FIC: Repost, 'Dear John Doe', AU. Complete.
Title: Dear John Doe 1/2 (Repost, Complete)
Author: spuzz
Rating: R
Summary: Post 110, AU. Brian is not a crisis counselor.
Disclaimer: Do not own them, never will.
Author's Note: Reposting this because I recently finished editing and reviewing it so it is now officially complete. Minor scripting and dialogue changes with additional editing. Nothing major.
He was standing on the curb talking to a man in a suit. He looked like shit, Brian hardly would have recognized him otherwise. He was wearing layers for the cold; a hoodie, a torn up jacket, gloves that were falling apart and he was backed by three other boys standing behind him.
Brian crossed the street without even thinking about it. It had been three fucking years but that fucking face still bothered him and stalked him around town. It stalked around Debbie not to mention he had seen more of Jennifer Taylor in the last three years than he would have ever liked.
And there he was- is- standing in front of him and staring at him blankly. As if the little shit didn't remember him..."Justin."
Justin blinked, "yeah?"
Brian rolled his eyes and grabbed his arm, "come on we need to talk."
Justin snorted and slipped out of his grasp, "I'm sorry I don't go anywhere with strangers."
"Listen you little shit, we have things to discuss," he reached for Justin's arm again but the kid stepped back, "I've had my tongue up your ass, I think that's as far away from strangers as you can get."
"Are you psychotic? Do you know how many guys have had their shit 'name a appendage' up my ass?"
Brian blinked, "stop fucking around Justin, you need to come home. Now."
"I am home." Justin turned back and started towards the gaggle of boys. Hustlers, now that he looked closer. Fucking hustlers, Justin was fucking hustling. He was going to kill him and then Jennifer Taylor was going to kill him. He did not intend to die from a homicidal mother.
He tried a different approach. He walked up to Justin and used his softest voice, "your mom wants to see you, everyone wants to see you Justin."
Justin's face remained frustratingly blank, "what the fuck do you know about my mother?"
"More than you do at this point."
"Yeah I would fucking think so genius. You know my family?" Justin had finally changed expressions, although what this one was, he couldn't really tell. Some mixture of a thousand different feelings from someone who didn't express them often.
"Of course I fucking know your family."
"Where do they live?"
Brian felt something odd sinking in, "in Pittsburgh."
Justin stared at him for a moment, "I'm from Pittsburgh," is all he said, almost to himself, in a quiet soft voice.
"Justin! Lets go, we're getting pizza!" One of the boys called. Brian blocked his path and held onto his arm.
"I'll take you to a fucking four star restaurant if you come with me," Justin's face had slid back to blank, "and I'll pay you."
Justin looked back at the boys who were waiting and then at Brian, "how much?"
*
Justin looked decidedly uncomfortable in this setting. He had refused the offer of a jacket and refused to let go of any of his possessions including the ratty shoulder bag which was now resting in his lap. Brian had to shell out 200 dollars to bribe the maitre'd to let Justin pass. He kept looking around uncomfortably, eyeing the women in diamonds and pearls and the men in suits, but his eyes slid back to Brian once in awhile, probably waiting for Brian to say something.
"Do you have my money?"
Brian smirked, "after dinner."
"If you want me to fuck you it costs extra," that caused a few heads to turn, but Brian kept his eyes on Justin.
"I'll keep that in mind. How about we discuss some things first?"
"Like what?"
"Like what the fuck you are doing in New York, Justin."
Justin looked confused again, before he wiped his face clean of expression. Brian remembered a kid who couldn't help but express everything he felt. This kid or man really, was incredibly different. And under this light Brian wasn't even sure how he had recognized him. His face was all angles, sharpness. He had headed to the bathroom when they got here and washed his face and hands so the caked bits of dirt that was covering them up was gone. He was still stunning.
"I live here."
"No shit. You fucking ran away."
"I did, did I?"
"Yeah, with my fucking credit card, which you will be paying off."
"I'm not paying for shit," Justin started to get up from his chair but Brian reached over and shoved him back down. Thank Christ for the corner table.
"Calm down princess," Brian was getting frustrated, incredibly frustrated. They were talking in circles, Justin was far too closed off and Brian kept getting the feeling he was missing a huge part of this puzzle, "let's start at the beginning-"
Justin sneered, "lets."
Brian snarled, "great."
There was silence for a moment and then the waiter appeared. Brian ordered for them both and Justin remained completely impassive, watching Brian and then the patrons in the restaurant.
When the waiter was gone, Brian tried to figure out where to start. He knew how to talk to the old Justin, or he thought he did, but maybe he hadn't know Justin as well as he thought. Christ he had only known him for a short while before he ran.
Justin's face was completely blank and he seemed determined not to give away shit and was trying to make Brian sweat for information. Well he wouldn't, Brian only sweat when he fucked.
"So you're a hustler?" Not as subtle as Brian would have liked, but maybe direct was the right approach here.
"Appears so." Maybe not.
"When did you start doing that?"
"A few years ago," Justin narrowed his eyes, "is there something specific you want to know or are you just trying to get to know me better?"
"What the fuck happened to you? Why haven't you contacted your mother? Why the fuck didn't you come back to the Pitts if you were having trouble?"
Justin seemed to be carefully mulling over his answers then he seemed to dismiss them altogether, "50 bucks for each answered question."
"15."
"50 and that's final. Otherwise you can find your answers somewhere else."
Fuck. "I like the way you do business," when Justin didn't so much as crack a smile or flinch he said, "deal."
"I'm not sure what happened to me, I don't know any information about my mother and I didn't realize I had anywhere to go in the Pitts. That's 150 dollars."
"Yeah I passed the 1st grade, thanks. What do you mean you're not sure about what happened to you?"
"What do you think I mean? I mean I don't remember."
"You don't remember."
"Question or statement?"
"That was a statement smartass." Then the food came and Justin seemed disinclined to answer anymore questions. He didn't remember anything? What had caused that? He looked at Justin carefully. That's when he noticed the scar on Justin's forehead, it wasn't noticeable before because of Justin's hair, but he had pushed it back to eat and the dim light in the restaurant caused it to pop out. Brian frowned and ignored his food.
"Where'd you get that scar?"
Justin stopped eating, "I don't remember."
"There seems to be a lot of things you don't remember."
Justin swallowed hard and glared at him, "what exactly do you want me to do about that? And why the fuck do you care so much? You obviously knew me. Relation?"
Brian snorted, "we're not related."
"But you said you knew my mother."
"I do."
Justin didn't seem to like having the tables turned on him, Brian took pity on the kid.
"We fucked a few times, I had a vested interest in your survival and so did your mother obviously. You're from Pittsburgh and you ran away three years ago after a...incident. My turn, why didn't you try to contact anyone?"
"I would have, had I known. I woke up in a alley, bleeding from the head. I knew my name because of the sketchpad, the guy who-whoever left me behind- left them. I was rather apathetic about finding out who I was."
