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The End Done Right
by Vamphile
Chapter Twenty-Five
Justin followed the rules. He ate, he slept, he took his medication, and yet Brian still seemed to be retreating from him.
Brian no longer seemed to care if he ate or not. Brian no longer following him up to bed, holding him until he fell asleep. More often than not, somewhere around midnight he’d crawl into bed, only to become aware of Brian’s presence at three in the morning. Justin wondered what Brian was doing until three, but when he asked he got a shrug, or a random “working on an account” excuse.
Justin was up and in the studio early most mornings, but he no longer blared the radio, he listened for the distant brunette’s footsteps in the kitchen and joined him for at least a morning cup of coffee. Brian didn’t seem to care.
That was the thing that had Justin so upset; Brian no longer seemed to care. All the pretty words, all the “I want you to be happy and healthy.” had been about crisis prevention, pain management, being in control. None of it, Justin thought seemed genuine because once he was okay again, or at least some facsimile thereof, Brian stopped giving a shit what Justin did.
Brian watched Justin go through the motions. He slept, he ate, he made a point of letting Brian know that he was doing these things. Justin was so busy proving that he was following the rules, that Brian was pretty sure that the boy had lost sight of why the rules had been established.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Justin's health, he did, and seeing the blonde put on a little weight, and lose the dark circles under his eyes was a good thing. What he did care about was Justin's motivation. It seemed like a nitpicking point. If he was taking care of himself, who cared why? Brian had always been a firm believer in the ends justifying the means, but this was different. Justin didn’t care if he ate, or slept or worked himself into a point of complete exhaustion. The only thing he seemed to care about was proving to Brian that he was doing these things. Justin was taking care of himself to make his…Brian happy, not because he was at all concerned for his own well-being.
Brian couldn’t admit, even to himself how much that scared him. When he’d given up his parental rights to Gus, he’d done it with an absolute sense of rightness. He was giving Gus two parents who loved him and cared about him, and making it clear that in the end, counting on him was not in Gus’s best interest.
He knew that Justin loving him and counting on him was not necessarily in the artist’s best interests, but he did it anyway. The problem was that Brian wasn’t sure how much of his love he could handle without feeling as if the whole world was crashing down upon him. He could take care of Justin, and he would. But, lately he couldn’t help but wonder, why Justin didn’t have any desire to take care of himself beyond pleasing Brian?
Justin's love had always been a frightening thing for him, and lately he felt as if it were life and death, as if he were holding Justin's future sanity and safety in his hands because Justin had handed it to him.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. The alcohol was making him maudlin and introspective, two things he hated. He knew he’d begun to withdraw, it was what he was good at, and he knew that Justin felt it, and it was a vicious cycle. He’d withdraw; Justin would try harder, so he’d withdraw further, refusing at this point to praise him for doing what he was supposed to do. (eat, sleep, not drink and drive) and so Justin tried even harder until it seemed most of the younger man’s actions were about making Brian proud of him, or happy, but not about his own self preservation.
The one thing he did feel better about was that Justin was reconnecting with the outside world.
Jennifer had come for lunch on Tuesday. Justin and Daphne had been hanging out a lot lately. The friends had ended up talking so late into the evening, catching up that he found them both crashed on the bed in the guest room the next morning. Emmett even seemed to be around more often, spending afternoons keeping Justin company as he talked about the show and the work he was contemplating. All of this was good, and healthy, and positive, but lately, Justin seemed reluctant to leave the house. Brian wondered, with all the rules Justin was so careful to point out his adherence to, if he were breaking a main one, the honesty, and lying by omission part.
They both got out of the shower, orchestrating their morning with an easy rhythm. Justin had slept a little later than usual today, and Brian had gotten up a bit earlier and so they had some quality time wet naked and soapy.
“Hey, can you do me a favor?”
“You want me to blow you right here? I just did that five minutes ago.”
Justin snapped a hand towel at Brian in mock exasperation.
“No, I need you to stop at the Paint Loft on 5th and pick up a few things.”
“That disgusting store full of pretentious starving artists and housewife cum wannabe painters?”
“It won’t kill you, and I wasn’t planning on going into the city today”
“Of course you weren’t” Brian mumbled as he watched Justin pull on studio clothes while he finished putting ridiculously expensive product in his hair.
“What?”
