Entry tags:

author: vamphile, challenge #46: e.e.cummings, epic series: hustler!j/whore in a hoody

Whore In A Hoody
Title: Hustler!Justin LI (Whore in a Hoody)
Author: Vamphile
Condoms: 13 To Justin 5 To Brian

|Hustler!Justin | II | III | IV| V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI | XVII | XVIII | XIX | XX | XXI | XXII | XXIII | XXIV | XXV | XXVI | XXVII | XXVIII | XXIX | XXX | XXXI | XXXII | XXXIII | XXXIV | XXXV | XXXVI | XXXVII | XXXVIII | XXXIX | XL | XLI | XLII | XLIII | XLIV | XLV | XLVI | XLVII | XLVIII | XLIX | L |

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Hustler Justin LI
Whore In A Hoody

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I’ve given up being hopeful that Justin’s answer will be something that won’t make me cringe.

Peter asks a follow up question and Justin looks at me. “I want to do things to make Brian happy.”

Peter frowns. I don’t say a word.

“Things of a sexual nature.”

“That’s what he likes.”

“What else does he like?”

“Telling people what to do, winning at board games, and Gus.”

“Justin, are you telling me you lose on purpose.”

“Brian, it’s a sucker’s play to buy Boardwalk without Park Place.”

“You actually throw monopoly games?”

He shrugs and I shake my head.



~~~578~~~
I don’t know why he’s upset. He likes to win so I let him. Peter looks at Brian and then back at me.

“Justin, Brian doesn’t need you to throw a board game for him to feel good about himself.”

“But he’s terrible at it. He buys everything and then…”

He holds his hand up. “This isn’t about his game playing, it’s about not just allowing him to win. You’re allowed to win.”

I don’t get it. I don’t care and Brian does, so what’s the difference. Peter leaves; he’ll see me tomorrow. I nod and lie down. I’m tired.


~~~579~~~
Justin’s half asleep already and Peter didn’t touch on a couple of issues that I’d like to know more about but I guess he gets it better than I. I turn out the light and Justin calls to me.

“Hmmm?”

“Can you stay?”

“Where?”

“Here?”

“Justin, you…”

“I’m not trying to… it’s for me. I hate being alone and…”

I sit next to him. He asks me to lie down. He rests his head on my shoulder and his arm over my chest. When Deb comes in twenty minutes later he’s asleep. She backs out and closes the door quietly.


~~~580~~~
I wake up in the middle of the night and Brian’s staring at me. “Nightmare?”

I nod.

“You get them often?”

I don’t say anything.

“Justin? Every night?”

I’m not sure if I should tell him the truth but his look insists that he wants to know.

“If I sort of zone out before I go to sleep then I only wake up once or twice.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Depends. I’ll wake up in a cold sweat and not go back to sleep or keep waking up all night long.”

“So you don’t sleep?”

“It’s always been like this.”


~~~581~~~
He doesn’t sleep. I can relate, but the always part throws me. Always. he closes his eyes and I marvel at him. This is his reality and he’s just… adapted. Twisted his brain, or allowed his brain to be twisted until all of this was normal. Ritual abuse. Adults paying for the privilege of hurting him. Rape. His childhood memories make mine seem like a Norman Rockwell Painting. His breathing evens out. He’s asleep again. I’m up for the night. I sit in vigil, wishing I could just will the nightmares away, or better yet, the events that caused them.


~~~582~~~
I wake up again and Brian’s there. I sit up, my heart racing.

“Bad one?”

I nod.

“Try to get some more sleep.”

I pull the covers back, making room for him. “I will if you will.”

“Justin.”

“You’re tired, Brian, I can tell.”

He looks at me and I know he wants to deny it but in the end he slides under the covers and I rest my head against his back.

We wake up at six. Brian kisses my temple and leaves. I shower and realize that no one’s watching me. I stay there for a long time.


~~~583~~~
When I get back to Debbie's she’s serving Justin breakfast. He eats without prompting. She puts a plate down for me and there’s no point in arguing. I eat too.

“Neither of you look like you’ve slept in a month.”

“He doesn’t sleep. He just works and then passes out.”

I glare at him. He shrugs, buttering another piece of toast.

Debbie’s attention is turned fully onto me now and I realize that the fucker did that intentionally. I decide I’m too old to kick him under the table so instead I give him the finger while Debbie’s not looking.


~~~584~~~
I shrug and eat another piece of toast. It’s not cold the way it always is at the hospital, and Debbie seems happier when I eat, so I can do that for her. She puts a plate of waffles in front of me and Brian shakes his head. “Making up for lost time?”

“I hate the food there.”

Debbie smacks the back of Brian’s head. “You have to bring the kid some food.”

He glowers at me. I eat the waffles and realize that Debbie’s might not be so bad. Brian promises to pick up lasagna next week for me.


