Listening to Dust Read Online Free PDF Page A

protect Dustin from his own demons and wishing that Dustin would open the bloody hell up so he could help him instead of watching him suffer.  
    For Dustin it appeared to be a slow awakening to what potential he had inside and how much of it he would allow to be shared.  
    “This is the result of the last conversation I had with my mother,” Dustin finally replied. He turned to the window, his hand automatically coming up to caress the scar.  
    Stephen let out a silent groan and bumped his forehead against the pantry wall. Afraid that, once again, his prying had laid waste to the simple pleasures they had shared during the day. But, in for a penny, in for a pound; he could either move forward with it or drop it completely and let Dustin wallow. If he did that, it was probable that he wouldn’t see Dustin for a week or more. “Do you... want to talk about it?” he asked gently.  
    Dustin didn’t answer right away. He stood staring out at the city as the rain stroked the window pane and continued to slowly caress the scar on his chest. Swish, swish, swish. Back and forth. Back and forth. The slight noise as he moved his fingers was almost hypnotic.  
    “My brother’s funeral,” Dustin answered after a few moments. “Andrew. It happened when we buried my brother Drew.”  
    He paused and cut his eyes to Stephen again, his sharp glance chipping at Stephen like a challenge. “That’s when we broke,” Dustin continued. “She broke, I broke; we all just goddamn broke. And the wonder boy Drew was dead. The ultimate broke.”  
    Dustin shifted his gaze back to the window, hiding most of what Stephen would see in his eyes. Or maybe he was hiding from what he would see in Stephen’s eyes. Stephen wasn’t sure.  
    “I did it myself,” Dustin said after a vocal sigh, “...tried to rip my heart out and put it in that bitch’s hand just to hear her tell me once, just once , that she loved me.”  
    He was silent for a moment, lost in the memory as Stephen straightened himself off the pantry wall and began a slow move in his direction. He really wanted to rush over and comfort Dustin right at that instant, but he knew that if he intruded any further, as he had done in the past, all Dustin’s old horrors could come back up and be used as a lash to drive him back.  
    “She looked right through me,” Dustin continued, the window panes in front of him all but humming with suppressed emotion. “Then she got up and walked out while I dug my fist into my chest and screamed at her.”  
    He shrugged and sighed deeply, almost as if releasing something within himself. “I couldn’t compete anymore, Stephen. You can’t compete against the dead. Once Drew was gone her only reason to stick around was gone with him, and she left,” he said, shrugging once again.  
    “I guess I just wanted to know if she ever had any feelings for me,” Dustin added as Stephen came up behind him and reached out to offer some comfort. “Turned out she didn’t. I was just ignorant enough to hope otherwise,” he finished.  
    He turned and looked at Stephen fully, his face a beleaguered furrow that begged him to stop with the questions. “Can I borrow a shirt?” he asked quietly.  
    Stephen dropped his arm immediately and backed off. “Of course, let me get a few towels too. We’re still dripping all over the floor.” He forced a smile and went to the cupboard to grab a couple of towels and then pulled an extra shirt from the wardrobe.  
    He came back and stood holding the shirt and towel out to Dustin. “I’m sorry, Dustin. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s...”  
    “... habit. Yes, I know,” Dustin finished for him. He grabbed the towel and cupped Stephen’s face with his other hand, brushing against the soft stubble that had risen.  
    There was something in Dustin’s eyes...recognition maybe? A small realization?  “I...” Stephen began.  
    “Shhh,” Dustin said as he rubbed his thumb across Stephen’s lips.