Guilty By Association
by AHS

Justin had driven Daphne to the prom. Even though she was the one with the car, and even though it wasn't a real date, he'd borrowed his mother's so he could drive and escort his best friend properly.

He hadn't known I was coming. I'd made it clear there was no way in hell I was going to a high school dance. But I showed up after all, and I borrowed Daphne's date… danced with him, kissed him, and generally shocked the corsages and boutonnières off the entire senior class.

I love freaking out straight people, but that was more a bonus in this case than what it was about. What it was about was Justin. I wanted to make him smile that smile that's only his… his for me… and I did. He lit up the night and all my feeling sorry for myself and, fuck, I was happy.

I figured one dance would be enough to make his night, and it was. Made his life, according to Justin. I didn't figure that I wouldn't be willing to let the evening end. But something changed in that moment by the jeep, when I kissed him. Something inside me dug in as I watched him walk away. Refused to be content with "later" and made me call after him.

"Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"You want to come home with me?"

I knew he did, always did, but I still felt this rush of relief when he ran back, almost tripping over his own blissed out laughter. I climbed into the driver's seat, opened his door from inside, and made myself sit back coolly when he got in. Just a little smile as I watched him from the corner of my eye, his hands tugging excitedly on my scarf around his neck.

"Why?" he asked quietly, unable to help himself.

I didn't know if he meant why was I taking him to the loft, why had I shown up at all, or something else. Fuck if I knew either, at least anything that I could say. So all I said was…

"It's prom night, Sunshine. Getting lucky's part of the deal."

He took it.

But the cool night air cut through his romantic haze enough for Justin to remember, five minutes into the drive, that he'd left Daphne at the dance without a ride home. I let him use my cell phone to call her, but maybe she couldn't hear it over the loud music, because she didn't pick up. He tried a few more times but finally had to be satisfied with leaving a voice mail.

"Shit, Daph! Where are you? Hopefully dancing with Billy and having a blast. Um, I'm gonna stay with Brian tonight, so… are you all right to get home? I figured you could probably catch a ride with Renee, since she just came with friends and she lives down the street from you. I hope that's okay, but if it's not, just yell at me tomorrow, okay? I am too fucking happy right now!… I know you're happy for me, too, Daph, and I love you for that. You're the best friend ever. Bye!"

And then it was just us. All night. We got to the loft, I took him to bed… undressed him tortuously slow and fucked him slower than that. I left the white silk scarf draped around his white silk shoulders, and he took it off and threaded it around my ass, pulling to bring me into him deeper and harder, again and again.

The whole time he stared up at me with pure love. Just because I've never been capable of it, doesn't mean I can't recognize it. (Or even feel it…) It was in his eyes from the very first time. But this time, for the first time, I never looked away. Not even as he came, shouting words I shouldn't have wanted to hear… and I came, damn near choking on them.

I held him longer than usual after, too. Not even fooling myself that it was just to make him happy. More like I didn't want to fucking let him go.

I fucked him again in our late-night shower. Around 2 a.m. he took over the kitchen, making French toast and promising to blow me if I'd count it as the next day's carbs and eat some. I decided I was getting off on surprising him, so after swallowing a plateful of the toast, I swallowed Justin instead. Both were delicious, and we fell asleep tangled and tasting cum and maple syrup.

The first rings of the phone that pulled me unwillingly from sleep, I ignored. Justin was still completely knocked out and didn't even hear them. But the phone rang again, and kept ringing, seeming to get louder and angrier with each. I looked at the clock and saw that it was only 5:52 in the morning. Ready to chew somebody out, even figuring it was probably just Mikey, barely touched down in Portland and hating it already, I finally picked up the phone and snarled a "What?"

"Brian, it's Jennifer Taylor. Please tell me Justin is with you."

She didn't sound angry, or even typically frantic. She sounded weary and kind of sad. The fact that she was hoping Justin was with me had me worried.

"Yeah, he's right here."

"I need to speak with him."

I pulled the pillow off his sleepy head and handed him the phone, mouthing, "Your mom." He rolled his eyes but smiled.

"Hi Mom. I'm sorry I didn't call you or Debbie, and shit, I forgot about the car, but… What?… Mom, you're scaring me. What happened?…… No… No! That can't… No…… Who? Who did it?"