”Nothing, give me the list, I’ll get what you need.”
Justin handed him the list and a credit card. “What the fuck is this?”
“Method of payment.” Justin gave him his best “duh” face and tried to find a pair of socks. The studio floors got cold lately; tile did that in Pittsburgh in October.
“Justin, you know I actually have one of these of my own.”
“I pay for art supplies, then there’s no issue as to…”
“Whatever.”
Justin was hurt, but didn’t say anything; he hated when Brian cut him off, and felt as if Brian was angry with him simply for trying to show some independence.
“This is a very detailed list.”
“Yeah, if you give it to Oswald, he’ll get everything you need, you’re not gonna have to search around for stuff yourself.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I trust you, I’m just trying to save you time.”
”And why can’t you get this stuff, at the place in Havertown?”
“Because they don’t have the pure cobalt, they have to order it, the one downtown actually carries it, and I need it, I’ve got to get this piece finished.”
Brian shrugged, pulled on a pair of pants and shoved the note into his pocket. “I’ll stop on the way home.”
“Thank you.”
Justin leaned in to kiss Brian, and Brian accepted the kiss without really returning it.
He grabbed his jacket and briefcase from their spot in the foyer and yelled over his shoulder, “I’m gonna check in at the diner for breakfast. See you tonight.”
Justin heard the ‘vette drive off and breathed a sigh of relief. He had tried four times in the last week to get to the store himself and each time had failed. The pure terror that sometimes still woke him in the middle of the night seemed to overcome him in the car now. He felt as if the Ambien just held it at bay and never really stopped whatever was after him from coming.
Brian considered the list in his pocket. He had gone art supply shopping with Justin a few times. He’d never gone voluntarily but every once in a while Justin got sneaky, swore he just needed to run a single errand, and before anything else could even be said, Brian was staring, bored, at tubes of paint, and canvas stretching paraphernalia. The only reason he put up with it was the reverent joy Justin experienced in the store. It was as if there was nothing in the world but the potential that all of those supplies presented. He was surprised, to say the least that Justin had asked him to pick the stuff up, and even more surprised at how long the list of things he needed was, as he was usually stocking up on something three or four times a week.
Brian thought back. Two weeks ago, they had been at Deb’s for dinner, Justin stoned, and drunk, Brian angry and worried. After that, Justin had gone to see Michael…no wait, Michael had come to the house to pick up sketches. And Emmett had come to visit a few days later and stayed for a drink before he left. Then Justin had mentioned lunch with his mom…but he’d talked about what he’d cooked.
Brian couldn’t remember any time since dinner at Deb’s two weeks ago, when Justin had left the house. He shook his head, knowing he’d been withdrawn since that night. He probably just hadn’t been paying attention.
Brian gave the list to Cynthia, asking her to call the store and have them get the stuff ready so he could just pick it up. He tried to concentrate on the new account Kinnetic had acquired but he couldn’t think of an interesting angle. He looked at some of the ideas that others had come up with and tossed them aside, they were worse than his.
The day went along tediously as Brian tried not to wrack his brain to come up with the last time that he knew Justin had left the house. He couldn’t remember, the only one he could think of was Deb’s.
After work he stopped by Woody’s for a drink, and found what he was looking for, Emmett.
“Hey stranger, haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Busy.”
“So I hear.”
Brian just looked up questioningly
“Justin. He says you’ve been nose to the grindstone for weeks.”
“You talk to Justin a lot?”
“Well, not as much as you do sweetie.” Emmett said. The last thing he wanted was for Brian to do one of his “non-jealousy” acts.
“No, I think you may talk to him more lately.”
“Trouble at casa de bri-tin?”
Brian gave him a withering look “Fuck off.”
“Brian, you know, Justin would talk to you if you were more…available to him.”
“Brian waved to the bartender for a refill and mumbled something under his breath.
“Didn’t quite catch that.”
“Emmett what the fuck is wrong with him?”
Brian had to give Emmett credit, he hid his surprise well, and dropped the full flame tease he’d been doing when he realized Brian was asking him a real question.
“Brian, what makes you think I’d know?”
“Because you two are friends.”
“I think you’re a little closer to Justin than I am.” Emmett was hedging and Brian knew it.
“This is bullshit, you talk to him all the time, you pry shit out of people almost as well as I do, so if there’s something to know, you fucking know it.”
