February 4 (Part One)

Justin leaned back and closed his eyes, a tight little smile on his face as Emmett excused himself to go use the restroom. He felt bad for his friend. Emmett had been trying so hard to distract him from the night before, but all Justin could see in his mind were the shreds of his painting lying on the floor like the spilled entrails of a slaughtered animal.

It's what it felt like too.

Like he'd been gutted. Like someone had taken a knife to his heart and belly instead of the painting that had come to symbolize his hope and love for Brian. God, he still couldn't believe that someone had done that; and why? Why would someone destroy his work like that? He just couldn't wrap his mind around the level of rage and violence needed to destroy…to crush…

Justin took a deep breath and shook his head; while he was certainly upset about the rest of the damage to the loft, it was the loss of his art that shattered him. Each piece was a part of his heart, a part of his soul that he freely gave away because he wanted to share the way he viewed the world. It was deeply personal, and that someone hated the two of them enough to completely eradicate a part of that; it…he just couldn't fathom that level of malice; that level of enmity.

Breathing harshly through his nose, Justin tried to block out the visual of his work laid out in ribbons and pieces on the hardwood floor. He didn't need to spark another panic attack. He'd already been close to that edge since last night and had been desperately been trying to crawl back from that ledge as he knew that this level of stress couldn't be good for him or for Sunbeam.

That is, of course, why that annoying, whining little weasel's voice decided to cut through his mental exercises now; fucking Murphy's Law.

"There you are you stupid, little shit," Michael hissed; and Justin could tell from the tone of his voice that he was gearing up for another epic temper tantrum; fuck, where was Daphne when he needed her; he so did not have the patience for this shit today. "I knew you were going to be nothing but trouble when you came into our lives. But, of course, you have Brian brainwashed and completely under your spell; and he never listens to me anymore."

Gee, I wonder why, Mikey? Could it be you're an annoying little shit, who seems to be stuck in a time loop; where we just keep coming back to this idea that I'm the villain in some cheesy comic book script that you've written for your life?

Did he mention that he had no patience for this shit today?

"Hello, Michael," Justin sighed, opening his eyes to focus on the thorn in his side. "How lovely it is to see you again; how are you today? Me? Oh, I'm doing as well as can be expected given that I seem to be carrying the world's next, great soccer player or gold cast professional dancer."

"Don't get smart with me, you little shit," Michael spat; and it took everything in Justin not to roll his eyes and, inadvertently, make things worse. "Being cute isn't going to distract me from your bullshit splattering all over Brian once again."

And Jesus Christ, Michael was a fucking broken record; he really needed to get new material because this shit was just boring Justin now.

"So, what have I done now?" Justin blithely asked, wondering what transgression he'd committed now in Novotneyville. "Did I single-handedly bring about the national debt? Hold down Lance Armstrong and force him to take steroids and lie to the entire world about it? Instigate global warming? Did I manage to somehow get one of your favorite comic book superheroes killed off again? Not to worry on the last one. You do know that in about a month or so, that Marvel will find a way to resurrect them, right? Superheroes never stay dead. Well, outside of Captain Astro, but he was peanuts in the greater comic book universe anyways."

Yeah, take that asshole; now go the fuck away and let me eat my lunch in peace.

"Unbelievable," Michael spat, shaking his head in disgust; Justin just looked at him blandly since he still had no fucking idea what brought this week's tirade on. "You don't even care, do you?"

"Well, since I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," Justin said in an even tone, mentally counting down from one hundred so he didn't smear the insect across the floor. "As usual; it's hard to find any remorse for my so-called actions."

"I'm talking about the fact that once again Brian is in danger because of you," Michael sneered, shoving Justin's shoulder. And, oh, he was just asking for that beat down now.

"What?" Justin asked irritably, getting sick of the circles Michael was speaking in. Just fucking tell him the problem, so he could get on with his life; preferably within the next eon too. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh, what, now you care?" Michael asked, trying to ape Brian's sarcastic wit and failing miserably. Seriously, don't even try to engage in a battle of wits when you were outclassed in every way. It just made you look pathetic.

And then Michael said something that had Justin's blood running cold.

"I'm talking about the fact that Brian has some psycho gunning for him and wanting to off him because of you, you shit head," Michael spat, completely ignoring Justin's comment.

Justin literally felt all the color in his face drain; his blood chilled further as his mind started rapidly piecing things together. Things he should have picked up from the beginning, but hadn't because he'd been so heartbroken over the loss of his art.

