Chapter 5 The sad but beautiful truth.

JAMAL'S POINT OF VIEW

We managed to carry him in some room that has a wooden table for six surrounded by six chairs, and a few feet away there's a dark green sofa, where we lay him, and I, -unfortunately-, reluctantly let go of him, let go of his arm, which falls, touching the ground.

For reasons that I do not wish to discuss, I took his arm to place it on his broad chest, which moves as he breaths, and something got my attention.

A tattoo that goes along the inside of his forearm.

The date when we first met, when he rescued me from those bullies, is written in beautiful calligraphic numbers, which is followed by regular, strong heartbeats, then the date when I caught them together, but these numbers are ugly written and broken, and they are followed by erratic heartbeats which become further apart and smaller by every half an inch until it flattens.

"He didn't cheat on you, J.J...." Dee's voice enters my ears, and it took my brain some time to process what he said, but as much as I would want to, I can't believe him.

"Don't try to lie to me. I saw you!" I say through gritted teeth, still looking at the tattoo, as the tears that I fought so hard to keep inside, fall due to the feeling of betrayal that rips through my heart again.

"What did you see?" He asks, making me scoff in disbelief.

"Are you serious? Are you really trying to fool me?" I ask in an incredulous voice as I look him in the eye, really wanting to see if he has the audacity to lie to my face, and he does. He is fucking serious.

"What did you see?" He asks again, enunciating each word, and something in me snaps as I see them again as if they are in front of me.

"What I saw? What I fucking saw was you on top of him, kissing his neck, groaning... and the way he was holding your hips... I mean... he never fucking held me like that! And his voice! I heard him, it so hoarse with arousal... it was... what the fuck do you mean what did I see? Are you really that cruel?" I don't give a shit that my loud voice broke, or that I'm crying, I can't even find it in me to bother and hide from him because all I want now is to say what's on my heart.

"You were my fucking best friend, my fucking brother, Dee! And he... he was my entire fucking world! And you two... you... didn't even have the courtesy to fucking pull apart and look at me! I fucking hate you! Both of you! You fucking ruined me, you know that? You ruined me!!!" I yell between painful sobs, trying to get some fucking closure and tell him at least a part of what their betrayal did to me, and he looks at me with teary eyes, making me scoff in disbelief.

Now he's crying?

"We know what we did to you... but... I never thought that you'll buy that act. I mean, come on... you are his fucking reason to live... I told him that you won't believe it because you don't doubt his love for you, but he said that you will... and you did... I don't blame you though, because you didn't know a lot of things that he did for you, the sacrifices that he made just so you would have everything you need... but, J.J.... he would kill himself before he would betray you." My brain fights with my heart, which wants to believe him with every atom that it's made of, saying that Dee never lies, but I can't because my brain tells me that I don't know him, I never did, and neither did I know Tristan.

"I saw you... please don't lie... I should go." I barely whisper as I wipe the damn tears away, knowing that he won't tell me the truth.

"Did you see me actually kissing his neck? Think good." He asks as I let go of Tristan's hand, and I see that a bruise is forming where I held him, or better yet, squeezed, and I want to kiss it... but I manage to hold back and focus on what Dee asked me to do, and try to remember.

"Well... I... your head was in the crook of his neck! I guess that you weren't searching for treasures." I say sarcastically as I wipe the tears that won't fucking stop rolling, and try to live for another minute.

"You didn't see me kissing because I wasn't. My head was there to shield him from you, so you couldn't see his bloodshot and swollen eyes that he got from hours of continuously crying hysterically because he knew what he has to do, he knew that he will break your heart, that he will break his own heart. His voice was hoarse for the same reason, my groaning was because of his very fucking tight grip on my hips, which he took to ground himself. You know that when he's upset, angry, or anxious he fists his hands or grabs anything that he puts his hands on, and squeezes it until he destroys that unfortunate object, and then, my poor hips were the closest thing he got his hands on." Oh, God... is he? No... it can't... I know what I saw... but... is it possible --

"It was then, when he heard the door close shut when he had his first panic attack or anxiety attack, I don't know because he won't go to a doctor. Anyway, that was his first. I was scared shitless because he passed out, and I thought he died. The phone was downstairs, and I wanted to call the ambulance but decided to give him CPR, and thanks to God, before I got to give him mouth to mouth, I saw his pulse." I feel my entire body shaking with every word he says, even my heart is trembling, and my brain... there are so many thoughts, so many fights, voices...

