How To: Hitch a Breeder - Step 5/15
.
[ previous chapters ]
Step 5: Find Out Details / Strawberries. And Kiwi. And Shellfish.
“Justin!”
Justin jerked out of his thoughts. Since it had happened four days ago, Justin kept replaying the bathroom scene on repeat in his head. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Are you alright?”
“I’m okay. I’m just stressed at work and… yeah.”
Two cold hands touched his cheeks. She checked his forehead, too. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”
“No, mom. Don’t worry.” He smiled.
She sometimes went through phases like this one. Phases where she would be nothing but a caring mother. These phases were getting far and in-between, but Justin found it hard not to revel in them.
He couldn’t allow himself to, though. The disappointment afterwards would shred him all the more if he did.
“You aren’t taking proper care of yourself, are you?” Her voice was soft like the one Justin chose to remember her by. The sincere concern in it felt good. Too good. It wouldn’t last. Especially with what he had to do now.
He looked around the room, trying to generate some strength, but the daisies on the dresser already hung their heads.
They were blue ones today. Justin hadn’t even tried to fool himself into thinking optimistically. Blue felt appropriate.
“So, I talked to Dr. Matthews this week. He says he found a nice place for you to stay.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“NO!”
“Look, you either have to go somewhere else or you’ll have to start therapy.”
“I want neither of those things! I want my apartment! Why won’t you all leave me alone? I have an apartment!”
It broke his heart every time she brought the apartment up. He knew there hadn’t been any other options, and he’d sold it at a good price, but the guilt was still there. The money to pay for her bills had to come from somewhere - the cost of the facility and doctors had started exceeding his own financial power long ago.
“You can’t live there by yourself, you know that.”
She blinked, irritated. “I’ve lived by myself for the past nine years. I also raised you and your sister all by myself, if you might recall. And I never let anything come on you two. Never! I gave everything to be a good mother, did I not?”
Justin closed his eyes.
“Did I not?”
“Yes.” A croak. It was true.
“All I ever wanted for you was a good life. A good education, a good job, and later, a good wife, kids, a family. Even if it means with that Daphne girl. That’s all I ever wanted for you. That’s what I’ve lived for. And this is how you thank me.” She looked around the room, disgusted, angry. “I’ve dealt fine on my own. I’ve dealt fine before you abandoned me here.”
“I didn’t abandon you and you know that.” Justin tried to reason as he always did. With less and less success.
“At least if you wanted to get rid of me, you could have left me alone in my apartment. You could have at least given me that.”
“Mom, you weren’t fine alone and you’ve had a fractured knee and collar bone and several other accidents to prove that.”
It had been a year ago now, but she still couldn’t walk. Her body just wouldn’t heal itself. It had probably given up on her.
“Was I supposed to let them kill me?”
They had been the landlord and the chimney sweep. It had been the yearly routine check of all the fireplaces in the house.
But Justin was not going to tell her that. Not for the fiftieth time.
“Mom.” He took her ever cold hand in his. She resisted only a little. “Mom, look at me.” It wouldn’t work. It never did. But Justin couldn’t give up just yet. “Please, Mom, please let them start therapy,” he begged.
Jennifer yanked her hand from his hold. “Get out of my house!” she yelled. “I don’t want to see any of you people ever again!”
This wasn’t her. She wasn’t herself. Doctor Matthews had advised Justin to tell himself that.
It didn’t always work.
It was time to get some coffee. Justin willed himself to take a couple of deep breaths and stood up. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I’ll bring you a magazine from the cafeteria.”
Jennifer regarded him through the distrustful slits that had become her mimic reaction to almost everything. It was the look that Justin refused to memorize her by, that he wouldn’t let replace the open, lively looks that lived in his memory.
Breathing normally became easier the further along the corridors he got. The coffee vending machine still wasn’t fixed. Fortunately, by now, Justin was an expert. He jiggled the release lever twice, gave the side of the machine three smacks and waited.
He checked his reflection in the narrow mirror next to the cash-gobbling monstrosity. His shirt looked different from the one he remembered throwing on that morning, though Justin knew it was the same. His face… something looked different about his face. He had noticed that yesterday already. It just felt different. His shirt felt different. His skin felt different.
What if the mirror knew that Justin had kissed a guy?
But no, it didn’t count because he’d pushed Brian away. It had only been three or four seconds, if that many.
