"Okay."
Back at the cabin, Brian limped out of bed, moving to stand on the front porch slamming himself upon the porch swing. Swaying back and forth, his eyes scanned the nearby clearing then drifting to the athletic field, narrowing on the path to the woods. Knowing Justin like he thought he did Brian figured him for some alone time. Probably at the boathouse.
He’d not meant for that to happen with Jason. Not meant for any of it, let alone Justin’s eyes seeing it. Brian hadn’t really thought about Jason since the first night in the woods...all he thought about was Justin. And how different they were but how right they seemed. This morning, when Mark tripped him, his first thought upon flailing to the floor had been of Justin. Where was he? Was he next? And then when Justin touched him, in front of Ben and Jason...in front of everyone! He shut himself down, flinching from that touch. That contact. He’d told him time and again that they couldn’t be open like that. They’d be sitting ducks, bait for the bashers. But if he was truthful, as much as the touch made him recoil, he’d wanted so much to lean into it. Feel Justin’s hands on him. Caring for him. Touching him.
Brian waited on the porch. After all the other kids had come and gone, coming back from sports or whatever, showering and changing for dinner, making their phone calls, through mail call- Brian waited.
While Brian waited, Justin spent his time in the studio with Ben. Trying to calm the boy, bringing a better mood or frame of mind to the situation, he’d tried all he could think of to cheer the boy up. Telling jokes, making stupid faces- but that was something to did to cheer up a sick child, a hurt boy. Ben knew Justin wasn’t just some kid, but the way he wrung his hands, head low, eyes flighty, Ben realized that Justin was very mature for his age and gauging his current situation. Only recollecting plus gathering some information from Daphne, Ben knew of Justin’s home life but nothing of the loss of Matthew or whatever else seemed to haunt the boy.
"You can talk to me, Justin. Okay?"
"But, you want more than that, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"I see the way you look at me. It’s nice you know? And Brian, he...well. Nevermind."
"Did you and Brian have a fight?"
"You could say that."
Not wanting to force the issue onto Justin, Ben treaded lightly, skirting. “"ell, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably be back close as ever tomorrow."
"I don’t think so."
"And why’s that?"
"I think you know. Don’t you? You knew, you have to."
"About Jason? Yes, I knew. But, I thought it was over."
"Me too. I thought it was too. And, me and Brian?"
"Yeah, I knew that as well. I could tell, you know?"
Shaking his head in acknowledgement, Justin looked up to the sun.
"If it’s any consolation, it doesn’t mean anything. I mean, Jason and Brian aren’t...you know."
"Well, me and Brian *are*. And, it always means something Ben. Always!" Wincing from the pain in his young heart, "Even if just for a short while...it still does."
Moving closer to Justin, Ben reached out, tentatively touching Justin’s cheek. "I thought you said it was over."
Leaning his head into the touch, body going slack for that hunger of human touch and compassion or something akin to it that validates your being, Justin felt Ben’s warm palm against his cheek, his fingers on his neck. Closing his eyes, Ben moved closer, turning so that they stood face to face, only Ben’s height, much like Brian, had him towering over Justin. His other hand holding onto Justin’s head, opposite the other, he lifted Justin’s face to meet his. With a questioning look, Ben’s eyes asked the question.
"Yeah, I mean, we *were*," and Justin’s hands wrapped around Ben’s hips, pressing them closer at the crotch area. "Kiss me."
And then Ben did.
After dinner Daphne came by Cabin 11 to check on her wayward ward. Trotting up the steps, she glanced Brian on the porch swing. "I brought you some dinner. Sloppy Joe’s," she said, holding the tin foil covered Chinet within Brian’s reach.
"Slop is right. Besides, I’m not hungry."
Nodding to herself, Daphne placed the plate on the railing and moved to sit next to Brian on the swing. In the silence of dusk, swaying back and forth, they sat.
"What time is it?"
Glancing at her watch, "Uh, quarter to seven."
"Hm."
"Waiting on someone?"
Not giving the satisfaction of a frontal acknowledgement or denial, Brian rolled his eyes.
"I know about you."
Chuckling to himself, "Takes one to know one. Right?"
Laughing a little herself, "No, I know about you and Jason. And Ben. Oh, and Justin."
Justin’s name caught his attention, causing Brian to look at the girl sitting next to him. "Really? And what is this that you think you know? Hm?"
Baiting him, "It’ll be alright, Brian. He’ll be alright. He’s with Ben."
Squaring his jaw, his eyes momentarily squeezing shut as his heart dropped to the floor, Brian realized his suspicions were being confirmed in a big way. "Great. I’m sure Ben, the great counselor that he is, is doing fine by young Justin."
Watching Brian, taking in his clenched fist, knuckles white not from the swelling in his ankle, Daphne curiously pushed further. "It’s okay you know? To be who you are."
"And who am I?"
"A normal 13 year old boy. Dealing with life, love and realization. It’s normal Brian."
"I’m almost 14. And, I may be dealing with a lot of shit but love ain’t one of them."
Smirking, "Whatever."
Daphne got up to leave, "Eat something, okay?"
"You know, we've been here four weeks and this is the first time you've actually talked to me. What, they coming down hard on the counselors if they don't 'reach out' to the lost causes?"
"You walk the other way when you see me, so what's the big deal?"
