Sasha Martin Stanford (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beautifulday) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2018-05-26 03:19 am
beautifulday) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2018-05-26 03:19 am
"Trust yourself to do what's right and not be second-guessed."
Who: Sasha Stanford and Mark Campbell
What: Trust in the aftermath
Where: Four Winds, Westchester
When: Simultaneous to this
Sasha got in the passenger’s seat of Mark’s car and pulled the door closed with a resounded bang. He looked back at the main building of Four Winds, his heart feeling shaky and his guts sick. His head was hurting too, but he knew it was more stress and upset than a migraine setting in, though he knew he could be at risk of one of those. His eyes stung and he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to massage some sort of hopeful feeling into his pours through his fingertips, like it could somehow infiltrate into his brain. Maybe his brain could convince his heart to be okay, though right now, he wasn’t sure it could be. Then he leant over, buried his face in his hands and burst into tears he had been struggling to hold back since Justin told him he needed to go to hospital or he would kill himself.
Mark got into the car and looked over to where Sasha was now sitting where Justin had been on the drive up here. He was impressed how long Sasha managed to hold off the tears, but he knew it hadn’t been to save face in front of Justin. It would have been simply a fact that he wanted to make sure he knew exactly what was going on and what would happen to Justin once he was admitted. The admission process had been going through the motions. Justin barely said anything. He answered the vital questions with monotone responses, lacking the ability to really elaborate. That would come later when they started the intensive therapy. Mark knew Justin was in good hands here and he would be safe. Sasha didn’t know that. This was his first experience getting Justin admitted to a psych hospital. It was that confronting epitome of having a loved one with a mental illness, and never easy to deal with. Leaving Justin behind was the hardest part.
He inhaled slowly, but let it out in a rush. He was bracing himself, he knew that. The conversation he had to have in the next few minutes was going to hurt like hell, but it was vital. He just wished there was an easy way, but delaying it would be unfair. He put his hand on Sasha’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “I know all this hurts like a bitch, mate, but I don’t want you to be blindsided by what comes next. He’s going to decline all visitors. Somewhere between now and the next few hours, Hunter will call me and say Justin doesn’t want any visitors. That’s going to include people sending him flowers, receiving phone calls, anything that reminds him of the outside world. And I just need you to know it’s not you, it’s not me, it’s not anyone he loves. It’s because of his trauma. WIthout any other way to harm himself, he denies himself love and care. He also can’t cope with the fact people are hurting because he’s hurting, and he doesn’t know how to convince them he’ll be okay. It’s just part of the process. Your first reaction will be to want to convince him he’s wrong and convince him how much you love him. Don’t think he doesn’t know that.”
“S-So, how long until he’ll let me visit him? I just have to walk away and leave him completely alone in there? He’s going to think I’m just like Will,” Sasha fretted, hands going up over his face again. He dropped his head back against the headrest, trying to get himself to stop crying. Tears still came, but he roughly wiped them away and looked out the window where rain was starting to spit. Fitting for the mood of the early evening. “I feel like I should’ve seen this coming. It happened so quickly, were there signs I missed? I’m supposed to be part of his care team, and I didn’t realise anything until he was seriously sick. I didn’t realise until he was… looking at me with those frenzied eyes. Then it was like it was too late. I’m horrible at this.”
“Hey, no.” Mark took Sasha’s hands away from his face so the kid could see him firmly shake his head. “That’s the worst thing you can do here, kiddo. You cannot blame yourself for what his mental illness does. That was the mistake Will made, and the worst he could’ve made. He took the agency of Justin’s part of the relationship out of his hands and reduced him down to his illness and you can’t do that, Sash. And I know how hard that is. No one has fucked up more with bad decisions about Justin’s care than I have. You want to try not to fuck everything up and you make the wrong choices for him. It’s reactionary because you’re in shock and you don’t know how to process what I’m saying here. That’s okay. You have to let yourself hurt, feel confused and stressed. I need to tell you something that I know he didn’t want anyone to know. Not even me. But it’s important we do to understand his state of mind and why he deteriorated so quickly. Because this is not his norm. That’s the part we can’t forget. Justin’s mentally ill, but there is what is normal for his illness and what’s not. When he tips over into the not, those are warning signs of something more going on. Something relating to his PTSD triggers. And there are really only two things that do that. Sexual assault trauma, and the abuse from his mother.”
Sasha looked at Mark, blinking back more tears that were still determined to fall. His pressed his lips together and just stared at Mark for lingering moments, wondering what he was trying to suggest here. “Are you going to tell me someone raped him again? I-I would’ve seen signs, I would’ve known. I know it’s no secret he and I don’t always have sex, but we’re always intimate in other ways. I would know if he had been raped. He would tell me that, and he wouldn’t have just been able to keep going. He said it was his mom’s birthday. He said he wanted her to rot in hell, right after he apparently gets letters sent to him at the theatre. She’s in jail. He supposed to be safe from her. How did this fucking happen? Why the fuck should she get to stay alive when she’s damaging every single part of his life so badly that he wants to kill himself? You’re an attorney, you’re supposed to protect him! How could you let this happen?!”
Mark expected Sasha to get angry, and it was best aimed at him. Sasha’s voice rose, but all things considered, he thought the poor kid did well to keep it pretty contained. If Sasha could hit that spot quickly and come down the other side of it, he would be better off. He still needed to know it was okay to feel it. Mark let it hit, giving the kid the room he needed to explode, even just briefly. “He would’ve been a lot worse than this if he had been raped again, mate. He wouldn’t be functioning. He probably wouldn’t even still be breathing. He trusts you, so whatever this is, he probably hasn’t processed it enough to rationalise it and verbalise it to you. The booze and drugs were a band-aid, something to help him try to cope with what we assumed was something his mother wrote to him in letters. And as much as I wish I had super-human powers, our legal system isn’t foolproof. Justin asked Clint to arrange someone to kill his mother. He wanted to pay him. So, he was desperate to stop her getting to him again. I thought she possibly threatened him in the letters and I still do think that. But I don’t think his response would’ve been so desperate and extreme if it was just that. I think something in the letters has triggered a memory of something he had suppressed. Rather than him being mentally stable to cope with that, he turned back to alcohol and drugs to drown it out, what he used to try to get her out of his head when she still had custody of him. I know this is going to be so hard for you to process, Sash, but I also know you’re strong enough to take it. The problem I have is that we can’t let this go beyond us, because I’ve left it in Clint’s hands. I was going to try to get Jus to open up to me about what was in the letters, but he deteriorated too quickly. Clint only came to see me that afternoon before your mates were over.”
