Chapter 31 - Dissolution.
“Ssshhhh. It's okay, Brian. Sshhhh. You're okay. It was just a bad dream. I'm here. Sshhhh...”
The reassuring words gradually crept into Brian's consciousness, pulling him out of the nightmare. He was panting, beads of sweat dripping down his temples, and his heart was racing a mile a minute. He blinked his sleep-encrusted eyes, trying to focus, a task made more difficult by the hazy, pre-dawn light filtering through the loft’s windows.
After a moment or two, the dream images of an enraged Jack Kinney looming over him were replaced by the sight of a worried, young, blond man looming over him. Instead of slapping him, though, the blond was carding his fingers through Brian's hair and whispering comforting nonsense words. Brian swallowed hard, took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. But the dregs of his dream were only partially dissipated by the effort. He couldn't completely shake the specter of his nightmare no matter how desperate he was to erase the image of himself physically turning into his father as he snarled down at a crib where a small boy cowered. It was the most horrific scene he could imagine, and one that had been haunting him more and more often as the end of Lindsey’s pregnancy neared.
“Stop it, Brian!” Justin ordered inexorably.
“Stop what? I'm just lying here,” Brian grumbled crankily.
“You're thinking, and that's always a dangerous thing. Especially considering the crappy mood you've been in lately,” the spirit guide warned. “Knowing you, you've probably already worked yourself up into believing that you're doomed to become an axe murderer just because you once saw it in a movie,” he added in an attempt to interject a tiny bit of humor.
“Fuck you, Sunshine,” Brian growled back, not in any mood for humor in any quantity.
“Seriously, Brian, you have to stop worrying about this shit. It’s gonna give you ulcers. Or worse - wrinkles,” Justin persisted with a sly smile.
The joking was, unfortunately, having the opposite of its intended effect on Brian, who was starting to seethe at his companion’s condescending attitude. “Yeah, well, screw you and screw your fucking wrinkles,” Brian ordered, rolling away from the concerned face looking down on him with its own wrinkled brow full of worry, which, in turn, only fueled Brian's anger more. “Get the hell out of my head and out of my business. I don’t need your fucking pity. Pity makes my dick go soft.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we,” Justin teased, scooting up closer behind Brian and reaching around with one hand to rub at the substantial mass of throbbing morning wood that was waiting just under the Egyptian Cotton sheet.
Despite his determination to stay mad, Brian couldn't resist the pleasurable sensations Justin was evoking. He moaned and his hips tilted forwards involuntarily as he gave in to the caresses. At the very least, this was much more enjoyable than talking or thinking about his lingering fear of the future. Little by little his mind began to drift away from the bitter dream images of pain and fear, leaving only a wash of pleasure in their wake.
“Mmmm. You're so hard,” Justin purred as he fisted Brian's substantial erection, which was now leaking so profusely that a large portion of the sheet was damp. “There, now isn't that better? I definitely prefer to have you dreaming about fucking me, rather than dreaming about fighting off your father. Don't you?”
Justin realized he'd said the wrong thing less than two seconds after the words left his lips. Brian's body instantly stiffened while his erection noticeably flagged. The aura of relaxed intimacy that had just started to blossom around them evaporated. The spirit boy bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood, trying to hold back the curses that would only make things worse. Why the fuck did he have to open his big, damn mouth and remind Brian of the very thing that was causing him to be stressed out in the first place? If it had been physically possible, Justin would have kicked himself in the ass.
Brian, meanwhile, had been thrown right back into that same negative headspace he'd started with. Unbidden, the dream image of himself standing over a baby’s crib and screaming down at a scared little boy popped back into the forefront of his mind. And that image drove out all other thoughts, especially thoughts of happiness or pleasure. It was that image that caused his gut to clench.
Because it wasn't Jack that Brian fought in his dreams these days - he fought himself and the monster he feared he'd become someday - which was far more horrific than anything Jack had ever done to him.
However, lying there with that image metaphorically staring him in the face was simply too much. Brian didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to escape.
The weeks of tension finally caught up with him and the stress overwhelmed him. He had to do something to release the pressure. Something. Anything. And the only thing he could think of to do right at that moment, lying there naked in bed, was to fall back on his usual method of pain management. Luckily he had a willing body to work out his feelings on right there.