~~~585~~~
“So, what would you like to do today?”

He shrugs and I just continue to stare. He chews and swallows, seeming to actually contemplate the question.

“I want to go to my apartment.”

Debbie turns around quickly, the soapy pan still in her hand. I take a moment, trying to avoid yelling. “Why?”

“I want to get some stuff out of there. I was wondering if maybe Debbie could hold onto it for me until I get out.” He blinks at her. She smiles and I relax.

“Fine, once you get your stuff, I’m getting you out of that lease.”


~~~586~~~
He’s quiet on the drive there and even quieter once we’re inside. He’s never liked this place. The door to the bedroom is repaired but the locks are gone. Brian has brought me most of my clothes, I know the laptop is at the loft, but I want my sketchbooks and a few other things. Brian watches me while I crawl to the back of the closet and retrieve a large plastic Ziploc bag.

“I was wondering where you kept that.”

“You could have asked. I know I owe you but I want to give some of it to Debbie.”


~~~587~~~
He pulls out a stack of bills and counts out the last two months rent. “Here, I know you covered it for me.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Brian, you can’t just pay my way through life.”

“I don’t want that money. Keep it. Spend it on yourself. You earned it.” He did, the hard way.

“Will you just hold on to it while I’m at Southwood. Use it if you have to, for KinnetiK.”

There’s only a few thousand dollars. Not enough to cover a day’s operating expenses. “Justin, KinnetiK is doing fine on it’s own.” It’s not a lie.


~~~588~~~
I take the small baggie from the bottom of the bag and shove it in my pocket. Just a few things I want to have with me. I know he wants to ask, but I also know he won’t.

I know I can’t bring the furniture with me, so I sit in the chair one more time. Enjoying the feel of the late morning sun on my face.

I walk through the apartment. My stomach clenches when I get to the other bedroom but I know I have to go in.

He stops me as my hand turns the knob.


~~~589~~~
He looks so relaxed with the sun on his face. I leave the room silently and wait. Eventually he walks past me, opening and closing the kitchen cabinets but not removing anything. He goes into the second bathroom and seems a little tense when he comes out. I’m standing by the kitchen counter, a few feet from the bedroom door. There can’t be anything in here that he needs or wants. He puts his hand on the knob. “Justin.”

He looks up, seeming a little startled. “I just need…” he trails off but opens the door. I’m right behind him.


~~~590~~~
I hate Southwood. I hate the antiseptic smell and the sterile feel that no amount of primary colored murals can erase. I hate the clipboards, the nurses and my room, the one with no privacy. I am the only one on the ward that’s never had a roommate but I’ve never been off SIPs. Someone’s always watching. I stand in this room, a black leather strap hanging from a hook on the wall. A crop lying on the floor. I long for my sterile hospital room, for primary colors, the strong smell of Lysol and bored eyes behind a clipboard.


~~~591~~~
He takes two steps into the room and freezes. I move to the side. I want to pull him out, but if he needs to be here, I don’t want to hamper the healing process. He opens the bottom drawer in the armoire, takes a deep breath and throws the doors open. When he starts packing things into the bag I decide Fuck the healing process and stop him.

He resists, wrapping the items carefully and placing each one neatly. The image of his fingers combing through the flails of a flogger nauseates me. “Justin, what are you doing?”


~~~592~~~
I look up. “I can sell a lot of this stuff. A few haven’t been used at all, and I might be able to return them. Besides, I have to tell him I’m out of the business or he’ll keep having clients call.”

“You can just change your number. You don’t need to give two weeks notice.”

He continues packing the instruments of his own torture. “You want me to be a normal person? Normal people don’t walk away from thousands of dollars. Normal people pay their own way.”

“Adults, you’re just a kid.”

“I’ll be eighteen in five weeks.”


~~~593~~~
I want to tell him that eighteen is still a kid but he’s right, for him, childhood has been over for a long time.

“I’ll return them, tell him you’re out of the business and put the money aside for you.”

He tilts his head and looks at me. “You don’t trust me. You think he’s going to talk me into taking clients.”

“Last night you tried to talk me into your taking clients again.”

“But you said no.’

“Justin do what you want because it’s what you want. Don’t do it for me.”

He sits down, his confusion clear.

~~~594~~~
What I want. I don’t know what I want. All I know is that I don’t want to always be in pain. Peter says to stop defining things by what I don’t want. I can’t. Everything I’ve known turns out to be just another exercise in what I don’t want. Everything except Brian. I zip the bag closed and nod to him.

“No more clients, at all. And I’ll leave Southwood as soon as they let me. That’s what I want.”

He hugs me. It’s friendly and platonic. When I’m out, I’ll work on changing that. He’s what I want.

Cont...