A Thousand Beautiful Things | 9
Title: A Thousand Beautiful Things
Author: lemon_bar
Rating: R
Chapter Nine: Don't Say A Word
Month Three: Week One
“Mm mm,” Emmett said, dropping heavily onto the couch in the rec room beside Michael. “I am the happiest person in the world!”
“Why? Did a friend smuggle in a dildo for you?” Brian asked.
“No,” Emmet said, glaring at Brian. “I’m leaving next week! Doctor Blake says I’m as good as new!” Emmett clapped his hands like a seal, accepted Melanie’s and Michael’s congratulations. Brian looked at Justin who was sitting on he floor, his legs tucked under his chin and watching it all with a frown. He waited for the blond to say something, anything, to congratulate Emmett, to explain that he’d miss the man. Justin only bit his lip, then got to his feet quickly and left the room.
Ever since Justin had spoken to him Brian kept waiting for the blond to speak again, to say something to his friends, or one of the nurses. Instead, Justin remained silent, behaved, in fact, as if nothing had changed at all. Except at night sometimes when he would crawl into Brian’s bed, tuck his body safely between Brian and the wall, holding Brian’s arms tightly around him, and only then would he whisper. He hadn’t yet spoken much, a few sentences about something safe. Brian could understand that speaking would be difficult for Justin, he could not, though, understand why Justin had spoken to him and not to Emmett. Why Justin had not said a word to the man who had been with him at Liberty for so long.
“I’ll get him,” Brian said, when Emmett looked worriedly toward the door. Michael and Melanie hadn’t noticed Justin’s quick exit, they were still caught-up with the good news, happy for their friend.
Brian found Justin in their room, sitting on his bed with his back to the wall, his knees bent before him, and Gus-bear sitting in his lap. Brian settled himself at the foot of Justin’s bed, at the blonde’s feet. The silence was companionable; Brian could understand that Justin would be upset. Emmett was a good friend, had been at Liberty for well over a year and had spent every moment of that time with Justin. If Justin had no intention of leaving Liberty, this would be how his life was spent -- growing close to people who would leave him eventually, when they were free.
“Are you okay?” Brian asked, placing a hand on Justin’s foot. Blue eyes were watering, but the tears were not falling yet. Justin huffed, his breath blowing the blond locks around his face upwards. “I didn’t think so,” Brian said, which earned him a rueful smile and a nudge by one of Justin’s feet.
........................
Brian looked at the sheet of paper Lindsay had handed him. “What the fuck is this?” he asked.
“I’m being unconventional,” she said. “That seems to work better with you. That’s a list of signs of post-traumatic stress.”
“That’s nice,” he said, handing the sheet back.
“Take a look at it for a moment,” she said. “How many of those can you relate to?”
“None,” Brian asked, barely glancing at the sheet.
“A longer look than that,” she said.
Brian looked at the sheet. He didn’t have flashbacks, but he had nightmares. Most of the outward signs, he didn’t have. He didn’t mind touch, had never self-mutilated and could easily regulate his basic bodily functions. The majority of the things on the list had nothing to do with him. He shrugged and handed the list back.
“I want you to see where I think some of your behaviours are coming from,” Lindsay said, accepting the list back. “Your trouble trusting people, the feelings of dysphoria you’ve spoken about that you deal with by drinking, taking recreational drugs and having casual sex.” Brian shifted in his seat, wanting simultaneously to run from the room and to hear more. As much as Brian’s instinct was kicking in, telling him to forget this, to get out of there, he didn’t need to take this; he knew that what Lindsay was saying was important to listen to. “Brian, you’ve internalized these experiences, that’s how you dealt with it. I want to tell you, though, that tucking all of this away isn’t dealing with it. It’s anything but.” He snorted and looked away from her.