Brian twisted around, grabbed Justin and rolled them both over, using his weight to pin the slighter body beneath him. The move freed his hands so that he could capture Justin’s wrists and yank them up over the boy’s head. Justin didn’t resist. He only blinked up at an aggressive Brian who proceeded to devour the younger man’s coral pink lips with an almost savage kiss. The kiss served the dual purpose of stifling any more discussion and distracting Brian from his morose thoughts. After several minutes of heated lip action, he wasn’t thinking about anything except how hard his dick had become.
When they finally broke apart so that Brian could catch his breath, he noticed that Justin’s clothing had conveniently disappeared again. That was the thing that finally got Brian to actually laugh. The impish blond just smiled up at him with a playful glint in his eye. The laughter was short-lived though. Brian felt too raw, too exposed by the lingering terror of his dream, to enjoy the moment. He needed action, not more empty words or pointless laughter, to stave off his demons.
Brian fell on the blond boy, his hands roaming urgently over the ivory skin and his mouth nipping along behind them. He felt the need to possess the younger man. To devour him. To wrest approval and love out of him. To prove something, even if he couldn’t articulate what it was he was trying to prove. And the feeling was so insistent, so compelling, that Brian didn’t have the ability to stop himself or even slow down long enough to question the impetus behind his actions.
Without pausing to think or reason, Brian hoisted Justin’s legs up so that the younger man’s ankles were resting on his shoulders. He spit into the palm of his hand, too frenzied to locate the lube even though the bottle was waiting just a meter or so away on the top of the nightstand. Taking only enough time to slick up his dick with the saliva, Brian plunged into his partner’s ass, thrusting home angrily again and again and again. He stabbed into the younger man as if he could thereby kill whatever demons had been hounding him. This wasn’t making love. This was raw and primal and demanding. It was an outward manifestation of the inward fury that never really seemed to leave no matter how much Brian fought against it. And it had been building up for months now, to the point that he simply had to let it out, no matter what the consequences.
This exorcism didn’t take very long. In less than five minutes Brian had worked himself up to an even greater frenzy as he hammered into Justin over and over, oblivious to everything else around him. The angry pace only increased as his fervor built to a climax. Finally, with one last, powerful thrust that was so violent it caused Justin to slide upwards far enough that his head bumped against the headboard of the bed, Brian exploded with a groan of repletion. The orgasm that rocked through him was so draining that his consciousness flickered and he literally collapsed on top of Justin, laying there, panting, not thinking or even moving, for several long minutes.
It was only when he heard a sniffle coming from the face buried under his shoulder that he reconnected to the reality around him. Leveraging himself up onto one elbow, he looked down and discovered a tear-washed blond face gazing back at him. Justin scrunched up his eyes, trying to blink away the tears since he was still unable to free his hands from Brian’s grip. His countenance was suffused with a wordless anguish that made Brian almost panic.
“Justin? What . . . Shit, are you okay? Did I . . . Fuck, I was too rough, wasn’t I? I . . . I hurt you. Fuck, fuck, fuck . . .” Brian recoiled from the crying man, scooting away from the distraught Justin in horror over his supposed crime.
Justin reacted just as fast though, wrapping his arms around Brian’s neck as soon as he was released and refusing to let him get away.
“Stop it, Brian! Stop! I’m fine. I’m not hurt. I’m just sad because you’re so hurt,” Justin insisted, trying to get Brian to look at him even as the older man continued to struggle to free himself. “Brian! STOP!” he yelled, his pleas finally seeming to reach their target even though Brian was still averting his gaze. “Listen to me, Brian. Are you listening?”
Brian gave the merest twitch of a nod.
“You did NOT hurt me, Brian. I’m fine. You needed that and I’m glad I could give it to you. I’m not hurt. Not by that. You could never hurt me,” Justin paused, holding his listener’s chin so he could force eye contact and hoping that his words were actually getting through. “I’m not upset over the sex, Brian. I swear. I’m upset because I feel so bad about what you’re going through. I wish I could somehow reassure you that it’s going to be okay. I wish I could take away all this fear. All this doubt you have . . .”
Brian pulled away and rolled to the edge of the mattress where he sat up with his back to the importuning blond. Justin sighed and shook his head. What would it take to get through that thick head? How could he make Brian see the reality that Justin saw? The truth that all his fears of becoming his father - or worse - were unfounded? It was just inconceivable that his Brian would ever be other than the compassionate and kind-hearted, if flawed, man he’d always been.
