Mechanical Michelangelo
THIRTY EIGHT Home is Where Your Roof is
“He’ll come home with me of course,” Jennifer said to the doctor, ignoring Justin as he sat in a hospital chair, invisible, alone. “Molly can move into the smaller room to give Justin more space…”
No way was he going to kick Molly out of her room, no way would he be staying with his mother, he’d rather be on the streets. He gave a small laugh and she shot a disapproving look at him. “Don’t kick Mol out of her room.”
She looked back at the doctor without answering him. “…And I’m sure the family will help bringing him to his physiotherapy.”
Justin screamed silently, watching the doctor nod at his mother, talk to her as if the bat had damaged more than his ability to draw. Fuck, he shouldn’t even be talking to her, she wasn’t his emergency contact, she was barely a mother to him anymore.
His chest began to feel tight and his head hurt so badly he could barely keep his eyes open. “I’m going home,” he said loudly, as calmly as he was able.
Jennifer looked down at him, smiled patronisingly and almost went to brush his hair out of his eyes, almost; she let her hand drop away as he flinched away from her. “Of course you are, dear.”
“No, I mean New York, my home.” He couldn’t stay with her, pretend to be the seventeen year old son she’d lost three years before, pretend that he wasn’t an ex-prostitute, pretend that she didn’t know he was an ex-prostitute.
“Justin, don’t be silly, you need to be looked after…”
“Like I needed to be looked after three years ago? Brian did it then, and after him there was Cam and Bren, they’re quite capable of carrying on, I think they’re used to it by now.”
“Justin, you can’t go back to New York yet, your doctors are here.”
He hated how his mother said his name, how she had to say it before each sentence in case he forgot who she was talking to. “No, they’re not, I’m only here now because this is where I got bashed in the head, my doctors, my life is in New York.”
“What’s going on here?” Brian drawled as he and Cameron entered the room carrying an array of books and puzzles to keep Justin occupied. Brian piled Philip Pullman onto the hospital table and fixed his gaze firmly on Jen.
“Tell him, he can’t go back there, his doctors are here.” Jennifer pleaded with Brian, only she’d not realised, she was pleading to the wrong person. Cam had much more sway with the blond than Brian did now.
Cam leaned casually against the doorframe, assessing the situation carefully. The doctor looked young and inexperienced, ill equipped to deal with their family dynamics.
“Is it safe for Justin to travel back to New York yet, doctor?” Cam asked calmly.
The doctor looked at Cam like he was a lifeline, as if he was the only sane person there and he probably was.
“I wouldn’t recommend, you’ve suffered tremendous injuries, Justin, flying is out of the question for now, and I’d recommend staying in Pittsburgh until you’re in a more stable condition.”
He looked at Justin for the first time and with one pitiful look Justin felt phantom fingers grasp his airway. He gasped, wheezing when air couldn’t get to his lungs. Brian pushed past and knelt next to him, gripping his hand.
“Justin, are you alright?”
“It’s a panic attack, calm down, Justin.” The doctor seemed to wake from a trance and turned into a professional, pressing an oxygen mask over his mouth until the fierce grip around his throat seemed to lessen.
Eventually he pulled the mask away, letting his good hand fall limply into his lap. He looked up at Cam, pale blue eyes full of anguish. “I’m not staying here, Cam.” There was resolve in his voice and a silent conversation that told his friend that he wouldn’t, couldn’t stay with his mother during his recovery.
“Justin, you’re being ridiculous, you have to come back with me, you need me.”
Justin shook his head, standing, unable to carry on sitting as they all stood over him. “No mom, I haven’t needed you in a long time.”
Tears fell from Jennifer’s eyes and Justin forced himself to be strong, he wouldn’t give in to her tears.
“You almost died; I just want you with me, where I can see you.”
“I’ve lived on my own too long to let you mother me. Fuck, I need to get out of here.” He walked out of the room, Jennifer running after him.
“Where are you going?” She demanded.