“Good. I hope Clint fucking got the job done and I hope it was in the most painful goddamn way possible.” Sasha didn’t care where this was coming from inside him, because it wasn’t like him. But he meant every word, even if he felt sick hearing how much worse this all was than face-value. He knew as soon as Mark said this, that Justin never would’ve told him. Because he didn’t know how, or to protect him, or whatever other possible reason his severely mentally ill mind constructed for him at the moment. “What worse could he remember than she has already done to her own child? And what did she say to him in the fucking letters that brought it back? He has these massive gaps in his memory as a kid. He can’t even call it patchy. He told me he barely remembers his friendship with Kolbie. He only remembers that he felt safe with Kolbie, that they would play on his trampoline together. Hardly anything else. Why do people like Andi die and cunts like her get to keep living? I don’t get it, I fucking hate this world!” He got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He didn’t care if it was raining. Maybe that was why he got out, because getting wet matched how he felt and he needed to cool off. He felt nauseous and he was crying, when all he wanted to do was keep his shit together to help Justin however he needed. Even if that was not seeing him, or seeing anyone. When Mark followed him out of the car, Sasha lost his steam and slumped against the door. “I’ve taken care of my disabled dad since I was six and I watched my best friend die of cancer. Why aren’t I better at this?”
Mark had grabbed his umbrella from the car and put it up over both of them, leaning back against the door by Sasha. If the kid wanted to be out in the rain, he would be out here with him. But he wouldn’t let him do something silly like catch pneumonia or sit out here and believe he should be feeling guilty about his feelings. “Better than what?” he asked softly. He put his arm around the kid’s shoulders, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Mark, himself, was fucking churned up inside with a sick fear and worry about his son, but he was the parental figure here. He swore on his life to Sasha’s folks that when he came to live with them, he would take care of him as if he was their own. He knew he loved the kid as much as his own son and he was so proud he would one day call Sasha his son-in-law. Sasha needed to know it was okay to break here, and it was Mark’s job to hold his shit together until he got home and probably bawled his eyes out with Gen later on. “You’re in love with him, mate. It’s a different thing to what you faced with your dad and Andi. This is your heart on the line, with a very real terror Jus might die. He might. We have to face that, and it’s the hardest fucking thing in the world to accept. All we can do is try to keep him as safe as possible, but his life is a constant battle and we’re his allies. Don’t think you’re doing a shit job. There’s no score sheet here. There’s not essential criteria you have to meet. You just have to love him, especially on his worst days. And this other evil shit… I’ll get it sorted. Don’t worry about that part. She’s breached her sentence orders, and if she’s threatened to harm Jus, shit’s going to hit the fan. The way he’s responded, tipped over into a psychotic episode, I know she has. I just need to know how.”
“Mark…” Sasha inhaled deeply, like he was about to cough. The breath hitched and he leaned over to try to catch it. His chest felt like he had a stitch, but he knew it wasn’t really a physical pain. It was anxiety, stress and fear knotted up in his gut and heart. “W-Why does this feel harder than cancer? Why does it feel harder than… than my dad being quadriplegic? Do you know, I’ve seen him suicidal. I can tell when he is. I… I can’t explain it, I just have this sick heavy feeling in my gut when he hits that place. It changes from those general background suicidal thoughts he has that are just part of his illness to this fucking haunted look he gets in his face, his eyes. Not even the manic, or the depression. I know the difference. I’m used to taking care of him, I know what helps and I know how to just weather it. But this? The psychosis? I feel so fucking out of my depth and feel like if I make one wrong move, it’ll kill him. I know that’s my insecurity. I knew going into this how hard it would be. I respected that he was mentally ill and I did everything I could to educate myself with that, even though I knew my dad experiences it. But Justin was different. Everyone’s illness is subjective and I wanted to learn about it because I hoped it might make him feel that tiny bit less alone. He… he confides in me a lot. We talk so much. More than people realise, I think. When I said we’re intimate in other ways, that’s a big part of it. We just… talk, and hold each other. Sometimes we hold each other and don’t say anything at all, because some days, he hasn’t got enough words to fit how he’s feeling inside. And that’s okay too, because he’s beautiful and I see that no matter how sick he is. But when there’s absolutely nothing I can for him to take just a tiny bit of the pain away? I feel like I’m fucking failing him. There’s always been this thing that everyone, even him, has said about him not really being there when he’s psychotic. I believed it. I saw it in the hospital that night when he had that complete psychotic break. But he was still there this time. I’m not saying he wasn’t psychotic, I just don’t think he was separate from it. I think he was literally feeling hell, and when I think of him like that, can we really fucking blame him for taking Ice to try to switch it off? Or thinking about killing himself? He told me what he was about to do, Mark. I always knew Andi would have a peaceful death. But looking at Justin when he was psychotic and on drugs, I knew no matter what he did, it wouldn’t be peaceful. I don’t even know if I should be talking to you about this stuff or I should take Alec’s suggestion of getting a therapist myself.”
They stood there, both slumped against the car under the shelter of the umbrella, the rain starting to piss down harder. Mark didn’t make any move to get out of it. He would stand out here all night with the kid if he needed to. “Sash, I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t talk to me about what you’re going through with Justin. I’ve been there, but I’m also his dad. Even if he doesn’t always directly engage me, I know about everything he goes through and I know that sometimes, the best thing I can do for him is nothing. Because you’re already there for him doing it. My kids are the most precious things in my entire life, through every year I’ve existed on this fucking planet. I would not trust my my precious thing with someone I didn’t have complete faith in caring for him. But you’ll never be able to keep your head above water trying to do it alone, buddy. I haven’t been able to do it on my own, and I made him. I made him when I was completely drunk off my face with an evil cunt who would nearly extinguish that life we made. That’s my shit to deal with, and I will. I’ll have help with it too. Leave that part up to me. And one day, you’re going to marry that precious thing I created because you make him happy when he shouldn’t be capable of happiness after all he has survived. But you make him happy. You make him smile. And on the days he’s so sick, he can barely function, you’re there to hold him because that’s all you can do. I know it’s hard to accept that part, mate. I really do. But he’s alive because of you. You don’t have to talk to a therapist if you don’t want to. Hell, I don’t like therapy so much myself, but I go because I know Jus needs to know I’m getting help with my shit. You might find it easier to talk to me. Or Gen, or Sam, or your folks, or Zeke, or your other friends. Or maybe no one. Talking doesn’t always help. Sometimes, you might just need to get it all off your chest like you’re doing now. I’m here for you as much as I am for my son, okay? Because you’re just like a son to me by default.”
