Here by My Side- B/J AU series part 2/10

[guavejuice]

Banner made by urugwajThank you SO much!!



Author:guavejuice
Pairing:Brian/Justin
Justin's POV
Beta:Kim predec2 Can't thank you enough!!
A/N:This is NOT a WIP
Click here for previous chapters
Disclaimer:I own nothing but this story.
Comments are love.




Part 2

-The next day – St. James Academy, Pittsburgh-

"What's wrong, Justin? You look like shit," Daphne greeted me on the school’s front steps. She always was able to tell immediately when something was amiss.

"He's sending me away… to military school,” I announced. I could barely look at my friend as I let her know.

Her reaction was both immediate and incredulous. "WHAT? Why? We're three months away from graduating! FUCK!" Her mouth drew into a tight line of anger as we walked toward the entrance, but she grabbed my wrist and gently but firmly pulled me around to the back of the building, where I fished out a cigarette and lit it, passing it to her to take a drag before handing it back to me. “What the hell happened, Justin?”

I felt my voice would elude me if I tried to speak, but I swallowed hard and started to answer her. "He said that the club owner called him to let him know that Chris and I had used fake ID's.”

"So he's sending you to MILITARY school for THAT?" Daphne's frustration built. "That’s ridiculous! Every teenager does something like that at one time or another!”

I was quiet for a moment before replying, “No, that’s not the worst of it; he found out that Babylon is a gay nightclub…and put two and two together.”

Daphne’s eyes grew wide with alarm. “OMG, he knows that you’re gay? How did he react?”

I laughed humorlessly. “He hit me. And THEN he told me he was sending me away. What a loving dad.” I shook my head sadly.

“Isn't there anything we can do to stop him? We can try and talk to one of your teachers. Wait! What about Ms. Peterson, your art teacher? Erica Jacobson told me that she thinks Ms. Peterson is a lesbian," Daphne revealed, thinking somehow that might help.

"Erica Jacobson is a whore; why would you listen to her anyway?" I lashed out "And what IF Ms. Peterson is a lesbian? Would that make her any more capable of standing up to my dad?”

"No, but she might be able to explain more about it," Daphne suggested.

"Yeah, like THAT would help," I replied curtly before the bell interrupted us and we hastened to get to class; as much as I hated the idea of sitting in a classroom, I didn’t need any more trouble right now.

As we took our seats in Mr. Henley's English Lit class, I noticed that Chris's chair was empty. Not that I cared much about him, because he wasn’t , nor would he ever be, my boyfriend or anything, and we hadn’t even fucked, but I kinda wondered why he wasn’t here today.

Just as Mr. Henley scanned the room, ready to start calling out our names for attendance, the school counselor, Ms. Baxter, walked in, whispering something in Mr. Henley’s ear. The man appeared shocked at first, but then my blood ran cold at the sound of his next words as he turned to face the class.

"I was just notified that one of your classmates, Chris Hobbs, was badly beaten last night while he was apparently on his way home…the doctors still don't quite know the severity of his injuries…"

I can't seem to hear the rest of Mr. Henley’s words. Beaten? Chris Hobbs? The school jock everyone knows and admires? God, if they only knew the rest of it… I couldn’t help thinking that the beating wasn’t just a random thing. Had he been beaten simply because someone discovered he was gay? The thought turned my stomach.
I felt the rage churning inside me, almost bursting out of me.

I wondered what my dad would say if he knew about this. Would he say he had it coming to him? Would he say the same thing if it had been me?

"May I be excused?" I asked quietly, the nausea roiling inside me. If I stayed there one more second, I was afraid I would puke right where I sat. Fortunately, though, Mr. Henley nodded at me as I rushed out of the room. I managed to make it to the water fountain to take a drink and splash some of the cold water on my face, but it doesn’t seem to help at first. Finally, I’m able to calm my nerves, but settle my stomach, but I couldn’t help thinking what a mess this was.