"You're not even Justin's counselor yet you're up his ass half the time, making nice and finger painting. Why aren't you off talking with him now? Oh wait, that's right...Ben's with him. Why don't you go dyke it up with your girlfriend Melanie...I don't need your help or your guidance."
Shaking her head at him, "Brian," Daphne started then faultered. "I'll check on your ankle tomorrow, okay?"
As she reached the steps, Brian called out to her. "It’s wrong you know. What Ben is doing. It’s wrong...he’s just a kid. He’s too old to be doing that with him."
Turning around, Daphne considered this and Brian’s face staring into her. "Yeah, well, what about you and Jason? Huh? Isn’t that wrong too?"
Shaking his head, "You don’t know Justin. Not as well as you’d like to think. I can take care of myself- I don’t give a shit about Jason! Justin’s special...he’s gonna get hurt."
"Like he is now? What’s the matter Brian, are you afraid Ben will hurt him more or is that you want to be the one to hurt him again and again...be the only one?"
Huffing, he waved Daphne off. Smiling, making her point, she whistled a little tune while jogging off to meet Melanie.
An hour or two later, Justin came back. It was more like two hours, much to Brian’s chagrin. As he rounded the path from the studio to cabin row, he saw a figure siloutted by the moon on the porch. Realizing it was Brian, he slowed his pace. Coming up the steps, "Where have you been?"
"Around," Justin replied nonchalantly, continuing on.
Pissed. Unbelievably pissed at his fear and hurt for the boy while Justin displayed this lackadaisical attitude, "I was worried. Look,"
"And?" Justin stopped, his hand on the door. Brian and he looked at one another in the darkness of the porch. Clearing his throat, Brian spoke first. "Could you, can you come over here? Sit down?"
"What do you want Brian? I need to go shower."
Blanching at the comment, "What’s that supposed to mean."
Smiling, "I stink is all. It was hot and I got sweaty."
Recoiling as if slapped, "God Justin! Is that how you are? You gave it to him? Just like that?" Brian’s shocked face was a huge ping to Justin’s self esteem. Take that fucker! Hurts don’t it?
"Hmph. Shows what a good teacher you are. Setting such a fine example," Justin spat, storming off, slamming the door.
Justin didn’t wait to see if Brian came in. He was tired. His was sweaty but not from giving himself to Ben. After they kissed, feeling Ben’s hands on him, his breath...it was too much. Excusing himself he ran off again. Going to the boathouse, sitting on the docks watching the sunset. He was afraid to go back. Afraid again of what might happen. Afraid of losing another piece of his heart. But, he steeled himself. Tired of feeling like he did, day after day, he got up, talked himself into a better mood and frame of mind, determined to get over Brian. And, all of this.
As if there were any doubt, Lindsey took up the slack that Justin offered her on a plate. After the first morning, seeing Brian on crutches in the cafeteria struggling with his tray, she appeared at the step of Cabin 11 from here on out. Bright and early, perky and annoying as ever. She was like a bloodsucker now. Leeching herself to him. Like it was all part of her plan or something.
Not one to turn away the help she offered, even though he’d tried to make himself look as pitiful as possible to Justin (and it wasn’t even as if he’d tried), his fumbling with the crutches did nothing to sway the boy.
Just this morning, almost wiping out on the slick tile of the bathhouse, Justin caught Brian’s arm telling him, "Shouldn’t it be Jason helping you instead of Lindsey? I mean, he expertly handles your dick so well and all. Oh wait-they both suck your dick. Sorry, I forgot." Leaving Brian bracing himself against the wall, Justin defiantly strode out.
At mail call, Justin got a slip signaling a package. Walking into the mail room, he had no idea what he’d received. Opening the box, he saw the note. Shit, he’d forgotten! It was Brian’s birthday present. It was a Francesco Totti jersey. Signed. A Roma Soccer Club jersey of the star’s. With his signature.
Justin had called Mary, asking her to do this for him. Find it on eBay or something. Spare no expense - he’d pay her back as soon as he could. He’d wanted to do this for Brian, his friend. Knowing that Brian would freak out...loving Francesco Totti- his idol.
Crumpling the note and throwing it into the trash, the clerk called to him, asking to courier another package to his cabin. A package for Brian. Begrudgingly, he carried his box and Brian’s with him to the cabin, denying the urge to kick Brian’s all the way there. Opening up the wall locker, he shoved it under one of his suitcases...burying it for now and placing Brian’s box on his bed. All this, for Brian’s birthday which was next week. The dance was also next week. And, after that, two more weeks of camp. Who knows what comes next.
Sitting down on his bed, he stared up at the springs of the mattress above him. Yay, counting springs again. He’d calculated that in the cabin, there were 2500 ceiling tiles above them. Good thoughts. Keeping the brain active, is what is was- not reducing yourself to stupid shit to block out the obvious pain in your heart. About this time, Brian came limping and crutching in. Throwing a bag on the bed, he placed his crutches against the wall, lying down. Sweat beaded his face and his hair stuck to his forehead. His legs were red from exertion and his Tshirt soaked as well. It fucking sucked to gimp around in the dead of summer!