"What?" he managed to choke out, his body going numb as he played the destruction of the loft, and the hushed, but worried conversation between Carl and Brian, over again in his head; and seeing things far too clearly this time.

"Didn't think I'd hear about it, did you?" Michael sneered, still running off at the mouth and not even paying attention as he ripped into Justin. "Oh, but I heard all of the gritty details; about how someone broke into the loft and destroyed it. About how this asshole destroyed anything of Brian's and cut him out of all of the pictures of the two of you; and how he destroyed any hint of you as a couple, salvaging only your parts, but burning or slashing any hint of Brian out of existence."

"No, that's not…" Justin denied quietly, but then trailed off as his blood began to rush in his head, leaving Michael's voice to grow distance, as more pieces feel into place.

His heart started tripping wildly in his chest, tapping out an erratic tempo as he recalled the feeling of being watched; about how he thought he felt someone touch him at the parade and whisper something softly in his ear. He'd ignored it at the time, but now distinctly remembered a voice saying, 'you look lovely today, my angel.'

"How they defaced anything that even hinted at Brian being in your life," Michael continued without even realizing he'd lost his audience's attention as Justin was too wrapped up in his thoughts.

He clenched his hands into fists, shivering violently and his breath growing short and ragged as he remembered the way every piece of art that included Brian had been destroyed – either shredded, or slashed, or… Didn't he overhear something about ashes and something being burnt? Didn't fire usually symbolize the purging of something from one's life; or in this case, had this asshole tried to purge Brian from his life?

"Carl said that it had to be someone obsessed with you," Michael sneered, in a fine frenzy now that he'd had a somewhat captive audience. "Although, why anyone would want you is beyond me. You're nothing but a noose around Brian's neck; and, frankly, you should have been tossed aside a long time ago."

Justin's breathing grew shallow with every word spat at him and every single sign that came to mind, until his heart felt as if it were trying to pound out of his chest. His vision swam before his eyes and he felt like he couldn't breathe. It felt like his blood was literally throbbing in his head and neck and his chest was being crushed in a vise. He tried to draw in a deep breath, but he couldn't, ramping up his panic another notch.

"He said that they were actively trying to wipe Brian out of your life," Michael sneered, and Justin barely felt Michael's spittle hit his cheek as he rampaged on like a rabid animal. "Which should be the opposite if you asked me; you're nothing but a danger to Brian because this asshole has, for some reason beyond me, decided that eliminating Brian out of your life will get them what they want. That…"

Michael's voice instantly cut off as Em came back to the table; some small part of Justin registered Michael's face paling as he looked around and noted the disgusted looks of the patrons around him. And then he cringed when he noticed Em staring at him with barely repressed rage. But the greater part of Justin's focus was internal, latched onto the one thought that could terrify him more than losing the use of his right hand once more.

"Michael," Em hissed, shoving the other man away from Justin; but Justin could barely even react as his mind was elsewhere. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm was just telling this asshole that once again he is nothing but a menace and Brian would have been better off…" Michael hissed, gearing up once more, before cowering as Emmett's face darkened.

"Better off what, Michael?" Em asked in a deceptively silky tone, his eyes flashing fire at the smaller man. "Being with you?"

"That is not…" Michael protested, realizing he was perilously close to getting his ass kicked by any, and all, present.

"Save it for someone who cares," Em spat, turning back to a shaking and panting Justin. "Justin?" Justin turned slowly towards him, blanching when he saw the worried look on Em's face; shit, he must look worse than he felt. "Baby; are you okay?"

Justin tried to reassure his friend that he was okay, but he couldn't get the words out. All he could see in his mind's eye was Brian, lying broken and bleeding among the glass and the ceramics and the wood and the slashed canvas on the loft floor. Justin sucked in a sharp breath and, unknowingly, made a keening sound in the back of his throat.

"Baby, come on," Em pleaded, reaching out a hand towards Justin; but he couldn't stand the thought of anyone touching him right now. He flinched, curling away from Emmett as the visual of Brian continued to play over and over in a continuous loop in Justin's head. Em growled and spun around. "What the fuck did you say to him, Michael?"

"Oh, this is just so typical," Michael spat, firing up once again and clearly not getting the picture that he was treading on thin ice; something that a small, still observant, part of Justin recognized by Em's tone. It was the same  one he'd developed for tricks who couldn't seem to understand that no meant no. "He freaks out and you blame me; the stupid twink just couldn't face the truth that once again Brian is in danger because of him."

