Here Comes Trouble

Chapter Twelve - Misery Business

Justin's POV

There is a moment between awake and sleep, the drowsy incoherent state, that I almost forget what's happen the last few months. There is no fight, no house party, and no Selena.

But then I blink at the bright lights, dazedly rubbing at my eyes, that it comes back to me in full force. The pain in my ribs, the pounding headache and memories of Selena. I breathe shakily, wondering if it's relieved or disappointed.

"You're awake." My dad sits up from the chair in the corner, appearing over me, taking up my entire line of sight, as quickly as it takes me to blink. He has a tiny, relieved smile on his face. Just barely lifting the corners of his mouth. Nostalgia bursts in my gut, sharp and sudden. It's something I hadn't seen since I was eight, pouting in a hospital bed, with a broken arm from my fail at hockey. I remember him running into the room, panting and worried. With one look at my frown, he calmed. Laugh echoing off the walls.

"You gave me quite a scare, Tiger." He hummed, playfully punching at my shoulder.

I huffed quietly, working the tears out of my throat, and offered a smile I knew he would fall for. He did, eyes softening. "I feel like shit."

"That'll happen when you get punched repeatedly."

"What's the verdict?" I asked, subtly wrapping my arms around my ribs, trying to ease the throbbing. He noticed, of course, following the movement with his keen wary eyes. I was never able to hide anything much from him. Never could figure out if it was because he was a cop, or just wired that way.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and looked me over one more time, seemingly satisfied, he fell back into the wide chair. Big enough to sleep in if need be. "No long lasting damage. Just need to sleep it off."

I nodded, keeping quiet, because I knew he had more to say.

True to form, "I don't know how to tell you this, kid."

I shrugged, eyes narrowed, putting a goofy smile on my face, "Whatever it is, it can't be worse than getting brutally beat up."

He blew a soft laugh, "I'm not so sure you'd agree," the silence worn on a bit more, "I called your mom."

It felt a little like the world had stopped turning. That everyone stopped breathing collectively. That we fell out of the sky. "You what?" 

"She's coming to see you." He offered, like that would make any of this better. That seeing her would somehow make me feel better.

"Why would you do that? What the hell, Dad?"

"I promised her I would keep in touch, about you. You're still her son, Justin."

The laugh felt like it was being forcibly pulled from my chest, manic and wild, I could feel myself crying, unable to stop. My chest burned, everything dulled, focusing on the ache that would t go away. My laughter turned into sharp sobs, quaking my entire body. Still her son? Unbelievable. She was fucking joking, right? God, I can't even remember the last time she even sent me a birthday present. And I was still her son? She magically cares all of a sudden?

"Justin. Justin, you have to breathe, okay? Breathe with me." It was a sweet, soothing woman's voice. She rubbed gentle circles on my back, holding a mask up to my face. I followed instructions, putting all other thoughts out of my mind. Just breathe. Breathe.