Reaching over to the bag, he pulled out a few books he’d collected from the library. Obviously Brian was trying to keep his brain active as well. He was willing to read just about anything to stave off his errant mind workings couped up in the cabin all day. Fighting off Jason’s daily visits, Brian grew tired of it all. He just wished Justin would talk to him. Give him a chance but Justin walked the other way when he saw Brian and said very little when addressed. Even today, after a recount, there were still 2500 ceiling tiles above them.
The tables had turned between them. Justin flayed him without a moment’s notice. Cutting deep as if he was afraid Brian would strike first. Gone was the timid and tongue tied boy with glasses. Afraid of the dark, easily shocked by anything Brian did and said. The Justin that had mourned for the loss of his first love, clinging to the next. That Justin was gone to Brian. Noticing the box at the end of his bed, Brian sat up again, reaching down to grab it.
Looking over at Justin, "Did you get this for me?"
"Yeah, I was there so they asked me to bring it to you."
"Thanks. Really, I appreciate it," Brian smiled.
"Whatever."
"You got a package too? Anything good?"
"Not really. I’m going out."
"Justin, wait. Can we talk?"
Eyebrows up, waiting. "About what, Brian?"
Grabbing his pillow, hugging it to his chest, Brian stammered a couple of times before clearing his throat. "I’m sorry."
"Okay," Justin replied, walking away.
"Wait a minute! Doesn’t it matter that I’m sorry?"
"Fine, you’re sorry. Until the next time...I shoulda known," shaking his head, pulling at the strands of his bangs. "Brian, I don’t need this, okay? And, furthermore, I really don’t’ want to deal with this again."
"Again? I’m not Matthew. I’m not dead, I’m alive. I’m here, Justin."
Faintly smiling, Justin bucked up, tearing his eyes from Brian’s as they burned into him, really telling him that he was remorseful..."But, I’ve already committed you to memory. Only the good parts, though. I’ve no room for anything else."
Watching Justin’s back as it retreated out the cabin, Brian sat back against his pillow. Glancing at the box, labeled in his mother’s handwriting, he grimaced.
Ready to get it over with, he ripped open the paper, opening the box, careful not to let the stupid packing peanuts fly out. She methodically and carefully, almost lovingly wrapped up this box, much like the care she took uncorking her ever present, ever flowing bottles of wine. It was the blood of Christ you know, so no wonder she was careful. No, no alcohol abuse in the Kinney household. Only other, seedier forms, of abuse allowed.
If his mother took as much care cleaning the house, cooking a meal or washing his clothes, as she did with mailing a package, Brian would have three things less to bitch about. Inside the box was a tin of cookies. Butter cookies in the shape of the cross. Brian hated butter cookies and hated the fact that his mother sent him cookies in the shape of the crucifix. His mother squicked him out. There was also the rosary, a figurine of the Infant Jesus of Prague, as his parents were notified of his sprained ankle. A letter was also inside keeping Brian up-to-date on what was going on at home. Not that he’d cared one bit. Throwing the box down, he tried to take a nap.
Gathering the Infant Jesus in his hand, he flung it against the wall, smashing it to pieces. It hadn’t helped him…hadn’t watched over him as was the duties of the Patron Saint of Illnesses and Injury. Sprained ankle...heart broken...lovesick.
Trying fitfully to sleep in the noonday heat of the cabin, his mind wandered. Not wishing his life to get any more foul, he gathered up the pieces of the figurine and put them back in the box. Thinking he’d at least stave off eternal damnation, he grew tired. Almost asleep, he felt the bed shift and without opening his eyes, "Jason! Christ, I told you-"
Scoffing, "Jason?" Lindsey replied.
His eyes shooting open, Brian saw Lindsey sitting next to him on his bed. She looked up at him, reaching up to brush his sweaty bangs out of his face. "How are you feeling, sweetie?"
Flinching from her touch, "Lindsey, please. Don’t call me that! I told you not to call me that."
"Okay, sorry. So, how are you feeling? Oh, what’s this?" She asked, reaching down, grabbing for the box. Opening the tin, she pulled out a cookie. Smiling, she bit off part of the cookie. Waving around the half eaten cross, "Wow, these are good. I love butter cookies."
"Figures. Look, what do you want?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely," she replied, rolling her eyes. "The dance is next week."
"And?"
"We’re all going together, remember?"
"No, we’re not. I told you. Besides, Justin isn’t-"
"Yeah, I just saw Justin. He was going to the lake with Ben."
Biting his lip, "Whatever. You want to go to the dance?"
Laughing, reaching out to touch his arm, rubbing it, "You know I do. I’ll make it worth your while. I’m a sure thing, you know that."
Not that he’d wanted to go to the dance at all or anything, but he’d just imagined it differently. He imagined him catching up with Mikey and then taking off with Justin. Maybe going to the boathouse or finding some place to be alone. Just the two of them. He wanted them to be together…more together than what they’d been doing. Originally wanting Jason to be the one, then meeting Justin...Brian could only see himself, actually giving himself up, to Justin. No matter that they’d only known each other a short while. Not mattering that even though he knew Justin had already done it with Ben, he still wanted Justin to be the one. Wanted Justin...just him.
"I'll think about Lindsey, okay?"
"God. Don't make me wait too long Brian."
Now all that had gone to shit and once again Justin was with Ben. Brian had been committed to memory. Filed away. Fuck it. What’s done is done. A hand is just a hand, mouth’s a mouth. A hole should be a hole, right?