"Why's that?"
"Do you know how many Justin Taylor's there are in this country?"
"No."
"A lot."
"Well now we can bring the baby bird back to its nest," Brian said, his voice sickly sweet.
"No thanks."
"No thanks?"
"I'm fine here."
"Bullshit, your selling yourself on the street, you could have God knows how many diseases-"
"What are you? My mensch?"
"Your fucking mother is breathing down my neck-"
"Listen, are you listening? Fuck her and fuck you. I don't remember shit, so whatever happened before happened. Tell her I'm alive, tell her I'm selling myself on the streets, tell her fuck all, I don't care. You owe me 350 plus the 500 for even coming with you."
Brian blinked, "you kept track of that?"
"400."
"I'll pay you 1000 dollars to come with me to the Pitts."
"No. My 850 please."
"What if I don't pay? What if I want to fuck?"
"500 plus 500 that's a thousand now. And I'm not fucking you. My money, now."
"I have to get cash." Justin got up from his chair, pulling on his coat and rearranging his bag.
"Let's go."
*
Justin stared at him curiously as they walked to the closest ATM. Brian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, because how fucking surreal was it to be walking next to Justin Taylor after he dissapeared 3 fucking years ago. It was a like a bad acid trip that just pounded at his brain.
"How old was I when we fucked?"
"Why?"
"I'm curious."
"Thought you were putting it all behind you?"
Justin didn't say anything more, a block later they reached the ATM.
Brian cleared his throat, he needed to keep the kid within arms reach, "I'll pay you 400 dollars to come with me to my hotel."
"And do what exactly? Talk some more?"
"Or fuck."
"You don't need to pay someone to fuck you, I'm sure you get laid enough."
"How flattering, but I want to fuck you."
"And I don't want to fuck you, so give me my money and lets move on," Justin said.
"500."
"No, there is no bargaining. I'd like to get home before the muggers come out, my money please?"
Fuck. Brian was not letting this kid go, he was bringing him back to his hotel and then to the Pitts if he had to knock him out and carry him.
*
The guy was fucking nuts, hot sure, but fucking nuts. He refused to go anywhere near his hotel room and he certainly wasn't going to fuck the guy no matter how much he craved that money and no matter how hot the guy was, and he was hot. The hottest trick he had ever picked up. But he didn't really pick this one up, he picked Justin up and that's when it got weird.
Now here he was, not in the warm hotel room, which knowing how much money he unloaded because of a hustler, would have no doubt been 5 star. A hot shower, a warm bed, a nice long fuck. But no, the guy had to be psychotic.
He had ditched him at the ATM refusing the offers of higher and higher amounts of money. He may have forgotten everything else in his life but he still had his fucking common sense. For all he knew the guy could be making everything up. But then how had he known his name? It didn't matter anymore. He was home, safe (relatively) and with friends (almost.)
Trevor had accosted him right when he walked in, demanding all the "juicy details" of his night out. But Justin didn't share, anything. He had brushed him off and gone to his corner of the apartment, collapsing on the cot and clutching his worn jacket around him, carefully guarding the wad of money.
He dreamed of Brian, the eyes and the mouth and the fuck that they would have had, had Justin not been so fucking stubborn. He got up after a couple hours of wet dreams and went to Central Park with his notebook and mechanical pencil to sketch and not think about his mother and Pittsburgh and Brian. But what if it was true? What if he did have a family looking for him, a place to go back to.
Then again, what did it really matter now. He put down his pencil and stared straight ahead. What did it really matter?
*
Brian called Jennifer after a long hour of asking himself if he really wanted that kind of trouble. He did have work to do in New York, however insignificant, it had to get done. He called her anyway and braced himself.
"You found him?!" He could hear a squawking in the background that was Debbie, "is he ok? When are you bringing him home? Oh God, is he ok?"
"He's...fine. He's alive."
Silence on the other end, "what does that mean Brian? What's wrong with him?"
"Where would you like me to start?"
"Don't get smart with me Brian, I'm coming to New York."
"No. No, Jennifer do not fucking come here. I'll bring him back, I...fuck-"
"Promise me."
"Jennifer-"
"Promise me or I'm coming up there. And I'm bringing Debbie."
Brian was silent but he looked down at the flyer in his hand, Justin grinned back up at him and then the Justin last night: no smile, only a sneer and emotionless eyes, "I promise."
*
He went back to the corner and spotted the kids who were with Justin last night but they said he had stayed home. He paid them for their address.
It was totally decrepit which wasn't exactly surprising, it was the type of place with one communal
bathroom and 100 fucking residents so Brian completely understands Justin's need to wash up in a restaurant. He ignores the clenching in his chest when he thinks about how long Justin's been living in filth and how much Justin deserves so much better.
He carefully climbed the stairs, avoided the used needles, beer bottles and various trash on the steps and did not touch the railing because it had rats crawling up and down it.
He finally, after what seemed like years, reached the apartment and wondered if he should knock or just walk in because there is no way there is a lock on that fucking door. He decided to knock and he could hear feet patter to the door and when it opened it was irritatingly not Justin who answered the door but a campy queen who looked him up and down and cocked a eyebrow.
"All the boys in here are off duty. Wait for them on the street honey," he stopped the door from closing in his face and tried his most charming smile.
"I'm looking for Justin."
"Hmm, I don't think so," he tried to shut the door again but Brian stuck his leg inside and shoved the
kid aside. He walked in and cringed at the state of it. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible but the kid was still talking, "hey asshole, get the fuck out-"
"Where's Justin?"
A short laugh and he can here the kid tapping his foot on the wood, "out and about I'm sure, now
you should do the same. I'm sure tea at the Plaza is calling your name."
"Where does he usually go?"
"Do I look like his mother?" A noise from behind Brian and he turned to see Justin looking at him, confused and most likely pissed off.
"What are you doing here?" Justin didn't seem to notice the other kid, but the other kid noticed Justin's appearance and moved in closer to him.
"I've come to take you from this hell hole. You live like this?"
"Yeah well our cleaning lady quit after she found our pet rat."
"Funny. Get your shit, you're coming with me."
"Oh really? I wasn't aware we had plans." Justin walked past him without a glance and threw a notebook and pencil down onto a shitty looking cot. But that went without saying because everything in this apartment looked and was shitty. Christ. "You're stalking me now?"
"You used to stalk me," plan B was to feed Justin pieces of himself, little breadcrumbs to lead Justin to Brian.
Justin stared at him, his eyes burned a whole through his head and it made Brian feel a little hot and more than a little uncomfortable.
"I stalked you?"
Brian took a step closer and carefully kept the eye contact, "you thought you were in love with me-"
He could hear the other kid snort behind him, but he knew he was getting somewhere, Justin's eyes flashed and Brian smiled. He still had that romantic heart of gold somewhere. He took another step
closer, "you were quite infatuated and completely fearless-"
"Stop."