"And it got so bad that I would have to buy rape drugs to put him to sleep 'cause he would wake up calling your name, then remember that you're gone, and have another one." He explains further, and... God... did he really? They didn't...?

Should I believe him?

Or not?

Maybe?

Is it possible?

"Do you know that he doesn't really like Vanilla milkshakes or cheeseburgers but he always ordered it because it was your second favorite, and eat only half so you would eat the rest? He was always big, J.J., so he could eat a damn cheeseburger, but he wanted you to be full, gain weight, be healthy. Or that that ugly ass jacket that he wore after he gave you his, had no fucking emotional connection, or what the fuck ever he said? He bought it from a guy with 10 bucks. Or that he didn't go to a fucking consult and take some treatment for his attacks, even though I told him to because he rather send--" He stops, shutting his mouth to stop himself from saying more, and I gesture for him to continue, but he shakes his head vigorously, like he used to, like a fucking kid.

"Please don't ask me to say more because I don't want to lie to you, but you can ask him..." He trails off with a small, hopeful smile, pleading with his dark eyes for me to talk to Tristan... but... God damn... he really did all that?

But then there's one question...

"Why? Why would he make me believe that he doesn't love me? That he just used me until he got you?" I ask, desperately seeking answers, reassurance, seeking for anything that could fix me in one way or another...

"You were supposed to go to Harvard, and the plan was that he would come with you, right?" He asks, and I nod as an answer.

"But his mom died, and he had to take care of his brother, Sean."

"I know that."

"And you got your rejection letter from Harvard." He air quotes the word rejection, confusing me, but before I get to ask why he continues.

"Letter that you ripped into pieces and threw it in your garbage can in your room. Letter that he found because he always cleaned your messy room, and guess what? He saw that it was actually a congratulation for being accepted, letter." My racing heart stopped abruptly as my brain started to connect the dots.

"God, J.J., he told me that the pain will blind you, but... I'm straight, dude... I mean--"

"If it's true... why did he do it? Why did he take the choice away from me?" I can't hide the anger in my voice, but I can't hide the slight relief either, and he smiles sadly.

"You still don't see how much he loves you..." I realize that he was talking at present, and my heart started racing again so fast that it made me dizzy.

"You want to say how much he loved me," I emphasize the word 'loved', and my heart stops again, my eyes land on Tristan, then look back at Dee, hoping that he'll contradict me.

Is it possible that he still loves me?

"Dude, he never touched anyone since then. I'm no doctor, but I think he developed a phobia because except for his kid, well, brother, his adoptive kid, who is Sean's boyfriend, and me, he doesn't even shake hands with anyone." He explains, and I don't even bother to hide the smile or the tears that are still rolling down my face to my neck, wetting my shirt.

But Dee's expression changed into a remorseful one as he continues talking.

"I'm sorry... but it was so hard to see him crumble day by day, that after one year, I tried to convince him to try and get over you, go on dates, and I got myself a black eye. The second year, on my birthday, I managed to convince him to come to a pub and celebrate with a beer, and I took him to a gay bar. Needless to say, I got myself a black eye again. The third year, I took back my keys from him, locked myself in the house, and called him. I avoided him for two days, but the phone didn't get away unharmed, and I had to buy him another one." Oh, sweet Jesus... my heart... if I didn't die by now, now I will.

"And you know why he reacted like that?" His eyebrows are raised and his eyes look at me expectantly, and I shake my head as a negative answer because I can't talk, I am fighting with the lump that's in my throat, trying to swallow it so I can breathe long enough to hear Dee out.

