anger and booze. — adrian and zedekiah

what part

of living

tw for posts in this thread: child abuse, alcoholism

You've always hated your father. He's never treated you right, but there's really nothing you can do about it. Despite being eighteen, he won't let you move out. He threatens you whenever you bring up the idea. That's why you have to have other outlets: other ways of forgetting about what happens at home.

Plus, you need a way to cover up what really causes the scars.

That's why you train as a career. You want them to think that that's what the scars are from, even though there's no way in hell that that's true. Sure, some of the scars might be from that, but most of them? Not so much.

You also have other ways of coping with the abuse. You drink. A lot. Most days, you at least have a couple beers, and at least try to get a buzz going. Other days, you drink enough to make yourself stagger-around-the-room drunk, or somewhere in between. It's all just a way to mask what's really going on in your life.

Before training today, you drank a beer in the locker room. The trainers there have learned not to scold you for it, even though it's technically not allowed. Even if they did scold you for it, though, it wouldn't really matter. You like to cause trouble. You just don't like the way your father's punishments go. Anyone else's punishments you encounter are much more tame, so they don't really faze you.

Training went well. You sparred with a guy your age, practicing hand-to-hand combat. You definitely did better than he did, too.

After training, you went back to the locker room, changed, and although tempted to down another beer on your way out, decided against it. Maybe it was for the best. The smell of alcohol was already on your breath, and you knew you needed to cut down. It wasn't the best coping mechanism. Today you would be better about it. Although, that didn't say anything for tomorrow.

On the way out of the training center, a guy you recognized caught up with you and asked if he could talk to you about something. His name was Adrian. You'd barely spoken to one another before, but you were familiar with who he was. You raised an eyebrow at him. Why did he want to talk to you?

"Uhh, I guess so," you said to him. "Did I do something?" you joked with a slight laugh. You'd be nice to him, as long as he didn't cross any lines or get on too many nerves. You were a bit irritable today, as you often were, but the least you could do was try to be friendly.

says you

gotta die

what part

of living

The kid took a breath before he spoke to you, like he was preparing himself to say something he didn't want to say. Instead, however, it was followed by a chuckle and a joke, at least at first. He joked that you were in big trouble, and you rolled your eyes in response, yet a smirk remained on your face. He hadn't exactly annoyed you, at least not yet, so it was more of a playful eyeroll than an annoyed one.

Then came the lecture.

Adrian decided that it was his place to tell you not to drink. That it "smells like piss" and is "really fucking bad for you". You were about to say something in response, but he continued on. He'd started to really get on your nerves now. The initial joke was fine: this bullshit, not so much.

He told you it wasn't the first time he'd smelt it on you. He asked if you were okay. You clenched your fist in response. You didn't need this guy telling you what to do. You didn't need him telling you what not to do, either. You just didn't need this guy around right now. Why the hell had you agreed to talk to him, exactly?

You gave absolutely no fucks about this guy's opinion, but of course, he had to throw it at you. Usually, when someone wants to talk to you, you try to avoid it because of things like this. You hate this type of situation. Sure, people can call you out on certain things and you won't bat an eye. The only things that bother you when people call you out are a) things you actually feel guilty about, like when you accidentally helped a dude cheat on his boyfriend without realizing it, and b) this shit.

You don't feel guilty about the alcoholism. Rather, you find it to be your best coping mechanism, and you really would rather not give it up. You know it's not healthy, sure, but it's the best you've got aside from the career training. You stop walking and turn to look at him sternly.

"Look, dude, first of all," you start, "You do sound like a parent, and it's fucking obnoxious."

You raise an eyebrow at him.

"Secondly, why do you care so much about how and what I'm doing? It's not any of your business."

You don't let him respond yet, just like he had done to you.

"What goes on outside of here is my business, and mine alone. No one ever cares about my life, so I feel like if you're asking, you're probably the one with some sort of problem."

You'd let too much slip, you were afraid. You mentioned that no one cared about your life, which definitely indicated that something was wrong.