Brian stopped and waited. Justin didn't say anything but finally looked away, "stop what? I'm just telling you about your life. The one you have ample opportunity to go back to."
"What? Justin, what the fuck is going on? Who is this guy?" The roommate had finally spoken up. Brian turned and glared, he was getting somewhere and he didn't need this asshole ruining it.
"Don't you have a ditch to go crawl into?"
"Oh go fuck yourself. Just-"
"Shut the fuck up everyone," Justin's hand was on his head, covering his scar and he was wincing. Brian narrowed his eyes and took a step closer, he reached a hand out to touch him but Justin swatted it away and stepped back, his legs hitting the cot behind him, "don't touch me."
"Alright," But Brian really didn't have the patience to deal with this shit. The kid was coming with him now.
"Look-" Justin stopped and rubbed his forehead and then brushed his hair back and then tapped his foot. Brian was going to murder him, "if I go with you, I'm coming back here when we're done. There will be no happy reunion, no return of memory and no saving of my poor little soul. I'm going with you out of curiosity and because of the 1000 dollars you will be paying me."
"You trying to make me broke?"
"You can afford it, I'm sure. Deal or no?"
Brian grinned, "deal. Pack your shit."
*
Justin gently fingered the silk duvet in the hotel room. He had packed up everything in one bag and left Trevor gaping behind him. Brian had left him to his own devices, claiming work, but Justin was disinclined to trust him, but then again he couldn't care less what Brian was doing with his time.
He went to the window and peeked out of the sheer curtains at Central Park. He was antsy and couldn't decide what he wanted to do first: take a shower, watch T.V., sleep, or eat. So many good options with so little time. They were leaving first thing tomorrow morning and Justin's stomach was fluttering so much he thought he would throw up.
His mother. Christ, his actual living breathing mother. What was she like? Did he look like her? What had she been doing for 3 years? What was his father like? Did he have any siblings? There were far too many jumbled questions running through his mind and he was really going to throw up now.
*
Brian's foot would not stop tapping. He was about to chop his own leg off for posterity. Mr. Weinstein would not stop talking about their fucking font choices. Outwardly he was all nods and smiles and charm the fucking pants off of Mr. Fat Bald and Ugly, inside all he could think about was Justin. What was he doing right now? Probably trashing the hotel room just to spite him, the little shit. Or maybe he was taking a shower. Now there was a happy train of thought.
The morning after shower with Justin. Wet, slippery and smooth skin, hair plastered to his neck and forehead. He could fucking picture them now...fucking. Justin's hair was longer now, more to grab onto. He wondered if anything else had changed. Kid was probably skinny underneath those layers, skin probably just as pale and judging by his face and hands still unblemished and smooth.
His mind had wandered so far, the meeting was over. Finally. He shook their hands and patted them on the backs and then booked it out of there, hailing a cab quickly back to the hotel.
*
The shower was on when he got back, Justin's bag sat where he left it a few hours ago and it looked like nothing had been moved or touched since he left.
He went to the bathroom and opened the door, quickly pulling open the shower curtain. Justin sat curled up in the tub and he looked up in surprise.
"Fuck, you scared me."
"What the hell are you doing?"
Justin stood up and wiped water from his eyes, "nothing. Thinking."
"How long have you been in here?" Justin shrugged and glared when Brian turned the water off. Brian reached for the towel but Justin snatched it before he could and pulled it around his waist. He carefully stepped out of the tub and stood directly in front of Brian.
"Can you move?"
Brian took a step closer. Justin snorted and pushed him aside, "I'm not fucking you, so forget it." He dropped the towel to the floor and eyed Brian, "do you mind?"
Brian snorted, "you're a hustler and you pretend to have modesty? That's a new one."
"Yeah, well you'd be surprised at what turns some guy's cranks."
"Would I?"
"This banter thing is fun and all, but I'd like to get dressed," he gestured towards the door and Brian rolled his eyes but obliged. The door slammed shut behind him and Brian shook his head. He eyed Justin's pack and went to it. He picked it up, it was a little heavy. A messenger bag that had been taped up in several places, patched in a few more. It had doodles all over it, various New York City scenes done in plain black pen.
"What are you doing?"
Brian turned, startled but easily covered it up, "nice drawings."
"Thank you," Justin grabbed the bag from him and put it down on the desk.
"You drew a lot."
"I know that one."
"You had a showing, an art showing. At the Gay and Lesbian Center."
Justin smiled slightly, fingering some of the drawings on his bag.
Brian took that as a sign and flopped down on the bed, "what do you want to know before we see your mother?"
Justin shrugged and leaned back against the desk, "was I...how old was I when we met?"
"17."
"You fucked a 17 year old? Nice one."
"You don't know how old you are?"
"I'm 20."
"Well obviously, I mean before. You had no identification with you, no driver's license, no...credit card?" Brian waited for that. He had waited for months for that card to be used, for any activity at all. There was a 1000 dollar charge a few days after the kid disappeared, at Best Buy, but he knew that wasn't Justin. That's when he knew Justin didn't have anything. The kid was in NYC but that helped no one unless he knew where to look.
"No. Just a sketchpad, in a alley, bleeding from the head," Justin looked uncomfortable when this subject came up so Brian changed it before Justin clammed up again.
"Your parents were always pretty well off, still are-"
"My dad?"
"What about him?"
"You always talk about my mother, never my dad. What's he like?"
"He's a asshole, don't bother."
"Fuck you. You're the one with all the information, you can't just feed it to me when you want-"
"Why not? It's what's keeping you in this room isn't it?" Brian's eyes slid to Justin, still leaning on the desk, this time with his hands clenched on the desk behind him, "your father is a homophobic prick. He kicked you out of the house, he rammed his car into my jeep, he kicked me in the ribs several times. He doesn't care where you are, so you shouldn't give a shit about him."
"Why did I run?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
"You said it was a 'incident.'"
Brian sighed, "you were...staying with me for awhile. You forgot to lock up, it got robbed, I got pissed and exploded, kicked you out. You ran."
"So I had nowhere else to go."
"That's bullshit. You had plenty of other places to go."
Justin didn't say anything, just shrugged and looked down at his feet, "it probably didn't feel like it
for him at the time."
"You."
"What?"
"Not 'him', you. You're not two different people."
"But I am. You have all these memories of the Justin from before. I don't, all I have are my memories."
Brian certainly wasn't going to argue that point. It was like two different people, the old Justin was a bubbly puppy full of boundless energy. This Justin, this new Justin had two emotions: angry and sad and couldn't seem to muster any interest in Brian at all. It was different, Brian felt heartless enough to even say it was interesting, intriguing. It made Brian want to show this new Justin what the old Justin had been so infatuated with. It made him want to fuck all the memories back into him.
