Chapter 6 - Confusion.

Confusion:  A lack of understanding; uncertainty.

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Brian's POV

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Okay - I’ve managed to get him fed and given him his meds. Now, what? I really suck at this caregiver shit. At least he seems a little better since he ate. I’d really like to get him to talk to me a little and explain what happened this morning - why he left. Weird, huh? Brian Kinney wants to ‘talk’? What the hell is the world coming to.

So far, the boy has said less than ten words to me. I don’t know why he doesn’t talk. He strikes me as intelligent - you’d have to be to survive on the streets at his age - and there’s something about the occasional spark in his eyes that tells me there’s a lot going on inside his little blond brain, but he just doesn’t seem to be able to let it all out. I can’t help wondering why. So, the next part of my plan is to try to get him to talk to me.

I grab his hand, ignoring the way he still flinches whenever he’s touched, and lead him to the sofa. He seems upset at first, looking back over his shoulder at the kitchen area. I let him pull his hand free and he immediately rushes back, picks up his bowl and the few serving utensils I’d been using and washes them by hand, setting everything on the counter to dry. Then he picks up a towel and wipes down the counter where we were sitting. Once he’s finished cleaning up after us, he moves back to stand by my side complaisantly, waiting for whatever I choose to ask of him. It’s eerie watching him - it’s like he’s compelled to clean up before he can do anything. I’m all for neatness, but this doesn’t seem right, somehow.

I set that thought aside to deal with another time. I hope that eventually, the mystery that is Justin Taylor will all come clear. For now, though, I just want to focus on this morning. Once he’s finished his self-imposed chore, he obediently follows me to the sofa and sits where I indicate, waiting for me to start.

“Justin, I think we need to talk. Is that okay?” He bites at his lip nervously when I say this, studiously looking at the carpet rather than at me and seemingly making his body smaller by folding in on himself. “Well, if you don’t want to talk, I guess that’s okay. I guess I’ll just talk then and if you want to comment, well, just join in when you’re ready."

“Do you understand that you’re really ill?” I ask, noting his small shrug of indifference. “You passed out the other day when you were with Emmett. The doctor said it was due to severe malnutrition, exhaustion and the onset of this cold you have. All three together are what’s causing you to feel so lousy. The doctor warned me that if we aren’t careful this cold could get worse and you could develop pneumonia. You just can’t keep going like this - if you go back out on the street before you’re well, you could die. That’s why I want you to stay here until you’re better. Do you understand?”

He shakes his head ‘no’. He’s let his head fall forward and his face is obscured by his long hair - it’s as if he’s trying to hide from me. I can tell from his body language though that he’s very upset by what I’ve said. I let my hand rest on his wrist - I feel like the sense of touch will help me make a connection with him.

“What don’t you understand, Justin?” I wait but he doesn’t answer. “Do you understand that you’re sick - that you have a cold?”

A nod.

“Do you understand that you’re malnourished because you haven’t been eating right for a very long time?”

Another nod, this time with another shrug.

“And that you haven’t been getting enough sleep - your lack of sleep is making it hard for your body to get well?”

Only a shrug this time.

“Well, it’s true. You need more rest in order to get well again. That’s what the doctor said, at least. I guess that you’re used to the lack of sleep, but you don’t normally have to fight off a virus at the same time either.”

What am I missing here? He obviously understands that he’s sick even if he doesn’t agree that he needs to get more rest or eat better in order to get well again. You wouldn’t think a street kid would object to getting fed on a regular basis or having a warm place to sleep. So what is it that he doesn’t get?  

I’d better hurry and figure this out, though, his eyelids are starting to droop with fatigue. Here I am trying to explain how he needs more rest, but keeping him up at the same time. I just feel like I won’t be able to rest until I understand what the problem is. Even hiding behind that sheet of long hair, there is something so compelling about this boy. He brings out this need to help him that I can’t, I don’t want to, avoid.

“What is it that you don’t understand, Sunshine,” I muse half to myself. “I just want to help you. I want you to get better.”

“That,” Justin’s response is so quiet I can barely hear him. “I don’t understand that. Why? I’m trash. I'm nothing.”

Ouch. His words cause me an actual, physical pain. It’s like a stab in my gut. He thinks he’s ‘nothing’? What happened to this boy?

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Justin's POV

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I’m glad that Brian finally stopped with all the talking. I don’t really like talking much. Plus, I’m tired again and even though the headache is gone, I still feel achy and sore. I just really want to sleep some more. He must see how tired I am because He gets up and takes me back to the bed and let’s me lie down again. I think I’m asleep before I’m even all the way lying down.

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Brian's POV

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I put him into bed and watch him sleep for the longest time. I bring in a chair from the other room so my presence won't disturb him. I sip at my third tumbler of JB while I ponder what he said to me earlier.  