He could still remember how Brian had tasted.
Brian had fucking kissed him and it really could’ve been no more than a couple of measly seconds. Seconds after which he’d realized the wrongness.
And as he had, he just pushed.
+
<<
Brian wasn’t sure how exactly it had happened, but somehow between Cynthia telling him that she was ordering take-out from that new Chinese place and now, he’d ended up in one of those ridiculous no-lumbar-support swivel chairs that, paradoxically, were supposed to be good for your back, grouped around Cynthia’s desk with her, Ted and Justin. They were talking about the most trivial things, teaching Ted how to hold the chopsticks, mocking Ted about the chopsticks, and messing up the overzealous receptionist’s sacred post-it system.
Brian couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that relaxed.
It was 10pm by then and their day had been a tirade of stress and bitching and Cynthia had ordered that they all unwind when they finally finished for the day. Tomorrow would be the final presentation to Zamora and Brian was looking forward to not having to deal personally with the guy any longer. Justin had mentioned much of the same when he came in in the afternoon. Originally just wanting to discuss last touch-ups, Brian suddenly thought of trying a couple of different things and Justin ended up occupying a desk at Kinnetik’s art department for the rest of the day.
Sometime during the course of the evening, when he’d sent Justin to tweak a design for the tenth time - something Justin was irritatingly immune to - he’d decided that Justin was going to be at the meeting the next day as well. Justin had been heavily involved in the project and it was only practical to have someone there who could answer technical questions regarding the design.
Cynthia dug into the third of the food bags and put out the mixed fruit cups she’d ordered for dessert. “I didn’t know what everyone likes, so I got four different mixes.” She chose at random and put one of the cups in front of everyone.
Brian watched Justin lift his cup and inspect the contents. He put it back down.
“Here, you can have mine.” Brian reached over and switched their cups. “You’re allergic to strawberries, right?” And to kiwi. And to shellfish.
A week ago, they had somehow touched the food allergies topic.
“Oh, you remember that? Thanks!” Justin smiled, and Brian silently added a couple of more things to the list in his head.
He poked Ted with the little plastic spork when he asked if Brian would switch with him, too.
>>
+
Brian swore this was the last time that he fed that stupid coffee vending machine money. You shouldn’t be made to pay for stuff that tasted like hot water with sugar and presented itself in the ugliest color imaginable.
Back in the room, he handed one cup of steaming tastelessness to Debbie, earning a distracted “Thanks, honey.”
God, he hated hospitals. The smell, the endless parade of scrubs, the people running around in their bath robes. And now he was going to spend his whole afternoon here. Between beeping machines and old people in wheelchairs who looked at him longingly and/or angrily because he could walk past them.
He hated how it almost made him feel guilty and how he had to deliberately shorten and slow his strides.
But it was Vic, so he had to come. Even though it was on his much earned free day.
“You don’t need to stay here, Brian. Go home,” Vic said, and Brian briefly wondered if he might have said his previous thought out loud.
“No, ’s fine.” Brian petted Vic’s shoulder. Somebody had to drive Debbie home, after all. And she didn’t look like she was going to leave any time soon.
He fished out his blackberry and checked his to-do list. He still needed to email Justin an okay for the Eyeconic draft, having put it off for indefinite reasons.
He hadn’t seen or talked to him since the stupid kiss incident a couple of days ago and the thought of seeing Justin again made him feel uneasy and weird.
This kind of awkwardness was new. It pissed Brian off.
What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? One minute, they were talking about the Zamora finalization ahead of them, joking over Ted’s chopstick skills (or lack thereof) and eating stale fruit out of plastic cups, and not even twelve hours later, he was kissing Justin in the goddamn men’s room.
Justin wasn’t even that hot! He looked like a fucking high-school kid! He was annoying and too fucking aware of his talent.
He was also a breeder, for Christ’s sake. Sure, he’d gotten a vibe from him here and there, but at most, Justin was some pathetic closet case. And Brian was so completely not going to deal with that.
Brian crossed through the room and sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs by the tiny window, half-listening to Debbie and Vic.
Besides, he had better things to do than try and steal Justin away from Daphne. Plenty of better things. Brian wasn’t one to steal. Men threw themselves at his feet, waited in line to suck his cock. He didn’t need to steal.
No, he was better than this.