"I won't. Listen, can you tell Jason to come by? I want to return his book."
Rolling her eyes, huffing, "Fine. Yeah."
A few minutes, maybe fifteen, Jason waltzed in Cabin 11 coming to a stop near Brian's bed. "You asked for me?"
"Yeah. So...I'll meet you in our spot after the dance. Around midnight, okay?"
Leaning in, smiling, "I knew you'd come around. See you then," kissing him, holding his face, Jason smiled at Brian. Then he left, smiling. Brian wasn't.
Justin and Ben had gone out to the docks and Justin helped Ben batten down the boats. Finishing up, they walked a path that snaked the woods, holding hands out of the prying eyes of the camp. Leaning against a tree, Justin let Ben kiss him and fondle him. Letting his hands travel over his body, edging his Tshirt up to expose his stomach. Those firm hands gripped his hips, holding him close. Their kisses became frantic, rougher. For an instant, Justin forgot it was Ben that was kissing him, thinking it was Brian. Brian’s hands always clawed at him, touched him everywhere, the incessant need bringing their bodies closer together, touching. Shaking Brian’s face out of his head, Justin broke the kiss.
Gathering their breaths, Ben, smiling, "You’re a good kisser."
"For a kid, huh?"
"You’re not a kid, Justin."
Smiling, "Hey, I was thinking."
"Yeah?" Ben replied, smiling and then smacking his lips against Justin’s.
"After the dance, maybe we can go somewhere. Be alone."
Incredulous but deliriously happy, "Really?"
Shaking slightly. "Yeah, why not?"
Ben smiled even brighter then hugged Justin to him. Justin just looked outward, watching the trees, their branches swaying in the breeze of the oncoming storm.
Later that night in the cafeteria, as Lindsey and Brian were getting their food, Brian heard someone calling his name. Turning around, he came face to face with a waving and babbling Michael. A twenty pounds lighter Michael, that is.
Brian and Michael grabbed some food in the line and Lindsey smiled, waving to them both, apparently introductions were not coming any time too soon. Meandering their way in line, picking and choosing what wouldn’t kill them as the fare that was supposedly food grew more recognizable by the day in camp, Michael started.
"Wow! It’s so good to see you Brian. It’s been too long!" Michael exclaimed, reaching out to hug Brian.
Looking around frantically, keeping his friend at arm's length, "Yeah. So, how long can you stay tonight?"
"Tonight? I’m here for the rest of the summer. Yeah, Mom and Uncle Vic sprung me after I passed the last weight test. Look," Michael exclaimed, twirling around like a Miss America pagent reject, "I’ve lost 20 pounds. Can you tell?"
Snatching a pudding pack, Brian gazed upon his friend. "It’s gone from your middle but now settled at your ass. You finally have the ass you’re always wishing for. Good for you Mikey." As Michael grinned and pawed at his friend, Brian caught site of a flicker of blond hair, now platinum from the Pennsylvania sun, and glanced out into the sea of tables and chairs. There sat Justin, with Ben and Daphne, laughing and joking. Not a care in the world.
"Brian? Earth to Brian!"
Hearing his friend, "What? Yeah. So."
"You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? Who are you gawking at?"
Brian looked nonplussed at his friend, his hands shaking, fingers gripping the hard plastic tray as he limped along. Crutch under his arm, he made do.
"Let me get that for you, okay? God, what happened?"
Daring another glimpse, Brian’s eyes met with the ice blue ones and time stopped for that very minute. Justin, unnerved, suddenly shot up from his seat and walked away, leaving Brian staring after him once again. Ben and Daphne watched him go then drew their eyes in the general direction that the boy had been staring in. Seeing Brian, they shook their heads. Michael now noticing that his friend was blatantly tuning him out, glanced outward as well. Spying Ben, he squeed.
"Oh my God! There’s Ben! Man, he looks hot."
Jarred from his thoughts, "Yeah well, don’t even try it. He’s got a boyfriend. Totally ridiculous too. Some little snot that thinks he’s too good for all of us. God, what a princess that one is."
"Is it that guy you told me about? I thought there was something going on between you two and then I thought better. I mean, come on! Brian Kinney with a boyfriend. Get real? I don’t know why I made such a big deal out of it. Hm. If you were ever to have a boyfriend, I would be the first one to know it right? I mean, since it would be me."
Brian, drowing out Michael as best he could, shook his head in acknowledgement and then pushed them through to the drinks. Handing his tray over to Michael, Brian looked over at Mikey’s tray. Amidst the pizza were two pudding packs, lemon bars and two rolls. With butter.
"Uh, Mikey? You really think you should be eating all that junk right after you got out of fat camp?"
Looking around quickly as to make sure no one heard him, "Brian! Shut up. Jeez. Besides, this is fine. The counselors said eating this stuff was just fine in moderation."
"Moderation?"
"Yeah, moderation."
Eyes rolling, smirk in place, "Let’s go sit down. Don’t drop my tray either balancing all your moderation."
Limping and crutching to the table, Brian and Michael sat not too far away from Daphne and Ben’s table with Jason now sitting there too.
Catching Ben’s eye, Michael waved. "Don’t wave Michael. This isn’t an amusement park. Shit," Brian spat.
Gathering up their trays, Ben, Daphne and Jason now made their way over.
