2.
Alex Wilder sat down at his kitchen table with a cup of strong coffee and his notes from his latest session with Justin spread out before him. Justin's voice whispered through the brightly lit space, and Alex licked his lips as he picked up the audio recorder and pressed pause again so that he could make a note of specific phrases that Justin had used while speaking to him during their regular Sunday sessions.
“Why do I have to talk about my feelings so much, Alex?”
“Because you have formed the habit of burying those feeling, Justin, which is why we are here. You know this. We have discussed this until we are both blue in the face.”
“It wasn’t a suicide attempt, Alex. It wasn’t a cry for help; I’m not some sissy little faggot. I’ve told you repeatedly – I was tired. I just wanted to sleep.”
“So you keep saying, Justin. There is no shame, however, in needing to talk to someone.”
“To borrow your favorite phrase, Alex, you can talk until you're blue in the face. Unless the other person is willing to listen, unless they are willing to hear what you are saying, what’s the point?”
“I am willing to listen, Justin. That is the point. I’m willing. So are Ethan and Sam. Daphne and your mother. That’s why we have group sessions on Thursdays. We are all willing to listen to whatever you have to say. But you have to be the one who is willing to start talking.”
Alex pressed pause on the recording and made fresh notes in Justin’s file. Taking a quick mouthful of coffee, Alex sat back in his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. The kid was nineteen years old, and he had so much pain and self-loathing inside of himself that Alex was surprised that Justin hadn’t cracked sooner. There was no doubt in his mind that Justin had regressed; Justin was showing several of the symptoms he had portrayed after the bashing. Nightmares, an unwillingness to be around people, and his aversion to being touched during and after his therapy sessions were front and center.
Justin’s version of pain management had evolved into fucking and being fucked, even though he got no pleasure out of it – it almost seemed as if the boy was punishing himself, especially when he referred to himself as a piece of blonde boy ass whenever Alex brought up Justin’s tricking. His unwillingness to be in therapy at all was the most challenging thing to overcome. It didn’t help that he was an exceptionally smart little fucker, either. Taking another sip of coffee, Alex resumed listening to the recorded session.
“So you went to Boytoy last night; how was that?”
“It was all right. I danced.”
“Did you do any drugs?”
"No. And I didn't drink, either; you said I couldn't drink while taking the little pills that are meant to make me shit rainbows and glitter."
“You’re taking antidepressants, Justin, because you are depressed. They aren’t meant to make you feel like a failure. They are meant to make the day-to-day easier for you. We’ve spoken about this.”
“I fucking hate them.”
“Why do you hate them, Justin?”
“Taking them makes me feel weak.”
“Justin… you aren’t…”
“Yeah, I know. I’m not weak. Moving on.”
“So, you never said if you enjoyed dancing.”
The creak of leather sounded, and Alex recalled that Justin had shifted his weight on the couch before finally speaking.
"I was in what should have been my element; a pulsing beat. Beautiful guys. And all it showed me was that I was surrounded by people, Alex, and I have never felt more alone in my life.”
Alex pressed pause on the tape again and sat back while blowing out a harsh breath. His sessions with Justin had taken on a pattern of sorts; Tuesday’s meeting was often filled with slight tendrils of hope as a new week opened up to the boy. Thursday’s session was quite often the most draining for Justin, because he had to explain himself to members of his family and friends. And Sunday’s meeting was almost always Justin’s lowest point, especially if the boy had tricked the night before. Justin swung between aggression and despondency, and quite often shut down entirely mid-session. Alex sighed again. No, Sundays were his least favorite day with Justin; those were the days he feared he was still losing the boy.
“Did you meet anyone last night?”
“Call it what it is, Alex; did I fuck anyone last night?”
“Well, did you?”
“You know damn well I did; you had babysitting duty after all.”
“Is that what you call this, Justin? Babysitting?”
“I fucked two different guys and was fucked by someone else. What else do you want to know?”
“Why did you change the subject, Justin?”
“….”
“Justin? Answer me.”
“Because I don’t get why you’re pretending to care.”
Alex pressed pause on the tape and sat back to finish his coffee. The sun had shifted in the sky by the time he finished transcribing Justin’s session onto his laptop. It was only when he had finished with their last session that Alex opened up Justin’s file on his computer, listening to some of their earlier meetings as the sound of the boy’s pain bled through his words.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Thank you for meeting me alone this first time. How long have you and Justin known each other for, Daphne?”
“Sixteen years. We were three when we met each other, and we’ve been best friends ever since.”
