Shattered: A Pre-Post Mortem Faerytale

PART 3

Justin’s car was brittle. Brittle as webbed glass, brittle as old plastic, brittle as a mask over pain. The glittering diamond windows were cracked around the edges from the constantly blaring rock and roll, Tool and Led Zeppelin and Cradle of Filth slowly crumbling the brittle slow-motion liquid sand; the old but expensive leather of the seats was brittle and splitting open like cockroach skins from age and dryness and heat damage, the blood red paint on the frame of the car was cracked and chipped. The brittle silence could’ve been broken by any number of Brandon’s stone-heavy tear drops as he resolutely stared out the window and they rolled down his cheeks to splash onto his pant legs.

“What’s a matter, Baby?” Justin asked softly, driving through the sheeting rain. It’d been a rainy day like this one that Sara had been killed, along with so many other girls on their way to band practice last Saturday. Black Saturday. Black fucking Saturday, when the world had stopped spinning and life and crashed to a screeching halt.

“Nothing,” Brandon snarled, his heart shriveling in his chest like salted snails, and he shoved his thumb deeper into his mouth, chewing furiously. Already, it was starting to ache, and he could taste raw flesh and blood, soothing, like the balm of Gilead on his tongue.

Nothing happened for the longest time. Seconds crawled by on the backs of flesh eating worms and maggots, the silence decaying like a corpse until finally Justin asked, his voice brittle with fear, “Are you freaked that I kissed you last night?”

Brandon unconsciously licked his plump lips, and felt his cock harden in his washed out Levis. No, “freaked” was not the word for how Justin’s kiss had made him feel, how those soft sweet lips moving wildly and desperately over his, tasting him, had made him feel. It’s how he should have felt- what sane and normal boy made out with his brother?- but it wasn’t. He shook his head.

Justin asked, “Then what? What can I do to make it better?”

“Nothing,” Brandon snapped, suddenly furious with the entire world, and bit down hard on his thumb, so that blood gushed into his mouth. The throbbing hurt took his mind of the sight of Sara’s corpse in his brother’s arms, lying in his driveway, that same corpse that had made such gorgeous and tender love to him not even a week before, while his brother had watched with burning eyes and hungered for what Brandon was finally getting. He’d finally been allowed to be with her… to love her the way Justin did… such a beautiful love… snatched from him by fate. By destiny. Fuck it all.

“Brandon….” Justin whispered, his voice sounding hurt, and looked out the window for a moment before he spun the wheel and pulled over onto the side of the road. The younger Peters felt his spine rattle and his brain slosh as car horns honked and the world spun. “Brandon. Talk to me. Now.”

“Fuck off, Peters, you faggot,” Brandon whispered, hoping to relish the sting and bite of those words, but all he felt was an empty, hollow guilt, an echoing pain. This fucking sucked. He wanted Justin to hurt, to agonize the way Brandon had in the shower this morning, to need so much that even your own right hand couldn’t satisfy you, only the person you were dreaming of writhing beneath you, letting you love them.

Justin snapped open his seatbelt, turned sideways, slid across the bench seats, and grabbed Brandon by the hair, forcing his head back. The desire to see Justin in tears rose up strong.

“The fuck are you doing, dick breath?!”

“Don’t ever talk to me like that. Don’t do it. I won’t stand for it. You’ll fucking walk to school, Brandon.”

“Let go of me, fuckwad!” Brandon yelled, and Justin let him go so quickly Brandon fell back against the seats. “What the shit, man? What was that?”

“You will NOT talk to me that way, Brandon Peters. You didn’t speak to me that way before Sara… before she died, and you won’t do it to me now. Do you understand?”

“Oh, I fucking understand, you fucking shit. You think you’re so fucking perfect because you were banging Brit every chance you had, but I fucking loved her, man, I fucking-” Brandon was sobbing now, crying viciously, swiping at the tears with one chubby fist and glaring at Justin and burning with hurt and grief and so many strange feelings. “I fucking was going to marry her, you fucking fucked up fucktard! She was mine, I loved her, I can’t live without her, and you, you just fucking-“

Justin slapped Brandon hard across the face, so hard that Brandon’s cheek was blood red and so was Justin’s palm, so hard that his hand burned and Brandon’s cheek screamed hot pain, and Brandon got very quiet.

“I loved her, too, Brandon,” Justin said oh so softly. “I loved her just as much as you did, and I miss her just as much as you do. You think I don’t cry at night because she’s gone? You think I don’t want to just lock myself up in the bathroom and slit my wrists and bleed out so I can be with her again? Then you haven’t been listening very hard. You’re not the only one she left behind, Brandon. She left us both. She ripped out both our hearts. Never forget that.”

Brandon began sobbing in earnest now, nearly choking on the great, whooping sobs that ripped out of his throat. “I d-don’t know what t-t-t-to do, J-Justin, I d-d-don’t know what t-to d-d-d-do! I n-need h-h-her. I need her! I n-n-need y-you!” Brandon cried. “I’m s-s-sorry! I’m s-so s-s-sorry, Justin! Please, f-forgive m-me!!”

Justin carefully pulled Brandon close to him, sliding his hand up his brother’s back and around his neck to gently cup his face, forcing the younger boy to look him in the eye. Brandon didn’t want to- he was sure he had snot dripping down his face and his cheek was still livid from Justin’s slap, and he didn’t want to see the unrelenting fury in his brother’s eyes- but when he looked up into those gorgeous hazel eyes, Justin was smiling softly, sadly, lovingly, and Brandon felt new tears roll down his cheeks.

“I’m here, Brandon,” Justin whispered, resting his forehead against Brandon’s. There were matching tears on Justin’s face. Somehow, that made the other boy feel a little better. “I’ll always be here.”

And Justin found Brandon’s mouth with his own, gentle and giving. His tongue came out to touch the sweet, lush lips, silently begging entrance. Brandon moaned softly and opened his mouth, letting Justin inside, and his big brother made him a silent, ever-burning promise with the fire of his kisses, his tongue thrusting into Brandon’s mouth and stroking and exploring, his hands clutching Brandon against him so that the soft, timid hands slid up into Justin’s hair and the fingers tangled in it, crushing the sweet, familiar mouth to Brandon’s own.

Their lungs ached and burned for air, but they couldn’t seem to stop drinking down each other’s passion and tears. Finally Brandon tore his mouth away, his lips tingling, and cried, “Justin! Justin, I need, I can’t, I miss her, I need to-”

“Shhhh,” Justin whispered against his brother’s mouth, and captured it in another hot, searing kiss. “I know.” Somehow, Brandon ended up pinned beneath the hot, hard heat of his brother, moving restlessly against him, whimpering. When Justin knew he would either have to stop or go too far- but oh that sweet slide into too far would be bliss- he broke away from Brandon and said, caressing Brandon’s cheek. “I know, Brandon. I know.”