"Hey Brian," Jason drawled.
"Hey," Brian replied opening up his Coke, not looking up.
"Hi Ben! Remember me?"
Smiling, "Yes, Michael. Hello. How’s your summer?"
"Oh it’s great! I’m gonna be here for the rest of it. I can’t wait. Lots of catching up to do," Michael chattered happily.
Ben, looking not so happily smiled on. Brian caught sight and huffed a laugh. "Brian, what’s so funny?"
"Ah nothing. Just remembering something is all. So, Ben...keeping busy?"
Steeling himself for one of Brian’s tirades, Ben’s smile slightly faultered. "Actually yes, there’s so much to do you know?"
"I bet. Listen, since I know I’ll see you later tonight with your nightly visits to Cabin 11 and all, maybe we could discuss me playing again later this week?"
"I don’t know Brian, you seem kind of shakey to me. I watched you limp over and I don’t think it’s such a good idea. I covered your spot anyways and things are going okay."
"You covered my spot, huh?"
Michael, Daphne and Jason watched the volleys back and forth between Brian and Ben. Wondering who would be victor. Michael, on the other hand, had no idea what was going on and Jason, well Jason was just eating it up.
"Yeah Bruckner...you know that team sucks without your star player. Mark's not as good as Brian. And, Bri's healing quite well. I should know."
Perplexed, Michael asked,"Bri? Why's he calling you 'Bri', Brian?"
"Fuck off Jason!"
"Brian, what does he mean by that?"
"Yeah, it wasn’t really hard, actually. Someone came in ready, willing and able. And, better. Just like that."
"Ben!" Daphne exclaimed, understanding what was transpiring between the two and they sure as hell weren’t talking about soccer anymore.
"Well, if he’s so good then where’s he been? I mean, if he’s such an excellent replacement then where’s he been all this time?"
"Waiting I guess. For the right time. And, with you injuring yourself, he just popped right up. He’s actually quite adept and has proved to be a formidable player. The opposite of you."
"Wow, how fortunate."
"What are you guys talking about?" Michael inquired. Again.
"For some."
"We’ll see how fortunate *he* feels when I, "
"Brian, uh, listen."
Cut off by Daphne, Brian drew his eyes upward.
"I need some help tonight in the studio. It’s not much but I have a lot of brushes and pallets that need to be cleaned. You could sit by the sink when you do it?"
"Fine."
"Daph, I can help you out," Ben replied.
"No Ben, that’s fine. Brian can do it, can’t you Brian?"
"What about that fucking 'Cum Ba Ya' sing along we're supposed be having down by the lake?"
"Well, you can come afterwards."
"I'll help you Brian!"
"Er, no Michael. Since you just got here and I'm your counselor we'll have to go over a few things."
Looking nonplussed, Michael shook his head begrudgingly.
"Sure, no problem. I’m good for something, right?"
"But Brian, I thought we were gonna spend some time together?"
"Michael, shut up. You’re here now, right? We’ll have plenty of time. Fuck it, take my tray I’m leaving. I'll see you later at the lake." Brian got up, reaching for his crutch and limped off. Not before he knocked shoulders with Ben, giving him a patented death stare. Unnerved, Ben shrugged it off.
Michael, now alone with the counselors, felt the need for introductions. "Hi, I’m Michael!"
Smiling and shaking their heads, the group wandered off separately.
Outside, Jason caught up with Brian, "Hey."
"Leave me alone."
"If you don’t quit being a bitch I’m gonna think you don’t love me anymore," Jason cooed.
Spinning around as best he could, "I don’t love you! I don't love anybody! Got it?"
"Brian, I’m kidding. It’s a joke."
"It is a joke, isn’t it?"
"Wanna get together later?"
"I can’t. You heard Daphne, I gotta help her in that fucking pussy palace."
"Later then?"
"Maybe, come by."
"Okay, later."
Watching Jason trot off, Brian continued on to his cabin. Coming in he saw Justin lying on his bed reading a letter.
Struggling with his crutch, Brian almost tipped over while taking off his shirt. Wobbling, Justin reached out, holding onto Brian’s hip. His hand felt hot against Brian’s stomach, gripping so tightly. Looking down after wrenching the shirt from his neck, he saw Justin’s hand then gazed into his eyes.
"You were about to fall."
"I’m fine," Brian replied, dropping the shirt and reaching to his hip for Justin’s hand. Stilling his hand atop Justin’s, Brian’s thumb grazed his fingers. Justin’s eyes grew larger and he started to pull his hand away. Grabbing his wrist, Brian stood holding on. "Let me go," Justin replied.
Gripping tighter, "Are you sure?"
"Forget it Brian, it’s over. Why can't you just leave it alone? There's plenty of other guys around."
"Is that what you really want? Because, I gotta tell you,"
"Brian!" Michael shouted, flouncing into the cabin, making his way over to them.
Seeing their hands joined, Michael stopped. "Uh, am I interrupting something?"
Letting Justin’s wrist drop from his grasp, "No."
"Okay," Michael resumed his flouncing, crawling up atop Brian’s bunk. "Can I sleep here?"
"Who are you?" Justin asked.
"Michael. I’m Brian’s best friend. And you? Oh, wait a minute! I know who you are, you’re that rich priss."