“I get worried my friends will start hating me if I don’t talk to them about all this stuff. I was just always a better listener, you know? Andi got that. We talked a lot, but not about what was bothering me. Towards the end there, I don’t think either of us wanted to talk about IT. Death. What it meant, how it might happen, what it might feel like. I stopped talking about how I felt about Dad too. At some point, I don’t know when. Because it stopped mattering how I felt after awhile. It became normal for us. Dad’s not abnormal to me. He’s not even sick. He’s… just different to most. We have to do things differently. But he’s still Dad to me. He’s never been anything else. Never been The Handicap, or The Quadriplegic. Not even The Race Car Champ. Just Dad. It’s all I ever needed him to be. All I ever needed Andi to be was was my best friend. Do you know all Justin ever needed me to be?” Sasha bit on his lip and nodded slowly, fighting the feeling hitting him to crawl into bed and sleep for a week without moving. His throat was choked with a lump of emotion, but he was used to its existence now. It just hurt knowing he couldn’t curl up with Justin. He was used to Justin being a hospital patient, but he knew this was an extremely different situation. “Me. It’s all he ever wanted. I do want to talk to our friends about it. But at the same time, I think some situations, talking won’t help, no matter how much you do it. I guess that goes against everything a shrink believes.”
Despite how hard today was, how hard the recent weeks had been, Mark smiled faintly at hearing Sasha talk about his dad. He knew they had an incredible father and son relationship, even if Martin was a quadriplegic. “No, I’d say shrinks probably believe better than anyone that talking can’t fix everything. It can’t even help some situations feel better. I can say that, I grew up with a bloke who would turn into a shrink. Look who he still has as a brother. Your friends aren’t going to start hating you or resenting you for not talking to them about this. That would indicate they had a sense of entitlement over your feelings, and they don’t. Maybe some kids do, but not your friends. They’ve proven that time and time again. They just want you to know they’re there. The same thing Jus wants off you, mate. Sometimes you have to stop and let it hurt. I think today is one of those times. I think as a father, though, and one who’s going to be your father-in-law some day, I think you can let it hurt at the same time as trying to get some sleep. Have you even had much in the last few days? I’ll keep in touch with Hunter about how he’s doing, but you’re allowed to call yourself too. Anytime you need an update. I made sure you were listed on all the forms. You’ll be okay if he refuses visitors?”
“I haven’t really slept. I really felt like if I did, I’d wake up and he’d be gone. I like to think Andi’s watching over him and keeping him safe. But I also know that if he really needs to go, she won’t stop him. She’d welcome him with open arms. I keep telling myself that, but it’s not really conducive to sleep. I don’t want her arms around him, I want mine. But I know he’d get upset if he knew I wasn’t sleeping well, so I’ll try. Can’t promise I’ll be any good at it…” Sasha pushed away from the car door with a deep sigh, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. It was a last-ditch attempt to try to get his tears to stop. Even if he managed it, he’d be doing it again soon enough. It might be the only way he could get through this. “It’s… it’s hard to process that he doesn’t want to live. I feel like a terrible fiance for feeling that too, because I told him I understand. And I do, I just I never want to let him go.”
Mark patted Sasha’s back. “Let’s get in the car and get you home so you can at least try to rest. If you’re heading for another migraine, I’d rather it be home than out in the rain to risk you coming down with something. Then he’ll lick me up the arse for not taking better care of you as soon as he’s well enough to think straight again.” He opened the door for Sash to get back in the car now the rain was really starting to come down. As he rounded the car back to the driver’s side, his gaze lingered on the main building of the hospital, hoping like hell his son was in just as good hands as last time. Of course, he had Justin in his care too long now to know nothing was ever a given, and new things could come to light. There was always a risk Justin could end up having a severe mental break he never truly bounced back from, and Mark knew if there was anything that heightened that risk, it was his cunt of a mother trying to force her way back into his life. Mark was absolutely fucking furious at her, but he had to keep that fire fanned down inside for the time being. His anger was secondary to the real issues here. “You want to know the worst-kept secret? I find it hard to process that he doesn’t want to live too, no matter how much I learn about his condition and why he goes through what he does. Because to process that means processing an acceptance of being able to let him go if the time ever came, and that’s not something I’ll ever be able to do. It took me a really long time to realise that he doesn’t need me to process it. He just needs me to respect it. He’s never asked any of us to accept it, because I know he doesn’t accept it himself. That’s why it’s such a terrible demon he battles so hard. If someone could slice into his brain and cut that piece of it out, I know he would authorise them to do it immediately, even if that risked his life too. And I know how happy you make each other, Sash. That’s why these harder times feel impossible to navigate. All this, it’s not because he’s mentally ill. It’s because his mother is a dangerous and vile piece of work, and the more I see her try to harm him, the more I’m convinced she at least has to have some sociopathic thread to her. I’m not entirely convinced I wasn’t a victim of it myself, but I was young and stupid back then, and if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have him. This time, though, she’s going to wish she sat back and accepted her prison sentence as a sign of mercy. I will not let her steal another moment of my son’s precious life from him again.”
