24.

Disassociation; Brian hated the fucking term.  Hated what it meant, and everything related to it.  Hated that he saw the blank look on Justin’s face again, while knowing that it wasn’t a mask that he hid behind.  Hated that the people in his life had hurt him so severely that Justin had retreated into his own mind, rather than face the pain of being awake.  Three days.  His boy had been hiding within his own mind for three days.  He reacted to stimuli – his body would twitch, but there was no flicker of emotion to go with it.  No reaction to people talking to him.  There was no life behind the eyes that stared through you when you were standing right in front of him; nothing that marked his ex-lover as human and alive. 

 “…the boy you can remember before Prom, Brian?  He’s gone.  And he’s not coming back.  In his place is this beautiful creature of pure misery.  He might look the same.  He might even sound the same.  But you don’t know this Justin, Brian…”

But…

This was Justin; version 2.0.  The one that Alex had told him about all those weeks ago; the one that Brian was slowly getting to know.  The boy that Brian had fallen in love with was apparently gone; the young man who remained was an enigma that Brian was fighting to understand.  But… there were still hints of the boy who had fallen to the ground in the garage.  Signs of the innocence that Brian had loved peeking out from the darkness that Justin hid in.  Tiny moments that told Brian that Justin wasn’t gone; he was merely lost in the depression that had stolen him away from the people who loved him.    

There was something there.  Something that told Brian that Justin was still fighting.  It was in the way he would hold himself rigidly when anyone came into his room; his whole body would lock up, even as his face and eyes remained utterly blank.  But he hadn’t had that reaction with Ethan, Sam, or Daphne.  He hadn’t had that reaction when according to Emmett, he had bought Tommy by to visit, and the pretty little twink had spent the afternoon combing his fingers through Justin’s hair and telling him about the program he was dancing in.

Justin hadn’t had that reaction with him. 

That alone told Brian that wherever it was that Justin had gone within his mind, his boy was looking at the broken pieces of his psyche and was trying to reassemble the fractured pieces into a working picture.  Brian had no idea what that picture would look like when Justin was finished, but one thing he was certain of – it wouldn’t change how he felt about him.  It wouldn’t change how much he was willing to fight to reclaim his lost youth.      

As much as Brian hated the fact that Justin had disassociated himself from the real world, there was a strong feeling of relief that on some level he was allowing him to take care of him.  It was more than bringing him a lemon bar or spending time together in silence.  It was in the way he would slowly chew whatever food Brian spooned into his mouth.  By the way he would empty his bladder whenever Brian took him into the bathroom.  In the way his muscles would quiver under Brian’s hands, but not lock up and become ridged.

Those quivering muscles were the reason that Daphne had put aside her anger and sat down with Brian and the two boys to work out a schedule.  One of them was always present for breakfast or lunch.  Brian knew that he had made inroads toward forgiveness with Daphne when she had regarded him with cool eyes, before asking him if he could handle the dinner shift and everything that went with it; Brian had merely nodded before learning exactly what that meant.  It was an exercise in self-control, but it also gave him comfort in a way that nothing else had since this had started.      

Brian carefully wiped away the remnants of Justin’s dinner with a damp cloth; his nutritionist had reworked Justin’s meal plans so that everything he ate was soft, and there wasn’t a risk in him choking.  Soups thick with grain and vegetable, and slow-cooked stews filled with nutrients meant that Justin continued to slowly gain back the weight that he had lost over the last five months.  Sweet oatmeal, and baked potatoes that were smothered in sour cream.   

His face wasn’t as pale as it had been the day Brian had first learned about Justin’s attempt when he had seen him with Alex, Ethan, and Sam.  His skin had regained a soft flush of color, and it no longer looked like it was stretched thin over bone.  His face had slowly refilled, taking away the outer appearance of his illness.  His body no longer seemed as skinny as it had, although he still had at least ten pounds to regain.

Glancing at his watch, Brian set the cloth aside and headed into the bathroom; running the taps, he waited as the water warmed up before he filled the sink with hot, soapy water.  Returning to Justin’s side, he coaxed him to his feet and led him into the small bathroom.  Blowing out a deep breath and reminding himself that this was a lesson in control, Brian stripped Justin out of his clothes; ignoring the memories of warm showers and soapy hands sliding over slick skin, he rinsed the cloth out and set about washing Justin’s body.

