A Questionable Excuse

Julian could feel the same terror as Dylan, but it was a different kind. It was something he hadn't been exposed to before. Something foreign and completely intimate at the same time. Because he felt as though that terror had been there his entire life. It had been there since he was born, and it would be there until he died. And there would be absolutely no escaping it. This terror was something that Dylan had introduced him to, with this drug. But it was also something that only Dylan could hide him from. To keep him from being sucked into those depths, so far away from himself.

"Yes..." Julian really was cold, his poor thin skin and bones exposed. They did nothing to help him keep warm. The boy licked his bottom lip and glanced back to Dylan. "I-" He paused, trying to understand this statement. "I would like that." He answered softly, worrying that bottom lip of his. The bruises were almost fully formed now, and the pain he felt from them was almost... Enjoyable. The pain and the pleasure were beginning to blend together. "I would love to be warmer..."

Dylan’s warm body pressed tightly against Julian’s cold one. The contrast was incredible, yet it did something to ground Dylan; make him feel more at one with his body. His arms wrapped tightly around the other boy, his warm breath travelled down his spine, his hands intertwined on Julian’s stomach. They were the same person now; there was no separating the two. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, sliding slowly into Julian. It was hard at first, with nothing to help the two along, but once he was completely inside of the younger boy, a loud moan escaped through his lips. Pure ecstasy coursed through his veins. This must have been the best feeling in the world and he had been missing out on it his whole life. It wasn’t fair.

“Julian…” He groaned, moving slowly while slowly stroking the other boy. The two were together in a way that seemed impossible. He couldn’t help but wonder if both of them shared the same sensations. “I-” His nails dug into the other’s stomach as another wave of pleasure swept through him. “You are so…” He lost his train of thought, only knowing that he was going to say something good.

Julian could hardly retain heat. It was one of the reasons that he layered so much, which was frustrating when Dylan wanted to have sex on the spot. Especially if they were drunk. Even in summer sometimes Julian would wear layers, because his body just couldn't take the temperature. The boy loved being so close to Dylan though. It was a warmth that no blanket, hot shower, or heater could bring. It warmed him from the inside out. The boy swallowed at the statement about his beauty. This was a mixed bag, the way he felt about it. He felt as if he truly was, because he trusted Dylan. But another part of him told him he could be better. Skinnier. Prettier. Anything to make him something that he wasn't. Something more beautiful.

The boy tried to keep his sounds to himself. But he just couldn't hide the little whimpers and noises that slipped from his lips. He would have suggested lube, but Dylan was already on it. He didn't give him a chance. The pain was distracting at first, but then it just faded into everything else. Pain and pleasure were the same thing.

While Julian was feeling pleasure, he was also feeling doubts. Not the kind he normally did. These were more muted whispers than normal, but they were still there. Maybe he hadn't had enough... Or maybe he should have had a little more to drink. He was so... He was so what? What was Dylan going to say? "Mmn..." He purred, trying to distract himself from it for the moment with the noise. Like a mantra. He tightened around Dylan. It was different, being fucked like this. Dylan's attitude was a little different too. It was almost like they were making love, which wasn't always the case.

Dylan knew that Julian had a problem the same way Julian knew that Dylan had one. He knew that nobody should be as thin as this. He knew that even boys had this type of problem. He knew the statistics from endless years of health classes and pamplets in the doctor’s office. And he really did care. The problem was; he didn’t want to face the truth. It was better to tell himself that everything would be okay. It was easier to assume that Julian simply had a fast metabolism. It was easy in the same way that it was easy to lie to himself. He’s been drinking since thirteen, heavily since sixteen, and the drugs had started only months afterwards. For three years he hadn’t gone more then a few days without a bit of chemical help. He could stop anytime though. He simply… chose not to.

Now he thought about none of that. He thought about nothing but the sounds that came from Julian’s mouth, the sensation coursing through his body, and the dream-like state that his body was in. This was a lot of heaven and a little bit of hell mixed into one, amazing experience. And it was only hell because it would end.

He tried his hardest to make it last as long as possible, slowing down his movements whenever he could. However, as he got closer to coming, he couldn’t help but go faster. With each thrust also came a sense of coming down from the high. He should have known that he was simply plateauing, but the strong urge for the same euphoric feeling as before hit him at the same time as his peak. “Julian…” He moaned softly, his body stiffening as he came.