Sasha buckled his seatbelt again and buried his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he was wearing, one of Justin’s official cast hoodies from Footloose. They shared clothes all the time, but these beloved items gave him comfort in times like this. He sunk down in the seat, feeling the belt pull tight over his heart, but it was nothing like the pressure his emotions were already applying to it. He watched the heavy rain pelting the windscreen, wishing he could just wind back to the last time Justin’s moods were balanced and they were cosied up in bed together, kissing and cuddling, enjoying each other’s quiet company without a care in the world. He missed the feeling of Justin’s soft, warm lips on his, even if it hadn’t been that long since they shared some tender kisses. He listened to Mark and then looked over at him, frowning in confusion when he wasn’t sure he put the pieces of what Mark just said together correctly. “You think she drugged you to sleep with her or something? You think if she did, it makes it okay just because you were young and stupid? Because that’s what people put Justin as down before he left Chicago, you know. A young, stupid loser making fucked up choices about his life. When he’s actually one of the most intelligent and smart people I’ve ever met in my life. Way beyond what can be learned from books or school. Because of what he’s been through. And I think maybe he’s a lot like you in that sense. Maybe you were drunk and turned her down, so she took matters into her own hands. Maybe that’s why she hates Justin so much, because she hates you. He looks just like you…”
Mark knew he had a lot of old wounds being pried open with this latest turn of events. All the guilt, all the self-interrogation he had to do when Justin fell seriously ill like this. Since Alec returned from posting overseas and had since exited the Army to be in private psych practice, Mark had spent a hell of a lot of time talking to him about this stuff. He had finally come to terms with the fact that his own late-diagnosis of cyclothymia contributed to a lot of things in his life, but would most certainly have had genetic impact on Justin being diagnosed Bipolar. But Alec was also absolutely adamant that even if Justin had genetic predisposition to this form of mental illness from their side of the family, it would have been exacerbated distinctly if his mother had abuse alcohol or drugs while she was pregnant with him. Even then, everything she did after she gave birth to him was more damaging than anything that came before his birth, especially genes. It had been Alec that really tethered Mark down during one difficult discussion and asked him directly if there was a chance the woman laced his drink or food, and sexually assaulted him, seeing as how little qualms she had leaving her son exposed to sexual assault as a child. It had been too hard for Mark to face at the time, but this latest turn of events was reopening old wounds. What the fuck had she said to Justin in these latest letters? She could feel the power of Sasha’s stare as if it had physical force. “There’s nothing she could do now, or has done in the past, that would surprise me. What I do know is that causing him to self-destruct in this way is the equivalent of attempted-murder in my book and I don’t sit back and let anyone harm my kids. But whatever that will ultimately look like, that’s nothing any of you kids need to be concerned about. We’ll take care of it. All you have to worry about, Sash, is taking care of yourself and just keep loving him. That’s the most powerful thing you can do for him. He forgets what love is during these times. What it really means. That’s where Will went wrong, kiddo. He stopped realising Justin always needed to keep being reminded of that in whatever way he could spare, no matter how small.”
“Is there really anything you can do to stop her, though? Like, that’s not going to hold up in court because she hasn’t tried to murder him. I know she broke sentence conditions, or whatever the fuck that means, but what happens? She gets a few more years on her sentence, and then tries again in six months time to write him more letters using some other dumb bitch’s name? What happens in six months time, Mark? When he spirals again when she tries something new, and he succeeds in committing suicide then? Can you really fucking keep him safe, or is it just all talk? Because talk is exhausting me. Every time I see him this sick, I feel like it’s only a matter of time because someone won’t just be in the right place at the right time to save him from himself. Be honest with me. I’m not a fucking kid, I can handle it. Is there really anything you can do but instigate some sort of wrist slap to stop her trying again for awhile before she hatches her next plan to get to him? Is that all his life is going to boil down to? Running for his life from her until her sentence ends and she’s free to hunt him down in person again?” Sasha’s voice was getting a little shrill when he emotions started to bubble up again. He was going to make himself sick if he kept freaking out like this. Being sick wouldn’t help anything, it would probably just make him feel more sick and useless than he already did. He at least knew in a closed ward, Justin would be safe from suicide. He was on suicide watch. That’s why he was admitted, and Hunter gave him the rundown of what that meant to reassure him Justin would be safe while he was in there. But it was temporary. They couldn’t lock Justin away in there forever. “Maybe you should just let Justin pay for the hit and be done with it. And I value being a good person, but I hope she dies, so he can be saved from this horrible terror.”
Mark had no intentions of filling the kid in on what his next move was going to be because he wouldn’t let him be tainted with informed knowledge of it. No matter how good a plan certain people could have - people he had complete faith in to get a job done - no plan was foolproof. It would need to be triggered from the inside, and he wasn’t letting anyone else, especially not Sasha or any of the other kids, get burned in translation. But Sasha wasn’t really a kid, he was right. He was a smart young man, and he was intuitive and cluey. Just like Justin. Mark knew he had to give him something here, even if some sturdy reassurance. He couldn’t treat him like he wasn’t smart enough to understand this situation in its entirety. But he couldn’t be furnished with incriminating knowledge of any sort. “I took care of the bloke that did this to him. I’ll do it again, too.” He cleared his throat and started the car up, albeit with great reluctance of having to drive away and leave his son here. “I know people who will put their lives on the line to save a kid. Especially a kid like Justin. Will you promise me if I get you home to your folks, you’ll try to get some rest? Because you being taken care of is just as important for his health and safety as any of this other stuff. You’re his world, Sash. He needs you, and he needs you separate from any of this bad shit. Not have you tainted by it too. Okay? Trust me?” He held his hand out to Sasha for him to shake, if the poor kid trusted him enough. He didn’t have to, and Mark wouldn’t blame him one bit if he couldn’t.
Sasha closed his eyes, feeling them burn like his retinas were made of razorblades. “Maybe after I puke my guts up, cry my eyes out in the shower, and stop choking on this lump in my throat, sure,” he mumbled and shook Mark’s hand. “I-I’m sorry… I just don’t know how I should be feeling right now. What I’m supposed to think. I can’t get my head around why anyone would want to hurt him, but so many people have tried. Why can’t they see what we see? He hasn’t done anything to deserve this torture. It’s the opposite, he does so much good people. I don’t get it.” The heels of his hands were pressed in against his eyes again, trying to block the urge to fall right back into crying. Maybe he really did just need to let it all come, but he would prefer to do it locked away in his room alone. He let out a ragged sigh, feeling that telltale throb started behind his temple. He wished he had the security of being able to shoot Justin a text to remind him he loved him, but the admissions doctor handed it to Mark for safekeeping as they couldn’t let Justin have access to anything potentially psychologically taxing, which is why they restricted who could visit him in the first week or so, if not longer. And, as it sounded like would be inevitable, only if Justin wanted the visitors. In the meantime, his care team would still have meetings with Hunter and his doctor at the hospital, and Sasha would be involved in those where he could, if he wasn’t in school. But exam time was looming. He felt like he was going to bomb out on everything. How the fuck could he focus on study when Justin was this ill?
“You don’t have to just get it, mate. You need to feel whatever you’re feeling, and that’s probably going to be awful and draining. Let yourself do whatever you need. I think having time with your folks and getting some rest while Justin’s inaccessible will do you a world of good. In a few days, it’ll feel a little easier to navigate. You’ll adjust and take each day as it comes. As corny as that sounds, it’s all you can do. Now, come on. You’re looking really rough. We’ll get you home. I can fill your mum and dad in on everything if you’re not up to it,” Mark offered, seeing how pale and washed out Sasha was. No doubt shock was still reverberating through him. You couldn’t just switch that off.
