xie_xie_xie (xie_xie_xie) wrote in qaf_challenges, @ 2007-11-17 00:06:00 |
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Justin plodded through the door of the apartment he shared with his roommates. He shut it, secured the lock, collapsed on the couch, and started to laugh. What a day. His feet were throbbing and he was in dire need of a shower but at the moment he didn’t think he could move. He eyed the receiver of the cordless phone sitting on the coffee table. It seemed an awfuly long way away but, with a herculean effort, he hauled himself into a sitting position long enough to reach out and grab it before flopping back down again. Daphne was going to yell at him for calling so late, but this was too good not to share.
“’Lo?” She answered groggily in the middle of the fourth ring.
“You will not believe who I ran into today.”
“Wha…? Justin? Do you know what time it is?” Daphne groaned.
“It’s a quarter after two,” he replied cheerfully. Even though she was grumpy about being woken up, Justin knew that deep down, Daphne didn’t really mind that he’d called. They’d long since developed a philosophy of calling whenever they wanted to talk to each other. Most things besides work or school could be pushed aside temporarily to make time for their best friends. Besides, if they didn’t do that, they’d never talk. The number of hours that Justin wasn’t painting or waiting tables or out with friends or sleeping that coincided with the number of hours that Daphne wasn’t at class or studying or out with friends or sleeping were virtually non-existent. So what was losing half an hour of sleep when the alternative was possibly going another three or four weeks without talking to each other?
“Mmm… is it really?” she yawned. Justin could hear the rustle of sheets as she rolled over. “I actually feel like I’ve been asleep longer than that, amazingly enough. How was Pride?”
“A blast. I’d never tell Deb, of course, but no matter how much I love Liberty Avenue, the celebrations in the Pitts are nothing compared to Pride in Greenwich Village.”
“I’m sure.” Daphne sounded more awake now. “Who all went?”
“Marc, Josh and Eric, Jon, some friend of his named Ryan, Kelly and her new girlfriend Heather, and me.” Justin counted on his fingers as he rattled off names to make sure he wasn’t missing anyone. “But you will not believe who I saw at the March,” he repeated.
“I’m sure I won’t and you’re obviously dying to tell me, so go ahead,” she laughed.
“Ethan.”
“WHAT?!?” Daphne shrieked.
“I know,” Justin laughed. “Oh god, Daph, it was hysterical. We were just watching the parade and I heard someone calling my name. I ignored it at first because there’s always a million Justins around but it turned out it was Ethan. He made this huge production out of it, too, pulling me away from everyone and over to introduce me to his boyfriend and telling me all about how he finally decided to ditch his first agent because he just couldn’t stand to be closeted anymore. Whatever. And then he actually asked his boyfriend to give us a minute alone and he apologized for cheating on me. Like he seriously thought it was this horrible emotional trauma I must still be carrying around after all this time! It was so hard not to just laugh in his face because he was completely serious.”
“He would be. You should have laughed at him. That guy’s ego knows no bounds. I know things with Brian weren’t great for you back then but I still don’t know what you ever saw in him.”
Justin paused, not really sure what to say to that. Sure, he’d known at the time what Daphne thought of Ethan, had heard all her arguments against the way he’d wanted Justin to agree to hide their relationship for the good of his career. But once it was over, she’d never brought any of it up again – just focused instead on cleaning and bandaging his hands when he’d shown up on her doorstep in tears, his hands covered in scratches and blood. Then she provided a shoulder for him to cry on and a safe place for him to curl up and lick his wounds before finally deciding a month of that was enough and kicking him in the butt to quit moping.
“You know I wasn’t really myself then, Daph,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
They sat in silence for a minute, but it was a comfortable silence between best friends, the sort that doesn’t need to be filled with meaningless chatter or broken in a hurry.
“Justin?” Daphne finally said.
“Hm?”
“I’m glad you’re you again. I’m not even sure when it really happened –”
“Me neither.”
“ – but I’m glad you are,” she finished softly.
“Thanks, Daph … me too.”
He heard her stifle a yawn. “I should let you get back to sleep.”
“You don’t have to let me go,” she protested but there wasn’t a lot of strength behind it.
“Yeah, I do. I know what you’re like to be around when you don’t get enough sleep and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“Oh fuck you!” she laughed.
“’Night. I’ll call you soon.”
“You better. Goodnight.”
