Lakevallée’s clinic, Friday, July 24th, 12:10 a.m.

“So... Mr. Taylor,” The doctor on duty - a young redhead whose tag says Dr. Hartmann - looks up after perusing the file one last time.

Justin is lying on the bed in a hospital gown, with Brian standing next to him, waiting for the diagnosis. They already know Justin didn’t suffer any serious injuries in the car accident but have been waiting for confirmation from the doctor.

Dr. Hartmann places the file back into the slot at the foot of the mattress. “We will keep you under observation for the night; if your vitals are still okay in the morning, you will be free to go.”

“I feel fine,” Justin stubbornly argues, annoyed with the whole situation. He doesn’t dare dismiss the doctor’s recommendation, though, sensing that Brian would have a fit if he did. The brunet has been on edge ever since he joined him at scene of the accident.

“Is it safe?” Brian ignores Justin’s statement. “He hit his head and blacked out. Are you sure he doesn’t have an undetectable head trauma or something?”

Dr Hartmann shakes his head. “The scan didn’t show anything. There are no internal injuries, no broken bones, although the hematomas around his ribs will take a few days to ease.” Directing his gaze at Justin, he adds, “Considering your previous brain injury and your current concussion, you may suffer from headaches in the next few days, but they shouldn’t last. I will prescribe medication, just in case.”

Brian is about to protest, but Justin cuts him off, grabbing his hand to capture his attention, “Don’t. I’m fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Brian counters, giving Justin a sharp look.

“In fact, he is fine,” Dr. Hartmann interjects, a hint of irritation tinging his voice.

Brian glares at the doctor but keeps his mouth shut when Justin tugs on his hand to prevent him from voicing his disapproval.

“You can come back tomorrow morning, Mr…” Dr. Hartmann’s voice trails off.

“Byron,” Brian provides, narrowing his eyes at the doc. “And that’s out of the question.”

“You’re not supposed to stay the night. We have a team who will take good care of Mr. Taylor.” Dr Hartmann objects when, from the tone of Brian’s voice alone, he understands the brunet has no intention of leaving his patient’s side.

“I don’t care if your medical team is the best in the whole country.” Brian steps closer to the man, enunciating, “I am not leaving.”

“Maybe you should…” Justin interjects, but he stops when he sees the murderous glare Brian throws at him.

Returning his attention to the doctor, Brian declares, gesturing to the nearby chair, “I’m not asking for anything. You won’t even notice that I’m here.”

The doctor chuckles dryly at Brian’s announcement, claiming, “Somehow, I doubt that.” He stares at the brunet for a few more seconds before relenting, “I will ask the nurse to bring you an extra pillow and a blanket.”

Brian raises his eyebrow, watching as the man heads to the door. “Thanks,” he eventually says, the young redhead ignoring him and exiting the room.

“You really should go home and sleep,” Justin declares as soon as they’re alone.

“Watch me,” Brian snaps, sitting on the edge on the bed. “What the fuck don’t you understand when I say I’m not going anywhere?”

Justin sighs, straightening up to look at the brunet, while Brian tentatively touches his forehead, tracing the bump with his finger. “You barely slept last night, and you heard the doctor. I’m okay.”

Brian eyes the injury as he climbs onto the bed. “Move,” he demands, disregarding the blond’s statement.

Justin frowns but does as he’s asked. He nonetheless insists, “You look like a train ran over you. You need to rest, not babysit me.”

Brian ignores his warning and settles in next to him. Lying on his side, he places his head on Justin’s shoulder and his arm across his stomach. He covers Justin’s hand and slowly interlaces their fingers, moving his thumb over the skin. “See? I’m resting.” he eventually offers, his breath tickling the side of Justin’s neck when he glances at the blond.

Justin’s lips curl upward. “You’d be more comfortable in a real bed.”

“I’m in a real bed,” Brian contradicts, pressing himself against Justin’s body. “And I can’t leave. I...” He pauses, placing a small, heartfelt kiss on the side of the blond’s neck, before resting his head in the crook of his neck without finishing his thought.

Justin responds by squeezing Brian’s hand harder, giving up the fight as he realizes that his companion needs him more than he lets on. He therefore tilts his head and begins to softly slide his fingers through his hair in a reassuring manner.

Soon, Brian’s breathing evens out. When the nurse comes with an extra pillow and a blanket a few minutes later, Justin asks her to place the cover on Brian, fearing to wake his lover up if he moves.

