"Coup de Foudre" 122
Angst Alert!
Seriously!
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, August 2016
“Brian?” Justin tapped tentatively on the bedroom door. “It’s me. Can I come in?”
Nothing.
“Are you going in?” asked Michael. “You know what happened when Jimmy confronted him.”
Justin gave Michael a look. “I’m not Jimmy.” He knocked louder. “Brian? I’m going to come in, okay?”
Nothing.
Justin turned to Michael and Ted. “You guys go downstairs and make sure Jimmy gets his ass out of this house. If I can get Brian to leave, I don’t want him to see Jimmy still sitting here with that fucking smirk on his face.”
“He wasn’t smirking after that call to Tess,” said Ted.
“Maybe not,” said Justin. “But, as Brian would say, Jimmy is like a rash on your balls - fucking difficult to get rid of!”
Ted snorted. “And we’re the ointment?”
“Whatever it takes,” Justin replied. “I don’t care how you do it, but get him in that SUV and on his way to the airport. Here’s Brian’s cell.” He handed the phone to Ted. “Tess’s is the last number called. Don’t be afraid to call her again if he balks.”
“It would be a pleasure,” Michael said grimly.
Justin squared his shoulders. “Wish me luck, guys. If Brian doesn’t brain me with a lamp the moment I walk through the door, I actually may be able to stop this insanity - for now, at least.”
“Good luck,” said Ted. “I think you’ll need it.”
Justin waited for Michael and Ted to go downstairs before he pushed the bedroom door open. It was dark inside, but as his eyes adjusted he could see that the room was slightly illuminated by the light shining from the bathroom.
What he saw in that dim light was wreckage. Clothes were strewn all over the floor, furniture tipped over, stuff - it was hard to identify what exactly - shattered. And sitting on the carpet, leaning with his back against the bedstead, was Brian, his head buried in his folded arms. Justin heart skipped. He was so, so still, like he was unconscious. Or worse.
He walked gingerly across the room, shards of glass and broken plastic crunching underfoot.
“Brian?” Justin reached out and touched his right arm. “Brian? Can you hear me?”
Brian slowly lifted his head. “I can hear you, Sunshine. I’m not dead, I only wish I were.”
Justin slid down onto the floor beside Brian and put his arms around him. “Jesus! You scared the crap out of me!”
“You’re not the only one,” Brian sighed. “I’ve really made a fucking mess of everything, haven’t I?”
“It’s not your fault,” Justin asserted. “I never should have left the house.”
“And Jimmy and Gus never should have pulled the shit they were up to,” said Brian. “After you left I heard them in the hallway, congratulating themselves. I was furious at you… until I heard them. It was like a fucking fog had lifted and I could see what was going on for the first time. I should have realized sooner! I should have stopped it!”
“You had a head injury,” said Justin. “Your memory, your ability to process things… remember what Dr. Deutsch has been saying. It takes time. You’re just starting to get back that ability.”
“And they took advantage of me. My friend - supposed friend! - and my own fucking son!” Brian’s voice choked. “I’ll never forget this. Never!”
Justin squeezed his arm. “I won’t stick up for Jimmy. He’s a jerk and I’m glad he’s gone. But Gus is only a kid. I don’t think he understood the consequences of what he was doing. He never meant to hurt you, Brian. He only wanted to get rid of me.”
Brian blinked. “Jimmy’s really gone?”
“He should be leaving right now. Michael and Ted are downstairs making sure of it.”
Brian closed his eyes and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Everything is ruined now. Fucking ruined!”
“No!” Justin asserted. “It’s not ruined! You’re getting better and with Jimmy gone you’ll get better even faster. I’m here with you. Michael and Ted are here. Deb and Carl are behind you. We’re all behind you, Brian. You’ll be good as new before you know it.”
“You’re such a beautiful liar,” Brian murmured.
“I’m not lying,” said Justin. “Come on. Stand up.”
Brian winced. “Why the fuck?”
“Just do it.” Justin gave his arm a gentle tug. “How’s your bad shoulder?”
“Hurts. But it’s been worse.”
“You might have wrenched it while you were... running amok.”
“Just like Rage,” Brian said wearily. “Except Rage was never out of control for no fucking reason.”
Justin took his hand. “You’re bleeding.”
“No shit.”
“And your feet… Where are your shoes?”
Brian shrugged. “Who knows?”
“I want you to come into the bathroom, but I don’t want you walking on anything sharp,” said Justin. “Hang on.” He looked around. What he needed was a dustpan, but there was no time to go and look for one. Instead he carefully made his way to the bathroom, which was untouched by Brian’s rampage, and took a bath towel off the rack. Then he used the towel to sweep away the worse of the wreckage.
“Go slowly,” he instructed Brian. And they moved toward the bathroom.
