Chapter 12 - Getting Back to The Living.
Time seems to behave strangely here in the hospital. Whole days seem to slide by unnoticed. Then, some small trivial happening will pop through to my consciousness for a brief time before another large block of time disappears. I'm sure this is partly due to whatever medications they're giving me. I think they're sedating me - I vaguely remember getting a little violent a couple times, but I don't really remember why. At least I'm no longer restrained in my bed. Mikey brought me some clothes and I'm allowed to walk around now.
Right at this moment I'm still sitting on my bed though, watching through the window at the streams of cars driving by on the freeway. My revery is disturbed though by the familiar voices in the hallway. I didn't know Mikey was coming by today, but that's definitely his voice. I can't help but listen, but even then, the words don't seem to really register completely.
"Are you sure about this, Doctor? I just don't know if it's such a great idea. Brian barely even knows this kid. They only met the night before he had his breakdown. Why would Brian care so much about this one trick?" Michael is complaining, as usual.
"I don't know why he's so concerned about this one man. The human mind is quite complex and I wouldn't presume to tell you I understand why it causes some people to do the things they do," Richards' voice replies in his typical 'I'm a doctor and therefore know so much more than you' tone. "But, we've talked about this. Brian is fixated on this man. He talks about him almost constantly. I think it's important for his recovery for Brian to see him. Maybe then we can piece together a bit more about why this has happened and hopefully help your friend to recover."
"Fine. I just don't understand any of this. One day Brian's fine, and then the next he's . . . like this. It's just hard to see him this way, you know," Michael sounds so sad, and I'm sure it's my fault, which would make me feel guilty if I still had any real feelings left.
"I know it's been difficult, but maybe this will help," the doctor advises, effectively quashing any further objections from Michael. "Why don't you two wait in the lounge and I'll bring Brian out."
Doctor Richards comes into my room then, and tells me I have visitors waiting in the lounge. I follow him, not because I really care about seeing Mikey, but because it's the easiest thing to do. I mostly do as I'm told here, since deciding what to do on my own is far too tiring. As it is, I feel half asleep pretty much all the time anyway.
But when we get to the lounge, I'm instantly awake and alert. That's because the first person I see when we enter is Justin. He's here. I can't believe he's actually here. Of course, I have no idea what to say to him, but that doesn't matter, just so long as I can see him and maybe even touch him?
"Justin." I say his name reverently.
"Hey, Brian," he says right away, smiling at me with that heartbreakingly beautiful smile. "You look good. I wasn't sure if you'd . . ."
He falters, clearly uncomfortable and not knowing what to say either. He looks aside at Michael for encouragement but Mikey just shrugs, then gets up and walks off. It's almost too much, just seeing him after all this time and I'm not sure I won't break down into a sobbing mess. But, I don't want to - I don't want to drive him away. I have to somehow pull myself together enough to keep Justin here a little longer.
"I'm glad you came, Justin. I . . . " I start but don't know how to end my sentence - I love you, I miss you desperately, I want to fuck you so badly right now my balls ache - all seem somehow wrong.
"I've wanted to come visit for a while now, Brian," Justin rescues me and the conversation easily. "I've been really worried about you. I ran into Lindsey and Mel on Liberty Avenue a few weeks ago and they've been keeping me updated on how you're doing. Oh, yeah, before I forget, I brought you something."
He hands me a scroll of sketch paper tied with a ribbon which I open. The picture inside is one I've seen before - Lindsey holding Gus in her arms. It's a beautiful sketch and seeing Gus makes me almost want to cry.
"It's wonderful. Thank you, Justin. How is Gus? I can't see him here - they don't let children visit. Is he doing okay?" I ask, grasping at conversational straws.
"He's perfect. God, he's growing so fast though. You'll be amazed when you do get to see him at how big he's getting. . . " Justin says then proceeds to tell me everything he can about Gus and the girls and everything else.