“Dr. Hartmann complained that he wouldn’t leave your side.” the nurse informs Justin quietly as she agrees to the blond’s request. Indicating Brian with a small nod, she whispers, “He cares about you a great deal, doesn’t he?”

Justin gazes down at the brunet, a sudden surge of love overwhelming him. He murmurs, “You have no idea.” his eyes lingering on the mop of dark hair long after the nurse leaves the room.

***

Friday morning, 7:50 a.m.

Gabriel opens his eyes, trying for a few seconds to remember where he is and what he did before falling asleep. As his evening with Connor resurfaces, he smiles and reaches out to the spot next to him, frowning when he feels the cold sheets under his fingers. Straightening up on his elbows, he listens for any sound coming from the apartment but hears nothing.

He stands up, snatching a pair of jeans from the floor. “Connor?” he tentatively calls as he walks into the living room, sliding a wife-beater on. “Shit,” he curses when he realizes his lover is nowhere to be seen.

Grabbing his cell phone, he dials Connor’s number, ending up with voicemail. He does it again, not caring that the man could still be asleep. He doesn’t understand why Connor would have left without bothering to wake him up or leave a note.

“Answer your fucking phone,” he grouses as he reaches Connor’s voicemail for the third time, before disconnecting the phone. Frustrated, he heads to the bathroom and turns on the shower, hoping the hot water will help him cool off.

Twenty-five minutes later, he’s dressed. He doesn’t bother with breakfast, since he’s too pissed off to eat anything. He nonetheless drinks some grapefruit juice directly from the carton, before placing it back in his fridge and striding out of the apartment.

He gets into the pickup and throws his briefcase on the passenger seat. He shouldn’t confront Connor now, but he will go crazy if he doesn’t get rid of this negative emotion. So, refusing to think about it any further, he drives to Connor’s house, noticing the Mustang as soon as he arrives. He doesn't know how it makes him feel exactly, kind of mad or afraid. Probably both.

Hastily sliding out of the car, he walks to the front door and knocks, loudly. “Connor!” he shouts when no one answers, hammering on the door some more. “I know you’re in there! Connor!”

He keeps banging on the door. He’s considering hitting it with his foot when it finally opens. “Fucking hold your horses!” Connor snarls, looking fairly pissed. In fact, he looks like hell. His curly hair is in disarray; he’s pale, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, and has obviously barely rested, if he’s slept at all.

Gabriel shakes his head, gazing up and down. “What happened to you?”

“I was trying to sleep, but a nutcase kept attempting to force their way into my house,” Connor intones curtly before looking at Gabriel contemptuously. “What do you want?”

“What do I…” Gabriel echoes, astonished by Connor’s tone. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses.

Connor merely raises his eyebrows at him in response, his hand resting on the doorframe.

“We had sex,” Gabriel reminds him sardonically.

“I was there,” Connor deadpans, feigning to be bored with the whole conversation.

At first, his cold demeanor feels like a slap to Gabriel’s face, but the gallery owner forces himself to breathe, refusing to take the bait. He doesn’t know why Connor is pretending that what happened between them is unimportant, but he sure as hell isn’t going to fall for it.

“You can pretend all you want that you don’t care, but I know it’s not true.” Gabriel states, forcing the door open.

Connor dryly chuckles, preventing Gabriel from entering his home. “You can believe whatever you want.”

Gabriel ignores Connor’s declaration as he notices the disarray in his living room. “What the…”

“Gabriel,” Connor interrupts him, ready to close the door in his face. “I’m not sure what you expect, but I can tell you what I expect. And that would start with you ceasing to harass me.”

Gabriel immediately refocuses his gaze on Connor. “Oh, no you don’t.” he grouses, forcing Connor to step back. Once inside, he slams the door shut with his foot and pushes Connor backward, warning in a deadly voice. “I know you’ve always been an annoying dickhead whose purpose in life was to piss everyone off, but you’re not using that trick with me.”

“Or what?” Connor retorts childishly, straightening himself up to confront his lover, their faces only a few inches apart.

However, Gabriel notices for the first time that the man is on the edge of crying. His previous anger vanishing, Gabriel’s eyes soften as he replies, “You need to tell me why you’re trying so hard to keep me out of your life.”

“What?” Connor’s eyes widen at Gabriel’s demand.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” Gabriel questions, raising his hand to touch the brunet’s bruised skin. “Ever since I came back to Lakevallée, you’ve been avoiding me. At first I thought it was because you were angry with me, but that’s not the reason, is it?”

