Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

Justin

"Justin, open the fucking door before I knock it down," Brian threatened.

He had just enough time to throw his shirt back on before unlatching the door. A pissed off Brian came storming in. Justin ignored his presence and continued to get dressed, slipping into his pants.

The older man admonished, "What was taking you so long?"

He finally looked Brian squarely in the eyes hoping that his splotched skin was fading.

"I was...uh...," he faltered, trying to think up an explanation.

The fuming brunet stepped closer and his eyes went wide.

Fuck me. Of course, Brian would notice. Although, he would have had to be blind not to.

"What the fuck happened to your face?"


Brian reached out and grabbed Justin's jaw, tilting the blond's head involuntarily so he could examine the raw, blotchy skin.

"Oh, uh...that was actually what I was looking at. I think that I'm allergic to the new soap my mom bought," Justin replied as nonchalantly as he could. He scratched his arm for effect.

Brian looked a little skeptical, but didn't make an issue out of it. He stared at Justin for a bit longer, then finally suggested, "Maybe you should take some Benadryl. Unless of course you're allergic to that too."

"Ha, ha...very funny."

Damn, that was close! Luckily, Brian had immediately zoned in on his face. The rest of his blistering skin was covered by now.

"Finish getting dressed so we can watch some TV," Brian ordered.

He was turning to walk away, but paused to say something else.

"Does your mother have any Benadryl? Otherwise, I can take you to a pharmacy," he added as an afterthought.

"No, that's alright. My mom has some right here," Justin quickly offered, opening the medicine cabinet and removing a pill bottle.

He walked into the kitchen just as Brian was extracting an Evian from the fridge.

"Here, take this."

"Thanks."

He was surprised at how considerate Brian was being at the moment. It made him feel kind of warm and tingly, but that soon passed.



Brian

Two weeks had gone by and he was beginning to get an inkling that something wasn't quite right. Brian couldn't really pinpoint what it was.

Justin seemed to be getting better. Physically his strength was returning and he had gained some weight. Emotionally, he was smiling more often. However, Justin still would not share anything about his sessions with the shrink or talk about Ethan. Brian had tried to get the kid to open up, but had failed every time.

What had happened to their connection? He thought that through everything they had always maintained a strong bond. He couldn't fathom why Justin chose not to confide in him or anyone else for that matter.

Justin's seemingly miraculous steps toward recovery made Brian all the more suspicious. It didn't seem authentic to him. However, Justin never allowed him to get close enough for him to judge. The lad had constructed a wall that he couldn't penetrate, at least not yet.



Justin

He purposely kept Brian at arm's length. It was a necessity for many reasons. The most important reason being that the man was too sharp and posed the biggest threat to his charade.

Justin had succeeded in convincing his mother and his friends that he was already improving. But the horrible truth was that after seven therapy sessions, there had not been one iota of improvement. He was miserable and growing weary of projecting a happy exterior while inside he was wallowing in guilt and self-loathing. The worst part was that the nightmares still haunted him.

Since he and Brian weren't involved sexually, it was easy for him to keep his new deep, dark habit a secret. He retrieved the pocket knife from inside his shoe and flicked it open. He had gotten it from his dear old dad when he was trying to get Justin to take an interest in the boy scouts.

With the way his father felt about his gay son, he would probably approve of Justin's instrument of choice for inflicting his self-imposed sentence for being alive. The irony did not escape him. He watched as the sunlight glinted off the smooth edge.

As usual, his thoughts returned to Ethan, with his dark curly hair and sexy smirk. The young musician had loved him even in the end. Justin sat with his legs off the side of the bed and pushed down his sweats, exposing the fleshy inside of his thigh. He held the edge of the knife to his skin and sliced, just enough to draw some blood.

The pain seared through him and he grimaced. He repeated the cutting two more times. Then he watched for a minute, transfixed as the blood slowly trickled down the side of his leg. Satisfied with the result, he reached for the washcloth and wiped the area clean. He had to apply pressure to it for a moment to prevent it from bleeding again.

Pain...it made him feel and absolved him for a short while from his guilt.

He was always very careful to do it in a place where no one would intrude. Molly's bedroom had become the only barrier between him and his worried family and friends.

It had started a week ago. Justin had cut himself every day since. He tried a couple of days ago to go an entire 24 hours without it, but he couldn't. He needed to cut to make it through the day. It was the only thing he was in control of and it was becoming addictive.



Brian

He was shocked when Cynthia buzzed him with an important phone call. It was Dr. Vaughn. His heart nearly stopped beating.

"Is Justin okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Kinney. He's not at the hospital, so I assume he's at home. I was just calling to see if you would stop by my office later. There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"If it has to do with Justin, I can be there within the hour."

"That would be fine. I'm free for the next couple of hours. See you then."

"Bye."

After hanging up, Brian felt a knot in his gut. What could the doc want to see him about?

He was too preoccupied to look over the boards for the new Dandy Lube campaign. Fuck it, he'd have to trust Ted to handle it.

As he pulled up to the hospital in his 'Vette, he had a sense of dread. Brian knew for certain that the shrink hadn't called just to shoot the breeze with him. He tried to recall the man's tone during their brief exchange. Had he sounded concerned or worried?

Fuck, there was only one way to find out.

Unwilling to wait any longer for the elevator, he raced up the steps to the third floor.

When she recognized him the receptionist smiled with sympathetic eyes.

"Mr. Kinney, the doctor has been waiting for you. Please go in."

"Thanks."

He entered the office and was a little surprised at the decor. He had expected something more outlandish. Instead, it was tastefully understated. The color scheme was dominated by shades of green and blue. Brian had read once that those particular colors are suppose to engender calm, nurturing feelings.

The doctor stood up and walked around the desk to greet him. Brian accepted his outstretched hand.

"Mr. Kinney, thank you for coming."

"You can dispense with the formalities and get to the point, doc."

"You're not a man who minces words," the psychiatrist stated with a hint of admiration.

The doctor returned to sit behind his desk and scratched his beard as if he were thinking of how to phrase what he needed to say next.

"Mr. Kinney, I'm not entirely pleased with the way Justin's therapy is progressing. It's not that he isn't saying or doing all the right things. It's what he isn't saying that has me concerned."

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