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A Questionable Excuse

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This was something that he couldn't explain. He was stuck in a world too, but this was not a happy one. He no longer cared much for the pressure below his waist. It was not his main concern. His main concern was the pain that he felt in his head. A pounding. A pounding telling him that this was not right. It wasn't right at all. The teen curled up his legs to his chest, closing his eyes. "I-..."

He felt selfish. But he couldn't do this. Not like this. "No! Dylan, don't!" He stood up and moved away from the bed. "Don't touch me...." He kept his hands to his face, not wanting to even look around. This was shaming to him. He couldn't face what he'd done. Even though he hadn't finished the deed. It was turning into a bad trip. A very bad trip. "Just..." He moved towards the bathroom, gripping the counter tightly. A grip surprisingly tight for someone of his stature and lack of muscle.
 
When Julian looked at him like that, or refused to look at him, Dylan snapped. Instead of a happy, calm high, he had the worst kind of high one could experience. He could do anything, and there would be no consequence. After all, that kind of logic wasn’t too far off. If he felt so disconnected from the real
world, how could he actually affect the real world? And better yet, how could it affect him?

This high was influenced by the rage that the older boy felt as well. How the fuck could Julian treat him like this? He’d been having fun! He really did see what had been happening as fun. And His boyfriend was having fun as well. They had been fine. Then the little bastard had decided that he wasn’t worth it? Was it because of that fact that he was rotten? Used? Spoiled goods? Less of a man because he’d been raped like a fucking woman? Rage filled his eyes and his breath sped up. He would show Julian that he was still a man.

Barging into the bathroom, Dylan grabbed the younger boy by the arm and pulled him up off the ground in an almost herculean effort. “How dare you?” he yelled, throwing him against the wall and slamming his head into the tile wall. His hand formed into a fist and he brought his knuckles down of Julian’s nose, watching with pleasure as he bled. “I’m not dirty and I’m not a sissy, and I don’t need this!” His words didn’t even make sense to him, but it did make sense when he completely beat the shit out of Julian. Punches were landing all over the smaller boy’s body, he was kicking hard enough to break bones and the words out of his mouth sounded more like pained screams. “You lied,” he yelled as his foot hit the side of Julian’s head. “You said you loved me!”
 
Julian had expected Dylan to be upset, but not this upset. Not to the point that more violence would come upon him. They had just made up. And now this was going to begin again? He would never realize that this was a deadly cycle he had engaged himself in. If anything, he thought that Dylan would be upset and ignore him. Or cry. Do something sad and emotional. But not get enraged to this point. He turned when he saw that the other stepped into the bathroom.

But before he could react he was thrown against the wall. Fuck. It made him dizzy and the whole room spin. But then there were more hits. In the blur, this felt more natural. He could deal with this. The physical pain. But the pain he felt in his heart for Dylan was unbelievable. At least this could cover it up for the time being. With the hit to his nose the boy began bleeding, a steady stream flowing down his lips and chin. He had bags under his eyes, probably from the pill, but a hit to his brow and he had a black bag under his eye, swollen. "Dylan! I didn't..." But words wouldn't come. Not easily after each blow.

And only more would come. Probably the worst he'd ever had. Julian was shaking, his jaw chattering as he let out pained noises, but tried to hold them in as best he could. With the kick to his head he was out like a light. But his nose still bled. Bruises were starting to form on his body. Big black ones. Terrible looking ones. But later he'd look on them with value. It was what he deserved. He'd been terrible to Dylan. And so the cycle began again.
 
Even as he was hitting Julian, Dylan felt as if a weight was being physically lifted off of his shoulders. The more he hit the other, the more he was able to convince himself that he was beating his stepfather. And he wouldn’t stop until he was dead. In other words, he was fairly sure that he was going to kill the boy that he loved. And so, when Julian passed out, it was the best thing he could have done. It saved him from the abuse that Dylan was inflicting, and it may have saved his life.

After the other had lost consciousness, he kicked him one last time, stopping in horror when his foot connected with the other boy’s wrist. It wasn’t that fact that he could now see his handiwork. It wasn’t even the fact that he’d heard a sharp snap when his kick had landed. Though Julian looked horrible; his body bruised beyond belief and his face almost as bad, with huge black welts covering his torso and now the side of his face (creeping dangerously into his hairline, a sure sign that he was loosing too much blood internally for someone his size), Dylan didn’t care in the least. He just knew that he was even filthier now.