He looked over his shoulder, “To the gardens, I need some fresh air.”
***
Justin sat on the bench opposite the dying rosebushes, their leaves were brown and brittle, his fingers itched to draw them, to give them life, the picture was so clear in his mind, how the frosty moonlight glistened over each leaf, how the shadows danced on the soil beneath.
His hand twitched at the thought, twitched uselessly, it scared him, he felt like he was shut in a tiny room and he couldn’t get out. Not being able to use his hand made everything seem claustrophobic, even the air seemed to crowd him.
He looked down at his hand, curling uselessly, leaning on his thigh. His tattoos seemed to stand out more than usual, and for the first time since he’d realised just what a mess he’d made of his palms, he didn’t feel the need to cover them up with gloves. It was too late now anyone, everyone had seen.
Maybe he deserved this; it was what he was aiming towards as he continued to tattoo infected skin, the needle digging into his weeping hands, injecting black ink. If Bren hadn’t found him back then he would have probably lost them.
He had to go back home, where people might know what happened to him, but wouldn’t hound him, where their disapproving looks wouldn’t matter, where people wouldn’t be shocked because he’d sold his ass.
Pittsburgh was his past, full of people that hated him for being different, for having the balls to come out while at school, though Brian didn’t really give him a choice there. No matter what, in the eyes of the people he went to school with, he’d always be the one they talked about, the gay one that disappeared and let men fuck him for a few bucks. It wouldn’t matter that he’d been a successful tattooist, it didn’t matter now anyway, he probably would never tattoo again.
He could barely do the exercises the physiotherapist gave him.
Justin jumped as someone sat next to him, he turned around and saw Brian, he was holding out a thick jumper. Justin pulled it over his head gratefully, only now realising how cold it was.
“Tonight isn’t one of the best nights for a stroll, and in the future, I’d suggest swapping the slippers for shoes.” Brian raised an eyebrow, then looked down at Justin’s slipper clad feet.
Justin let out a soft laugh, and didn’t flinch away as Brian butted his shoulder with his own. “I can’t stay with my mother, Bri. One weeks vacation with her was enough to drive us both insane. And I can’t live with her disappointment.”
“Over what?”
“The hustling,” Justin turned to look at him, his blue eyes wide, “I can’t stand to see your disappointment either.”
“I’m not disappointed, I just-wished I’d done something different, so you’d never had to make that decision.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Fuck, how can you say that? And I’m not talking just about the hustling, we do what we have to do to survive, but you almost tattooed your life away, as you so kindly showed me, if I hadn’t kicked you out that day none of it would have happened.”
“Yeah, none of it,” Justin stressed, “I wouldn’t have learned to tattoo, I wouldn’t have Cam, Bren, or the guys in my life and I would probably still be pining after you, leaning on you like a love sick, weak little fag. I needed to get away, I see that now, my father did me a favour when he told me to stay away.”
“You don’t have to stay away now. If you don’t want to stay with your mother you can stay with me.”
Justin laughed and shook his head. “Because that worked so great before.”
“I think we’ve both matured since then, plus, we both know you’ll be going back to New York as soon as you’re given the all clear.”
“Why are you being so reasonable? Why haven’t you shouted, or told me how very disappointed you are in me yet?” Justin asked, confusion racing around his muddled brain, making his head ache more so than usual.
“I’m not going to lie, I wish you’d told me about the hustling, to find out something like that off the TV is something I never want to repeat.”
“I didn’t want anyone to find out,” Justin admitted, “I’d done so well at keeping my New York life and my Pittsburgh life separate until you came back on the scene.”
“Yeah, well, I’m good at addling the brain, just ask Melanie. So, what do you say about my offer?”
“I don’t think so Bri.”
“If I can cope with five hustlers taking over my pad these last few weeks, I think I can cope with one recovering tattooist, alright?”
“They’re staying with you? They wouldn’t say, just gave me this smug look. I bet Mikey isn’t happy.”
Brian snorted, “It’s none of his business, and it’s not as if I’m going to adopt one of the little tykes.”