We simply talk after that and it's refreshingly easy. He tells me about Daphne and school. He tells me about the antics Molly has been up to lately. I ask about his art and he tells me proudly about Lindsey getting him a spot in the GLC art show. Talking to him just feels good and real and not difficult. I almost feel alive again. And, when he moves to sit next to me on the couch so he can show me some photos of Gus that he has on his phone, I put my arm around his shoulders and I relax for the first time in weeks. I think I even smile a little while we look at the photos.
All too soon, though, Michael and the doctor come back and interrupt us. The doctor says that that's enough of a visit for now and he doesn't want to overtire me. I want to protest but Justin's already getting up and preparing to leave.
I suddenly can't breathe right. I feel like there are steel bands around my chest that are crushing my lungs and preventing me from getting enough air. I'd ask for help but I can't get enough oxygen to form words. Michael is talking to the doctor a few feet away so they probably wouldn't hear me anyway. Justin sees, though, and he must somehow understand. He comes over to me immediately, reaches for my hand and pulls me up to stand next to him. He puts his arms around me and he squeezes me tightly, tilting his face up so our lips meet briefly. I can breathe again after that.
"It's going to be okay, Brian. I'll come back again on Friday. I promise," Justin whispers and then kisses me fiercely once before turning to follow Michael and the doctor out through the doors of the closed ward.
After that I start to be alive again. Justin comes to see me every Tuesday and Friday right after school. I spend most of my time counting the hours till his next visit. He brings me pictures of Gus, drawings, even food to try to tempt my appetite since he says I've lost too much weight. But more importantly, he brings himself. I get to see him, touch him, smell him and I know he's okay, which helps me to be okay. I get other visitors too - Debbie, Lindsey, Michael - but the only visits that I couldn't live without are with Justin.
Eventually my four months of insured inpatient care are up. My health insurance won't pay for further inpatient care and I'm told I'm being released at the end of the week. Doctor Richards isn't happy because I'm still refusing to talk to him or any other therapist about what happened to bring me here. I have actually talked through a lot of shit about my family and my crappy childhood with Richards, so the stay hasn't been completely wasted. But, if I ever want out of here, I know not to bring up the whole time traveling thing. I've heard very bad things about long term mental health facilities and I'm not interested in landing in one - which just might happen if I were to try to convince Richards that the trauma I suffered causing my 'breakdown' occurred in another time/space/dimension.
I'm not completely sure I want to return to the loft all alone, though. What will I do all day? I don't think I'm ready to go back to the stress of the advertising business. I still have another six weeks of disability insurance so I don't have to go back to work right away. But if I don't, what will I do? I've never NOT worked - at least not since I was fifteen and got my first part time job. I don't do daytime television and I have no hobbies, unless you count fucking as a hobby.
I guess Justin can tell something is wrong when he arrives on Tuesday. He asks me at least a dozen times what's wrong before I tell him about getting released on Friday. He thinks it's wonderful. He prattles on for at least ten minutes talking about how great it will be when I'm out of here and the things we can do together outside before he sees that I'm not as enthusiastic about the prospect. With that amazing sense of intuition he has, it only takes a couple of seconds, once he does notice my reticence, before he puts it all together and knows precisely what the problem is.
"Oh! Shit. You can't go back to the loft all alone," Justin exclaims.
"Where else would I go," I ask, and for once I'm not even being facetious, because I really would like to know if he has another idea.
"I didn't mean you can't go back to the loft. I just mean that you can't go there alone. It would be just too big and empty with only you there all the time," he says and then falls silent for a time, clearly thinking hard.
Justin is subdued for the rest of the visit and I feel bad that I've worried him. I'll be fine. I've been alone almost my entire life and I've done just fine. Well, mostly fine, up until the last few years/lives, that is. But, Justin shouldn't have to worry. None of this is his fault.
"What time are you being released on Friday," he asks right before he leaves for the day.