“Don’t,” Connor escapes Gabriel’s touch. “And stop seeing conspiracies when there are none. We’re not meant to be. We never were. Sure, I’ve always wanted to fuck you, and last night was great, but it wasn’t meant to be more than what it was.”

“A fuck?” Gabriel surmises dubiously. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care.” Connor retorts.

Gabriel sighs, understanding this conversation is going nowhere. If Connor doesn’t want to open up to him, he isn’t sure what he can do. Staring at the living room, Gabriel decides to stop fighting for now and inquires instead on a hunch, “Why did you trash your living room?”

Connor, looking exactly like the ostracized kid he once was, briefly glances away, before staring at the blond.

Gabriel holds his gaze for long seconds, wanting nothing more than to take the brunet in his arms and tell him that everything is going to be okay. But he can’t do that, not when he doesn’t have the slightest clue as to what is happening in the painter’s life. He knows several things, though: Connor is miserable right now; someone has hit him; and he’s pushing Gabriel away. Why? Gabriel doesn’t doubt that Connor truly loves him; thus, for what reason would he shut him out if not to protect him? But, from what?

Connor refuses to meet his gaze, and Gabriel feels an irresistible urge to touch him. So, he leans in, not allowing Connor any time to protest before taking him in his arms. When he feels Connor stop resisting and hug him back hard enough to hurt, he covers his lips.

As the blond leans back a moment later, he utters, “I’m not giving up on you.” before taking a step back and opening the door.

He walks out with one last glance at the brunet, and heads back to his car.

***

Liam’s chalet, a few hours later…

“Careful,” Brian warns as he helps Justin into his bed, immediately fluffing the pillow to help him get comfortable.

“Seriously, I’m okay. You don’t need to mother hen me like you do.”

“I don’t mother hen you.” Brian refutes, before adding sardonically, “And excuse me for caring about your well-being.”

“You’re worse than my mother,” Justin scolds him.

Brian shakes his head. It’s true he’s been hovering over Justin ever since he woke up this morning, helping him with the doctor and his release, taking care of the damaged rental, bringing Justin back to the chalet, cooking a decent meal, and basically acting like a real knight in shining armor. But he’s been so shaken by Justin’s accident that he can’t restrain himself. “And you should really learn to say thank you and stop complaining like a fifteen-year-old,” Brian retorts as he sits on the bed, covering the blond with a clean sheet.

“Brian…” Justin ignores his snarky comment and calls his name, making Brian’s heart skip a beat. It’s been such a long time since anyone has called him by that name. He isn’t sure how it makes him feel. “You need to stop worrying about me. I’m okay. It was a stupid accident.”

“It could have been a lot worse,” Brian contradicts, his voice turning somewhat rough. “You could have been seriously hurt and I...” he tries to explain but can’t think of a coherent thing to say. At the moment, he has trouble even looking at Justin for some reason.

Ever since Justin discovered who Liam is, Brian hasn’t known how to act anymore. He isn’t sure where he stands with his former lover. He should do all he can to ensure Justin will leave and move on with his life as soon as possible, but the mere thought of that happening is tearing him apart, even more so since the accident occurred. And yet, if he feels this way when Justin has been lucky enough not to suffer any serious injuries, he can’t imagine how he would feel if anything happened to the blond because of him.

That’s why Justin needs to leave Lakevallée and never come back. But how the fuck is he going to survive that?

“Look at me,” Justin suddenly demands, jolting Brian from his musings, the brunet frowning as he hears the blond’s tone. “It was an accident. A random accident, which has nothing to do with the psycho who’s after you. You’re not responsible for this, do you understand me?”

Brian nods, amazed at Justin’s perceptiveness. “I know.”

“Do you?” Justin skeptically asks, narrowing his eyes at the brunet.

“I do. It’s just… I’m not sure how to deal with… everything, really.” Brian admits, peering at Justin. “You weren’t ever supposed to come to Lakevallée, much less recognize me, and yet, here we are. With you, hurt in my bed.”

Justin snorts. “I’ve always managed to end up in your bed.”

Brian chuckles dryly. “That you have.”

“Listen, can we… can we just rest and… forget about that stupid accident?” Justin asks. Sensing Brian’s reluctance, he urges, “For one night… Please…”

“Okay,” Brian agrees, intending to get up from the bed to go sleep on the couch, but Justin prevents him from moving by grabbing his forearm. Brian peers down at his hand before looking up at Justin. “What?”