Justin wiped away the residue of his prior tears and renewed his resolve. He wasn’t going to let Brian succumb to his fears. He would find a way to make this right. He had to.
Inching over so he could mold his body to Brian’s back and wrap his arms around the bigger man’s middle, Justin let his forehead rest against one prominent shoulder blade. “Everything is going to work out, Brian. I know it will. And I’ll be here to help you. I promise. Somehow we’ll get through this. Together.”
Brian huffed a scoffing snort of disbelief at that pronouncement.
“You doubt me?” Justin tried to tease a little, but once again that fell flat. Brian was far too stressed out to find anything funny. “Brian . . . I won’t let you fail. You’ve gotta trust that I’ll be here for you.” Still no answer from the brooding brunet, but Justin refused to relent on this point. “I promise, Brian, nothing will keep me from being there for you when you need me. I’ll always find a way to get to you. NOTHING can keep us apart for long. I know you don’t believe it, but we’re meant to be together. I know that as surely as I know anything. We’re kindred souls. We will always end up together. That’s just the way the universe works. Even if, for some inexplicable reason, something were to happen to one or the other of us, I would STILL find a way to get back to you. I promise. I don’t know how or what form I would be in, but somehow I would get to you.”
Justin squeezed Brian as hard as he could, trying to physically prove that he wouldn’t let go. Brian let out a deep, long, slow breath and seemed to calm. He let his head tilt backwards so that it was resting against the crown of Justin’s head. And then they just sat there together, silently communing, each drawing strength from the touch of the other, and both hoping that Justin’s words were true.
~**~**~**~**~
The Diner was packed by the time Brian arrived. It had taken him quite a while to pull himself together, even with Justin's quiet support. Luckily, he didn't have anything important on his agenda at work that day, so arriving early wasn't necessary.
It seemed like everyone else was moving slowly that morning as well. It was late August and hotter than hell outside, which encouraged a general sluggishness. On top of that, Debbie was dragging just a bit herself - still suffering from the jetlag left over from her trip to Italy with Vic. Because of this double-whammy, though, there was actually a line of folks waiting to get into the Diner. Luckily, Mikey and Em had already snagged a table and Brian was able to cut through the throng and join his friends inside where it was air conditioned. Ted must have already left for work, since there was an empty plate shoved to the side that hadn't yet been cleared. Brian slid into the booth, sitting on the near side next to Emmett, ignoring the way Michael had automatically started to scoot over for him as well as the disappointed look when Brian didn't sit next to his ‘Best Friend’.
“Coffee!” Brian growled as a harried Deb scuttled past, ignoring the greetings of his friends.
Em and Michael gave each other the ‘Someone’s in a grumpy mood’ look and then tacitly agreed not to poke the Brian Bear until he'd been properly caffeinated. They went back to their prior conversation, chatting about this and that, while Brian doctored the cup of Joe that Debbie brought and then took his first life-saving sips.
“Yeah, Uncle Vic seems to be doing really good,” Michael intoned happily. “Considering how sick he was right before he and Ma left on their trip, I was actually scared he might not make it back. But those new protease inhibitors the doc has him on seem to have kicked in. He's up and around and says he's feeling great. I just hope it lasts.”
“That's wonderful news, Honey,” Emmett enthused. “We should have a party to welcome the world travellers home and celebrate Vic’s recovery. You know, sort of the opposite of a ‘Bon Voyage’ party . . .”
“A ‘Bienvenue Party’,” Justin opined as he climbed up to perch on the back of the booth behind Michael.
Brian looked up at his shadow with a questioning look.
“The opposite of ‘bon voyage’ is ‘bienvenue’. So it would be a Bienvenue Party,” the knowledgeable sprite offered.
“Bienvenue,” Brian echoed, nodding and smiling at the smart little fucker.
“Bein’ what?” Michael asked with evident befuddlement over Brian’s comment.
Brian huffed a little laugh and shook his head. “Never mind.”
Justin snickered at the clueless Michael and enjoyed seeing that smile from Brian, who was trying to hide it so as not to encourage the invisible imp. Meanwhile, the other two occupants of the booth went back to their conversation, ignoring Brian’s seeming non sequitur. At least until Debbie arrived with food for all and the rest of the discussion was paused while the parties fed their faces.