"You said what?" Em asked in a deceptively calm voice; and then he held up his hand before Michael could answer. "You know what? I don't have time for your petty bullshit. You have exactly thirty seconds to get the hell out of here, or you will learn just how I survived all those years in Hazelhurst. And trust me, when they say my aim is deadly accurate; it means just that."

"Sir, is there a problem?" the manager asked, coming up at that moment.

"No," Em said, and then paused, giving Michael the evil eye. "Actually yes; this man was harassing my friend and I'd like him to leave."

"Your friend?" Michael squawked, his mouth agape. "Oh and what am I?"

"Nothing, Michael," Em said, looking at him as if he'd smelled something putrid. "You are nothing to me. Because the person I met, the friend that I thought I once knew, wouldn't have done this. I don't know who the fuck you are anymore. And quite frankly, I don't care to. No leave before I do something I won't regret."

"But Em…" Michael whined, but Em ignored him.

He turned back to Justin and knelt down in front of him; Justin felt as if he was watching him from a distance, his vision blurred and graying a bit around the edges. Frowning, Em grabbed a napkin, wet it with some water from Justin's glass and dabbed at Justin's brow. Justin hissed and flinched; the napkin felt unnaturally cold against his unnaturally hot skin, almost as if he were running a fever. Closing his eyes, Justin shook his head rapidly trying to get away from the soothing touch. He didn't deserve it, not when Brian…

Oh God, Brian; why hadn't he seen what had been right in front of his face? He'd been so worried about his paintings and drawings and this asshole had threatened…oh, God, he couldn't even think it. Shuddering, Justin leaned his head against Em's shoulder.

"Sir, I have to ask you to leave," the tinny voice of the manager came above the roaring in Justin's ears. "I can't have you disrupting my business or harassing my customers."

"But I don't understand what…" Michael started, but was cut off.

"Please leave," the manager said a bit more firmly; and then he sighed and said to…well, Justin had no idea who; but someone there. "A little help here?"

"Wait, wait," Michael spluttered, and then demanding if he weren't the entire reason Justin couldn't feel any of his limbs. "What's wrong with him?"

"You need to leave now, Michael; I don't have time to deal with you bullshit!" Em spat, cautiously wrapping an arm around Justin; but Justin couldn't really feel it. He felt so cold inside, a hard ball of dread solidifying in his stomach as he played the words over in his head again. "Baby? Come on baby, talk to me."

Justin lifted his head and winced as pain lanced through it.

"Em?" Justin whispered, his hands shaking. "I don't feel so good. My heart is racing; I can feel it pounding in chest and neck and ears. And my vision is swimming. My chest hurts and it feels like I can't breathe…"

"Can someone call me an ambulance?" Em called over his shoulder, panic creeping in his voice; and Justin wanted to reassure his friend, and brother in all, but blood, but he wasn't even sure of it himself. "It's okay, Baby; you're going to be fine. Just breathe with me okay. Just like you learned, inhale, two, three; hold, two, three; exhale, two, three; hold, two, three. And again; that's good, Baby."

After that, Justin lost the thread of what was going on; he didn't know how long they sat there trying to force Justin's breathing to even out; but it must have been awhile because the next thing he knew he was being lifted onto a gurney, with voices echoing over him.

"Can you tell us what happened?" an authoritative voice asked.

"Unfortunately I don't know much as I went to the restroom," Em said, his voice frantic. "But when I got back, he was arguing with a friend, and he went suddenly pale and mentioned that he was having chest pains and breathing issues and that his heart was racing. He's pregnant and I didn't want to take any chances."

"His blood pressure is elevated," Another voice came from the fog surrounding Justin. "Are you riding with us?"

"Yes, I'm his brother," Emmett said in a firm tone; and Justin almost smiled at that. "Let me just call his husband and we can be on our way." Emmett pressed a kiss to his brow. "I'll be right back, Baby. I just want to call Brian, so he can be there to meet us there. I know how much you hate this, but we don't want anything to happen to, Sunbeam."

Emmett hurried away and then finally after a period of time that Justin couldn't quite keep the measure of, they were swiftly making their way out the door and he was being put into the ambulance, with Em's voice echoing in his ears before he mercifully blacked out.

"Brian? This is Emmett. I need you to get to West Penn as soon as possible. Um…something has happened to Justin, but I don't know what; the paramedics said something about him having an elevated blood pressure and Justin was complaining of chest pain and being short of breath and they are currently loading him into…Brian? Brian? Fuck me. I so don't want to be in Michael's shoes right now."