“I think I fucked up my feet, too,” said Brian.
“I’ll take care of them,” said Justin. “Here.” He put the lid down on the toilet. “Sit down.” Justin gently picked up Brian’s feet, one at a time. He loved those feet, long and graceful. “You’ve cut the shit out of them, just like your hands.”
“Figures,” said Brian. “I can’t feel anything. I’m fucking numb.”
Justin ran the water until it was warm, but not too hot. Then he washed the blood off Brian’s hands and feet with a clean washcloth. He examined them closely, looking for glass or bits of plastic or wood that might be embedded there. He knew he should take Brian to the Emergency Room, but he knew Brian would refuse to go, thinking it was a trick to get him shut away. Justin took a bottle of peroxide out of the medicine cabinet and cleaned every cut and scratch.
“Sorry, Sunshine.”
“Don’t apologize,” said Justin. “Shit happens.”
“Yeah,” Brian sniffed. “Shit just follows me around like a fucking black cloud.”
Justin smiled ruefully. “I thought your motto was ‘no apologies’?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Okay, can you stand up?”
“Of course.” Brian stood. He was a little unsteady, but otherwise seemed fine. “See? My brain might be damaged, but I can still walk and talk… and jerk off.”
Justin couldn’t help but laugh. “I know… from personal experience.”
“Fucking brat.”
“You know it. Now wait here. I’m going to get some stuff to take with us.”
Brian frowned. “Where are we going?”
“To the loft. We need to get the hell out of this house for now. We both need to decompress and the loft is the best place to do it.”
Brian swallowed. “Thank God.”
Justin went back out into the bedroom and carefully made his way over to the dresser. The TV was smashed and the CD player was upended on the floor, broken CD’s strewn all over. Justin retrieved a couple of clean tee shirts and shorts from the drawer. Then he checked the closet, pulling out a pair of Nikes that had fairly thick soles. He didn’t bother to take any socks. He could always come back later and get more clothes after the room was cleaned up. But for now Brian only needed shoes to get him out of the room and out of the house. He shoved the underwear into Brian’s gym bag and went back to the bathroom.
“Put these on,” said Justin, handing him the shoes.
Brian put them on, but Justin could tell the cuts on his feet hurt. There was a box of Band-Aids in the medicine cabinet, so Justin took them and the bottle of peroxide, too. Anything else they needed he could get tomorrow at the drugstore on Liberty Avenue.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“I thought I heard a door slam. Outside,” said Brian.
Justin went to the window and looked out. “Jimmy’s SUV. He’s leaving. Now we don’t have to see him.”
“Good.”
“Let’s go. Be careful where you step.”
Justin opened the door of the bedroom. Standing in the hallway, his face streaked with tears, was Gus. He no longer looked like a snarky, defiant teenager, but like a terrified child.
“Daddy!” He took a step toward Brian.
“No!” Brian cried, recoiling from his son.
Gus stopped in his tracks. “Where are you going?”
“We’re going away for a few days,” said Justin evenly. “Until things settle down.”
“But… but what about me?” Gus was shaking.
“It’s okay,” said Justin, his heart breaking for the boy. “We’ll be back soon. Carmel’s here to take care of you until then.”
“No,” Brian repeated. “We’re not coming back.”
Justin looked up at him. “Yes, we are. Like I said, as soon as things settle down.”
“But he’s not going to be here,” said Brian, his face a rigid mask. “I want him gone. I want him out of this house before I come back.”
Justin touched his hand. “You don’t mean that, Brian.”
“Yes, I do.” He stared at Gus. “When I was in your room… I know I was acting crazy. But I couldn’t help it. I remember what happened. I didn’t before, but I do now. It was you that caused the accident. You were pissed about Justin. You stole the Jeep and I went after you on the bike. But then… something happened. You stopped or swerved or… something. And that’s the last thing I remember… the motorcycle spinning out. You did it. And I think you did it on purpose!”
“No!” Gus cried.
“It was an accident, Brian,” Justin said. “I saw it. Gus didn’t mean to do anything. And he never meant to hurt you.”
“I didn’t!” said Gus tearfully. He moved towards Brian. “Daddy, believe me!”
“He did it,” said Brian. “It’s too late. I don’t care where you fucking go, just go. Get out of this house. Go home to your mother. She can have you. Because I’m done with you… and I’m not kidding.”
“Let’s go,” said Justin. “We’ll talk about this another time, when you’ve had time to cool down.”
“No,” said Brian. “I’m already cool. And I mean what I said. I won’t come back until he’s out of here.”
“Daddy! Please!” Gus tried to put his arms around his father, but Brian shook him off forcefully.
“It’s too late,” said Brian, his voice flat, emotionless. “I want you out of this house. And I never want to see your fucking lying face again!”
(Screencap of Randy from "Mr. Robot" courtesy of Kin)
Seriously!
