Nothing and Everything



 

Brian buried his head deeper under the pillow, but the ringing still filtered through. It finally stopped when the caller disconnected to avoid the answering machine. Brian rolled onto his back and stifled a groan when the shooting pain sliced into his temple. Then the phone started ringing again. He tried to nudge Justin into answering, but he only felt cool sheets on the other side of the bed. He reluctantly sat up and shaded his bloodshot eyes from the bright light as he glanced around the loft. Where the fuck was Justin?

This time the caller let the answering machine pick up and Lindsay's voice filled the room. "Brian? Brian, get your ass out of bed and pick up the phone. Brian, are you there?”

He stumbled across the room and grabbed the phone. “What?” he barked hoarsely as he collapsed on the sofa.

"Oh! Did I wake you?" she chirped.

"Bitch," Brian grumbled as he gently rubbed his blurry eyes. “What do you want?”

"Do you know where your boyfriend is?” She sounded like a public service announcement.

“I don’t make him sign-in and out,” Brian replied coolly.

“Didn’t think so. He spent the night here, Bri, and he was pretty upset, but he wouldn’t tell me what happened. Do you know what’s going on?”

“How would I know anything? He spent the night with you,” Brian reminded her.

“You don’t know any reason why he would be upset?” she pressed.

Brian felt a cold pit open in his stomach. “Fuck off, Linds,” he attacked defensively. When she didn’t reply he softened. He could withstand the silent treatment from anyone but her. He sighed heavily. “Does he want me to come pick him up?”

“He called his mom and they just left.”

Brian winced, but his voice remained level. “So, you called me because…”

“I just wanted you to be aware of the situation.”

“Fine. I’m awake and aware, thank you very much,” he replied sarcastically.

Just then the loft door opened and Justin appeared. “Call off the search party, mommy, little boy lost just wandered home.” He disconnected the phone and dropped it on the floor as he flung his other arm over his eyes. “You missed curfew, young man.” Justin didn’t reply but Brian heard him shuffle past and up the stairs to the bedroom.

Brian’s temper flared at the childish behavior so he let the teen have his tantrum alone. He wasn’t in any shape for his lover’s theatrics anyway. He was trying to remember what he took the night before. The residual effect was making the floor rock beneath him. He twisted around on the small sofa until he managed to maneuver himself into a more comfortable position. Finally, he didn’t feel like he would toss his insides out.

But he only had a moment of peace before a loud thump shook the room. It was followed by a big crash. Then repeated scraping and slamming as each drawer was emptied and shut. “What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled despite the pain in his head.

No reply. Brian peered over the back of the sofa and saw Justin angrily stuffing clothing into his luggage. It looked as if everything he owned was strewn across the floor, leading to a big pile on the bed. Brian felt his heart skip a beat. “Justin?”

Brian’s voice only spurred the teen to move faster. Brian went to the bedroom but paused on the stairs. Lindsay hadn’t been exaggerating and Justin wasn’t just acting like a princess. His slumped shoulders quaked with silent sobs and his handsome features were marred with an angry flush and hot tears. The beautiful blue eyes were red and puffy as they darted around like a spooked animal.

Brian crossed the room and wrapped his arms around the boy. He wanted to soothe the pain and kiss the tears and hold him tight, but Justin jerked away as if he’d been burned. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.” The raw voice startled the older man and he stepped back.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

“I’m leaving,” Justin ground out hoarsely. He went to the bathroom and angrily swept his toiletries off the counter and into his backpack. When he turned back to the door Brian was blocking his way.

“Why?” Brian asked, although he suspected he knew. But it couldn’t be. He couldn’t know. But it was the only thing that happened. The only thing that would make him react so drastically. When his lover finally made eye contact with him for the first time that morning the dark storm flashing in the deep blue pools confirmed it.

Justin’s face contorted in an ugly mask of contempt. “I saw you,” he answered flatly.

All the air rushed out of Brian’s lungs as the words hit him square in the chest. He slumped against the doorframe and Justin slipped past him.

Justin wasn’t supposed to know. It wasn’t worth knowing. Already forgotten. Pushed aside in exchange for a good buzz, like any other non-event in his life. It certainly wasn’t worth this Oscar performance of hysterics.

He probably would’ve told him, eventually. Not because it was important, but because ‘sharing’, that fuzzy lezzie trait, was important to the kid. So it would’ve been a good ace in the hole when he needed it. But it wouldn’t have been a big deal because it had nothing to do with him.

Brian watched from the bedroom as Justin moved around the loft and collected his sketchpads, music and movies, books, and photographs. It wasn’t long before everything was piled in front of the door. That couldn’t be right. He’d been there for months, always underfoot. How could his presence be wiped away in a matter of minutes? Not a mark was left. Except the hole opening in Brian’s chest.

He caught Justin’s hand before he opened the door and slipped away. “It was just a fuck,” he whispered into the soft blonde hair. “It didn’t mean anything, and it had nothing to do with you.” Didn’t he understand the difference? Wasn’t that why they had the rules?

Justin stiffened and pulled away. He remembered those same lines from before. Just fucking words. “I know it had nothing to do with me,” he replied sadly. “It never has anything to do with me, does it? I’m tired of being an after thought, Brian.” Then he defiantly brushed away the tears that threatened to spill over his lashes and reached for the door handle again.

The only sign of emotion from the older man was a small flicker of pain in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by cold impenetrable steel. He held Justin in his gaze, refusing to lose control. “That’s enough of the betrayed housewife routine,” he said calmly. “I told you we weren’t getting married and putting locks on the doors. If you don’t like it, you’re free to go.” He opened the door and stood aside.