Justin spent the rest of the meal making faces at Michael whenever he’d say something particularly uninformed and/or making rude gestures that only Brian could see. He even managed to prompt a few quiet chuckles out of the taciturn Brian, which was practically a miracle considering the way the morning had started out. Justin was glad that Brian’s mood seemed to have improved. It went a little way towards alleviating the nagging worry Justin had been fighting off for the past few days.
That morning, the heavy weight of anxiety had seemed to be especially onerous. He’d had a feeling for days now that something really bad was coming, but hadn’t been able to pin down just what his premonition was heralding. But it had been enough to make him dog Brian’s steps with more than his usual tenacity. Maybe the little emotional outburst of the morning had been it and, now that Brian had made it through that, all would be well. But, if so, why did Justin still feel the same lingering sense of dread? Like the Sword of Damocles was still hanging over both their heads. He really hoped that he was wrong, but he just couldn’t shake off the sense of apprehension. He didn’t know what else was likely to happen, but he knew it would involve Brian and it wasn’t going to be good. So he continued to hover and watch and wait.
“So, we’re on for Babylon tonight, right Brian?” Michael importuned just as they were all finishing up their breakfasts.
“Don’t know. I’m actually pretty bushed. I might just stay in tonight, get caught up on some work shit and take it easy,” Brian answered, causing all three of his listeners to look up.
Brian didn’t usually admit to any weakness, let alone say he was blowing off a club night just because he was tired. But when you looked at him, you could actually see the fatigue etched on his still-handsome face. There were bags under his eyes that not even his usual anti-wrinkle cream could hide.
“You do look a little tired, Brian,” Michael empathized, reaching out to rest his hand atop Brian’s on the tabletop. “If you want, I could come over to the loft tonight and we can just hang out.”
Brian immediately pulled his hand back out of Michael’s intimate grip. “I don’t need a babysitter, just a night off, Mikey,” he grumbled, his prickly mood popping up again with the least provocation.
There might have been more discussion, perhaps leading to an actual argument, if Brian’s phone hadn’t buzzed providentially at that very moment. Brian scowled at the screen, obviously not happy with who was listed on the caller ID, but he hit the ‘accept’ button nonetheless. While he mumbled ‘Yeah?’ into the phone, he stood up, threw down a few bills to cover the cost of his meal and then walked towards the exit so he could take his call outside. Michael and Emmett watched him leave, but didn’t budge. Justin, however, hopped up and trotted after Brian, sure that this call had something to do with his unsettled feelings.
Sure enough, Brian was already grumbling into the phone. “I don’t have time for this shit, Mom. I’ve got to get to work . . . Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time Dad’s ended up in a jail cell - he should feel perfectly at home there by now. He can just cool his heels until the cops let him out, can’t he? . . . He did what? . . . Assault? Who’d he beat up this time and why the fuck should I feel sorry for him, again? . . .”
Justin couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer - he inched closer to Brian, leaning his head in towards the phone so he could listen in on the other end of the conversation.
“Brian, your father was only trying to protect your sister. That scumbag husband of hers was at it again. Your father was trying to stop him and, well, it all got a little out of hand,” Joan Kinney’s voice could be heard coming through the tiny phone speaker. “Now, you need to get down to the jail and bail him out. I can’t do it because I’m watching your nephews while Clare is at the urgent care center getting a few stitches.”
“Fuck! I don’t have time for this shit!” Brian reiterated.
“I don’t care what you have time for, young man!” Joan yelled through the line. “You get your rear down there and bail out your father like a good, Christian, son,” she demanded and then hung up.
“Fucking biggest bunch of losers ever seen . . .” Brian grumbled as he unlocked the driver’s side door of the Jeep and climbed in. Justin popped into the passenger side seat without bothering with the door. Brian quickly hit speed dial for Cynthia before starting the car and explained why he was going to be even later than before. Then he pulled out into traffic, took a quick, illegal u-turn, and drove off towards the main Allegheny County Jail without saying another word.
~**~**~**~**~
More than an hour later, Brian and Jack were finally walking out of the detention center together, with Jack limping a little and holding his bruised ribs. Clare’s husband was a big guy and it was clear that Jack had come off the loser of this battle. John senior was still in the lockup himself - he’d made the mistake of taking a swing at the cop called to break up the domestic dispute and was being held without bail. Brian thought that was probably good news for Clare and her demon spawn kids. Maybe she’d finally get the courage to divorce the abusive brute. Probably not, though. Not only would it offend their Catholic mother, but then Clare would have to figure out a way to support herself and both kids on her own, which she wasn’t prepared for at all. More likely than not, she’d take the loser back, hide her head in the sand, and pretend it wouldn’t happen again. Just like their mother had done, and probably Joan’s mother before her. Ad nauseum.