Lindsay stood from her desk, pulled something from a drawer and returned. Lindsay was almost exactly what Brian expected a therapist to be like. She used phrases like ‘how did that make you feel?’ and had perfected the stilted compassion that he had always associated with someone who you paid to help you. Sometimes, though, Lindsay caught him completely off-guard, and whenever she did, he got the feeling that she wasn’t all what she appeared to be. “I have a workbook for you,” she said, pushing a booklet across her desk to him. It had a blue cover with black spiral rings holding it together. There was no title, nothing to suggest the contents. “We have them bound this way to offer you privacy. There are different kinds of workbooks, and no real reason for anyone but yourself to know which one you’re working on.”
Brian took the workbook from the desk, flipped open the cover to the front page where there wasn’t a title, but instead a quotation. “Don’t run away from it. Don’t bury it. Don’t try to produce a different reality getting all strung out on something, or eating your way through your feelings. Don’t slash your wrists. Just deal with it, because it’s going to keep coming back if you continue living anyway. It’s painful, but you just have to keep going. It’s just a part of life, really,[i]” Brian read to himself. He looked up and Lindsay smiled a little.
“You might not be ready to talk about it,” she said after a moment. “That’s okay. But I want you to work through this book so that at least you’re acknowledging it, and thinking it through. It will help. Until you feel ready to talk about it.”
...................
That night, Brian’s nightmares, which had abated slightly, returned full-force. He awoke not long after falling asleep with the sound of a shout echoing off the walls. The night-nurse asked if he wanted a sleeping pill, but he didn’t and said so. He held Gus-bear in his arms and thought about the blue workbook he’d shoved in the bottom of a drawer. He woke again in a cold sweat.
Justin had been asleep, but Brian’s second nightmare had woken him. Brian heard the rustle of sheets and quiet footfalls, then Justin sat down at the foot of Brian’s bed. For a moment, Brian lay quiet, feeling the heat from Justin’s body at his feet. Then, decision made, he threw back the covers and Justin slipped in between them. When Brian awoke again from a nightmare, his eyes flew open and connected immediately with blue eyes, he felt Justin’s fingers in his hair and Justin’s arm around his body. He fell asleep quickly and woke again in the morning.
.................
“How’s breakfast?” Brian asked, having closed the door to their room. Justin looked up from his cinnamon oatmeal and frowned. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but his eyes flickered to the door and then back to Brian, and he ended up closing it again and looking down at his bowl.
“It’s okay,” Brian said. “It’s just me,” he assured Justin. Justin glanced up briefly, his blue eyes somewhat glassy, then looked away. “You’re safe here.” Brian was struck by the irony. He didn’t talk, wasn’t much of a conversationalist. He could deliver a pitch, he could banter, he could entice, he could taunt and tease, he could make a person feel three inches tall. He was not one for interacting, though, not much for actual dialogue. Yet here was, finding that he was wanting to actually converse with his silent roommate. To talk to him.
...................
Justin spent a good deal of time avoiding Emmett. This afforded Brian more time to observe his roommate. He wondered why Justin would spend last week with his friend, avoiding him. Then again, Justin was likely too upset to deal with it at that moment. Brian wondered if Lindsay had given a workbook to Justin, or if Justin wouldn’t have filled one out. Lindsay had mentioned that she had several ways of working with Justin, but if the young man was willing to write things down in order to communicate it seemed likely that Lindsay would have a better understanding of what was going on than she did, and the nursing staff would have been using pads of paper to communicate with him. No, on further thought, it seemed as if Justin was refusing to talk and write.
So Brian watched Justin and realized that he really was the only person Justin trusted enough to speak to. Literally, the blond would tense whenever someone -- even one of the Gang -- came close when he had been talking. Even if Justin didn’t talk so much as whisper.
Brian assured himself that this was simply a pet-project. He spent his time after his sessions with Lindsay but before lunch sitting with Justin in their room and talking. In the hopes he could entice the blond into conversation. It seemed reasonable to think that the more comfortable Justin was talking in their room, the easier it would be to get Justin to talk outside of it. So far this plan had not been working.
