“Are you sure you’re ready to go out?” Michael asked, as he hovered nervously around Brian.

“Will you stop fucking following me around while I get ready?”

“Sorry – but…”

“No fucking buts – at least not tonight.” He replied, laughing at his own joke. “I just need to get out, have a.. drink.”

“Are you even meant to be drinking with the medication you’re taking?”

“I swear to God, Mikey…”

Michael threw his hands in the air, “Okay – I’ll stop.”

“Thank you – now hand me my leather jacket and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

***

“So, where are we going?” Daphne asked as she climbed into the passenger seat of Justin’s car, leaning over and giving him a quick kiss hello.

Justin laughed, “I love how you get in anyway when you have no idea where we’re going.”

“I trust you...to take me somewhere fun that serves alcohol. Am I even remotely close?” She asked.

Justin nodded. “Yeah, we’re going to Woody’s – it’s a bar on Liberty Avenue. One of my patients recommended it.”

“Ooh nice.”

It was still early, and they were lucky enough to find a space just one block away from the bar. Once they pulled over, Justin pulled the visor down and began fixing his hair.

“Would you quit it already? You look fine,” Daphne laughed, as she finished applying her lip-gloss and smacked her lips together.

***

Later that night, Brian sat propped up on a bar stool nursing his third drink of the evening, listening to Emmett prattle on about… something or other. When they’d first arrived, he’d sent Michael off to the bar to order him a shot of beam, only for him to return with a bottle of Bud Light – that shit was too fucking light for him back in his college days, there was no way he was going to start drinking it now…that was then and this is now and three bottles later - it still tasted like shit, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to steer clear of the hard liquor while he was dosed up to his eyeballs on who the fuck knows what his doctor prescribed. Who knew prescription medicine could be so good?

By his fifth drink, he’d challenged Ben to a game of pool.

“Michael – this isn't a good idea,” Ben whispered, as he watched Brian struggle to stand up on his own.

“I know, but…”

After a couple of failed attempts, Brian finally got to his feet before he hopped over to the table.

He’d not thought this through, even chalking his cue was taking far more effort than it should, but he wasn't going to quit now.

“You go first.”

Ben nodded and took the first shot, pocketing two balls.

“Not bad.”

Now it was his turn – he placed the cue on the table, aligning it as best he could with one arm. Unsure of any other way he was going to be able to do this; he just pushed the cue as hard as he could with his good arm, causing one of the balls to jump up off the table.

“Shit””

“We don’t have to do this if it’s too much for you, Brian.”

Before Ben had opened his big mouth, he had considered laughing and walking away, but something inside him snapped – probably his sanity - and he decided to keep playing, despite the sharp pain shooting down his leg and the dull ache radiating through his shoulder.

Brian didn’t even acknowledge him as he lined up his next go and took his shot, pocketing another ball – but, leaning too heavily on his leg he buckled slightly, catching himself on the side of the table.

“AH FUCK!”

Michael moved as though he was going to help him, but Ben pulled him back. “Brian, maybe you should-”

Brian holds up a hand and takes a few deep breaths, “I’m fine.”

Michael and Ben look at each other, concern written on both of their faces, but they’re both smart enough (this time) to keep their goddamn mouths shut.

After a couple of seconds of breathing through the pain, Brian continued on with the game as though nothing had happened. He placed the cue on the table, picked up his crutches and made his way to the other side of the table. As he reached forward for the cue he felt something pop in his shoulder. His eyes glazed over as the pain shot through him like a lightning bolt.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

This time, Ben didn't hold Michael back as he ran over to help out his best friend.

“Are you…?”

Brian had not moved from where he was hunched over the table. “No, I'm not.”

He hated admitting that he needed help, but he knew that carrying on as though nothing was wrong would only do more harm than good.

Michael beckoned Ben over with his hand.

“Help me get him to a table.” He whispered, trying his best not to draw attention to what was going on.

Ben wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist and picked him up as gently as he could – walking him over to their table. Fortunately, the night was still young and the bar wasn't particularly busy so people weren't paying them much attention.

“Do we need to take you back to the hospital?” Michael asked nervously.

Brian shook his head. “No. I’ll be fine. I think I just overdid it.”

“Can I do anything?”

Brian stared at his friend before closing his eyes, what he really wanted to say was, “Yes; just leave me the fuck alone,” but, luckily for him, Ben sensed that Brian just wanted to be left alone for a little while and suggested they continue the game without him and for that he was grateful.

***

“What do you want to drink?” Justin asked as he threw his coat onto the empty stool next to him.

“Ohhh, get me a Sex on the Beach.”

