One Last Breath

Title and lyrics are by Creed

Please come now I think I’m falling

I’m holding on to all I think is safe

It seems I found the road to nowhere

And I’m trying to escape

I yelled back when I heard thunder

But I’m down to one last breath

And with it let me say

Let me say

Hold me now

I’m six feet from the edge and I’m thinking

That maybe six feet

Ain’t so far down

I’m looking down now that it’s over

Reflecting on all of my mistakes

I thought I found the road to somewhere

Somewhere in His grace

I cried out heaven save me

But I’m down to one last breath

And with it let me say

Let me say

Hold me now

I’m six feet from the edge and I’m thinking

That maybe six feet

Ain’t so far down

Sad eyes follow me

But I still believe there’s something left for me

So please come stay with me

‘Cause I still believe there’s something left for you and me

For you and me

For you and me

Hold me now

I’m six feet from the edge and I’m thinking 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BRIAN:

“More coffee?”

I look up to see Deb standing next to me, a coffee pot in her hand.

I shake my head, “I’m good.”  The others do to.

It’s been two months.  Two months since Robby came in here with a gun.  Two months since I stood outside while Justin fought for his life.  Just two months.  Seems like a fucking lifetime ago.

“How’s Sunshine?” Debbie asks.  That’s her first question any time she sees me.  Like if she asks just one more time the answer will change.

“Same.”

“That poor kid,” Deb shakes her head.

I sigh.  I hope she’d drop it.  It’s hard enough being here.  It’s hard enough being at home with Justin.  I just need a few minutes when I can just not think about what happened.

“He is so brave,” she goes on.

“Yeah, too fucking brave for his own good,” I snap.  Why the fuck did I say that?  Great.  Here it comes.

“What?!”  I’m not sure which one of them screamed at me.  I think all of them.

“He saved all of our lives in here,” Deb says, ready to rip me a new asshole.

“What did you want him to do?” Emmett asked.

“How about sit in the corner, pissing in his pants from fear, and wait for the fucking cops to save his ass,” I say. 

I wait for their reaction, but they just stare at me, shocked that I’d say something like that about Justin.  But why not?  It’s the fucking truth.  It’s what I’ve been thinking ever since that night.  Why couldn’t he have just waited for the cops to do their job?  Why?  What possessed him to act like a fucking hero?

I get up, throw a few bucks on the table, and walk out of the diner. 

“You didn’t mean that, did you?” Michael followed me to the jeep.  Why does he always do that?  He knows I’m upset, there’s a reason why I leave, but he still goes after me, as if there is something that he can do to fix it, as if by following me he can make the last two months go away.

“You don’t think so?” I say, turning around.

“Come on, Brian.”

He wants me to explain.  To tell him why I feel that way.  What does he know?  How could he ever understand?  I’m the one who has to watch my lover destroy himself.  I sigh. 

“He barely eats or drinks, he’s flunking out of school, he can’t sleep unless he’s high on something, he doesn’t talk.  The only time he goes out is to get wasted and to find someone to fuck.”

Michael looks at me shocked.  What did he expect?  What did all of them expect?  That Justin would just forget?

“I’m sure that he just needs…”

“What, time?” I laugh at how ridiculous it sounds.  “Mickey, you don’t just get over something like that.  He killed a man.”

~~~

JUSTIN:

For a hundredth time I’m wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.  Oh, yeah, I have to be here.  Otherwise I’ll flunk out.  As if I care.  But fucking Brian had to make this speech about how I worked so hard to get here and I can’t just throw it away.  Fuck.  He really is good at advertising.  He can even sell going to school to someone as fucked up as I am right now.  I try to focus on what the teacher’s saying.  He’s going on and on about Renoir.  I look at the slides.  All the people in his paintings look so content, serene.  The world in his pictures seems so perfect, so happy, so harmonious.  I wish I had that.  I wish just for a few minutes I could be in that world. 

And that’s when I see him.  He’s standing right in front of me.  Taunting me, haunting me.  He’s everywhere now.  And no matter how hard I try, he won’t go away.  Robby.  He won’t give me one moment of peace, one moment when I can forget.  What I’ve done to him.  I close my eyes, count to ten.  Open them. He’s still there.  I can’t.  I can’t do this.  I can’t breathe.  Can’t think.  Need to get out of here.   I grab my backpack and run out of the class. 