"Because he got angry that I even thought that he would want to get over you, that he would stain your memory, that he would let someone else touch him and wash away your touches and kisses." By now I'm sobbing, and the biggest weight is pressing against my chest as guilt overcomes me.

I tried to get over him.

"Hey, stop. I don't want you to pass out as well." He pleads as he comes and crunches next to me, rubbing my back soothingly.

"Why... didn't he come back... when... I had... money?" I ask between sobs of pain, and he sighs hard.

"Well... I did convince him to go and tell you the truth, even though at first he would say that you wouldn't believe him because what would he tell you? 'Bambi, now that you're rich I want us to be together?' But I explained things and he finally agreed. He packed his bags, bought a train ticket, and when I drove him to the train station, we saw a magazine with you and a guy on it... so... after he woke up from his attack, we went back home..." My breath stopped, and without realizing I started to pull on my hair, trying to feel the pain that I deserve for doubting him in the first place... and then... for being with someone else.

"I didn't... I never kissed... or let them touch me... Oh, God... what the fuck did I do? I... Oh, God!!! NO!" I scream as I sob, and I feel his big arms around me, and a soothing voice in my ear.

"He knew, J.J., he knew that you'll be with others... physically. But when he saw that you're in a relationship, he thought you forgot about him, and to be honest, so did I. You seemed happy--"

"I never had a relationship, Dee! I never spent more than a few hours with someone! The fucking Media... I never... Dee... please believe me... please..." I trail off because of the wrecking sobs and lack of air, and he tightens his grip on me.

"I believe you... but back then... you really seemed happy, and all he wanted, every sacrifice that he made, was for you to be happy, and he thought you were, and he didn't want to jeopardize your happiness even if that meant that he would suffer." Every word feels like a stab, like a punch, and... it hurts even more than the pain of him betraying me because now I'm the one that betrayed him, and a need to peel my skin off overtakes me as I feel dirty, and not any kind of dirty... the worst of them all.

"I'm... sorry, Tris... I'm so sorry... I'm sorry..." I kept repeating over and over again, even though he can't hear me.

"Let's go or you'll also have an attack," Dee pulls me off the ground, but I escape his grip and go to Tristan, and place my head on his big chest, as I used to, to hear his heartbeats, and slowly calm down.

"J., if he wakes up and sees you, he'll probably have another attack..." He trails off in a pleading voice, and with a heavy, unwilling heart, I let go, but not before I look at his perfect, flawless, face, and run my fingertips over his sexy scrub, admire the long and curved eyelashes, trace his chiseled jaw, and my thumb went by itself and brushed his plump lips, and through my blurry vision, I notice that he has a scar on his lower lip.

"He did it to himself when you came that day... you know... to control his sobs..." Dee explains in a sympathetic voice, and my heart aches and cries in pain while thousands of feelings invade me again, breaking and fixing me at the same time.

"Let's go... he'll wake up soon." Dee reminds me, and I reluctantly get up, but as soon as I did, I got dizzy, and black dots appeared in front of my eyes.

"Fuck! Are you gonna pass out too?" Dee asks worried and grabs me by my waist to keep me from falling.

"Wait..." I whisper as I try to regain my breath and vision, focusing on not passing out.

"I'm good..." Well, not good... I'm well... well enough to go out, and slowly walk towards my car.

"I want to talk to him," I state as I sit on the hood of the car, and he nods.

"But not now. First, go home--"

"I'm not going home! I want to talk to him face to face, not on the phone!" I almost yell, and he chuckles.

"Not in Massachusetts, here... at a hotel or something. You need time to get all this in, and... if you don't want him, if you don't love him, don't come back. I'll make an exception and lie to him, tell him that he hallucinated because it wouldn't be for the first time, so it won't be very hard--"

"He... hallucinated?" I ask in a soft voice laced with worry, and Dee chuckles humorously.

"That, and there wasn't one night since you left when he wouldn't dream of you. I even had to move in for a while because he would scare Sean by crying in his sleep, and screaming your name, so, I would sleep on the ground and wake him up." I really don't know how I look right now, but after the sympathetic look in Dee's eyes, I would say that I look like shit.

