Continuance
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CHAPTER 1: 1
Trevor awoke with a jerk, reflexively reaching towards the blaring phone on his bedside table. The clock glowed 2:31am in fluorescent green. Telephones ringing in the middle of the night always scared him; the result of seeing too many turgid melodramatic movies on the BBC. "Oh, sod it," he muttered hoarsely as he knocked the portable phone off its cradle.
Finally grasping the receiver, he clicked on. "Yeah?" Silence. He was about to hang up, when heard a long slow emotion-filled intake of breath from the other end. "Trevor, it's.... it's.... John."
John. In a millisecond, Trevor scanned his internal rolodex for all the Johns he knew or, at the very least, all the Johns he knew that would be calling him at 2:31 in the morning. He couldn't think of one guy named John that was close enough to him to do that. Except, of course, his little brother. Suddenly, he panicked, and spoke almost harshly. "John," he said roughly, "what in the bugger are you calling me in the middle of the night for?" He was instantly sorry for the tone of his voice, and hoped he hadn't sounded scolding. After all, he hadn't seen or talked to John - let alone his Mum and Dad - in 3 years. He shook off the memory.
"Sorry, you just gave me a bit of start," he said, softening his voice. "Is anything wrong?" Trevor didn't know how to talk to John. He didn't know whether to be concerned, or angry, or exactly how to feel now that he had a member of his immediate family on the phone after all this time. Two years ago he had started counseling to cope with his anger towards his family, and his counselor had cautioned him about transferring anger onto his little brother, to realize he was really most angry with his parents. He'd thought about that a lot, and now knew, after hearing John on the phone, that he bore no ill will towards the kid that used to drive him crazy.
"Uh, I need....well...," and then John completely dissolved, sobs coming over the receiver, so wracking and hard that it scared Trevor, scared him even more than being awakened out of a sound sleep by the bleating of the phone. At once Trevor became the big brother.
He cleared his throat. "Where are you, John...now calm down, calm down...breath...and tell me where you are." He kept his voice calm, reassuring, and... well, brotherly. John finally was able to manage that he was at the train station located in Trevor's London neighborhood, only about 15 minutes walk from his flat. After making John promise to find a bench to sit down on to collect himself, Trevor hung up, threw on the first thing he picked up when he reached into the dirty clothes hamper, and rushed out the door, not even combing his hair. He took his building stairs two at a time, and started a sprint.
As Trevor hurried, it occurred to him that he might not even know John when he saw him. Granted, it had only been three years, but a lot of changes can take place in three years. Trev remembered John as a somewhat gawky 14 year old kid, full of himself. Although John had driven him bonkers as only little brothers can do, Trevor, in his heart of hearts, loved him dearly, and couldn't get to him fast enough.
He found his little brother sitting on a bench in the waiting area. Eyes cast downward, John didn't even see his brother walk up to him. When he saw Trevor's feet in front of him, he slowly lifted his head so his gaze met his brother's. "My god," Trevor thought to himself, "what in fuck is going on?" John's eyes were almost swollen shut from crying, red and watery.
He slowly stood and faced his big brother. "You okay?" Trevor said gently. His arms encircled John and they hugged, the two gay sons of Raymond and Emma Dixon.
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