They had decided that they would share the bed. Justin slid carefully into it and scooted all the way to the edge. He could feel Justin slip into deep sleep, it was as if the bed got heavier as Justin relaxed into it. Brian scooted a bit closer and thought about all the things he could have said to Justin before he left, things to make the kid stay. Things to make the kid stay and fuck around with Brian, make up with his mom, graduate from St. James and get the fuck out of town.
Justin would have been a normal college student by now, being a snobby intellectual with all the other pissants that graduated from private school. Would Brian have still been fucking him? Would it have been a relationship? Brian was hard pressed to find truth in that idea, but he could almost imagine it, and maybe, just maybe, they would have been happy.
*
They arrived in Pittsburgh and it was predictably dreary outside. Justin looked grey and kept touching his stomach like he was sure he was going to throw up. Brian decided to hold off on visiting his mother. He ushered him inside the loft and watched Justin take it all in. He couldn't help but think that one of these places, one of these people would make Justin remember.
"Nice place."
"I know," he tossed his suitcase on the bed and shed his jacket, "make yourself comfortable." Brian watched Justin walk to the windows and look out into the city, touch the couch and glance at the kitchen, but he continued to stand awkwardly.
"How much time did I spend here?"
"A little bit. I mainly invited you over to fuck."
"How surprising," Justin said in a dry voice glancing at Brian. Brian strolled down the steps and
walked up to Justin.
"Sit down or something. You're making me fucking nervous."
"When do I see my mother?" Justin asked, but sat down on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.
"When you don't look like you're going to hurl all over her cardigan sweater."
"So...never then?"
"Tomorrow," Brian said and sunk down next to him on the couch, "you alright?"
"Fine. Just thinking."
"About what?"
Justin gave him a incredulous look, "the Mets. What do you think?"
"You have nothing to be nervous about."
"Ha. Yeah right. Nothing at all, just meeting the friends and family I obviously cared so much about 3 years ago. Who, by the way, I have no memory of. Nothing nerve wracking about that."
"They did care about you. But you ran to New York fucking City capital of the universe, millions of people crammed into a tiny space. With no paper trail. Be grateful-"
"Grateful? GRATEFUL?" Justin stood up, "I knew this was a fucking bad idea. You may know about my past, but you sure as fuck don't know about my present. I live in hell. HELL. You...fuck this. I just want to meet my mother and leave," Justin stalked over to the door, "lets go and get this over with."
*
The ride to Jennifer's was far too short and extremely quiet. Justin seemed to be vibrating from a overload of emotions, not surprising since the kid rarely seem to express anything but contempt. He was still in his ratty clothes, he had refused any offers to buy him new clothes or to even wear any of Brian's. The jacket looked ready to fall to pieces and was patched in several places. He had taken off the hoodie and was just wearing a shirt underneath. It looked constricting and far too dirty.
Brian took a deep breath as he pulled into Jennifer's driveway. He got out of the car but Justin just remained in his seat. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door.
"You alright?"
"Fine."
Brian waited. Then lost his patience, "you going to get out of the car?"
"Just give me a second or I'll hurl all over your leather interior."
Brian watched the kid take several deep breaths, one after another and put his hand to his stomach, rubbing lightly. Brian crouched down and laid a hand on Justin's cheek, "your mom loves you. There's nothing to be nervous about."
Justin rolled his eyes, but didn't move away from the hand, "we're not having that argument again."
Brian grabbed Justin's hand and pulled him out of the car, "come on, sooner you get this over with-"
"Right. No more comforting sayings alright? You're not good at them," Justin said. Brian led the way to the door, with Justin slightly behind him, Justin's hand still holding onto his.
Brian knocked lightly and looked back at Justin, who had gone grey, "Justin..."
"JUSTIN," Jennifer stood in shock, in the doorway and Justin stepped farther behind Brian. Brian tugged him forward by the hand he was still holding onto and into Jennifer's clutching arms. Justin stood stiff and didn't seem to know what to do. Jennifer started babbling randomly and gently running her hands all over Justin, "you look terrible and so skinny. Justin, I can't believe it."
She tugged him inside, holding his arm like in a vice and Brian followed them inside the condo.
*
Justin seemed to never get out of the awkward phase. He sat ram rod straight on the couch and kept glancing around warily.
Brian and Jennifer watched him from the kitchen and Brian finally told her, "he doesn't remember you."
Jennifer dropped the glass she was holding and out of the corner of his eye he saw Justin stand up from the couch at the loud crash. Brian shook his head at him and he sat back down. Jennifer stared at
him, "I'm sorry. There really wasn't time to tell you."
"Well," Jennifer didn't know what to say, "he has...amnesia? What happened?"
Brian shrugged, "he hasn't really talked about it much, also he doesn't really remember it."
"Has he been to see a doctor?" Then she must have realized what she said, "right. Of course not. Well, it doesn't matter now. He's home and that's all that matters."
"He's also not planning on staying here. In the Pitts." If Jennifer had been holding another glass, she would have lost that one too, instead she just stared at him, "I should have told you all this shit before but-"
"He's staying."
"You can't force him-"
"He'll see what a wonderful family he has and he'll want to stay," with that Jennifer returned to the
living room and to Justin.
Jennifer sat on the couch next to him, but seemed to notice his uncomfortable state and kept her distance. Brian leaned against the wall and watched Justin.
"So Justin...Well you have a sister, Molly, but she's out and about with her friends," Justin nodded his head and bit his lip, "I understand this has to be...odd for you. We looked for you, forever, but it was like you disappeared off the face of the planet," Jennifer's voice was cracking and Justin handed her the box of tissues. Jennifer gave a little laugh and took one.
Justin didn't seem to have any idea of what to say.
Jennifer cleared her throat, "so Justin, honey, what do you want to know about me? About your childhood? Better get you started on remembering huh?" She gave him a encouraging smile and Brian's heart clenched again. He was so used to determined, strong Jennifer he wasn't expecting to see this Jennifer. This was Jennifer as a mother.
Justin stared at her for a moment and then glanced towards Brian, "I'm not really sure I want to
remember Mrs. Taylor."
"Mom, please, call me mom."
Justin swallowed and looked away from Jennifer again, "right."
"Why wouldn't you want to remember?" Jennifer asked, "you have a wonderful family-"
"That I ran away from? Look, I think it's been too long-"
"It's never too long for a mother, Justin," Jennifer said and Brian looked away, "you ran away, yes, but you were a child and the situation really wasn't as bad as all that. I'm sure if you hadn't-well I'm sure if whatever happened to you hadn't happened, you would have been here and happy."
Justin said nothing at first, just blinked at Jennifer and then stood up, "look I have a home," Brian let out a short laugh at that, "and my own life, however shitty, it's what I know. I wanted to meet you and I did," Justin started towards the door and Jennifer hurried after him.
"Justin!" Jennifer's voice was desperate, "wait. Wait at least a couple days, meet the rest of the people who were in your life and then leave. But please, give me a few days with you," Jennifer took Justin's hand, "please."
