“You wouldn’t think it was so funny if you'd been the one who was bashed.”

“No one said it was funny.”

Chapter 11

“What do you mean this isn’t work-appropriate?” Emmett asked, pouting.

I frowned at the shirt Theodore was wearing. It was lavender, with sequins down the front. He looked appropriately humiliated. “If you have to ask, then there’s nothing I can do to explain it,” I replied.

“I’m going to change,” Theodore moaned unhappily, turning to go back to the bathroom and change back into the clothes he’d come to work in.

Emmett sighed and sat across from me, crossing his legs. “Well, I thought a new outfit would cheer him up! Besides, if he’s back on the dating market, he needs to think about looking good!”

I snorted and looked back at my computer. “Look good, or look insane?”

Emmett was silent for a long time, so I glanced back up at him. He was staring into space with an odd, strained expression.

“You have to-“

“What? Talk to him?” he said, cutting me off. His voice was low and tired. “What am I supposed to say? Gee, we’ve been best friends for half our lives and I know that the last time we dated was awkward and ended terribly, but let’s try again?”

“I was going to say you have to fuck him. Just go in there, grab him by his tie, and don’t let him go until he gives in.”

Emmett wrinkled his nose at me. “Ever the romantic.”

I shrugged. “It always worked for me.”

Sighing dramatically, Emmett spun in the chair once, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid for me to even consider…”

I rolled my eyes and picked up a rubber band, and shot it at him. It bounced off his forehead. “Despite all evidence, you are a man. Start acting like one.”

Pouting, he rubbed his forehead and picked up the rubber band, throwing it at me. “You’re not very good at being sympathetic, are you.”

Smirking, I sat back and shrugged. “The sooner Theodore gets laid the sooner his work gets back up to par. I need him in working order, Honeycutt.”

Emmett sneered at me. “DON’T-“

“Call you Honeycutt. Right.” I looked back at my monitor, hoping he’d go to the bathroom and suck Theodore off or get him to fuck him, or something, and leave me alone. I had a million things to do and I wanted to leave on time today.

Then the phone rang.

“Kinney,” I said. Only a few people had my direct line. Important clients, mostly.

“Dad,” Gus’ voice came through the line, sounding panicked and breathless.

My heart raced and I sat up in my chair. Something was very wrong. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re at the gallery. He’s just… freaking out!”

They were okay. They hadn’t been in a car accident, and there were no bombs involved. I felt a temporary sense of relief, before I realized something must be very, very wrong for sonnyboy to call me like this. “What happened?” I asked. I was already standing and grabbing my keys.

“I don’t know! Nothing! We were just standing there, and he started to freak out!”

“See if you can get him outside. The fresh air will help. I’ll be there in five minutes.” I walked past a very confused looking Emmett, and brushed past Cynthia as she entered the room. “Gotta go. I’ll be back later.”

Cynthia nodded, and I walked out the front door quickly, and practically ran to the car.

When I arrived, four minutes later and two red lights run, they were outside on the front steps to the half finished gallery. Justin was sitting on the steps, his arms around his legs tightly, and he was trembling so hard I could see it before I even got to them. Gus was standing next to him, rubbing his back and looking terrified.

Without a word, I kneeled down next to him, ignoring the filthy pavement and how it was going to ruin my suit. That didn’t matter right now.

“Sunshine,” I said softly.

Justin’s head jerked up and he looked at me. He looked panicked, terrified, and his breath was coming in short gasps. His eyes wouldn’t focus on me for more than a few seconds at a time. He was having a panic attack.

I slowly wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his back gently. His hands immediately gripped the front of my suit tightly, pinching my skin underneath. He buried his face in my chest and made a gasping, desperate noise.

I looked up at Gus. He looked terrified. “He’ll be okay,” I said in a soothing voice. “It’s a panic attack.”

Sonnyboy nodded jerkily. “I… I didn’t… do anything…”

“It’s not your fault,” I said in the same calm voice. It was the same as dealing with a frightened animal. It didn’t really matter what I said at this point, so much as how I said it. Sunshine needed me to sound calm and reassuring, so I would, despite how I felt. “Something must have triggered it. Where were you?”

“I-inside… we were just looking at the plans…”

I held Justin tightly as he clung to me, trembling and whimpering. Something had happened. Something really fucking bad. I hadn’t seen him like this since… since right after he was bashed.

“Sunshine,” I said softly.

Justin just shook his head against me. He didn’t want to talk. Or maybe he couldn’t.

“I’m here,” I said, rubbing his back slowly. “I’m right here.”

His chest started to jerk in little gasps, and I knew he was starting to cry.

“You’re safe,” I murmured softly, feeling my chest tighten.

Soon he was sobbing, silently, but I could feel his hot tears making my shirt wet.

I looked back up at Gus, who was watching us with that same scared look on his face. “Help me.”

I stood, gently pulling Justin to his feet. His muscles were tensed, hard, and he didn’t want to stand. “Come on, Sunshine,” I said softly. “We’re going to the car.”