Julian knew that Dylan wanted to help him, but really didn't know how. Maybe that was why Julian had stuck around Dylan for so long. He really didn't want any help. He just wanted someone to help perpetuate his addiction. His addiction to vanity, even beyond the point of being vain. To the point that it was an obsession that he only grow progressively thinner. But Dylan never really spoke out about it. He'd only ignore it, or try to lighten Julian's mood by telling him that he was beautiful. But that only kept Julian afloat for so long.

The boy never spoke out about Dylan's problem because he knew it would only bring out anger and denial. And when Dylan was angry Julian didn't get the best of treatment. It was his own fault, anyway. For bringing it up. Dylan was just frustrated with it.

It wasn't long after Dylan that he came, his cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded. "Dylan..." He gasped out airily, it was almost melodic. A soft pleased sound. He was not feeling that coming down yet, but soon after he lay there for a few moments he felt it. And it was one of the most deep, empty feelings he thought he could ever have. "Dylan." He swallowed and slowly pulled away from his boyfriend. It would have been better to ask first. After only a second he turned to face the other. "Dylan I love you..." His fingers wrapped around the other's muscular shoulders, pulling himself close. It was desperate almost. A plea for Dylan to never leave him.

Dylan didn’t return the gesture immediately. Instead, he sat there for a few moments, fighting the urge to just break into pieces. It was easy to forget why he didn’t do this shit often. After all, the initial effects were so amazing and pure. But the plateau… if anyone thought that was awful, coming down was even worse. Luckily the two were still hours away from that stage.

Finally, Dylan looked at Julian. He didn’t just look, he really looked. The vulnerable, almost frightened look in the other boy’s eyes softened him to a point where he was practically liquid. “I love you too,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around Julian and pulling him closer. “I’ll always love you, okay?” He brought his lips to his boyfriend’s forehead, something he’d never done before.

This was true love. It was the type of love that could never be broken; not through anything. They would always be together. The thought was perhaps one of the best thoughts he’d had in quite some time. Through the fighting and the jealousy and everything else going on, happiness was hard to come by. No one else knew how hard it was for him to keep it together, and perhaps that was what had kept them together. They didn’t try to ‘fix’ each other. And It never crossed Dylan’s mind that maybe someone should try.

Julian felt the same. Although he didn't know that it would only get worse from here. There was no feeling as low as what he had felt for those few moments. Now he was steady and Dylan was holding him and he felt perfectly fine. Right now he could handle it. But later would be bad, and he had no idea.

He looked up to Dylan and smiled a sweet little smile. An innocent smile. Really, Julian wasn't as tainted as he seemed. He might have experience with sex and with a little alcohol, but as far as life went he was still very inexperienced. He hadn't had to work, he'd had the same boyfriend for a year. Only one boyfriend. The boy still had a lot to experience. So having the older male look at him like that and pull him close... It meant the world. Maybe he wouldn't be as lost as he thought he would. "Okay..." Later, Julian would try to figure out why Dylan had kissed him like that, why he was so emotional. But for now, he would let it slide. He wouldn't think about it too hard. He couldn't think about anything too hard.

Definitely not about how this was true love.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" He asked, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the nape of Dylan's neck. He paused there, leaving a little mark. It was something he rarely did, because Dylan wasn't fond of it. Of course the other could bruise him up all he liked, but definitely not the other way around.

“I think you’re perfect,” Dylan said, wanting nothing more right now then for Julian to just… stay with him. He knew that his behavior was extremely out of character and he didn’t care. All of the pressure about being the perfect boyfriend slipped away. He let himself forget that he wasn’t good enough. It was dangerous… to forget something so important, but he didn’t give a damn. Right now was the time for caring about nothing but the boy in front of him.

He wanted to say so many things next, but the words that came out were probably the worst that could have slipped from his lips. “You’ve lost weight?” He asked, smiling down in approval. “You look even more beautiful.” Of course, the words didn’t register as harmful in the older boy’s mind. But he would probably regret them later.

When Julian kissed his neck, he pulled away from him, touching the spot with a look of disgust as he thought of the bruise that would be there later. Yet, as quickly as the look came, it left. He could just tell everyone that it was from a girl. And with that thought, it was as if nothing had even happened. "Sorry," He muttered, not really meaning it. He moved back towards Julian.