~~~

BRIAN:

I dial his number, nothing.  He’s not picking up.  He usually doesn’t.  Knowing that it’s me.  Knowing what I’m doing.  I’m checking up on him.  Again.  Christ.  Never thought that would happen.  Brian Kinney checking up on somebody.  But here I am, dialing his number yet again.  I’m not sure if I’m doing it for him, to let him know that I’m here if he needs me or for me. 

Just then my door opens and Vance comes in.  I turn my phone off and look at him.

“What’s up?” I ask Vance as he walks into my office.

“I need you to head the Semsi pitch.”

“I thought Johnson was leading that.”

“I don’t think he can handle it on his own.”

Fuck.  This means I’d have to go to Atlanta.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I say.

“It’s a 40 million dollar campaign, Brian.  I’m not gonna take that chance.”

I sigh, “Right now is not a good time, Vance.”  I hate saying that, but I can’t leave Justin right now.  I know he’s getting frustrated, but he knows the real reason.  It was all over the news when it happened.

“It’s only two days.  I NEED you to do this,” he says and walks out. 

I curse silently, then buzz Cynthia in.  I tell her to make the arrangements, then take out my cell and dial a number. 

“Hey, I need a favor,” I say when he picks up a phone.

~~~

“I’ll have my cell on at all times and I put the number of the hotel on the coffee table,” I tell him as I finish up packing.  He doesn’t even acknowledge me.  Just sits there, in a chair by the window, staring out.  “Justin,” I try to get his attention.

“Hmm?” he finally turns to me.  “Fine,” turns away again.

I walk up to him from behind, put my arms around his neck, and kiss him on the cheek.  “I’ll be back on Thursday.”

“Ok.”

I turn him around so that he’s looking at me. 

“I’ll be ok,” he says, “You don’t have to baby-sit me twenty-four seven.”

“I’m not.”

“So you’re telling me you didn’t ask Michael to look after me while you’re gone?”

I stick my tongue in cheek. He knows me too well.  He smirks, then gets up and walks away.

~~~

JUSTIN:

I drown another shot.  I can feel it working.  Numbing me inside.  I don’t feel anything right now.  Good.  I look around.  Some guy’s eyeing me.  He’s nothing special.  In fact, if I wasn’t drunk I wouldn’t even have looked his way, but I am.  And he’s breathing and has a dick.  Fits all the prerequisites.  I move closer to him, grab his hand, and pull him after me into the backroom. 

I push him against the wall.  He tries to kiss me, I pull away.  I don’t need the foreplay right now.  I don’t need anything right now except my dick up his ass.  I unzip his pants.  He turns around.  I unzip mine.  Put a condom on. 

“Justin,” I hear behind me.

Fucking Michael. 

“What?”

“It’s late.  Let me take you home.”

“I’m busy,” I say.

He tries to grab my arm.

“Fuck off,” I growl at him.

“Come on,” he tries again.

“FUCK.  OFF.”