As I returned to the classroom several minutes later and took my seat, to my surprise I could hear Mr. Henley informing the class that we wouldn’t be reviewing the last chapter of The Great Gatsby today as we had been told. Instead, he rummaged through his bookcase and pulled out a well-worn, thin book. Opening it up, he perched on the edge of his desk and cleared his throat before he began to recite a poem that was unfamiliar to me, but quickly spoke to my heart:

Here by my side, an angel
Here by my side, the devil
Never turn your back on me
Never turn your back on me, again
Here by my side, it's Heaven

Here by my side, you are destruction
Here by my side, a new color to paint the world
Never turn your back on it
Never turn your back on it, again
Here by my side, it's Heaven

The room was deathly quiet as Mr. Henley put down the book, except for Erica and a few others who sniffled in reaction. “That’s all, students. You may go,” he told them softly, the pain evident in his voice. Everyone slowly shuffled out of the room wordlessly, too stunned to really speak.

"I can't fucking believe it," Daphne murmured as she and I exited the classroom.

I sigh, too shaken to say anything at the moment; it felt like a knife was stuck in my throat.

"Don’t you have anything to say?" she pressed me as we walked towards our next class as I remained silent. “That could have been YOU, Justin!”

“Don’t you think I KNOW that?” I brushed my left hand through my hair as I pleaded, “Don’t jump to conclusions. We don’t know why it happened yet. It could have been that he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” But inside, I didn’t believe that.

“Do you really believe that?” Daphne asked, stopping as she turned to face me.

I sighed. “No,” I admitted. “But what do you want me to say?" I answered, lowering my voice so we didn’t receive any undue attention. "It SUCKS, big time…" I pause and swallow hard. "Fuck, I don't even know what's worse, staying here in this homophobic place, or being transferred to some fucking rich kids’ military academy!" I told her, as the poem Mr. Henley read to us earlier still rang in my ears. My teacher may feel that love and tolerance and all that shit would combat hatred, but I still wasn’t convinced.

"Look, I'm sorry, Daph, but I don't feel like going to science class right now. I'll be in the library. I just can’t…" I stop in mid-sentence.

"It's okay, I'll cover for you, I know how you must feel," Daphne answered with a soft smile, putting her hand on my arm.

"Thanks, but I don't think anyone can really know how I feel right now," I answer sadly. “I’m not even sure how I feel, to be honest.”

Kissing me on the cheek in support, we decided to meet back in the cafeteria during lunch break.

I turned around and walked down the hall and into the library, grabbing a seat at one of the cubicles in the far corner of the cavernous room. Actually, I didn’t mind the size; it allowed me to get lost in my own privacy when I needed it. I would miss this particular place, even if I wouldn’t think twice about ever stepping foot in this school again.

I closed my eyes, trying to figure out if Mr. Henley had given us more information about the poem he had read to us earlier after we found out that Chris had been bashed. I stared blankly at the computer monitor, trying to recall what he had read aloud, but I couldn’t seem to remember anything apart from one line. I have no idea what I'm looking for. Oddly enough, this ever elusive feeling, the everlasting yearning for something – or someone – you keep looking for, even though you've never even seen or met them, has been all too familiar to me in the past year. I KNEW that the feeling was there, even though I don't quite know what to expect. The void at the pit of my stomach has been ever present, and the fear of the unknown never goes away. It's so painful at times, but the much larger pain has been in trying to suppress all these raging emotions and doubts that have arisen out of a greater fear: that if I let anyone know about my sexuality, my parents would stop loving me, stop recognizing me for who I really am, not who they might want me to be.

Now this virtual stranger, Chris fucking Hobbs, was lying in a hospital with his head bashed for God knows how long, just because someone out there must have discovered the secret that Chris had been fighting so hard to keep. Fuck! It might as well have been ME! A sudden chill goes down my spine as I force that disturbing thought aside; I opened Google's search engine and quickly typed in the first line that's almost engraved in my mind.