Jennifer was waiting on the other side. She glanced at Brian and his cold demeanor made her shiver. She instinctively stepped between him and her son. “Sweetheart?”

Justin handed her his backpack. “I’m ready.” She took the bag and grabbed one of his suitcases before loading them in the elevator. Justin grabbed the other bag and the box and joined her.

Brian shut the loft door before they closed the gate on the elevator. He walked on shaking legs to the refrigerator for some juice. When he saw Justin’s key on the counter, he barely made it to the sink before he was sick.

 

***
 

The next few weeks were a blur for Justin. He worked himself to exhaustion between school and the diner. Gratefully, he didn’t see Brian at all. The man never came to the diner when he knew Justin was working and the teen avoided going out to Babylon or Woody’s.

The hardest part had been telling his friends what happened. He kept it simple and told them he couldn’t put up with the tricking anymore. No one could blame him after the White Party/Wedding fiasco. Daphne held him while he cried and Emmett used George’s considerable influence for a fabulous night out to lift their spirits. Jennifer ran interference with Deb to keep the angry woman from making earrings out of Brian’s balls. Melanie and Ted gleefully took every shot imaginable at their nemesis, and Lindsay continued to referee. Michael was the only one missing the roast. Of course, he was still the ever faithful sidekick. When Brian disappeared for several days, probably on one of his legendary sprees, everyone assumed Michael was keeping watch to make sure he didn’t fuck himself to death.

Jennifer had to admit she was relieved the relationship was over, but it broke her heart to see her son so upset. She hoped immersing himself in school and making new friends would help him get over the older man. To hasten the separation, she helped him find a small studio apartment close to campus. She planned on getting his father to set up a monthly living allowance to cover the rent and utilities. Justin protested, but she insisted it was equivalent to any room expense they would’ve paid with his tuition if he had moved on campus. In the end, she found Craig more than reasonable after she told him Justin had left Brian.

 

***
 

Emmett, Ted, Melanie, Lindsay, Daphne, and Jennifer helped Justin move into his new apartment. He didn’t have much, and it was a small place, so it only took a few hours. He suspected they all offered to help more out of curiosity then necessity, but he didn’t mind their support.

He felt better than he had in days. He was about to be independent and he was looking forward to it. Any negative feelings were channeled into his art. The angst was helping him create some interesting pieces and getting him good grades. Always look for the silver lining, he kept telling himself.

“Justin, you’ve got some great light coming in for your painting,” Lindsay gushed as she peered through the large picture window.

“I know,” Justin smiled, “it was a major selling point. Let give you a tour.” He ignored everyone’s snicker and stood in the center of the large L-shaped room, rotating slowly as he pointed to each corner. “There’s the bathroom and linen closet, the living room, the bedroom, my studio, and of course the kitchen and dining room.”

In reality, he would put the futon and easy chair against the wall opposite the kitchen and facing the entertainment center and bookcase, which would line the dividing wall between the two rooms. His easel would go in front of the picture window, which was also close enough to the built-in breakfast nook where he would store his supplies and use the table for project space when necessary.

Ted and Melanie finished assembling the futon and collapsed on it. “Hey, don’t put your dirty butts on the new furniture,” Emmett scolded. “We have a present for you, sweetie,” he informed the teen. He pulled out a new set of emerald green sheets with a matching duvet and throw pillows.

“Em, it’s perfect,” the teen gushed.

“Egyptian cotton,” Emmett crowed proudly. “You’re mom suggested the color, and we all chipped in.”

Daphne and Emmett made up the bed and moved it out of the ‘studio’ and into the ‘bedroom’ while Jennifer poured refreshments and laid out some snacks for the crew. Everyone assembled around the little breakfast nook in the corner and continued to dote over the homey kitchen.

Melanie and Lindsay adored the built in benches with hidden storage under the seats, just as Justin knew they would. He wondered if it was too lesbian, but decided he didn’t really care because he liked the little touch of romance. He imagined lovers sitting cuddled together under the bay window. Their hands entwined, they read the paper and fed each other toast and fruit as the rising sun warmed them.

After another hour, everyone but Daphne left. The two teens cleaned up the last of the sandwiches and soda cans and finally settled in the living room. They were in the midst of arranging the VCR and television when Daphne couldn’t wait any longer.

She tried to be patient and let him confide in her when he was ready, but he was taking too damn long. She knew Justin’s story about simply getting fed up with the tricking was a lie. It may have been a component, but there had to be something more specific. He had put up with too much of Brian’s bullshit to just suddenly give up. “Alright, Taylor,” she huffed. “Either you tell me what really happened with Brian right now, or I’ll be forced to pull out your fingernails with these pliers.”

Justin put down the manual he’d been studying and leaned back against the futon. “And what’s after that? Chinese water torture?” he teased, trying to keep his mood light.

“Yes. And if that doesn’t break you, I’ll have to pull out my secret weapon—hetero porn!”

“Oh my God! Anything but that!” Justin squealed, covering his head as Daphne swatted him with a pillow.

“Okay, okay…uncle!” he gave up giggling.

Daphne hugged the pillow and kneeled beside him. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh, since you told me,” she said soberly.

“I know. I don’t feel like it much lately. But it’s getting better, and it will continue to get better right?”

“Right. And it will get better faster if you tell your best friend about it. Then we’ll make a voodoo doll and stick pins in his dick until it falls off.”

Justin smiled. “I like that better than Emmett’s spell.” At Daphne’s questioning look he shook his head. “Don’t ask. We had too much wine the other night and he started ranting about his grandmother’s spell book and chicken blood.” Both teens shuddered.

“He fucked Michael,” Justin suddenly blurted out.