Author’s Note: This story was inspired by a note I read on the B/J list, written by jude t. Many thanks to you, my friend, for the inspiration.

Inside Pittsburgh

LF: "Welcome back to Inside Pittsburgh, our weekly look at the things that matter to us here in western Pennsylvania. I’m Lorelei Feldman.

LF: "So far, during this special hour-long program, we’ve examined the concept of hate crime. We’ve met victims of everything from harassment to assault; they were targeted because of their sex or their race, their religion or their nation of origin. Our next young man’s attacker was neither tried nor convicted of a hate crime because, legally, he didn’t commit one. Many people agree with our legislature, which has failed to amend the hate crime statute to include violence against someone because of his or her real, or perceived, sexual orientation.

LF: "The young man in question is Justin Taylor, a suburban Pittsburgh teenager who was attacked by a classmate in the parking garage of the downtown Hilton a year ago next weekend. For three days, his story dominated our local news as he clung to life at Mercy Hospital. After a six-week hospital stay and an extended period of therapy, he’s with us today. This is his first public interview about what must continue to be a painful time in his life.

LF: "Justin, thank you very much for being with us today. Tell me, what do you remember of that night? Can you recall the attack at all?"

JT: "I don’t remember much, really. Mostly flashes, like snapshots. I remember leaving home and picking Daphne up--"

LF: "Daphne - that’s your friend, Daphne Chanders? You went to the prom with her, and not your lover? Is that right?"

JT: "Yeah - uh, yes. I asked Brian, but he said no."

LF: "Brian is Brian Kinney? The two of you had been lovers for several months before that, correct?"

JT: "Yes."

LF: "Let’s hear from Mr. Kinney. Brian, how long had the two of you been lovers? Before that night?"

BK: "Several months."

LF: "Most of Justin’s senior year?"

BK: "Yes."

LF: "How did you two meet? Justin?"

JT: "On Liberty Avenue, one night."

LF: "Were you introduced? Did you have mutual friends?"

JT(shakes his head): "I was standing on the street…"

LF: "And, Brian, you just walked up to him?"

BK: "That’s right."

LF: "What did you say to him? Did you ask him to go home with you?"

BK: "Yes."

LF: "Is it true that many gay men ‘pick up’ other men this way? On the street?"

BK: "I suppose it is."

LF: "Okay, so the two of you had been ‘involved’ for some time. Justin, why did you ask Brian to the prom? Didn’t you think it would cause problems?"

JT: "I really didn’t think about it. The prom is an important night. I just wanted him to be with me."

LF: "Well, that’s certainly understandable. Tell me, Brian, did you think there would be trouble? Is that why you told Justin no?"

BK: "No, not really. I just didn’t want to go."

LF: "But you went anyway."

BK: "Yes."

LF: "Let’s hear from Daphne Chanders. Daphne, you and Justin have been friends for several years, is that correct?"

DB: "Since junior high, yes."

LF: "You knew Justin was gay?"

DB: "Yes."

LF: "Why do you think he asked you to the prom? And why did you say yes?"

DB: "We’re best friends, and we both wanted to go to the prom."

LF: "I see. Let’s get back to what you recall of that night, Justin. Do you remember any of the prom itself?"

JT: "Yes, but not much. I remember what the room looks like, and seeing everyone all dressed up. I remember dancing with Daphne, and with someone else, but I don’t remember that it was Brian."

LF: "Brian arrived after you got there, right?"

JT: "Right."

LF: "Brian, why did you decide to go, after you told Justin no?"

BK: "I guess I was remembering what it was like to be a teenager, and feel different. Justin deserved better…"

LF: "Better than what, Brian?"

BK: "Better than what he got. All he wanted was to be like any other kid, and have a good time at his prom."

LF: "And that’s the reason you went? To help Justin have a good time?"

BK: "Yes."

LF: "Justin, do you remember when Brian arrived? Do you remember dancing with him?"

JT: "Like I said, I remember dancing with someone other than Daphne, but I don’t remember that it was Brian."

LF: "Daphne, you saw Justin dancing with Brian, is that correct?"

DB: "Yes."

LF: "Was it highly suggestive and provocative, as Chris Hobbs’ lawyer said?"

DB: "I didn’t think so."

LF: "Tell me about it."

DB: "Well, Brian walked into the room and over to where we were standing. He asked me if he could borrow Justin."

LF: "Was Justin surprised to see Brian?"

DB: "Yes, and he was very happy."