“Could you stay with me tonight?” Justin inquires almost bashfully. “Could you… hold me?”

Brian feels his heart beating faster as he notices the blond’s pleading eyes. He should probably refuse, but he doesn’t want to. “Sure,” he breathes out, taking off his glasses after a slight hesitation and putting them on the nightstand. Getting up, he comes back a few seconds later with the necessary items for his contact lenses. Glancing at Justin, he carefully removes and places them in the receptacle, blinking a few times. When he looks up, Justin leans closer to touch his face and stares into hazel eyes.

Justin swallows, and they stay silent for a moment. Brian eventually closes his eyes and places a chaste, but heartfelt kiss on Justin’s lips. He undresses, keeping his underwear and shirt on, before moving to lie down behind Justin. He spoons him, encircling his waist and burying his face in the crook of his neck, while Justin immediately grabs his hand.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Brian utters, his breath tickling Justin’s skin as the blond squeezes their joined hands to his chest.

The brunet feels Justin slightly shiver in his arms.

***

A couple of hours later…

Justin is jolted awake by an awful scream, one that instantly chills his bones. At first, he doesn’t understand what’s going on, but as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he realizes Brian is thrashing around next to him.

“Brian… Brian!” he yells, trying to awaken him, pinning his hands to the bed and ignoring the throbbing in his ribs at the sudden move. Brian fights him, not leaving Justin any choice but to shout louder, “Wake up! It’s just a dream! You have to wake up!” When that doesn’t work, he grips his shoulders and starts to shake him.

Brian suddenly pushes him away, bolting upright. Justin barely prevents himself from falling off the bed, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs as he scoots closer. But Brian jumps when he tentatively touches his arm.

“Brian, it’s me,” Justin reassures him, bending over to turn on the light. When he sees Brian’s face, he almost shrinks away.

Brian averts his gaze and stands up, heading for the bathroom. Justin hears him turn on the faucet. Hesitating, he gets up and walks after him, stopping in the doorway to the bathroom. Brian is gazing down at the water running into the sink, his hands braced on its edges.

Justin approaches and turns off the tap, still staring at Brian, who finally peers up at him. His face is expressionless, and yet, he looks terrible.

“What happened?” Justin can’t help but ask. This is a side of Brian he’s never seen before.

“Nothing,” Brian dismisses his question, striding out of the bathroom and leaving Justin standing there, dumbfounded.

Frowning, Justin watches him head toward the living room and decides to follow him. When he reaches the kitchen Brian is standing by the counter, pouring himself a glass of Beam.

“You still love Beam,” Justin comments, not sure what to do or say.

“One of the few things they didn’t take away from me.” Brian replies sarcastically, gulping his drink in one go.

Justin hates seeing Brian like this. He has a feeling this isn’t the first time the brunet has had to deal with nightmares, and he hates knowing he usually goes through this alone.

He ponders his options briefly, before deciding that he can’t ignore what has just happened and declaring bluntly, “You screamed.”

Brian stills with the bottle of Beam in his hands, before serving himself another glass and ignoring Justin’s statement.

“It was the scream of a terrified man, Brian,” Justin pushes, walking closer to the brunet and hoping he will open up to him. “Talk to me.”

Brian glances at him as he drinks his Beam, before setting it down on the counter. “It was a nightmare. Nothing more.” He tries to avoid the topic.

“It was more than that,” Justin contradicts, touching Brian’s arm, hoping that he will hear him out. “For how long have you suffered nightmares like this?”

Brian smiles at Justin’s question, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Shrugging, he answers, “A few months…”

“Don’t you mean a few years?” Justin counters, sitting on a stool and indicating the one next to him to Brian.

“Does it matter?” Brian argues, but takes a seat nonetheless.

“Yes, it does. It does.” Justin insists, bringing his stool closer to Brian’s. “What was it about?”

“Huh?” Brian frowns.

“The nightmare.” Justin clarifies. “Why did you scream?”

“Justin…” Brian stalls, hesitant about opening up.

“Brian, please. I’m worried about you.” Justin implores.

“You shouldn’t be.” Brian objects, but he doesn’t stand up either, which he would have already done if he hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

Emboldened, Justin responds, hoping to break through the last bit of resistance emanating from the brunet. “But I am.”

Brian stares at him, probably questioning the wisdom of sharing one of the most intimate parts of his life.

“Just spit it out,” Justin demands. “I can take it. And you need to talk. You’re lucky, I’m a good listener.”