“Brian, have you seen Justin anywhere?” Emmett asked, poking his head into the room Brian shared with the blond. When Brian merely shook his head, Emmett threw-up his hands and then stalked into the room, settling on Justin’s bed and grabbing a hold of Gus-bear. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about my leaving.”
“That would imply he doesn’t want to talk about it,” Brian said idly as he turned the page of his book.
“This is serious!” Emmett said. “We’ve been close for a long long time!” Emmett explained, as if Brian hadn’t known already. “I don’t want to leave if it’s going to upset him.”
“You can’t stay,” Brian said.
“I just want to talk to him,” Emmett said, collapsing in a swoon on Justin’s bed, still holding the teddy. “I want to explain things to him.”
“He’s not a child, he knows better than anyone how things work here,” Brian said, returning to his book.
Emmett lay there quietly for a moment before he sat up. “Could you just tell him that I was here and would really like to talk to him?”
“Sure, I’ll pass that on. Just like I’ve passed on every other message you’ve given me. And he’ll ignore it, just like he’s ignored every other message you’ve passed on to him.”
“Well, try!” Emmett said, before he turned on his heel and left.
......................
Brian returned from Lindsay’s on Thursday with a plan. He strode quickly through the halls, burst into the room he shared with Justin, relieved to see Justin sitting on his bed reading. Without explanation, Brian snagged Justin’s wrist, tugged him up from the bed and pulled him out of the room, back towards the exit.
Justin had first spoken to Brian in the middle of the night. He’d climbed over Brian’s body so that he could lie facing the wall, with Brian’s body between him and the door. Justin had kept Brian’s arms tight around him and even then, had only managed a whisper. In the passed week, Brian had barely been able to coax Justin to speak. Finally, Brian thought he understood what might be stopping the younger man.
It was overcast, the clouds hanging low in the sky, threatening rain. Likely because of the ominous weather, there were not many people on the patio, and no one in the garden. Brian kept a brisk pace, leading Justin down the steps until they were walking on the grass between the flowerbeds. They walked in a straight line away from Building Three, away from the all the buildings of Liberty, until they were at the spot where the garden began to slope down steeply and where the trees took-over the grass making a sort of perimeter of the grounds. Here, Brian released Justin’s wrist.
Justin’s brow was creased and he was looking at Brian with curiosity. “Do you see anyone here?” Brian asked. Justin cautiously looked around. “Anyone at all?” Justin shook his head. “Justin,” Brian said. He spoke slower, trying to convey what he meant. “There’s no one here. Do you see anyone?”
“No,” Justin said after a moment. He looked surprised as the word slipped out then he smiled. “Just you,” Justin added.
“It wouldn’t be much of a conversation if you were here by yourself,” Brian said, surprised that he was actually teasing. Justin nudged him with his arm and smiled wider.
“I don’t like talking where people can hear,” Justin said.
It seemed like an opening. Brian had questions that he could barely hold back and it seemed like the perfect segue. “Why?” he asked, cautiously. Justin shook his head quickly. “Okay,” Brian said, knowing it was hard enough for Justin without the added pressure of questions.
Brian had spent a great deal of time puzzling over Justin, and he’d realized that Justin had likely chosen to speak to him because he’d known that Brian wouldn’t push. Emmett would have been fully supportive of his friend, but he would have had questions that he wouldn’t have kept back. If Justin had spoken with Melanie or Lindsay, the expectation that he continue to talk and share things would put too much pressure on Justin, forcing him to talk about things that, at this point, Justin was still avoiding. Michael was unable to keep any kind of secret, especially from his mother.
“I want to just be normal for a minute,” Justin said. “Can we do that?”
“Sure,” Brian said, his tongue creeping into his cheek.
“Good,” Justin said. “Because then I can do this.” He grinned like the devil and pitched his body to the side. Brian watched his roommate roll down the grassy hill they’d been standing by.
“I don’t know how normal that is, Sunshine,” Brian called, Justin’s laughter drifted up the hill. It was loud and warm and the freest sound Brian had ever heard.