I start fucking the trick right in front of him.  I’m pretty sure I saw the shock on his face, but I don’t care right now.  Don’t care about anything.  Just need to feel something else, something good for a change. 

~~~

BRIAN:

We got done earlier than I thought, so I left Johnson to wine and dine the client for a couple of days and caught the first flight home. 

It’s early, only after 8 in the morning, when I open the door to the loft.  It’s quiet.  I’m sure he’s still asleep.  I slide the door shut, drop my bags on the floor, and walk to the bedroom. 

He’s not alone.  There’s another body in my bed, our bed, on my side.  I feel the jealousy creeping up.  I try to push that emotion away.  It’s not like we don’t bring tricks back home all the time.  But they never stay the night.  He was probably so fucked up out of his mind, he didn’t even care. 

I clear my throat, loud enough to wake him up.  He opens his eyes and looks at me, confused for a moment.  He’s majorly hungover.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey.” 

He noticed the body next to him.  “Who the fuck is he?” he asks me.

What the fuck was he on?  “I’m guessing he’s the guy you fucked last night.”

He grimaces. 

Just then the trick wakes up.  “Well, well, well, nobody told me about a party.”  He thinks I’m gonna join. 

“Get the fuck out,” Justin growls at him.  “Fuck, I think I’m gonna puke,” he rushes to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

The trick looks at me. “I guess it’s just you and me,” he tells me.

“He said get the fuck out,” I repeat.  I want him out of my home, out of my bed, as soon as possible.

I watch him get dressed, trying my best not to throw him out on the street half naked.  He leaves and I shut the door behind him.  Then I walk over to the kitchen, get a bottle of water out of the fridge and a bottle of aspirin from a cabinet.  I make a mental note to buy more.  I know he’s gonna need it. 

I hear the retching sound.  I want to go over there and help him.  Put him in bed and hold him all day, until he feels better, but I can’t.  I know he won’t let me.  He won’t let me do anything for him.  He won’t do anything for him.  He’s completely falling apart.  Piece by piece…every day a little part of him disappears, dies.  I can see that he’s drowning, but no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to pull him from under water. 

About fifteen minutes later he finally comes out of the bathroom, looking sick and tired.  He sits on one of the stools and I slide the water and aspirin over to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Have fun last night?” I sneer.

He looks up at me.  “I thought you were coming back Thursday.”

“It is Thursday,” I say quietly.

He looks away.

I wonder if I should put off talking to him for later, when he feels better.  But he hasn’t felt better in a while.  How long do I wait?  I decide to go for it.

“Justin, maybe you should talk to somebody.”

His eyes snap back at me, “Like who?”

“Like a therapist,” I try to stay calm, even though he’s getting aggravated and defensive.

“I don’t need a fucking shrink, Brian,” he starts to get up, but I grab his arm, holding him in place. 

“I think you do.”

“Let go of me,” he frees his hand from mine and gets up.

“You need help.”

“What I need is for this fucking headache to go away.”

“You don’t talk to me, you don’t talk to anybody,” I say, trying to stop him from walking away.

He turns around, “And what is talking going to accomplish?  It’s not gonna fix anything!” he shouts.

“So, that’s it?  You’re just not gonna do anything?  Just gonna get drunk every night and fuck your brains out?”

“Isn’t it what you’ve been doing your whole life?  I’m just trying to catch up,” he scoffs.

“Don’t do this, Justin.”

“Don’t do what?!”

I walk over and stand in front of him.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.  He came in there with a gun.  With every intention of using that gun.  He didn’t get what he wanted and he decided to solve it with force.  He was going to hurt you.  To kill you.  It was either you or him.”

“This isn’t a fucking jungle, Brian.”  He tries to walk away again.

“It was self defense, Justin.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I killed a man!” He shouts.

I know he’s right, but I can’t let him give up like this.  I can’t let him lose.

I take a step towards him and cup his face with my hand, forcing him to look at me.

“I need you to fight this, Justin.”

He tries to look away.  But I don’t let him.  I need him to see what I can’t tell him.  Need him to see what I’m feeling.  How desperate I am right now.  I need him to let me help him.  I need him to let him help himself.

“You can fight this.”

I pull him in closer, embracing him.  We stay like this for a while, arms around each other, in the middle of the loft.

“I missed you the last two days,” he whispers.

I pull away slightly so that I can look at him, “I’m surprised you even noticed I was gone,” I smirk.

He tries to pulls away, breaking the contact between our bodies, “Of course I noticed.  There was nobody here to nag me,” he says, resentment in his voice.

I take his hand and pull him to me again, not letting him push me away this time.  I kiss him, powerfully, passionately.  I need him to know that I did miss him.  That all I could think about was getting back home, to make sure that he was ok, to get him in bed and fuck him all day and night. 

We’re on the same page.  He’s frantically trying to unbutton my shirt while kissing me.  I pull my tie off, then help him remove my shirt off my body.  We make it to the bedroom and I push him on the bed.  Removing my pants, I get on top of him, my tongue attacking his mouth.  He pulls away and hands me a condom, then rolls over on his stomach.  I slip into him, slowly, carefully.  I try to go slow, to make it last, to make him feel good for as long as I can, but he won’t let me.  He wants it fast and wants it rough.  So I give it to him.  I’d give him anything he wants right now.