Cutting his eyes at Brian, Justin huffed. "Oh, that’s right, now I remember Brian mentioning you. You were in Fat Camp, right?"
"Brian!"
Not able to contain himself, Brian chuffed a belly laugh. Great, two fucking drama queens. "Michael, you were in fat camp."
"Nice of you to announce it to everyone. What’d you tell him for?"
"Oh, there's lots I know. Brian's told me everything," Justin sarcastically replied.
"Not more than me. Me and Brian are like this, " Michael smiled, crossing his fingers and shoving said fingers in Justin’s face.
"I doubt it."
Nipping all the drama in the bud, “Michael, you need to go ask Deb for your sheets and shit and if you even think of putting on those stupid Captain America ones...you’ll be sleeping outside. Outside with the bears and snakes."
"There’s snakes here?"
Rolling his eyes, adding in the most put upon look ever, "For fuck’s sake Mikey. Take the top bunk."
"Okay, when will you be back?"
"Later, whenever Daphne says I can leave the fucking finger painting playground. I said I'd meet you at the lake thing."
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Justin asked, throwing his sketchbook aside.
"He has to help Daphne in the studio," Michael interrupted.
"Huh? What?"
"Are you deaf? I said,"
"Michael! Shut up. I have to help Daphne with some stuff," Brian replied, pulling on a Tshirt.
"Ugh! What the...never fucking mind. Fucking goddamn!" rolling his eyes, Justin got up from the bed, smoothing down his shirt.
Not able to ignore the queen out, Brian’s curiousity got the better of him. "What’s the big deal?"
"Nothing. It’s not a big deal. She just asked me to help her too."
"You’re acting like it’s a big deal."
"It’s just that..."
"What?"
"Yeah, what?"
"Michael! Butt out!"
"Yes, please."
"Justin."
Glancing back to face Justin, Brian arched his eyebrows, hand on hip waiting for an explanation.
"It’s nothing. But, she asked me to do it too."
"Do what?"
"Clean out the studio and stuff."
"And?"
"And I didn’t know that you were gonna do it to. It was supposed to me, her and Ben."
"Oh, I see. So, that would mean I would be interrupting a lovers rendezvous?"
"It’s not a rendezvous!"
"What’s a rendezvous?"
In unison, "Michael!"
"So, it’s not?"
"No."
"Alright then."
"Yeah, alright."
"Great."
"Superb."
Perched atop the bunk, Michael watched the two. Both of them stood face to face, inches apart, staring at one another. Clearing his throat, Michael spoke, "Well, I guess I’ll go get my stuff."
The two boys never broke eye contact or seemed to have heard Michael’s voice. Used to being ignored, "Well, okay then. I’m going." Jumping down, he passed between them, leaning over more into Justin’s space than Brian’s. Being pushed, Justin stepped backwards, and Brian reached out to steady him.
"Well, we might as well get going. Wouldn’t hurt to walk there together, right?"
"I wouldn’t think so. I can handle it if you can," Brian smiled.
When Michael walked into his mother’s cabin, she was on the phone. Smiling at her, he went over to the linen cabinet, drawing sheets, blanket and a pillow from the shelves. Picking up his bag and toiletries, he waited patiently.
His Uncle Vic wasn’t back from the docks yet and it was almost dark. Michael wanted to get settled quickly and take a shower and wait for Brian. He’d missed him so much. They’d exchanged letters but lately Brian was lacking in his. His letters had taken on a completely different tone. At the beginning of the summer, Brian was very brief in his letters. Only answering Michael’s questions and bitching about what all went on here. Then, a short while later, Brian’s letters took on a different tone from those. Very descriptive, long and drawn out, and no bitching. Dare he say it but Michael thought Brian seemed happy. And, there was a mention of this kid Justin in every one of them. 'Justin this' and 'Justin that.' Not that the mentions were anything magnanimous...but that fucking kid had a supporting role in every single letter Michael got. Even when Michael had inquired as to what was going on between them, if anything, Brian blanched but never stopped mentioning the other boy's name.
Debbie now off the phone, she shuffled over to Mikey, giving him her famous death squeeze hug and cheek squeeze. "Let me look at you! My baby boy."
"Ma!"
"What? Don’t give me that! I haven’t seen you in over a month! You look good baby! Turn around," Debbie smiled, twirling her painted nails at Michael.
"Ma! I gotta go get settled. Brian’ll be back soon."
"And where is that little shit?"
"Oh, he had to go do something for one of the counselors. Daphne sent him to the studio with that Justin kid."
"Really? Hm."
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Okay, run along. I’ll see you at breakfast. Oh, Vic is making a special menu for you. Low carbs."
"MA! You can’t do that!"
"Oh the hell I can’t. I just shelled out $1500 for you to lose that weight. And, you’re not putting it back on! Now go."
"Ugh. Well, can you at least not talk to me when I’m around the other kids?"
"Michael, how dare you say that! Do you want to give me a heart attack? I’ll have you know, I’m one of the reasons these kids come to this camp. Too bad you can’t be appreciative of me as your mother. These kids are…at least for the two months they’re here."
Realizing he’d hurt his mother’s feelings, "Ma, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just,"
"I know what you meant. Now go."
Hugging, Debbie smiled at her son. "Michael?"
"Yeah ma?"
"Don’t be interfering with Brian."
"Interfering with what?"
