NO EXCUSES, NO APOLOGIES, NO REGRETS
Part 17 - Push Me, Pull Me

BRIAN

I don't care. I don't fucking care that it's after 11pm and the stupid twat is still not here as planned. I don't care that he's out with two idiotic fags who can drink me under the table and who can name a drug for nearly every letter of the goddamn alphabet. Nope. I don't give a shit.

I look down at the computer screen again... I've been doing a lot of that for the past couple hours. I can't seem to get anything done. I feel like shit.

I try Justin's phone again, but the stupid thing is turned off. What's the point of having a fucking mobile if all you do is turn it off? I'm going to fucking tear him a new asshole when he gets home for pulling this stunt.

I'm pissed at myself too, for caring as much as I do. I shouldn't give two shits. So what if he wants to spend his birthday doing God knows what with God knows who? It's his fucking business. Just like I always tell him. But... fuck it! It isn't like him to just not show up... especially when he made plans with me. And *I* should come first, dammit.

I uncap a bottle of beer and take a huge gulp. Leaning back in my chair, I roll my neck from side to side to ease the knot out. It doesn't really help.

Staring at the computer screen, I sigh and switch it off. I'm getting nothing done. I might as well get dressed and get the fuck out of here. I'm not going to just sit and wait around like a fucking concerned husband. Fuck that shit. I am not his keeper. And he isn't mine. When he gets home... he can think whatever he wants. Who knows? It may just be the truth.

If he decides to come home, let him fucking know what I'm out doing!

But still, I wonder.

Is he drunk and passed out in Felix's hotel room?
Has he forgotten about me, now that his ex is back in town?
Does he know... somehow...  subconsciously... that I've screwed up?

I snort in disgust and get up, make my way to the bedroom where I slip into a sleeveless white tee.

He can't know. There's no way in hell. I grit my teeth when I realize what I'm doing. Who the fuck cares if I fucked someone in my loft? In my bed? It's none of his goddamn business. Whether he likes it or not, I'm still ME and I'm not changing for anyone. He's already put his fucking rules on me and I've kept every single one. Unlike him...

Sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on my shoes - I've gotten into this nasty habit of not wearing socks - I try to forget how horrible my day has been. It's all her fucking fault. My mother. She always gets to me. All she needs are her cruel words. Even as a child, her words did more damage to me than a slap across the face.

The phone rings dragging me out of my disturbing thoughts. I snatch the receiver off the hook.

"Justin?"

"Brian?" It's Mikey. "Brian... something's happened."

"What? What is it?"

"It's Vic... He..."

"I'll be right there."

JUSTIN

My head feels as if it's been split in half. I've never felt so horrible in all of my life. Sitting up slowly, I realize I'm in Felix's hotel bed... alone, thank God.

Getting up, I make it to the bathroom just in time to lean over the toilet and throw up the contents of last night. I don't know how long I sit on the floor retching and making awful gagging sounds. The next thing I know, Felix is making me stand up and pushing me towards the shower.

"Why don't you take a shower?" he suggests. "I'll make us some coffee."

I clutch his arm. "What... happened?"

He eases out of my grip. "Have a shower, luv. You'll feel better."

Under the warm water, I try not to cry. I shed enough tears yesterday. For a brief moment I forgot... but now, I remember again. I surprise myself by staying strong and making it out of the room without a sob escaping. And I actually do feel better. Refreshed, but still fucking awful. Worried too... that I might have done something stupid.

Felix has already set me a plate with a slice of toast and a cup of black coffee.

"Sit," he commands and I find myself on the chair quickly.

He sits opposites me, a small smile on his face. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," I reply immediately. I lift the coffee cup and take a sip, the hot liquid burning my tongue. "Ugh, it's bitter."

He laughs.

I set the cup back down and watch him, uneasily. "So... did we..." My throat feels constricted all of a sudden. Shit. Say it, Justin. I try to encourage myself. "Did we..."

"Have sex?" he offers, his navy eyes intense against my own.