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, August 2016
“Brian?” Justin tapped tentatively on the bedroom door. “It’s me. Can I come in?”
Nothing.
“Are you going in?” asked Michael. “You know what happened when Jimmy confronted him.”
Justin gave Michael a look. “I’m not Jimmy.” He knocked louder. “Brian? I’m going to come in, okay?”
Nothing.
Justin turned to Michael and Ted. “You guys go downstairs and make sure Jimmy gets his ass out of this house. If I can get Brian to leave, I don’t want him to see Jimmy still sitting here with that fucking smirk on his face.”
“He wasn’t smirking after that call to Tess,” said Ted.
“Maybe not,” said Justin. “But, as Brian would say, Jimmy is like a rash on your balls - fucking difficult to get rid of!”
Ted snorted. “And we’re the ointment?”
“Whatever it takes,” Justin replied. “I don’t care how you do it, but get him in that SUV and on his way to the airport. Here’s Brian’s cell.” He handed the phone to Ted. “Tess’s is the last number called. Don’t be afraid to call her again if he balks.”
“It would be a pleasure,” Michael said grimly.
Justin squared his shoulders. “Wish me luck, guys. If Brian doesn’t brain me with a lamp the moment I walk through the door, I actually may be able to stop this insanity - for now, at least.”
“Good luck,” said Ted. “I think you’ll need it.”
Justin waited for Michael and Ted to go downstairs before he pushed the bedroom door open. It was dark inside, but as his eyes adjusted he could see that the room was slightly illuminated by the light shining from the bathroom.
What he saw in that dim light was wreckage. Clothes were strewn all over the floor, furniture tipped over, stuff - it was hard to identify what exactly - shattered. And sitting on the carpet, leaning with his back against the bedstead, was Brian, his head buried in his folded arms. Justin heart skipped. He was so, so still, like he was unconscious. Or worse.
He walked gingerly across the room, shards of glass and broken plastic crunching underfoot.
“Brian?” Justin reached out and touched his right arm. “Brian? Can you hear me?”
Brian slowly lifted his head. “I can hear you, Sunshine. I’m not dead, I only wish I were.”
Justin slid down onto the floor beside Brian and put his arms around him. “Jesus! You scared the crap out of me!”
“You’re not the only one,” Brian sighed. “I’ve really made a fucking mess of everything, haven’t I?”
“It’s not your fault,” Justin asserted. “I never should have left the house.”
“And Jimmy and Gus never should have pulled the shit they were up to,” said Brian. “After you left I heard them in the hallway, congratulating themselves. I was furious at you… until I heard them. It was like a fucking fog had lifted and I could see what was going on for the first time. I should have realized sooner! I should have stopped it!”
“You had a head injury,” said Justin. “Your memory, your ability to process things… remember what Dr. Deutsch has been saying. It takes time. You’re just starting to get back that ability.”
“And they took advantage of me. My friend - supposed friend! - and my own fucking son!” Brian’s voice choked. “I’ll never forget this. Never!”
Justin squeezed his arm. “I won’t stick up for Jimmy. He’s a jerk and I’m glad he’s gone. But Gus is only a kid. I don’t think he understood the consequences of what he was doing. He never meant to hurt you, Brian. He only wanted to get rid of me.”
Brian blinked. “Jimmy’s really gone?”
“He should be leaving right now. Michael and Ted are downstairs making sure of it.”
Brian closed his eyes and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Everything is ruined now. Fucking ruined!”
“No!” Justin asserted. “It’s not ruined! You’re getting better and with Jimmy gone you’ll get better even faster. I’m here with you. Michael and Ted are here. Deb and Carl are behind you. We’re all behind you, Brian. You’ll be good as new before you know it.”
“You’re such a beautiful liar,” Brian murmured.
“I’m not lying,” said Justin. “Come on. Stand up.”
Brian winced. “Why the fuck?”
“Just do it.” Justin gave his arm a gentle tug. “How’s your bad shoulder?”
“Hurts. But it’s been worse.”
“You might have wrenched it while you were... running amok.”
“Just like Rage,” Brian said wearily. “Except Rage was never out of control for no fucking reason.”
Justin took his hand. “You’re bleeding.”
“No shit.”
“And your feet… Where are your shoes?”
Brian shrugged. “Who knows?”
“I want you to come into the bathroom, but I don’t want you walking on anything sharp,” said Justin. “Hang on.” He looked around. What he needed was a dustpan, but there was no time to go and look for one. Instead he carefully made his way to the bathroom, which was untouched by Brian’s rampage, and took a bath towel off the rack. Then he used the towel to sweep away the worse of the wreckage.
“Go slowly,” he instructed Brian. And they moved toward the bathroom.
“I think I fucked up my feet, too,” said Brian.