LF: "Brian, did you realize what kind of impact your dance would have on Justin’s classmates, particularly Chris Hobbs?"

BK: "Justin had had trouble with him in the past. Of course, I had no idea he was as dangerous as he was."

LF: "Justin, did you believe Chris Hobbs was capable of the kind of violence he demonstrated that night?"

JT: "No. I thought then, and I still think, that-- Never mind."

LF: "Wait, Justin. What were you going to say?"

MK: "We all have our opinions about why Chris attacked my son so viciously, but I don’t think it helps to engage in speculation."

LF: "That was the voice of our final guest, Jennifer Taylor, Justin’s mother. Mrs. Taylor, I want to hear from you about what it was like to deal with Justin’s hospitalization and his extended convalescence. For now, though, let’s go back to the prom, and to the dance that was supposed to have provoked the attack. Daphne, tell us how everyone reacted."

DB: "Brian took Justin’s hand and led him onto the dance floor. Everyone kinda moved to the side. They started dancing and, other than the music, you could’ve heard a pin drop. Everyone was just standing there, watching them dance."

LF: "Had you ever seen two men dance together before?"

DB: "No, not like that."

LF: "And you saw nothing inappropriate?"

DB: "No. It was just two people in love, dancing together. When they kissed, I thought I was going to cry."

LF: "They kissed?"

DB: "Yes."

LF: "On the dance floor?"

DB: "That’s right."

LF: "What happened when the dance was over?"

DB: "They left."

LF: "They left the prom?"

DB: "They left the room. Brian told me later that Justin walked him to his car. He was coming back."

LF: "Daphne, you weren’t there when the attack happened, were you?"

DB: "No."

LF: "How did you find out about it?"

DB: "Someone came back from the bathroom and said there was an ambulance in the parking garage; that something bad had happened."

LF: "Did you know it was your friend, Justin?"

DB: "No."

LF: "When did you find out who it was?"

DB: "My friend, Courtney, came and told me that I needed to go outside. She didn’t tell me why."

LF: "And you went out there?"

DB: "Yes."

LF: "What did you see?"

DB: "They were putting a stretcher into an ambulance, and I saw Brian climbing in after it."

LF: "Were you able to speak to Brian? To find out what happened?"

DB: "No."

LF: "Brian, let’s go back to what occurred in the garage, just before the attack. What happened when you left the ballroom?"

BK: "As Daphne said, Justin walked me to my car and then he was going back inside. We talked a little and he said he’d see me later. I got into my car and watched him in the mirror as he walked away."

LF: "Justin, do you remember any of this?"

JT: "Not much. I remember hearing Brian call my name. He sounded weird. I turned around… The next thing I remember was waking up, in the hospital."

LF: "Brian, you called Justin’s name to warn him?"

BK: "Yes. I saw Hobbs come out of the shadows against the wall. He had something in his hand, but I couldn’t tell what it was, except it seemed to be some kind of weapon."

LF: "It was a baseball bat."

BK: "Yes."

LF: "So you yelled Justin’s name?"

BK: "Yeah, but it was too late."

LF: "Brian, you were the only witness to the attack, is that correct?"

BK: "Yes."

LF: "What did you do?"

BK: "I was out of the car, moving, before he hit him."

LF: "You were trying to prevent it?"

BK: "Yes, but I couldn’t get there in time."

LF: "There was only one blow?"

BK: "That’s correct."

LF: "Once you realized that you wouldn’t be able to prevent the attack, what did you do?"

BK: "I continued running toward Justin… To where he’d fallen."

LF: "What were you thinking at that moment, Brian? Can you tell us?"

BK: "I… I’m not sure I was thinking at all."

LF: "Did you recognize Chris Hobbs?"

BK: "I wasn’t even thinking about him. "

LF: "But you took the time to hit him with his baseball bat. Were you trying to ensure that he didn’t get away?"

BK: "I don’t remember."

LF: "Now, when you went over to Justin, he was unconscious?"

BK: "Yes."

LF: "Did you call 911 immediately?"

BK: "Yes, I think so."

LF: "What did you do while you were waiting for the ambulance? Were you on the phone the entire time?"

BK: "She told me to stay on the line. Not to hang up."

LF: "Was Justin moving at all? How much blood was there?"

BK: "There was… It was just really, really bad. I could tell that."

LF: "I see. We’re almost out of time for this segment and I want to talk to Jennifer Taylor for a minute. Jennifer, it was a long and difficult time for Justin in the hospital, wasn’t it?"