Part Two
Author: spuzz
Rating: R
Summary: Post 110, AU. Brian is not a crisis counselor.
Disclaimer: Do not own them, never will.
Author's Note: Reposting this because I recently finished editing and reviewing it so it is now officially complete. Minor scripting and dialogue changes with additional editing. Nothing major.
He was standing on the curb talking to a man in a suit. He looked like shit, Brian hardly would have recognized him otherwise. He was wearing layers for the cold; a hoodie, a torn up jacket, gloves that were falling apart and he was backed by three other boys standing behind him.
Brian crossed the street without even thinking about it. It had been three fucking years but that fucking face still bothered him and stalked him around town. It stalked around Debbie not to mention he had seen more of Jennifer Taylor in the last three years than he would have ever liked.
And there he was- is- standing in front of him and staring at him blankly. As if the little shit didn't remember him..."Justin."
Justin blinked, "yeah?"
Brian rolled his eyes and grabbed his arm, "come on we need to talk."
Justin snorted and slipped out of his grasp, "I'm sorry I don't go anywhere with strangers."
"Listen you little shit, we have things to discuss," he reached for Justin's arm again but the kid stepped back, "I've had my tongue up your ass, I think that's as far away from strangers as you can get."
"Are you psychotic? Do you know how many guys have had their shit 'name a appendage' up my ass?"
Brian blinked, "stop fucking around Justin, you need to come home. Now."
"I am home." Justin turned back and started towards the gaggle of boys. Hustlers, now that he looked closer. Fucking hustlers, Justin was fucking hustling. He was going to kill him and then Jennifer Taylor was going to kill him. He did not intend to die from a homicidal mother.
He tried a different approach. He walked up to Justin and used his softest voice, "your mom wants to see you, everyone wants to see you Justin."
Justin's face remained frustratingly blank, "what the fuck do you know about my mother?"
"More than you do at this point."
"Yeah I would fucking think so genius. You know my family?" Justin had finally changed expressions, although what this one was, he couldn't really tell. Some mixture of a thousand different feelings from someone who didn't express them often.
"Of course I fucking know your family."
"Where do they live?"
Brian felt something odd sinking in, "in Pittsburgh."
Justin stared at him for a moment, "I'm from Pittsburgh," is all he said, almost to himself, in a quiet soft voice.
"Justin! Lets go, we're getting pizza!" One of the boys called. Brian blocked his path and held onto his arm.
"I'll take you to a fucking four star restaurant if you come with me," Justin's face had slid back to blank, "and I'll pay you."
Justin looked back at the boys who were waiting and then at Brian, "how much?"
*
Justin looked decidedly uncomfortable in this setting. He had refused the offer of a jacket and refused to let go of any of his possessions including the ratty shoulder bag which was now resting in his lap. Brian had to shell out 200 dollars to bribe the maitre'd to let Justin pass. He kept looking around uncomfortably, eyeing the women in diamonds and pearls and the men in suits, but his eyes slid back to Brian once in awhile, probably waiting for Brian to say something.
"Do you have my money?"
Brian smirked, "after dinner."
"If you want me to fuck you it costs extra," that caused a few heads to turn, but Brian kept his eyes on Justin.
"I'll keep that in mind. How about we discuss some things first?"
"Like what?"
"Like what the fuck you are doing in New York, Justin."
Justin looked confused again, before he wiped his face clean of expression. Brian remembered a kid who couldn't help but express everything he felt. This kid or man really, was incredibly different. And under this light Brian wasn't even sure how he had recognized him. His face was all angles, sharpness. He had headed to the bathroom when they got here and washed his face and hands so the caked bits of dirt that was covering them up was gone. He was still stunning.
"I live here."
"No shit. You fucking ran away."
"I did, did I?"
"Yeah, with my fucking credit card, which you will be paying off."
"I'm not paying for shit," Justin started to get up from his chair but Brian reached over and shoved him back down. Thank Christ for the corner table.
"Calm down princess," Brian was getting frustrated, incredibly frustrated. They were talking in circles, Justin was far too closed off and Brian kept getting the feeling he was missing a huge part of this puzzle, "let's start at the beginning-"
Justin sneered, "lets."
Brian snarled, "great."
There was silence for a moment and then the waiter appeared. Brian ordered for them both and Justin remained completely impassive, watching Brian and then the patrons in the restaurant.
When the waiter was gone, Brian tried to figure out where to start. He knew how to talk to the old Justin, or he thought he did, but maybe he hadn't know Justin as well as he thought. Christ he had only known him for a short while before he ran.
Justin's face was completely blank and he seemed determined not to give away shit and was trying to make Brian sweat for information. Well he wouldn't, Brian only sweat when he fucked.
"So you're a hustler?" Not as subtle as Brian would have liked, but maybe direct was the right approach here.
"Appears so." Maybe not.
"When did you start doing that?"
"A few years ago," Justin narrowed his eyes, "is there something specific you want to know or are you just trying to get to know me better?"
"What the fuck happened to you? Why haven't you contacted your mother? Why the fuck didn't you come back to the Pitts if you were having trouble?"
Justin seemed to be carefully mulling over his answers then he seemed to dismiss them altogether, "50 bucks for each answered question."
"15."
"50 and that's final. Otherwise you can find your answers somewhere else."
Fuck. "I like the way you do business," when Justin didn't so much as crack a smile or flinch he said, "deal."
"I'm not sure what happened to me, I don't know any information about my mother and I didn't realize I had anywhere to go in the Pitts. That's 150 dollars."
"Yeah I passed the 1st grade, thanks. What do you mean you're not sure about what happened to you?"
"What do you think I mean? I mean I don't remember."
"You don't remember."
"Question or statement?"
"That was a statement smartass." Then the food came and Justin seemed disinclined to answer anymore questions. He didn't remember anything? What had caused that? He looked at Justin carefully. That's when he noticed the scar on Justin's forehead, it wasn't noticeable before because of Justin's hair, but he had pushed it back to eat and the dim light in the restaurant caused it to pop out. Brian frowned and ignored his food.
"Where'd you get that scar?"
Justin stopped eating, "I don't remember."
"There seems to be a lot of things you don't remember."
Justin swallowed hard and glared at him, "what exactly do you want me to do about that? And why the fuck do you care so much? You obviously knew me. Relation?"
Brian snorted, "we're not related."
"But you said you knew my mother."
"I do."
Justin didn't seem to like having the tables turned on him, Brian took pity on the kid.
"We fucked a few times, I had a vested interest in your survival and so did your mother obviously. You're from Pittsburgh and you ran away three years ago after a...incident. My turn, why didn't you try to contact anyone?"
"I would have, had I known. I woke up in a alley, bleeding from the head. I knew my name because of the sketchpad, the guy who-whoever left me behind- left them. I was rather apathetic about finding out who I was."
"Why's that?"
