WARNING!!!!!! THIS IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART OR WHATEVER IF YOU DO NOT LIKE DARK PLOTS GO AWAY! THERE IS ALL KINDS OF STUFF MENTIONED THAT YOU MAY NOT LIKE. THIS IS A FOREVER FOLKED STORY. SO YOU SHOULD KNOW TO EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED. IF YOU DO NOT HEED THE WARNING, WHICH IS MOSTLY ALL WARNINGS, AND THEN ARE UPSET AND ANGRY AT WHAT I WROTE. I WILL TELL YOU NOW THAT I WILL NOT CARE. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. DAMN GOOD ONE. SO GET OVER IT. THEY’LL BE TOGETHER AT THE END. BUT RIGHT NOW BRIAN AND JUSTIN ARE GOING THROUGH THEIR LEVELS OF HELL. LOVE TO MY DEVOTED READERS.- Rory Harold
 
The first three hours that Justin and his baby, his son, were gone, Brian's face was smashed against the door. It looked almost like he was trying to peer through it. His eyes remained open, but he wasn't seeing a thing. His fears and hopes were blinding him, beating through his brain and crushing any rationale or reality.
Shock was too nice of a word for what the man felt, though that seemed to be the state he was in. Devastation would describe where Brian was more accurately, but that was even too much of an emotion. Pain. The simplicity of that word was the extravagance of his being.
When Brian's legs could no longer hold the position he fell to his left side, the impact jarring him from his unreality. 

Brian P.O.V.