His movements were practiced, and Brian deliberately kept his mind blank as he raised one of Justin’s arms, and rubbed the cloth briskly down the limb and into his armpit.  Rinsing the material, he continued to wash the pale body before him; across his chest and stomach, and between his thighs where his soft cock remained nestled against dark gold curls.  Down the lightly furred length of his legs, and then up across his back.  The smooth skin of his ass, and the treasured place between the firm globes, before he dropped the cloth in the sink and grabbed the towel.

Brian dried Justin’s body briskly as goose bumps marred the silky texture of his skin, and then reached for the stick of deodorant.  Clean clothes; black briefs, thick socks, and warm sweatpants.  A long-sleeved tee-shirt that caused Justin’s hair to crackle with static electricity when he pulled it over Justin’s head and guided his arms into the sleeves.  A hoodie that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and, strangely enough, chocolate chip cookies. 

Rinsing the cloth out again, Brian tilted Justin’s face up and gently wiped it across the features he knew better than his own.  He could feel the stubble that covered Justin’s jaw, and brushing his thumb across the coarse hair, he made a mental note to bring his shaving kit in tomorrow.  Guiding Justin to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet, he ran a brush through Justin’s messy hair.  As those long strands were brushed into place, Brian realized that he wasn’t alone.  Looking up, he swallowed when he saw Jennifer watching him from the doorway.

Rolling his lips into his mouth, Brian waited for the inevitable explosion as Jennifer entered the room.  She brushed her hand across Justin’s bowed head, and then looked up at Brian.  But the explosion never came; instead, he breathed in the floral scent of her perfume as she slipped her arms around him, and he closed his eyes as she squeezed gently.

“Any change?” she asked when she let him go, and Brian shook his head as he knelt down and guided Justin’s feet into the warm moccasins he had found in Justin’s bag.

“No,” he said finally, as he reached for Justin’s toothbrush and squeezed a dab of minty paste onto the bristles.

Jennifer fell silent as Brian guided Justin to the sink and set about cleaning his teeth for him.  She noticed how patient he was, tilting her son’s face in different directions as he moved the toothbrush over the surface of Justin’s teeth, before he gently pushed Justin’s head towards the sink and rubbed his back as the soapy foam dripped out of Justin’s mouth.  Rubbing his wet fingers across Justin’s teeth to wipe away the remaining foam, Brian then patted the skin of his mouth dry.  It was only when Justin was settled into his chair with a blanket tucked across his legs that Brian finally faced her.

“I don’t blame you for this, Brian,” Jennifer said in the silence that followed.  “I never have.  I know it might not seem like it, but I do learn from my mistakes, and this was no more your fault than Prom was; if I hadn’t blamed you for what happened that night, and made you feel like you couldn’t visit Justin during the day, this might not have happened.  I know that, and I have to live with it.  And while I may have told Debbie to stay away, that was only because of Michael.  I had to protect my son.  But I never blamed you for Justin doing what he did. 

“As time went on, I didn’t know how to tell you what had happened.  Daphne said that it was up to Justin as to whether or not you were told.  We all knew that he had been asking for you when he was drifting in and out of consciousness during those first few days.  But when he eventually woke up, Justin said that he didn’t want you to know.  That he didn’t want to burden you, or worse, have you come back to him out of obligation, the way you had after Prom.”

Brian flinched, and Jennifer shook her head slightly as he sucked his lip into his mouth.

“I know that wasn’t why you took him in, Brian; you have to remember just how far Justin had slipped into his depression by that stage.  The only person he believed in fully was Daphne; it took Ethan and Sam nearly a full month of daily visits while he was hospitalized for Justin to believe that they wanted to be there for him, that they wanted to help him.  That they really were his friends, and they weren’t visiting him out of a sense of guilt or obligation.  And once he did believe them, they turned that friendship into a family of sorts, something that Justin desperately needed; more than he needed me.  

“I blame myself for Justin’s current state,” she continued softly.  “I knew that Justin wouldn’t be happy knowing that his father was interfering in his life again after all this time.  But I never thought he’d shut down the way he has.  I needed to warn him, Brian; I needed to give him time, so that he could rebuild whatever walls he needed to, so that his father couldn’t hurt him any further than he already had.  I didn’t want to think that his state of mind was as fragile as it is.  It would mean admitting that I had failed him again; that I had failed to protect him once more, like I failed him when his father threw him out of the house, and again when Craig refused to pay for Justin’s tuition.”