“No,” Justin laughed, “I am not ordering that, pick something else.”

“Fine,” she sighed, “can you get me an Amaretto Sour…and some peanuts.”

While Justin waited in line at the bar to order his drinks, he overheard some people talking.

“Do you think he’ll be okay? He looked like he was in a lot of pain.”

“He said he was fine, Michael.”

“I know he said he was fine, but you saw the look on his face. He wasn’t fine.”

“I know, Michael, but he’s okay. Let’s just give Brian a little space. He’s been in the hospital for a month, he’s trying to figure out what he can and can’t do and he definitely doesn't need us hovering over him.”

“I know, but…”

“Michael…just leave him alone for ten minutes.”

Brian? It couldn't be…I mean, it would make sense…

Justin looked around, spotting him fairly quickly. He ordered his drinks and took them back to his table.

“Daph, here’s your drink,” he said, as he slid the glass towards her. “Do you mind if I go and say hi to someone real quick?” he asked.

“Go for it, I'm fine over here,” she said as she pointed to the game of Words with Friends on her phone.

“Brian?” He asked as he walked towards his table.

Brian looked up, his eyes weren't focussing properly on the blonde in front of him.

“Huh? Oh… hi…”

“Justin…”

“I remember your name,” Brian laughed, swaying slightly, “I just wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Have you hurt yourself?” Justin asked, ignoring what Brian had just said.

“What?... no. I'm just sitting here, enjoying my shitty beer.”

He could tell he’s lying and that he’d hurt himself by the way he was sitting holding his arm.

“What happened to your shoulder?” Justin asked as he stood back slightly to see if he could figure out what was wrong.

“Nothing, what happened to your shoulder?”

“How much have you had to drink, Brian?”

“How much have you had to drink?” Brian mimicked, wincing from the sudden movement.

“Okaaay. Listen, I'm going to need to check you out.”

This caused Brian to laugh. “I have no problem whatsoever with you checking me out, Sunshine.”

“Sunshine?” Jesus, how much has he had to drink?

“Who are you here with?”

Brian attempted to stand.

“Fucking shit!” he cursed, sitting back down heavily on the chair with the help of Justin. “My shoulder fucking hurts like a mother fucker.”

“Stay here, okay? I'm going to go talk to your friends. We need to get you home and look at your shoulder.”

Justin made his way over to Michael and Ben and explained who he was and that he thought it would be best they take Brian home – but only after he’d had a look to see if they needed to take him to the emergency room.

“Let’s get him to the car so you can take a look at him, I don’t think he’d appreciate you doing it here,” said Michael.

Justin agreed and went to tell Daphne what was going on.

Daphne shot back her drink, gathered her things, and joined Justin outside.

“You can wait in the car, it's cold,” offered Justin, as he gave her the keys. “I should only be a minute.”

“Okay.” She smiled.

By that time, Ben and Michael had managed to get Brian outside and were propping him up against their car.

He could tell just by looking at him that he’d dislocated his shoulder again. He was using his good arm to support his injured one.

“Alright, let me take a look at you,” Justin said. “I’m just going to feel your shoulder, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”

Justin lightly ran his fingers along his shoulder, feeling for anything that may be out of place.

“OW!” Fuck!”

“Sorry.”

He then curled his fingers around Brian’s wrist.

“What are you doing?” Brian asked as he tried to pull his hand back.

“I'm checking your pulse. Stay still… and be quiet.” He said that last part with a smile.

“You've definitely dislocated it again.”

“Do we need to take him to the ER,” asked Ben.

Brian groaned. “No, no we don’t need to take him to the ER. Can’t you pop it back in yourself?” He asked Justin desperately.

“It would hurt.”

“It fucking hurts anyway.”

“I really shouldn’t…”

Brian grabbed his shoulder with his good hand, “Argh! If you don’t, I will...”

Justin moved his hand away from his injured shoulder. “Don’t touch it,” he said as he ran his hands over his face and nodded. “Okay, can you guys get him into the car for me, and take him home. I’ll follow behind.”

He made his way to his car, hoping Daphne wouldn’t mind coming with him. He would drop her off, but he was actually rather pleased that she was there – it made the whole situation feel less… unprofessional.

****

Between both Michael and Ben, they managed to get an agitated Brian back to the loft with little trouble.

“He needs to lie down,” explained Justin as he took off his coat and threw it onto the empty kitchen counter as he walked in. “

“Couch or bed”? Asked Ben as he shrugged off Michael’s help to assist any further – he wasn’t helping much anyway.

“Bed,” muttered Brian.