I watched the light that had been bathing me all night dim until it was less than a flicker. His body folded in, his face crumpled with shock, and his hand pressed painfully against his heart in his chest… I think he felt it break. I think I did, too.

I sat beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, not liking that I didn't know what else to do or what the hell was happening. Listened to him stutter a few more half-sentences, sounds of pain that passed for goodbye, until the phone dropped in his lap. I hung it up silently, trying to wait and let him tell me what was wrong when he was ready, but I was crawling out of my skin to find out and fucking fix it.

"Justin…"

"We have to go to the hospital."

"Okay. Okay, just… tell me."

"I can't even… I can't even…"

"Justin, breathe." All I could think was maybe his little sister had been hurt. I grabbed his face in both hands and made him focus on me, my palms sliding some on the tears that slicked his cheeks. "Tell me."

"Daph- Daphne was attacked. She was… raped."

Godfuckingdamn. My only thought as my hands fell, the wind knocked out of me. I didn't believe in God, but I fucking hated him in that moment. For what happened to Daphne and for the part of Justin that I saw die when he had to say the words. And for this.

"Brian… it was Chris Hobbs."

His voice was hollow but echoed with anger and hatred for the fag-hating piece of shit… rapist. I wondered if Justin had ever truly hated anyone in his life before now.

I tried to hold him, offer some measly comfort, but he shrugged me off, arms wrapping around himself. I winced as I watched him try to dig his almost non-existent fingernails into his skin.

He seemed unable to move, but he could talk. I guided his hands away and his body relented, loosened until he was a rag doll I could dress. Prom tux sure as fuck wouldn't do. Wished he had some clothes at the loft. Loaned him mine. Made him lean on me as he stepped into underwear, then pants. Pulled them up his legs, zipped, fastened, rolled them up to shorten. I put his arms through sleeves, pulled a T-shirt down over his head. Sat him down and put socks on his feet. Tied his shoes. And all the while he was telling me the story.

I really didn't know how much of what he was saying was fact obtained in that brief phone call from his mother and how much his imagination was filling in for him. Didn't seem to matter. It was killing him the same.

"She walked out to the parking garage and Chris… I guess he was waiting. He grabbed her and… d-dragged her to his car and… God…… and when he was done he just dumped her out on the cold cement… He'd beat her up pretty bad and she was bleeding… I don't know how long it took for those kids to come out and find her…"

I quickly dressed myself and was looking for where I'd dropped my keys the night before… while my hands and mouth and eyes had been occupied with Justin… and I made a comment without thinking.

"She shouldn't have gone to the parking garage by herself."

I knew I'd fucked up, because just for that moment right after I said it, Justin looked at me like he wanted me dead.

"Justin, I didn't mean it like that."

"You think she deserved it? You think it was her fault? FUCK YOU, BRIAN!"

"NO, Justin… I just meant I wish she hadn't gone by herself. I wish it hadn't happened."

"She was by herself because I left her! I couldn't take five fucking minutes to go back and give her my keys?"

"That wouldn't have made any difference."

"We don't know that! Because I was so happy and so fucking selfish, she didn't matter! She never got my message and she went out there looking for me!"

"… Do you know that or are you just guessing?"

"I know, Brian! I know it like I know why Hobbs did it!"

I didn't want to know, but he didn't wait for me to ask.

"He did it because she's my friend! Because she's a fag-lover! Because you were right, I had to go and make myself a real enemy, and I made Daphne guilty by association!"

He finally stopped screaming. Shuddered a heavy breath and started speaking again, his voice worn.

"After I had sex with her, it was all over school. Chris came up to me and started making the usual fag/queer comments, but like ten times as bad. Like he thought I was trying to be straight and now I was the one who had no right. Daphne walked up and defended me, like always. Then he turned on her. Started saying if he was into charity work he'd fuck her to show her what a real man is like."

He smiled, remembering. It was a small smile, fractured with pain, but it was something.

"She said, 'Chris, I'd be honored for you to give it a try, but I don't think you'd be able to get it up without Justin's hand around your dick.'"