LOG, COMPLETE
What: Trust in the aftermath
Where: Four Winds, Westchester
When: Simultaneous to this
Sasha got in the passenger’s seat of Mark’s car and pulled the door closed with a resounded bang. He looked back at the main building of Four Winds, his heart feeling shaky and his guts sick. His head was hurting too, but he knew it was more stress and upset than a migraine setting in, though he knew he could be at risk of one of those. His eyes stung and he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to massage some sort of hopeful feeling into his pours through his fingertips, like it could somehow infiltrate into his brain. Maybe his brain could convince his heart to be okay, though right now, he wasn’t sure it could be. Then he leant over, buried his face in his hands and burst into tears he had been struggling to hold back since Justin told him he needed to go to hospital or he would kill himself.
Mark got into the car and looked over to where Sasha was now sitting where Justin had been on the drive up here. He was impressed how long Sasha managed to hold off the tears, but he knew it hadn’t been to save face in front of Justin. It would have been simply a fact that he wanted to make sure he knew exactly what was going on and what would happen to Justin once he was admitted. The admission process had been going through the motions. Justin barely said anything. He answered the vital questions with monotone responses, lacking the ability to really elaborate. That would come later when they started the intensive therapy. Mark knew Justin was in good hands here and he would be safe. Sasha didn’t know that. This was his first experience getting Justin admitted to a psych hospital. It was that confronting epitome of having a loved one with a mental illness, and never easy to deal with. Leaving Justin behind was the hardest part.
He inhaled slowly, but let it out in a rush. He was bracing himself, he knew that. The conversation he had to have in the next few minutes was going to hurt like hell, but it was vital. He just wished there was an easy way, but delaying it would be unfair. He put his hand on Sasha’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “I know all this hurts like a bitch, mate, but I don’t want you to be blindsided by what comes next. He’s going to decline all visitors. Somewhere between now and the next few hours, Hunter will call me and say Justin doesn’t want any visitors. That’s going to include people sending him flowers, receiving phone calls, anything that reminds him of the outside world. And I just need you to know it’s not you, it’s not me, it’s not anyone he loves. It’s because of his trauma. WIthout any other way to harm himself, he denies himself love and care. He also can’t cope with the fact people are hurting because he’s hurting, and he doesn’t know how to convince them he’ll be okay. It’s just part of the process. Your first reaction will be to want to convince him he’s wrong and convince him how much you love him. Don’t think he doesn’t know that.”
“S-So, how long until he’ll let me visit him? I just have to walk away and leave him completely alone in there? He’s going to think I’m just like Will,” Sasha fretted, hands going up over his face again. He dropped his head back against the headrest, trying to get himself to stop crying. Tears still came, but he roughly wiped them away and looked out the window where rain was starting to spit. Fitting for the mood of the early evening. “I feel like I should’ve seen this coming. It happened so quickly, were there signs I missed? I’m supposed to be part of his care team, and I didn’t realise anything until he was seriously sick. I didn’t realise until he was… looking at me with those frenzied eyes. Then it was like it was too late. I’m horrible at this.”
“Hey, no.” Mark took Sasha’s hands away from his face so the kid could see him firmly shake his head. “That’s the worst thing you can do here, kiddo. You cannot blame yourself for what his mental illness does. That was the mistake Will made, and the worst he could’ve made. He took the agency of Justin’s part of the relationship out of his hands and reduced him down to his illness and you can’t do that, Sash. And I know how hard that is. No one has fucked up more with bad decisions about Justin’s care than I have. You want to try not to fuck everything up and you make the wrong choices for him. It’s reactionary because you’re in shock and you don’t know how to process what I’m saying here. That’s okay. You have to let yourself hurt, feel confused and stressed. I need to tell you something that I know he didn’t want anyone to know. Not even me. But it’s important we do to understand his state of mind and why he deteriorated so quickly. Because this is not his norm. That’s the part we can’t forget. Justin’s mentally ill, but there is what is normal for his illness and what’s not. When he tips over into the not, those are warning signs of something more going on. Something relating to his PTSD triggers. And there are really only two things that do that. Sexual assault trauma, and the abuse from his mother.”
Sasha looked at Mark, blinking back more tears that were still determined to fall. His pressed his lips together and just stared at Mark for lingering moments, wondering what he was trying to suggest here. “Are you going to tell me someone raped him again? I-I would’ve seen signs, I would’ve known. I know it’s no secret he and I don’t always have sex, but we’re always intimate in other ways. I would know if he had been raped. He would tell me that, and he wouldn’t have just been able to keep going. He said it was his mom’s birthday. He said he wanted her to rot in hell, right after he apparently gets letters sent to him at the theatre. She’s in jail. He supposed to be safe from her. How did this fucking happen? Why the fuck should she get to stay alive when she’s damaging every single part of his life so badly that he wants to kill himself? You’re an attorney, you’re supposed to protect him! How could you let this happen?!”
Mark expected Sasha to get angry, and it was best aimed at him. Sasha’s voice rose, but all things considered, he thought the poor kid did well to keep it pretty contained. If Sasha could hit that spot quickly and come down the other side of it, he would be better off. He still needed to know it was okay to feel it. Mark let it hit, giving the kid the room he needed to explode, even just briefly. “He would’ve been a lot worse than this if he had been raped again, mate. He wouldn’t be functioning. He probably wouldn’t even still be breathing. He trusts you, so whatever this is, he probably hasn’t processed it enough to rationalise it and verbalise it to you. The booze and drugs were a band-aid, something to help him try to cope with what we assumed was something his mother wrote to him in letters. And as much as I wish I had super-human powers, our legal system isn’t foolproof. Justin asked Clint to arrange someone to kill his mother. He wanted to pay him. So, he was desperate to stop her getting to him again. I thought she possibly threatened him in the letters and I still do think that. But I don’t think his response would’ve been so desperate and extreme if it was just that. I think something in the letters has triggered a memory of something he had suppressed. Rather than him being mentally stable to cope with that, he turned back to alcohol and drugs to drown it out, what he used to try to get her out of his head when she still had custody of him. I know this is going to be so hard for you to process, Sash, but I also know you’re strong enough to take it. The problem I have is that we can’t let this go beyond us, because I’ve left it in Clint’s hands. I was going to try to get Jus to open up to me about what was in the letters, but he deteriorated too quickly. Clint only came to see me that afternoon before your mates were over.”