Brian wordlessly led his father down the block to the parking garage where he’d left the jeep. What did they really have to say to each other anyway? Besides, Jack was just then beginning to seriously sober up and wasn’t in the best of moods, so he wasn’t feeling particularly chatty. Brian was happy to oblige him in his silence and simply drove.
When they were within a few miles of the Kinney residence, Jack abruptly slapped at Brian’s shoulder and pointed to a mini-mart down the block.
“Pull into the Circle K for me, Sonny Boy,” Jack ordered.
“I don’t have time to drive you around on your errands, Pops. I have a job to get to.”
“Shut your fucking sassy mouth and pull the fuck over!”
“Just do it, Brian. It’s not worth fighting him about,” Justin advised from his spot in the back seat.
Brian pursed his lips angrily, shook his head, but followed directions and pulled into the market’s small parking lot.
“You’re gonna have to lend me a few bucks - I didn’t have time to grab my wallet this morning before I ran off to Clare’s,” Jack stated, holding out his hand and waiting for Brian to simply dole out the cash.
“Fuck no! I’m not supplying you with drinking money after I just shelled out a thou to bail your ass out of jail. Pay for your own fucking beer and buy it on your own fucking time,” Brian snarled, already shifting the Jeep into reverse.
“Listen, Sonny Boy. I’ve had a hell of a morning already and I NEED a fucking beer. So, get off your judgmental, high horse, give me some money already and keep your opinions to yourself,” Jack ordered, pointing insistently with one hand to the empty palm of his other.
Brian opened his mouth to once again object, but Justin leaned forward from the back seat, placed a restraining hand on the big guy’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze to caution him.
“Just give him the money, Brian,” Justin advised. “Don’t waste your breath. This is a fight you won’t win. Besides, sending Jack home to drink himself unconscious is probably the best outcome you can expect out of this. At least then he won’t be likely to hurt anyone.”
Brian sighed, took out his wallet and handed over his last twenty. Jack shot him a triumphant look before slouching out of the car and into the mini-mart. Brian just kept shaking his head, pointedly refusing to meet Justin’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, and silently fuming. After a minute or two like that, he must have finally had enough, because he pulled open his own door and started to get out. Justin was worried that Brian had changed his mind and was going to go confront Jack - never a good idea. Justin popped out of the car, reappearing directly in Brian’s path.
“Don’t do it, Brian. You can’t change him. Just let it be,” Justin warned, one hand on Brian’s chest to deter him.
“So I’m supposed to just go on enabling my alkie father by buying him beer, huh? That’s the brilliant plan? Fuck!” Brian yelled, his fists clenched at his sides and his face suffused with anger.
Jack, who’d come out of the store right then with a case of cheap beer under his arm, laughed at Brian’s outrage. “‘Enabling’ huh? *hahaha* You always did like showing off with all sorts of big, fancy words, didn’t ya, boyo?”
Jack tore open the end of the paperboard carton and extracted his first beer, popping open the top as he chuckled at his irate son.
“Well, you can go on spouting your Libtard psycho-babble all you want, but it won’t do you any fucking good.” Jack tipped back his head and chugged the beer in just a few rapid gulps. “For all your fucking education and swanky duds, you’re still just another Mick from the wrong side of the tracks and you always will be. So take a good look, Sonny Boy.” He gestured to himself with the hand holding the empty beer can, dribbling out a few dregs on the front of his wrinkled denim shirt in the process. “THIS is you in twenty years. *hahaha* Now isn’t that a real pisser!” Jack crushed the aluminum can in his hand and then tossed it at Brian’s face, breaking out in gales of unrestrained laughter when his son had to duck to avoid the missile.
“Fuck it! I don’t care anymore, Sunshine,” Brian snarled, pushing past his invisible guide on his way to take out his anger on his derisive father. “You might have always been a drunken loser, Pops, but I’m not going to be. And I’m also done putting up with you being one.”
Brian went to grab the case of beer away from Jack, who’d already fished out a second can for himself. If Jack’s hands hadn’t been full, he probably would have slugged Brian right then and there. As it was, he only twisted away from Brian and laughed even harder. Brian’s fist was already cocked and it looked like he was only seconds from landing a really good right hook on his father’s chin, when he was stopped by a blood-curdling scream coming from his ethereal companion.
