Leaving the Hospital; I'm Going Home (1/2)
Title: Leaving the Hospital; I'm Going Home 1/2
(Or: Six times Justin went home, and one time he didn't)
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Paring: B/J, mentions of Ben/M
Rating: R for language
Warnings: spoilers for all seasons. angst.
Summary: All he thought about lately was death, and it fucking sucked.
1.
The first time, not including when he was born, that Justin had to go to the hospital, and not including the time they found out he was allergic to Tylenol, because he couldn't remember that, was when he was in the second grade. While the doctor examined his nose, which had only just stopped bleeding, Justin told his mother what had happened.
"And she's my new friend, Mom, Daphne. We were talking, and this kid, I don't know his name. Chris? Well, he came over and was being mean to her. Really mean. Called her the 'b' word, and some other word that starts with an 'n.' I don't know what it means. Do you know? Anyway, she started crying, Mom. I couldn't just sit there? So, I stood up and told him to stop it. And he said no. And I said that I'd tell on him, so he started calling me names. Then I stomped on his foot, and that's when he punched me in the nose. It bled a lot. So then I kicked him in between his legs, like they say to on TV all the time. And he stopped being mean! It works! And then Mrs. Anderson came over and I told her what happened, and I'm not in trouble. Well, maybe a little bit, but she was really mad at Chris. He's in a lot of trouble. And Daphne stopped crying and hugged me and called me her hero before I went to the nurse, Mom. Am I in trouble, Mom?"
Jennifer looked at her son, who was squirming on the table as the doctor was fitting bandages on his nose, and knew that she really shouldn't condone his violent behavior at school. But she couldn't help but feel proud of him. At his age, standing up so strongly for what he believes in? She could only imagine what he'd be like when he was older... "No, Justin, you're not in trouble. You know you shouldn't be violent, though, but I think your nose is punishment enough." He beamed up at her from the exam table, and Jennifer thought her heart might burst from all the love and pride she felt for this child.
She looked down at her rounded belly, and hoped that while maybe this one might have a little bit less energy, that she would make her no less proud than her first born. And if she and Justin happened to stop for ice-cream on the way home, well, he was injured. He needed a little comfort, after all.
2.
"I can't believe you would be so fucking stupid, Justin!" That made his mother stand up, telling Craig to watch his mouth. "Don't say things like that to your 15 year old son!" But Justin wasn't listening. His arm hurt, and his head hurt, and he knew he was going to be grounded until forever. He hadn't meant to crash the car, but of course no one cared about that. It had happened, and that was enough.
"Damnit Justin! You don't have a license yet for a reason! You know that you're only allowed to drive with an adult in the car with you! At this rate, you're never going to get your license." Justin perked up at that. "But dad, I'm supposed to get it in-" Craig stopped him. "Enough, Justin. Not only did you hurt yourself, and Daphne, and the car, you broke the law. This isn't something anyone is going to take lightly."
Justin had a brief interlude from all the yelling when the doctor came back with his x-ray to confirm what Justin already knew: his arm was broken. In two places. He winced as he looked at the picture of his bones, snapped in half like twigs. "-you'll need to wear a cast for at least 6 to 8 weeks, Justin. At that time, we'll remove it and take another look. Then you'll probably have a soft cast for a while. I'm going to give you a sling as well, because the arm needs to be kept completely immobile for the next few weeks at least. Otherwise you run the risk of not letting your arm heal properly, not to mention you'll probably cause yourself some pain. Understand, Justin?" Justin nodded at his doctor, who left to get everything set up for his cast.
And that, of course, was an invitation for his father to start up again. "And I don't want you seeing that girl anymore, Justin. She's a bad influence." Justin gaped at him. "What? Dad, that's not fair. It wasn't even her idea! It was mine. We just wanted to go-" But his dad cut him off again. "I don't give a shit where you were going Justin! For god's sake! You're 15 years old, not a fucking baby!" Then his mother interjected again. "Craig! He made a mistake, yes, but he's still your son! Don't talk to him like that!" Craig rounded on her. "Jennifer! We've been over this! Don't fucking baby him! You want him to grow up to be some sort of sissy?"
Justin wanted to be swallowed by the ground. He knew what his dad meant by 'sissy.' A part of him wanted to tell his dad that it was too late. That he already was a sissy. But another part of him wished that he wasn't. That he was normal. Then maybe his dad wouldn't yell so much. Then maybe his dad would love him.
His dad stormed out of the room after yelling some more, and his mother was left trying to compose herself. She gave him a weak smile when she noticed him staring at her, but it didn't quite meet her eyes. As tears began to track their way down his face, he thought to himself that if finding out that your dad's love is conditional and breaking your arm and hurting your best friend isn't a reason to cry, he doesn't know what is.
3.
It was all so surreal. He'd been asleep for how long? But then, he hadn't really been asleep, had he? But that was all he did now. Sleep, that is. You'd think he'd have rested enough, but apparently not. The doctors kept telling him that it was normal, but he didn't believe that. There was nothing normal about him anymore.
But really, he didn't mind all the sleeping. When he was asleep, he didn't have to think. They gave him pills to keep the dreams away, so he could simply exist. He could pretend that he wasn't a bashing victim with a messed up head and a gimp hand and-
He could pretend.