Here by My Side, an Angel.

Several possibilities appear as I hit ‘enter.’ TOO many, so I try it again, placing the phrase in quotes to narrow down the search. This time, one of the results includes a song by someone named Matthew Good; a song called Weapon.

As I read the entire lyrics to the song, I didn’t know why, but I felt I must have these words with me, near me. It was as if I had written them myself. It was as if those words described every emotion I've felt, and every thought that has ever passed through my mind, from the moment thoughts and feelings were starting to form in my head as a young boy. Those words were everything I’d ever experienced, and maybe everything I'll never have a chance to experience, but I could FEEL them.

I pulled my writing pad from my school jacket pocket and started to copy the words from the computer screen onto the paper with my sketching pencil. My eyes jumped back and forth from the screen to the page as my hand continued to scribble. I wasn’t thinking about anything at that moment. Not fucking Hobbs, NOT my dad's threats. NOT fucking St. James. Not even about the other night at that club – Babylon – which had been more exciting and different and vibrating than anything I’d ever experienced. I didn't even know this poem before Mr. Henley had read it to us in class earlier this morning, but now I felt as though those verses were almost swirling in my head to the sound of a lush piece of bittersweet music that you can't stop listening to.

From behind the closed library door I could hear the bell signaling the end of class period. I know it's lunch break, and that Daphne will probably be waiting for me at our usual table outside the cafeteria. Fuck! I know I said there wouldn’t be much that I would miss about this place, but I would sure think about these moments with Daphne during lunch, chatting, sharing interesting bits of school gossip (hers), and the big dick stories (mine). I was, after all, sharing the locker rooms with half the hot jocks in our class after gym class at least once a week. I logged out of Google and closed my writing pad, tucking it and my pencil in my backpack as I turned to leave.


Daphne smiles at me from across the table as I join her at our usual spot.

"Hungry?" she asked.

"No, not much," I answered her. She eyed me with concern; it's definitely NOT like me, because I'm usually ALWAYS hungry, but then lots of things haven't been the same with me lately.

"You didn't miss much in science class,” she reported. “No one was really in the mood to study," she explained.

I cradled my head in my hands wearily, my mind reeling from all that had happened lately. "Fuck, Daphne!" I exclaimed as I lifted my head. "Do you realize that I'll be gone from this fucking place after next week? I can't believe it! This is SO not the way I wanted to get out of here,” I admitted painfully, unable to believe it.

Daphne pushed her tray aside and looked at me sadly. For the first time since we met in third grade I could see tears in her eyes.

"I… I don't want you to go, Justin," she whispered. "I don't understand this. Does your dad really think that by sending you away to military school he can change things? Change YOU?" she added.

"He doesn't even know me, Daph," I answered her. “Not really.”

"And what about your mom? She must have been SO angry when your dad told her he was sending you away," she commented.She had seen Justin and his mom together, and always thought they had a very loving relationship. "I could kind of read between the lines yesterday when my mom was talking to your mom over the phone,” she explained." At my raised eyebrow, she added, “She called your mom to ask her about some kind of recipe, and I guess one thing led to another.”

I nodded in understanding; it wasn’t uncommon for my mom and Daphne’s to talk on the phone; naturally, the two families had become well acquainted with each other over the years during our long-term friendship. “I didn't know that," I answered. "I guess she had been noticing signs… I mean, THINGS about me, but she didn't have the time or the courage or whatever the fuck to say anything," I reasoned. “I thought one day that she had found one of my notebooks with some sketches I drew in it,” I revealed, thinking back to the day I had taken a shower and come back out to my room, only to find my notebook partially exposed outside my backpack. But at the time, I had just thought I hadn’t placed it inside too well. Now, I wasn’t sure, though. “But I didn’t know for sure back then; now, I have a feeling she saw some of my drawings.” My face turned red as I thought about just what sort of ‘drawings’ they were.

