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NO EXCUSES, NO APOLOGIES, NO REGRETS Thanks to my betas - Hastings, Connie & Lois and my buddies - Jewel, Kelly, PP and JULE
BRIAN When I wake up the next morning, I'm alone. Justin's side of the bed is empty; not slept in. I race my fingers through my hair and attempt to massage my throbbing skull. My head is fucking pounding. Shit! Why do I drink so much? I can't believe how fast these memories... nightmares are coming back to me. Sitting up, I notice the time - 10 am. I must've slept through the fucking alarm too. Shit. Did I even set that thing last night? I walk into the bathroom, take a piss. In the kitchen, I pull out a bottle of Evian and put the coffee on. The answering machine is blinking and the only reason I press 'play' is just in case Justin called last night to let me know he was alright. Beep: "Brian, it's Michael. Are you ok? I just called you at work and Cynthia said you hadn't shown up yet. Anyway, thanks for inviting Ben and I over last night. You should come over sometime when Ben makes Thai or something. Oh shit. One more thing. Justin was supposed to meet me this morning to discuss a few ideas before his class but he never showed. If you get this message before he does, get him to call me, will you? His stupid cell is turned off or something! Give me a call me later." I gulp down the water and press delete. Message 2 - Beep: "Brian, it's Cynthia. Are you coming in today? Vance stopped by to see you. Call me and let me know what the hell's going on! And turn on your cell!" The final message is from none other that my mother: "Brian, this is your mother. Um... I think we need to talk. Can you stop by sometime?" I want to toss the stupid thing against a wall. Why the fuck is she calling me? Especially after months of fucking avoiding me...I don't think I have the energy to throw things or even think too much right now. Picking up the cordless, I dial Justin's cell. After a couple rings, I get his voicemail but I don't leave a message. I decide to call in sick and return to my warm bed, crawl under the duvet. I should catch up on some much needed sleep... because when Justin returns later, I want to be well rested. The little fucker is going to get a piece of my mind! JUSTIN I wake up to an unfamiliar ceiling. Being in this old room has a nostalgic feeling. It's so weird. There's a desk against the wall, very similar to the one I once had... in my old room. This one doesn't have a chip though... not like mine. I had come home from school... the first day I'd been called a big queer... I was so upset, I picked up the first thing my hand landed on - a paperweight - and I threw it in frustration. It hit the edge of the desk and chipped it. Strange, the things I remember sometimes. I run my finger against the smooth wooden edge, my thoughts shifting to something, or rather, someone more important. Brian. I should've called him last night to let him know I wasn't coming home. I needed to get away from him and the only place I felt I could turn to... and be safe... was my mother's. She was still up at midnight, having just returned from another one of her dates. I'm not sure I approve, but I understand her need for companionship. It must be hard, raising a teenager and not having a social life otherwise. I'm sorta glad she's picking herself up and moving on. There's no hope for a reconciliation between she and dad. I know that. I understand it and I don't blame myself anymore. We sat and had hot chocolate in silence. She didn't want to pry and I wasn't ready to start complaining to her about Brian. I don't think I could ever do that, not with knowing their history and all. It's after 10 now. I was supposed to meet Michael at 9. Fuck. I'll never hear the end of this. I check my messages but there are none. Guess Brian didn't have the decency to call. Or just doesn't care where the fuck I end up... I could be dead now for all he knows! I try not to be too pissed, take a quick shower and get dressed. Mom's already left for work but I have a key so I lock up. I have class at 12:10 so I grab some breakfast and head down to PIFA. I'm sitting under a tree chomping on an apple and reading my European History book when I feel a pair of eyes on me. Looking up, my eyes connect with a pair of unfamiliar ones. He's sitting about 10 feet away from me. I smile politely and he grins. He's cute, but not really my type. Plus, my gaydar just isn't going wild. That can never be a good thing. Before I know it, he's standing in front of me. "Justin, right?" he asks with a huge grin. I raise a brow as I stare up at his lean frame. "How'd you...?" "I'm in your Modern Art class," he replies. "Mind if I join you?" He doesn't wait for confirmation, plops himself next to me. "I'm Connor, by the way," he says. "Connor Sullivan. My friends call me Sully." We shake hands and I can't help but notice how firm his handshake is. His eyes are the strangest colour and he has wild brown hair. "I hope I'm not bugging you," he says, motioning to my book. I close the book and face him. "I wasn't really absorbing anything anyway." I screw up my face and he laughs. "You keep to yourself in class," he remarks. "I thought you'd have told me to fuck off if I tried to talk to you." It's my turn to laugh now. "Sorry. I just... don't mingle much, I guess." He chews on his thumb nail as he looks at me. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah." He's just about to say something when my cell rings. I smile apologetically before answering. "You stood me up this morning!" It's Michael. Great. Just what I need. "Oh, sorry about that," I say. "I totally forgot." "How could you forget? This means a lot to me, Justin!" Connor's looking away from me so I get a look at his profile. He isn't a bad looking guy. A little on the skinny side though. Returning to Michael, I say, "It means a lot to me too. I just woke up late this morning." He grumbles on the other end. "Whatever. Have you heard from Brian?" "No," I say quickly. "Can you stop by tonight? We could get some work done." I sigh. "I'm not so sure..." "Justin!" "Ok. I'll come by the store tonight. How's five sound?" "Good!" I hang up and Connor smiles at me. "Girlfriend checking up on you?" I snort. If he only knew. "Nope, a friend. I'm sorta... well, WE are doing this comic book together." "A comic book?" his eyes light up. "Really?" I nod. "It's called Rage." He ponders for a moment before concluding, "Never heard of it." "It's only been out a few months, still pretty new." "I'd like to see what you have sometime. I'm a total comic geek!" Sheesh. He and Michael could be soulmates. "I'll bring you a copy on Monday," I promise. He smiles then looks at his watch. "Fuck! I'm late for a tutorial!" He scrambles to his feet. "I guess I'll see ya around?" I nod and he waves goodbye. I watch him walk away and I can't help but feel a little glad that I met him. For a few brief moments, he made me forget all of my troubles. I'm tempted to call Brian. To tell him I'm sorry for pushing and he can tell me what it is he's hiding whenever he's ready. I should trust him. But... we're partners. He should want to tell me. Shouldn't he? I know he's always trying to protect me. But, I don't always need protection. I'm scared for us. Terrified even. BRIAN When I hear the door open, I keep my eyes fixed on my computer screen. I want to turn around and scream at him but I won't let him know how I feel. Let him think I don't fucking give a shit. I hear the fridge door slam and then the bedroom steps creak. A few minutes later, he's standing beside my desk, waiting for me to acknowledge his presence. "Brian." I put a hand up to silence him, pretend I'm in the middle of something important and then turn to look at him. I keep my emotions in check, as always; my eyes deadpan. "I think we need to talk," he says. "Talk?" I snort. "About what?" "You know what." I squelch the desire to slam my fist against my desk and grit out, "If I knew what the fuck you wanted to talk about, *Sunshine,* I wouldn't be asking you, now would I?" He swallows. "About last night-" "Last night?" I repeat. "You mean when you walked out of here like the selfish little fuck you are? Where did you spend the night, Justin?" "That's not important," he snaps. I'm on my feet in moments, towering over him. I've got his chin in a tight hold between my fingers. "Not important?" I ask. "The fact that some guy had his dick up your ass isn't important?" He pushes my hand away from his face and glares at me as he rubs the sting from his chin. "I wasn't out fucking, Brian," he spits out. "I'm not like you." The way he says it annoys the hell out of me. He's obviously itching for a fight. I'm all for it too. "So where the fuck were you?" I ask. He shrugs. "At my mom's." I can't help but laugh. "Run home to mommy did you?" His eyes narrow at my mocking tone. "She must have filled your head with more nonsense about how I'm not *good enough* for her little boy," I continue, trying to annoy him as much as I can. "How I'll only hurt you and never love you." I lean close and whisper, "And you knew didn't you? Knew that your mother was right about me. Mothers always are." He pushes my face away and turns to walk away but I pull him back. "Don't you fucking dare walk away from me." "Fuck you, Brian!" he shouts. "Is that all you can come up with?" I taunt. "What's the matter? What's wrong with your filthy little mouth now?" "You are such an asshole!" He struggles to loosen my hold on his wrist. "And yet you keep coming back." He stops and stares at me. "Is that it then? You want me to leave? And never come back?" Shit. "You want me out of your life? Say the words, Brian, and I'm gone." My heart feels as though its stopped. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to cave under pressure and give in. I pull him into my arms and hug him to me tightly. His entire body is shaking and within seconds, I can feel wetness against my skin. "Justin." I hate it when he fucking cries. It scares the hell out of me because I know him - he only cries when something really upsets him. When I fuck up and hurt him... tell him shit like I don't believe in love... bail on our vacation plans without an explanation... tell him he means nothing to me. He tries to wipe them away quickly but breaks down into a fresh set. "Justin." I stroke his arm as I hold him, hoping he'll stop soon. "Let me go, Brian," he murmurs and tries to get out of my grasp. "No," I say firmly. "You aren't fucking leaving me." He looks up at me, baby blue eyes shining. "I was just gonna go in the bathroom and clean up." Fuck. I hate when I say something sweet unnecessarily. "Oh." He smiles and places his head against my chest so I can wrap my arms around him again. I know what's coming already and I dread it with all of my being. It's time I share my past with my future... because that's what Justin is. My future. If he and I are to move forward, we need to get past... the past.
05/02/03
Banner courtesy ANDREA!!!
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