The next morning Justin determinedly split his time between staring at the apartment, and futilely trying to use his left hand to sketch an image of the three people – the two murderers and the hustler. Though he was ambidextrous, his right hand had always been the one he used to draw, so the images were coming out a little off-balance and jerky.  Still, he figured they were pretty good, and definitely recognizable images.

It was a long process as every few seconds he’d raise his gaze to see if he could find any movement in the other apartment, but it had been empty all day. And that was the most frightening bit.  It seemed that at some point in the night the two men had gone back in and taken all of their things.  It made Justin certain that he had in fact witnessed a murder last night and he wasn’t crazy.

He would still have to convince Brian and the police of that, though.

Justin scowled as he turned down to the page once more, trying to add some shading under the hustler’s chin to show the cleft that he had, but his untrained hand pushed too hard and it came out more as a solid line. He tried to use his pinky to shade it out, but had to resort to erasing it and trying again.

He heard movement coming from the bedroom, but he didn’t turn from his task. Even when he heard Brian very slowly and tentatively move closer to him.  He seemed to be hyper-aware of the man, but nothing could distract him from his task.  If no one was going to help him, he’d help himself.

“Have you been up for long?” Brian asked him, coming to sit on the couch.  Justin lifted the pencil so the slight jostling didn’t disrupt the drawing; he’d put too much work into it to mess up again.  He didn’t answer him, as he was too focused and slightly angry at him. 

Brian had acted like he believed him, but then the second someone else came around Brian turned on him in an instant. But that was fine.  If Brian didn’t believe him he’d just have to figure out a way to solve this on his own…without leaving the loft, and without talking to anyone.  He was sure he’d figure it out – he had scored a 1500 on his SATs after all, he was smart enough to do this.

“What so you’re ignoring me now?” Brian asked, moving closer and Justin tightened his frown and bent his head closer to the page.  “Justin…”

He felt Brian’s hand on his knee and he sighed. Apparently he wasn’t going to be left alone despite how clearly he was sending his message.  Silently, he looked up and locked eyes with Brian, letting his disappointment shine.  “I know what I saw.”  Justin stated clearly before turning back down to his sketchbook and continuing his work.

“I believe that you think you saw it-.”

“Why’d you call the police if you didn’t believe me? You did, until they came.  Then all of a sudden I’m just the crazy kid who makes things up in his head.”  Justin muttered angrily, then silently cursed as his anger made him mark up the page.  He went about erasing it, hoping it wasn’t too obvious.  “They moved out last night.”  He added smugly.

“What?”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Brian sit up straighter and look at him.

“They moved out. Took all their things and just disappeared.  Seems pretty strange if you ask me.”  Justin muttered, trying to hide a smirk, but he knew he didn’t succeed.  He stopped sketching when Brian turned around on the couch and grabbed the binoculars that were sitting on the windowsill.  He watched him peer through the window and then leaned back when he obviously saw that Justin was telling the truth.

“That is strange.” He agreed slowly and sat back against the couch the right way.

Justin decided that maybe he’d been a bit harsh on Brian – the man had dropped everything for him, after all. He set the sketch book aside and inched closer.  “I’m not crazy, Brian.”  He stated very clearly.  Brian looked at him for a long time and then nodded.

“I didn’t say you were.” He said and then reached for the sketchbook himself.  He flipped it open to the images of the three men and his finger hovered over their faces.  Justin then watched as Brian stood suddenly and moved over to the desk where he made a few copies of the sketches.  Justin frowned slightly because he wasn’t done with them, but he said nothing.  They were probably as good as they were going to get anyways.  He had to remind himself that he wasn’t going to be up to his regular standards and he should just take what he could get.

“What are you going to do?” He asked as Brian took the copies and walked back to give him back his book.

“If we want the cops to believe there was a murder, we have to first find a body. We need to figure out who that hustler was and if he’s still missing.”  Brian walked to the bedroom and started to change. Justin watched him and then suddenly stood.

“Hey. So you believe me again?” He asked and watched Brian sigh and slump his shoulders in the bedroom.

“Justin…” Brian spoke in that tone that he used to use before. That tone that said he was on thin ice and he didn’t want to continue the conversation. But that was before, and this was now. He’d just watched someone die and he didn’t care if Brian didn’t want to talk about it.