To her credit, though, Daphne didn’t press me on it, but just shook her head. “Well, anyway, for what it's worth you know I'm always gonna be there for you, right?" she told me softly with a smile. She turned her upper body to grab something sitting next to her seat. "Here, I didn't get to give you your birthday present. I saw this in that little cool store just off Liberty Avenue that you and I checked out one day, and I remembered it's the one photo you kept telling me about. I hope you like it.” She handed me a rectangular-shaped object wrapped in light brown wrapping paper. "Open it," she encouraged me.

I unwrapped the paper, feeling my heart skip a beat over her thoughtfulness. It was a stunning, black-and-white, framed photograph of a young man, his facial features so rugged and edgy; his expression tangible, exposed, and vulnerable. His lips were parted, and there were a few wet strands of hair that fell over his forehead. I let out a sigh as I eventually took my eyes off the photo and peered over at my best friend. "Thank you so much, Daph," I whispered, gliding my fingertips across the narrow, dark-brown frame.



"I guess you won't be able to take it with you when you leave," she replied, trying to smile back at me, but failing miserably. The expression on her face seemed to echo my own feelings inside: relief at being able to leave such a bigoted school – and father – but also sadness over having to say goodbye to my one, true, deeply loved friend.
"I actually don't give a damn about what I will or won’t be able to do at this place," I told her, my lips firmly pressed together. "It's not like a real military academy; it's a fucking boarding school for screwed up rich kids such as myself, with even more fucked up parents, who wish their sons would never have been born in the first place." I had to stop when I felt tears at the back of my throat.

"Don't say that," Daphne told me gently, placing her hand on mine. “There’s nothing wrong with you, and you are NOT fucked up. It’s everyone else who won’t accept you for who are that have the problem.”

“Well, my mom told me so herself,” I divulged as Daphne’s mouth hung open in shcok. “She…she told me that sometimes she wished she had never had me. So I guess I'll be better off at that place, anyway.” My throat constricted as I swallowed hard, recalling the dismay I had felt when she had told me that. It had been said in a moment of anger and frustration some time ago when I had told her I was going out late one night, and she didn’t want me to, but what she had said stuck with me even to this day; perhaps more so now in light of what was happening.

"Well… why won't we just forget about all that now? Daphne suggested. "Why won't we go somewhere tonight, and just hang out for a while?"

I laughed humorously. "I'm grounded for life, remember?"

She huffed in disgust. “Yeah. I had forgotten. Fuck.”

"My thoughts exactly, but hey, Daph, don't let that ruin your plans tonight," I replied, unable to keep the frustration and sadness out of my voice.

"Please… as if I have anywhere else to go." She scowled as she pulled out a joint from her backpack.

"So have you decided what your major’s gonna be in college?" I asked her, trying to change the subject as she passed the joint over to me after taking a smoke; I inhaled the sweet scent before returning it to her.

"Psychology, of course," she informed me; that wasn’t a surprise; Daphne had always been fascinated with what made people tick. "So do you think there’ll be any fuckable guys for me in the Psychology Department at Carnegie Mellon?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye, giggling as she took another drag of the joint.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something, Daph." I paused for a moment before I continued, smirking at her, despite the circumstances as a thought occurred to me. “What about ME? Do you think I’ll be able to find any? I bet there's more butt fucking going on in this military academy my dad's about to send me to than in the back room of the club Chris and I went to the other night. Wouldn’t THAT be a big ‘fuck you’ to my dear, old Dad?” My look of satisfaction over that idea, however, died on my face as my thoughts filtered back to Chris, and what had happened to him. I closed my eyes then, letting the thick, heavy smoke wrap me in a hazy blanket to dull my feelings.

Noticing the look on my face, I felt Daphne reach over and clasp my hand in companionable silence as I sat there with my eyes closed, wondering what my future would hold.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _


- One week later, Justin's parents’ home, Pittsburgh -

Bacon and eggs, what the fuck? I lifted my head from the pillow, opening my eyes to a bright light of late winter sun that was pouring in from the window, and a distinctive smell of my favorite breakfast filtering up from downstairs in the kitchen.