“Good. I hope Clint fucking got the job done and I hope it was in the most painful goddamn way possible.” Sasha didn’t care where this was coming from inside him, because it wasn’t like him. But he meant every word, even if he felt sick hearing how much worse this all was than face-value. He knew as soon as Mark said this, that Justin never would’ve told him. Because he didn’t know how, or to protect him, or whatever other possible reason his severely mentally ill mind constructed for him at the moment. “What worse could he remember than she has already done to her own child? And what did she say to him in the fucking letters that brought it back? He has these massive gaps in his memory as a kid. He can’t even call it patchy. He told me he barely remembers his friendship with Kolbie. He only remembers that he felt safe with Kolbie, that they would play on his trampoline together. Hardly anything else. Why do people like Andi die and cunts like her get to keep living? I don’t get it, I fucking hate this world!” He got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He didn’t care if it was raining. Maybe that was why he got out, because getting wet matched how he felt and he needed to cool off. He felt nauseous and he was crying, when all he wanted to do was keep his shit together to help Justin however he needed. Even if that was not seeing him, or seeing anyone. When Mark followed him out of the car, Sasha lost his steam and slumped against the door. “I’ve taken care of my disabled dad since I was six and I watched my best friend die of cancer. Why aren’t I better at this?”
Mark had grabbed his umbrella from the car and put it up over both of them, leaning back against the door by Sasha. If the kid wanted to be out in the rain, he would be out here with him. But he wouldn’t let him do something silly like catch pneumonia or sit out here and believe he should be feeling guilty about his feelings. “Better than what?” he asked softly. He put his arm around the kid’s shoulders, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Mark, himself, was fucking churned up inside with a sick fear and worry about his son, but he was the parental figure here. He swore on his life to Sasha’s folks that when he came to live with them, he would take care of him as if he was their own. He knew he loved the kid as much as his own son and he was so proud he would one day call Sasha his son-in-law. Sasha needed to know it was okay to break here, and it was Mark’s job to hold his shit together until he got home and probably bawled his eyes out with Gen later on. “You’re in love with him, mate. It’s a different thing to what you faced with your dad and Andi. This is your heart on the line, with a very real terror Jus might die. He might. We have to face that, and it’s the hardest fucking thing in the world to accept. All we can do is try to keep him as safe as possible, but his life is a constant battle and we’re his allies. Don’t think you’re doing a shit job. There’s no score sheet here. There’s not essential criteria you have to meet. You just have to love him, especially on his worst days. And this other evil shit… I’ll get it sorted. Don’t worry about that part. She’s breached her sentence orders, and if she’s threatened to harm Jus, shit’s going to hit the fan. The way he’s responded, tipped over into a psychotic episode, I know she has. I just need to know how.”
“Mark…” Sasha inhaled deeply, like he was about to cough. The breath hitched and he leaned over to try to catch it. His chest felt like he had a stitch, but he knew it wasn’t really a physical pain. It was anxiety, stress and fear knotted up in his gut and heart. “W-Why does this feel harder than cancer? Why does it feel harder than… than my dad being quadriplegic? Do you know, I’ve seen him suicidal. I can tell when he is. I… I can’t explain it, I just have this sick heavy feeling in my gut when he hits that place. It changes from those general background suicidal thoughts he has that are just part of his illness to this fucking haunted look he gets in his face, his eyes. Not even the manic, or the depression. I know the difference. I’m used to taking care of him, I know what helps and I know how to just weather it. But this? The psychosis? I feel so fucking out of my depth and feel like if I make one wrong move, it’ll kill him. I know that’s my insecurity. I knew going into this how hard it would be. I respected that he was mentally ill and I did everything I could to educate myself with that, even though I knew my dad experiences it. But Justin was different. Everyone’s illness is subjective and I wanted to learn about it because I hoped it might make him feel that tiny bit less alone. He… he confides in me a lot. We talk so much. More than people realise, I think. When I said we’re intimate in other ways, that’s a big part of it. We just… talk, and hold each other. Sometimes we hold each other and don’t say anything at all, because some days, he hasn’t got enough words to fit how he’s feeling inside. And that’s okay too, because he’s beautiful and I see that no matter how sick he is. But when there’s absolutely nothing I can for him to take just a tiny bit of the pain away? I feel like I’m fucking failing him. There’s always been this thing that everyone, even him, has said about him not really being there when he’s psychotic. I believed it. I saw it in the hospital that night when he had that complete psychotic break. But he was still there this time. I’m not saying he wasn’t psychotic, I just don’t think he was separate from it. I think he was literally feeling hell, and when I think of him like that, can we really fucking blame him for taking Ice to try to switch it off? Or thinking about killing himself? He told me what he was about to do, Mark. I always knew Andi would have a peaceful death. But looking at Justin when he was psychotic and on drugs, I knew no matter what he did, it wouldn’t be peaceful. I don’t even know if I should be talking to you about this stuff or I should take Alec’s suggestion of getting a therapist myself.”
They stood there, both slumped against the car under the shelter of the umbrella, the rain starting to piss down harder. Mark didn’t make any move to get out of it. He would stand out here all night with the kid if he needed to. “Sash, I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t talk to me about what you’re going through with Justin. I’ve been there, but I’m also his dad. Even if he doesn’t always directly engage me, I know about everything he goes through and I know that sometimes, the best thing I can do for him is nothing. Because you’re already there for him doing it. My kids are the most precious things in my entire life, through every year I’ve existed on this fucking planet. I would not trust my my precious thing with someone I didn’t have complete faith in caring for him. But you’ll never be able to keep your head above water trying to do it alone, buddy. I haven’t been able to do it on my own, and I made him. I made him when I was completely drunk off my face with an evil cunt who would nearly extinguish that life we made. That’s my shit to deal with, and I will. I’ll have help with it too. Leave that part up to me. And one day, you’re going to marry that precious thing I created because you make him happy when he shouldn’t be capable of happiness after all he has survived. But you make him happy. You make him smile. And on the days he’s so sick, he can barely function, you’re there to hold him because that’s all you can do. I know it’s hard to accept that part, mate. I really do. But he’s alive because of you. You don’t have to talk to a therapist if you don’t want to. Hell, I don’t like therapy so much myself, but I go because I know Jus needs to know I’m getting help with my shit. You might find it easier to talk to me. Or Gen, or Sam, or your folks, or Zeke, or your other friends. Or maybe no one. Talking doesn’t always help. Sometimes, you might just need to get it all off your chest like you’re doing now. I’m here for you as much as I am for my son, okay? Because you’re just like a son to me by default.”