Taking in the innocence of her son’s face and not wanting to dash his hopes as was not her place. "Nevermind, honey. See you tomorrow." It was Brian’s place to do it and as much as it hurt her to say it, she hoped that he’d do it soon.
As Michael scurried along with his stuff, Debbie called after him, holding his Captain America sheets. "Michael! I brought your sheets. Come back you little shit!"
Along the path to the studio, the boys walked along in silence. Every once in a while, Justin reached up to steady Brian by grabbing onto his arm when he looked like he was having trouble maneuvering. A smile or a soft, "Thanks,"was given in reply.
Rounding the corner towards the studio, Justin heard someone shouting his name. Stopping, they both turned around and saw Ben approaching. Jogging up, Ben smiled and stood alongside them. "Hey," he laughed, catching his breath. Seems that he’d sprint up the hill in a hurry for some reason.
"Hey," Justin answered back.
"Well hello Brian. How are you? Fine, thanks. Nice weather," Brian parroted to the boys in an annoying, grating voice he'd taken up with recently.
Ben, "Brian," nodding his head.
"Uh Justin, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Ben, we gotta go. There’s a shitload of brushes and pallets to clean before we can be done."
"I know, it’ll just take a second."
Exasperated, "It's not like you won't see your siamese at the sing along later...Ah, young love. Whatever. It leaves such a wretched taste in my mouth."
"No, that wretched taste would be Jason."
Ouch. Cheeky smile, " I’ll meet you inside Justin."
When Brian was inside, Justin turned to Ben. "What’s up?"
Sidling up, "I just missed you." Reaching for Justin’s hand, Ben twined their fingers, leaning down to kiss Justin. Turning his head suddenly, Ben’s lips grazed Justin’s cheek. Pulling back, Ben stared down into Justin’s eyes that were averted from his. "Is there something wrong?"
"No, not at all. Just gotta go."
"Okay, but give me a kiss first."
"Okay."
Leaning against Ben, standing on his toes, Justin grabbed ahold of Ben’s bicep as Ben reached around to pull Justin to him. Softly at first, their lips touched. Pushing out his tongue, Ben tried to gain entrance that wasn’t forthcoming. Shutting his eyes, Justin tentatively opened his mouth. As Ben’s tongue touched the tip of Justin’s they were both startled by a sudden crash from inside the studio. Whipping his head towards the sound, "I gotta go see if he’s okay."
Not releasing Justin from his side, "Justin, he’s a big boy. Now where were we?"
Pushing off, "Ben! Jesus! Cut it out, alright? What if he’s hurt or what if something broke?"
Shaking his head, realizing this was all just a little too much. And, futile, Ben relented. "Fine. Go."
"Okay, see you later," Justin replied, already up the steps. Ben watched him as the boy hurried in, calling out Brian’s name. Taking leave, Ben knew he was running out of time. He needed to go see Jason.
Inside the studio, Brian pushed back from the window before Justin came back in. Knocking over that easel had done the trick. Leaning against a table, Brian waited and looked at the floor. Pictures of him strewn about. Charcoals of him…from the bus. From inside the cabin. From the soccer field. From inside the boathouse. All pictures of him…drawn by Justin. When Justin came running in, seeing Brian propped up against the table, the easel on the floor and his crutch tossed aside, Justin began to worry. "Are you okay? What happened?" Looking down towards the floor, he saw all his pictures lying there. Hurriedly he tried to snatch them up, afraid to look at Brian’s face.
"Those are good, Justin."
"They’re nothing."
Squaring his jaw, Brian was hurt and insulted. Were they nothing because they were of Brian? Nice.
"So, are you okay?"
Clearing his throat, "I bumped into the fucking easel. Goddamn crutches!" Slapping his hands down on the table, Brian feigned frustration. Not that it was completely fake, he was frustrated alright. But frustrated that he’d have gone to these lengths to get Justin back.
Moving closer to Brian, Justin reached down, retrieving his crutch and bringing it forward. Turning Brian aside, face to face so that he could help him move towards the sink, Justin could smell him. Smell that smell that lulled him to sleep at night. The eyes that stared into him, that brooding face, red lips…all those things that tormented him. "Let’s get started, okay?"
They both moved over to the sink, throwing all the brushes in. Reaching for the turpentine, Justin bumped into Brian who had apparently moved closer when he wasn’t looking. Inches apart, their hands washed away the paint from the brushes, the water cascading down, all the colors swimming away down the drain. After an hour or so, Brian realized that Daphne never showed up.
"Where the fuck is Daphne?"
"She’s not coming."
"Ah."
"Is it really so bad? I mean, just the two of us?"
Stilling his hands under the warm water, Brian looked over at Justin. "That’s not what I meant. I just meant,"
"I know what you mean."
"Justin, listen..."
"Brian, look. I’m okay. We’re okay. It was nothing, really. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything. Besides, I’m with Ben now."
"Will you just listen to me? I mean, it’s not like I have all the answers or anything. I just know that I fucked up and I wish I didn’t."
"But you did."
"And that’s it? You’ll never forgive me? You can just turn it on and off for me?"
"And the next time Brian? What about the next time?"
Reaching up to turn off the water, Brian grabbed a towel, drying off his hands. Handing it to Justin, he moved them over to a table, sitting them down. When Justin finished drying his hands, Brian reached for the towel but twined their hands together. Justin tried to pull his hands away, "Justin. Stop."