While Dylan may have found those words damaging to Julian in the long run, they were just the words that the boy wanted to hear. He wanted to be validated for his accomplishment with the weight loss. He wanted someone to notice and compliment him on it. And Dylan was doing that now, saying that he looked even more beautiful. He looked genuinely happy then, curled up in Dylan's arms.

But the look that followed when Dylan pulled back to look at him... It sent Julian back into that state of mind. Obviously he wasn't beautiful enough yet. He wasn't thin enough for Dylan to be okay with leaving marks, for showing affection. Julian knew the problems that Dylan had with dating a boy. "I'm sorry..." He muttered modestly, hiding his face in his own shoulder. He was ashamed even, for thinking that he might be worthy of doing that. Of course Dylan could do it to him, he was worthless. He wasn't good enough. Not yet. But he could get better.

Dylan looked away from Julian. He really did wish that he was comfortable with walking around, saying that he had a boyfriend, but that just wasn’t possible. People made fun of guys for that. They tormented them. Hell, Dylan was one of the people who tormented the queer kids, he knew better than anyone how far it could go. And he couldn’t go through that. He would never be ready to face that.

“I-” He paused, rethinking his words. “Don’t be sad,” he murmured, reaching over and tilting Julian’s head towards himself. He had fucked up… again. It always happened like this. He said something, or did something, and Julian got upset over it. It was his fault, but the overwhelming desire to blame Julian almost always won over. Not this time though. This time he really did blame himself. “Please,” he pleaded, “Can’t we just go back to how it was earlier?” The kissing, the cuddling, the fucking. That part was nice. But it never lasted. Dylan always ended up messing it up.

The drugs definitely weren't helping this incident. In fact, they might even make it worse. Drill it into Julian's head subconsciously that Dylan felt this way. He'd never be able to shake that feeling. How ironic that they both felt equally unworthy of each other. Really, if they just looked past that, half of their problems would be solved.

"Okay..." Julian murmured softly, leaning in to nuzzle against Dylan's neck. He was always trying to be affectionate. Kisses, cuddling, all of that. Dylan didn't mind it, he even initiated it sometimes. But he always seemed to like it better when it was on his terms. So Julian had gotten used to not doing it at all. Now he felt like he could open up, and he'd just been nonverbally chastised for it. "I'm sorry, I should have thought about it." He replied softly, leaning in to kiss the corner of his boyfriend's lips softly.

Dylan kissed him back, with more force than passion. He could feel the wounded skin on Julian’s lip and that only made him feel worse. While he should have been riding on the buzz that he felt from the weed, he was sinking in it; becoming angrier at nothing in particular. Himself, Julian, the whole damn world. If this was how love felt most of the time, he was completely hopeless.

“Stop saying sorry,” Dylan said, a bit of an edge in his voice. He sunk further into the complete and absolute despair of the sudden drop. It was as if he were falling from a cliff. It would hurt soon and there was no bracing himself for how much. The weed, mixed with angel dust, mixed with alcohol proved to be a horrible combination. He pushed Julian away and sat up. “Fuck,” he moaned, a wave of depression stronger than he had ever felt washing over him. The alarm felt due to this sudden mood swing only made him more anxious. “Something’s wrong,” he brought his knees to his chest and covered his head with his arms.

Julian was a little surprised with the kiss that Dylan gave him. It was shocking and a little painful even. Not painful mentally. He was already in another place with that. But physically it hurt. And now that hurt was not blending so well with the pleasure. Because he felt like the pleasure was slowly being sucked out of him. Green eyes focused on dark ones, and Julian tried his hardest to keep that gaze. It was hard, when he knew what Dylan must be feeling. He was not of course privy to the alcohol, but he was still feeling the beginning of that tilt.

The tilt that would soon throw him over a cliff.

"Dylan..." Julian quickly sat up as the other pushed him away and curled up. What was it?! What was wrong? And then Julian felt it, probably more psychosomatic than anything. Because Dylan was freaking out, he was freaking out. "Dylan what's wrong?" He leaned in, but not too close. His thin fingers placed on the other's knee. "I don't feel so good..." Julian hadn't eaten anything before coming over, so he was especially feeling the effects of the weed and angel dust now.