Emmett dropped all pretenses. “He’s scared.”
“What the fuck is he scared of?”
”Honey, I don’t think he knows.”
”how can he not know?”
”He’s scared of a lot of things, Brian, have you really talked to him, I mean since the um…”
“Incident?”
”If that’s what you’re calling it.”
”No, he won’t talk to me.”
“Well then maybe you should talk to him.”
“And say what?”
“Well, I’m not one to say what goes on behind closed doors.”
Brian shot him a glance
“Okay, I’m one to always say what goes on behind closed doors, but let me ask you this, Mr. Cold, distant, and I’ll take care of everyone’s problems…how much do you listen?”
”That’s the third fucking time you’ve told me to talk to him or listen to him. I don’t have time for this crap, I’ve got to go pick up a bunch of shit at the art supply store before I hit the gym, so why don’t you tell me what I’m supposed to be listening for. What the fuck am I supposed to be talking to him about?”
Emmett shrugged.
Brian dropped money on the bar and left.
Emmett followed him out “Brian, he needs to talk to someone, but he’s scared and he’s afraid to tell you because he thinks you’re going to push him away, in that ‘very special way you have’, so he tries, and now he’s spending the same energy trying to prove he’s okay as he did trying to hide that he wasn’t.”
“He’s not okay.”
“I know that, and you know that, but I don’t think our little boy knows that.”
“Fuck. Emmet, one other thing…you repeat this conversation and…”
“I know, I know, you’ll have my balls, or my dick, or kick my ass, or sew my lips shut, I get it, confidentiality is my middle name.”
Brian walked away swallowing a nasty retort about other middle names that might be more appropriate.
It was well past nine by the time Brian got back, he’d burned off a lot of energy at the gym, and made two important decisions, the first was that they were going to put a home gym in soon, the place had been crawling with trolls and lesbians today, the second was that he and Justin were going to the art supply store together tomorrow before dinner at Deb's.
Justin was in the den when Brian came down in jeans and a sweater. He was sketching something and kept staring up at the TV as if it were going to provide divine inspiration, then he’d look back down at the drawing and start working again. Brian sat next to him and tried to figure out what he was watching but it was anime without subtitles.
Justin looked up when he had gotten the line drawings in.
“Hi.”
”Hi.”
Brian leaned in and kissed Justin, moving the sketchbook and pencil to the coffee table.
“How was your day?”
”Boring, yours?”
”I got some great work done on the new issue.”
Brian began massaging Justin's hand, something he hadn’t done in a while, and Justin felt a surge of hope go through him.
“Did you get that stuff I needed?”
Brian had hoped he’d get more than a couple of minutes before they had to get into this, but apparently not.
“No.”
“Brian, I needed that to finish.”
“We’ll pick it up tomorrow before dinner at Deb's.”
Justin's stomach clenched. Brian watched his face; Justin closed his eyes, and swallowed hard.
“Hey, what’s wrong.”
“What? Oh nothing.”
Justin looked at Brian and knew he wasn’t buying it. “I just really wanted to finish that piece tomorrow and get it shipped out. I think it will complement some of the other works in the show and I wanted to get it to Ranston as soon as possible.”
“And that’s all?” Brian was terrible at this. He knew how to manipulate, how to ask questions to make people give him the responses he wanted, and how to make people realize what they should be doing, but he was terrible at actually listening, actually talking. Communication was not Brian's strong suit.
“Yeah, that’s all.”
“Are you lying to me?”
Justin took a deep breath, not sure how to answer the question. If he was honest with Brian then there’s be all kinds of things to deal with that he just didn’t want to deal with, and if he lied to him, he would be breaking the honesty policy they’d set, and admitting he’d been breaking it for a while, which could piss Brian off enough to send him away completely. He sat in silence.
“Justin, hey, Justin.” Brian's voice brought him back to the question at hand.
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
”Tell me the truth.”
”You didn’t promise.”
Brian stood up, frustrated, “how the fuck am I supposed to know if I’ll get mad?”
Justin was not scared of Brian but his emotional reaction was unnerving.
“Fucking talk to me Justin.”
Justin looked up at him. “Okay, sit down and we’ll talk”
Brian poured himself a drink, and sat down. Justin took the drink and downed it in a single gulp. Brian gave a half laugh and poured them each another drink, and then sat back down, bottle on the table.