Well, shit.

says you

gotta die

what part

of living

Adrian places his hand on your shoulder, you give him a second, realize it makes you uncomfortable, and push it away. You've always felt awkward around physical touch, perhaps because the only physical touch in your family is violent. You stare at him for a second, and listen to what he has to say. You try to not sound like too much of an asshole with your next set of words, but while you appreciate that he's trying to be kind and helpful, you're still frustrated.

"Look," you say. "I don't appreciate you butting in… but…" You trail off for a second, and try to tell yourself to be kind. It only half-works.

"I suppose you're not really trying to do anything wrong. It's just that it's a bit frustrating. I don't like talking about the reason I drink and the reason I train, alright?" Your words still have a bit of a snap to them. You're still angry.

You take a deep breath to try to calm yourself down.

"I mean-" you pause. "I'm sorry. I am being an asshole. I'll admit that, and it's not even because of the alcohol this time- I haven't had much today. I'm trying to be better- at least a little bit."

You can't believe you've actually managed to turn this conversation around a little bit. You wish there was someone to be proud of you for that, but you honestly don't know if anyone would care. Perhaps your brother would. He's the only one you know who typically shows a shred of decency toward you.

Zeph has always been respectful toward you, and perhaps even kind, if you want to use that word. You care about him, and you feel like he'd be glad you're attempting to be somewhat nice to someone other than just him for once.

You gesture toward a bench.

"Want to sit for a minute? We can talk," you offer. "About what's going on, I suppose. If you want to."

says you

gotta die

what part

of living

You and Adrian sat down on the bench, giving each other a little bit of space, which you appreciated. You'd never really been one to get up cozy with other people, which was the same reason you avoided his hand on your shoulder earlier, despite it being an attempt at a kind gesture.

Kind gestures weren't something that you were used to. They were strange: foreign, even. Your mother had been kind, but she walked out on your family several years ago because of your father. She tried to take you and Zeph with her, but she wasn't allowed to. Your father has always been the opposite of kind. He's mean: cruel, rather.

He's abusive. He hits you and kicks you. He does the same to Zeph. You wish you could prevent the beatings from happening to Zeph altogether. You would take it a thousand times over if you could just protect him. Of course, you'd much prefer if he never laid a hand on either of you.

Adrian started to open up to you, and you listened intently. His reasoning for opening up was so that you were more comfortable doing the same if you wanted to. Until he actually explained what was going on in his own home, you weren't sure if you would share what was going on in yours. Now, however, it seemed like the important thing to do.

You hear him mention that his mother died, and his father became abusive. He said that he felt like he lost two parents in one. You knew what that felt like, too. You didn't lose a parent to death, sure, but your father started to become abusive (when you were about two years old) which was like losing him, and then your mother left, which was a way of losing her.

Although, you suppose you never really had much affection from your father. He never really cared about you, at least not once your mother started insisting he help take care of you. Then his anger started. He'd never wanted kids, but you and your brother were both an accident. He wanted nothing to do with the two of you. Perhaps that's where his cruelty came from, or perhaps it's buried somewhere deeper inside.

Adrian promised that whatever was said here wouldn't leave the two of you, and you nodded to show that you both understood and agreed. You took a deep breath, and tried to muster up the courage to share your own story.

"I know how you feel," you began. "My father has been abusive for as long as I can remember, so it was like I never really had a father figure in my life. At least, not one who cared. Quite a few years ago, my mother walked out on my dad, but she wasn't allowed to take my brother and I with her. My father threatened her about it. He said that he'd do some pretty scary things if she tried."

You paused. You weren't sure if you should continue, so you looked at Adrian for a moment in a concerned way before you kept going.

"It really is so fucking hard to deal with- and I know it's a terrible coping mechanism and that it'll probably eventually be the end of me, but I picked up drinking as a way to numb the pain and try to forget the way my life really is."

You feel nervous about saying this next part, but you feel that getting it off your chest would help, so you continue.

"I mean, maybe I should just stick to the training as a coping mechanism, sure. It's healthier for me, and it disguises the scars. It's just not enough, though. I need something more than that. Something to distract me better."

You then realize you've said so much that you're afraid he might stop listening. You've never really had anyone to talk to about this stuff, so you suppose that must be why you've started to ramble.