He had visitors all the time. Everybody, except two. Except the most important... But his visitors, they all tried to cheer him up, like he was some little kid who'd scraped his knee and kept crying, not like he was an 18 year old who'd almost been killed by a guy with a baseball bat trying to bash his brains right out of his head-
Sometimes he didn't mind the visitors. Emmett was particularly funny. He always brought lots of colorful things for Justin's room, going on and on about how did they expect anyone to get better in all that drab? He always made Justin smile, and when he did, he acted like Justin had just handed him an Oscar or a winning lottery ticket or something. Emmett was definitely his favorite visitor.
But there were times, a lot of times, when he just wanted them all to leave him alone. Debbie in particular. He loved her, of course, but she never let up about how Brian never visited, and what an asshole? And it was fucking depressing. Not so much that Brian wouldn’t visit, but more that he had a reason for being visited. A part of him was glad that Brian didn’t visit him. Why would he want Brian to see him like this? He still had his head wrapped up like he had a turban, which he was grateful for since they’d shaved his head, his arm that he couldn’t even move was in this fugly brace, he was still a fucking space-case, and the list went on. He didn’t want anyone to see him, but he couldn’t keep them away.
One day when she was going on about Brian-the-asshole he told her all this. Well, yelled it. But still. And she’d gaped at him, and then started fucking crying all over the place, telling his mom that he should see a therapist because he ‘wasn’t right,’ and then he’d yelled some more and his mom tried to calm him down and the nurses came in to fucking sedate him, and his room turned into a fucking circus. And at some point in the middle of the night, when he woke up ‘cause he’d been laying the wrong way on his gimp arm, he was pretty sure he saw Brian-the-asshole standing outside his room. And he was pretty sure that Brian saw him look at him, ‘cause he did his funny eyebrow thing, but then Justin fell asleep again and it could have a dream, but he didn’t think so.
But it’d be their little secret.
After spending so long in the hospital, Justin had decided that the single worst thing about being in one was the knowing. Sure, there were other things that sucked about it, like always being confined to a bed, or nurses come in and out all day and all night, or the noises the machines made all fucking night, but those weren’t the worst things. No, the worst thing was that he knew, that somewhere in this hospital, people were dying. It was depressing, and it was creepy. It made his skin crawl. It made him dizzy. It made him crazy.
All he thought about lately was death, and it fucking sucked.
4.
Hospital chairs were fucking uncomfortable. Really, couldn’t they make an effort to make anything comforting in a hospital? You couldn’t die comfortably in a hospital, and you couldn’t wait for someone to die comfortably in a hospital. The two things above all that a person needed to be comfortable for, and it was like the hospital spat in their faces-
Justin shifted in his seat and was pulled back into the scattered conversations around him. Debbie was pacing, Ben was like a zombie and twisting his ring on his finger, Emmett looked like he wanted to bolt or vomit or quite possibly both at the same time, Ted was nowhere to be found, and Brian was just kinda there. Then he realized that he happened to be squeezing Brian’s hand so hard he thought it might break, so he loosened his grip. Brian didn’t look at him, but he squeezed Justin’s hand back for a moment.
He sighed softly and looked around, wishing for a moment that he were anywhere but here. But then, Michael had sat here for days when he’d been here, so the least he could do was return the favor- But that thought made him feel like a horrible person. This wasn’t about him, this was about Michael, and he was being a selfish twat. He shifted around again, flexing his right hand reflexively, and this time Brian did look over at him, but he stared straight ahead. He didn’t want Brian to know the kinds of things he was thinking while his best friend was in surgery after being injured in a fucking bomb.
God. A bomb. That was one of the most terrifying things that’d ever happened to him; the most terrifying that he could remember. So easily it could have been him, laying there, looking dead, in surgery now to repair his insides before he bled to death...
Jesus Christ. When had he gotten so fucking morbid? But then he thought back to a time when he’d lain in a bed in this very hospital, hearing and smelling and feeling the death all around him in this godforsaken place after having had his brains stuffed back into his head, and he had his answer.
A doctor came in and interrupted his morbid thoughts, informing them that Michael was out of surgery and was being moved to recovery, and that he should be fine. Justin could almost feel the tension snap in the room, and it seemed that everyone took a breath of relief at the same time.
Had this been what they had felt all those years ago, waiting for a doctor to come in and tell them that he was either alive or dead? But then, the doctor hadn’t told them either. Coma, that’d been their answer. No breaths of relief back then. Only more waiting. Too bad he’d missed it.
Never in a million years before would he have thought that the words coma patient would one day refer to him. But now they did, and even still, years later, when he was introduced to someone he’d see that flicker in their eyes. They knew who he was, what he’d been through. Or they thought they did. But they didn’t think like he did now, and they hadn’t lost what he had. Even now, he’d recognized a few of the nurses, and they remembered him, and they whispered about it to people he didn’t know, didn’t recognize. So fucking callous...
The doctor came back, telling them that they could see Michael now, two at a time. Debbie and Ben went first, of course. Justin sat in his godawful chair, trying to focus on Brian to keep him from thinking anymore. And Brian looked at him and knew, so he leaned over and kissed him. Distracted him. And Justin rubbed a hand through Brian’s hair, trying to do what he should have been doing all along and comforting Brian back.
And then came their turn. As Justin walked down the halls of the hospital towards Michael’s room, with Brian still clutching his hand, he felt like he’d gone back in time for a brief moment. And switched places with Michael, since he wasn’t in a coma and Brian was with him-
They came to Michael’s room and went inside, and Justin felt like all the breath had escaped from his chest. There was Michael, in one of those stupid beds, hooked up to those stupid machines, and Justin thought he might throw up. And he was a really fucking terrible person for thinking it, but he was so fucking relieved that it wasn't him in that bed.
If he wasn't already, he was really going to hell now.
Part two.