"I don't know. Probably in the morning sometime, I'd guess," I answer.
"I'll be here. Don't leave until I get here, okay?" Justin says as he kisses me lightly on the lips, which he always does before he goes.
"You have school, though?"
"I can miss one day, Brian. Just don't leave till I get here, promise?"
And I promise him, of course. It's Justin and I never have been able to deny him anything. Why would I start now?
Friday morning arrives and so do Michael and Debbie. They help me pack up the few personal items and clothing I have here at the hospital. Then we wait for the doctor to sign off on my release and then we wait some more for the pharmacy to fill all my medication prescriptions. Then there's nothing else to do and they want to get going. But I promised to wait so I just sit there.
Justin shows up right when Michael is starting to get unmanageable. He's got a large duffle bag with him, along with his usual messenger bag. He's also sporting a darkening bruise on his face and a cut on his lip.
"Sunshine! What the hell happened to you, Baby?" Debbie is the first to exclaim at the unwelcome sight.
"It's nothing, Deb. I just got in a fight. I'm fine," Justin says, predictably trying to avoid the subject. "Sorry to keep you waiting, though. Ready to go, Brian?"
I'm ready, now that he's here. I let myself be trundled out of the hospital wing and downstairs where we wait at the front entrance while Michael brings my Jeep around. Then we all pile in and before you know it I'm back at the loft.
I'm not really sure what emotions are going through me as we ride up in the elevator and then as Michael unlocks and opens the door. I'm glad to be home, I guess, but I'm also afraid for some reason. I don't have anywhere else that I want to be though, so I follow the rest of them inside and look around at the big empty place.
"We did some shopping for you yesterday, Sweetie," Deb is saying, opening the fridge door to reveal that it's fully stocked. "I didn't know if you'd feel up to coming to the Diner or not, not right away at least, but you have to remember to eat. Are you sure you don't want to come stay with me for a little while, Brian?"
"I'll be fine, Debbie," I tell her for the umpteenth time that morning.
Michael and Debbie putter around in the loft for several more minutes. I just sit calmly on a stool at the kitchen island watching them and waiting. Justin's sitting next to me, not saying much either. He holds my hand, though, and smiles at me a lot.
I'm getting the distinct impression that Justin has plans for me as soon as the Novotny's leave, and I'm more than willing to put those plans into action - it's been a long, long four months. I haven't gone this long without sex since I was fourteen. All I can think about right now is getting Justin naked and into my bed. I think Justin's thinking about the same thing. And, when the tip of his pink tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip seductively I moan aloud. Deb at least gets the message at that point and quickly bundles Michael out, both of them kissing me goodbye as they leave, with many hurried directions about not forgetting to eat and calling if I need anything.
The second the door clangs shut, Justin leaps off his chair and onto me. We've kissed and petted a bit during his visits at the hospital, but we were never alone like this before so there was never the opportunity for more. It feels so marvelous to have him in my arms now, his body pressing urgently against mine. His lips are everywhere, kissing, licking, biting at my neck and my jaw and then my mouth. He always did have the softest, most sensual lips on the planet.
"I've been wanting to do this for so fucking long," Justin says finally, smiling up at me as his hands find my zipper and start to undo my pants. "Every time I was at the hospital all I could think about was wanting to suck your dick, Brian. Shit. It's still just as fucking beautiful as I remember."
That's the end of the conversation for a while though. Justin gracefully sinks to his knees and before you know it his mouth is around my dick and he's sucking and licking and I'm in fucking heaven. Maybe that old saying about absence making the heart grow fonder is true, because after four months of neglect, my dick is simply loving this. I love it too, relishing the feel of Justin's soft hair playing between my fingers, his warm mouth on my cock and his firm hands gripping around my thighs. Fuck, I missed him so fucking much.
