He looks so innocent when he sleeps. Hell he looks just as innocent when he’s awake. He always has. My mind races as I stand out here in the hallway looking in at him. I can’t believe I’m here, that he’s here, again. Oh God, I think to myself, NOT AGAIN. WHY?

I close my eyes try to push all thoughts of the last time out of my mind. He was so young then. His prom… I try not to think about it. Forget the past, live in the present. I’ve been practically chanting that to myself every night for the last three weeks. I look in again and see his face clearly. He’s troubled now; I can see it on his face, that expression. A nightmare I assume. God, somebody give him something, my mind screams.

I need to sit down. My legs suddenly feel weak. I hate to see him hurting, unconscious or awake; I just hate to see him hurting. I almost laugh bitterly at that thought. Who hurt him more than anyone else? Me. Always me.

I can still see the hurt in his eyes that last night. The night I decided not to hurt him ever again, just this one last time. I knew I couldn’t be what he needed. I couldn’t be who he really wanted. I could only be who I was, who I am. He deserved better than that.

I don’t know how I had the strength to do it. Still today I think I must have been on autopilot. I packed up everything he owned, and had it sitting at the door when he came home. I looked him in the eye, and I did the one thing I’ll regret forever, the one thing I always prided myself on not doing. I lied. I looked him in the eye and lied to him. I told him I didn’t want to be with him anymore. That I didn’t feel anything for him anymore, that passion dies. What could he do? Nothing and I knew that. What could he say? There wasn’t anything he could have said to that. So he didn’t do or say anything for the longest time. He just stood there staring at me. Trying to comprehend how I could just throw us away, after eight years.

He ended up doing the only thing he could do. He left. Grabbed what he could and walked out the door of our loft, but not before I could see the hurt all over his face. The tears in his baby blue eyes, the betrayed look on his face, I’d never felt so low in my life, but I knew why I needed to do this. It was for him, I would only drag him down. He was 25 years old, and there I was pushing 40.

At the time it made sense, but later I knew that I’d fucked up. I knew I couldn’t take it back, and I knew it was too late. He was happier eventually. I could see it on the rare occasions that our paths crossed. When he’d show up at Gus’s school functions with his new boyfriend, whenever I’d see him at the diner, he was always smiling, always happy. I was miserable, but he’d never know it. No one would. I refused to talk about him, about us, with anyone.

Ten years goes by quickly when you’re in denial. Denying the feelings you have, the feelings you had, the feelings you’re sure you’ll never share with another human being again. Maybe I was still on autopilot, I don’t know.

When Mikey called me three weeks ago, his voice shaking as he said it, my heart stopped. “Justin’s been hurt. It’s serious Brian. Gus is with him, they’re on the way to the hospital now. I can’t get a hold of Lindsay or Melanie.” Of course he was calling because of Gus, but my mind was stuck on the first part of it “Justin’s been hurt.”

I dropped to the floor. My knees buckled beneath me and I couldn’t breathe. I hung up the phone somehow and spoke only one word. “Sunshine.”

I knew I had to get to the hospital. My son was there with him, no one would think it out of the ordinary for me to be there for him. Why WAS Gus with him? It didn’t matter, I was just glad someone was with him.

Driving like a man possessed I made it to the hospital in record time. I saw Gus sitting in the waiting room alone. He was all dressed up, looking gorgeous; tears were sliding down his cheeks. He kept brushing them back and looking nervously at the door. As soon as he saw me he rushed into my arms. I held him tight and he broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably.

I managed to get him settled a bit and over to the sofa he was sitting on before. When he seemed to be a little more in control I pulled back a bit.

“What happened?” My voice cracked and I realized Gus wasn’t the only one who’d been crying. I brushed my own tears away with the side of my hand.

Gus shook his head and pushed back a sob before answering me. “Justin’s show… it opened tonight. I was there with Mom and Ma. We were going to go out for dinner to celebrate afterwards. Mom wasn’t feeling good, so Ma took her home. I asked if I could stay with Justin. He said we could still go out and get something to eat, to celebrate.”

He looked up at me as if somehow it was wrong for him to be spending time with Justin. I knew they’d always stayed close. For the eight years we were together Justin had been his second father, I knew he always would be. Hell I think I would have been pissed if they hadn’t stayed so close.

I nodded at him to let him know it was alright. He continued softly. “We were leaving the restaurant when it happened. We were almost to the car, when I realized I’d left my jacket inside. I went back in to get it. When I came outside a bunch of guys had him surrounded, before I could get to them….”

His voice trailed off and I knew exactly how he felt. My mind flashed back to that damn parking garage, to that damn baseball bat, before I could get to him…

I looked at Gus and he hugged me tight. He kept talking into my chest. “I tried to stop it. One of them had a tire iron. He bashed him in the head as I yelled. They grabbed his wallet… Then they all ran off.”

So here I was. I stood up again and looked into the room. Seventeen years later watching over him as he slept waiting for him to wake up. Wishing things were different. Wishing I was different.

Pressing my hand against the door and opening it, I vowed to myself that this time it would be different. I sat next to his bed and took his hand in mine. I almost broke down again, just touching him. It can be different, I think to myself, if he’d just wake up.

To be continued.