I think he’s passed out... I wish I knew what he took... to make him so fucked up... I wish I knew... if he realized... what happened tonight... if he meant to come here... really... or if he just...

Forgot.

His head rolls on my shoulder and I don’t want to move... just hold him in my arms tightly... and I try to stop myself from clinging to him... it’s like...

Finding something you were sure you lost...

I never thought... I’d feel him in my arms again... and now that I do... I can’t let go...

All the rules are gone now. The rules of my life. His life. They’re all gone for me now.

I need to pick him up and see if he’s okay... Justin is pretty good about drugs... never takes too much... always... maintains that little bit of control... and I know it’s to watch out for me...

And the thought... makes me pull him to me again and press him to my chest...

What the fuck is the matter with me... how could I think... I could... just... let this go...

Without... fucking... trying...

I shut my eyes tightly... feel his heart... pounding... against mine... I wanna stay like this forever... wanna just hold him... forever... and never, ever let go... again...

But reality sets in... I gotta pick him up and dry him off and take him to bed... we can deal with everything tomorrow... we can... deal... with... whatever the fuck... tomorrow is going to be...

I stand up slowly and pull him up in my arms... he’s awake suddenly... and lets out a moan... his fingers move to his head and I see for the first time the angry red mark on his skull, poking out from under his wet hair... just next to the thin scar... from... from...

Panic sears through me... and I realize suddenly he’s not drunk, not stoned... just in pain... I say his name quickly and he looks at me foggily... tries to focus...

“What happened?” I ask him, holding him up in my arms, trying to see in his eyes...

“Headache,” he whispers, letting his hand drop.

I grip his arms hard, holding him up... I’m afraid his legs will buckle... I remember how bad his headaches could get... remember... when he had them last... remember... dealing with all this before... but... why why why does he have a bruise on his head... don’t tell me that fucker hit him... shit... I don’t wanna know that...

“Justin... are you okay?” I need him to talk to me now... need to find out what happened...

He stares at me... as though... he’s not sure where he is... “Yeah, okay... just... my head hurts bad.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?” I have to ask...

But he shakes his head. “Later... just... do we have any of those pills left? From before?”

I nod and guide him to the bed, helping him lie down... his face keeps scrunching up and I know he hurts and I wish... God... more than anything... I just wish I could take it away... just do anything... but stand here and watch him... helpless... as he struggles to release himself from his world of pain...

I bring him the pills and a glass of water... he takes them quickly, and lies back down on the pillows.

I think about taking him to the hospital, but Jesus Christ, I’ve had so much of that place, I never want to see it again... and besides... I don’t think he’d go.

He lies silently on his back, and I don’t want to disturb him... when he’d had these headaches before... he just needed rest and silence and darkness... and pills...

I strip off my clothes and climb into bed beside him, but don’t touch. I lay my head on the pillow and stare at him. Just fucking look at him. And think about... last night... lying here in this bed... holding him in my arms... I thought it would be our last night together. I thought it would be... the last night I’d ever let myself feel that way... and now... here I am... 24 hours later... he’s right beside me...

I had two hours without him. It was two hours too much.

*                                              *                                  *                                              *

Light streams in the loft when I finally open my eyes... it took me forever to fall asleep... and I kept waking up... not wanting to move... wanting to watch him... make sure he was okay... kept having to stop myself from reaching over and holding him... don’t know if he wants that... don’t know what he wants...

I realize that... I need to understand. Why he came back here.

I’m sure I told him... how I felt...

That I wouldn’t love him...

The same way...

That he had to decide...

I know I told him...

Lies... all lies...

Christ.

All I know... is how I felt... when I saw him walk away with that other...

I let him go once... when his mother asked me to... and... it was only because I wanted him to have everything he should... it was only because I knew in my heart that she was right... I needed to give Justin back. Because I’d had him... and with me... nothing good seemed to happen...

I roll out of bed quietly and come over to his side, just looking at him... he’s lying there... fast asleep... oblivious to everything... of course the fucking pills he took will make sure he gets rest...

I wish I could look at the bruise on his head, but it’s hidden from me...

It’s fucking making me crazy... why... the fuck would ANYONE ever... hit Justin...

Was it my fault again because he told that... Ethan... that he was coming back here?

Fuck...

All I do is cause trouble.

I tried everything to make Justin go away. Make him live his own life. Away from me.

And nothing has worked.

Maybe... I shouldn’t try... to push away... so hard...

Maybe...

He moves a little and I take a step back... I don’t wanna be caught staring at him... don’t wanna... be caught... watching him... I so fucking don’t know... what he wants or expects of me... what he hopes to find here... because... I have nothing new to offer him...

Just me.

And... I don’t know if that’s enough.

I can’t... I won’t... I refuse... to... be someone else...

I’m... all I have... and I’ve worked... so fucking hard... to get this confidence... to get this strength... and...

Christ...

I shake my head at my stupidity... my vanity... my pride...

And now I’m going to be fucking 31 years old in a couple of days. I have a 2 year old son, a $250,000 a year job, a loft worth half a million dollars... and such a serious commitment problem that... that... I’d rather crush Justin’s heart than give in to my own ego.

How can I be so... fucking powerful... and so fucking weak... all at the same time?

I glance at the clock... it’s just after 11:00... if he doesn’t wake up soon, his stomach will wake him up first... but he starts to move... and his eyes open... and he turns his head... and my gut flips at the dark bruise I see under his blond hair... and it makes me feel dizzy and I don’t care about being caught staring and I kneel down beside the bed and put my hand over his forehead so I don’t have to see it... 

“Hey... you awake now?” I whisper... just in case... he’s not really...

He nods... and his mouth opens in a silent gasp of pain...

My fingers run through his hair softly... I remember he sometimes liked this... when his brain was fighting with his skull for room...

“How’s your head,” I ask.

“Still hurts...” he closes his eyes again.

“You gonna tell me what happened now?” I rest my hand on the pillow beside his head. I wanna climb into bed beside him and kiss him all over to make him feel better... to make me feel better...

“No... Brian... it’s... over with...” he struggles out.

Later... later I’ll find out. Because I need to know. I can’t... just push this away.

“You want some food?” I ask...

“No... just some juice,” he whispers. “And some more pills.”

“You have to eat...” I say quietly...

He starts to push off the covers. “I’ll get it myself, nevermind,” he lifts off the duvet then lets out a moan as he starts to stand up... “Fuck...” He’s almost in tears with the pain...

I put my hand on his shoulder gently and try to get him to lie down again. He tries to resist at first then gives in, pulling the sheets up over his face. The blue cotton shakes with him as he argues with his body... tries not to cry... tries not to have a headache...

“Christ... Justin, what the fuck is going on?” I feel so fucking helpless...

“Nothing Brian. Just a headache,” his voice is muffled under the covers and I hear him sniff. “Can you just... leave me alone for a bit?”

I don’t say anything. Just get up. Walk out of the bedroom and close all the shutters. It doesn’t cut all the light, but it helps.

I don’t know what he fucking expects.

Go on to Part 6...