You can dance,go and carry on Till the night is gone And it's time to go If he asks if you're all alone Can he take you home,you must tell him no 'Cause don't forget who's taking you home And in whose arms you're gonna be So darling,save the last dance for me ---> The Drifters ~~~~~~~~ “No, No, No, No, GOD!” He clung desperately to the broken body lying crumpled in his arms. The cheek pressed against the blonde’s hair was now stained blood red from the liquid running from the wound on the side of his head. A few of the party-goers had been attracted to the pained yells coming from Hobbs’ mouth, so now a decent sized crowd had formed. Including Daphne. Tears poured down her cheeks as she stared at her broken friend in the equally as broken Brian Kinney’s arms; ignorant to the fact her peach dress was soaking up the blood she’d crouched in. In the distance, sirens blared. “I’m sorry Sir but we need you to let him go so we can take him to the hospital”, one of the paramedics had told him while trying to pry Justin from his arms. Eventually conceding, he never once removed his hand from Justin’s the whole journey, choosing just to listen to the slow beeping of the machine as he stared intently at his young lovers bandaged head. Brian let his eyes slip shut, just for a second. That’s all he could afford, he felt if he closed his eyes Justin would slip away from him. When he licked his lips, he could taste blood. He could smell the blood. That’s the only thing that kept reminding him this was real and not some fucked up nightmare. It’s that which made him sick to his stomach. He wished he could just wake up and he’d be back at the loft with Justin. Least there he’d know Justin was safe. He watched as the gurney was wheeled from him, his heart shattering as he watched what might have been his future getting further and further away. He followed, as if in a dream like stance. On the way he’d heard the EMT’s mentioning something about him suffering from ‘shellshock’ but can they fucking blame him? You don’t watch your eighteen year old lover being smashed over the head with a wooden bat and come out of it emotionally stable! His footsteps were slow, his legs shaky as he finally collapsed into one of the uncomfortable orange seats, staring into space. He needed his best friend. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to use his cell but soon the slightly annoyed voice filled his ear. “M...Mikey?” His voice was lost sounding, somewhat distant. “I…hospital Mikey…please…” His voice cracked on the please and he had to hang up, knowing he would come to him. And he did. It was only then did Brian allow himself to cry. So much for ‘Ridiculously Romantic’.