“Leave me alone!” Dylan all but yelled, “I don’t care how the fuck you feel.” The words were spoken with an amount of malice that Dylan almost never used, and never with Julian. It was a tone reserved for his parents and their no good friends. He shoved Julian away forcefully and closed his eyes tightly. He wasn’t going to regret it later. He wasn’t going to regret anything that made this feeling go away. Suddenly, Dylan understood why people killed themselves. When life was this hopeless, what was the point? He would never be truly happy. He would never be able to accept the fact that he was gay, and so he would never find someone that would please society. The choices were either loneliness or everyone hating him.

“Get away,” he murmured, digging his nails into his own left arm “please just leave.” He hated himself so much. He wanted so badly to drink more and get rid of this feeling. He wanted to drink until he was completely numb… or dead. Either option would work at this point.

Julian didn't want to leave. Not even with that tone. A tone that he had never once heard directed at him. Towards others, yes. Other's that pissed Dylan off beyond all reason. But never had he heard any kind of anger and pain like that directed at himself. It only made him assume the worst. There was no point in trying to reason or get the other boy to 'change his mind.' Julian knew.

He especially knew now, now that he felt this shitty attitude. Now that he felt himself begin to dip deep into despair. Despair that made him forget all about Dylan. He pulled himself up from the bed and stepped out towards the door, stumbling backwards. Within seconds he was in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water clumsily as he tried to fill it in the sink. The next thing he did didn't surprise himself. He took it into Dylan's room and set it on the side table, then curled up on the floor. He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the wall, wrapping his arms around his knees. He wouldn't leave.

Dylan had to know that. Looking like a kicked puppy (which he practically was) Julian closed his eyes and refused to move from the spot. But it was a fair distance from Dylan to give him his space.

Normally, especially in this state, Dylan would have yelled at Julian; forced him to leave through either yelling or physical violence. But right now, he simply didn’t care. Julian didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. There was no point in yelling or hitting. He was too tired for that anyway. He was so tired He wanted to curl up in a ball under thick, warm blankets and just sleep. When he tried, he found that his eyes wouldn’t stay closed. They had a mind of their own really, and wouldn’t stop moving.

After a few moments, Dylan staggered up and into the kitchen, nearly falling once or twice on his way. This experience, staggering into the kitchen, wasn’t foreign at all. He did it at least once a week. But never had he felt so… desperate for a drink before. He clutched the liquor in both hands, trying to stop the shaking.

It took a few minutes to get the bottle open. After a whole lot of turning it the wrong way, and just trying to pull off the cap, he finally succeeded. His first sip was long and greedy, but it calmed him emotionally. Physically however, his body rejected the liquid only a few minutes after taking the sip. His hands shook so much that he had to hold the bottle between his legs and he found himself dry heaving a few times before going back to take another sip. The emotional calm that he felt was worth it.

Julian might have been able to sit there if he were any other person. He might have been able to fall asleep, with only the angel dust and the weed. But he was Julian, and he cared about Dylan. And hearing the other male stagger around the kitchen was just too much for him. He'd waited as long as he could, he'd tried desperately to hold off on moving forward. But he just couldn't any longer. The boy pulled himself up slowly and stepped out into the front room, then slid into the kitchen.

His action was swift and thoughtless. He leaned forward and yanked the bottle out of Dylan's hands and poured the remaining liquid down the sink. The consequences weren't even a thought. Only were his thoughts about Dylan. How he cared, but couldn't handle this sensation. At least fighting with his boyfriend would give them both something to do. Something to distract them from the empty hollow pain inside both of them.

Dylan stared at the liquid pouring down the drain, dumbfounded at first. He couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on. When reality caught up to him, it was in the form of pure anger and desperation. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Dylan cried, lunging forward and grabbing the empty bottle. He stumbled afterwards, hitting his chin on the counter. “Fuck,” he hissed, holding his jaw. Then he turned on Julian, the empty bottle in hand.

“What was that for?” He asked, still shaking. Only now it was with pure rageas well as inhebration. “I bought that with… with my money. That was m- mine and you just decided… that if would be fun to waste it?” He lifted the bottle and brought it down onto Julian’s arm. He didn’t think about what he was doing before he did it, but the second that the glass made contact, hitting the other boy hard enough to shatter the glass itself, the anger seemed to multiply by… well more than Dylan cared to give a number to. The next few minutes were filled with a bind rage that neither boy had ever seen Dylan even come close to. Julian wasn’t a person anymore, but a punching bag; something for him to take his temper out on. After an undetermined amount of time, the blows stopped and the older boy turned towards the sink, trying to control himself.