"Justin? Are you coming down for breakfast, honey?" I heard my mom's voice calling me.

HONEY? What the fuck? My head was pounding as I looked around the room, noticing the remains of my and Daphne's abrupt going away party last night. There had been NOTHING sexual about it, of course, but there was an empty KFC bucket on the floor (how the fuck did she get it in here?), and a large, empty pizza box with a few, empty Doritos’ bags, and what looked like a dozen, empty beer bottles and stubbed joint buds. Fuck! I couldn’t even think about breakfast right then, let alone withstand a dose of unexpected, 'picture-perfect,’ cheesy family moments only hours before they're literally sending me away like some stray pet that had overstayed its welcome.

Still, I knew I couldn’t be totally angry with my mom, especially not after Daphne had told me that she had called her mom last week after Chris Hobbs was bashed. I tried to hold onto that thought as I walked to the shower. When I entered the bathroom, however, a troubling thought crossed my mind. How would I be able to share a shower with a group of guys in military school? I had enough trouble as it was while I tried to find various excuses to stay away from the showers at St. James' locker rooms, unable to help lurking around them as I tried to hide my boner in my gym shorts, but I don't know if it that would be as effective in that fucking place.

'I'll be right down as soon as I take a shower!” I called back to her, swallowing hard as I hurried to turn on the water and closed the door.

As I walked downstairs ten minutes later, my mom looked as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Justin! What have you done to your hair, sweetheart?" she cried in dismay.

I shrugged. What did it matter to her, especially NOW? "Daphne buzzed it off last night. She used her dad's clippers. Isn't that how ALL the imprisoned, fucked up boys are supposed to look like at St. George's Military Academy for Boys?" I quip sarcastically, feeling the edges of my mouth rise upwards in a bitter smirk.

"Don't get smart with your mother, boy. And watch your language!” My dad's chilling voice cut me off as he entered the kitchen. "Even though it’s debatable if you deserve it, eat some breakfast and finish your packing so I can drive you to the train station. Traffic is really heavy now already, and I don’t want to be late for work.” He said it as if it were just another day; not the last time I would possibly see them again, at least for the next few years. Perhaps that made both of them happy, though, I couldn’t help thinking.

“I'm not really hungry, mom," I told her defiantly, my lips pressed tightly together. I noticed a fleeting expression of sadness cross her face before she glanced over at my father, who didn’t even look up from the newspaper he was now reading at the table.

"Let me wrap it up for you, then,” she suggested softly. “And I'll make you some sandwiches to go…"
I shook my head in disgust. Did she think I was going on some field trip at school? It sure sounded like it. "Okay…I'll be upstairs," I replied curtly at last, turning on my heels to go to my room. Once there, I grabbed my large, half-packed, worn out duffel bag to absently throw some more stuff in there, including my toothbrush, my favorite toothpaste, and shower gel.

"What's taking you so long?" I heard my dad growl from downstairs as he jiggled his car keys impatiently.

Fuck him! See if I care.

I took a deep breath and slowly turned to my bedside table to grab my sketch pad and a few drawing pencils, as well as my black ink pen and colored pencils from the top drawer.

Then I let out another sigh as I noticed the framed photograph Daphne gave me tucked inside the drawer, just above one of my favorite gay magazines. I impulsively grabbed the photo and put it in my bag next to my art supplies, consciously trying to concentrate on the action of packing, rather than letting myself think too much about what it meant.

"Hurry up, will you?" the old man snapped from the bottom of the stairs. He wouldn’t even call me by my own name. Not even today.