MT: "Yes, it was. He was in a coma for two weeks and there were four more weeks of intensive therapy before we could take him home."

LF: "Physical therapy? Emotional?"

MT: "Both, yes. Justin had to learn to use his right hand again. In addition, he suffered from post traumatic stress disorder."

LF: "How did that manifest itself? Nightmares?"

MT: "Yes. He had problems relating to people."

LF: "You had to learn how to draw again, is that right, Justin?"

JT: "Kinda. My cerebral motor cortex was damaged. It took lots of occupational therapy, but now my right hand is just about back to normal."

LF: "Are there any lingering problems? A year later?"

JT: "I still have some bad dreams, but not very often. I don’t take any medication and the therapy is finished."

LF: "Mrs. Taylor, did you ever think, when you sat at Justin’s bedside, that you would ever have your son back again, the way he was before?"

MT: "Justin’s recovery was no less than remarkable. We owe a huge debt to the doctors and nurses at Mercy Hospital, who were absolutely wonderful to us. We’re also blessed to have some very loyal and unselfish friends who stuck by us throughout Justin’s hospitalization and afterward. These two young people here, Daphne and Brian, were at the hospital day after day. They were both there for Justin in the weeks following the attack, and they continue to be there for him. But the most amazing aspect of this very sad story was Justin himself. He refuses to give in to the forces of hate and bigotry. He’s a shining example of how we should all live our lives, with courage and with dignity.

LF: "Thank you, Jennifer. I’m sure we all wholeheartedly agree with your thoughts about this. In the few seconds remaining, I want to ask Justin, what’s ahead for you?"

JT: "I’m just finishing my first year at the Pittsburgh Institute for Fine Arts."

LF: "In visual arts, correct?"

JT: "Yes."

LF: "What do you see yourself doing, both careerwise and personally, in five years?"

JT: "I want be drawing, definitely. Personally, who knows what will happen? I hope I’d have found someone to spend my life with."

LF: "You moved in with Brian shortly after you got out of the hospital, didn’t you? How are things going, considering the difference in your ages?"

JT: "Um, it was okay, but we’re not together any more."

LF: "No? I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of that."

MT: "Lorelei, Justin is too modest to tell you that he’s just finished illustrating a comic book."

LF: "I didn’t know about that, Justin. Tell us about it."

JT: "It’s called Rage. I did it with a… friend of mine, Michael Novotny."

LF: "How did you enjoy drawing a comic? Will there be others?"

JT: "It was great to see my work in print. I don’t know if it’ll be a series or not."

LF: "Well, we’ll all be on the lookout for future issues of… what was the name of it?"

JT: "Rage."

LF: "Rage. Right. It’s time to thank all of you for being here this morning, and for sharing your story with us. In conclusion, I’ll give Justin the last word. We said, at the beginning of this segment, that Chris Hobbs wasn’t guilty of a hate crime. What was he convicted of?

JT: "He pled guilty to simple assault and was given a suspended sentence and community service."

LF: "Have you seen him since the attack?"

JT: "I ran into him by accident one day."

LF: "Did he express any remorse over what he did?"

JT: "No."

LF: "How do you feel about what happened? About Chris Hobbs? Have you forgiven him?"

JT: "I don’t hate him or anything, and I don’t understand why he did what he did. I think he should have been punished more than he was. His knee injury kept him from taking the football scholarship he’d gotten from Penn State. I heard he’s going to Pitt instead. Can I say one more thing?"

LF: "Yes."

JT: "A lot of people think it shouldn’t be a hate crime to attack a homosexual. I don’t understand. It’s wrong to hit someone because he’s black or a Jew or a Muslim. We - gay people - don’t want special treatment or anything. All we want is to have the same chances as everyone else, to be happy and to pursue our dreams; to be ourselves and to love whomever we choose. That’s not so hard to understand, is it?"

LF: "That was very eloquently put, Justin. Thank you, again, for your honesty and your candor."

The people sitting on the small stage remained still as the camera moved in for one last close-up of Justin’s face. "We’re off!" yelled the stage manager.

The petite redheaded woman pulled the earpiece off and smiled at her companions. "That was great, guys. Thanks again."

Justin, Jennifer and Daphne acknowledged her thanks with variations on the theme of ‘you’re welcome’.

"If you’ll go with Rachel, she’ll help you get your makeup off and you’ll be free to go."

*&*&*&*&*

"Sweetheart?" Jennifer fished her car keys out of her purse. "Do you need a ride back to Ethan’s?"

