Comfort

Kylia

Email: Kylia
Disclaimer: Nobody belongs to me, unfortunately. They belong to Cowlip, Showtime, yada, yada, yada.
Rating: R
Spoilers: Episode 204
Fandom: QAF - US version
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Distribution: List archives, my site, anyone else, ask and you shall receive
Web Version: http://www.sockiipress.org/~kyliasworld/Fic/QAF/comfort.html
Author's Notes: This is only the second QAF story I've written. Feedback
welcomed, Constructive criticism appreciated, Flames laughed at. *g*
Dedication: Liz, as always *g*

Summary: Gap-filler for ep 204 - Justin's POV

"You gonna be alright, honey?"

I nod but I'm not entirely certain what it was exactly he was asking me. I heard the words, but the underlying question was 'is it okay for him to leave me alone?' and I'm not entirely certain it is.

It's weird, I've been out of the hospital for a few weeks, and most of that time has been hell. At first because I felt so isolated. I wasn't alone, in the physical sense, but I might as well have been. My mom, I love her, but she can't protect me from everything. She couldn't protect me from school bullies when I was seven, she couldn't protect me from my own decisions, and my father's hatred, and she can't protect me from the world. Even if she could, I wouldn't want her too.

Even when I couldn't sleep more than a few minutes without a terrifying nightmare about something I couldn't even remember, I didn't want that protection. She tried, and I love her for that, but it wasn't what I wanted, what I *needed*. I wasn't even sure what it was that I needed, only that it was Brian who could give it to me. But even with him I felt isolated, at first. I couldn't remember anything. I couldn't remember the prom, or the fact that he came, that we danced or that he *kissed* me, if front of everyone. I couldn't remember the walk out to the parking garage, or what happened afterwards.

I couldn't deal with people, whether they were touching me, or just *watching* and I couldn't be left inside my own head, even as Swiss-cheesed as it was. It was almost a relief to remember everything. Almost.

I still had anxiety attacks, and couldn't bear to be touched. Even when it was Brian I had to consciously remind myself that it was him, it was okay. He was so patient with me, that I slowly started to get a grip. If I didn't think to hard about Hobbs, or what he'd done, or about the fact that I couldn't draw, I was okay, mostly.

Things started to get better, but I still had the nightmares. Waking up, lying next to Brian helped. It reminded me that I wasn't alone, and I wasn't isolated either. I was doing better.

I *thought* I was doing better.

Then I saw *him* again. The bastard that did this to me in the first place. Chris Hobbs. And at the hospice of all places. What kind of person assigns a homophobe, convicted of a gay bashing to work off his community service at an AIDS hospice?

When I first came down the stairs and stepped into the hall, and saw him, I thought for sure I was seeing things. That I had somehow slipped into another nightmare. Another example of my out of control fears taking on things from my real life.

If that had been the case, I could have woken up, a little freaked out maybe, but with the knowledge that it hadn't *really* happened. No such luck. It was real.

I just stood there, staring at him for a second, his words effecting me more than they should have the power to. I *knew* that I couldn't believe anything that he said. I knew that, I really did, but they effected me anyway. I looked into his eyes and didn't see a single trace of remorse. There was nothing in there that told me that he might have been sorry for what happened. That he might have realized that things had gone too far.

He hated me. He blamed me. He had nearly killed me, and still, it was somehow my fault, like I *deserved* everything that I had gotten, and maybe more. When he had said everything he wanted to, when he had finished telling me how he hoped I died, how it was *better* than I deserved, he turned away from me, continued mopping the floor, as if he couldn't even be bother to *look* at me. I stood frozen for a second, and then I walked out of the room. I knew it was cowardly of me to walk away like that, to let anything he had to say bother me, to not do or say *something*, but wasn't that what had started all this to begin with?

I went back upstairs and waited outside of Godiva's room. The minute Emmett came out, he knew something was wrong, that something had happened. I think if it had been anyone else, other than Brian, I wouldn't have said anything. I would have pretended that I was just tired. But it *was* Emmett so I asked him to take me home.

Once we were on our way back to the loft, I told Emmett what happened. He didn't say anything, just helped me over to the couch and sat me down.

That was fifteen minutes ago.

"Maybe you should go lie down, baby."

I shake my head. I'm not tired. I'm just sort of.stunned. I think a part of me never really expected to see Hobbs again. I never thought I'd have to come face to face with him and *deal*. We don't exactly travel in the same circles.

"You want me to call Brian?" Emmett asks quietly going into the kitchen and bringing me back a bottle of water.

"No." I whisper. "I'm okay."

"Sure you are, honey." Emmett tells me as he opens the water and sets it down.

He sits next to me and pulls me into his arms. I tense at the touch but he pretends not to notice and rubs my arm until I relax.

We're silent for a few minutes until I turn my head and look at him. "I'm, um, sorry about earlier. Did you. say goodbye?"

He closes his eyes for a second and nods quietly.

We sit together in silence, each thinking our own thoughts. "You can go. I'm okay." I tell him after a few minutes.

Emmett looks at me seriously for a second, then nods once and rises off the couch. "Call me if you need anything, honey." He leaves me alone in the silence, surrounded only by my own thoughts.

****

I wake up a few hours later to a darkened loft. I can hear whispering and the stumbling around that tells me that Brian is home. He seems drunk but he isn't really. I can tell. When I come downstairs and tell him what happened he takes me into his arms, just like I knew he would.

I take comfort from his embrace in a way I never could from Emmett.

Brian tells me to get some sleep. I have a big day tomorrow, he says. When I tell him that I'm not going, I can tell he's upset. I can see the pain in his eyes when I ask him what I'm supposed to be proud of but I can't take it back, so I walk away instead.

I hear him arguing with Michael, and I hear Michael walk out, pissed off. For a minute I think that Brian's going to go after him, but instead he comes and sits on the bed next to me. He doesn't say anything to me, just pulls me into his arms.

I know he wants me to go, and I know why, and it has nothing to do with the parade, or it being my first pride. If I really had no interest in attending, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't make me go. But I really did want to go. Until this afternoon, I was really excited about it. Brian just doesn't want Chris Hobbs to win. I get that, but I'm not sure I can be brave and do it.

Brian doesn't say anymore, not with words, but I can feel him erasing the stress of the day, in his touch, and the strength he gives me.

And in the love he feels for me, even when he can't say the words.

End