Memories {A compilation of Britin short stories}

Story 13: Home

"Sorry. I....can we go home now. Please?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we can. You okay?"

"Not really." Justin felt like he was going to vomit. He hadn't really been outside since the bashing and crowds, people, and close contact still freaked him out.

"Hey, hey," Brian said gently, wrapping a tentative arm around Justin's shoulders. "Just breathe. We'll go back. Come on."

Justin wrapped an arm around Brian's torso trying not to focus on the people brushing against him on the streets. "Sorry. I thought I could do it."

Brian bent his head slightly to look at Justin's face. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "Don't worry about it, alright? We can try again tomorrow."

"I'm tired to being like this, Brian." His grip tightened around him. It had been a little over a month since the bashing and he still wasn't the same. It was getting frustrating.

Moving his arm off Justin's shoulders, his hand began slowly rubbing soothing circles across his back. "It's okay," he said reassuringly.

They made it back to the loft. Justin let go of Brian once they were inside and went to the bed. He laid down curled up, cuddling a pillow.

Sitting on the bed next to Justin, Brian continued to run a hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him. "You okay, Sunshine?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"I'm fine," Justin lied. He could feel himself shaking.

"You're shaking," Brian stated the obvious. A moment of silence passed between the two of them before he spoke again. "You were doing great. What happened?"

"I don't know. There were too many people touching me." I turned around to look at Brian.

Brian nodded his head, understanding. "And you're okay now?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He let out a deep sigh.

"Like I said, Sunshine, we'll try again tomorrow. Maybe at a different time, so it's not so crowded."

"Ok." Justin closed his eyes. It wasn't fair. He almost dies and has to live with the trauma, but Chris Hobbs walked away basically home free.

His brow furrowed as he watched the younger man's face. "You sure you're okay?" he asked. "Want me to leave you alone for a minute?"

"No. I'm fine." He grabbed Brian's hand. He didn't want close contact, but he didn't want Brian to be too far away either.

Brian didn't really know what to say. He simply sat there, letting Justin hold his hand.

"I don't like it when you look at me like that. Like I'm broken." He looked up meeting Brian's eyes.

Brian pulled his lips into his mouth and his eyes softened. "I'm not," he said quietly. "I'm not looking at you like you're broken."

"Yes you are. I'm not broken. I'm just...different. I'll be back to normal soon."

"No, I'm not." Brian moved then, getting off the bed and kneeling in front of it, in front of Justin's face. He reached up carefully, running his fingers through Justin's hair. "You're not broken, Justin. I wish you'd stop saying that."

Justin ran his hand down Brian's arm. "I can't go outside without having a nervous breakdown. I can't control my hand. I have nightmares all the time. What else am I supposed to call myself?"

Brian sighed. "I don't know," he said honestly. His fingers continued to stroke through Justin's hair and he tried to focus on the feel of it.

Justin relaxed under Brian's touch. His eyes closed slightly. "Maybe I wouldn't think that way if everyone stopped treating me that way. My mom, Debbie, even Daphne."