~~~

JUSTIN:

I look at the clock.  It’s 3:30pm.  Brian’s gone to the office for a few hours, so I’m alone.  In bed.  I try to keep my mind blank.  Don’t want to think about anything right now.  Don’t want to feel anything right now.  I close my eyes, trying to remember the feel of Brian inside me.  But once again I see HIM.  The sound of the gun going off, that moment…playing in my head over and over.  No.  Can’t think about that.  Can’t.  Won’t.  Think of Brian.  Yes.  Brian.  He sounded so desperate, so concerned.  I hate this.  I hate that once again I’m hurting him.  I swore I’d never do that again.  But here I am…going under and pulling him with me.  I keep hearing his words, his plea to fight this…thing.  Whatever it is I’m going through.

There’s a knock on the door.  I ignore it, hoping that whoever it is will go away, but the knocking continues.  I get up, put my pants and shirt on and go to the door.  It’s Michael.  Fuck.  I really am not in a mood for a fucking lecture right now.

“Brian’s not here,” I tell him, leaving him to close the door.

“Oh…that’s…uhm…that’s ok.  I actually came here to talk to you,” he stutters.

Oh, great.  Here it comes.  He definitely is his mother’s son.

“About what?” I ask him without even looking at him. 

“Uhm…” he hesitates, and I’m hoping that he’d just drop it and leave.  “Justin, if there’s anything…I mean, if you need anything…”

I turn around and look at him.  He’s actually trying to be my friend right now.  Wow.  It’s been a while.  I mean, we did make up after he told Brian about me and Ethan.  Christ, that seems like such a long time ago.  We both apologized and made up, for Brian’s sake.  But after that I could never really trust him.  Not completely anyway.  And I know it’s the same for him.  And here he is, trying to be my friend again?  Ha. 

“What are you talking about?” I ask him, annoyed.

“I’m worried about you.  Everybody’s worried about you.”

I can’t help smirking.  I turn around.  I don’t need this right now.

“Brian’s worried about you.”

That stops me cold.  Brian.  Fuck.  ‘Fight this, Justin’.

Michael starts to leave, slides the door open, then turns around.  “I don’t think I thanked you.”

“For what?”

“Saving my mother’s life.” 

I stare at him, unable to speak.  Deb’s ok.  All those other people are ok.  I helped them.  Saved them.  And now they’re trying to help me, save me.  They want me to be ok.  They need me to be ok.  Especially Brian.  I have to do this for him.  I HAVE to.

~~~

BRIAN:

It’s late when I get back.  It took me a lot longer to finish up than I thought it would.  I’m surprised to find him home.  Sitting on the couch.  Not out fucking or getting stoned or in bed sleeping it off.  He’s on the couch; book in his hands, another book lying on the coffee table, and a sketchbook beside him. 

“Hey.”  I hate that I sound so surprised, but I am.

He looks up at me, “Hey.”

I walk over to him and give him a peck on the cheek.  “What are you doing?”

“Homework.”

With that one word my whole mood, everything I was feeling all day today, changes.  Did he say homework?  I look at him, not believing my eyes, my ears.  And he looks different, calmer, more together.  A little more like the old Justin.

“Oh…that’s…uhm…that’s…good,” I say, turning around, trying to hide the elated look on my face.  I walk over to the kitchen and open the fridge, looking for something.  Anything.  Doesn’t matter. 

I hear him following me to the kitchen.

“I…uh…I’m going…I want to…” 

I turn around and look at him. 

“I’m trying,” he finally says.

“I know.”   

I put down the bottle of Evian I took out of the fridge and walk over to him.

“I think that maybe I should go see somebody,” he says as I put my arms around him.

“Ok.”

“And…I’m…going back to the diner tomorrow.”

What?!!!  I push him away so I can see his face.  “Justin, I don’t think…”

“I have to.”

“But…”

“If I want things to get back to normal, I have to.”  He’s so calm.  Completely composed. 

I search his face, his eyes, for a sign of any emotion other than this…calm.  But he’s determined not to show me.  Determined to make me stop worrying, which makes me worry even more.  What the fuck am I supposed to do now?  Tell him I won’t let him go back there.  I can barely go back there myself.  But for him…  It would tear him up.  Fuck.  I can’t think.  I can’t say anything.  I pull him in closer again.  I just hold on to him.  I try to just hold on to him.  Maybe if I hold on tight enough he won’t float away, won’t drown.