"Do you know how many Justin Taylor's there are in this country?"
"No."
"A lot."
"Well now we can bring the baby bird back to its nest," Brian said, his voice sickly sweet.
"No thanks."
"No thanks?"
"I'm fine here."
"Bullshit, your selling yourself on the street, you could have God knows how many diseases-"
"What are you? My mensch?"
"Your fucking mother is breathing down my neck-"
"Listen, are you listening? Fuck her and fuck you. I don't remember shit, so whatever happened before happened. Tell her I'm alive, tell her I'm selling myself on the streets, tell her fuck all, I don't care. You owe me 350 plus the 500 for even coming with you."
Brian blinked, "you kept track of that?"
"400."
"I'll pay you 1000 dollars to come with me to the Pitts."
"No. My 850 please."
"What if I don't pay? What if I want to fuck?"
"500 plus 500 that's a thousand now. And I'm not fucking you. My money, now."
"I have to get cash." Justin got up from his chair, pulling on his coat and rearranging his bag.
"Let's go."
*
Justin stared at him curiously as they walked to the closest ATM. Brian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, because how fucking surreal was it to be walking next to Justin Taylor after he dissapeared 3 fucking years ago. It was a like a bad acid trip that just pounded at his brain.
"How old was I when we fucked?"
"Why?"
"I'm curious."
"Thought you were putting it all behind you?"
Justin didn't say anything more, a block later they reached the ATM.
Brian cleared his throat, he needed to keep the kid within arms reach, "I'll pay you 400 dollars to come with me to my hotel."
"And do what exactly? Talk some more?"
"Or fuck."
"You don't need to pay someone to fuck you, I'm sure you get laid enough."
"How flattering, but I want to fuck you."
"And I don't want to fuck you, so give me my money and lets move on," Justin said.
"500."
"No, there is no bargaining. I'd like to get home before the muggers come out, my money please?"
Fuck. Brian was not letting this kid go, he was bringing him back to his hotel and then to the Pitts if he had to knock him out and carry him.
*
The guy was fucking nuts, hot sure, but fucking nuts. He refused to go anywhere near his hotel room and he certainly wasn't going to fuck the guy no matter how much he craved that money and no matter how hot the guy was, and he was hot. The hottest trick he had ever picked up. But he didn't really pick this one up, he picked Justin up and that's when it got weird.
Now here he was, not in the warm hotel room, which knowing how much money he unloaded because of a hustler, would have no doubt been 5 star. A hot shower, a warm bed, a nice long fuck. But no, the guy had to be psychotic.
He had ditched him at the ATM refusing the offers of higher and higher amounts of money. He may have forgotten everything else in his life but he still had his fucking common sense. For all he knew the guy could be making everything up. But then how had he known his name? It didn't matter anymore. He was home, safe (relatively) and with friends (almost.)
Trevor had accosted him right when he walked in, demanding all the "juicy details" of his night out. But Justin didn't share, anything. He had brushed him off and gone to his corner of the apartment, collapsing on the cot and clutching his worn jacket around him, carefully guarding the wad of money.
He dreamed of Brian, the eyes and the mouth and the fuck that they would have had, had Justin not been so fucking stubborn. He got up after a couple hours of wet dreams and went to Central Park with his notebook and mechanical pencil to sketch and not think about his mother and Pittsburgh and Brian. But what if it was true? What if he did have a family looking for him, a place to go back to.
Then again, what did it really matter now. He put down his pencil and stared straight ahead. What did it really matter?
*
Brian called Jennifer after a long hour of asking himself if he really wanted that kind of trouble. He did have work to do in New York, however insignificant, it had to get done. He called her anyway and braced himself.
"You found him?!" He could hear a squawking in the background that was Debbie, "is he ok? When are you bringing him home? Oh God, is he ok?"
"He's...fine. He's alive."
Silence on the other end, "what does that mean Brian? What's wrong with him?"
"Where would you like me to start?"
"Don't get smart with me Brian, I'm coming to New York."
"No. No, Jennifer do not fucking come here. I'll bring him back, I...fuck-"
"Promise me."
"Jennifer-"
"Promise me or I'm coming up there. And I'm bringing Debbie."
Brian was silent but he looked down at the flyer in his hand, Justin grinned back up at him and then the Justin last night: no smile, only a sneer and emotionless eyes, "I promise."
*
He went back to the corner and spotted the kids who were with Justin last night but they said he had stayed home. He paid them for their address.
It was totally decrepit which wasn't exactly surprising, it was the type of place with one communal
bathroom and 100 fucking residents so Brian completely understands Justin's need to wash up in a restaurant. He ignores the clenching in his chest when he thinks about how long Justin's been living in filth and how much Justin deserves so much better.
He carefully climbed the stairs, avoided the used needles, beer bottles and various trash on the steps and did not touch the railing because it had rats crawling up and down it.
He finally, after what seemed like years, reached the apartment and wondered if he should knock or just walk in because there is no way there is a lock on that fucking door. He decided to knock and he could hear feet patter to the door and when it opened it was irritatingly not Justin who answered the door but a campy queen who looked him up and down and cocked a eyebrow.
"All the boys in here are off duty. Wait for them on the street honey," he stopped the door from closing in his face and tried his most charming smile.
"I'm looking for Justin."
"Hmm, I don't think so," he tried to shut the door again but Brian stuck his leg inside and shoved the
kid aside. He walked in and cringed at the state of it. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible but the kid was still talking, "hey asshole, get the fuck out-"
"Where's Justin?"
A short laugh and he can here the kid tapping his foot on the wood, "out and about I'm sure, now
you should do the same. I'm sure tea at the Plaza is calling your name."
"Where does he usually go?"
"Do I look like his mother?" A noise from behind Brian and he turned to see Justin looking at him, confused and most likely pissed off.
"What are you doing here?" Justin didn't seem to notice the other kid, but the other kid noticed Justin's appearance and moved in closer to him.
"I've come to take you from this hell hole. You live like this?"
"Yeah well our cleaning lady quit after she found our pet rat."
"Funny. Get your shit, you're coming with me."
"Oh really? I wasn't aware we had plans." Justin walked past him without a glance and threw a notebook and pencil down onto a shitty looking cot. But that went without saying because everything in this apartment looked and was shitty. Christ. "You're stalking me now?"
"You used to stalk me," plan B was to feed Justin pieces of himself, little breadcrumbs to lead Justin to Brian.
Justin stared at him, his eyes burned a whole through his head and it made Brian feel a little hot and more than a little uncomfortable.
"I stalked you?"
Brian took a step closer and carefully kept the eye contact, "you thought you were in love with me-"
He could hear the other kid snort behind him, but he knew he was getting somewhere, Justin's eyes flashed and Brian smiled. He still had that romantic heart of gold somewhere. He took another step
closer, "you were quite infatuated and completely fearless-"
"Stop."