I cringe and nod.

He laughs. "You mean you don't remember?"

I crack a smile.

"Rest easy, we didn't."

I sigh, relieved.

"Which you can thank ME for," he adds with a serious look. "I had to stop you in your tracks and remind you that I don't play second fiddle to anyone. Especially Brian."

His tone is firm and no-nonsense; I can't blame him. I know I was incredibly drunk last night. And I do remember kissing him... and then begging him to fuck me. Or something like that. I cringe again at the thought.

Looking at my watch, I realize it's 2 in the afternoon! "Shit!" I jump up. "Is that the time?"

"Where are you going?" Felix asks, following me as I race around the room in search of my jacket.

I find it below the bed and put it on. "Home."

He stops me with a hand against my chest. "Is that such a good idea? After yesterday..."

"I have to face him," I tell him.

"You don't have to do anything!" he angrily spits out.

"Felix. Please."

He sighs. "What is it about him that makes you so fucking blind? You turn into this daft, silly cow over him and I just don't get it. He's a bloody prick and the sooner you see that - "

"Please don't do this," I plead. "I can't have this conversation right now."

He drops his hand and lets me walk away.

BRIAN

The door slides open and I find myself glancing at the clock on my computer almost automatically. 3pm.

Looking over my shoulder, I watch Justin uncap a bottle of Evian from the fridge.

"The lost boy returns," I say mockingly.

He gulps down some water. "It's not what you think."

I cock a brow. "I'm thinking it must have been a pretty wild night to keep you out way past your curfew." No comment, so I continue, "I'm thinking you need to be punished. No extra-curricular activities that doesn't involve my dick and your mouth for... let's say a week?" I grin when I hear his loud snort.

He mumbles something under his breath before walking towards the bedroom, but all I hear is, "I'm really tired."

Well, of course you are, Sunshine. If you were doing what I think you were doing, I can't blame you. Hell, I'd be looking ten times worse than you do right about now. And you look like shit, that part is obvious.

"Don't I get a kiss hello?" I call out as he passes me.

He ignores me and I return my attention to the screen in front of me, trying to concentrate on other things. After five minutes, I realize it's a losing battle and give up.

"Vic's in the hospital," I say as I walk into the bedroom, carrying my scotch glass with me. I take a sip and rest it on the counter.

It's then I notice what he's doing. Packing. The closet is open wide and he's already removed stuff from the hangers.

I swallow and try to put up a brave front. But, this is Justin being unpredictable. I fucking hate it when anyone is unpredictable. I don't have time to prepare and I'm left... vulnerable. Fucking vulnerable.

"What are you doing?" I say carefully, trying to act as if this is normal behaviour on his part. I pluck the shirt that he's about to stuff into his knapsack out of his hand. "You going on a trip and didn't tell me?"

"What happened with Vic?" he tosses over his shoulder as he stuffs his underwear into a black duffel bag. "Is he ok?"

"He's still at the hospital," I reply nonchalantly. "But, Michael told me things look better. He just had a scare." Kind of like what I'm having here.

"That's a relief."

Not really. It was the first of many to come. It's all downhill from here. I know it. Mikey knows it. Deb refuses to believe it. I wonder if Justin even gives two fucks. He doesn't seem to be paying much attention to anything but his goddamn packing. I lift up a pair of his white underwear. I wish the kid would get a fucking fashion clue. "Do you really want to leave the house wearing these old things?" He doesn't even crack a smile. I snort and toss the underwear back into the bag. "So, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

I lean against the frame and cross my arms over my chest. "Looks to me like someone's come to their senses." He looks at me quickly and I smirk. "Although, I'm not so sure even the Salvation Army would want your Old Navy hand me downs."

My comment earns me a small smile. "I'm going to stay at my mom's for a few days," he explains choosing to ignore my sarcasm and respond with a smart remark of his own.

"I see."

He sneaks a look in my direction finally, sees the anger there and immediately returns to his chore.

"Is mommy missing her *widdle* Sunshine?" I mock.