“He’ll come home with me of course,” Jennifer said to the doctor, ignoring Justin as he sat in a hospital chair, invisible, alone. “Molly can move into the smaller room to give Justin more space…”
No way was he going to kick Molly out of her room, no way would he be staying with his mother, he’d rather be on the streets. He gave a small laugh and she shot a disapproving look at him. “Don’t kick Mol out of her room.”
She looked back at the doctor without answering him. “…And I’m sure the family will help bringing him to his physiotherapy.”
Justin screamed silently, watching the doctor nod at his mother, talk to her as if the bat had damaged more than his ability to draw. Fuck, he shouldn’t even be talking to her, she wasn’t his emergency contact, she was barely a mother to him anymore.
His chest began to feel tight and his head hurt so badly he could barely keep his eyes open. “I’m going home,” he said loudly, as calmly as he was able.
Jennifer looked down at him, smiled patronisingly and almost went to brush his hair out of his eyes, almost; she let her hand drop away as he flinched away from her. “Of course you are, dear.”
“No, I mean New York, my home.” He couldn’t stay with her, pretend to be the seventeen year old son she’d lost three years before, pretend that he wasn’t an ex-prostitute, pretend that she didn’t know he was an ex-prostitute.
“Justin, don’t be silly, you need to be looked after…”
“Like I needed to be looked after three years ago? Brian did it then, and after him there was Cam and Bren, they’re quite capable of carrying on, I think they’re used to it by now.”
“Justin, you can’t go back to New York yet, your doctors are here.”
He hated how his mother said his name, how she had to say it before each sentence in case he forgot who she was talking to. “No, they’re not, I’m only here now because this is where I got bashed in the head, my doctors, my life is in New York.”
“What’s going on here?” Brian drawled as he and Cameron entered the room carrying an array of books and puzzles to keep Justin occupied. Brian piled Philip Pullman onto the hospital table and fixed his gaze firmly on Jen.
“Tell him, he can’t go back there, his doctors are here.” Jennifer pleaded with Brian, only she’d not realised, she was pleading to the wrong person. Cam had much more sway with the blond than Brian did now.
Cam leaned casually against the doorframe, assessing the situation carefully. The doctor looked young and inexperienced, ill equipped to deal with their family dynamics.
“Is it safe for Justin to travel back to New York yet, doctor?” Cam asked calmly.
The doctor looked at Cam like he was a lifeline, as if he was the only sane person there and he probably was.
“I wouldn’t recommend, you’ve suffered tremendous injuries, Justin, flying is out of the question for now, and I’d recommend staying in Pittsburgh until you’re in a more stable condition.”
He looked at Justin for the first time and with one pitiful look Justin felt phantom fingers grasp his airway. He gasped, wheezing when air couldn’t get to his lungs. Brian pushed past and knelt next to him, gripping his hand.
“Justin, are you alright?”
“It’s a panic attack, calm down, Justin.” The doctor seemed to wake from a trance and turned into a professional, pressing an oxygen mask over his mouth until the fierce grip around his throat seemed to lessen.
Eventually he pulled the mask away, letting his good hand fall limply into his lap. He looked up at Cam, pale blue eyes full of anguish. “I’m not staying here, Cam.” There was resolve in his voice and a silent conversation that told his friend that he wouldn’t, couldn’t stay with his mother during his recovery.
“Justin, you’re being ridiculous, you have to come back with me, you need me.”
Justin shook his head, standing, unable to carry on sitting as they all stood over him. “No mom, I haven’t needed you in a long time.”
Tears fell from Jennifer’s eyes and Justin forced himself to be strong, he wouldn’t give in to her tears.
“You almost died; I just want you with me, where I can see you.”
“I’ve lived on my own too long to let you mother me. Fuck, I need to get out of here.” He walked out of the room, Jennifer running after him.
“Where are you going?” She demanded.
He looked over his shoulder, “To the gardens, I need some fresh air.”