Needless to say I only last about two minutes - its been a really long time, you know, and jerking off alone in a hospital bed is no substitute for a Justin Taylor blow job. I cum long and hard, shooting over and over, and I'm a little amazed how hungrily Justin laps it all up. I guess he was as needy for this as I was after all.
When he finally rises, wiping at his lips, they’re fixed in a huge grin. But I notice immediately that something is wrong. There's a thin trickle of blood coming from where his split lip has opened up again.
"Justin, you're hurt," I say, reaching for a nearby kitchen towel.
"It's nothing, Brian," he says, wiping away the trace of blood. "Really. Stop looking all concerned. It's just a split lip. I'll survive."
"So, are you going to tell me what really happened?" I ask him as he tosses the towel away once the bleeding has stopped.
"Nope. At least not till you've fucked me. I'm not wasting all this uninterrupted Brian time on talking. I've been waiting four months for you to fuck me, Brian. So," he says as he pulls his shirt over his head and starts to unbutton his jeans, "do you want to talk, or what?"
His jeans puddle at his feet and he kicks out of them easily. I note with pleasure that he's not wearing underwear. I opt for the 'or what' immediately, moving towards him and indulging myself by letting my hands roam over all of that perfect creamy skin. His hard, thick dick is jutting out proudly in my direction and I have a very tough time not sinking to my own knees and worshiping him accordingly. But that's not what Justin wants. He wants me to fuck him, to fill him up and take possession of him. I can definitely do that.
We make it back to the bedroom and Justin sprawls on the bed, lying there on display for me while he strokes himself, waiting not so patiently for me to get rid of my clothes. As soon as I'm naked, he reaches up and gently pulls at my dick to lead me towards him. Fuck it. He can lead me around by the dick anywhere he wants.
Especially if where he wants me is on top of him. Which is where I finally end up, kneeling between his thighs, his legs wrapping themselves around me and pulling me towards him even more. I only have time to get the condom on and apply a bare minimum amount of lubrication before he's guiding me into him without any other preparation. I know it's going to hurt him, but he's too greedy and impatient and he won't let me pull back.
"Please, Brian. I need you right, fucking now. Don't stop, please." I hear him moan.
So I comply with his demands and let myself slide into his tight, warm depths, going as slowly as I can, until I'm all the way in as deep as I can get. I hear him hiss in pain but he's moaning and bucking up into me at the same time. Then he's tapping at my hip, ordering me to move.
It feels so fucking amazing and it's been so long since I've had Justin. I can't really keep myself to the slow and gentle pace I'd planned. Instead, I grip tightly onto his hips and fuck him hard, thrusting into his ass as deep and fast as I can, over and over. All rational thought has escaped me. I just keep ramming into him. He's not complaining though and I can feel him arching to guide me deeper and take more of me into him.
It's over much too soon though. Justin cums without me even touching his dick. One minute he's just there and I feel ropes of thick sticky cum drenching my chest as his ass contracts tightly around my cock. That drives me over the edge as every nerve cell in my body fires instantaneously, my mind goes blank and I freeze while my own cum fills the condom. Then I collapse onto the slim sated body beneath mine, revelling in the sensation of his legs slowly sliding down my hips and his arms trailing down my back till we both relax into one big heap of fucked out flesh.
I start to roll off him then, sure that my weight is crushing him. He stops me, though, holding me to him tightly.
"I hate it when you pull out, Brian. I wish you could stay inside me forever," Justin murmurs as he nuzzles tenderly at my ear. "When you're inside me I feel complete. Whole. And when you pull out I feel so empty and abandoned. Please. Just stay for a while longer."
I wish I could stay inside him forever, too. I need this connection even more than Justin does. I wish I could feel complete and whole again. But, after everything I've been through, I'm feeling more empty than you can imagine. Being home, in bed with Justin, helps a lot, but I still feel so vulnerable and raw. I don't feel complete.