He shrugs.

"Or is *widdle* Sunshine running to mommy because he fucked up?"

His blue eyes lock onto mine, narrowing.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asks coldly.

I shrug. "A simple question, don't you think?"

"Don't you trust me?"

Not as far as I can throw you, dear boy. "No need to go on the defensive. Unless..."

He snorts. "Who's being defensive? I've done nothing wrong."

I believe you. Sure, I do. "So, what is all this?" I motion to his bags. "Mommy's is the last place you want to be. I know that; you know it too."

His eyes never leave mine.

Finally, I get bored of the mind stare game and turn to leave. "Do whatever the fuck you want."

I don't get very far before he shouts, "I saw you," at my retreating back.

I look back at him. "Of course you see me. I'm standing right in front of you. What's your fucking point?"

His eyes narrow until they're barely open. "I saw you, Brian. You and your **friends** in our bed... I came home to celebrate my birthday with you... but, you were already having a good enough time for both of us!"

Fuck. "You weren't meant to see that."

"Obviously not!" He angrily throws the jacket he's holding on the bed. "What kind of fucking excuse is that?"

"I don't need to **excuse** anything," I snap. "It's my fucking loft. I can do whatever the fuck I want in it. If I want to fuck half of Babylon here, there's nothing to stop me. What the fuck does that have to do with you?"

His glare is hot. "I thought we had an arrangement?"

"Hey," I raise my hands as if surrendering. "When you leave to go out with your fucking ex to do God knows what, I have the option of calling in a few of my... exes. Besides, I don't recall breaking any of your goddamn rules. You take first prize there, pal."

"You fucking bastard!" he mutters.

"If you're going to start the name calling, I have a few names I'd like to toss your way."

"Fuck off, Brian!"

I laugh mockingly. "You'd like me to do that, wouldn't you? So you can run back to your sugar daddy."

"Watch me!" he breathes out huskily. "I just might."

I grit my teeth and stomp over to where he's standing, hold him tightly by his shoulders. "Did you fuck him?" I need to know.

He sneers. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Answer me!" I shake him.

"What do you want to hear?" he hotly responds. "That while you were here fucking ass, I was getting mine sucked and licked and... fucked," he moans the last couple words, making it hit home even further.

I can't take it. I snap. I know he's doing it to fuck with my head, but I react. I shove him against the wall, my hand pulled back, ready to connect with his insolent, pale cheek.

"Brian..." he breathes sharply, his expression one of pure shock. "What are you..."

His baby blues are glistening as he uses them to plead with me to stop my assault. But fuck him. How dare he taunt me like this? He knows how I feel dammit! We're not supposed to be playing this fucking game. We've gone through it before... it should be in our past.

I pull back silently, ashamed. In a rage, I pick up the closest object - my scotch glass - and slam it against the wall. The crystals fly everywhere, even on my arm where I can feel liquid oozing downwards. I turn to look at him and see the long, thin welt just below his eye, the blood thickening to form a straight line.

I go to touch it, wipe away the blood, but he shakes me off and spits out, "I hate you!"

And it hurts.

I let him go and he slides to the floor, arms around his body in fear. I stare down at him, rosy cheeked, fucking embarrassed for what I've done.

His salty tears are mixing in with the red welt and I know firsthand how much that fucking burns, but he won't let me get near him to help. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

"Justin."

He glares at me. Slowly, he gets back up, his eyes never leaving mine. His next words affect me more than anything mean he's ever said to me. "You're just like your fucking father, Brian."

Twice in as many days? And by the woman I love to hate and the boy I hate to love. Ironic? Maybe. Or it could just be the truth. I am like Jack.

His shoulder bumps into my arm as he walks past me in a rage. And then he's gone.

01/02/03

Banner courtesy ANDY-PIG

- top - home -
[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ]
[ 11 ] [ 12 ] [ 13 ] [ 14 ] [ 15 ] [ 16 ] [ 17 ] [ 18 ] [ 19 ] [ 20 ]