***
Justin sat on the bench opposite the dying rosebushes, their leaves were brown and brittle, his fingers itched to draw them, to give them life, the picture was so clear in his mind, how the frosty moonlight glistened over each leaf, how the shadows danced on the soil beneath.
His hand twitched at the thought, twitched uselessly, it scared him, he felt like he was shut in a tiny room and he couldn’t get out. Not being able to use his hand made everything seem claustrophobic, even the air seemed to crowd him.
He looked down at his hand, curling uselessly, leaning on his thigh. His tattoos seemed to stand out more than usual, and for the first time since he’d realised just what a mess he’d made of his palms, he didn’t feel the need to cover them up with gloves. It was too late now anyone, everyone had seen.
Maybe he deserved this; it was what he was aiming towards as he continued to tattoo infected skin, the needle digging into his weeping hands, injecting black ink. If Bren hadn’t found him back then he would have probably lost them.
He had to go back home, where people might know what happened to him, but wouldn’t hound him, where their disapproving looks wouldn’t matter, where people wouldn’t be shocked because he’d sold his ass.
Pittsburgh was his past, full of people that hated him for being different, for having the balls to come out while at school, though Brian didn’t really give him a choice there. No matter what, in the eyes of the people he went to school with, he’d always be the one they talked about, the gay one that disappeared and let men fuck him for a few bucks. It wouldn’t matter that he’d been a successful tattooist, it didn’t matter now anyway, he probably would never tattoo again.
He could barely do the exercises the physiotherapist gave him.
Justin jumped as someone sat next to him, he turned around and saw Brian, he was holding out a thick jumper. Justin pulled it over his head gratefully, only now realising how cold it was.
“Tonight isn’t one of the best nights for a stroll, and in the future, I’d suggest swapping the slippers for shoes.” Brian raised an eyebrow, then looked down at Justin’s slipper clad feet.
Justin let out a soft laugh, and didn’t flinch away as Brian butted his shoulder with his own. “I can’t stay with my mother, Bri. One weeks vacation with her was enough to drive us both insane. And I can’t live with her disappointment.”
“Over what?”
“The hustling,” Justin turned to look at him, his blue eyes wide, “I can’t stand to see your disappointment either.”
“I’m not disappointed, I just-wished I’d done something different, so you’d never had to make that decision.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Fuck, how can you say that? And I’m not talking just about the hustling, we do what we have to do to survive, but you almost tattooed your life away, as you so kindly showed me, if I hadn’t kicked you out that day none of it would have happened.”
“Yeah, none of it,” Justin stressed, “I wouldn’t have learned to tattoo, I wouldn’t have Cam, Bren, or the guys in my life and I would probably still be pining after you, leaning on you like a love sick, weak little fag. I needed to get away, I see that now, my father did me a favour when he told me to stay away.”
“You don’t have to stay away now. If you don’t want to stay with your mother you can stay with me.”
Justin laughed and shook his head. “Because that worked so great before.”
“I think we’ve both matured since then, plus, we both know you’ll be going back to New York as soon as you’re given the all clear.”
“Why are you being so reasonable? Why haven’t you shouted, or told me how very disappointed you are in me yet?” Justin asked, confusion racing around his muddled brain, making his head ache more so than usual.
“I’m not going to lie, I wish you’d told me about the hustling, to find out something like that off the TV is something I never want to repeat.”
“I didn’t want anyone to find out,” Justin admitted, “I’d done so well at keeping my New York life and my Pittsburgh life separate until you came back on the scene.”
“Yeah, well, I’m good at addling the brain, just ask Melanie. So, what do you say about my offer?”
“I don’t think so Bri.”
“If I can cope with five hustlers taking over my pad these last few weeks, I think I can cope with one recovering tattooist, alright?”
“They’re staying with you? They wouldn’t say, just gave me this smug look. I bet Mikey isn’t happy.”
Brian snorted, “It’s none of his business, and it’s not as if I’m going to adopt one of the little tykes.”