I didn’t bother to answer him. Instead, I took one more look around the room, feeling my face light up suddenly as I noticed my writing pad on the desk next to my computer. I grabbed it right away and stuck it in my bag. Then I noticed one more wrapped item on my bed. I picked it up and I realized there was a handwritten note from Daphne on it that said, "Just another going away present. Take care & good luck.” She had drawn a huge heart next to it with a winking face in her purple ink pen. I couldn’t resist as I unwrapped it right away. I smiled to myself as I grabbed the Trojan condom box that was inside, placing it deep into one of the inside pockets of my duffel bag. Just in case.

As I finally zipped my bag and picked it up to heft it onto my shoulder, I took one more look over at Daphne's bedroom window and my heart sank. I knew that soon enough Daphne herself would leave her parents’ home to move into the dorms at Carnegie Mellon, and all the other nameless faces from my senior class at St. Fucking James would move on after graduation , too, including Chris Hobbs. I found out that the poor bastard had refused to identify his attackers after he had left the hospital, claiming to not remember anything (I didn't ask; Daphne told me all about it the other day before explaining the psychological and physical effects of such a violent assault on a person's body and mind). I wonder if he remembered our time in detention, though. It didn’t really matter now anyway, because I’m being shipped away to some fucking military school, while HE gets to attend college on a football scholarship. I’m sure he’ll wind up being pushed even deeper into the closet, and won't even dare to mention the events that occurred on the night he was bashed. Fuck! I'm not even sure which one of us will have to deal with a shittier future.

But fuck it! I don't have the time to think about his lame ass at the moment. I still have an uncomfortable hour’s drive with my dad to the station, where I'll board a train to fucking Fork Union, West Virginia. Yeah, my dad certainly has a twisted sense of humor. I mean… FORK union? The man must hate me SO much he's probably out of his fucking mind. Either that, or he's simply clueless when it comes to common, gay sex lingo and the double entendre of that name. Okay, so maybe it's me who's about to lose my mind sooner rather than later before I even get there.

But anyway, good or bad that's where my father intends on me spending the next four fucking years of my life.

Not if I can help it, I thought determinedly.

I grabbed my cell phone and shoved it in my jeans pocket before I left the room.

TBC…

Comments

[techgirl-on-ij.livejournal.com]

What a sad but beautiful chapter. Love Daphne for always being there for Justin. Justin might be sent away but he won't let his dad break him!

Great update!

*hugs you*

[guavejuice.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for your heartfelt supportive feedback dear techi. You know it means a lot to me. So thrilled you feel this way about it.
*hugs back*

[908718.livejournal.com]

Craig is not very smart sending his gay son to an all Boys school.i never understood parents who can't accept that there children are not them and will choose their own path.great chapter.

[guavejuice.livejournal.com]

Thank you SO much for taking the time to read and leave such a thoughtful supportive feedback. It means a lot to me. So thrilled to know you enjoyed this chapter.
More to come...

[rulisteningbj.livejournal.com]

Sad chapter but beautifully written.

Dee Dee

[guavejuice.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment dear Dee Dee. Your honest supportive feedback means a lot to me. So thrilled to know you enjoyed this chapter.
More to come...

[hikinggirl70.livejournal.com]

Boy I am sad that Justin has to leave his best friend behind. Looking forward to the next chapter.

[guavejuice.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for your encouraging supportive feedback. It means a lot to me. SO thrilled to know you enjoyed it :)
More to come...

[yumyumpm.livejournal.com]

Thank goodness for Daphne. She's the only bright spot in Justin's life right now.

[guavejuice.livejournal.com]

She is *sigh*
Thank you for following this story and for taking the time to read and leave a supportive feedback. It means a lot to me :)
More to come...

[landlady-4rent.livejournal.com]

Powerful chapter, V.
I'm loving this. One of my most favorite songs, weapon. Can't wait to read more. Poor Justin. Hugs!

[guavejuice.livejournal.com]

Thank you SO much for your beautiful supportive feedback Annie. It means so much to me. I'm really thrilled to know you enjoyed it
*hugs back*