~~~

JUSTIN:

I’ve been standing in front of the diner for ten minutes now.  Just staring at the door.  Can’t make myself go in.  I reach for the door, then move my hand away.   Fuck.  I need to do this.  I have to.  If I can’t do this, I might as well just give up on myself.  And I can’t do that.  For Brian.  For the rest of them.  Can’t give up.  Have to do this.  I reach for the door again and this time I pull it open.

“Sunshine!” I see Deb running towards me.  She hugs me, gives me a sloppy kiss on the check, then tries to wipe off her lipstick, just like she always does. 

I try to smile at her.  Not sure it works.  She has this “Are you sure you wanna do this?” look on her face.  Of course I’m not, Deb.  But I have to. 

~~~

I still have no idea how I did it, but I made it.  Through the entire shift.  Somehow I did it.  I could see him…standing there…waving a gun at me…or just standing there…just looking at me…in disbelief at what I did.  I tried to shake it off, but he was still there.  When I saw it was 9 o’clock I practically ran out of the diner. 

I finally made it to the loft.  I slide the door open.  I barely notice that Brian’s there, in the living room.  I head straight for the kitchen, pulling out a bottle Jim Beam…Brian’s favorite…and take a few big gulps.  I can’t stop shaking.  Just need to stop shaking and I’ll be fine.

~~~

BRIAN:

I was supposed to have a late dinner with a client, but I sent Cody instead.  I knew I had to be here.  When he got back.  I had to be here.  When I heard the door slide open I let out a huge sigh.  He’s fine.  He’s home.  That was until I saw him.  Downing Jim Beam like that.  I walk over to him.  Stand right behind him.  I’m not even touching him and I can feel him shaking, feel him trembling. 

I take a step closer, put my arms on his shoulders and turn him around.  I want to see his face.  Need to see his face.  But when he turns around a part of me wishes I didn’t.  Fuck.  He can barely catch his breath.  And fuck…he’s shaking so hard. 

I cup his face with my hands, gently running my thumbs over his cheeks, trying to calm him down.  It’s not working.  I lean in and kiss him.  At first he just stands there, but then he begins to respond.  Thank God.  He pulls me in closer, clinging to me as if I was his only lifeline.  And I know.  I am.  

~~~

JUSTIN:

I open my eyes.  It’s dark.  The only light is coming from the moon outside.  I look to the side.  Brian’s not here.  I look at the clock.  It’s almost four in the morning.  I sit up and look around.  He’s not in the bathroom.  I get up slowly and walk over to the steps.  And that’s when I see him.  He’s standing by the window, completely lost in his thought. 

I watch him.  God, he’s beautiful.  Every contour of his body, his face.  I know them so well.  Every line, every feature.  I’ve drawn them so many times and it still amazes me how beautiful this man is.  No matter what emotions he’s feeling.  Happy, sad, horny, spent, distraught…over his lover…losing the fight…with himself.  I know.  This is what he’s thinking about.  Me.  And it’s killing me inside.  That he’s up at four in the morning.  That he can’t sleep.  Because he’s so fucking scared for me.  I know he doesn’t want me to go back.  But seeing him like that…standing there…I know I have to try this.  I know I have to give it just one last shot. 

~~~

BRIAN:

We’re in the bathroom.  Just got out of the shower.  I’m drying myself off with a towel when I look up at him.  He’s standing there, staring at himself in the mirror.  I stand behind him, put my arms around his body, pull him closer.  He closes his eyes.  We both do.  Just stand there.  It’s as if he’s getting the energy, the courage he needs from me. 