"Thanks, Mom, but Daphne already offered."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I have to go to work in a couple hours." Justin walked his mother to the door of the tiny room and kissed her goodbye.

"When did I offer to take you home?" Daphne looked puzzled.

"Do you mind?" Justin asked, imploringly.

"No." Daphne smiled.

Justin walked outside with Daphne and came back in a minute later.

Brian was still sitting in the makeup chair. He hadn’t said anything since they’d left the studio.

Justin was standing at the door. "Thanks for agreeing to do this. I know it wasn’t easy."

"My only solace is in the fact that no self-respecting fag will be awake at eight in the morning on Sunday, so no one I know saw it." Brian’s voice was soft, almost intoxicating, but Justin could detect a note of despair.

"Are you all right?"

Brian shrugged. "Whenever I think I’m beginning to forget what happened, something brings it all back."

"Like, today?" Justin walked back across the room, to where Brian was sitting.

"Not just today."

Justin took a step closer. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What my mom said about you coming to the hospital every day. Did she just say that? Or did you--"

"I was there, every night."

"Why didn’t I ever see you?"

"No one saw me. I came after you went to sleep."

"But, why?"

"At first, I had to make sure you were still alive. After that…" Brian stood up. "You’d better get going."

"Would you mind…? Taking me home?"

"I thought Daphne was waiting for you."

"I sent her home."

Brian looked down into pale blue eyes. "Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Alone." Justin shrugged. "C-can I buy you breakfast?"

"Sure." Brian motioned for the younger man to leave the small room, and then followed him.

*&*&*&*&*

When they were in the Jeep, Brian started the engine. "Where do you wanna eat?"

"Your place? I could make omelets, like I used to."

"I don’t think I have any eggs." The black Jeep pulled slowly out of the parking lot.

*&*&*&*&*

After a quick stop at the market, they drove back to the apartment on Tremont and walked up the stairs to the top floor. Opening the door, Brian carried the bags to the kitchen and then walked up to the bedroom. "Make yourself at home. I’m getting out of this suit."

Justin busied himself with cracking eggs and heating the frying pan. When Brian returned from the bedroom, dressed in faded blue jeans and a black tank top, he glanced at him. "Can you make the coffee? And the toast?"

"Anything else?" Brian moved around the kitchen.

"No, that’s fine for now." Justin looked up from his work. "The omelets are almost done."

"Do you still have any clothes left here?" Brian asked, as he dropped the bread into the toaster. "You look uncomfortable in those clothes."

"I don’t know. There may still be some in the back of the closet."

"Why don’t you look? I’ll pour the juice."

When Justin returned to the kitchen, he was dressed in black jeans that were skintight. His gray t-shirt clung snugly to his small torso. "These are too small, but they’re all I could find." He stood back, allowing Brian to look at him. "What do you think?"

"I think you’re skinnier now than when you lived here." He couldn’t help staring at the slight body that was once so familiar to him. "Don’t you and your boyfriend believe in eating?"

Justin opened his mouth to reply, but changed his mind. "Let’s eat before it gets cold."

The next several minutes were spent demolishing the food they’d just cooked. When they were finished, they took their dirty dishes back to the kitchen, rinsed them off and stacked them in the dishwasher. "What did you want to talk about?" Brian’s tone sounded casual.

Justin glanced up. "Why don’t we go and sit down? Do you want more orange juice?"

"Sure." Brian had known Justin long enough to recognize when something was wrong, but he said nothing, preferring to let Justin tell him in his time. He walked over to the couch and sat down, taking the glass of orange juice that was offered to him.

Justin sat a respectable distance away, in the chair. He poured a generous amount of vodka into his orange juice before raising it to his lips.

"If you need vodka to say whatever it is that you think you want to say to me, the least you can do is share it. Especially, considering that it’s *my* vodka in the first place." A sheepish grin on his face, Justin handed the clear bottle over.

When they had both downed a very strong screwdriver apiece, Justin took a deep breath. "I-I just wanted to let you know that I made a decision - a very important decision."

"About?" Brian wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this, but Justin seemed to need to tell him.

"I’m moving out of Ethan’s apartment."

Brian forced his face to remain passive, even though he was surprised. "Trouble in paradise?"

Justin looked down. "Brian, please don’t make fun of me."

Brian licked his lips as he gazed at the downturned head. This was serious - at least, it was to Justin. "I’m sorry. What happened?"