“AAARRRRGGGGHHH! No! No, no, no! Fuck!” Justin screeched, bent almost double and holding his head with both hands, his face a picture of pure agony.
“What . . .” Brian was distracted enough that he let his fist drop and turned to the side to see what the hell was causing his lover such pain.
“No, Jesse, no!” Justin crumpled to his knees on the hard concrete sidewalk. “Shit . . . Jesse,” Justin cried out, tears streaming down his face.
“That’s right. You don’t have it in you, do you, you fucking pussy,” Jack goaded, completely unaware of the reason behind Brian backing off. “All you can do is bitch and moan about shit you don’t like but you never do anything about it, do you? *hahaha* Shit, I can’t believe my son is such a fucking pansy . . .”
Brian looked back at his father, who was now guzzling his beer and openly laughing at what he perceived as Brian’s weakness. But he didn’t have time to take his father to task. He was too worried about Justin right at that moment. His loser father would have to wait.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck . . .” Justin was rocking back and forth, still moaning and crying, obviously devastated by something only he could sense.
Brian started to walk over to the boy who was huddled on the walkway to the left side of the market’s door, but only got two steps before he was stopped by a big meaty hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t you turn your fucking back on me, Sonny Boy!” Jack demanded, pulling Brian back around to look at him. “You know what? I’m sick and tired of your fucking attitude, boy. You need to start showing me some fucking respect. I’m your damned father, after all, and I’m done letting you disrespect me like this,” Jack prattled on angrily as the three beers he’d just chugged in less than five minutes began to take effect and bolster his belligerence.
“Fuck off, Jack. I don’t have time for this, you stupid old drunk,” Brian shrugged off the older man’s grip and tried to turn back towards Justin.
Which is when the entire scene got completely out of control.
“You’re gonna fucking listen to me, damn it!” Jack roared and slung the entire case of beer that he was still holding at Brian’s back.
Brian staggered forward, caught completely off guard by the weight that hit him just as he was turning and already slightly off balance. He managed not to fall, but the impetus forced him to veer off to the side where his foot landed on the edge of the sidewalk, causing him to tilt dangerously and reel into the next parking spot over from the Jeep. A big red SUV that was just pulling into the store braked abruptly in order to avoid running Brian over, the driver laying on the car’s horn in the process and adding to the noise and confusion of the moment. And, in the midst of this chaos, Justin, who’d jumped to his feet intending to run to Brian’s aid, suddenly froze in place and began to scream at the top of his lungs yet again.
“NOOOOOO! Brian! No! No, not now! Not NOW! BRIAN!” Justin shrieked, holding out his arms as if pleading with Brian to help him somehow. “I can’t leave now! I don’t want . . . Briannnn . . .”
By this point Brian had managed to right himself and was attempting to push past the obstruction of Jack Kinney to get to Justin. Unfortunately, his bellicose father seemed intent on picking a fight and wasn’t getting out of the way. Brian, though, was beyond tired of dealing with the idiot and simply shoved him aside, pushing the old man so hard that Jack toppled over, slamming against the SUV and falling to the tarmac in a heap. Brian didn't spare his father a single glance as he vaulted across the pavement to try to reach his clearly distraught lover.
By then, however, it was too late.
With one last cry - voicing all his bottomless regret, pain, fear and love - Justin flung out his arms imploringly towards Brian, right before he started to fade from sight.
“I love you, Brian! I always will. I'm so, so sorry . . . Don't forget . . . Love . . .” The young man’s words faded with him, becoming muffled and indistinct, then evaporating altogether a second before Justin himself vanished into thin air.
Brian was left standing there, trying to hold onto only the wisps of an insubstantial image, as he felt bands of icy cold fear clamp firmly around his heart.
Which was followed ten seconds later by the arms of the SUV driver pinning him against the side of the Jeep and yelling for the mini-mart owner to call the cops. It seems he thought Brian’s seemingly unprovoked attack on the old man still lying in the parking lot needed to be reported. Brian was still too shocked at what had just happened with Justin to think clearly enough to protest his innocence. And Jack was too busy laughing his ass off at this latest development to help, if even he’d been so inclined.
Which is how Brian Kinney ended up having to bail a second person out of jail that day - himself.
~**~**~**~**~