Jennifer bit her lip and shook her head slightly as she fell silent.  Brian leaned against the window ledge and watched her with a steady gaze; what could he really say?  That she sucked as a mother, and that yes, this was her fault?  Guilt was something that he was on intimate terms with, and he could no more blame Jennifer than he could shake off his own culpability.  Jennifer sank into the chair across from Justin and sighed heavily.

“I blame Craig for his indifference towards our son, and I blame Chris Hobbs for trying to kill him,” she said finally, and Brian jerked before he tilted his head slightly.

“What do you mean by indifference?” he asked quietly, and Jennifer gave a mirthless laugh.

“Debbie once told me that Justin had a good childhood; after all, he grew up with two parents, in a well-to-do neighborhood. He grew up knowing creature comforts, because Craig and I were financially comfortable.  She was quite surprised when I told her that he hadn’t had a good childhood at all.  Do you know why words are so important to Justin?” she asked, but then continued to before Brian could answer.  “Because he never had them when he was at home; instead, he was treated with icy disdain and cold indifference.  He asked me once why his father didn’t love him.”

Jennifer looked towards Brian and managed a sad smile as she watched his eyes flick between her and Justin. 

“He was only nine years old at the time, Brian,” she said softly.  “That was the year that he asked Santa for a man to love; I didn’t realize at the time that he meant a partner – I thought he wanted a father figure, a department that Craig severally lacked in.  I know I coddled Justin over the years, but when you are always at silent war within your own home, you pick the battles you think you can win; Craig never allowed Justin to win any of those small battles.  He constantly belittled our son; according to Craig, Justin was too diminutive, too inadequate to be a man.

“Nothing he ever did was good enough for Craig, because Justin wasn’t interested in sports.  Our son thrived on learning and art; he could draw recognizable pictures by the time he was four.  And that talent continued to grow and flourish.  But the drawings that Justin produced were never allowed to be placed on the refrigerator – instead, he hid them in his room after his father tore up one of the pictures he had left on Craig’s desk for his father to look at.

“It didn’t matter to Craig that Justin was at the top of his class at school every year academically.  It didn’t matter that his son could speak both Italian and French fluently by the time he was in his teens.  All that Craig saw was the fact that his son didn’t play football like the sons of his associates at the country club.  He was embarrassed by that, and while he put on a good show in public, in private he continually showed Justin that he would never be good enough by not taking an interest in what his child was good at.   

“Justin told me a long time ago that when he fell in love, he would tell his partner every day how much he was cherished.  He would make sure that his partner, and any children that they had, would know just how much he adored them because he knew what it was like to grow up knowing that he wasn’t loved or wanted.  Justin knew I loved him, but that love never made up for the fact that when his father looked at him, he could never hide his disappointment.” 

Brian swallowed hard as he turned to look at his boy; Justin’s head was bowed, and as he sat there so silently, he recalled Justin telling him that he loved him.  Those softly spoken declarations had fallen silent over time when Brian had refused to return the sentiment, or he had openly scorned the words that Justin had offered him.  Silent and hidden behind a mask until Brian had been reduced to looking for that love in Justin’s eyes when he first woke up. 

“I just don’t know how to help him,” Jennifer said finally, as she reached for Justin’s hand and stroked her fingers across his skin.

Justin’s entire body twitched at her touch, and Jennifer fought back her tears as she slowly withdrew her hand from Justin’s when he grew rigid in his chair. 

“He doesn’t flinch from his friend’s touch,” she said as a single tear slid down over her cheek.  “He doesn’t flinch from yours.  I feel like every involuntary flinch he gives serves as a reminder of the fact that I have let him down so badly; from how I handled things when he came out, to how I reacted when Chris Hobbs tried to kill him.  He’s made his own family now, and I’m on the outside looking in… it makes me wonder how often Justin felt like that… it’s like this is some sort of punishment that a greater power has handed to me to show me that my son might love me, but he doesn’t trust me.  Knowing that?  There is no worse feeling, Brian.”

Wiping away the traces of moisture from her face, Jennifer rose to her feet and brushed her hand gently over Justin’s head, before she turned and walked out of the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brian looked up from the book he held and sighed; Justin was curled up in the armchair, his eyes vacant as he stared out on the twinkling city lights over the parking lot.  Licking his finger, Brian turned the page and shifted his weight slightly before he began to read out loud again.  It was late – later than he usually stayed - but his conversation with Jennifer continued to float across his mind, and it mingled with Ethan’s and Alex’s words and the research he had done when trying to learn about and understand depression.