He nodded once and finally cooperated, standing and leaning against me.

Gus went to the curb and opened the passenger door, and I gently helped Justin into it. His fingers clung tightly to the front of my shirt, pulling on it hard when I tried to pull away, and a button popped off.

“I’ll be right back,” I said softly. “I promise.”

Finally Justin lifted his head and stared at me. Tears ran down his flushed, blotchy face, and his lips were practically white. “Brian,” he whimpered.

I winced. I was going to find out what the fuck had happened. I had to know what did this to him. “Stay with Gus,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

He shook his head, his breath coming in faster gasps. He didn’t want me to leave his side, but I couldn’t just take him home without finding out what had gone wrong.

“Watch him,” I said to Gus. “If he starts to hyperventilate, remind him to breathe.”

“Dad,” Gus said, looking terrified. “I don’t-“

I put my hand on his shoulder and gave him a serious look. “I’ll be right back.”

He winced, but nodded. What a fucking good kid. Lindsay and Mel had done right by him at least. I felt a distant sense of pride, and turned and went into the building.

There were construction workers standing around, installing windows, fixing plaster, laying floor tiles. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

And then I saw him.

Even from behind, I knew who it was. I’d know him anywhere.

Chris Hobbes.

My heart raced, and I felt my lungs constrict. Christ, now I was going to have a panic attack. I looked around quickly, looking for the man I’d spoken to before, the one who was supposed to be in charge of this operation.

“HEY,” I shouted when I spotted him, standing in the next room, talking to some men painting a wall.

He looked up and smiled at me. “Mr. Kinney, hello. I was just talking to-“

I stalked over to him and got in his face. His expression changed to one of fear. Good. He should be fucking afraid. “HE needs to go.” I pointed to Hobbes, who still hadn’t noticed me.

He blinked a few times, looking where I was pointing. “He’s my business partner, Mr. Kinney. He knows more about construction than anyone else here. Without him-“

“I don’t give a fuck WHO he is or WHAT he does!” I shouted. “GET HIM OUT.”

“I… I can’t fire him… what’s wrong, Mr. Kinney?”

“Fuck this,” I muttered. “I’ll just fucking fire you all and get another company to finish it.

His eyes hardened and he folded his arms. “Another company will take months to bring on, and they won’t do it as well as we will. Not to mention it’s not your choice.”

I tensed and for a moment seriously considered shoving him into a wall, but he wasn’t the one I really wanted to hurt. That person was behind me.

I turned around and at the same time, Hobbes looked up.

Our eyes met, and his skin flushed a bright red, and then paled to a sickly white.

I don’t remember crossing the room. I don’t remember shoving him against the wall or holding him there, my hands fisted. I just remember finding myself that way, our faces inches apart.

And he was trembling.

“Why the fuck are you here?!”

“I… it’s my job,” he gasped. I could feel his heart racing through his shirt. His skin was pale, and he was breaking out in a sweat.

I suddenly realized he had no idea I’d be here either. “Do you have any fucking idea who you’re building this gallery for?” I growled.

He shook his head quickly. “I… I don’t… do the business part of things… I just… fucking build!”

I took a deep, slow breath, but kept holding him there firmly. “Justin Taylor,” I growled.

Hobbes’ eyes darkened and then he glanced around quickly, as if trying to find him.

“He’s not here,” I growled. I’d never heard my own voice so low and angry.

“I… I didn’t…” Hobbes said, gasping a little for air.

A million thoughts raced through my mind. I saw Justin’s smile as he turned, and the bat hit his head. I felt his blood seeping through my fingers. I saw him panicking, unable to even go outside alone for months. I remembered pink shirts and camo pants and finding a gun. I remembered months, years of pain caused by this one person. And I regretted, not for the first time, not killing him when I had the chance.

And then I remembered that they were outside, waiting in the car. I remembered that I was standing in a now silent room filled with people staring at me. And I slowly released him, taking one step back.

He gasped for air a few more times, his arms wrapped around himself. His eyes darted around the room nervously.

He was terrified. He was completely fucking terrified. And he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“I broke your leg once,” I said, my voice as low and threatening as I could make it.

He looked at me, eyes wide.

“Now you’re going to finish this project, and you’re going to do the best fucking job of your life. You’re going to make this the best fucking gallery he’s ever seen, and you’re going to get it done on time.”

“The- there might be… a delay for the-“

“I don’t give a fuck,” I replied. “You’re going to get it done on time. You’re going to make the most fabulous gallery possible for Justin. You’re going to treat him respectfully if you see him. You’re going to call him MISTER Taylor. And if you even think the word faggot, or this gallery doesn’t turn out exactly how he wants it and better, I’ll do what I should have done back then.”

He just blinked at me, pale and trembling, leaning against the wall.

I leaned in very close to him, so I could smell his breath. “If you think for even a moment that I don’t have the wealth to get out of a murder charge, think again.”

He was nodding, and I backed away. He grabbed his own tie, loosening it. He was drenched in sweat.