“I get worried my friends will start hating me if I don’t talk to them about all this stuff. I was just always a better listener, you know? Andi got that. We talked a lot, but not about what was bothering me. Towards the end there, I don’t think either of us wanted to talk about IT. Death. What it meant, how it might happen, what it might feel like. I stopped talking about how I felt about Dad too. At some point, I don’t know when. Because it stopped mattering how I felt after awhile. It became normal for us. Dad’s not abnormal to me. He’s not even sick. He’s… just different to most. We have to do things differently. But he’s still Dad to me. He’s never been anything else. Never been The Handicap, or The Quadriplegic. Not even The Race Car Champ. Just Dad. It’s all I ever needed him to be. All I ever needed Andi to be was was my best friend. Do you know all Justin ever needed me to be?” Sasha bit on his lip and nodded slowly, fighting the feeling hitting him to crawl into bed and sleep for a week without moving. His throat was choked with a lump of emotion, but he was used to its existence now. It just hurt knowing he couldn’t curl up with Justin. He was used to Justin being a hospital patient, but he knew this was an extremely different situation. “Me. It’s all he ever wanted. I do want to talk to our friends about it. But at the same time, I think some situations, talking won’t help, no matter how much you do it. I guess that goes against everything a shrink believes.”
Despite how hard today was, how hard the recent weeks had been, Mark smiled faintly at hearing Sasha talk about his dad. He knew they had an incredible father and son relationship, even if Martin was a quadriplegic. “No, I’d say shrinks probably believe better than anyone that talking can’t fix everything. It can’t even help some situations feel better. I can say that, I grew up with a bloke who would turn into a shrink. Look who he still has as a brother. Your friends aren’t going to start hating you or resenting you for not talking to them about this. That would indicate they had a sense of entitlement over your feelings, and they don’t. Maybe some kids do, but not your friends. They’ve proven that time and time again. They just want you to know they’re there. The same thing Jus wants off you, mate. Sometimes you have to stop and let it hurt. I think today is one of those times. I think as a father, though, and one who’s going to be your father-in-law some day, I think you can let it hurt at the same time as trying to get some sleep. Have you even had much in the last few days? I’ll keep in touch with Hunter about how he’s doing, but you’re allowed to call yourself too. Anytime you need an update. I made sure you were listed on all the forms. You’ll be okay if he refuses visitors?”
“I haven’t really slept. I really felt like if I did, I’d wake up and he’d be gone. I like to think Andi’s watching over him and keeping him safe. But I also know that if he really needs to go, she won’t stop him. She’d welcome him with open arms. I keep telling myself that, but it’s not really conducive to sleep. I don’t want her arms around him, I want mine. But I know he’d get upset if he knew I wasn’t sleeping well, so I’ll try. Can’t promise I’ll be any good at it…” Sasha pushed away from the car door with a deep sigh, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. It was a last-ditch attempt to try to get his tears to stop. Even if he managed it, he’d be doing it again soon enough. It might be the only way he could get through this. “It’s… it’s hard to process that he doesn’t want to live. I feel like a terrible fiance for feeling that too, because I told him I understand. And I do, I just I never want to let him go.”
Mark patted Sasha’s back. “Let’s get in the car and get you home so you can at least try to rest. If you’re heading for another migraine, I’d rather it be home than out in the rain to risk you coming down with something. Then he’ll lick me up the arse for not taking better care of you as soon as he’s well enough to think straight again.” He opened the door for Sash to get back in the car now the rain was really starting to come down. As he rounded the car back to the driver’s side, his gaze lingered on the main building of the hospital, hoping like hell his son was in just as good hands as last time. Of course, he had Justin in his care too long now to know nothing was ever a given, and new things could come to light. There was always a risk Justin could end up having a severe mental break he never truly bounced back from, and Mark knew if there was anything that heightened that risk, it was his cunt of a mother trying to force her way back into his life. Mark was absolutely fucking furious at her, but he had to keep that fire fanned down inside for the time being. His anger was secondary to the real issues here. “You want to know the worst-kept secret? I find it hard to process that he doesn’t want to live too, no matter how much I learn about his condition and why he goes through what he does. Because to process that means processing an acceptance of being able to let him go if the time ever came, and that’s not something I’ll ever be able to do. It took me a really long time to realise that he doesn’t need me to process it. He just needs me to respect it. He’s never asked any of us to accept it, because I know he doesn’t accept it himself. That’s why it’s such a terrible demon he battles so hard. If someone could slice into his brain and cut that piece of it out, I know he would authorise them to do it immediately, even if that risked his life too. And I know how happy you make each other, Sash. That’s why these harder times feel impossible to navigate. All this, it’s not because he’s mentally ill. It’s because his mother is a dangerous and vile piece of work, and the more I see her try to harm him, the more I’m convinced she at least has to have some sociopathic thread to her. I’m not entirely convinced I wasn’t a victim of it myself, but I was young and stupid back then, and if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have him. This time, though, she’s going to wish she sat back and accepted her prison sentence as a sign of mercy. I will not let her steal another moment of my son’s precious life from him again.”