Feelings of inadequacy; of not being good enough for the people in his life.  Alex had told him that Justin hadn’t really wanted all that much from him.  He hadn’t wanted Brian’s money or his reputation; he had only wanted to be loved, and for Brian to know that Justin loved him in return.  Brian’s voice trailed off mid-sentence, and he swallowed hard as he looked across at Justin’s profile.  Words; words that Justin had needed, but Brian had been unable to articulate – him, a man who sold words for a living.  Would the world really have stopped rotating if he told Justin that he loved him?  Was his reputation really that fucking important anymore? 

Would the pain of learning about missed opportunities and miscommunication ever go away?  If he had asked Justin about Ethan, would this have ever happened?  Or was it preordained that Justin would suffer regardless; and in watching the young man he loved suffer, his own pain and misery were made even more excruciating.  Is this what love was meant to be?  A vicious circle?  He had been too scared to give Justin the power to hurt him, but it hadn’t been Justin who dealt this blow.  It had been his own fear, and his inability to find the words to help the one person who had always supported him unquestioningly.

Shaking his head, Brian resumed reading to Justin.  He had found the well-thumbed copy of Atonement by Ian McEwan* hidden in Justin’s bag a couple of days ago; several pages were dog-eared, and as he read the book out loud, Brian wondered who Justin saw within the characters.  Did he see himself in Robbie?  Accused unfairly of a crime he hadn’t committed?  Persecuted because of jealousy?  Brian sighed; the lesson he was learning from these pages was one he had already learned; there was nothing more dangerous than a lie, and that there was nothing uglier than the truth being revealed.

“Briony carried her half-smoked cigarette to the sink.  She was feeling sick.  She took a saucer for an ashtray from the plate rack.  Her sister’s confirmation of her crime was terrible to hear.  But the perspective was unfamiliar.  Weak, stupid, confused, cowardly, evasive - she had hated herself for everything she had been, but she had never thought of herself as a liar.  How strange, and how clear it must seem to Cecilia.  It was obvious, and irrefutable.  And yet, for a moment she even thought of defending herself.  She hadn’t intended to mislead, she hadn’t acted out of malice.  But who would believe that?”

Brian huffed out the sound of bitter laughter – oh, the fucking irony.  He was beginning to hate this fucking book.  Hated that the story showed similarities to his own reality.  God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to turn back time and change it all.  To ask Justin if he was cheating with Ethan, rather than taking Michael’s word for it.  To have not fucked Rage; to have not damaged something deep inside Justin over it.  To have not dragged his lover to the floor, only to use the love, trust, and desire he had seen in Justin’s eyes against the boy.  To have had the fucking courage to say that, yes, he would miss Justin if he was gone. 

Because he did; he missed him to the point that it was a physical ache that he carried with him everywhere he went.  His bed felt too large – too empty, and he woke up reaching for Justin every morning.  His loft echoed with the ghostly sound of Justin’s voice.  Tricking was simply the means to alleviate sexual frustration, and it left him feeling even worse when the act did nothing to satisfy the craving he had for the slim body that he knew so well.  And to know that he had gotten more satisfaction out of washing all that pale skin than having his cock sucked?  Brian shook his head and managed to smile.  He was fucking pathetic, and he damn well knew it.             

Looking towards Justin’s reflection in the window, Brian blinked and then blinked again when he saw those blue eyes staring back at him.  They closed slowly, but when they opened again and refocused on him, Brian slowly put the book down.  Holding that steady gaze, he moved around the armchair to crouch at Justin’s feet.  Dulled over by the fresh blow he had been dealt, Justin still turned his head to look down at him; his lips twisted into a grimace, and Brian reached out to grasp Justin’s hands in his own as he shifted his weight.  Rubbing his thumb firmly over the back of Justin’s hand, Brian managed to push the words out as Justin continued to stare at him.

“You really freaked me out,” he said quietly, and Justin blinked rapidly as his eyes sheened over slightly the memory of Brian saying that to him after Gus’s birthday slithered through his mind.