He turned on the shower, the water hot enough to burn him and, without bothering to remove the unconscious boy from his floor, he stripped down and got in. Yea, it hurt at first. Angry red spots appeared on his skin and they hid the fact that he was crying. When he got out, he was red as a lobster, but he still felt filthy. His skin still had a thick layer of ‘faggot’ on it, and he was sure that he smelled like a homo. Still completely naked, he sank to the floor next to Julian. They deserved to be together, two completely useless pieces of trash.
 
Just as Dylan was sure he would kill him, Julian was sure that he would die. He was ready to even, ready to go at the cost of Dylan. Dylan deserved to take life from him. Julian had been a leech. He'd been terrible to Dylan. He only deserved to have his life taken by the other. At least then he'd have some kind of payment for everything bad Julian had done. If only he could tell Dylan what he was thinking. If he could, maybe his boyfriend wouldn't feel terrible about this when he was done. Maybe he would be okay with it, feel at peace. He hoped that Dylan killed his stepfather there that night.

But when he woke up he was still on the floor. There was a puddle of blood around him, definitely his own. The boy licked at his lip, which was now swollen and bloodied on one side. He went to push himself up with his hands, but a loud groan left his lips. Fuck that hurt. His wrist was broken. There was not even a question about it. It was bruised and purple. He didn't even speak, but pulled himself up to the toilet and puked. It was a wrenching action. His body trying to rid itself of spending extra energy digesting food. As if there was any there.

He pulled himself up enough to wash his face and wipe his hands. The boy looked over to Dylan, then slid down the counter. He looked pathetic like that, his lip still bloody, and some blood still under his nose and down his chin. But somehow, when he'd seen himself in the mirror, it was a little erotic. Dylan had done this to him.
 
After a bit of time, Dylan fell asleep. He tried his best not to, but his eyes got too heavy to keep open and his mind was full of the most horrible type of fog. So when it ended, he hoped that it would be for forever. Maybe one day he could die like this. There were probably ways to do it to. A plastic shopping bag and a lot off pills. A gun. A rope and a sturdy beam. He was actually planning his suicide. This time, no one would stop him. He’d be strong enough to do it himself. He just hoped that Julian wouldn’t follow him. And he hoped that he wasn’t going to hell.

After all, didn’t people like him do that; burn in hell forever? He would certainly deserve it, especially with what he was thinking. He hoped that Julian wouldn’t follow him, but bringing him along didn’t seem like a bad idea at all. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to resort to that anytime soon. The two would have time together first. The older, larger boy woke up only minutes after he’d dozed off. And he woke up only moments after Julian himself had. “”Jules?” he asked groggily pushing himself up. He looked over at Julian and winced though. God, he’d done that? He really did deserve hell. He showed no sign of regret though, and looked at the other with no more pity, fear, or even acknowledgment that last night had even happed. “Could you make me something to eat?”
 
Julian couldn't even get up. How was he supposed to make something to eat? He was glad that Dylan did not acknowledge the beating. He didn't want it to come up. Not yet. He knew that Dylan would probably cry and apologize. At this point he didn't want that. He just wanted to forget it. How he could do that...? Fuck. He didn't know. But he was glad that Dylan was out of that cloud and knew that he was no longer stuck with his stepfather. The boy tried to pull himself up again, managing to lean on the counter. "I-I don't know if I can..." He murmured, looking down at Dylan.

He was bruised all over. His knees, his right cheek, his torso. "I don't know if I can right now Dylan.." He swallowed, resisting the urge to puke. He felt dizzy, really. Sick. Like he should probably sleep a little more. "I'm sorry... But maybe..." He leaned weakly against the counter, swaying a little. "Maybe I can get you some water...?"
 
Dylan cursed quietly under his breath and stormed back into his bedroom. He said something like ‘lazy,’ but it wasn’t easy to hear. In fact, it sounded more like incoherent muttering the words at all. He wasn’t really angry at Julian. He was angry, and confused, and hurt in general. And though it was sick, he was getting sort of turned on by watching the other boy suffer. “At least get me water from the kitchen, or are you too lazy to do that too?” He called, rolling his eyes. He’d been hurt plenty before, and he was never lazy enough to ignore the ones he was close to.