[ Step 6 ]
[ previous chapters ]
Step 5: Find Out Details / Strawberries. And Kiwi. And Shellfish.
“Justin!”
Justin jerked out of his thoughts. Since it had happened four days ago, Justin kept replaying the bathroom scene on repeat in his head. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“Are you alright?”
“I’m okay. I’m just stressed at work and… yeah.”
Two cold hands touched his cheeks. She checked his forehead, too. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”
“No, mom. Don’t worry.” He smiled.
She sometimes went through phases like this one. Phases where she would be nothing but a caring mother. These phases were getting far and in-between, but Justin found it hard not to revel in them.
He couldn’t allow himself to, though. The disappointment afterwards would shred him all the more if he did.
“You aren’t taking proper care of yourself, are you?” Her voice was soft like the one Justin chose to remember her by. The sincere concern in it felt good. Too good. It wouldn’t last. Especially with what he had to do now.
He looked around the room, trying to generate some strength, but the daisies on the dresser already hung their heads.
They were blue ones today. Justin hadn’t even tried to fool himself into thinking optimistically. Blue felt appropriate.
“So, I talked to Dr. Matthews this week. He says he found a nice place for you to stay.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“NO!”
“Look, you either have to go somewhere else or you’ll have to start therapy.”
“I want neither of those things! I want my apartment! Why won’t you all leave me alone? I have an apartment!”
It broke his heart every time she brought the apartment up. He knew there hadn’t been any other options, and he’d sold it at a good price, but the guilt was still there. The money to pay for her bills had to come from somewhere - the cost of the facility and doctors had started exceeding his own financial power long ago.
“You can’t live there by yourself, you know that.”
She blinked, irritated. “I’ve lived by myself for the past nine years. I also raised you and your sister all by myself, if you might recall. And I never let anything come on you two. Never! I gave everything to be a good mother, did I not?”
Justin closed his eyes.
“Did I not?”
“Yes.” A croak. It was true.
“All I ever wanted for you was a good life. A good education, a good job, and later, a good wife, kids, a family. Even if it means with that Daphne girl. That’s all I ever wanted for you. That’s what I’ve lived for. And this is how you thank me.” She looked around the room, disgusted, angry. “I’ve dealt fine on my own. I’ve dealt fine before you abandoned me here.”
“I didn’t abandon you and you know that.” Justin tried to reason as he always did. With less and less success.
“At least if you wanted to get rid of me, you could have left me alone in my apartment. You could have at least given me that.”
“Mom, you weren’t fine alone and you’ve had a fractured knee and collar bone and several other accidents to prove that.”
It had been a year ago now, but she still couldn’t walk. Her body just wouldn’t heal itself. It had probably given up on her.
“Was I supposed to let them kill me?”
They had been the landlord and the chimney sweep. It had been the yearly routine check of all the fireplaces in the house.
But Justin was not going to tell her that. Not for the fiftieth time.
“Mom.” He took her ever cold hand in his. She resisted only a little. “Mom, look at me.” It wouldn’t work. It never did. But Justin couldn’t give up just yet. “Please, Mom, please let them start therapy,” he begged.
Jennifer yanked her hand from his hold. “Get out of my house!” she yelled. “I don’t want to see any of you people ever again!”
This wasn’t her. She wasn’t herself. Doctor Matthews had advised Justin to tell himself that.
It didn’t always work.
It was time to get some coffee. Justin willed himself to take a couple of deep breaths and stood up. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I’ll bring you a magazine from the cafeteria.”
Jennifer regarded him through the distrustful slits that had become her mimic reaction to almost everything. It was the look that Justin refused to memorize her by, that he wouldn’t let replace the open, lively looks that lived in his memory.
Breathing normally became easier the further along the corridors he got. The coffee vending machine still wasn’t fixed. Fortunately, by now, Justin was an expert. He jiggled the release lever twice, gave the side of the machine three smacks and waited.
He checked his reflection in the narrow mirror next to the cash-gobbling monstrosity. His shirt looked different from the one he remembered throwing on that morning, though Justin knew it was the same. His face… something looked different about his face. He had noticed that yesterday already. It just felt different. His shirt felt different. His skin felt different.
What if the mirror knew that Justin had kissed a guy?
But no, it didn’t count because he’d pushed Brian away. It had only been three or four seconds, if that many.