Brian swallowed hard when he realized that Justin was blinking back tears; rising to his feet, he coaxed Justin to his own.  The blond teetered slightly, but when he seemed steady enough, Brian slowly drew Justin into his arms.  The momentary hesitation Justin showed had Brian squeezing his eyes shut, but then Justin caved in on himself and he curled into Brian’s embrace.  Brian tilted his head back briefly and then wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could as a full body shudder shook Justin’s entire frame.

“Where’d you go?” he whispered as he nudged Justin’s temple gently with his nose to show what he meant, and Justin trembled as he tucked his head under Brian ’s chin.

“I don’t know,” Justin said finally as Brian tucked his hair behind his ear.  “How… how many days have I lost?”

Brian closed his eyes and shivered.

“Three days,” he said finally.  “You’ve been gone for three days.”

Justin nodded; Brian could feel the damp spot growing against his collarbone, and he smoothed his hand over the back of Justin’s head gently, before turning his face and pressing his mouth against the soft blond hair under his lips.

“I… I can’t do this, Brian… I can’t…”              

Shifting his weight, Brian pulled Justin tighter against his body as the broken whisper floated up between them; skimming his hand down Justin’s back, he spoke quietly.

“You’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for, Justin; don’t let Craig, or anyone else, put doubt in your mind now.”

Justin shook his head, and when he pressed closer to Brian’s body, seeking warmth and comfort, Brian pressed his mouth against Justin’s head once more, the burning in his eyes threatening to send tears spilling down his face as Justin spoke again.

“I’m tired of always having to be strong, Brian.  I’m just so fucking tired…”

Tilting his head up, Justin finally looked up at Brian; pain-smeared blue eyes and those gold-tipped lashes were slightly darker and stuck together from the tears he had hidden.  But his voice didn’t waver when he spoke, even though it barely raised above a whisper.

“Why are you here?”

Cupping Justin’s face briefly as he wiped away the moisture clinging to those lashes, Brian shrugged.

“You’re here,” he said finally.  “Where else would I be?”

Justin’s eyebrows drew together briefly before a sad smile curved his lips as he closed his eyes again and tucked his head back under Brian’s chin.

“You wear Prada better than this season’s line of guilt, Brian.”

Brian felt his face crease when Justin’s soft words reached his ears, and he smoothed his hands across Justin’s back so that he could curve them around the blond’s shoulders and force him back a step.  Dropping his head slightly, Brian looked down into those pretty, blue eyes and spoke firmly.

“1500 on your SATs, Justin; tell me what venerate means.”

Justin’s lips pressed tightly together, and he shook his head slightly as Brian stared down at him.

“Tell me,” Brian implored quietly, and when Justin looked away with a jerk of his shoulder, Brian drew him back into his arms and pressed his mouth lightly against the side of Justin’s head as he closed his eyes.

“Admired.  Valued.  Thought highly of.  Respected.  Held sacred.”

Brian swallowed as he finished murmuring the words against Justin’s hair.  Opening his eyes, he tilted his chin and looked down at the blond head that was resting against his chest, before turning his eyes towards the window.  He could see Justin’s face in the reflection; he could see the expressive eyes and the way that Justin’s hands kept twitching where they were lightly pressed against Brian’s stomach.  Meeting that troubled gaze, Brian licked his lips and then spoke quietly.

“Where else would I be?” 

Justin’s lips twitched, and he lowered his eyes slightly. “You care for all of your friends, Brian,” he muttered, and Brian grasped Justin’s chin firmly and turned those tormented eyes up to meet his own.

“Tell me another word to use then, Justin, to explain how I feel about you,” Brian managed, and if it sounded like the words were choking him as they spilled out of his mouth, he was past caring.  “I’ve been trying to figure it out… what is it going to take for you to believe me?  Tell me what word you want me to use, and I’ll use it.”

Justin’s eyes flicked back and forth across Brian’s face; the confusion he felt was more than apparent, and as he flicked the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, Brian felt his own eyes flutter shut momentarily, and he tightened his grip on Justin’s chin before he bent his head to press his mouth against those soft, pillowy lips.  A hint.  A hint of warmth, and moisture, and the flavor and texture of the mouth he had missed so much.  A mere taste was all he got before Justin’s hands pushed firmly against his stomach, and the blond turned his head.  Milliseconds… and his fucking knees shook.  

“Don’t.”

It was a whispered plea.  Plain and simple.  And it broke his heart.  Brian closed his eyes as he took a steadying breath before he finally nodded.    