“So you know Justin well, then?”
“There is no one that I know better, or who knows me better than Justin.”
“Does Justin trust you, Daphne?”
“Yes, as much as he is capable of trusting anyone right now.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“In Justin’s eyes, you are forcing him to expose himself to the people in his life. I know that this is an essential part of his treatment, and that he needs to know that we all love him regardless of what comes out of his mouth. But you are still forcing him to open himself up to people when it is the last thing he wants to do.”
“Why do you say that, Daphne?”
“Because the last time he opened up, the last time he showed the people he loved who he really was, he was kicked out of the family home. On some level, I think Justin probably regrets coming out, because his entire life changed in an instant. He went from a semi-stable home life to being fucked in public by a guy who was constantly showing him that he wasn’t good enough.”
“That… that is quite profound, Daphne.”
“I was second in high school when it came to the top position for grades. I scored 1485 on my SATs. I’m in my first year of medical school. The only person who continually beat me for top marks was Justin, who scored 1500 on his SATs. And that is something you need to understand, Alex. Justin isn’t stupid; he might be in considerable pain, and he might be confused about what is real versus what is in his own mind, but he isn’t stupid. So, don’t make the mistake of thinking that he is. My friend was accepted into five of the top colleges in the country. He could have been whatever he wanted in life; instead, he met Brian fucking Kinney.”
“So, you blame Brian?”
“You know, Alex, I was there that night.”
“What night?”
“Prom. I was Justin’s date. So, I saw Brian come in. I watched them dance, and I watched Brian kiss Justin in front of all those people. I saw Brian show Justin that he cared about him, that he wanted a future with him, and I saw Justin light up in a way that he had never done before. He finally had the man he was in love with, and he was happy. It had made the shit of the last year with his family worthwhile. Ten minutes later, Justin was on the ground with his skull bashed in, and Brian locked the man he had shown Justin away. As bad as it sounds, Alex, I’m glad that Justin can’t remember Prom.”
“Why?”
“Because it would break Justin’s heart, and it would only reinforce that he wasn’t enough for Brian.”
“What are you hoping that Justin gets out of therapy, Daphne?”
“His fucking pride back. His sense of self. After the bashing, he became a pod person; someone that neither of us recognized anymore. And the tighter he held onto Brian for support, support that he desperately needed, the more Brian was able to hurt Justin. I can’t tell you how many times Justin would walk into the loft, the one place he should have felt safe, and found his boyfriend fucking some other guy.”
“You have a real issue with Brian right now, don’t you, Daphne?”
“If what you are saying is true, and I’m not saying that you are right, either, but if what you are saying is true, then my best friend tried to kill himself, Alex. Damn straight I have an issue with Brian Kinney.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Are you still having nightmares, Justin?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you written them down?”
“Yeah.”
“Justin…are you all right?”
“No.”
“Do you want…”
“No.”
“You need to…”
“No.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“How do you feel having your mom sit in on this session, Justin?”
“Don’t care. You said I had to do this, so…whatever.”
“And you, Jennifer? How do you feel about joining Justin?”
“I’m pleased that I have re-earned some of my son’s trust. He sees this as something that he has to do, but he could have shut me out and just had his friends in here.”
“Why do you have to re-earn Justin’s trust?”
“Because I didn’t handle learning that he was gay in a good way; I dragged him into therapy that he didn’t want. I didn’t listen when he asked me not to tell his father. I didn’t handle the fact that he was bashed well either, and it caused a lot of unnecessary grief for Justin that could have been avoided. It doesn’t matter how many Prides I walk in with Justin – I feel that if I had just handled the start of all of this better, then maybe Justin wouldn’t be hurting like he is now.”
“Have you spoken to Justin about this? Any of this?”
“No, I haven’t. By the time I was willing to listen, Justin was no longer willing to talk.”
“So you love your son, Jennifer?”
“I more than love my son, Doctor. I am willing to do whatever it takes to help Justin, in any way.”
“Do you know this, Justin?”
“Can we take a break now?”
“Justin, you can’t avoid talking about the things that cause you pain forever.”
“Sure I can.”
“Justin…”
“How’s Molly doing, Mom? Is she still enjoying her dance lessons?”
“Justin…”
“Is Dad still paying for those lessons? How about her tennis lessons? Her swimming lessons? Her fucking education?”
“…”
“I think we’ll take a break now; Jennifer, can I interest you in some tea?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Tell me about the problems with your hand, Justin.”
“What’s there to talk about? You know what happened. I don’t need to tell you about it.”