“I’m scared.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do. I get scared a lot still. But I’ve been good, I’ve been following the rules.”
“Why?”
Justin looked at him for a moment not understanding the question. “Why what?”
”Why have you been following the rules?”
”Because you told me to.”
Brian sighed, downed his drink and poured another. “Do you know why we made the rules?”
”Because I almost hurt myself.”
“You DID hurt yourself, there was no almost about it. The rules aren’t there to make me happy. You’re just following them because you’re afraid I’ll be mad if you don’t.”
”You’re mad at me anyway.”
”I’m not mad at you.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “You forget sometimes that I know you better than anyone.”
”Justin I’m not mad, I’m frustrated.”
“I’m following the rules, why would you be frustrated?”
”Because I don’t understand why…”
Brian stopped. “FUCK” he thought to himself, he hated words, they were great for selling stuff, but they sucked when it came to actually expressing emotions. If he were stoned he could go around in circles thinking about which caused which to lose meaning. Using the word love, entitlement, joy, promise, desire, all to describe a new moisturizer made the words mean nothing when it came time to say them for real, about something real. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried hard to clear his thoughts.
“What don’t you understand Brian? I follow the rules because I don’t want you to be unhappy.”
Brian was ready to walk out but he tried to remain calm. “I don’t understand why you don’t care about yourself as much as I do.”
“What?”
”You eat, because I’d be upset if you didn’t. You sleep, because I am upset when you don’t. You do all the things you’re supposed to so that I don’t have to worry about you, but you don’t worry about yourself.”
“Brian I’ve been taking care of myself.”
“When was the last time you went outside?”
”This afternoon, I played with Gus.”
“When was the last time you went out of the house, off the grounds, took that ugly orange box that you call a car out of the garage?
“Ummm.”
”Deb’s two weeks ago?”
”Yeah probably I’ve been really busy with…”
“You had to be buzzed to get there.”
“Well, yeah, I’ve been having a lot of anxiety lately, because with the show coming up and…”
“Justin, you’re not okay.”
”No Brian I am, I’ve been eating and sleeping, and look” he flexed his hand, “no pain”
“You really want me to shrug this off, pretend it’s no problem, ignore it?”
Brian turned his body towards Justin's, entwining his fingers with the smaller ones. He leaned his forehead against Justin's. “You’re scaring me again, you eat, you sleep, you paint, you sketch, but you’re not okay. Justin, I can’t make you okay, you need to talk to someone.”
“I talk to Daph, and to my mom, and Emmett and Lindsay and….”
“A professional.”
Justin was crying but Brian didn’t move his forehead from Justin's. He lifted their hands fingers still entwined, and wiped the tear away with his thumb. “I know you’re scared, but you’ve gotta do this.”
Justin gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Okay.”
Brian pulled his head back, and kissed him on the forehead. “Good.”
“Brian?”
“Mmmmmm?”
“Will you go with me?”
“If you want me to.”
Justin leaned against him. “You know, I might be totally insane, what if they want to lock me away?”
”I won’t let them.”
“You won’t?”
“I’m the only one allowed to drug you and tie you to a bed.”
Justin laughed. “Wanna practice?
Brian smiled and they walked upstairs.
An hour later, Justin was in fact tied to the bed, but he swore that he could hear the colors and Brian decided that if he was going to act like a tweaked out kid on E he’d have to cut his dose, but then he listened to Justin's elaborate and detailed description of what’ he’d like Brian to do to him while he was bound and immobile, and Brian decided that maybe they needed to do this more often.
When they finally came down, sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed smoking a joint they decided that caring communicative E administering Brian could come around as often as he liked.
Justin called Dr. McKenzie the next day to get a referral for a decent therapist. He gave him two numbers to call. Justin called both, and made the appointment for Tuesday morning at ten, he wanted to make it at a more convenient time for Brian but it was that, or two weeks from Thursday.
Brian had Cynthia clear his schedule for Tuesday morning and decided he was done telling himself that Justin was recovering nicely. Every time he convinced himself of that, something else came up. So for now, he was just relieved that this hurdle had been jumped. And then the perfect idea hit him for the stupid ad campaign for the new women’s athletic line that Brown was launching.
He didn’t look up from his desk again until five thirty.
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