"Not any one thing. It just…" Justin walked over to the refrigerator and fetched the pitcher of orange juice, bringing it back to where Brian was sitting. "It just wasn’t working, that’s all. I moved in with him for all the wrong reasons…"

"And he’s going to let you go?" Brian spoke softly, aware of how vulnerable Justin was. "Just like that?"

"I haven’t told him yet, actually." Justin poured more vodka into his glass. "I just made up my mind this morning, during the tv thing."

"What?!" Brian was taken aback. "What made you decide?"

"It hasn’t been… right between us, from the beginning. I know he loves me but…"

"You don’t love him." Brian’s ability to read Justin’s emotions was coming back. Slowly.

Justin poured more vodka into his glass. Ignoring the pitcher of orange juice, he drank the clear liquid straight. "I never did. He knew that. At least, I think he did."

Now it was Brian’s turn to pick up the vodka bottle. He bypassed the glass altogether, taking a huge drink directly from the bottle. "What’re you going to do now? Where’re you going to live?"

"I don’t know." Justin shrugged. "At my mom’s… Or Debbie’s…"

"Why are you telling me this? What difference do you think it makes to me?"

The half-smile that was in the process of appearing on the teenager’s face disappeared quickly. "I was watching you today, at the tv studio, when you were talking about… I’d forgotten how weird you were about that whole thing."

"Weird?" Brian was incredulous. "I was being weird?"

"Yeah." Justin nodded. He grabbed the bottle out of Brian’s grasp, poured a generous amount in his glass, and handed it back. "You never wanted to talk about it. Hell, you seemed to want to pretend it never happened…"

"Justin, you almost died!" Brian’s voice sounded strange, even to him. He took a breath and continued, in a calmer tone. "Of course, I didn’t want to think about it." He snatched his cigarettes from the table and lit one, inhaling deeply.

"I know that." Justin took another drink. "That’s not all, though. Is it?"

Brian held out his hands up, palms out. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

The bright, sweet smile began returning to the boyish face. "You remember *everything* that happened that night, don’t you?" Brian nodded, silently. "And I remember practically nothing, other than what you and Daph told me. Don’t you think that’s part of the problem?"

"What?" Brian was still confused. "*What’s* the problem?"

Justin moved over to sit next to Brian on the couch. "That was ‘our’ night - the best night of our life together." Brian laughed. "Why are you laughing?"

"That’s what you said, that it was the best night of your life."

Justin nodded solemnly. "You don’t think you deserve to be happy. That night, you were happy, and I got hurt."

Brian took another drink. "What’re you talking about?"

"Will you shut up and listen?" Justin pulled a cigarette from Brian’s pack; Brian handed him the lighter. "You think *I* was being punished for something *you* did. It also explains why you pushed me away…"

"I pushed you away? Exactly when did that happen?"

"At the Rage party. Was it a totally weird coincidence that Lindsay and Melanie told me you were looking for me at the exact same time you were fucking that guy in the back room? And then Ethan just happened to show up when he did."

"Now, wait a minute! I had nothing to do with Ethan showing up!" Brian stamped the cigarette out roughly in the ashtray and lit another one immediately.

"So you admit sending Mel and Lindz after me?"

"Shit, Justin!" Despite his best efforts to feign anger, Brian couldn’t stop the smile from creeping over his face. "I’d almost forgotten how infuriating it was to carry on a conversation with you."

"Is it my fault you can’t keep up with my intellect?" They both laughed. "Brian." Justin face was close to Brian’s; close enough to feel his warm breath. "You pushed me away because you didn’t think you deserved me, didn’t you? You don’t think anyone can love you, do you?" He paused, waiting on a response that didn’t come. "That’s where you’re wrong. Lindsay loves you, and so does Michael, Debbie. Even Emmett and Ted love you, in their way." He paused again, smiling up at his companion. "Then there’s Gus. He’s so cute when he calls you Da-Da." The pale face moved over so he could whisper softly into Brian’s ear, "And me, of course. I love you too. I never told you…"

"I knew."

After waiting, for a few seconds, for a reciprocal declaration, Justin leaned forward against Brian. "I knew too."

Brian pulled Justin’s head away from his shoulder, so he could look at his face. "You knew what?"

"That you love me - *loved* me. I know I fucked it up when I walked out on you." Justin looked away.

Wrapping his arms around the teenager, Brian pulled him forward so that he was leaning against him again. "You didn’t fuck anything up, Justin. I still…" He hesitated. "You know…"

Justin turned his face up toward Brian’s. "Yeah… I know…" When their lips met, it was just like coming home again, for both of them.