Brian stopped and waited. Justin didn't say anything but finally looked away, "stop what? I'm just telling you about your life. The one you have ample opportunity to go back to."
"What? Justin, what the fuck is going on? Who is this guy?" The roommate had finally spoken up. Brian turned and glared, he was getting somewhere and he didn't need this asshole ruining it.
"Don't you have a ditch to go crawl into?"
"Oh go fuck yourself. Just-"
"Shut the fuck up everyone," Justin's hand was on his head, covering his scar and he was wincing. Brian narrowed his eyes and took a step closer, he reached a hand out to touch him but Justin swatted it away and stepped back, his legs hitting the cot behind him, "don't touch me."
"Alright," But Brian really didn't have the patience to deal with this shit. The kid was coming with him now.
"Look-" Justin stopped and rubbed his forehead and then brushed his hair back and then tapped his foot. Brian was going to murder him, "if I go with you, I'm coming back here when we're done. There will be no happy reunion, no return of memory and no saving of my poor little soul. I'm going with you out of curiosity and because of the 1000 dollars you will be paying me."
"You trying to make me broke?"
"You can afford it, I'm sure. Deal or no?"
Brian grinned, "deal. Pack your shit."
*
Justin gently fingered the silk duvet in the hotel room. He had packed up everything in one bag and left Trevor gaping behind him. Brian had left him to his own devices, claiming work, but Justin was disinclined to trust him, but then again he couldn't care less what Brian was doing with his time.
He went to the window and peeked out of the sheer curtains at Central Park. He was antsy and couldn't decide what he wanted to do first: take a shower, watch T.V., sleep, or eat. So many good options with so little time. They were leaving first thing tomorrow morning and Justin's stomach was fluttering so much he thought he would throw up.
His mother. Christ, his actual living breathing mother. What was she like? Did he look like her? What had she been doing for 3 years? What was his father like? Did he have any siblings? There were far too many jumbled questions running through his mind and he was really going to throw up now.
*
Brian's foot would not stop tapping. He was about to chop his own leg off for posterity. Mr. Weinstein would not stop talking about their fucking font choices. Outwardly he was all nods and smiles and charm the fucking pants off of Mr. Fat Bald and Ugly, inside all he could think about was Justin. What was he doing right now? Probably trashing the hotel room just to spite him, the little shit. Or maybe he was taking a shower. Now there was a happy train of thought.
The morning after shower with Justin. Wet, slippery and smooth skin, hair plastered to his neck and forehead. He could fucking picture them now...fucking. Justin's hair was longer now, more to grab onto. He wondered if anything else had changed. Kid was probably skinny underneath those layers, skin probably just as pale and judging by his face and hands still unblemished and smooth.
His mind had wandered so far, the meeting was over. Finally. He shook their hands and patted them on the backs and then booked it out of there, hailing a cab quickly back to the hotel.
*
The shower was on when he got back, Justin's bag sat where he left it a few hours ago and it looked like nothing had been moved or touched since he left.
He went to the bathroom and opened the door, quickly pulling open the shower curtain. Justin sat curled up in the tub and he looked up in surprise.
"Fuck, you scared me."
"What the hell are you doing?"
Justin stood up and wiped water from his eyes, "nothing. Thinking."
"How long have you been in here?" Justin shrugged and glared when Brian turned the water off. Brian reached for the towel but Justin snatched it before he could and pulled it around his waist. He carefully stepped out of the tub and stood directly in front of Brian.
"Can you move?"
Brian took a step closer. Justin snorted and pushed him aside, "I'm not fucking you, so forget it." He dropped the towel to the floor and eyed Brian, "do you mind?"
Brian snorted, "you're a hustler and you pretend to have modesty? That's a new one."
"Yeah, well you'd be surprised at what turns some guy's cranks."
"Would I?"
"This banter thing is fun and all, but I'd like to get dressed," he gestured towards the door and Brian rolled his eyes but obliged. The door slammed shut behind him and Brian shook his head. He eyed Justin's pack and went to it. He picked it up, it was a little heavy. A messenger bag that had been taped up in several places, patched in a few more. It had doodles all over it, various New York City scenes done in plain black pen.
"What are you doing?"
Brian turned, startled but easily covered it up, "nice drawings."
"Thank you," Justin grabbed the bag from him and put it down on the desk.
"You drew a lot."
"I know that one."
"You had a showing, an art showing. At the Gay and Lesbian Center."
Justin smiled slightly, fingering some of the drawings on his bag.
Brian took that as a sign and flopped down on the bed, "what do you want to know before we see your mother?"
Justin shrugged and leaned back against the desk, "was I...how old was I when we met?"
"17."
"You fucked a 17 year old? Nice one."
"You don't know how old you are?"
"I'm 20."
"Well obviously, I mean before. You had no identification with you, no driver's license, no...credit card?" Brian waited for that. He had waited for months for that card to be used, for any activity at all. There was a 1000 dollar charge a few days after the kid disappeared, at Best Buy, but he knew that wasn't Justin. That's when he knew Justin didn't have anything. The kid was in NYC but that helped no one unless he knew where to look.
"No. Just a sketchpad, in a alley, bleeding from the head," Justin looked uncomfortable when this subject came up so Brian changed it before Justin clammed up again.
"Your parents were always pretty well off, still are-"
"My dad?"
"What about him?"
"You always talk about my mother, never my dad. What's he like?"
"He's a asshole, don't bother."
"Fuck you. You're the one with all the information, you can't just feed it to me when you want-"
"Why not? It's what's keeping you in this room isn't it?" Brian's eyes slid to Justin, still leaning on the desk, this time with his hands clenched on the desk behind him, "your father is a homophobic prick. He kicked you out of the house, he rammed his car into my jeep, he kicked me in the ribs several times. He doesn't care where you are, so you shouldn't give a shit about him."
"Why did I run?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
"You said it was a 'incident.'"
Brian sighed, "you were...staying with me for awhile. You forgot to lock up, it got robbed, I got pissed and exploded, kicked you out. You ran."
"So I had nowhere else to go."
"That's bullshit. You had plenty of other places to go."
Justin didn't say anything, just shrugged and looked down at his feet, "it probably didn't feel like it
for him at the time."
"You."
"What?"
"Not 'him', you. You're not two different people."
"But I am. You have all these memories of the Justin from before. I don't, all I have are my memories."
Brian certainly wasn't going to argue that point. It was like two different people, the old Justin was a bubbly puppy full of boundless energy. This Justin, this new Justin had two emotions: angry and sad and couldn't seem to muster any interest in Brian at all. It was different, Brian felt heartless enough to even say it was interesting, intriguing. It made Brian want to show this new Justin what the old Justin had been so infatuated with. It made him want to fuck all the memories back into him.