He thinks he's 'trash'. Something to just throw away when you're done using it. But who would throw out a perfectly good sunshine?

When he's asleep he's abso-fucking-lutely beautiful. He's so peaceful. All the fear and pain I see in his eyes when he's awake is gone now. He's so pale, though. If it weren't for the slight wheezing caused by his cold I wouldn't be sure he was still alive.  

But even asleep he scares me. He makes me feel all these emotions that I've refused to acknowledge for a long, long time. I want to take care of him. I want to take away all that pain for him. I haven't even fucked him yet but I think I lo . . . I care about him a lot.

I don't even recognize myself. Where the fuck has Brian Kinney gone? Who the fuck is this sentimental twat crying into his drink over some pathetic little blond street kid? And how the fuck can anyone fix this?  

I need another drink.

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Justin's POV

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'You are a worthless piece of shit. You know that, right? I don't know why I even bother with you. I try to teach you - to show you how proper children are supposed to behave - but you are so fucking stupid you apparently can't even learn that. Can you? No, you can't. I work hard all day and when I come home I just want to relax and unwind and what do I find instead? This!'  

The letter from the school counsellor is crumpled in his hand and he's waving it in my face.  

'Now I have to go down to that school of yours and deal with some bleeding heart liberal, namby-pamby school counsellor who thinks she knows better than me how to raise my son. Bullshit. What the fuck does she mean that you're displaying signs of severe depression and anger management issues? Have you been acting out again? You are such a fucking waste of my time. You are so stupid you can't even manage to get along with a bunch of sixth graders? You stupid piece of shit. You waste of time piece of trash . . .'

'Dad, please, I didn't do anything. I promise. John Pierce was the one who started it. I didn't mean to get into trouble. Please don't be angry, Dad. I'm not worthless. I'm not trash. Please, Dad. I'll do better, please don't be angry."

'I'm so sick of seeing your lying piece of shit face right now, Justin. Just get the hell out of my sight. How can you keep doing this shit to your mother and me? Don't you think we have enough to deal with without your antics? Go to your room. I don't want to see or hear from you until Monday, you hear me? Don't you dare come out of that room til I tell you. You just sit in there and think about all the trouble you cause your mother and I.'

"Don't, Dad. Please don't lock me in my room. I'm so sorry. I promise I'll be better . . . No, Dad, please. No. Please let me out. Please. Please . . ."

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Brian's POV

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"Don't, Dad. Please don't lock me in my room. I'm so sorry. I promise I'll be better . . . No, Dad, please. No. Please let me out. Please. Please . . . "

This isn’t like the other nightmares. I can’t seem to wake him up. He keeps repeating that over and over. When I crawl into bed with him to try to hold him, I can feel that his skin is ridiculously hot. His fever is back. He’s shaking so violently it scares me.  

“Justin. Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhh, Justin . . . ,” nothing I’m saying or doing is helping - he’s stuck in this nightmare and he’s burning up with fever.  

Fuck leaving him in the bed this time - It’s back to my classic movie training. I drag the boy out of bed and carry him to the shower. I adjust the water till it’s barely lukewarm and sit with him under the spray - all his clothes still on since I never did get him undressed before. The water seems to be helping finally, though. I’m sitting on the shower floor holding him and rocking him and he finally stops crying out. He’s still shaking, but not as bad.  

He’s quiet now. He blinks up at me like he’s just waking up and can’t figure out where we are or why we’re in the shower with all his clothes on. He doesn’t seem all that upset anymore - I’m the one that’s freaking out now. I’m still holding him and rocking and whispering nonsense. “Shhh. It’s gonna be okay, Justin. It’s okay . . .”

He touches my cheek with his hand, lightly tracing my jawline and stroking his thumb across my lips to quiet me. He’s comforting me now? If I don't get a grip, I'm gonna be crying in about thirty seconds. I take a deep breath, reach up to shut off the water and stand up. Justin follows suit. I start to help him out of the soggy clothes, letting them drop to the tiles below. Then I pull a towel off the warming rack and carefully dry both of us off.  

I'm exhausted, but Justin won't come back to bed until he's picked up the wet clothes, deposited them in the hamper and hung the towels back on the rack. Then he compliantly follows me back to the bedroom and gets in bed when I pull back the covers for him. I crawl in too, curling myself around his back and holding him tightly, as if my feeble arms can protect us both from the demons that are haunting us.  

The door buzzer wakes me hours later. Justin is still asleep - after last night's nightmare, at least he slept quietly for the rest of the night. I think his fever has broken too, since his skin feels much cooler this morning.

Our visitors turn out to be Lindsey and Gus, bearing a shopping bag full of breakfast supplies. And, even better, coffee.  