“Come on!” Justin called. “Roll yourself down!”
“No! That’s crazy!” Brian said.
“Well, that’s why you’re here isn’t it?” Justin called back. Brian could see Justin waving his arms, beckoning him down. “Come on Brian!” Justin called.
“Not a chance,” Brian retorted.
“Do you see anyone here?” Justin taunted, tossing Brian’s words back at him. Another challenge. Brian rolled his eyes and couldn’t help looking around. He sat carefully on the hill, and then lay down. For a moment he was still, but then he heard Justin’s voice: “Roll down!” and he twisted, starting his body on the tumbling descent.
The ground was rough under him. He hit a few bumps, scraped over some prickly spots of grass and tumbled to a stop at Justin’s feet, the blond laughing loudly. “I won’t tell a soul,” Justin promised, leaning over Brian, then offered a hand. “Come on, it looks like it’s going to ...” before Justin could finish it began to rain fiercely.
“Ah, shit,” Brian said.
“You aren’t afraid of wrecking your clothes, are you?” Justin asked whose own uniform already had mud around the cuffs of his pants. They ran up the hill, slipping on muddy patches and headed back to Building Three.
“Boys! Are you crazy!” Debbie yelled as she saw them running. She was standing under the roof of the patio, holding a stack of towels. “Get up here! Hurry!” There were others running to the safety of the building, Brian snatched-up two towels as they passed Debbie and hurried inside. They stopped at the foot of the stairs to dry off. Brian wrapped the yellow towel around his neck and grabbed Justin’s towel, plopping it over the blond head and towelling vigorously to dry Justin’s hair. When he pulled the towel back Justin looked torn, his lips working as if he wanted to speak, but his eyes were frightened.
“It’s okay,” Brian assured the blond. “You don’t need to say a word.” The gratitude that shone in the blue eyes was all the response Brian needed.
|<< [END CHAPTER] >>|
masterpost
[i] Quote by Soledad, from The Courage To Heal.
Author: lemon_bar
Rating: R
Chapter Nine: Don't Say A Word
Month Three: Week One
“Mm mm,” Emmett said, dropping heavily onto the couch in the rec room beside Michael. “I am the happiest person in the world!”
“Why? Did a friend smuggle in a dildo for you?” Brian asked.
“No,” Emmet said, glaring at Brian. “I’m leaving next week! Doctor Blake says I’m as good as new!” Emmett clapped his hands like a seal, accepted Melanie’s and Michael’s congratulations. Brian looked at Justin who was sitting on he floor, his legs tucked under his chin and watching it all with a frown. He waited for the blond to say something, anything, to congratulate Emmett, to explain that he’d miss the man. Justin only bit his lip, then got to his feet quickly and left the room.
Ever since Justin had spoken to him Brian kept waiting for the blond to speak again, to say something to his friends, or one of the nurses. Instead, Justin remained silent, behaved, in fact, as if nothing had changed at all. Except at night sometimes when he would crawl into Brian’s bed, tuck his body safely between Brian and the wall, holding Brian’s arms tightly around him, and only then would he whisper. He hadn’t yet spoken much, a few sentences about something safe. Brian could understand that speaking would be difficult for Justin, he could not, though, understand why Justin had spoken to him and not to Emmett. Why Justin had not said a word to the man who had been with him at Liberty for so long.
“I’ll get him,” Brian said, when Emmett looked worriedly toward the door. Michael and Melanie hadn’t noticed Justin’s quick exit, they were still caught-up with the good news, happy for their friend.
Brian found Justin in their room, sitting on his bed with his back to the wall, his knees bent before him, and Gus-bear sitting in his lap. Brian settled himself at the foot of Justin’s bed, at the blonde’s feet. The silence was companionable; Brian could understand that Justin would be upset. Emmett was a good friend, had been at Liberty for well over a year and had spent every moment of that time with Justin. If Justin had no intention of leaving Liberty, this would be how his life was spent -- growing close to people who would leave him eventually, when they were free.