Justin looked around the apartment – the coach was definitely too low for what he needed to do and the bed didn’t look much better. The wooden platform around the edge would make it difficult for him to manipulate Brian’s shoulder back into the correct position.

“Neither – Daph, grab a pillow from the bed for me,” he asked, giving his best friend something to do so she wasn’t just standing there. “We’re going to have to lay him down on the kitchen table.”

“What?” Brian and Michael responded in unison.

Ben just nodded as he wrapped his arm securely around Brian’s waist and led him towards the table.

Daphne returned with a couple of pillows and waited for Justin to instruct her with what to do next.

“I'm going to need you to sit down here for me, Brian. Then Ben’s going to help swing your legs up. Does that sound okay?” Justin asked as he patted the table.

Brian just nodded and did as he was told – Justin could tell that if he wasn't in as much pain as he was, he’d not have been nearly so amenable.

“I'm going to need to take your shirt off for this. Ben, can you give me a hand?”

Ben went straight to work on Brian’s shirt buttons before slipping his shirt carefully over his injured shoulder.

“Careful with his leg,” Justin warned, as he helped lay Brian down on the table, adjusting his body so that his injured arm and shoulder were hanging over the edge of the table while the rest of his body was supported.

One of the benefits of being friends with someone for a long time was that you knew what the other person was thinking without actually having to say it out loud– and that’s what Daphne did when she looked at Justin.

“Justin, if you don’t need our help anymore, maybe we should wait outside?” she suggested.

“Thanks, Daph,” he smiled. This wasn't going to be easy for Brian – manipulating his shoulder back into place was going to hurt… a lot, and he didn't much care for an audience while doing it. Something he thought Brian would probably agree on.

“I’ll stay,” said Michael as he stood rooted to the spot as the others had begun to file out.

Brian hissed out in pain as he turned to look at his best friend. “Michael, just wait outside with everyone else.”

“Brian,” he whined.

“Michael, please,” he was in no mood to argue.

“We’ll be right outside, and I promise you he’s in good hands with Justin,” Daphne reassured him as she walked over and took his arm and led him out the door.

When it was just the two of them Justin smiled down at Brian. “Last chance, you sure you don’t wanna go to the ER?”

Brian shook his head, the pain and alcohol making him dizzy.

“Alright. Do you want anything to bite down on?”

“If I wasn't…” he hissed, “in so much… fucking…pain…I’d…have a good…answer for that.”

Justin laughed. “I'm sure you would. But seriously, it might help.”

“No, just do it.”

“Okay. I want you to take deep breaths for me,” instructed Justin as he bent down to remove his shoes. Brian looked at him questioningly. “You’ll see,” he smiled as he held Brian’s hand and laced their fingers together and placed his socked foot on the side of Brian’s torso to provide added leverage as he pulled the shoulder back into place. “Here we go.”

Brian moaned out in pain as Justin began pulling on his arm, using a slow and steady pull.

“Shit!”

Brian threw his good arm over his face and covered his eyes.

“Move your arm.”

“I can’t, you’re fucking pulling on it,” Brian breathed out.

“Not that one,” smiled Justin. “I need to see your face when I’m doing this.”

Reluctantly, Brian removed his arm and Justin could see the tears in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Justin apologised as he continued providing constant tension on the arm, stretching the shoulder muscles. “We’re nearly done.”

“Fuckkkkkkkkkkk!”

In the end it took a couple of minutes, but eventually, they both heard a loud pop and Brian’s shoulder slipped back into place.

The relief was instant and Brian felt like he could finally breathe properly again.

“You okay?” Justin asked as he supported Brian’s arm as he helped him sit up.

“Yeah, I…” As Brian sat up, he was hit by a sudden rush of dizziness. “Shit.”

“We’re going to need to ice it and put it back into a sling.”

“Can we come back in yet?” Michael called out, who by the sounds of it had had his ear pressed up against the door waiting for them to finish.

“Yes, Mikey… you can come back in.”

As soon as they came back into the loft, Michael was all over Brian.

“Is he alright? He looks a bit pale… I thought you were supposed to fix his shoulder and make him feel better?”

Before Justin could reply, Ben stepped in and peeled his boyfriend’s hands off of his best friend.

“Michael, take it easy.”

“I'm just saying, he doesn't look that great.”

“Mikey, I'm fine. In fact, you guys can go.”

“Brian…”

“Honestly, Mikey. I’m fine. I’ll probably just go to bed soon anyway.”

“If you’re sure,” asked Ben, already herding Michael out of the door.

Daphne ran out after them. “Could you guys give me a lift home?”

“What about Justin? How come he gets to stay?” Michael could be heard saying as he was piled into the elevator by Ben.