“Tell me.” He demanded, walking up to the bedroom himself. He walked in front of Brian and tried to reach into whatever was left of the ‘Old Justin’. He stood straight with his hands on his hips. Though his right was curled up in a painful ball, he still thought he looked somewhat imposing. “Do you think I’m crazy or not?”

“No. I don’t. I think you’re right, okay?” Brian said and then brushed by him to the closet where he began to change.

Justin nodded once, vindicated, and then sat down on the edge of the bed as he watched.   “What are you going to do?”

“Hit a few spots where hustlers tend to gather. Show them the picture and see if any of them know the guy.” He said as he slid on a pair of jeans. Justin nodded a few times, wishing he could help, but not knowing how. He supposed he did draw the picture, and that had to count for something, but part of him itched to go out with Brian.

And then he nearly gasped because that was the first time since the attack that he had any desire to leave the loft and go outside. He couldn’t – he knew that – but he still felt it was significant that part of him wanted to.

Brian was walking by and seemed to notice the look on his face. Without even asking he approached him and put his hands on his shoulders. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.” He assured and pressed a kiss on the bridge of Justin’s nose.

“Okay…” Justin answered and then watched as Brian collected the rest of his things and left.

Several hours later and Brian was beginning to feel discouraged.  He’d gone to almost every spot where he knew hustlers gathered but none of them had recognized any of the people in Justin’s drawing.  He knew Pittsburgh was a big city, but the gay community, especially the hustler community, was much smaller.

He almost wanted to tear up the paper he carried around with him out of frustration.  Someone had to recognize him in the entire city, he wasn’t no one.  If only he could get a name and someone to verify that he was in fact missing.  Then, he might not be able to convince the police of a murder, but he could at least start a missing person case and that was better than nothing.

He was driving back to the loft and wondering how to give Justin the bad news when a thought struck him.  He could stop by the other building and speak with Harold and the Cleavers.  They had to know something.  Sure, the two men had been there for only a short time, but they had to have seen something and maybe even gotten their names.

So, he pulled into his spot, jogged across the street and up the stairs.  He had been looking across the street so often that he didn’t need to know their apartment numbers to know who lived where.  He simply counted their position from the outside of the building and stopped when he came to the Cleavers.

He glanced down at the sketch once more and then at the door.  He could hear arguing inside and shook his head.  It reminded him of his parents and why marriage was a complete crock of shit.  He knocked loudly to be heard and the shouting immediately stopped.  He rolled his eyes and waited a few seconds for the door to swing open.  Ward had opened it, but Brian could hear June in the background crying softly.  He didn’t have much sympathy for her; she was having her own affair and whatever pain she was going through she probably deserved.

“What do you want?”  Ward asked abruptly and Brian got straight to the point by holding up the copy of the sketch.

“I’m looking for this kid.  He was last seen with these two men who live next door to you.  Do you know anything that might help?”  He asked and the man scrunched up his once-broken nose in disgust.

“You mean those two fags?  Disgusting…”  He muttered and went to shut the door on Brian.  However, Brian was not so easily gotten rid of – he’d learned from Justin how to be a persistent little shit.  He stuck his foot in the door and pressed the paper near the man’s face.

“Please.  We think he’s been killed.  Can you at least tell me their names?”  He asked and Ward shook his head

“Good riddance.”  He spitefully ground through his teeth before shoving Brian out the door and slamming it shut.

Brian glared a bit and shook his head.  “Well I’m glad your wife is fucking someone else!”  He said, loudly enough to be heard through the door.  He shook his head and turned to walk two doors down to Harold’s apartment. He paused outside the middle door, wondering what had gone in there last night.

It seemed like such a whirlwind to think about. So much had happened in so short a time. Part of him still doubted that what Justin saw really happened. But a much larger part did believe him. Why else would those two men pick up and move everything in the middle of the night?

More importantly, despite Alex’s warning, he couldn’t accept that Justin had been permanently harmed and needed constant supervision. He had to believe that one day the boy would be better and their lives would go back to normal.  He missed the old Justin – as annoying as he was, he had really grown on him.