He layed back on his bed and pinched his temples, warding off a headache. He’d never ordered Julian around so much after a fight. He was usually at least there to help him clean up a bit. Now he was perfectly willing to leave that up to Julian. He didn’t even care that there was still another glass of water sitting on the bedside drawer. “Then just leave me alone,” he added as an afterthought.
 
Usually these things played themselves out. They'd fight, Dylan wouldn't be angry anymore, Julian would be too tired and hurt to be upset about anything... But today seemed to be a different story. And Julian really didn't like how it was turning now. The boy swayed a little more. He'd be lucky if he could make it to the bed like this, let alone go to the kitchen and get Dylan a glass of water. Honestly, Julian could use one himself. He was probably dehydrated, with the amount of blood that he'd lost. Any blood was probably too much to lose for the smaller boy. His fingers on his good hand squeezed the counter tightly before he stepped out into Dylan's room. There was an obvious limp.

But on the way in it was obvious that he was holding something in his hand. Ibuprofen. He set it on the side table for Dylan and then slowly lowered himself onto the bed. This was the worst beating he'd gotten by far. It hurt to move. Everything hurt. Even his head, with a dull, achey pounding.
 
As Julian lowered himself into the bed, Dylan shoved him off. He didn’t care that the other boy was bloody and bruised, or that he could have killed him less than an hour ago. Julian had deserved it. He’d crawled into the older boy’s bed and taken advantage of him… right after the most emotional moment in his life. Julian was probably Dylan’s least favorite person right now. It didn’t matter that Dylan had pretty much forced himself on the other, only that it had happened in the first place.

“What are you doing?” He asked sharply. “I never invited you to sleep here.” He didn’t even make sure that the other boy was okay after the fall. He instead got up off the bed and pulled Julian up. He dragged the other towards the apartment door, opened it and pulled him outside before shoving him to the ground. “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore Julian. Now get away from my apartment.” It was the middle of November in the middle of the night and it must have been below freezing, but Dylan really didn’t give a fuck. He turned around, walked inside, and slammed the door, locking it behind him.
 
Julian was not expecting such harsh treatment, although he probably should have. If anything he deserved it. Dylan had perfect reasoning for him not wanting Julian around. Julian was useless, and he'd taken advantage of his boyfriend at his weakest moment. The shove to the ground made him groan. It hit a bruise that was raw red and purple. But then Dylan picked him up again. He was ready for it. He was ready for the end. Instead he was shoved out the door, in a tanktop and boxer shorts. No pants. Not even shoes. So he did the only logical thing he cold do.

He started walking. And he walked all the way to Connor's. In the middle of the night. He stood in the doorway of the nice house, pondering whether he should knock. If he brought Connor into this...He shouldn't. But he couldn't go home. His parents would tell him this was what he deserved, being a fag. The boy swallowed and rang the doorbell. His knees shook, and he had to hold himself up in the doorway as best he could. He was cold. So fucking cold. He might die here. In front of Connor's house. How lovely that might have been, in this nice garden. The boy looked down at his hands. His face was still crusted with blood, bags under his eyes. If Connor threw the door closed on his face, he knew why.
 
Ana O’Brian was the one who opened the door that night. Her son was sleeping, her husband wasn’t home this week, and she had just been getting ready for bed. So when she heard the doorbell ring, her heart stopped for a moment. The only people who rang the doorbell at midnight were either serial killers, or people with flat tires. Or all of the above. Yet for some reason, she cracked the door open anyway. She wasn’t an intimidating woman. She was 5’4 with the figure of a human sized lawn gnome. The rest of her was pretty much a female version of Connor; short red hair (though hers was streaked with grey), vibrant green eyes, and freckles everywhere. However, she was much more perceptive then her son, and seeing this boy on her doorstep made her all but melt.

Her jaw dropped and she stood there, completely dumbfounded. What was one to do when a bloody, malnourished kid showed up at their house? There were certainly no parenting booklets for this.
 
For some reason Julian was not expecting this little woman to open the door. He'd expected Connor. Seeing her only arose a terror in him. He was disrupting this family. This was not like Dylan where he could show up any time. The boy breathed out, it left a trail of cold in the air. He instantly looked to the ground, ashamed that this was how he had to meet Connor's mother. "I-" He spoke u, surprised the words even came.