“I know,” Brian offers, his lips curling slightly upward.

“So what are you waiting for?” Justin pushes with a small smile.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Brian resists.

“And you didn't ask for those nightmares. You didn’t ask for any of this,” Justin intones, gesturing around the chalet. “I know you can’t confide in anyone in Lakevallée, but the nightmares obviously shake you and I’m right here. You don’t need to deal with everything on your own, and no one will get hurt if you accept my help. So, let me help you, please…” Justin is literally begging now, but he doesn't care as long as it works.

And it does. Justin can see how hard it is for Brian to let go, and yet, at last, the brunet discloses, “I’m in my bedroom in the chalet. I can’t sleep. And I start hearing voices from my past…”

Justin raises his eyebrows, curious who Brian is referring to.

Brian clears his throat, divulging, “Michael, Ted, and Emmett.”

“You hear them in your dreams?” Justin interrogates quizzically.

“In this one, yes.” Brian confirms without thinking.

“You mean, you have recurrent nightmares,” Justin surmises, mostly talking to himself and not realizing he has shared his conclusion out loud until he sees Brian’s troubled gaze.

The brunet ignores him and continues describing his dream, “I don’t know why, but I somehow wake up in my old loft, and I still hear them in the living room, laughing and joking about me and debating about my death. Ted says something about me dying in the middle of an orgy; Emmett talks about my car going over a cliff; then Michael suddenly starts crying and he bawls, literally.”

The brunet pauses and takes a deep breath. He eventually resumes, “And I’m there, in the next room, and I want to tell them that I’m alive, but  anytime I try to get up, someone - or something - keeps me from moving or saying anything. I don’t know how, but I realize they’re going to... die if they don’t hear me. So I try to break free again and again, but I just can’t. I don’t know how long I stay like that, before I hear gunshots. In the end, all that remains is the quiet, but…”

“But what? Tell me,” Justin gently encourages when he understands they are about to discuss the hardest part of the dream.

“I can move again.” Brian breathes out. “The next thing I know, I’m standing in the loft’s living room.”

“And what do you see?”

“I see Emmett,” Brian reveals. “He is standing, facing me in the middle of dozens of bloodless bodies I don’t recognize, except for Theodore…” The brunet has to stop at that point. “Fuck, I hate those dreams.”

“Why did you scream?” Justin inquires, understanding that Brian hasn’t finished.

“I must zone out, because the bodies disappear. That’s when the blood appears. It covers the entire floor, even the walls. I’m bleeding of course, I’ve been shot too, although I don’t remember when. But Emmett stares at me and he says, ‘He’s not here, Brian,’ before turning away from me and walking away, although it looks like he’s floating.” Brian discloses. “That’s when I see the... hole in the back of his head. That’s when I understand the floor is covered in our blood.”

“Jesus Christ…” Justin curses, horrified by his companion’s dream.

“You wanted to know,” Brian half mocks, although Justin can sense his turmoil.

“You already had this dream,” Justin half questions, half states, needing Brian to confirm his assumption.

“Yeah.” Brian nods, albeit reluctantly. “Although it’s been a while since I dreamed about Emmett.”

“Have you ever talked to anyone about those nightmares?” Justin asks, assuming that this isn’t the only nightmare Brian has had to deal with.

Brian chuckles wryly. “You know I haven’t.”

“So, you just… deal with them on your own?” Justin deduces.

“Well, I could use a shrink to deal with the fact that I suffered from a severe trauma after having escaped death with a damaged brain,” Brian retorts cynically. “Too bad I can’t talk to anyone about what happened to me.”

“I’m here… You can talk to me,” Justin contradicts, his heart constricting in his chest.

Brian shakes his head. “I’m not stupid, Justin. I know why I’m having those dreams. I may not understand exactly what they mean, but I don’t need to be a genius to conclude I have PTSD.”

“And I say it again, you can talk to me. I will listen and I promise to put my personal feelings aside.” Justin proposes, desperate to help. “Just think about it, okay?”

“You’re already here,” Brian offers gently. “It’s more than I’ve had in years.”

Justin nods, a small smile playing on his lips. He stands up and reaches for Brian’s legs, pushing them apart so that he can stand between them. He places his hands on Brian’s shoulders and cups his neck, pulling Brian’s forehead against his. “And I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, convinced that Brian needs to hear he’s not alone, even though Justin knows the brunet will probably try to push him away later.

But for now, they have each other, and while that might not solve anything, Justin wouldn't be anywhere else.