What ensued was nothing like Julian had ever imagined. The pain from the bottle broke everything in him. It just shattered the mask he was trying to keep from shattering regarding the drugs they'd taken. There would be no wait before this comedown, he'd be falling out of it in only a few short minutes. After Dylan decided to beat the living hell out of him, at least. When the bottle hit, Julian let out a loud and pained noise. Now, that either had to be fractured or broken. There was no way that his bones could take that much force and come away okay. Especially since Dylan was so much bigger than him.

That first shrill noise was the first of many to follow, but by the end of the beating he was reduced to silent, body shaking sobs. And when all was finally finished, he didn't make a noise at all. He had slipped down the counter onto the floor, his back leaning weakly against the cabinets there. That had not been something he'd expected, but the pain had masked most of the intense come down from the drug. At least for the moment. The amount of injuries he had were innumerable. A bruised cheekbone, ribs that were definitely bruised now, maybe even one or two broken, his lip had split again, and the amount of bruises and pain he would have in the morning was unbelievable. But he knew he couldn't go to the hospital. He couldn't go home either. So he'd just have to stay here, at the mercy of the man that had done this to him.

Julian had closed his eyes at that point, not quite in reality or in sleep. It was some form of torturous twilight, and he was stuck there. Even if Dylan tried to pull him out of it, he'd be unsuccessful. So for that moment he just sat there, looking as pathetic as ever. Helpless and vulnerable, his legs pulled to his chest in a protective manner, arms draped around them.

Once he came down from the anger, Dylan found himself staring at his hands with a look of terror on his face. His mouth was set in a hard, firm line and his eyebrows were knit tightly together. Not to mention that he was shaking as if he were naked in the snow. Shards of glass stuck in his hands and his knuckles were red from hitting something hard… Julian’s bones. His hands were smeared with the same blood that was on the smaller boy’s cheek and he could only guess that he had slapped him with disregard to the glass in his own hands. Now, he couldn’t even feel it. He was completely and totally numb to the bone.

Dylan ignored the boy sitting on the kitchen floor and turned on the water. It was scalding, but he faced the burning with an almost elated attitude. Picking the glass out of him palms, he was glad that Julian wasn’t crying. He really hated crying. Silence meant that a person was okay in the sick fucked up world that was Dylan’s mind. He rinsed his hands off and turned on the cold water. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured as if nothing bad had happened. The water wasn’t off when he left.

He found his way to the bathroom and shook a few pain killers out of the bottle before heading back into the kitchen, mindlessly grabbing a glass, filling it, and turning off the faucet. He then offered the water and pills to Julian. “It’s just ibuprofen,” he said, his voice completely deadpan. He had done nothing wrong. Julian was just being a baby. When the other boy didn’t respond, Dylan simply dropped the pills and placed the glass on the counter.

“You’re not that hurt,” He said, more to himself then to Julian. “It’s just the drugs. I didn’t tell you, but I think that weed was laced.” That was a lie. He had known that the weed was laced. “You just have a few bruises and cuts.” He began pacing, his voice gaining pitch as well as volume. Now he sounded like the normal, everyday Dylan. “I mean, I wouldn’t have hurt you if I hadn’t been drunk. But if you hadn’t been late, I wouldn’t have started. If you hadn’t taken a nap, we would be okay right now. I didn’t want to hurt you. I swear I really didn’t” He was rambling, and as he went on, his tone became pleading. “I promise I won’t get drunk again. I’ll be better, I swear to God. I’ll throw away everything that you don’t want me to have. Please talk to me Jules,” his voice cracked at the old nickname and he completely lost all illusion of having it together.’ “It’ll be just like old times. I promise. Please…I need you.”

If Julian could have been paying attention then, he would have. He would have given Dylan ever single second of his time, because that's how much he actually cared. The boy was hopelessly dedicated to his boyfriend, and after this he'd still be. Even after this, with shattered glass in his probably now broken arm, with his left cheek bloody from the glass in Dylan's hand. He'd still be there to listen and care. That was the sign of somebody with self destructive tendencies. That he was willing to throw himself into the line of fire knowing the consequences.