They had decided that they would share the bed. Justin slid carefully into it and scooted all the way to the edge. He could feel Justin slip into deep sleep, it was as if the bed got heavier as Justin relaxed into it. Brian scooted a bit closer and thought about all the things he could have said to Justin before he left, things to make the kid stay. Things to make the kid stay and fuck around with Brian, make up with his mom, graduate from St. James and get the fuck out of town.
Justin would have been a normal college student by now, being a snobby intellectual with all the other pissants that graduated from private school. Would Brian have still been fucking him? Would it have been a relationship? Brian was hard pressed to find truth in that idea, but he could almost imagine it, and maybe, just maybe, they would have been happy.
*
They arrived in Pittsburgh and it was predictably dreary outside. Justin looked grey and kept touching his stomach like he was sure he was going to throw up. Brian decided to hold off on visiting his mother. He ushered him inside the loft and watched Justin take it all in. He couldn't help but think that one of these places, one of these people would make Justin remember.
"Nice place."
"I know," he tossed his suitcase on the bed and shed his jacket, "make yourself comfortable." Brian watched Justin walk to the windows and look out into the city, touch the couch and glance at the kitchen, but he continued to stand awkwardly.
"How much time did I spend here?"
"A little bit. I mainly invited you over to fuck."
"How surprising," Justin said in a dry voice glancing at Brian. Brian strolled down the steps and
walked up to Justin.
"Sit down or something. You're making me fucking nervous."
"When do I see my mother?" Justin asked, but sat down on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.
"When you don't look like you're going to hurl all over her cardigan sweater."
"So...never then?"
"Tomorrow," Brian said and sunk down next to him on the couch, "you alright?"
"Fine. Just thinking."
"About what?"
Justin gave him a incredulous look, "the Mets. What do you think?"
"You have nothing to be nervous about."
"Ha. Yeah right. Nothing at all, just meeting the friends and family I obviously cared so much about 3 years ago. Who, by the way, I have no memory of. Nothing nerve wracking about that."
"They did care about you. But you ran to New York fucking City capital of the universe, millions of people crammed into a tiny space. With no paper trail. Be grateful-"
"Grateful? GRATEFUL?" Justin stood up, "I knew this was a fucking bad idea. You may know about my past, but you sure as fuck don't know about my present. I live in hell. HELL. You...fuck this. I just want to meet my mother and leave," Justin stalked over to the door, "lets go and get this over with."
*
The ride to Jennifer's was far too short and extremely quiet. Justin seemed to be vibrating from a overload of emotions, not surprising since the kid rarely seem to express anything but contempt. He was still in his ratty clothes, he had refused any offers to buy him new clothes or to even wear any of Brian's. The jacket looked ready to fall to pieces and was patched in several places. He had taken off the hoodie and was just wearing a shirt underneath. It looked constricting and far too dirty.
Brian took a deep breath as he pulled into Jennifer's driveway. He got out of the car but Justin just remained in his seat. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door.
"You alright?"
"Fine."
Brian waited. Then lost his patience, "you going to get out of the car?"
"Just give me a second or I'll hurl all over your leather interior."
Brian watched the kid take several deep breaths, one after another and put his hand to his stomach, rubbing lightly. Brian crouched down and laid a hand on Justin's cheek, "your mom loves you. There's nothing to be nervous about."
Justin rolled his eyes, but didn't move away from the hand, "we're not having that argument again."
Brian grabbed Justin's hand and pulled him out of the car, "come on, sooner you get this over with-"
"Right. No more comforting sayings alright? You're not good at them," Justin said. Brian led the way to the door, with Justin slightly behind him, Justin's hand still holding onto his.
Brian knocked lightly and looked back at Justin, who had gone grey, "Justin..."
"JUSTIN," Jennifer stood in shock, in the doorway and Justin stepped farther behind Brian. Brian tugged him forward by the hand he was still holding onto and into Jennifer's clutching arms. Justin stood stiff and didn't seem to know what to do. Jennifer started babbling randomly and gently running her hands all over Justin, "you look terrible and so skinny. Justin, I can't believe it."
She tugged him inside, holding his arm like in a vice and Brian followed them inside the condo.
*
Justin seemed to never get out of the awkward phase. He sat ram rod straight on the couch and kept glancing around warily.
Brian and Jennifer watched him from the kitchen and Brian finally told her, "he doesn't remember you."
Jennifer dropped the glass she was holding and out of the corner of his eye he saw Justin stand up from the couch at the loud crash. Brian shook his head at him and he sat back down. Jennifer stared at
him, "I'm sorry. There really wasn't time to tell you."
"Well," Jennifer didn't know what to say, "he has...amnesia? What happened?"
Brian shrugged, "he hasn't really talked about it much, also he doesn't really remember it."
"Has he been to see a doctor?" Then she must have realized what she said, "right. Of course not. Well, it doesn't matter now. He's home and that's all that matters."
"He's also not planning on staying here. In the Pitts." If Jennifer had been holding another glass, she would have lost that one too, instead she just stared at him, "I should have told you all this shit before but-"
"He's staying."
"You can't force him-"
"He'll see what a wonderful family he has and he'll want to stay," with that Jennifer returned to the
living room and to Justin.
Jennifer sat on the couch next to him, but seemed to notice his uncomfortable state and kept her distance. Brian leaned against the wall and watched Justin.
"So Justin...Well you have a sister, Molly, but she's out and about with her friends," Justin nodded his head and bit his lip, "I understand this has to be...odd for you. We looked for you, forever, but it was like you disappeared off the face of the planet," Jennifer's voice was cracking and Justin handed her the box of tissues. Jennifer gave a little laugh and took one.
Justin didn't seem to have any idea of what to say.
Jennifer cleared her throat, "so Justin, honey, what do you want to know about me? About your childhood? Better get you started on remembering huh?" She gave him a encouraging smile and Brian's heart clenched again. He was so used to determined, strong Jennifer he wasn't expecting to see this Jennifer. This was Jennifer as a mother.
Justin stared at her for a moment and then glanced towards Brian, "I'm not really sure I want to
remember Mrs. Taylor."
"Mom, please, call me mom."
Justin swallowed and looked away from Jennifer again, "right."
"Why wouldn't you want to remember?" Jennifer asked, "you have a wonderful family-"
"That I ran away from? Look, I think it's been too long-"
"It's never too long for a mother, Justin," Jennifer said and Brian looked away, "you ran away, yes, but you were a child and the situation really wasn't as bad as all that. I'm sure if you hadn't-well I'm sure if whatever happened to you hadn't happened, you would have been here and happy."
Justin said nothing at first, just blinked at Jennifer and then stood up, "look I have a home," Brian let out a short laugh at that, "and my own life, however shitty, it's what I know. I wanted to meet you and I did," Justin started towards the door and Jennifer hurried after him.
"Justin!" Jennifer's voice was desperate, "wait. Wait at least a couple days, meet the rest of the people who were in your life and then leave. But please, give me a few days with you," Jennifer took Justin's hand, "please."
Part Two