I smiled, too. I really did love that girl. I had the thought that she'd apparently done a good job of making Hobbs an enemy of her own, but I wisely kept it to myself.

"Chris's threats had been getting worse and worse, and I should have known they weren't just talk. School's ending, the year's almost over. I should have known he'd do something. But I'm the one he hates. It was supposed to be me. I know it was supposed to be me. If I'd stayed longer at the prom, if I hadn't left with you… he would have tried to kill me. I know it."

I don't know what hurt more… the thought of Justin dead, that fucking piece of shit Hobbs taking him away from me… or that it sounded like that was what Justin wished had happened.

"Come on." Having found the keys, I took his hand and led him out to the jeep, and we headed to the hospital in anguished silence.

xx

I found street parking. I didn't think a parking garage would be a good idea.

Justin was terrified to go in. We sat in the jeep and he begged me for hard drugs, which even if I'd had on me I wouldn't have given to him. I did pull a joint from my visor, and we shared it. Didn't help much, but at least we managed to go inside.

I just kept pulling him along, holding his hand, through the elevators and long hallways and blinding white and confusion, asking questions until we reached the ER and Daphne's private room. A man and woman I could only assume were her parents were walking out of it, looking… well, as bad as you'd expect. Daphne's mom saw Justin and her eyes flashed with fire and blame. His hand tightened on mine. Before Mrs. Chanders could say anything, Mr. Chanders put a calming hand on her arm, nodded grimly at Justin, and led his wife to a small row of chairs.

"Justin!"

His mom came hurrying up and hugged him, which he tolerated. She nodded awkwardly to me.

"Brian."

"Mrs. Taylor."

"Where's Molly?" Not that Justin didn't care about his little sister, but I knew he was asking the question mostly out of avoidance of that room.

"With your father. I borrowed his car… Honey, do you want to go in and see Daphne? She's asleep, but you can sit with her."

"I don't think Mrs. Chanders wants me in there."

"She's just upset… understandably so. But she knows how important you are to Daphne."

Justin looked up at me, his eyes asking, pleading for some kind of answers. I looked to Daphne's door, then back to him, and nodded. With a silent, You can do it.

"Okay."

His mom smiled, a slight twitch the only indication that my influence over Justin bothered her. I chose then to get out of the way.

"I'll wait, uh… over there." Pointed to some chairs way farther down.

"You really don't have to. I can take care of Justin." That was the politest "fuck off" I'd ever heard.

"I can take care of myself." Justin turned from his mother to me. "Brian… will you stay?"

I nodded again and walked to the chairs I'd pointed out, sitting down. I watched the Taylor conversation I could no longer hear continue for another minute or two. Jennifer shook her head a lot. Justin was stillness and strength, and he took that with him when he finally put one foot in front of the other, all the way into Daphne's room.

I sat and waited and thought. About Daphne and how fucking adorable she was. How I didn't really know her that well, but she was one of maybe two straight people in the world I gave a damn about (her and Cynthia... Debbie was such a would-be drag queen I hardly counted her as straight). How she had a smile not quite as bright as, but possibly even more contagious than Justin's. How much she'd been there for Justin, the past year that I'd seen and more than that before I'd only heard about. How much Justin loved her.

I wondered if Justin was right. I wondered if I hadn't shown up at the prom and stolen him away, if the circumstances would still have been there that allowed Daphne to be attacked. Or if maybe… Justin would have been the victim. If Hobbs really would have tried to kill him. If it was my big show, dancing with Justin, that finally put the fucker completely over the edge.

I wished I could remember if the drunken asshole I'd nearly swiped with my jeep on the way out the night before had been Hobbs. And I wished I could go back and run the motherfucker down.

But I really hate this introspection shit. Worse than old magazines for keeping yourself entertained. So I got up and found out a few things.

I started walking past the nurses' station, just to get my frustration out. But on the twentieth or so pace, I heard something interesting. One of the nurses was talking about Daphne. I heard her room number, then snippets and phrases like "poor thing" and "brave girl" and "fought back." But it was "did serious damage to the guy" that really got my attention.

"Are you talking about Chris Hobbs? Did Daphne hurt him? Please tell me she ripped his dick off."