I feel that my eyes are swollen, my nose is stuffed, my head hurts, but not like my heart... there's no physical pain that can reach this level of emotional pain.

"But hey, there were also good nights when I had to evacuate the room." He says with a smile, wiggling his eyebrows, trying to make me feel better, but all he does is confuse me.

"Why?" I voice my confusion, and he rolls his eyes playfully.

"Because of the moans...?" He replies in a teasing voice, leaving room for interpretation, and a wildfire takes over my body as I realize what he means.

"Oh, after the look on your face I would say that you also had those kinds of dreams..." He trails off, wiggling his eyebrows again, and making me smile a bit.

"You're still a pervert," I accuse more or less jokingly, trying to change the subject, and he looks at me in mock disbelief, barely restraining himself from laughing.

"I am the pervert? You're the ones that dream about fucking and shit like that, not me!" He exclaims loudly, looking at me as if he's hurt and flabbergasted, and I quickly look around to see if someone heard his loud teasing, and to my relief, no one did.

"You haven't changed one bit, did you?" I ask with a smile, and he shakes his head as in no, but then, his cheerful expression turns into a sad one.

"About changing... Tristan did. He's not the same cheerful and smiling Tristan that you remember... he's just... a shell of what he used to be. The only times he smiles genuinely and wholeheartedly, are when he's with his kids, or when he talks about you." I want to tell him to stop telling me these kinds of things because it hurts like fuck, but I also want to hear them, hear the reassurance that he offers with each painful word, so I let him continue.

"You know... he glued the acceptance letter and framed it, he has pictures with you and him all over the house, he never moved in the master bedroom, he still sleeps in his room, and he didn't change anything in it, not even the drapes, not even that shity bed." At the mention of his bed, for the first time in 10 years, I see US on it, not them... us laughing, him tickling me, making plans... making love... falling asleep wrapped in his big arms... I see... us...

"When can I see him?" I ask in an anxious tone of voice that makes Dee smile comically big and clap his big hands.

"Yes, yes, yes! So, I would say in a couple of hours. But first, please think good, I don--"

"When?" I ask again because there's no way in Hell that I'll change my mind.

Yes, a part of me is still angry for taking the choice away from me, but it's overshadowed by the love and relief that occupies the rest of my being.

"Well, we'll finish work at 5 P.m., so, around 7. Give him time to truly realize that you were here, that you want to talk to him, that he'll see you." His words sent another jolt of pain through me because I know I'm the reason why he suffered all these years just because I doubted him... because I tried to get over him... because of me...

"Ok. I'll call an Uber and go to some Hotel until then. Here is my phone number, call me if something happens." I plead, afraid that maybe something will happen to Tris if he is as bad as Dee says.

"I will. Now I have to go to him because he'll panic if he's alone." I nod, not being able to talk, and not wanting to talk because I know that the jealousy in me will take over.

"It's gonna be alright, J., you'll take all our places if you want to." He says as if he read my mind, making my heart skip a beat, but for the first time, it doesn't hurt, not in a bad way anyway.

"Ok," I admit my jealousy, and he chuckles and shakes his head in amusement, then wraps his big arms around me and hugs the life out of me.

"I fucking missed you, man!" He exclaims as he tightens his grip on me, and all I manage to do is groan a pained me too, making him laugh and let go.

"And I didn't look at you because I was also crying. It hurt, man... your pain, his pain... you are both my brothers, and seeing you like that, hearing that pain... it was hard and fucking painful." His emotional shaky voice comes with tears that fill his eyes, then roll down his cheeks, but he wipes them fast, probably because he saw the tears in my eyes and he doesn't want me to break down again.

"Yeah... it was..." I trail off, not wanting to remember that pain, and we both swallow hard, then nod as if we understand each other, and without a word, he turns and goes, and I go inside my car to take my wallet from the glove compartment.

My breath stops and I freeze when I see my watch, the one I gave to the homeless guy, and the money, on the passenger seat together with the Santa hat.