the relationship they had fallen into; a relationship that he was enjoying and one he’d thought Brian had begun to as well. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When Justin woke on Sunday morning, he stretched out his arm, expecting to touch his lover, but the bed on that side was cold and empty; he was alone. Getting up, he found Brian already seated at the computer. “How long have you been up?” he asked, padding down the steps. “Oh ... not long”, came the reply, when in fact Brian had already been there for a couple of hours. Waking up to find Justin with him, he’d got up and put on some coffee before sitting down and trying to do some work. He knew the best thing to do was to try and force himself to concentrate on something, taking his mind off his bruises and what had happened. Brian had decided he wasn’t going into the office tomorrow. He didn’t think he could face that many people and thought he’d try and do as much from home as he could over the next few days. In the morning, he would ring Cynthia and get her to send anything over that he might need, continuing the line that he’d hurt his back. He would deal with this just fine, he told himself. “How are you feeling today?” Justin asked, making for the kitchen. “Better … thanks”. “Have you had any breakfast?" asked Justin. "I can make some toast and I think there may be a couple of eggs ….”, and he took some bread from the refrigerator, which he put in the toaster. “Just toast will be fine.” Whilst he was waiting for the toast, Justin put on some more coffee and got out some plates. He then buttered the toasted bread, which he took, together with the fresh coffee, and placed on the desk in front of Brian. “Justin ... I’m gonna be pretty busy all day today ... I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on ... so don’t make any plans that include me ... okay?” said Brian, not daring to look up at him. “Okay ... fine”. Justin replied quietly. He felt hurt; not only was Brian unwilling to talk about whatever was bothering him so much, after sending him off to Babylon last night, he was now telling him he didn’t want him around today either. “I guess I could go over and see Daphne ... we didn’t really get much chance to catch up before”. “Okay ... why don’t you do that?” and Brian picked up the toast, forcing himself to take a bit, but it went sour in his stomach. Justin ignored his own breakfast, now not having much of an appetite and without another word he went into the bathroom to shower and then dress and 15 minutes later, he returned to the living room. “Will I see you tonight?” he asked, putting on his jacket. “I’ll be here”, said Brian, again without looking up at him. Justin left and Brian closed his eyes. He’d heard the pain in the blond’s voice as he sent him away, but he didn’t want him at the loft today. Brian knew he was only trying to offer him comfort, but waking and finding Justin’s arm around him, being in physical contact with him, had caused a sudden, unexplained wave of panic. He’d slipped out of Justin’s hold and out of bed; the blond hadn’t stirred. Thankfully, Justin hadn’t wanted a goodbye kiss. He’d allowed Justin to kiss him yesterday, as he didn’t want him to suspect anything was wrong, but as time went on the thought of being touched was starting to repulse him, something that shocked him to the core. How could he ever feel like that, especially with Justin? Another feeling started to creep into Brian’s mind. Feelings of guilt: Guilt for allowing the assault to happen in the first place and guilt for how he was now treating Justin. It wasn’t the blond’s fault and yet he was being made to pay for what had happened: becoming hurt and rejected for something he’d had no part in. Brian had brought countless guys back to the loft before, never needing to know their names or anything about them. Maybe up until now he’d just been lucky. He’d certainly never thought about it before, the possibility of something like this happening. He’d never considered himself a target: vulnerable. He knew he should probably tell Justin; he would want to be there for him. But he couldn’t bear him knowing; he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone finding out that he’d been unable to prevent the attack. Brian was beginning to wonder if he’d wanted it that way, eager for another thrill that just got out of hand. He may be a fag, but he was no pushover. He was tall and strong, so how could it have happened so easily? He could never admit that he’d lost control of the situation, allowing himself to be beaten and assaulted. Assault: at least that’s what Brian kept telling himself, over and over, unable to acknowledge the truth. Rape. Such a small word: A small word with a huge impact. And now he’d said it to himself: barely able to admit it, but he couldn’t get it out of his head. And yet he still couldn’t understand why it seemed his world was falling apart. He’d endured many beatings from his Father over the years, with either a belt or his fists; in the end had almost become immune to them, blocking them out. And it wasn’t as if he’d never been laid like that before. Okay, until he met Justin, he hadn’t bottomed for anyone since he was a teenager, but that surely couldn’t be the reason. After all, wasn’t it just sex: meaningless, anonymous sex, even if it was endured at the point of a knife? Suddenly, Brian’s hands were shaking and he pushed himself up out of the chair, needing to get to the bathroom. The coffee and toast he’d consumed was rising up and he barely made it in time and after he’d emptied his stomach, he sat on the cold floor, hugging his knees, defying the tears that threatened to overcome him. Dealing with it? He hadn’t even started. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Daphne, what the fuck am I going to do? He's not really talking to me and he doesn't even want me around". Justin was sitting at his best friend’s kitchen table, holding his coffee cup with both hands, pouring out his heart. "Justin ... I'm sure it isn't anything you've done. It probably is his back getting him down or more than likely something to do with work". He shook his head. "No ... it's more than that. Brian can handle work … I think he even enjoys the pressure and he said his back wasn't so bad this morning ..." and Justin finished his coffee and placed the cup back in its saucer. "It has to be something I've done ... there's no other explanation". "Hey, don't worry ... things will work out ... you'll see", and Daphne reached across the table and took his hand. "I'm not so sure this time, Daph", replied Justin, trying hard to keep the tears in check. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Brian didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the bathroom floor, but gradually, his hands had stopped shaking and he’d managed to pull himself up. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and what he saw shocked and disgusted him. How could he allow someone to turn him into this? Where had his fight gone, to be replaced by this miserable wreck? And he went back into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. "Why the fuck can't I handle this?" Gradually, the bruises to Brian's body would heal, but the damage to his emotional state was likely to take much longer to recover, if it ever did completely. He slept, fitfully, throughout most of the day, unable to continue with the work he thought he would get through and only getting up again as it started to get dark. When Justin came back that evening, he found him on the sofa watching TV and with a glass of Beam in his hand. "Hi". "Hi … you’re back ... how was Daphne?" "Okay ... how about you ... how are you feeling now?" "Me? Never better", Brian answered him, downing his drink, but not taking his eyes of the screen. Justin sighed. It always sounded like Brian was dismissing him, never welcoming conversation; shutting him out all the time. He'd seen Brian's barriers come up before and he felt as if he were walking on eggshells: Treading the line between showing him enough attention to let him know he was concerned, without crossing over into territory Brian wasn't comfortable enough to allow him to enter. At least he hadn't actually told him to get out; yet. Slowly, Brian got up from the sofa and put down his glass. "I'm gonna grab a shower", and he left Justin standing in the living room as he collected fresh clothes from the drawer in the bedroom and then the blond heard the bathroom door close. Brian never closed the bathroom door, neither of them did; they'd never felt the need. Justin swallowed hard: and it seemed there was yet another barrier between them. Justin busied himself, cleaning up in the kitchen. The loft was rarely this untidy, Brian was normally such a stickler for everything being in its place, but for some reason he just wasn’t bothering at the moment. When Brian re-emerged 15 minutes later, he was still wearing the joggers he'd had on before, but had now put on a clean short-sleeved tee. Thankfully, the marks around his wrists had faded enough for him to discard the long-sleeved top he'd been wearing. He'd caught Justin's questioning glances. He never usually covered himself up so much at home or in Justin's presence. Justin was sitting on the sofa when Brian returned to the living room, collecting his glass and going over to pour himself another shot. Justin watched him, wondering just how much alcohol he’d actually consumed. “Have you eaten?” the blond asked him. “I had something earlier with Daphne ... but I can get you something if you want”. “No thanks”, replied Brian, waving the bottle in the air. “I’ve got everything I need right here”. Justin stood. "Brian, can we talk?" and he walked over to him and put his hand on the man’s arm. Brian hadn't heard him cross the floor and jumped at the sudden touch. Justin took his hand away. "Have I said or done something to upset you in some way?" "Not now, Justin … leave it" said Brian and he returned to his seat in front of the TV. Justin closed his eyes and sighed. "In that case I'm going to bed ... are you coming?" “I’m not tired”. “Since when did we have to be tired to go to bed?” asked the blond. Brian shook his head. "There's a movie on later I wanna watch. You go right ahead … don't wait up for me". There it was again; Justin was being dismissed. Angrily, he took the steps up to the bedroom and undressed; climbing into bed alone. "What the fuck am I supposed to do when he won't even talk to me?" Justin had hoped that by now, Brian would at least start to open up to him a little, talk to him about things that mattered, but that hadn't happened; he still kept everything bottled up inside. Brian settled down to watch the movie. No, that wasn't correct. The movie was on, but he wasn't exactly taking it in. “What the fuck am I gonna do? How am I gonna handle this?" It pained him to keep Justin at arms length and he knew how much it hurt the blond also. Maybe he should get help: go to a shrink. Brian hated that idea: talking to a complete stranger about how he felt, opening himself up for analysis; he could hardly do that with people he knew, but he couldn't help smiling to himself. With his fucked-up childhood, he could probably keep some psychiatrist in employment for years, trying to sort out what was going on in his head. He tried to make himself comfortable, feeling the warmth of the alcohol in his empty stomach. He'd just have to say he fell asleep on the sofa: no big deal. How could he tell Justin he couldn't share the bed with him? Maybe he should tell him to leave, for a while at least. But surely that would only confirm that something was wrong and he didn't want Justin talking to anyone else about him: especially Michael. If Michael thought something had happened he'd be round like a shot, trying to find out what it was, wearing him down until he told him. No, he couldn't allow that. He would just have to try and maintain the façade that everything was fine; work through this as best he could. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Monday morning and Justin was up early. He had school first then some free time to do his assignment, followed by a late shift at the diner. He'd offered to swap for someone; he didn't normally work so late on school nights. He stretched out his arm and wasn’t really that surprised to find that the bed was cold. Discovering Brian wasn’t beside him, Justin pulled the sheet around himself and went to look for him. He found him asleep on the sofa, the empty glass lying on the floor and silently, he picked it up and took it to the kitchen. His heart heavy and aching in his chest, Justin headed for the bathroom; Brian slept on. To be continued.