“Are you okay?” Brian asked, placing a hand on Justin’s foot. Blue eyes were watering, but the tears were not falling yet. Justin huffed, his breath blowing the blond locks around his face upwards. “I didn’t think so,” Brian said, which earned him a rueful smile and a nudge by one of Justin’s feet.
........................
Brian looked at the sheet of paper Lindsay had handed him. “What the fuck is this?” he asked.
“I’m being unconventional,” she said. “That seems to work better with you. That’s a list of signs of post-traumatic stress.”
“That’s nice,” he said, handing the sheet back.
“Take a look at it for a moment,” she said. “How many of those can you relate to?”
“None,” Brian asked, barely glancing at the sheet.
“A longer look than that,” she said.
Brian looked at the sheet. He didn’t have flashbacks, but he had nightmares. Most of the outward signs, he didn’t have. He didn’t mind touch, had never self-mutilated and could easily regulate his basic bodily functions. The majority of the things on the list had nothing to do with him. He shrugged and handed the list back.
“I want you to see where I think some of your behaviours are coming from,” Lindsay said, accepting the list back. “Your trouble trusting people, the feelings of dysphoria you’ve spoken about that you deal with by drinking, taking recreational drugs and having casual sex.” Brian shifted in his seat, wanting simultaneously to run from the room and to hear more. As much as Brian’s instinct was kicking in, telling him to forget this, to get out of there, he didn’t need to take this; he knew that what Lindsay was saying was important to listen to. “Brian, you’ve internalized these experiences, that’s how you dealt with it. I want to tell you, though, that tucking all of this away isn’t dealing with it. It’s anything but.” He snorted and looked away from her.
Lindsay stood from her desk, pulled something from a drawer and returned. Lindsay was almost exactly what Brian expected a therapist to be like. She used phrases like ‘how did that make you feel?’ and had perfected the stilted compassion that he had always associated with someone who you paid to help you. Sometimes, though, Lindsay caught him completely off-guard, and whenever she did, he got the feeling that she wasn’t all what she appeared to be. “I have a workbook for you,” she said, pushing a booklet across her desk to him. It had a blue cover with black spiral rings holding it together. There was no title, nothing to suggest the contents. “We have them bound this way to offer you privacy. There are different kinds of workbooks, and no real reason for anyone but yourself to know which one you’re working on.”
Brian took the workbook from the desk, flipped open the cover to the front page where there wasn’t a title, but instead a quotation. “Don’t run away from it. Don’t bury it. Don’t try to produce a different reality getting all strung out on something, or eating your way through your feelings. Don’t slash your wrists. Just deal with it, because it’s going to keep coming back if you continue living anyway. It’s painful, but you just have to keep going. It’s just a part of life, really,[i]” Brian read to himself. He looked up and Lindsay smiled a little.
“You might not be ready to talk about it,” she said after a moment. “That’s okay. But I want you to work through this book so that at least you’re acknowledging it, and thinking it through. It will help. Until you feel ready to talk about it.”
...................
That night, Brian’s nightmares, which had abated slightly, returned full-force. He awoke not long after falling asleep with the sound of a shout echoing off the walls. The night-nurse asked if he wanted a sleeping pill, but he didn’t and said so. He held Gus-bear in his arms and thought about the blue workbook he’d shoved in the bottom of a drawer. He woke again in a cold sweat.
Justin had been asleep, but Brian’s second nightmare had woken him. Brian heard the rustle of sheets and quiet footfalls, then Justin sat down at the foot of Brian’s bed. For a moment, Brian lay quiet, feeling the heat from Justin’s body at his feet. Then, decision made, he threw back the covers and Justin slipped in between them. When Brian awoke again from a nightmare, his eyes flew open and connected immediately with blue eyes, he felt Justin’s fingers in his hair and Justin’s arm around his body. He fell asleep quickly and woke again in the morning.