I open my eyes and stare at him in the mirror. 

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him.

He opens his eyes and stares back at me in the mirror.

“Yes.  I do.”

He turns around and now we’re facing each other.

“I just want…” my voice cracks.  I just want you to be ok.  That’s all I want.  Just for you to be ok. 

“I know.”

“You’re gonna be just fine,” I say, not sure who I’m trying to convince, him or me.  I smile and he smiles back.

He puts his hand on my cheek and pulls me in for a kiss. 

“I should go,” he says as he pulls away.

~~~

JUSTIN:

“It’s great work, Justin,” professor Markson says and I let out a sigh of relief.  At least my art is still there…for me…as always.  “I’m glad to see you getting back into things.”  Great, does everybody know about what happened? 

“Yeah, it’s been kinda…” I can’t finish.

She smiled sympathetically.  “Well, I’m glad you’re doing better.” 

“Thanks.”

She hands my drawings back to me.  “See you in class tomorrow.”

I pack up my things and leave.  My shift starts in less than an hour.

~~~

BRIAN:

“Hey,” I say, answering my cell, trying not to sound surprised that he actually called me.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”  Cynthia walks in, but I signal her to go away. 

“Nothing.  Just thought I’d call you before my shift.”

He sounds nervous, but tries to hide it.  I want to tell him to just forget about the diner and go home.  But I know he wants to do this.  Needs to do this. 

“How was school?”  I ask instead.

“Fine.”

“What did your teacher say?”

“Not much.  Said that I should be ok grades-wise.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah.  I think everybody here knows about what happened, so…”

I don’t want to talk about this right now, so I change the subject.

“You wanna go out tonight?”  He wants for things to get back to normal, so I’m trying too.

“Uhm…I’m not…I don’t…”

“That’s ok.  We’ll just see, I guess.”  I get an image of him from last night…shaking, on the verge of breakdown.  I shake it away.  If he believes that he can do it, I believe it too.

“Well, I should go.  I’m almost here.”

“Justin.”

“Yeah.”

“I…uh…” Fuck.  I sigh.  Why can’t I fucking say it?  “I’ll pick you up after your shift.”

“Ok.  Later.”

“Later.”

~~~

JUSTIN:

I don’t stop and think before I open the door.  I don’t think I’d be able to do it if I did.  I just go in.  Deb waves to me and I just nod and head into the back to put my stuff away and get my apron. 

We’re pretty busy for most of the day.  Everybody’s outside enjoying the beautiful weather.  I run around, pouring coffee, cleaning tables, taking orders.  I don’t stop.  Can’t stop.  Can’t think of anything other than the task at hand.  And it works.  I don’t see him.  I’ve made it through half of my shift without nearly freaking out once.  I guess I was smiling because Deb asked me what I was smiling about.  “Nothing,” I said and picked up the coffee pot. 

I made sure everybody had their cups filled and was about to go back to the counter when I saw it.  The two of us rolling on the floor, fighting for the gun.  I close my eyes, try to shake it off, but it’s still there.  I hear the gun going off again.  I can feel his blood on me.  I can see myself pushing him off of me.  And then I just sit there.  Next to his lifeless body.  I remember the phone rang.  I remember saying, ‘He’s dead’ and then hanging up. 

“Sunshine,” I hear Deb calling me, but her voice seems so far away. 

I still stare at that spot.  The one I try to avoid at all cost.  He’s lying there, bleeding.  Begging me to help.  And I can’t.  I can’t help.  Because I’m dead, just like he is.  I am dead.  Somebody walks towards me, right through that spot…right through him.  And I hear myself scream, shout…”NO!”  I hear a sound of glass breaking as the pot hits the floor.  And I just run.  I can’t be here.  Debbie is calling after me, but I can’t stop.  Can’t.  I’m sorry, Deb.  I…just…can’t.  It’s over. 

