Disenchanted

Taking the stairs, Justin reaches the loft door and pauses to catch his breath. He’s glad he had money to pay for a cab to take him home. Unlocking the door, Justin steps inside and calls out, “Brian?” Turning off the alarm, he calls a second time, “Brian?” Looking around the loft, Justin’s shoulders slump. “He’s not here.” Closing his eyes, he wills himself not to cry and instead tries to focus on Brian. Actually, he tries to focus on Brian’s car. More precise: the GPS in Brian’s car. It’s parked in front of the diner. Relief flooding his sense, Justin chuckles as fresh tears burn his tired, dry and irritated eyes. For a moment he thought that Brian had been taken. But now, knowing that his lover is safe, Justin settles into the moment of comfort before looking down at himself. “Fuck. I look like shit…and probably smell worse that that too…” he says to himself with a shake of his head. Quickly undressing, Justin tosses the dirty clothing into the hamper and steps into the shower. He zones in on Brian’s car and senses that it’s still parked in front of the diner. Washing quickly, Justin hurries out of the bathroom as he dries off, tossing the wet towel onto the floor before grabbing some clothing. He didn’t want to be alone in the loft. He needed to get to Brian. Pulling on his socks, Justin nearly falls backwards as he tries to hop towards his shoes. “But Mommy, I can do it myself,” the four year old tries to reason. “I know you can, Justin, but…” Jennifer pauses. “What’s wrong?” Plastering a smile, she shakes her head, “Four year olds shouldn’t know how to do those things.” Frowning, Justin tilts his head to one side, trying to understand, “But I can do it.” “Well,” she begins, “You’re special, Honey.” Touching his cheek, she adds, “Just don’t tell anyone that you know how to do this, okay?” “Why?” “Because, it’s… it’s just different. And four year olds should be four year olds.” Kissing his forehead, Jennifer stands back up and smiles; “Now it’s time to go.” Falling backwards, Justin groans, “Fuckin’ shit!” It didn’t hurt, but feeling as though time is running out, Justin lies on his back and lets the tears fall. “What am I going to tell him?” This just wasn’t fair. Sitting back up, he takes a deep breath, and with steady hands begins to tie his shoes. He stops suddenly. The corvette is moving. Closing his eyes, he concentrates on the vehicle and the direction it’s headed. Frowning, he knows that the weight of the car and the weight of his partner are not the same as the weight of the vehicle traveling north known as Brian’s corvette. Which means that someone else is in the car with Brian, but who? Justin tries to focus on the weight distribution and is pretty sure that it is Brian who is driving, and that the second person is in the passenger seat beside him. Taking note of the direction in which the car is traveling, and that it is Saturday morning, Justin concludes that the corvette is being driven by Brian, who is taking Michael to the comic book store. Standing up, Justin sighs. He isn’t sure how he knows these things, but he knows that he’s right. And he isn’t planning on sitting here waiting for Brian to come home. Ignoring his exhaustion, Justin grabs his jacket and re-sets the alarm before leaving the loft. He was going to find Brian and hopefully get the hell of out Pitts.