He could still remember how Brian had tasted.
Brian had fucking kissed him and it really could’ve been no more than a couple of measly seconds. Seconds after which he’d realized the wrongness.
And as he had, he just pushed.
+
<<
Brian wasn’t sure how exactly it had happened, but somehow between Cynthia telling him that she was ordering take-out from that new Chinese place and now, he’d ended up in one of those ridiculous no-lumbar-support swivel chairs that, paradoxically, were supposed to be good for your back, grouped around Cynthia’s desk with her, Ted and Justin. They were talking about the most trivial things, teaching Ted how to hold the chopsticks, mocking Ted about the chopsticks, and messing up the overzealous receptionist’s sacred post-it system.
Brian couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that relaxed.
It was 10pm by then and their day had been a tirade of stress and bitching and Cynthia had ordered that they all unwind when they finally finished for the day. Tomorrow would be the final presentation to Zamora and Brian was looking forward to not having to deal personally with the guy any longer. Justin had mentioned much of the same when he came in in the afternoon. Originally just wanting to discuss last touch-ups, Brian suddenly thought of trying a couple of different things and Justin ended up occupying a desk at Kinnetik’s art department for the rest of the day.
Sometime during the course of the evening, when he’d sent Justin to tweak a design for the tenth time - something Justin was irritatingly immune to - he’d decided that Justin was going to be at the meeting the next day as well. Justin had been heavily involved in the project and it was only practical to have someone there who could answer technical questions regarding the design.
Cynthia dug into the third of the food bags and put out the mixed fruit cups she’d ordered for dessert. “I didn’t know what everyone likes, so I got four different mixes.” She chose at random and put one of the cups in front of everyone.
Brian watched Justin lift his cup and inspect the contents. He put it back down.
“Here, you can have mine.” Brian reached over and switched their cups. “You’re allergic to strawberries, right?” And to kiwi. And to shellfish.
A week ago, they had somehow touched the food allergies topic.
“Oh, you remember that? Thanks!” Justin smiled, and Brian silently added a couple of more things to the list in his head.
He poked Ted with the little plastic spork when he asked if Brian would switch with him, too.
>>
+
Brian swore this was the last time that he fed that stupid coffee vending machine money. You shouldn’t be made to pay for stuff that tasted like hot water with sugar and presented itself in the ugliest color imaginable.
Back in the room, he handed one cup of steaming tastelessness to Debbie, earning a distracted “Thanks, honey.”
God, he hated hospitals. The smell, the endless parade of scrubs, the people running around in their bath robes. And now he was going to spend his whole afternoon here. Between beeping machines and old people in wheelchairs who looked at him longingly and/or angrily because he could walk past them.
He hated how it almost made him feel guilty and how he had to deliberately shorten and slow his strides.
But it was Vic, so he had to come. Even though it was on his much earned free day.
“You don’t need to stay here, Brian. Go home,” Vic said, and Brian briefly wondered if he might have said his previous thought out loud.
“No, ’s fine.” Brian petted Vic’s shoulder. Somebody had to drive Debbie home, after all. And she didn’t look like she was going to leave any time soon.
He fished out his blackberry and checked his to-do list. He still needed to email Justin an okay for the Eyeconic draft, having put it off for indefinite reasons.
He hadn’t seen or talked to him since the stupid kiss incident a couple of days ago and the thought of seeing Justin again made him feel uneasy and weird.
This kind of awkwardness was new. It pissed Brian off.
What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? One minute, they were talking about the Zamora finalization ahead of them, joking over Ted’s chopstick skills (or lack thereof) and eating stale fruit out of plastic cups, and not even twelve hours later, he was kissing Justin in the goddamn men’s room.
Justin wasn’t even that hot! He looked like a fucking high-school kid! He was annoying and too fucking aware of his talent.
He was also a breeder, for Christ’s sake. Sure, he’d gotten a vibe from him here and there, but at most, Justin was some pathetic closet case. And Brian was so completely not going to deal with that.
Brian crossed through the room and sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs by the tiny window, half-listening to Debbie and Vic.
Besides, he had better things to do than try and steal Justin away from Daphne. Plenty of better things. Brian wasn’t one to steal. Men threw themselves at his feet, waited in line to suck his cock. He didn’t need to steal.
No, he was better than this.
[ Step 6 ]