“I’d rather hear it from your mouth, Justin, than rely on the public record.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather forget it ever happened.”
“How can you forget about it, Justin, when it is shaping the person you are becoming?”
“Because I have to forget about it – they said I have to get over it.”
“Justin…did you ever talk to anyone about the bashing? About how it made you feel?”
“No one would talk to me about it; I’m over it…I don’t want to rehash it.”
“Justin, you aren’t over it.”
“I said no! Fuck this shit; I’m out of here.”
“Justin, wait!”
“Just leave me alone!”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Tell me about Ethan.”
“Ethan’s been great; when I first met him, he came across as this condescending little shit. He was so fucking cocky. He had told me to get some friends my own age, so I gave Ethan a second chance. We began to talk more often, and we got to know each other better. And through Ethan, I met Sam, and it sort of snowballed from there.”
“So would you call him your friend?”
“…..”
“Justin?”
“How do you decipher friendship? You don’t fuck your friends, but I’ve fucked Daph, and I’ve fucked Ethan, and he’s fucked me. It was once we got that out of the way that we clicked, you know? He understands the passion and drive I have for my art; he understands that there are days where my art can tear me open as I am trying to put it down on paper or canvas; it’s on those days that he just holds me after I surface and can’t find steady footing. He knows the pressure I am under at school, and how much harder I have to work because of my hand.”
“So, he supports you?”
“Yeah, he does. He lets me get lost in my art; he’s always so fucking patient when I forget to meet up with him and Sam for lunch or coffee. Instead of getting pissed at me, he drags Sam across campus to find me, and that’s when he will remind me to eat or to take a break. But then I’ve done that for him when he’s practicing, and he loses track of time.”
“Practicing?”
“Yeah, he plays the violin. He’s got such talent for it; I’ve told him that there is only some of his music I can listen to without hunching my shoulders. I thought he’d be insulted, but he just laughed and told me that there was like… only a third of my art that he had looked at that he understood. The rest was lost on him; he got the feeling I was trying to portray, and that when he looked at my art lately, it hurt him. He said that you would have to be blind not to see how depressed I was when the art I have been producing since high school screamed pain. I told him he was a drama queen.”
“So you care for Ethan?”
“Yeah. Ethan gave me a soft place to land after I… after.”
“After what, Justin?”
“Can we take a break?”
“Why do you avoid talking about Brian and everything to do with your relationship…Justin, where are you going?”
“I told you when we started this, Alex. I don’t want to talk about him.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Justin, you have said several times now that you didn’t try to kill yourself.”
“And I didn’t.”
“Justin, you swallowed a handful of sleeping tablets and a half a bottle of Beam.”
“I know that.”
“And you also know that you stopped breathing while Ethan was waiting for the ambulance.”
“I know that, too. Ethan had to perform CPR until help arrived; I’ve apologized to him for that. For all of this.”
“And what did Ethan say?”
“He said I could jam my apologies up my ass, and that if I ever did anything like this again, he’d kill me himself.”
“What did you say to that statement?”
“I told him that when he was over his queen out to give you a call.”
“He did call me, Justin.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So if it wasn’t a suicide attempt, Justin, what was it?”
“I hadn’t slept for over a week, Alex. I was desperate… I’d left him, and had the people I thought were my friends turn their backs on me. And that was ok, you know? They were his friends first. But I lost my home, my lover, my friends, and my job all in a matter of a few days. I couldn’t take enough drugs or drink enough to pass out. I wasn’t trying to die, Alex, you have to believe me. I just wanted everything to stop. Just for a minute.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Thank you for coming in today, Ethan. Can you tell me a little bit about how you and Justin met?”
“We met at a recital I was doing at PIFA. He’d been given the tickets for his birthday. I watched him draw during the recital; that, and the fact that he’s fucking gorgeous was enough to distract me. I told him as much when he approached me afterward.”
“How’d he take your compliment?”
“Not as a compliment. I had to backtrack pretty quickly, but I could tell he thought I was an idiot. I assumed that would be the last I ever saw of him.”
“But it wasn’t?”
“No. I saw Justin all the time after that on campus. It surprised the hell out of me when I approached him one day and asked if I could join him for coffee and he agreed. Sam met up with us halfway through, and that was when I saw Justin relax for the first time in my company. I guess knowing that I had a boyfriend meant that he could relax around us without wondering if we were trying to get into his pants.”
“So you found him attractive.”
“Doc, I could be half dead, and I’d still think he was gorgeous.”
“So looks are important to you?”