.................
“How’s breakfast?” Brian asked, having closed the door to their room. Justin looked up from his cinnamon oatmeal and frowned. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but his eyes flickered to the door and then back to Brian, and he ended up closing it again and looking down at his bowl.
“It’s okay,” Brian said. “It’s just me,” he assured Justin. Justin glanced up briefly, his blue eyes somewhat glassy, then looked away. “You’re safe here.” Brian was struck by the irony. He didn’t talk, wasn’t much of a conversationalist. He could deliver a pitch, he could banter, he could entice, he could taunt and tease, he could make a person feel three inches tall. He was not one for interacting, though, not much for actual dialogue. Yet here was, finding that he was wanting to actually converse with his silent roommate. To talk to him.
...................
Justin spent a good deal of time avoiding Emmett. This afforded Brian more time to observe his roommate. He wondered why Justin would spend last week with his friend, avoiding him. Then again, Justin was likely too upset to deal with it at that moment. Brian wondered if Lindsay had given a workbook to Justin, or if Justin wouldn’t have filled one out. Lindsay had mentioned that she had several ways of working with Justin, but if the young man was willing to write things down in order to communicate it seemed likely that Lindsay would have a better understanding of what was going on than she did, and the nursing staff would have been using pads of paper to communicate with him. No, on further thought, it seemed as if Justin was refusing to talk and write.
So Brian watched Justin and realized that he really was the only person Justin trusted enough to speak to. Literally, the blond would tense whenever someone -- even one of the Gang -- came close when he had been talking. Even if Justin didn’t talk so much as whisper.
Brian assured himself that this was simply a pet-project. He spent his time after his sessions with Lindsay but before lunch sitting with Justin in their room and talking. In the hopes he could entice the blond into conversation. It seemed reasonable to think that the more comfortable Justin was talking in their room, the easier it would be to get Justin to talk outside of it. So far this plan had not been working.
“Brian, have you seen Justin anywhere?” Emmett asked, poking his head into the room Brian shared with the blond. When Brian merely shook his head, Emmett threw-up his hands and then stalked into the room, settling on Justin’s bed and grabbing a hold of Gus-bear. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about my leaving.”
“That would imply he doesn’t want to talk about it,” Brian said idly as he turned the page of his book.
“This is serious!” Emmett said. “We’ve been close for a long long time!” Emmett explained, as if Brian hadn’t known already. “I don’t want to leave if it’s going to upset him.”
“You can’t stay,” Brian said.
“I just want to talk to him,” Emmett said, collapsing in a swoon on Justin’s bed, still holding the teddy. “I want to explain things to him.”
“He’s not a child, he knows better than anyone how things work here,” Brian said, returning to his book.
Emmett lay there quietly for a moment before he sat up. “Could you just tell him that I was here and would really like to talk to him?”
“Sure, I’ll pass that on. Just like I’ve passed on every other message you’ve given me. And he’ll ignore it, just like he’s ignored every other message you’ve passed on to him.”
“Well, try!” Emmett said, before he turned on his heel and left.
......................
Brian returned from Lindsay’s on Thursday with a plan. He strode quickly through the halls, burst into the room he shared with Justin, relieved to see Justin sitting on his bed reading. Without explanation, Brian snagged Justin’s wrist, tugged him up from the bed and pulled him out of the room, back towards the exit.
Justin had first spoken to Brian in the middle of the night. He’d climbed over Brian’s body so that he could lie facing the wall, with Brian’s body between him and the door. Justin had kept Brian’s arms tight around him and even then, had only managed a whisper. In the passed week, Brian had barely been able to coax Justin to speak. Finally, Brian thought he understood what might be stopping the younger man.
It was overcast, the clouds hanging low in the sky, threatening rain. Likely because of the ominous weather, there were not many people on the patio, and no one in the garden. Brian kept a brisk pace, leading Justin down the steps until they were walking on the grass between the flowerbeds. They walked in a straight line away from Building Three, away from the all the buildings of Liberty, until they were at the spot where the garden began to slope down steeply and where the trees took-over the grass making a sort of perimeter of the grounds. Here, Brian released Justin’s wrist.