When the two of them were once again alone, Brian spoke up.

“You didn't have to stay. I can manage by myself.”

“I know you can, but we still need to ice your shoulder and strap it up.”

“Oh…”

“Do you have any ice packs?” Justin asked, as he walked towards Brian’s freezer and pulled it open - smiling at the large array of Tupperware containers full of frozen food. “Ah, it’s okay. I found one… under the pile of lasagne and gnocchi.”

Brian laughed. “Michael’s mom…she likes feeding me. I'm apparently too skinny.”

Justin’s eyes subconsciously roamed Brian’s body. “I think you look fine…” He cleared his throat quickly before Brian could respond, wrapping the ice pack in a dish cloth before placing it on his shoulder.

“You’re lucky. You have good friends.”

“Hmm?”

“Your friends, they seem really nice.”

“They are – but…”

“But what?” Justin asked as he moved the ice pack slightly – needing to do something with his hands before they formed a mind of their own.

“They won’t leave me alone. Especially since I got home from the hospital… How am I supposed to know what I can or can’t do if they won’t let me try?”

“I understand…”

“Do you, though?” Brian asked bitterly. “I know you see this shit day after day, but do you know what it’s like to have people not want to leave you the fuck alone in case you fall over while taking a shower? Or insisting on standing guard while you get dressed? Or-”

“I do actually. Listen,” Justin said as he jumped up onto the table next to Brian. “I know how hard it is when you’re injured and you’re told to take things easy. You want to race ahead and get back to the way things were before – but that takes time. It took me over a year to recover… and luckily for you, it shouldn’t take that long. Just… be patient and know it's okay to ask for help.”

“Yeah…”

“It gets better. I promise.”

Brian wasn’t sure why he couldn’t stop himself from talking and saying the things he was saying. It must be a side effect of mixing his medication and alcohol… “I bet… I bet it helps having your boyfriend around, though?”

Justin smiled briefly before looking away. “I guess…But… I got to where I am mostly on my own. I had… I had a really hard time accepting help… from anyone. “

He jumps off the table, removing the ice pack and carefully fits places Brian’s arm into the sling.

“And…he wasn’t around when it happened anyway. Even now, I have bad days and it’s something he’s tried really hard to understand, but he can’t. And that’s probably my fault. I should have let him help me like he wanted to when we first got together – but I was too fucking proud.”

Brian remained silent and Justin reached over and placed his hand on Brian’s.

“Just...take it easy, alright? Let people help you. I wish I had.”

Clearing his throat, Justin quickly pulled his hand away. What the fuck was he doing? He seemed intent on breaking every rule in the book tonight. “I should… I should probably get going. I’ll see you tomorrow at your appointment?”

Brian nodded and watched as Justin grabbed his coat and exited the loft hastily.

***

Brian lay in bed, unable to sleep. His arm ached – in fact, his entire body ached but he wasn’t due his pain medicine for at least another hour.

He laughed to himself as he reached across to the bottle of beam he kept by his bed and took a gulp – for some reason, in his fucked up mind, drinking while on pain medication was somewhat acceptable, but taking more than the recommended dose was not.

“Fuck it,” he said, as he reached for his phone and hit speed dial. He’d not wanted to do this, he still didn't want to do this – he shouldn't have to do this, but he couldn't get Justin’s words out of his head. Let people help you.

“Hey! Leave a message.”

Brian waits for the answer he knows isn't going to come because he’s talking to his boyfriend’s fucking voice mail and not to the actual man himself. Doesn't he deserve that, though? An answer? A fucking explanation as to why he’s laying in bed by himself. Had he done something to piss him off? He thought they were good – no, they were good before… before the accident. Was that why? Was he really that disgusting to be around now?

“Listen, I just...I just want to know what the hell is going on. You owe me that. I'm out of the hospital. I'm home now. Our home. But you’re not. You...you knew I was coming home. Deb… Deb said she told you. Yet you’re not here.”

He closed his eyes tightly to stop the room from spinning. The drink seemed to be going to his head faster than normal tonight. Making him feel – when all he wanted to do was not feel anything at all. To drown his sorrows and forget.

“So instead of having my fucking partner here for me, I'm by myself drinking a bottle of Beam like I did before I met you. Things weren't that great then and they sure as hell aren't great now. I...I need you here. I need help. There. I said it, alright? So just come over or at least call me back.”

With a sigh, Brian hangs up the phone and tries to get in a comfortable position to rest, just for a little bit. When he gets to as close as comfortable as he can get, he ignores the lump in his throat, lets his eyes close, and tries to ignore the pain in his shoulder and in his chest by thinking of blonde hair and blue eyes instead.