~~~

BRIAN:

The moment Cynthia said that Debbie was on the phone I knew.  In all the time I’ve known her she called me at work once…when Michael had a breakdown in the hospital because Vic was dying.  She needed me to take care of Michael because she had to take care of her brother.  That was the only time.  So something had to be wrong, really wrong, for her to call me.  She said Justin just freaked out.  Out of the blue.  Out of the blue, my ass.  I knew he shouldn’t have gone there.  He was trying too hard.  But I let him.  And now…now I have no idea where he is…or what to do. 

I get to the loft in a record time.  How I didn’t kill anybody or myself in the process is a mystery, but I don’t care.  I have to find him.  I know that there are hundreds of places that he could be right now, but the loft is the first place I look.  The only place I know to look. 

I slide the door open and look around.  “Justin.”  No answer.  I’m about to leave, try other places, when I hear the water running in the shower.  Thank God.  I sigh, then head to the bathroom.  My heart rate is getting back to normal by the time I reach the bathroom door.  I walk through and…freeze.  I think my heart just stops at what I see in front of me.  He’s…he’s on the floor…in the shower…the water pouring down…and…I see…the razor…lying next to him…and…blood…mixed with water…trickling down his arm. 

I snap out of it.  I know I can’t lose it right now.  For him.  I grab a towel and get into the stall, next to him.  He’s been in here so long the water turned cold.  I wrap his arm in a towel, pressing on the cut. 

“What did you do?!  What the fuck did you do?!”

I don’t think he even knows I’m there.  He just stares off into space.  I shake him a little.  I put my hands on his face and make him look at me.  “Justin.”

“Hmm.”

That’s all I get out of him. 

I pull him out of the shower and wrap him in a bigger towel, drying him off.  He can barely stand.  I take him into the bedroom, pull some clothes of his lying around, and then we leave.  I’m speeding through town once again…this time to the hospital. 

I pull up to the entrance and take him out of the jeep.  I’m almost carrying him now.  Inside the nurse runs up to us, another one grabs a wheelchair.  They tell me I have to stay here.  I try to go with him, but they don’t let me.  I stand in the middle of the hall, watching him being wheeled off somewhere…away from me…unable to move. 

I feel somebody’s hand on my arm.  I turn to see a young nurse handing me some scrubs.  “You should change out of those wet clothes,” she says. 

I look down and only now I realize that I’m completely soaked.  I take the scrubs and nod.  I want to thank her, but the words don’t make it out of my mouth.  So, I just stand there.

~~~

JUSTIN:

I open my eyes.  I’m back at the loft.  Brian’s sitting next to the bed.  He doesn’t look at me and I don’t move.  Don’t say a word.  Just watch him. 

“You said you loved me.”

He startles me.  Somehow he knows I’m awake.

He finally turns and looks at me.  Fuck.  There’s so much pain in his eyes.  He’s not hiding it anymore.  I know he can’t. 

“Was it a lie?” he asks.

I take a deep breath, try to answer but the words don’t make it out.  I inhale again. 

“No,” I finally say. 

“Then…” he looks away, clenching his jaw.  He turns back to me, “How could…why?”  He wants me to answer.  To tell him how I could just give up like that.  And I can’t.  I just stare back at him.  Not knowing what to say.  ‘I’m sorry’ is not enough.  And that’s all I have to offer. 

He stands up and walks away…into the bathroom…closes the door behind him.  I sit up in bed, not knowing what to do next…what he’ll do next…and wait.

~~~

BRIAN:

Fuck.  How could he?  How could he fucking do that?  I know it’s hard.  Who the fuck am I kidding?  I have no idea what he’s going through.  I know he’s fighting to stay afloat…WAS fighting to stay afloat.  He was doing really well.  But then he just gave up.  Why?  Why did he just give up like that?  I’m so fucking angry right now.  I want to just shake him, knock some sense into him, do whatever it takes to make him realize that he can’t do that.  That I won’t let him do that…ever again. 