"Is Connor here?" It was an attempt to bite back a sob. He was leaning on the wall, and he slipped down a little at the question. He could hardly hold himself up anymore. Julian just wanted to sleep... Sleep sounded wonderful. He closed hiseyes, slipping down a little more.
 
Normally, If someone had come to her house, asking for her son in the middle of the night, Ana would have slammed the door and not regretted it for a second. Connor was her baby and she wasn’t going to have anyone hurting him. However, when she was in her bathrobe, and this boy was wearing nothing but… well, hardly anything, she felt bad turning him away. He must have been freezing. Plus he was so skinny! It make her want to usher him into the house and feed him.

So, she did the first part without any hesitation at all. She didn’t rush to invite him in, still dumbfounded by the fact that he was there in the first place. However, her eyes did soften quite a bit, and she stepped away from the door. “I don’t think I should wake up Connor, but why don’t you come in?” She asked softly. Her voice held just a bit of an Irish accent, making it clear as to where she and her son had gotten their looks. She was hoping that he could come in on his own. She was hesitant to touch him. It was dark out, and she still hadn’t seen the extent of his injuries, but she didn’t want to scare such a fragile looking kid with physical contact.
 
Julian seemed hesitant to even get close to the small woman. She seemed so kind. What right did he have coming here in the middle of the night? He slowly pulled himself up, limping past her. It was obvious he was in pain. And psychologically he wasn't sure if he could deal with this. "I'm... I'm sorry to bother you..." Maybe it was better that Connor hadn't woken up.

"I'm really sorry.." He seemed on the verge of tears, standing there slouching. "I just... I didn't know where to go."
 
“No, you aren’t bothering me at all!” She walked back down the hallway slowly, gesturing for Julian to follow her. She was careful to keep an eye on him, in case he was to collapse spontaneously. He looked only seconds away from that. She tried not to show her alarm in seeing his state, but couldn’t help but have it show through a little bit. As a mother, she hated to see anyone this young in any sort of pain. And it looked like this boy, who she really only could think of as thirteen or fourteen, was in more pain then she was used to seeing anyone in.

“I was actually going to go make myself something hot to drink. And I’m getting you one too whether you like it or not… you never did tell me your name," She said, her tone becoming more motherly almost instantly. "Now sit down.” She entered the living room and nodded her head towards the two leather recliners and the couch. The fireplace was roaring and that made this one of the warmest rooms in the house. “And while we drink, you will tell me exactly what happened to you. And then, I’ll think about waking Connor up.” She ended her rather demanding tirade and walked into the kitchen, filling up two mugs and heating the water up in the microwave oven, the only oven she was good at using.
 
Julian had trouble believing the woman when she said that he wasn't bothering her. Having someone this beat up and broken looking on their doorstep would make anyone feel a little bothered. And he saw it in her eyes. They were pretty eyes. Kind. They reminded him of Connor's. "Thank you..." He stepped in and followed her up the hallway. It must have been a disturbing sight. Julian was so thin, and the bruises really didn't help with his appearance. When he stepped into the house she'd see the true damage that had been done to him. Bruises on his hips, his thighs, ankles, knees. And one blooming on his face, right above his right eye. His nose thankfully wasn't broken, and wasn't too swollen either. But there was still some blood around it.

When she told him to sit down he did so without hesitation. It had taken all of his strength to keep from just sliding down one of the walls in the hallway. This recliner was the best. He felt like he could sink into it and forget all of his thoughts and his worries. As well as all the bruises. But he sat on it gingerly, as if he were afraid he might get it dirty. "I'm afraid I'll... I'll get it dirty." He answered as she walked away. The boy bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back tears. There couldn't be much room for lying now, unless he came up with the same one he'd done before. Which he could craft for this situation. It would work. He didn't have his wallet or anything. Someone could have easily jumped him.

"Well I... I was at my friends house. He lives in a kind of bad neighborhood." Julian looked up at her. He felt terrible lying, but the words kept slipping from his lips. They were even believable. "And I started walking home. Some guys walked up behind me and took my stuff. My pants and shoes too, and my jacket." He sat back a little, resigning himself to getting the couch dirty. It was too comfortable to pass up. "And when they realized I didn't have any money... They beat me." He teared up at the last few words, making it even more incredibly believable.
 