But he couldn't hear Dylan now. Not the way he wanted to. The words rang in and out, echoing through his head. All words that he could not respond to, the words that made him hurt for Dylan. His boyfriend was having such a difficult time right now, and Julian could do nothing about it. What kind of a boyfriend was the younger? To leave his own there suffering by himself? Even now Julian was giving himself a hard time, stuck in that unbelievable twilight.

That was something he hadn't heard in a while. Jules. Jules. Jules. It was something that Dylan used in the beginning. When they had been so affectionate. Julian had tried to keep that up, but Dylan quickly lost it. It was the guilt, Julian knew, of dating a boy. Perhaps that was one of the reasons that Julian tried so hard to keep up his appearance. Because maybe if he was a pretty enough boy, people wouldn't really care if Dylan was dating him.

He really couldn't move, but hearing that nickname gave him the strength to lift his head. Luckily nothing permanently damaging had been done to his face, but there was a little blood coming from his nose, his cheek scratched and bruised, and his lip swollen. The boy looked up at Dylan with those same hopeful eyes. Hopeful eyes that showed he believed in his boyfriend. But words were something that would not come to him. Not yet.

Dylan wiped away the reluctant tears that had filled his eyes. He wasn’t helping anything by being a little girl. That’s when he noticed Julian looking up at him. The fact that the other boy really was okay was a quick distraction from the pain.

He moved towards Julian hesitantly. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, knowing somewhere deep down that his promise wouldn’t be fulfilled… ever. He just wasn’t strong enough to give up the drugs. He wasn’t ready to let his memories become his. Even thinking of an eight year old boy named Dylan Green made him want to wash his brain out with something stronger than whiskey.

He walked to the cabinet below the stove and pulled out a small first aid kit. It was meant for small burns and cuts, but it was all Dylan had. He had never thought he would need anything else. He kneeled down in front of Julian and placed one hand on his boyfriend’s unmarred cheek. “This might hurt a little bit,” He said softly, not seeing the irony in his reluctance to cause Julian discomfort. He started on Julian’s left cheek, quickly pulling out the small bits of glass and dabbing the area with rubbing alcohol before covering the injury and chastely kissing the bandage. He did the same with the more visible of the other’s wounds before lifting Julian up in his arms, not surprised at how light he was. He didn’t stop to think that this action would only make any broken bones worse. Instead, he headed straight for his room, placing Julian on the bed with more care then he thought he was capable of.

Julian sat there silently as Dylan fixed him up. Fixing was not the right word. Dylan was trying to help him. In every way possible he knew that his boyfriend was trying to help. He loved Julian, of course he would. But he could never fix Julian. Julian would never be fixed. Even if Dylan disciplined him. He swallowed and gave Dylan a little smile, but still said nothing as the other boy continued to wipe away at the wounds Dylan had caused.

The boy was glad for Dylan moving him, despite all of the aches and pains that it caused. He much preferred laying on that bed to sitting on the ground. Within only seconds the boy had fallen asleep, still in the same position that Dylan had left him in.

It took a few moments for Dylan to tear his gaze away from Julian’s sleeping face. Even beat up, he still looked painfully beautiful. How the hell had it come this far? Not the abuse, but the part about falling in love with a boy. He knew that his mother would hate him, he knew that every smirk from his new daddy would mean something different. He knew how hard it would make his life. So why hadn’t Dylan been stronger?

It was because of his weakness that the two were in their situation now. Unable to fall asleep, even after nearly an hour of trying, Dylan moved away from the bed that he didn’t quite remember getting into. He was relatively better now, having slept the drugs off. Yet, the sight of Julian’s bruised and bandaged face hurt immensely. God he could use a drink. He didn’t forget his promises, but he had to face it; he was weak. What was the point in even trying to quit? He just had to hide it from his boyfriend better. Retrieving a small bottle of vodka from the back of his closet, Dylan took a few sips; enough to calm him, but not enough to really effect him.

It would be a few hours later that Julian finally woke up, stirring silently in the bed. A soft noise came from his lips, pained but still a nice sound. The boy opened his eyes, looking around the room for Dylan. Lucky for the other, he'd probably already put away the vodka, so Julian wouldn't have a chance to get mad. The boy pulled himself up a little, letting out a groan before he let himself fall back onto the bed. There was no way he could use his left arm for support. It hurt far too much.

"Dylan...?" His voice was a little hoarse and he looked over to his boyfriend on the floor. "Baby... What are you doing?" It didn't look like he was doing much of anything really.