Memories {A compilation of Britin short stories}

Story 32: Bruised {Part 1}

The only things that Brian could register were the pain in his ass and the fact that he was wet. His shirt clung to him, and he shivered as the rain hit his bare thighs and ass. He curled in on himself, letting out a small groan. The first month after Justin left, Brian had only fucked tricks who looked like him. Or rather, tried to fuck them. He'd gotten off a time or two, sure, but he couldn't quite handle the similarity. So he switched to something different. And tonight, that proved to be the worst mistake of his life. His car was gone, his wallet, gone. Phone? Of course that was gone, too. Somehow, he managed to pull himself up and make it back to his loft. Once he was inside, he called the only person he could think of.

"Mikey, I need your help," he said, his voice strained. "Justin can't know."

It had been a few months since Justin had left for New York. Now he was back home in Pittsburgh for a little bit while the art scene was taking a break in the Big Apple. His mother picked him up from the airport and talked his ear off until they were outside of Brian's loft. Jennifer had wanted Justin to stay with her for the period of time he was in town, but he insisted on staying with Brian. After all, they were sort of married without the title and the huge ceremony.

He grabbed his bags and got into the elevator. He knocked on the door of the loft practically jumping with excitement to see Brian.

Brian froze, letting out a small breath. No. That wasn't Michael. There was no way Mikey could have gotten over here this quickly. Curling in on himself, he closed his eyes. Whoever it was, they could fuck off. He didn't need anyone to see him like this. But the knock came again, and Brian stood, wincing. Hell, he didn't even know if he was bleeding. Still hunched over, he walked to the door, holding his side. The trick had beaten the shit out of him, and he was almost positive he had a few broken ribs. His eyes stung from sweat and blood as he opened the door. "Oh shit. No."

Justin's smile instantly faded as he looked Brian over. He was bruised and bleeding and looked like he was in a lot of pain. Justin was suddenly worried. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing," Brian said. "You're home unexpected." Everything in him was screaming to shove Justin away. To tell him to get the fuck out. "I'm actually uh...busy tonight. Can you stay at Daphne's?" Yeah, that wasn't going to happen, but he could sure as hell hope that it was. It was impressive that he was even still standing, much less coherent and speaking. Brian tried to take a step back and stumbled, landing on his ass. He let out a cry of pain, curling in on himself.

"Brian!" Justin ran to him. He knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "No fucking way I'm staying at Daphne's. You're hurt. Tell me what happened."

"Don't touch me!" Brian jerked away, looking around frantically. Just then, Michael walked in, taking in the situation. "Justin? What the hell is going on?" he asked. "Brian, fuck. Come on. We gotta get you to the hospital."

"I don't know," Justin said staring at Michael worriedly, "I came back he's bruised and bloody. He won't tell me what happened." Justin helped Michael get Brian on his feet and down to Michael's car.

Though Brian struggled the entire time, he couldn't get out of their grip. "Stop fucking touching me! Get off me!" He tried to fend them off, getting more and more violent. His vision blurred, and every time he tried to focus, all he could see was the trick with the black hair, forcing him against the wall.

Justin and Michael finally managed to get Brian in the back seat of the car. Michael drove as quickly as he could to the hospital. It took an even greater effort to get Brian out of the car and into the hospital. The doctors took him and got him checked into a room ASAP.