Something seemed off. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed so afraid; like he expected her to cast him out in the cold any minute. Or maybe it was the obvious fact that his bruises were from different periods of time. The one on his hip, peeking out from the area between his top and pants, on top of his painfully prominent hip bones. That was it too. This kid was so skinny that it hurt her to look at him. If she’d known how to cook, she would have made him something more than hot chocolate.

Coming back out with the two cups of hot cocoa, Ana handed one to Julian and sat on the recliner opposite of him. She didn’t really buy his story, but she knew that he wouldn’t respond well to her calling him a liar. No one really did. She was a doctor, and her patients always insisted on sticking to their lies. Whether it was something as small as why they’d gained 30 pounds in a year or something as large as how that bruise had appeared on their kid’s face.

“So,” she began, leaning forwards, her elbows resting on her knees “Were you mugged last time too?” She eyed the bruise on his hip with suspicion, taking a small sip of the cocoa. “And why didn’t you go home?” She paused, looking into her cup. She lowered her voice and dropped the front. Now she was just any other concerned mom. “I don’t know who you are, but I have to call the cops, and I really have to call your parents.”
 
Julian thought that she would believe it. People always believed him. He was too sweet, how could he possibly lie about anything? The boy shifted in his seat under that look though. That was a knowing look. A look that said she had genuine concern, but that she knew just what was happening. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He had been caught in his own lie. By a woman that he didn't even know.

Connor's mother. What a great first impression. Coming to his house beat up. Lying. Wonderful. The boy shifted in his seat again, looking extremely uncomfortable. How could he make this better now? Well, he probably couldn't. There was no taking back his lie. He'd have to live with it. He sipped slowly at it, but set the mug back into his lap. It burnt his skin to hold it, but he did anyway. The pain reminded him that this situation was very, very real.

"I-" His eyes widened and it almost seemed like he was getting up for a moment, before he groaned and looked down to the ground. Humiliating. This was humiliating. At least she wasn't... Well fuck. She was. She was going to call the cops. And his parents. "No, no please!" He practically pleaded, leaning forward. "Please don't." He lowered his voice. "You can't... I mean, I'm telling the truth I just..." He broke then. The tears came easier than he expected. He placed the cocoa down on the table and covered his face, shameful. "My parents... They'd say I deserved it. They wouldn't care...." He looked up to her with tear filled eyes. "You can't... Please. My boyfriend he'll... He'll hate me. I just- He'll hurt himself if anyone finds out, I know he will. Just please. I won't speak to him again. He won't try and find me. I went there. We were broken up and I made him angry. He didn't even want me there to begin with."
 
She had no idea how to handle this. It was so much easier when there was protocol; when she could just call someone and they would come and take care of it. But when something like this happened, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She didn’t know if other parents would call the police, or try and deal with it themselves.

But really, she’d never liked the police very much. She listened to his panic-filled explanation and found herself even more confused. She stood up and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. God he was cold. “Hey,” she whispered, trying to calm him down “It’s okay. I won’t call anyone, I promise.” She knew it was a bad decision, but it was as if her heard had broken at his words. “How about you tell me what happened again. And tell me the truth this time.” She looked over his body again, flinching internally at every bone. It was a shock to her that he could stomach full-fat cocoa. “Do you still want me to get Conner?”
 
Julian was silently sobbing by the end of it. His panic had worn off a little and instead he just shook there, his eyes closed until she spoke up again. He looked to her with eyes full of tears and nodded his head. Thank god she wasn't going to call anyone. It might be the end of him if she did... Dylan would hate him and his parents... Well he didn't want to get started with what they might do. "Oh-okay..." He nodded again, leaning a little into her touch to his shoulder. Having somebody touch him was solidifying. It reminded him that not every touch was a painful one.

"I just... We broke up and I went over there. He was drunk, and he got upset with me for being there." He answered. It really was the truth. Well, part of it. The details really didn't matter all that much, except for Julian's psyche. "I-You can get him if you like... I don't want him to get woken up." He looked to the glass of cocoa, which he hadn't even come close to finishing. He contemplated taking another sip, but decided against it.
 