Unable to look at him, Justin stared at the floor.
"What happened?" Brian winced remembering, then continued, "I can’t change that. I can tell you that I’m sorry and that I didn’t mean for it to happen."
"But it did and there’s no turning back. It’s too late now."
Moving closer, Brian reached out, pulling Justin to him by the nape of his neck so that they were now forehead to forehead. Tentatively, Brian moved his face, aligning their lips together, cocking his head. Opening his mouth, his tongue poked out, licking Justin's lips. When Justin did pull away, Brian wrapped his arm around Justin's back, pulling his body closer. Full on, Brian smashed his mouth against Justin's. A good thirty seconds of tonguing later, Justin pushed away.
"I like the way you taste," Brian rasped.
"So does Ben."
"That’s fucked Justin."
"That’s the way it is Brian. It doesn’t matter how much I care about you…I have to care about myself now."
"You think Ben won't hurt you?"
Justin stormed off at hearing that, jogging down to the lake, leaving Brian alone. Later, as Brian hobbled down to the beach, he joined Michael around the campfire. Justin happened to be sitting directly across from him and all during the suckass, lame songs and stupid ghost stories, their eyes watched each other through the flame.
The next day, the day before the dance, Lindsey cornered Brian.
"Brian, come on! You promised."
"You come on Lindsey, shit! My friend Michael’s here, you know that. I have to spend time with him."
"What’s the big deal? He can’t spend time alone? Before it was always Justin and now it’s Michael. What are you queer?"
"Shut your fucking mouth Lindsey before I tell everyone what a slut you are!"
"What’s up your ass? Look, I told you...I’ve got some pot and more whiskey. It’s all planned out-me and Susan and you and your friend Justin can sneak away to the boat house and have our own private party."
"Justin and Susan are going together? They’re gonna be there?"
"She already talked to him today. It's all set."
*WINS* "Well, okay then."
After Justin finally got away from Susan he had to meet up with Ben to advise him of the change of plans. When Susan approached him he balked at first, then realizing that it would just be the four of them...four including Brian, he relented. He was full of mixed signals and truly, Ben was starting to suffocate him. So, getting the chance to see Brian, in a quiet setting, he would rather do that, he thought. Maybe they could talk...Brian really seemed like he was sorry...really seemed like it would be different this time. Maybe.
Finding Ben at the soccer field, gathering the errant soccer balls up, throwing them into the net bag and chatting it up with a few of the stragglers while he did so, Justin called to him.
Hearing his name, Ben spun in the direction of the voice and saw Justin walking towards him. "Mark, that’s enough for the night. You guys go on."
"Okay Ben. Thanks again," Mark said, waving his friends in. Seeing Justin approaching, "Hey Taylor, wanna suck me off?"
"Fuck off Wilson!"
"Oh, such nasty language for a little cocksucker!"
"Mark, get going," Ben shouted sternly.
"We’ll continue this later you little asshole."
"I bet you like little assholes," Justin smirked as they passed.
Stopping at the net, Justin looked back over his shoulder, hearing Mark and his buddies laughing. Feeling Ben’s hand on his shoulder he flinched. "Justin, what’s wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Don’t worry about those guys. They’re harmless."
"Right."
"So, what’s up? I’m glad to see you. I was gonna come by later."
"Yeah, about that...listen Ben, don’t take this the wrong way but maybe it’s better if you don’t come by so much. People are kinda starting to talk."
"People? Or Brian?"
"Jesus, leave it alone would you? This whole ‘He Man Competition’ thing between you two is really working my last nerve.
"Is there a competition?"
"It sure seems like there is. You tell me."
"Should I be worried?"
"About Brian and me?"
Receiving a nod in response, "Well, don’t worry about it."
"Well, you two looked pretty cozy in the studio."
"What? What’d you spy on us or something?"
"No more than what Brian did when he knocked over that easel."
"He stumbled! He’s on crutches for Christ’s sake! He’s not too agile right now."
"Oh, he’s agile."
"Just stop okay. You’re supposed to be older and not acting all stupid like you are."
"But, it’s okay for Brian, right?"
"Ben."
"Alright, alright. So, anyways...what’s up?"
"I’m going to the dance with Susan so I can’t meet you afterwards."
"Oh."
"Yeah, so."
"So, what does that mean exactly."
"It means that I’ll be with Susan."
"And who else?"
Well, I guess Lindsey...and Brian. But, I’m not too sure about that though."
"Uh huh."
"Don’t be mad, Ben."
"I’m not mad. I just thought that you wanted to be together is all."
"I do want to be with you."
"I mean, ‘together’ together."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well, we still have a week after the dance. I’m sure we can find another time."
"Sure."
"What? Is that all you’re worried about? Me putting out?"
"No, of course not."
"Then what’s with the attitude? I mean, you see me everyday. You come by every night. You stop by whenever you can."
"Is there a problem?"
"Well, it’s starting to feel like you’re pissing on me."
"What!"
"You know, like marking your territory or something."
"That’s not what I’m doing. I’m trying to show you that I like you...that I care about you."
"Well."
"Didn’t Brian do that?"
"No."
"Yeah, I didn’t think so."
"Hey, Brian did lots of things but at least he didn’t..."