"Morning, Bri," Lindsey greets me with a kiss on the cheek. "Gus and I came to check on your patient and see how he was doing. But, from the looks of you, maybe I was worrying about the wrong boy."

"It was a long night. Thank you for the coffee." I respond.

"And bagels. Here, take Gus and I'll get everything set up," Lindsey says, handing me a squirming three year old while she starts to putter in the kitchen. Gus has way too much energy for me this morning though so I quickly give up and put him down. I sit with my coffee and watch the tyke running around investigating every nook and cranny.

"So, why was it such a long night - or don't I want to know?" Lindz teases, waggling her brows in my direction.

"I wish it had been something you wouldn't want to hear about. Unfortunately, I was kept awake by the kid's nightmares," I admit. "I think I'm in way over my head, Lindz."

"I'm sure you're doing fine, Brian," Lindsey assures me. "I'm proud of you, you know. Trying to help this kid - nobody's sure why you're doing it, but it's a good thing."

"Fuck if I know why either, Lindz."

"Daddy, there's a boy named Jus'n in your bed. I told him we brought you guys breakfast and he said that was good because he's hungry. Can I take a bagel to him, Mommy?" Gus prattles as he runs back into the kitchen.  

"No, sweetie. Bagels are too messy to eat in bed," Lindsey answers. "Why don't you go tell Justin to come join us here and we'll all eat together in the kitchen."

"Okay. Be right back. Daddy, don't eat the sprinkle donut - I picked that one out special for me." Gus warns me as he runs back towards the bedroom.

"I promise not to eat your donut, Sonny Boy," I holler after the rapidly retreating small figure.

Five minutes later, Gus comes back, leading a bemused Justin by the hand. Gus is apparently telling Justin about his preschool class at the GLC. The whole class is working on an art project that they will auction off at the center's art show next week.  

"So we each get to put our hand prints on a tile and we get to decorate them too to make them look like flowers or animals or other stuff," Gus explains. "Then this guy that works at a 'scramic' store is gonna fire them - that doesn't mean he's gonna shoot at em with a gun, you know, it means he's gonna put all the tiles in a big oven and cook em - he 'sprained it all to us and we got to go to his store and look at the oven. I think it's called a 'kill 'em'."

"It's called a kiln," Justin corrects the babbling child.

"Yeah - that's right. A killen. I 'member, now. Anyway, after they're fired then Ms. Clark is gonna frame them all, special like and when its all done we're gonna sell it and use the money to build a new swing set for the playground. I can't wait. Do you like to swing?"

"Swings are okay, I guess," Justin answers as if he's seriously contemplating the question.

"Breakfast is ready, Gus. Come wash your hands and leave Justin be for a while so he can eat, too," Lindsey directs. "Sorry about that. I'm Lindsey, by the way," Lindz introduces herself to Justin, offering to shake his hand, but he just stands looking at her with that almost perpetually confused look on his face.  

Lindz glances at me, not sure if she's done something wrong. I shrug. I don't know what to tell her since I still haven't figured the boy out either.  

"Mommy, Jus'n's an artist like you," Gus explains as he leads Justin to a stool at the kitchen island and proceeds to tuck into the bagels Lindz places in front of him. "He likes to draw mostly, he said. I told him you like to paint. He said he's never got to paint much 'cause his Daddy thought it was too messy. You wouldn't mind if me and Jus'n painted though, would you Daddy? We'd be real careful and cover the floor so we wouldn't get the paint everywhere. Would it be okay, Daddy?"

"I suppose so, Sonny Boy. But not today, okay. Justin hasn’t been feeling too well lately and the doctor said he needs to get a lot of rest. So, let's plan on painting another day," I try to explain, letting Justin have a way out in case he really doesn't want to paint with Gus and was just humoring him.  

"Okay. I 'member when I was sick once and I had to stay in bed for two whole days. Don't worry, Jus'n, Daddy will take good care of you. When I was sick he brought me a new coloring book and he even stayed and read me a story. Did he read you a story last night?" Gus inquires.

"No. I was too tired last night for a story, Gus," Justin answers, smiling at Gus, and shocking me since this is the most words I've heard him say in one sentence yet.

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Justin's POV

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I wake up to find this cute little boy jumping on the bed. When he sees that I'm awake, he plops down in front of me sitting cross legged and tells me his name is 'Gus'. Then he asks me about a million questions in less than five minutes, never waiting for me to actually respond. The only thing he does want to know is my name and if I want a bagel - apparently he's here with his mother and they brought breakfast. I tell him my name and that, yes, I'm very hungry and I would love a bagel.  

Then he leaps off the bed and disappears without saying anything further.