“I never said that – don’t put words in my mouth. When I say that Justin is gorgeous, I don’t just mean his face. I mean him as a person; Justin can be quite the brat, and he can queen out with the best of them. But when it comes down to it, he is incredibly loyal and kind and so freaking talented that it’s not funny. He has got the biggest heart and so much love to give. I feel incredibly privileged that I can say I am one of only a few that he calls a friend.”
“How did you feel about Justin ending up in the hospital?”
“I’ve known that I was going to play the violin since before I could even pronounce it correctly. I was declared a musical genius while I was still a child. I have wanted to play the violin all my life, and at one point in my life, I would have said that I would rather die than ever lose this fantastic gift that I have been blessed with. When I was sixteen, I broke my shoulder and was unable to play for several months; the pain I was in was indescribable, Alex. Even lifting my hand was causing me to vomit.
“But finding Justin in the bathroom at my place the way I did? Nothing compared to that pain. Seeing Justin strapped down on a bed in the psychiatric ward made that pain seem like a mild niggle. Hearing him call for the fucker while he was still drifting in and out of consciousness made that pain feel like a little splinter. And watching someone who I have come to love suffer the way he is now? I would give up the violin and my talent if it meant that Justin was happy again. If it meant that he could just breathe easy.”
“He’s fortunate to have you as a friend, Ethan.”
“No, Alex, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m the lucky one.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Do you still spend the night occasionally with Ethan and Sam?”
“Maybe once in a while. Mainly after Daph’s been here with me on a Thursday; those days are hard for us, because we have to be honest with each other.”
“Why then?”
“Daph and I are living together, so when we tear each other open while we’re here, we need that break from each other. I thought you knew that.”
“Why not move back in with your mom?”
“Yeah, right. And have her micromanage my life for me? I don’t think so.”
“How’s the new job going?”
“Really good, actually. The money is decent, and the hours suit me.”
“And how’s school?”
“I’m going to have to drop out. I can’t afford the tuition, and my father won’t pay for it.”
“I thought you and…he had an agreement.”
“I don’t want anything from him, Alex. Most of the fags on Liberty already think I’m his kept boy; I had a hard enough time being called his whore when we were together. I’m sure as shit not letting him pay my tuition now that we’re not fucking anymore.”
“What about scholarships?”
“Ethan and Sam are looking into that with me. I should hear back soon.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“You said in our last session that you felt interchangeable. What did you mean by that?”
“I dunno.”
“Yes, you do, because otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought it up, Justin. I have told you too many times to count that anything you say in here stays here. I’m not here to judge you. Why do you feel interchangeable?”
“….from the time I came out as gay, I’ve never really felt…. welcome. I got kicked out of home. My father didn’t want me. My mother didn’t want to deal with me. My friends all took a step away from me at school. Daphne was the only one who stuck by me. And when the world opened up for me, the people in that new world didn’t want me, either. Oh…they did, they wanted to fuck me. But they didn’t want me.”
“Debbie let you live with her; she wanted you.”
“Debbie took me in because he didn’t want me living with him anymore. Debbie let me live there, because my mother paid her to deal with me. If there hadn’t been money changing hands, I wouldn’t have had that place to stay, either.”
“You lived with Br….him again after you were bashed.”
“He only took me in because he felt guilty; he continued to let me live there because I was a piece of blond boy ass on tap.”
“Justin, the man paid for your education; surely you know that you meant more to him than a convenient fuck.”
“Did I?”
“Is that how you really feel, Justin?”
“…”
“Justin?”
“Do you know how hard it is to love someone, Alex, and know that you aren’ t enough for them? You can be fucked upwards of a half a dozen times a day, you can drop to your knees whenever they want their cock sucked without a single word of complaint, and they still feel the need to stick their dick in someone else. If that doesn’t tell you that you aren’t enough for them, then I don’t know what does.”
“Is that why you left him?”
“I was no longer making him happy, and he couldn’t hide how much he didn’t want me anymore. I’d come home from school or work and find wet cum stains on the sheets that he expected me to sleep on. They were never on his side of the bed… they were always on mine. The unmistakable stench of sex in the air, and he’d… it got to the point that I would lie on my stomach rather than look at him; rather than see the unmistakable look on his face….
“I told him I didn’t expect him to change. I just didn’t want it in my face. But every time I turned around there was some other fucker in our bed. In the bed he shared with me. It was his way of reminding me that it was his home – not our home. Not my home. There were no fucking locks on our door, and if I didn’t like it, too fucking bad. Then I met Ethan. And everything changed.”