"Sorry if I'm talking too much. It's just- I really appreciate having someone to talk to for once."

says you

gotta die

what part

of living

He thanked you for telling him all of what you said, and then made a joke about some of his friends with a chuckle. You gave a weak smile. His laugh was... nice. Can a laugh be attractive? You wonder. If so, Adrian's laugh is. There's just something about it.

You weren't seriously thinking of starting something like that with this guy, were you? No, you couldn't be, right? Your last relationship was what, a whole year ago? No one wanted anything to do with you once you started drinking as much as you did. Surely this guy wouldn't either, especially given his home life.

You shook the thought from your mind.

Then, he asked you what you wanted to do. He wanted to know if you had the desire to talk more, or if you'd rather listen. Or perhaps if you wanted to go do something like training or going for a walk to get their minds off of things. Then, he said he wanted to ask you one more question.

"Sure, go ahead. Then we can decide what we want to do," you told him.

You wondered what the question could possibly be. Was he going to pry into your home life a bit more? You supposed that would be okay, although a bit uncomfortable. You'd shared pretty much all you wanted to in that moment, but maybe he could get more out of you.

You looked at him, ready to listen to what he had to say.

says you

gotta die

what part

of living

As you listen to his question, it catches you a little off-guard. He asks how you know if you're gay. What prompted him to ask you, in particular? Maybe he just has a really good gaydar. That'd be nice to have, you think to yourself. It would make finding other gay guys so much easier.

He explains to you what he's thinking. His comparison of girls to paintings made sense to you, even if it was a bit humorous when he said the words "I don't want to fuck a painting". You didn't laugh though. You didn't let yourself show any expression of amusement. You were here to try to help him now, as he'd tried to help you.

"Well, for starters, I totally get thinking girls can be pretty but not being interested in them. I'm the same way. It took me a while to figure out that I'm gay. I dated girls, but realized I didn't want to after a while. Then I dated a guy, and, well, it just felt right."

You thought about the fact that Adrian mentioned his interest in another guy. It was a sign to you that you should try to drop any interest you were starting to have in him. You didn't want to cause trouble by butting in, and that was saying something, as you often liked causing trouble.

"I can't tell you what you are or aren't, as that's for you to figure out, but if you really want my opinion, I think you probably are. Of course, sometimes you just have to take some time to think about it, and decide how you feel. It can be tough. It took me a while, as I said, but the first time I kissed a guy? I just knew."

You remember that first guy you kissed. You were both fifteen, and he kissed you when you were both just sitting in the grass, chatting with one another. You remember the feeling of your face getting flush and red, and that stupid, happy grin that formed.

It was one of the best feelings.

says you

gotta die

what part

of living

Now that you think about it, you definitely think that what you said to Adrian was out of line. Just because you knew you were gay when you kissed a guy doesn't mean that he has to kiss a guy to know. Sometimes you just know anyway. To be fair, you had at least somewhat of a feeling that you were gay before you got to the point of kissing a guy, or you probably wouldn't have done it to begin with.

You decided it was best to just forget the subject, though, especially when Adrian commented on it, saying that he was pretty sure that the guy he was interested in was straight. Plus, Adrian's face looked red, and he seemed eager to switch conversation topics, so you obliged.

He reminded you that earlier he had given some options of what they could do. Now, he'd narrowed down the options to either going for a walk or training. You weren't entirely sure which he'd prefer, but you knew which one was standing out in your mind. You wanted to train. You wanted to use it as a way to forget all the thoughts that were buzzing about in your head right that moment. You wanted to focus on other things. It was that, or you'd end up just going home and drinking, even though you really didn't think it was a good idea to do so.

Besides, should you really drink so soon after Adrian had just opened up to you about his concerns surrounding it for you? Probably not. That's why training was the better option. So, you spoke up, and you told him.

"Maybe we could train?" You suggest. "I'd love to see what you'd say you're best at. That, and maybe you can teach me a few things. I usually focus in hand to hand, so maybe something new to focus on could be nice. If you focus on other things, that is."

You give a weak smile. You still feel like a jerk for the way you worded things to him, but you try not to think about it too much. You just want to spend some time with your new friend, without any drama to get in the way of it all.

says you

gotta die