I don't see the fall, only feel the well-received pain on the left side of my face. I can barely move my legs, the limbs are numb and I'm not really sure why. I'm so fucking disoriented. I bring my hand up to my face and I'm startled to see it's covered in blood. Oh shit! What happened? Where am I? 
I don't really feel hurt anywhere else, but then again I don't really feel my body. I force myself to flip over onto my stomach and I have to close my eyes because I'm dizzy from the movement. When I open them I'm staring into the kitchen. And that's when every thing comes back to me. Oh no God!!! 
Image upon Image of the last months pour into my mind. 
"Come on Brian. Fuck Me! I'm so horny." A blond is giggling and smiling at me. His naked ass retreating away from me down the hall.
"I want you so much right now." The same blond is lying beneath me. Me between his spread legs, his small belly covered in cum. His fingers dancing through it. "Briiiaan?" His blue eyes darken to almost black as he says my name.
Justin. Is that who he is? My head feels like it's splitting open. 
"Do you want to watch Sleeping Beauty with me?" The boy says. 
"Sure." I hear my voice say.
He takes my hand in his. "I love the part at the end when the dresses change colors!" His eyes are now a sparkling blue and they seem so joyful.
"I've never seen it." I tell him softly. The pain of my childhood assaults me, marching along with all of these jumbled memories.
He stares at me. "Well I've never seen A Street Car Named Desire, so I guess that makes us even." He laughs.
The pain has lessened. My eyes are squeezed shut, but I can't stop them from coming.
My face is buried in blond pubes. A long, thick, tasty cock slides in and out of my throat. Looking up I see him with his head thrown back, his hips moving back and forth, smashing my nose into the nest of curls every few seconds.
Through all of this I actually feel my cock harden. 
"What word turns you on the most?" The blond asks.
Oh and this memory. My God! He rimmed me for what had to be hours after I told him. 
"Boypussy." I whispered into his hot little ear.
I was his teacher in some way. I still am not sure why. It's all so mixed up. I know something really bad happened and that's why I'm here. But, I don't want to face it. So I keep my eyes shut as my body jolts with the power punches of memory.
"I love you Justin." I'm holding the blond from behind. We are both naked and our hands are clasped on top of his now large belly. We can feel the baby moving around for the first time together. It's the most amazing thing I've ever felt. 
The amount of happiness we are sharing in that moment surpasses any good or bad feeling I had ever had in all my life. I remember that day, that moment. I now know that this young man was my life. I fucking loved him. 
"Hello little baby." My ear rests against skin. A hand combs through my hair over and over as I gently lie staring at the rippling flesh. 
That was my voice. MY BABY!!! And that's when it all comes back. 
My eyes shoot open and I can't catch my breath. I bolt upright and look again toward the kitchen. That's when I see that there is blood all over the floor. It seeps into the carpet in the living room. That's my lover's blood! My...my...my child's blood! 
They took them! They wouldn't help him. I tried to help Justin and the baby. My little boy. He was so tiny and frail. His skin covered in that slippery white stuff. But he was born too soon.
And Justin! He was hurt. He had the baby....here....on the floor. I delivered him! But he wasn't breathing and neither was his father! I couldn't help either one of them!
I can fully grasp everything that has happened up until this point now, but I really don't want to. It doesn't matter now. I can't change a fucking thing and each and every damn detail is burned into my soul.
These fucking asshole's that brought us here! They didn't help my babies! They let our baby die! And I don't know whether or not Justin is okay. He was so fucking gone before the baby even came all the way out. His body’s natural instincts pushed him into this world the last little way.
The anger that takes a hold of me gives me a burst of strength. Yet all I want to do is fall down and scream and cry! I want to beg 'God' to just tell me! Tell me if Justin is alright. In my heart I know that our child was truly gone. He was gone before he ever breathed a breath of this stale air.
My stomach lurches when I try and take a deep breath. My nostrils flare begging for clean air and that only served to beckon the rancid smell swirling throughout the apartment to embed itself into my body. I can't stop myself from retching in that moment. 
The smell of death is assaulting. It crawls slowly through anything good inside me until I am coughing on the last remnants of half dissolved pasta. It hangs from my lips that are now inches from the floor. I wipe at the string connecting my insides to the ground, barely noticing the smelly blood stained tool ending the momentary devastation.
I'm crying and sobbing like a fucking baby! Wherever that surge of strength was, is now surely gone again. All I want to do is die! Die like my child died. Die like Justin! No.. no.. I can't believe he's dead. He could be alright. I can't think that way! That will only lead to the death of hope. So I continue to squeal like a stuck pig at all the fucking injustice hammered onto me. I manage to roll my body away from the mess and fall onto my back on the floor.
No more crying. But then. I am deaf by the silence. 
To fill the void I start to mumble his name. "Justin. Justin. Justin." Over and over, until my brains doesn't even register the sick sound of nothingness.
Alone. I am. But as long as my lips breathe his name I think I still have him with me. He still has a chance, even if it is with out me. "Justin."
I feel so fucking weak. I am weak. And it seems like my entire body is moist and sticky with bodily fluids that aren't meant to be sprayed from one loved one to the next. My naked shaking form is covered in it all. I feel used. More than ever. "Justin." The skin on my bones only serves in the propaganda for the turmoil that has encompassed my life the last few hours. "Justin." This all is weighing me down and I wonder if I could drown on the soft carpet of the living room floor.
No! I won't! I have to stay positive. "Justin." No, that's the wrong word. There is too much grief, guilt and fright within me to stay any one way. Let alone positive. I settle on thinking of Justin again. When have I truly stopped? "Justin." I did though. "Justin." His beauty, and I curse myself for even a moment of forgetting him. What the fuck happened? I have to save him somehow. "Justin."
He's going to come home. "Justin." Those people will help him. He won't die. It would be in their best interest to keep him alive so that they can continue on with their fucking plan. Oh, and what will it be now? Will we have to do this all over? "Justin." Whatever the fuck it is. I'll go along with it. As long as I am with him. "Justin." As long as I can help him. "Justin." And I'd take that plan right now. I'd fucking own it! Every fiber of their devious plot of torture. If it would give me Justin back! "Justin." I don't want anyone but him, ever. He will be home. Here with me. "Justin."
Me! The Bastard that did this to him. I have to stop making this about me. It's about..."Justin." Stop the self-pitying. There will be time for that later if it is needed. Right now I have to concentrate on… "Justin." My man, my lover, the father of my child. "Justin." 
I may not be able to help him from here. But if they bring him back I have to be here, and be strong for him. And he certainly can't come home and see me like this. "Justin." Though, I have this disgusting feeling that he won't be home for awhile. And when he does, he will probably hate me. "Justin."
I take that anger and guilt and push it into the smallest of things that seem so deliriously large. That would entail me getting my arms and legs moving again. I get up on my knees and crawl over to the reddish-browned sticky carpet. "Justin." I have to get rid of it. 
Pins and needles try and stop me from rising to my feet. I refuse to acknowledge them after the first stabs of pain in my legs. "Justin." I brace my self on the living room side of the bar while I get my bearings. I focus on the broom closet in the back of the kitchen.
My bare feet avoid the blood with out me even looking down. A survival technique I think my brain should never have had to instil in them. "Justin." As soon as I make it to the closet I take out a mop and try my best to not think about what I am about to do. 
Clean up the evidence of my child's life. And death. And possibly…"Justin."
Going through the motions blindly yet so fucking perfectly I wonder if I am dead and not human.