Sasha buckled his seatbelt again and buried his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he was wearing, one of Justin’s official cast hoodies from Footloose. They shared clothes all the time, but these beloved items gave him comfort in times like this. He sunk down in the seat, feeling the belt pull tight over his heart, but it was nothing like the pressure his emotions were already applying to it. He watched the heavy rain pelting the windscreen, wishing he could just wind back to the last time Justin’s moods were balanced and they were cosied up in bed together, kissing and cuddling, enjoying each other’s quiet company without a care in the world. He missed the feeling of Justin’s soft, warm lips on his, even if it hadn’t been that long since they shared some tender kisses. He listened to Mark and then looked over at him, frowning in confusion when he wasn’t sure he put the pieces of what Mark just said together correctly. “You think she drugged you to sleep with her or something? You think if she did, it makes it okay just because you were young and stupid? Because that’s what people put Justin as down before he left Chicago, you know. A young, stupid loser making fucked up choices about his life. When he’s actually one of the most intelligent and smart people I’ve ever met in my life. Way beyond what can be learned from books or school. Because of what he’s been through. And I think maybe he’s a lot like you in that sense. Maybe you were drunk and turned her down, so she took matters into her own hands. Maybe that’s why she hates Justin so much, because she hates you. He looks just like you…”
Mark knew he had a lot of old wounds being pried open with this latest turn of events. All the guilt, all the self-interrogation he had to do when Justin fell seriously ill like this. Since Alec returned from posting overseas and had since exited the Army to be in private psych practice, Mark had spent a hell of a lot of time talking to him about this stuff. He had finally come to terms with the fact that his own late-diagnosis of cyclothymia contributed to a lot of things in his life, but would most certainly have had genetic impact on Justin being diagnosed Bipolar. But Alec was also absolutely adamant that even if Justin had genetic predisposition to this form of mental illness from their side of the family, it would have been exacerbated distinctly if his mother had abuse alcohol or drugs while she was pregnant with him. Even then, everything she did after she gave birth to him was more damaging than anything that came before his birth, especially genes. It had been Alec that really tethered Mark down during one difficult discussion and asked him directly if there was a chance the woman laced his drink or food, and sexually assaulted him, seeing as how little qualms she had leaving her son exposed to sexual assault as a child. It had been too hard for Mark to face at the time, but this latest turn of events was reopening old wounds. What the fuck had she said to Justin in these latest letters? She could feel the power of Sasha’s stare as if it had physical force. “There’s nothing she could do now, or has done in the past, that would surprise me. What I do know is that causing him to self-destruct in this way is the equivalent of attempted-murder in my book and I don’t sit back and let anyone harm my kids. But whatever that will ultimately look like, that’s nothing any of you kids need to be concerned about. We’ll take care of it. All you have to worry about, Sash, is taking care of yourself and just keep loving him. That’s the most powerful thing you can do for him. He forgets what love is during these times. What it really means. That’s where Will went wrong, kiddo. He stopped realising Justin always needed to keep being reminded of that in whatever way he could spare, no matter how small.”
“Is there really anything you can do to stop her, though? Like, that’s not going to hold up in court because she hasn’t tried to murder him. I know she broke sentence conditions, or whatever the fuck that means, but what happens? She gets a few more years on her sentence, and then tries again in six months time to write him more letters using some other dumb bitch’s name? What happens in six months time, Mark? When he spirals again when she tries something new, and he succeeds in committing suicide then? Can you really fucking keep him safe, or is it just all talk? Because talk is exhausting me. Every time I see him this sick, I feel like it’s only a matter of time because someone won’t just be in the right place at the right time to save him from himself. Be honest with me. I’m not a fucking kid, I can handle it. Is there really anything you can do but instigate some sort of wrist slap to stop her trying again for awhile before she hatches her next plan to get to him? Is that all his life is going to boil down to? Running for his life from her until her sentence ends and she’s free to hunt him down in person again?” Sasha’s voice was getting a little shrill when he emotions started to bubble up again. He was going to make himself sick if he kept freaking out like this. Being sick wouldn’t help anything, it would probably just make him feel more sick and useless than he already did. He at least knew in a closed ward, Justin would be safe from suicide. He was on suicide watch. That’s why he was admitted, and Hunter gave him the rundown of what that meant to reassure him Justin would be safe while he was in there. But it was temporary. They couldn’t lock Justin away in there forever. “Maybe you should just let Justin pay for the hit and be done with it. And I value being a good person, but I hope she dies, so he can be saved from this horrible terror.”
Mark had no intentions of filling the kid in on what his next move was going to be because he wouldn’t let him be tainted with informed knowledge of it. No matter how good a plan certain people could have - people he had complete faith in to get a job done - no plan was foolproof. It would need to be triggered from the inside, and he wasn’t letting anyone else, especially not Sasha or any of the other kids, get burned in translation. But Sasha wasn’t really a kid, he was right. He was a smart young man, and he was intuitive and cluey. Just like Justin. Mark knew he had to give him something here, even if some sturdy reassurance. He couldn’t treat him like he wasn’t smart enough to understand this situation in its entirety. But he couldn’t be furnished with incriminating knowledge of any sort. “I took care of the bloke that did this to him. I’ll do it again, too.” He cleared his throat and started the car up, albeit with great reluctance of having to drive away and leave his son here. “I know people who will put their lives on the line to save a kid. Especially a kid like Justin. Will you promise me if I get you home to your folks, you’ll try to get some rest? Because you being taken care of is just as important for his health and safety as any of this other stuff. You’re his world, Sash. He needs you, and he needs you separate from any of this bad shit. Not have you tainted by it too. Okay? Trust me?” He held his hand out to Sasha for him to shake, if the poor kid trusted him enough. He didn’t have to, and Mark wouldn’t blame him one bit if he couldn’t.
Sasha closed his eyes, feeling them burn like his retinas were made of razorblades. “Maybe after I puke my guts up, cry my eyes out in the shower, and stop choking on this lump in my throat, sure,” he mumbled and shook Mark’s hand. “I-I’m sorry… I just don’t know how I should be feeling right now. What I’m supposed to think. I can’t get my head around why anyone would want to hurt him, but so many people have tried. Why can’t they see what we see? He hasn’t done anything to deserve this torture. It’s the opposite, he does so much good people. I don’t get it.” The heels of his hands were pressed in against his eyes again, trying to block the urge to fall right back into crying. Maybe he really did just need to let it all come, but he would prefer to do it locked away in his room alone. He let out a ragged sigh, feeling that telltale throb started behind his temple. He wished he had the security of being able to shoot Justin a text to remind him he loved him, but the admissions doctor handed it to Mark for safekeeping as they couldn’t let Justin have access to anything potentially psychologically taxing, which is why they restricted who could visit him in the first week or so, if not longer. And, as it sounded like would be inevitable, only if Justin wanted the visitors. In the meantime, his care team would still have meetings with Hunter and his doctor at the hospital, and Sasha would be involved in those where he could, if he wasn’t in school. But exam time was looming. He felt like he was going to bomb out on everything. How the fuck could he focus on study when Justin was this ill?
“You don’t have to just get it, mate. You need to feel whatever you’re feeling, and that’s probably going to be awful and draining. Let yourself do whatever you need. I think having time with your folks and getting some rest while Justin’s inaccessible will do you a world of good. In a few days, it’ll feel a little easier to navigate. You’ll adjust and take each day as it comes. As corny as that sounds, it’s all you can do. Now, come on. You’re looking really rough. We’ll get you home. I can fill your mum and dad in on everything if you’re not up to it,” Mark offered, seeing how pale and washed out Sasha was. No doubt shock was still reverberating through him. You couldn’t just switch that off.
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