Justin clicked the phone off and dropped it on the couch. He kicked his shoes off and sighed. His bedroom seemed a long way away and he wasn’t all that motivated to gather the energy to get up yet and head that way. Besides, even if he went to bed now, he doubted he’d fall asleep.
His mind kept playing over what Daphne had just said about being glad Justin was himself again. That had felt good to hear. Really good, actually. He’d been coming to think that lately himself and hearing someone else recognize it too was something he hadn’t even realized he’d needed until she did it. He knew he wasn’t the same person that he was before… that would be impossible. But he wasn’t who he’d been in the time in between anymore either. And he recognized a whole lot more of who he was before in who he knew himself to be now than he had in a very long time. What he just wasn’t sure of was when things had changed. When he had really gotten back to being “Justin” again.
He knew, really, that it wasn’t something that had just happened. He hadn’t woken up one day and suddenly remembered how he used to be and decided to be more like that again. It was more of a journey that he’d been on ever since he’d woken up in a hospital room missing thirteen days and one apparently incredible night of his life. For more than five years he’d been slowly moving towards this point, and only now that so much time had passed and he was starting to realize he might actually be approaching a destination of sorts, did he really feel he could look back and realize just how far he had come.
Five years ago he had gone to his very first Pride. But he almost hadn’t made it down to Liberty Avenue that day. He’d run into Hobbs at the hospice the night before and in a split second it felt like every bit of progress he’d made in the weeks since leaving the hospital, in the weeks since coming to live with Brian, had vanished. Chris had lurched towards him and he was back in that parking garage all over again. Back to square one or even zero. Only he hadn’t been. Not really. And Brian had known it. He’d comforted Justin that night but the next day he had pushed. Gently, yes, but firmly pushed for the first time since the bashing for Justin to leave the loft when he said he didn’t want to. He’d turned a deaf ear to Justin’s protests of “don’t want to, can’t, not ready” until they were sitting on the steps of Woody’s in the bright June sunlight and Justin had realized he was… okay. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t enjoying himself. He didn’t feel proud. But he was okay. And when his mother passed by he did what he knew he was supposed to do. He left the comforting safety of Brian’s side and he walked with her the rest of the route. And that had been okay too.
He was okay then for quite awhile. But though he moved in varying degrees closer to and further away from “good” for several months, he never quite seemed to get there no matter what he tried. He’d gotten his art back. That had been tough and painful at first but, when he accomplished it, it had felt like getting something back on track. It felt like a victory in that he’d refused to lose something that important to him to what fucking Hobbs had done to him, but a hollow one to a degree because it was never going to be the same.
He’d wanted to be more than just okay again. He’d wanted to be strong. When his father had decided he’d no longer pay for him to attend PIFA, more than anything Justin had wanted to prove to everyone, himself included, that he didn’t need to be taken care of anymore. He’d been so determined to get back that independent part of himself that had once allowed him to scream at his father that he was never coming home again and mean it. But instead he’d gotten himself drugged and nearly gang raped. He’d also gotten himself out of the situation but, as grateful as Justin was – then and now – that Brian had let him make his own mistakes, had trusted him and respected him enough as a man to stand back and let Justin figure out on his own what he needed to do, having to accept Brian’s help again had been another blow to the self-confidence Justin had been starting to lose hope of ever regaining. He’d mustered as much dignity as he could and held his head up high when he made the agreement with Brian to borrow the money for school. He knew he’d made the only decision he really could have made; it would have been stupid not to accept help at that point. But swallowing his pride that morning and accepting Brian’s help yet again had been one of the hardest things Justin had ever done.
He’d been tired of being frustrated, tired of feeling helpless, tired of feeling like his life was “pretty good” right now and he should just be happy with how far he’d come in less than a year. He hadn’t been happy. He’d wanted to be, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t even sure he remembered how to be happy anymore. So he’d pushed Brian for things he’d hoped would make a difference. Things he’d wanted to believe would bring happiness back into his life. And Brian had pushed back.
And then there was Ethan. Ethan who noticed Justin. Ethan who wanted Justin. Ethan who looked at Justin and never once saw parking garages or blood or baseball bats. He gave Justin flowers and floor picnics and words of affection and acceptance that Justin had been craving so much that it had almost become a physical pain. Justin had told himself that those were the things that mattered, the things that he was missing, the things that would make him feel whole again. He’d told himself he was happy in the months that he lived with Ethan so many times that he almost started to believe it. Almost.
Then that illusion had been shattered and Justin had taken a good month-long look at his life and himself and decided enough was enough. No more hanging on until the scenery changed again. He was going to change it. The right way this time.