He walked on and arrived at Harold’s door. He gave three strong knocks and waited. There was no screaming behind this door, but he’d seen Harold enough times to know that June was the only other person he saw. He didn’t know who he felt worse for, Harold or the Cleavers.

Harold opened the door and looked at Brian with confusion. “Can I help you?” He asked, far kinder than Ward had been.

“I’m looking for someone. He was last seen with the two people who lived next door.” Brian explained as he held up the sketch.

Harold took it and looked down at the drawing. “I saw him once, but I don’t know his name.” He said honestly and Brian frowned, even if that had been the answer he had suspected.

“Is there anything you can remember? Did you hear him say anything?” Brian asked, but Harold shook his head.

“No. Sorry. I was leaving as they got in one night. That was all I saw.” He answered and offered the piece of paper back to Brian. “Sorry.” He added before he turned into his apartment again.

Brian slumped a little as the door shut quietly. He turned and slowly walked back to the loft wondering what he could do or say now. They had nothing. No leads, no body, not even a name. How could no one know who that hustler was? He had to be someone.

He rode up the elevator to the loft and slid open the door to see Justin at the window, eyes trained across the street. “How did it go?” He asked and Brian shut and locked the door. He set the paper down on the counter and walked over to Justin.

“Not good. No one knows this guy. If the hustlers did know him, they weren’t talking.” He added as he collapsed onto the cushion next to Justin. He leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling with a frown. “This doesn’t bode well, Sunshine. If we can’t even get someone to give us a name the cops won’t do a goddamn thing.” He said as he turned his head slightly to look at Justin.

Justin shifted so he was kneeling towards him and put his hand on his shoulder. “I know it happened, Brian.”

He knew it was important that Justin continued to insist he was sane and what he had witnessed had actually happened. Justin, like Alex had theorized, needed his approval. The boy hadn’t cared if Alex or the cops thought he was crazy beyond the fact that the murder would go overlooked. But with him, Justin needed him to know.

He looked into Justin’s clear blue eyes, struck by their stark beauty and clarity.

“I believe you.” He answered, raising a hand to cup Justin’s face. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

If Justin needed his approval, he had it. He let the boy down once, and he’d die before he let it happen again.

Hunter had seen that sleek, black SUV again today, but there had been no sign of Jason anywhere. He had never come back to the warehouse last night and that had never happened in the near month that Jason had been living there.  Even when the guy had been beaten black and blue he managed to make it home.  So, Hunter feared the worst.

He didn’t even want to think about what could have happened to him, but he wasn’t going to take his chances. He was getting the hell out of there.

It had taken him all of five minutes to pack up his meager belongings. They all fit in a single backpack, with a few bundles of cash strategically hidden in different parts of his body.  It had only taken one mugging for him to learn not to keep it all in the same place.  He didn’t say goodbye to anyone, though had Jason been there he probably would have tried to convince him to come along.  The others, though, were just as selfish as he was and he didn’t owe them a thing.  He had himself to look after.

So, around the middle of the day when he should have been out looking for Johns, he was strolling the streets out of the industrial area. First he moved closer to Liberty Ave.  That was a prime location and one he’d always been a bit jealous of.  But the hustlers that already worked in that area were fiercely protective of their spot – understandably so.  Hunter barely got on the street before receiving threatening looks from the others.  He decided to keep moving before they tried to force him to leave.

He stopped for a quick lunch at a small diner he’d been to a few times before. The waitress was boisterous and loud, but she was pretty cool, he had to admit.  Seeming to sense that he was hungry, she gave him an extra order of fries for free and offered him kind smile the entire time he was there.  She seemed like she’d be a good mom, but he wouldn’t have any idea what that was like himself.  When he was done eating he carried on out of the area.

He tried most of the other commonly frequented spots in Pittsburgh, but no one would welcome him in. Hunter was beginning to get frustrated.  At least in the industrial district newcomers were welcome, but he’d forgotten how everyone else in the city seemed to claim ownership over every strip of sidewalk.  He was started to wonder if he just might be better off by going back and keeping an open eye for those two men.

Then he started getting closer to the multiple colleges in the city and the hustlers seemed to disappear. It wasn’t a desirable area because most everyone there were poor, horny, students who didn’t need to pay anyone for sex.  But Hunter would rather take his chances here than go back and disappear like Jason.