By the time he comes back, I'm up and dressed. Gus holds my hand and pulls me after him towards the kitchen. He's busy telling me about an art project his class is doing. I tell him I like art too. He says his mother likes to paint. I tell him that I draw - I used to like to paint but I had to stop because my father didn't like all the mess.  

Gus is a sweet kid. He's easy to talk to - kids always seem easier to talk to than adults for some reason. I think it's because they don't have as many preconceptions.

It really surprises me that Brian has a kid, though. Gus' mother, Lindsey, seems nice but I just can't see her and Brian together. I wonder if they were married. They seem to be too good of friends to have ever been married, though. I just don't get it - I can't see Brian with a wife and a kid.  

Lindsey fixes me a bagel and I'm really hungry. I eat it right then even though I feel uncomfortable eating with all these strangers around. Gus eats only half his bagel, then offers the rest to me.  

I'm not sure I should take it. My father would have been angry if I ever left any food on my plate. You were supposed to eat what you were given and be thankful you got anything at all. If you didn't eat what you were given in my house, you probably wouldn't get anything at all to eat the next meal. Gus doesn't seem worried about not finishing his food though, so maybe it's okay. I try to watch Brian out of the corner of my eye to see if it looks like he would mind. I would really like more food but I just don't dare accept - I don't want to get Gus in trouble.

Lindsey is watching me as I sit there thinking about all this. She doesn't say anything to me though. Gus is still talking and talking. Neither Brian nor Lindsey seem to mind Gus talking during the meal. They don't even seem upset when he occasionally interrupts one of them. I'm not used to this kind of situation at all - it makes me uncomfortable but it would be rude to ask to leave so I just sit and wait.  

"Justin, would you like another bagel?" Lindsey asks after awhile. "There's plenty. If you want more, just help yourself."

Damn. Should I take another bagel? She offered it, but I don't know. Why is she being nice to me? What am I supposed to do here?

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Brian's POV

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Something is obviously bothering Justin. His easy manner, relaxed and talking comfortably with Gus, is gone all of the sudden. He's biting at his lip - a sign I've already come to understand means that he's confused or upset by something. What the fuck could be so confusing about eating breakfast, though?

Gus is the one who breaks the tension. He clambers down off the kitchen stool, walks around the island and takes the little white paper bag which holds his special sprinkle donut around to Justin. Gus puts the bag on the counter in front of the confused blond.  

"Here, Jus'n. You can have my sprinkle donut." Gus offers with his typical outgoing confidence.

Justin looks like he's moving into panic mode and I'm on the verge of intervening - Gus made a really huge gesture here and I don't want him to get hurt by Justin refusing. But I guess my concern is overblown since Gus handles everything with perfect aplomb.

"It's okay, Jus'n. You don't need to be scared. It's okay with you if Jus'n eats the donut, Daddy, isnt it?" Gus looks to me for approval, even though I'm not sure why.

"It's fine with me, Sonny Boy. But isn't that your special donut that you picked out just for you? Why are you giving it to Justin?"

"Because Jus'n is sad. I don't want him to be sad. Eating this pretty sprinkle donut would make me happy, so I want him to eat it instead and then he'll be happy." Perfect three year old logic.  

"That's very sweet of you, honey. You're being very generous," Lindsey offers the boy her support. "Daddy and I both think it's okay for Justin to have the donut. Go ahead, Justin. Please. You don't want to disappoint Gus, do you?"

Justin smiles shyly at Gus and slowly reaches for the donut. It's like he's still not sure if it's okay to eat it. What does he think - someone will get angry at him for eating a fucking donut. That seems to be what Gus thinks, though.

"Come here, Sonny Boy," I hold out my arms for the boy, who happily jumps into them, all smiles and confidence over his coup with the donut. "It was very nice of you to give your donut to Justin, Gus. That was such a kind, generous thing for you to do. I think you deserve a special reward for being such a good kid, don't you? What do you want, Sonny Boy, for your reward?"

"Brian, you don't have to . . .” Lindsey starts to intervene.

"I know I don't, but I want to Lindz. Come on, Mom. Let me spoil the kid a little," I beg.

"Fine. You do realize, Brian, that you are the biggest pushover ever, right?" Lindsey admonishes.

"I'm NOT a pushover. I'm a doting father. It's completely different, Lindz," I correct her. "So, Sonny Boy, how about we all go down to the Diner for second breakfast and you can get a replacement donut AND a milkshake to go with it?"

"Yay! Come on, Jus'n. Do you know about second breakfast? I love second breakfast - Gramma Deb always makes me a 'Stachio milkshake. She's kinda silly, but she's really nice too. You'll like her. Come on, Dad. You gotta get dressed so we can go. Come on!"

Thank you, Gus. Maybe I need to take 'Justin lessons' from you. You apparently understand more about this kid than your Dad.