“I’ll take care of them,” said Justin. “Here.” He put the lid down on the toilet. “Sit down.” Justin gently picked up Brian’s feet, one at a time. He loved those feet, long and graceful. “You’ve cut the shit out of them, just like your hands.”
“Figures,” said Brian. “I can’t feel anything. I’m fucking numb.”
Justin ran the water until it was warm, but not too hot. Then he washed the blood off Brian’s hands and feet with a clean washcloth. He examined them closely, looking for glass or bits of plastic or wood that might be embedded there. He knew he should take Brian to the Emergency Room, but he knew Brian would refuse to go, thinking it was a trick to get him shut away. Justin took a bottle of peroxide out of the medicine cabinet and cleaned every cut and scratch.
“Sorry, Sunshine.”
“Don’t apologize,” said Justin. “Shit happens.”
“Yeah,” Brian sniffed. “Shit just follows me around like a fucking black cloud.”
Justin smiled ruefully. “I thought your motto was ‘no apologies’?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Okay, can you stand up?”
“Of course.” Brian stood. He was a little unsteady, but otherwise seemed fine. “See? My brain might be damaged, but I can still walk and talk… and jerk off.”
Justin couldn’t help but laugh. “I know… from personal experience.”
“Fucking brat.”
“You know it. Now wait here. I’m going to get some stuff to take with us.”
Brian frowned. “Where are we going?”
“To the loft. We need to get the hell out of this house for now. We both need to decompress and the loft is the best place to do it.”
Brian swallowed. “Thank God.”
Justin went back out into the bedroom and carefully made his way over to the dresser. The TV was smashed and the CD player was upended on the floor, broken CD’s strewn all over. Justin retrieved a couple of clean tee shirts and shorts from the drawer. Then he checked the closet, pulling out a pair of Nikes that had fairly thick soles. He didn’t bother to take any socks. He could always come back later and get more clothes after the room was cleaned up. But for now Brian only needed shoes to get him out of the room and out of the house. He shoved the underwear into Brian’s gym bag and went back to the bathroom.
“Put these on,” said Justin, handing him the shoes.
Brian put them on, but Justin could tell the cuts on his feet hurt. There was a box of Band-Aids in the medicine cabinet, so Justin took them and the bottle of peroxide, too. Anything else they needed he could get tomorrow at the drugstore on Liberty Avenue.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“I thought I heard a door slam. Outside,” said Brian.
Justin went to the window and looked out. “Jimmy’s SUV. He’s leaving. Now we don’t have to see him.”
“Good.”
“Let’s go. Be careful where you step.”
Justin opened the door of the bedroom. Standing in the hallway, his face streaked with tears, was Gus. He no longer looked like a snarky, defiant teenager, but like a terrified child.
“Daddy!” He took a step toward Brian.
“No!” Brian cried, recoiling from his son.
Gus stopped in his tracks. “Where are you going?”
“We’re going away for a few days,” said Justin evenly. “Until things settle down.”
“But… but what about me?” Gus was shaking.
“It’s okay,” said Justin, his heart breaking for the boy. “We’ll be back soon. Carmel’s here to take care of you until then.”
“No,” Brian repeated. “We’re not coming back.”
Justin looked up at him. “Yes, we are. Like I said, as soon as things settle down.”
“But he’s not going to be here,” said Brian, his face a rigid mask. “I want him gone. I want him out of this house before I come back.”
Justin touched his hand. “You don’t mean that, Brian.”
“Yes, I do.” He stared at Gus. “When I was in your room… I know I was acting crazy. But I couldn’t help it. I remember what happened. I didn’t before, but I do now. It was you that caused the accident. You were pissed about Justin. You stole the Jeep and I went after you on the bike. But then… something happened. You stopped or swerved or… something. And that’s the last thing I remember… the motorcycle spinning out. You did it. And I think you did it on purpose!”
“No!” Gus cried.
“It was an accident, Brian,” Justin said. “I saw it. Gus didn’t mean to do anything. And he never meant to hurt you.”
“I didn’t!” said Gus tearfully. He moved towards Brian. “Daddy, believe me!”
“He did it,” said Brian. “It’s too late. I don’t care where you fucking go, just go. Get out of this house. Go home to your mother. She can have you. Because I’m done with you… and I’m not kidding.”
“Let’s go,” said Justin. “We’ll talk about this another time, when you’ve had time to cool down.”
“No,” said Brian. “I’m already cool. And I mean what I said. I won’t come back until he’s out of here.”
“Daddy! Please!” Gus tried to put his arms around his father, but Brian shook him off forcefully.
“It’s too late,” said Brian, his voice flat, emotionless. “I want you out of this house. And I never want to see your fucking lying face again!”
(Screencap of Randy from "Mr. Robot" courtesy of Kin)