And then I realized that he was as scared of me as Justin was of him. He may have bashed my Sunshine, but I bashed him. I took out his leg. It took him months, years to fully recover. His future as a football player had been ruined by my hand. He knew I was serious. And he was terrified.

I looked back around the room at all of the other construction workers, all of whom were staring at me. I stalked back over to Hobbes’ partner and growled in his face. “Your partner bashed MISTER Taylor’s head in a long time ago because he hates fags.”

The man just blinked at me a few times and glanced over at Hobbes with an odd look. He hadn’t known.

“Keep a close fucking eye on him. If everything doesn’t come out perfectly, neither of you will like the results.”

He nodded and cleared his throat. “Of course, Mr. Kinney. Now, if you don’t mind, we need to get back to work.”

I smirked at him. “That’s right. You do.” I turned to leave, passing Hobbes on the way. He looked like he could barely stand, and shot me a terrified look.

Then I was out the door, and went back to the car. I got in the driver’s side, and Gus was already sitting in the back. Justin was curled up in the passenger seat, his arms around his legs again, and his face buried in his knees.

“Sunshine,” I said softly. I reached over and put my hand on the back of his head, gently stroking his hair.

He slowly relaxed and lifted his head. He looked like the same terrified, lost 18 year old he’d been so long ago, and my chest ached. “He’s not going to touch you. I made sure of that.”

He blinked a few times and sniffled loudly.

I leaned over and kissed him firmly, tasting salty tears on his lips. “We’re going home.”

He nodded again, and I fastened his seatbelt around his lap before doing my own and glancing at Gus, who was pale-faced and staring out the window in the back seat.

None of us said anything the entire way home.

***

Gus had gone to his room as soon as we got home. I could hear him talking on the phone with someone in a muffled voice. I was glad he had a friend to call when his fucking parents traumatized him, just like I’d had Mikey. Tomorrow I’d make it up to him, and explain, and tell him how fucking proud I was that he handled it so well. But right then, I had more important things to do.

I didn’t say anything until Justin and I were in bed. I’d locked the bedroom door, and turned off both of our cell phones. I didn’t try to undress him. I just slipped off his shoes and removed my own shoes and jacket before getting in next to him. He clung to me as if he was drowning. I rubbed his back in slow circles.

“W-why is he there?” Justin asked softly, his voice scared and angry at the same time.

“He works for the construction company,” I said in the calmest voice I could manage.

Justin sniffled loudly and rubbed his face on my shirt. It was already missing that button, and now it was drenched in snot and tears. A lifetime ago that would have bothered me. Instead, it was just a reminder that he was here, alive.

“What did you do?” he asked in a strained tone, trying to sound amused.

“What do you think?” I kissed the top of his head gently.

He lifted his face to look at me, all flushed and blotchy and pale, and grinned weakly. “I think you threatened to kill him.”

I smirked, threading my fingers through his hair. “Why, Sunshine, would I do something like that?”

His expression crumbled again and I felt my own eyes sting. He looked exactly like he had at 18.

“If you want me to, I’ll find a way to get rid of them. We can find a new construction company-“

“No,” he said firmly, cutting me off. “It would delay everything. I… I’m a grown man. I can…. I can face him.”

I sighed and pressed my face into his hair, holding him tightly.

“What?” he whispered, still clinging tightly to me despite his bold words.

“You’re one fucking stubborn twat, you know that?”

He giggled softly. It was strained, and almost sad sounding, but it was something. “You don’t think he’ll do anything?”

“I don’t think he’ll even stay in the same room as you. He was scared out of his mind.”

His face pressed against my chest, Justin spoke slowly. “He… probably had a panic attack, too. After all, you… hurt him. He’s probably as scared as I am.”

I doubted that. You have to be human to understand fear, and as far as I was concerned, Hobbes was no more human than my father, and didn’t deserve an ounce of pity. But I kept it to myself. If Justin was trying to deal with things in a so-called healthier way, I wasn’t going to say anything to disagree.

We sat there in silence, Justin clinging to me for dear life, and me clinging back, holding him as tightly as I could and still allow him room to breathe. After a few minutes, he began to cry again. It wasn’t a hard sob like it had been before, but a weak, slow, shivering cry. After five minutes of that, I cried, too, glad that he wasn’t looking up and that I was good at hiding it.

“I should apologize to Gus,” Justin finally whispered against me. I didn’t know how much time had passed. A half hour? Two hours? Longer?

“Sonnyboy’s going to be fine,” I said, wiping my own face on his hair. Time to man up, Kinney.

Then Justin lifted his face and brushed his fingertips over my cheeks. Fuck. He could always tell, no matter how careful I was. “I’m so selfish.”

“What?” I asked, squinting at him.

“You… must have been really scared, too.”

My eyebrows shot up, and I laughed quickly, feeling myself smile a little. “Brian Kinney doesn’t get scared.”

Then he smiled, and I felt relief wash over me. It was weak, and scared, and forced, but if he could smile, he would be okay. “Oh, right. I forgot.”