"Sir, can I help you? I'm afraid I can't tell you anything about Miss Chanders if you're not family."

"I don't claim my family. I claim her. But I'm not asking about her case, about her medical records. I just want to know what happened to the son of a bitch that did this to her. Chris Hobbs."

The nurse looked away from me and started shuffling papers, ignoring me. But, before I could stalk off too pissed, she spoke as if just thinking of it.

"I believe there was a Christopher Hobbs brought in to the ER last night. He had lacerations of the face and a couple of broken ribs."

Good girl. Fight like hell. "What room is he in? Is he hooked up to anything I can unplug and strangle him with?"

The nurse didn't even try to look shocked. She smiled. "Mr. Hobbs isn't here anymore. The police took him away."

Don't tell me the police fucking did their jobs? I was doubtful of how long it would last. But I walked away slightly appeased, throwing a rare "Thanks" over my shoulder.

When I got back, I saw Jennifer gently leading the Chanders towards the lounge. To get some coffee, or just for a break. I took advantage of their absence and crept to Daphne's slightly open door. I leaned there and peered in. I could actually see her better than I could see Justin. Just beyond the blond hair and the hunched figure wearing my shirt, lay a petite figure covered with a blanket and an innocent face marred with bruises. Her lip was cut and puffy. Her hair, so meticulously straightened and pinned for the dance, was returning to its naturally wild state, and had been pulled into a ponytail to offer her that slightest piece of control.

My chest ached for her, and then I heard Justin. Crying. Sobbing. Apologizing fifty different ways. I still wanted to fix it for him, but I knew I couldn't fix this.

The longer he looked at her, the more he seemed to decide he needed to be strong for her. Though she was sleeping, he told her everything would be all right… someday. That she was the one who taught him how to be brave. That she was beautiful and it would all get better. He made himself stop crying.

And, as if awoken by the sudden absence of his tears, her eyes opened… one, slightly swollen, not quite all the way… and fixed on Justin.

"It wasn't your fault."

Four whispered words and she seemed to drift asleep again. I wondered how much they'd had to medicate her to calm her down.

I couldn't see Justin's face, but I could feel him about to break. I entered the room and stood beside the bed. He instantly buried his head in my side, and I brushed my fingers over his hair. I didn't know if I should touch Daphne, even if she was asleep, but I softly took her hand and kissed the back of it, then set it carefully back down. I put my arm around Justin's shoulders and lifted him up.

"Let's go home."

Home meaning my place, and I wasn't sure he'd go. But I knew he needed to, and there wasn't anything he could do for her, at least for the time being. We didn't stop to say goodbye to his mother. We just made our way back out through the stares and the blinding white and long hallways and elevators, him leaning against me the whole way, until we got to the jeep. I helped him in and then got in beside him, slamming my door.

It was like the slam was Justin's cue to break down. I thought I'd seen it already, but no. As the door closed, I watched him fucking shatter in front of me.

Just letting him cry so hard was like swallowing broken glass for me, but I needed to get us back to the loft. I told him to hold on and drove like a fucking bat out of hell, more so than I ever had before. We got there in record time… luckily without getting pulled over, 'cause I don't know what I would have done to the cop who dared stop us… and I practically carried him upstairs.

I got him to the bed and helped him fall onto it, stretching out beside him and wrapping my arms around him… so he couldn't fall anymore. I let him claw at my neck and scar me with his hot tears. I let him tremor and shake and cry out in something other than pleasure. I let him get it out.

I whispered little things to him, mindless little assurances. And I wondered how I had gotten here with this kid, this trick turned… I didn't know what, besides more. Justin was more. More than I'd bargained for, more than I'd wanted, more than I deserved. As much as I was physically sick over what happened to that sweet girl, part of me was just so fucking glad that psycho Hobbs hadn't gotten near Justin.

I worried that he would realize I could be as much to blame as he thought he was. Follow the fault line he'd drawn from himself to me. Deem me guilty by association and want away from me. I held him tighter.

I needed to get drunk.

I know he doesn't believe Daphne… that it wasn't his fault. The guilt hangs all over him, and I can't even tell him not to feel it. Because I know, if it were me, and Justin had been hurt, I'd feel the same damn way.