I know what I need, but it's hard to bring myself to ask for it. All those years of conditioning, working hard to be the Stud of Liberty Avenue and keeping my reputation intact, kind of skew your perspective. But I remind myself that I haven't been that person in several lifetimes now. I shouldn't let the person that I once was control the life of the person that I am now. I've always said there's nothing wrong with getting your needs met . . . And this Brian Kinney needs to be taken care of and wants to be made whole.
"Justin," I say when I finally do pull out, grabbing another condom and tentatively handing it to him.
But I can't say it. Instead I show him what I need by rolling onto my stomach and pulling a pillow over to brace under my hips. I hear his breath catch and then I can feel his hand caressing slowly down my back and over my ass and down my thigh. I spread my legs further apart to give him better access and then I sigh when I feel him moving to cover me with his strong, slight form, his hand already coated in lube and gliding up to work at my hole.
Justin's a good lover. He's gentle and goes slowly at first until I've adjusted. He's right, too, about how good it feels to be filled like this. I love the sensation of his thick, hard cock up my ass making me feel claimed and wanted. Right then I'm needed and, yes, whole. But it doesn't last for long because, as he was complaining before, I just feel abandoned again when he's forced to pull out.
Afterwards, I'm lying with my head on his chest, his arms draped casually around me. Somehow we've switched roles. He's become my protector now. I don't hate it, but it does feel strange. I shake off my uneasiness though because I don't want to ruin this near perfect moment.
"When do you have to leave," I finally ask, noting that somehow the time has flow by and it's getting late, the early winter sunset not far off.
"Never," he says with a defiant air. "I'm staying here. For as long as you need me. That's what the duffle bag is all about. Unless, that is, you don't want me to stay . . ."
"Of course I want you to stay, but how . . ." I ask, moving so I can see his face better.
"I didn’t want you to have to come back here alone. And I knew you would never agree to go stay with Deb or Lindsey. So, I . . . well, I told my parents last night that I was gay and that I was coming to stay here with you for a while," he blurts out, all in one breath.
"You did what?" I'm just a little shocked by his announcement, although I'm sure I'm not nearly as shocked as his parents had been the night before. "What did they say? Are you okay with all this? Fuck. This is huge, Justin. You didn't have to do this for me. I would have been fine."
"I didn't do it just for you. I did it for me. They were going to have to find out sometime, right? Now's as good a time to come out to them as any, I figured. They didn't take it all that well, though. At least my dad didn't. Mom just seemed a little shocked. But dad got . . . well, let's just say he's in denial and leave it at that."
"He hit you?" I say, half question and half plain statement.
Justin shrugs. "It's not that bad, really. He just slapped me. I probably deserved it, I was kind of mouthing off."
"What did you tell them about me?" I can't help but be curious.
"I told them you were a successful ad executive. That I'd met you several months ago and we'd been seeing each other ever since - I didn't want to get into the whole hospital thing with them, you know. But I did tell them that you'd been sick and that I wanted to come stay with you until you were better. I think that's what my mother objected to more than anything. But I pointed out that I was eighteen now and I didn't really need their permission."
"Hmm. I'm sure that went over well. I had a similar conversation with Jack once. It ended with me getting tossed out of the house if I remember correctly,"
"Sounds like my father and yours would get along just great," Justin laughs humorlessly. "My dad said that I could come stay with you if I liked, but then I needn't bother coming home again. Oh, and he used a lot of unpleasant epithets like fairy and faggot and pervert. That's when I called him some names back and he slapped me. Then he and Mom started fighting, too. I just wanted out of there at that point, so I packed up a bag and went to Daphne's for the night."
"Shit. I'm sorry, Justin. That sounds even harsher than usual. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Especially now," he says, squeezing me tighter. "I'm sure Mom will work on him and they'll eventually come around. I probably should have eased them into the whole gay thing a bit more gradually. But it's done and I can't take it back. And now I can stay and take care of you and I don't have to worry about my stupid parents or their hang ups. I'm all yours for the foreseeable future."