Déjà Vu || Brian & Justin
Justin had started the day pretty simply. He had brunch with Gus and Taylor, his and Brian’s ten year old daughter. Both had finished their school year remotely like most of America the week before so they were officially on summer break. Over the meal they discussed the day’s plans. Gus was going to watch Taylor while Justin went out to one of the local protests with Daphne. He made sure that Gus had money for take-out, after all Gus had about the same cooking skills Brian did when Justin met him, before he hugged both of his children, put his mask and backpack on, and slipped out the door.
Justin took a taxi to Daphne’s neighborhood. Once he was there he met her on the stoop of her brownstone and they walked to the site of the protest. Everything had gone well and was peaceful for the first six hours or so. However around five in the evening all hell broke loose and suddenly cops were pushing them back brandishing night sticks and pepper spray. He stepped in front of Daphne to protect her. The next moment he was shoved hard enough to knock him off his feet. The ground and the sky suddenly switched places. He felt his head slam into the pavement.
At first his head just vibrated with the force of the hit, but once his vision focused again he scrambled to his feet and grabbed Daphne’s hand desperate to escape from what he saw. He weaved through the crowd running from the cop that had shoved him because his badge read C. Hobbs. Justin would never forget those eyes and the coldness in them so he knew that the cop was Chris Hobbs.
Once they were far enough away that he knew that he was not chasing him and his adrenaline was dropping, he began to feel dizzy. “Daph we got to go to the hospital. I think I am going to be sick.”, he told her before vomiting on the street. She called an ambulance and within ten minutes he was taken to the hospital. He hated that they wouldn’t allow Daphne to be by his side in the hospital due to the coronavirus outbreak although he was happy when they said his husband would be allowed in when he arrived as long as he passed the scan.
Justin had been given medications to help with his nausea and had an MRI by the time that he heard Brian’s voice coming down the hallway. He was talking to the doctor who was filling his husband in on what had happened and the damage done. He held his arms out to him as Brian walked through the door. Suddenly he got teary eyed. He wasn’t sure if it was because he felt safest with his husband, because his husband looked harried, because of side effects of the meds he was taking or all of the above. “Bri, come here please?”, he asked.
By the time the cab finally pulls up to the hospital, Brian is practically a bundle of nerves. The fucking mask on his face is hard enough to breathe in by itself, but knowing that Justin is lying in a hospital bed with no one around him just puts him on edge. He can’t help but think to himself, Not again, not again, not again...
When the cab pulls up, Brian tosses a few bills at the cabbie before getting out. He spots Daphne standing just outside the door, and he waves his hand to her before jogging up. Even behind her mask, he can tell she’s been crying. Her eyes are glassy and the little bit of skin he can see of her cheeks is all blotchy. He pulls her into a one-armed hug, social-distancing be damned.
“He said he was fine,” she says, right before she sniffles. “But then all of a sudden, he wasn’t. Fucking cops.”
Brian shushes her before pulling back out of the hug. He squeezes her shoulder. “I’m gonna head inside, see what the fuck is going on. You gonna be okay? You’ve got a ride back to your place? If not, you can stay at ours, just use your spare key.” He lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as soon as Daphne nods her head. He squeezes her shoulder again before taking a step toward the automatic doors. “If he’s alright, which it sounds like he is, I’ll have him call you, okay? Just go home, get some rest. Have a drink on my account, and I’ll have him call.”
“Okay, thanks, Brian. Take care of him?”
He enters the hospital slowly, but not before being stopped by a hefty nurse that could possibly have been a bouncer in another life. He answers the same few questions he’s asked any time he has to go out: Have you traveled recently? Have you been in contact with anyone that has tested positive or is awaiting results for COVID-19? Have you had any symptoms? No. No. And No, again. He takes a step closer so that the nurse can scan his forehead. Ninety-seven, five. Good and healthy.
Once he’s passed the Inquisition and had his hands properly coated with enough hand sanitizer to clean his entire body, Brian makes his way to the elevators, pressing the button for the fifth floor. Once out of the elevator, he stops by the desk to ask where the fuck he should go now, but he’s cut off by a man’s voice coming from the hall.
Brian turns his head to see a man a white lab coat making his way toward him. He nods, turning toward the man. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“I’m Dr. O’Connor, the one that’s been treating Justin? I’d shake your hand, but considering the circumstances, I’m afraid that’s not advised. If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you up to speed with his condition. And good news, he’s awake. He’s been asking for you.”
Well, that’s a fucking relief, Brian thinks to himself. He walks in step with the good doctor, listening to all that the man has to say, though it doesn’t quite register all the way. There’s only a few words that stick out: trauma... concussion... possible memory loss... And just like that, the mantra from before is back. Not again, not again, not again.
The come to a stop outside a door, and Brian can only guess that this is Justin’s room, but the words the doctor had spoken are too busy buzzing around Brian’s head to give him any sort of coherent thought. He can hear Dr. O’Connor still speaking to him, but he has trouble understanding him clearly, his eyes too focused on the door. It’s only after a beat that he finally understands the doctor’s next words.
“Like I said, he’s been asking for you, so if you’d like to see him, go on in. Just make sure he doesn’t move too much. We don’t want him on his feet just yet.”
Brian nods his head slowly before opening the door to Justin’s room, and heart clenches when he sees Justin lying in the hospital bed, arms already stretched out toward him.