“At your pace, Justin,” he said finally, and when Justin tilted his head slightly to peer up at him, Brian managed to smile.  “I told you… I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

Justin stared up at him for a silent moment, before he shook his head.

“I gave you everything once, Brian.  I’ve got nothing left to give.”

Brian smiled slightly as he carded his fingers through Justin’s hair, and when he spoke, it was with quiet conviction.

“Your friendship, Justin.  I’d like to earn it.  I’d like to show you that you can trust me; that you can trust me to keep your father away from you.”

Justin’s eyes widened slightly, and Brian smiled again.

“It’s called a restraining order, Sunshine.  And if that doesn’t work?  You threaten to sue him for disownment; in many legal systems, it is considered a form of child abandonment and is against the law.  There are ways around having to face that prick.  But if you decide that you do want to confront him?  I will be there in that room with you; you won’t have to face him alone.”

Justin’s lips parted in surprise, and when his lashes fluttered briefly, Brian simply drew him back into his arms.  They stood there in silence for several minutes; Justin with his hands pressed lightly against Brian’s chest, and Brian with his arms wrapped firmly around that slim body.  But when Justin swayed on his feet, Brian turned towards the bed and gently guided him across the room and down into his nest of blankets. 

Straightening the blankets out, Brian brushed his hand through Justin’s hair as his boy stared up at him with tired eyes.  He remained silent as Brian walked around the end of the bed to pull the guardrail up on one side of Justin’s bed.  But when he came back around and eased himself down beside Justin in the narrow bed on top of the blankets, Justin’s voice echoed between them.

“What are you doing?”

Slipping his arm under Justin’s neck, Brian hushed him as he drew Justin into his arms.  Brushing his lips across Justin’s forehead, Brian finally spoke.

“I’m keeping the monsters away.”

Justin huffed softly after a minute, and Brian smiled.  It was something that Justin had said when Brian had found him sleeping with Gus and he had asked his blond why he had held Gus while he slept.  Justin finally sighed, and as he sank down into the loose embrace Brian had him in, he spoke quietly.

“There are a lot of monsters in my head, Brian.  You can’t fight them all.”

Brian nodded as he turned his head slightly and breathed in against Justin’s hair. 

“Maybe I can’t,” he said finally.  “But maybe I can help fight some.  Maybe we can fight them together.  Will you ever invite me to come to therapy with you?”

Justin snorted softly, and he peered up at Brian with a raised eyebrow.

“You… willingly to talk, Brian?” he asked softly, and then shook his head.

“That’s what your friends do in therapy, isn’t it?” Brian asked with a raised eyebrow of his own.

Justin shrugged, and Brian bit back a sigh as Justin’s warmth seeped into his body.  Closing his eyes, he smiled when he felt the jaw-cracking yawn that escaped Justin’s mouth, and he brushed his lips across Justin’s forehead again.

“Sleep,” he whispered.  “Tomorrow is a brand-new day, Sunshine.”

Justin merely nodded; for the next hour, Brian savored the fact that he was holding Justin in his arms again.  That his boy was letting him hold him; letting him card his fingers through all that soft, blond hair.  That he was hearing the soft, kitten snores that eventually began to echo between them when Justin finally went limp in his arms.  Tilting his head slightly, he stared down at the sleep-flushed face that was resting against his shoulder.

Easing himself out of Justin’s bed, Brian tucked Justin’s hair behind his ear; leaning down, he pressed his lips against the corner of Justin’s mouth, and then sighed as he pulled the blankets up around Justin’s nose the way he liked them.  Justin immediately wriggled further under his blankets, so that all that poked out were long strands of blond hair.  Brian grinned at the familiar action, and then carefully pulled the other guardrail up so that Justin wouldn’t fall out of bed.

Justin was stronger than he thought – than any of them had ever thought.  He had fought his way out of the darkness himself.  His bravery continued to amaze Brian; as that thought crossed his mind, Brian nodded slowly to himself.  Maybe he should take a page out of Justin’s book, and learn to be brave himself.  That way, if Justin ever trusted him again, if his lost youth returned to his side where he belonged, then he wouldn’t be scared to tell him how much he loved him.  And maybe, just maybe, he would hear Justin say it in return.        

*Atonement by Ian McEwan. I don’t own the rights to this book.  No copyright infringement is intended.