That’s when I see it.  The razor.  It’s still lying there…in the shower stall. 

~~~

He’s sitting on the bed when I come out, staring at me, awaiting my next move.  I walk over to him and hand him the razor.  He looks up at me, confused. 

“Cut me,” I tell him.

“What?”  The confused look turns bewildered.

“Cut me.”

“No.”

He tries to move away from me, but I grab his hand and push the razor into his palm.

“CUT! ME!” 

“NO!”

“Come on,” I say grabbing his hand again and trying to press the razor to my wrist.

He tries to pull away, but I’m stronger. 

“Stop it.  Stop it.  Stop it.  Stop it.  STOP! IT!” he screams. 

I let him go.  We stare at each other, both trying to catch our breath, both shaking.  I see tears running down his face as he looks at me.  I want to wipe those tears away and hold him in my arms, but I can’t.  Not yet.  I have to make my point.

“Why?!  Because your life is less important than mine?!  Or because you think that I don’t give a shit?!” I’m shouting.  “Don’t you fucking get it?  Whatever happens to you, happens to me.  You hurt, I hurt.  You cut yourself, YOU CUT ME.”

And I can see that he can’t hold it back anymore.  He covers his face with his hands, sobbing.

“It’s…just…too…hard.”  His words are barely audible.

And all the anger washes away.  All that’s left is this enormous need to have my arms around him.

I take a couple of steps to the bed, sit next to him, and pull him to me as he finally lets it all out.

~~~

JUSTIN:

I wake up later that night.  The first thing I see is the two hazel eyes staring back at me.  He strokes my cheek, gently, barely touching it.  And I need him close.  As close as possible.  We kiss.  Slowly.  Softly.  His every move is gentle and tender…as if he’s afraid that I could break at any moment.  We don’t rush it.  It’s not about urgency this time.  We just need to feel each other, to touch each other, to be as close as we can, for as long as we can.  After we both climax we still stay together…arms and legs intertwined. 

Brian finally drifts off to sleep, but I can’t.  I can’t get the look in his eyes, the pain I caused him out of my head. 

I breathe in his scent.  Take in the feel of his body pressed against mine as he snores slightly.  I think about the feel of his lips on my body, the feel of his fingers laced with mine. 

I can’t let this go on.  I can’t keep hurting both of us like this.  I can’t keep hurting him. 

~~~

BRIAN:

He seems different this morning.  Calm…again.  I think he actually smiled at me a couple of times as we drank coffee.  I was planning on taking the day off, but Cynthia called and said that once again there was a problem with the Semsi account and I needed to come in.  I was about to tell her to fuck off when Justin said that I should go.  That he’s fine.  I didn’t believe him, of course, but somehow he talked me into going.  I told him I’ll be back in a couple of hours.  He just kissed me.  And then hugged me. 

 When I closed the door behind me I had this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was wrong.  That something is going to happen that will turn my world upside down.  I had this urge to run back in, but I fought it.  I pushed it away as I walked downstairs and got into the jeep.  He is ok.  He got my message.  I know he won’t do that again.  It’ll take a long time, but he’ll be ok. 

At work I get to yell at a couple of idiots.  Don’t know their names.  Don’t remember.  Don’t really give a fuck anyway.  An hour and forty-five minutes later I leave the office.  I drive by this Italian restaurant Justin loves.  I decide to go in and order his favorite.  Pasta might be a little too heavy for lunch and we will probably be bouncing off the walls for the rest of the day, high on carbs and sugar, but I don’t care about that right now. 

~~~

The moment I open the door I can sense that something’s not right, something’s changed.  I walk in, close the door behind me, look around.  Everything’s in the same place it was when I left this morning, but something’s still off.  The loft feels…different.

“Justin,” I call out his name. 

Nothing. 

I look around again.  I notice his sketchbook’s not on the coffee table anymore.  The knot in my stomach is tightening.  I put the bag with the take out on the coffee table and start to walk towards the bedroom when I notice it.  A piece of white paper lying on the kitchen counter…one word written on it…”Brian”. 

I just stand there…unable to move…and stare at it.  I don’t read it.  Don’t have to.  Don’t need to.  I know what it says.  He’s gone.  And now…I’m the one who’s drowning.

Go to The Next Time We Touch

HOME