Justin’s brow was creased and he was looking at Brian with curiosity. “Do you see anyone here?” Brian asked. Justin cautiously looked around. “Anyone at all?” Justin shook his head. “Justin,” Brian said. He spoke slower, trying to convey what he meant. “There’s no one here. Do you see anyone?”
“No,” Justin said after a moment. He looked surprised as the word slipped out then he smiled. “Just you,” Justin added.
“It wouldn’t be much of a conversation if you were here by yourself,” Brian said, surprised that he was actually teasing. Justin nudged him with his arm and smiled wider.
“I don’t like talking where people can hear,” Justin said.
It seemed like an opening. Brian had questions that he could barely hold back and it seemed like the perfect segue. “Why?” he asked, cautiously. Justin shook his head quickly. “Okay,” Brian said, knowing it was hard enough for Justin without the added pressure of questions.
Brian had spent a great deal of time puzzling over Justin, and he’d realized that Justin had likely chosen to speak to him because he’d known that Brian wouldn’t push. Emmett would have been fully supportive of his friend, but he would have had questions that he wouldn’t have kept back. If Justin had spoken with Melanie or Lindsay, the expectation that he continue to talk and share things would put too much pressure on Justin, forcing him to talk about things that, at this point, Justin was still avoiding. Michael was unable to keep any kind of secret, especially from his mother.
“I want to just be normal for a minute,” Justin said. “Can we do that?”
“Sure,” Brian said, his tongue creeping into his cheek.
“Good,” Justin said. “Because then I can do this.” He grinned like the devil and pitched his body to the side. Brian watched his roommate roll down the grassy hill they’d been standing by.
“I don’t know how normal that is, Sunshine,” Brian called, Justin’s laughter drifted up the hill. It was loud and warm and the freest sound Brian had ever heard.
“Come on!” Justin called. “Roll yourself down!”
“No! That’s crazy!” Brian said.
“Well, that’s why you’re here isn’t it?” Justin called back. Brian could see Justin waving his arms, beckoning him down. “Come on Brian!” Justin called.
“Not a chance,” Brian retorted.
“Do you see anyone here?” Justin taunted, tossing Brian’s words back at him. Another challenge. Brian rolled his eyes and couldn’t help looking around. He sat carefully on the hill, and then lay down. For a moment he was still, but then he heard Justin’s voice: “Roll down!” and he twisted, starting his body on the tumbling descent.
The ground was rough under him. He hit a few bumps, scraped over some prickly spots of grass and tumbled to a stop at Justin’s feet, the blond laughing loudly. “I won’t tell a soul,” Justin promised, leaning over Brian, then offered a hand. “Come on, it looks like it’s going to ...” before Justin could finish it began to rain fiercely.
“Ah, shit,” Brian said.
“You aren’t afraid of wrecking your clothes, are you?” Justin asked whose own uniform already had mud around the cuffs of his pants. They ran up the hill, slipping on muddy patches and headed back to Building Three.
“Boys! Are you crazy!” Debbie yelled as she saw them running. She was standing under the roof of the patio, holding a stack of towels. “Get up here! Hurry!” There were others running to the safety of the building, Brian snatched-up two towels as they passed Debbie and hurried inside. They stopped at the foot of the stairs to dry off. Brian wrapped the yellow towel around his neck and grabbed Justin’s towel, plopping it over the blond head and towelling vigorously to dry Justin’s hair. When he pulled the towel back Justin looked torn, his lips working as if he wanted to speak, but his eyes were frightened.
“It’s okay,” Brian assured the blond. “You don’t need to say a word.” The gratitude that shone in the blue eyes was all the response Brian needed.
|<< [END CHAPTER] >>|
masterpost
[i] Quote by Soledad, from The Courage To Heal.