“How did things change, Justin?”
“That’s the thing, Alex; I don’t know. We had these stupid fucking rules, right? Home by three, no names and numbers, no repeats, and no kissing on the mouth. I broke the kissing one once by mistake; I’d fucked this virgin, and I felt guilty because I knew I was hurting him. I knew what it was like to be fucked by someone with just this brushing of lips over my shoulder before they pushed in, and I didn’t want this kid to feel so used. So I kissed him; it meant nothing to me, but I knew he was angry with me over it.”
“And Ethan?”
“I wanted to fuck Ethan from the start; God, he was so fucking cocky, and the attraction was there, you know? But he had a boyfriend, and when I met Sam the attraction for him was instantaneous. We all knew we wanted each other, but you don’t fuck your friends; the attraction kept simmering, and then one night it just boiled over. I went to listen to Ethan play his violin, and Sam and I were sitting there side-by-side, and Sam told me very quietly that he and Ethan had talked about it openly and honestly, and why the fuck not? I fucked Sam that night, and Ethan fucked me. Over the following days, I fucked Ethan, and Sam fucked me. I blurred the lines in doing that, but I stuck to the rules – it was once and once only.”
“Did you kiss either of them?”
“We kiss all the time; I kiss them hello, and I kiss them good-bye. I didn’t think that would matter because he always kisses his best friend the same way. Ethan has kissed me like a lover would once, and that was when he kissed me at the Rage party when he could see how upset I was.”
“Why were you upset?”
“Because I had asked him to tell me if he cared whether I was with him or not. He told me he didn’t care. He knew that I loved him, and he didn’t feel the same way. He can’t help that, and I know that I can’t blame him for how he doesn’t feel. It doesn’t mean that it didn’t feel like he had ripped my fucking heart out of my chest. I just couldn’t settle for what he could give me any more.”
“And what could he give you, Justin?”
“His money. His loft. His cock. Nothing else. Not his love. Not even his friendship in the end. Not his respect.”
“What else did you want from him?”
“You know, for my birthday this year, he got me a hustler. His best friend told me that Bri… he didn’t do romance. Flowers and hetro bullshit. After Rage, Ethan asked me what had I wanted most for my birthday.”
“And what did you want, Justin?”
“Peace. Just a quiet day for the two of us, where we watched TV and ordered dinner in. Spent the day fucking. Maybe smoked some choice pot. I didn’t want nor do I need flowers; my allergies give me enough problems without adding fucking pollen to the mix. His idea of what he thinks romance is, is so far from mine that it isn’t funny. Like, he doesn’t celebrate birthdays, only achievements. But wasn’t the fact that I survived to even see another birthday an achievement in and of itself?”
“Of course it is, Justin. It was a miracle that you survived not only the bashing, but the fact that your attacker got off with just a slap on the wrist.”
“I don’t want to talk about that. I just don’t want to talk anymore…can we take a break?”
“Justin, you are making real progress today…”
“Please, Alex.”
“Alright, Kiddo.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Is it normal for a nineteen-year-old to not get an erection when being fucked?”
“What do you mean, Justin?”
“I get hard when I’m fucking other guys. But when it’s me being fucked, I lose it completely.”
“When was the last time you got an erection while having sex?”
“When I was fucked by Sam.”
“Did he hurt you in any way?”
“No, not at all. It was fun, you know? I enjoyed my time with him and Ethan.”
“What happened afterward?”
“I went home… I mean, I went back to where I had been living. He was there.”
“What happened then?”
“He wanted me… I wanted to take a shower because I could smell Sam all over me. I know how much I used to hate it when he would come home smelling like another guy and fuck me anyway.”
“What happened after your shower, Justin?”
“I never got to the shower….oh, God.”
“Justin…Justin! Breathe, just breathe. This is a panic attack, breathe with me now. That’s right, in and out. Slowly….slowly…”
“Alex… don’t touch me!”
“Calm down, Justin, just breathe…”
“Don’t touch me… don’t… I need a shower… Oh God, I need a shower…”
“Justin, calm down… why do you need a shower?”
“I stink… I… fuck, Alex, just let me go… I want to go home…”
Alex closed Justin’s file and sank back into his seat with a sigh. There were days where Justin opened up to him, and the feelings he had bottled up inside came pouring out like poison. But then there were the days where the boy could barely bring himself to lift his gaze from the floor; those were the days that haunted Alex. It was on those days, on days like today, when Alex was left wondering…was he even helping Justin, or was he just delaying the inevitable?