When he had decided to get Brian to take him back, Justin had felt free for the first time in what seemed like forever. He hadn’t been nervous about whether his plan would work. He knew it would. He’d remembered that feeling from before. That confidence. That self assurance. It felt good. Looking back on it though, Justin realized those months between the night of their reunion in Brian’s office and Darren getting bashed were little more than a sort of rest stop on his journey. He hadn’t made it to his destination yet. He just hadn’t known it at the time.
The Posse… had been a mistake. Obviously. Learning to fight and to shoot a gun and to hurt them before they before they hurt him hadn’t fixed a goddamn thing. It hadn’t helped Justin work through his anger over his own bashing. It’d just allowed it to run free. And the only thing that had really done was shown Justin how very much not over the bashing he was. He’d realized after he’d pulled the gun out of Hobbs’ mouth and walked away that he probably never would be. A person didn’t really get over something like that. The best they could do was to learn to accept that it had happened and move on. If they were strong enough.
But move on to where? Brian had pushed him to go back to school but Justin hadn’t been able to really work up a lot of enthusiasm for it, which was strange, really. Justin knew that once getting his degree from PIFA had been something he’d really wanted. But he was almost 21 and he’d come through a lot in the previous few years. He’d wanted to be going somewhere now that he felt he was finally emerging on the other side. Back to sitting in a classroom, repeating a term’s worth of classes he’d already taken and nearly completed before his suspension, back at a point he should have been at a year ago, hadn’t been it.
So when Brett’s offer to turn Rage into a movie had come along, Justin had jumped at it. Of course, it had taken a backseat when he’d discovered that Brian was sick. For those few months helping Brian, whether he wanted it or not, had become the main focus of Justin’s life. It was all that was important. And that was the way it should have been. They were partners. But once Brian was recovering and on his way to being well again, Hollywood had beckoned and Justin had been eager to accept.
It had been everything he’d told Brian it was. Hot, fun, exciting. And it was also over before he was ready. Justin sometimes wondered what would have happened if the movie hadn’t been cancelled and he’d returned to Pittsburgh with a feeling of accomplishment for a job well done. There really wasn’t a point in dwelling on that though, because what had actually happened was that Justin had found himself back in the Pitts…. and absolutely nowhere.
He had left school again. And somehow he had the feeling a third time around with that wasn’t going to be any luckier than the first two. He didn’t have a job or a need to get one right away because of the money he’d made in LA. He’d had no direction, really, and no pressing need to find one again.
He’d watched as everyone else around him moved on. Things had changed while he was gone and were continuing to change now that he was back. And he wasn’t a part of any of it. Debbie was leaving the diner. Melanie and Lindsay had split up. Michael and Ben were buying a house and fighting for custody of Jenny Rebecca. Emmett still had his party planning and also his new gig at Channel 5. Even Brian had a new toy in Babylon.
The only place Justin didn’t feel one step removed from his former life was alone with Brian. The offer had still stood. He was welcomed back into Brian’s loft and his bed without hesitation. There had been a time when Justin could have only dreamed that he would be allowed in so easily. So he’d focused on that. He’d tried to make it enough to make up for the other stuff. But it wasn’t. He’d really, really wanted it to be. But it just wasn’t.
He’d wanted more. He saw Michael and Ben in their new home with their family, happy and content. Justin had wanted to feel that way. At home… happy… content. God, he had wanted that so badly. After the bombing, he’d really thought he was finally going to have it, too. Brian had finally told Justin that he loved him. He’d asked him to marry him. He’d bought him the fucking country manor of his dreams with stables and a pool. He’d even gone for the golden gardenias.
But it still wasn’t right.
Then the night before their rehearsal dinner they’d been in bed and when Justin confronted Brian about his strange behavior, Brian had confronted Justin right back about not going to New York. And it had all finally slid into place and Justin had remembered that thing he’d lost somewhere along the way: it’s scarier finding your own way than doing what’s expected. But he had to do what was going to make him happy. And no matter how many times he’d tried to tell himself that marrying Brian was going to make him happy, he knew it wasn’t. Not this way. Not now. Not like this. He’d needed to make himself happy first and then just take things from there.
So now he was in New York… had been for more than a year. He was starting to get some spots in small shows. His art was starting to sell. He’d made new friends. He was thriving on the inspiration the city gave him. He was being the best homosexual he could possibly be.
It wasn’t always easy but he was making his own way again at last.