Ana nodded and moved away, knowing that there was more to the truth, but not pressing any further. It was obvious that this boy wasn’t going to hurt her son in any way. She didn’t even think he had the mobility to walk up the stairs. If anything, she would have to take a look at him later, especially that wrist, the one that was now purple and swollen. She headed up the stairs, keeping a close eye on Julian with every step. She was still sure that he was going to keel over at any minute. If one thing was sure, she wasn’t leaving him alone without Connor.

Opening the bedroom door gingerly, she flipped the light switch, causing Connor to wake up instantly.
He looked towards the door with obvious annoyance and then at his alarm clock. 12:53 AM. It was past midnight and he was being woken up. Either the house was on fire, or something important was going on. “What the hell?” He asked groggily, earning him a stern look.

She couldn’t help but smile, despite the circumstance. Her son was okay. It wasn’t her son she had to worry about. “Someone’s here for you,” she said quickly, knowing how odd it sounded. He got up with more confusion and less words then she’d expected and when he walked down the stairs and found Julian in his living room, his entire face paled. “What the fuck happened to you?”
 
Julian was glad that she had left for a moment. He could have a moment to himself. Compose himself. Get himself ready for Connor to come down at take a look at him. He regretted not cleaning himself up a little before she went to get him. This was embarrassing. He probably looked terrible. Ugly even. Well, that second was always the case.

When Connor walked back the boy bit his lip and raised his eyebrows in an upset way, letting out a little laugh. He kept his wrist on his lap and looked down to it. Now he was shameful. The boy let out another little nervous laugh and looked away, not wanting to make eye contact with the other. He didn't want to speak. Instead his unharmed hand rose and gently touched the side of Connor's.

Really all he wanted was to cease to exist. But now that he'd gotten the attention of someone he was mildly interested in... He wanted to cease to exist even more. It was a joke, being like this in front of Connor. He was a joke. How could he even hope to be this smart, handsome boy's friend after this?
 
“What happened to you?” Connor was obviously upset. His mouth was set in a hard, almost angry line and he was looking over the other furiously. He’d rushed over to Julian and took hold of his hand. “Was it someone from school?” He asked quickly, biting his lip. “I’ll…” he looked over at his mom and shut his mouth quickly. “Mom, Julian can sleep over, right?” He looked from Julian to his mother; eyes large and pleading. “We’ll sleep down here of course,” he added, meaning for it to be a quick reassurance that they didn’t plan on doing anything deviant together, but then he realized the truth in his words. Julian was in no shape to be climbing stairs. He doubted that the other boy could even move to the couch without pain. At this realization, he instinctively moved closer, his hand finding the other’s upper arm and resting their protectively.

Ana gave Julian a small smile, uncomfortable with talking about him when he was in the room like this. “Of course he can,” she said quietly. Really, she was a strong woman at heart but this whole situation had her on edge. However, that didn’t mean she was going to be any less civil to the smaller boy. Her son seemed especially fond of him so she would be too. “And,” she lowered her voice, “I’m not going to call the police. But tomorrow, you’re coming down to my office with me and we’re getting you taken care of, okay?”
 
The eyes that he looked at Connor with were kind. How had he even come here? What inspired him to show up here, of all places? He wanted Connor to think he was strong, cute, smart, funny... All the things he wasn't. This was just proving that he wasn't any of those things. This just showed that he was stupid and that he really didn't even deserve to be here. Who was he kidding? But the look that Connor gave him was not one of pity. Instead, it was anger. Anger directed at someone else. Not Julian. This surprised him. A little smile curled up on his lips at mention of him staying the night. He really didn't have to do that... But then again, he wasn't sure where he could go.

He felt disgusting sitting there. Connor could see all of him exposed. Like a raw bruise. Actually, like several raw bruises. "I-" He looked to the woman. One of the nicest that he'd ever met, for sure. "Thank you..." He managed a smile, though his cheeks were tear stained and there was still blood on his swollen lip and nose. He squeezed Connor's hand lightly, in an affectionate way. "I'm fine with that." He answered her with another little smile. "But I think... I think I should shower." How he'd do that, he wasn't entirely sure. Julian wasn't sure if he could hold himself up long enough. "Or take a bath. Something. I feel really dirty." The last words were almost choked out. It was clear that he felt vulnerable.
 
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