Memories {A compilation of Britin short stories}

Story 32: Bruised {Part 3}

The next morning, Justin woke up in Brian's arms. He slowly inched out of the bed to go to the bathroom.

Brian woke alone and in pain. It had been a few days since the attack, but he was still sore and he still thought about it, especially when he was alone. "Justin?" he called.

Justin came out from the bathroom. "Right here." He crawled back into bed.

"Good. Grab the weed from my drawer." He needed something to ease the pain, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be his meds.

"Have you taken your meds yet?"

"I thought you weren't supposed to mix meds and weed," he said with a sarcastic smirk.

"Yeah, but the weed I actually like. And besides. I'll let you shotgun while we kiss," he said with a small smirk. Hopefully it would work.

"Nice try." Justin reached over Brian and grabbed his meds. "It's for the pain. You'll feel better after you take them."

"Yeah, well, so is the weed. And besides, you get horny when you smoke." It was a losing battle, and he knew it.

Justin put the pill bottle in front of Brian's face. "Flattery will get you nowhere. Now take your pills."

"Why don't I take these pills and shove them up your tight little ass?" he growled. Brian grabbed the bottle, though. Idiot boy.

"Love you too." Justin handed him a glass of water.

"Then let me have the weed," Brian said. He took the pills before turning his stare to Justin.

"Later." Justin got out of bed and started to put his clothes on. "Sorry to drop this news on you, but everyone is coming over today to see how you are now that you're out of the hospital."

Any fond feelings Brian had toward either Michael or Justin were instantly gone. "No. No they aren't. They're not going to see me like this." He couldn't allow it.

"Brian, they're your friends. They just want to make sure you're ok."

"Yeah, well I told you. I'm fine. Cancel the fucking party." He didn't want this. He didn't want any of it.

"It's not a fucking party. Don't you want to see your friends? Michael is coming and Ted and Emmett. Debbie too." Justin crawled over the bed to Brian and put his hand on his back. "They don't know the whole truth. They just know you got mugged."

"I. Don't. Want. Them. Do you honestly think that Michael hasn't told anyone? Do you think he would hide that from Ben? Or Debbie? And then Debbie would tell Ted and Emmett and I don't want to have to deal with that."

Justin held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. I'll call them all and tell them that you don't want to see them. They'll probably fucking come anyway."

"Knowing them," Brian muttered. "Why'd you invite them, anyway? This isn't like one of your art shows. I'm not a fucking display." He hated feeling this way.

"No body fucking said you were. And I didn't invite them. They invited themselves. They wanted to come over and see that you weren't fucking dead."

"So send them a photo. Jesus I'm not dead. End of story. So can you please for the love of fuck keep them out? Or are you still incapable of setting the alarm?"

Justin felt the insult like a blow to the chest. He stared angrily at Brian knowing he shouldn't take anything the brunette said to heart. But he couldn't help it. "Fuck you." Justin climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom slamming the door.