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:Intro:
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The streets were dark and empty...long, glistening stretches of asphalt... lights shivering in their puddled reflections.
The tall blond slipped past silent shadows. Polish bakery, gutted swap shop. The paint peeled remains of a thrift store. He knew them all in the dark.
Yellow, red.
Stepping off the curb. Balmy summer wind tugging at one's clothing. Faint squish of wet sneakers. A dog barked somewhere, in the distance.
This was home.
For better or worse.
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He was late. Not that it was a particularly unusual occurence. His dad would scream a lot. Throw something at him; he could outrun the man unless he was cold sober.
It started to rain again, in earnest. A faded hoodie didn't do much to stop the damp wetness seeping through.
"Hey, kid. What you got?"
He knew enough to keep his eyes averted. The icy mask slipped over his features, sang-froid as natural as breathing.
Home again.
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Keith Scott barely tore his hollow eyed gaze from the television program.
"What were you doing out so late?"
The boy didn't answer; typically he didn't. No accusations, either. He'd given up on those years ago.
"Lucas!"
"What does it matter? I'm back now."
The blond peeled out of his sodden shirt, tossing it aside.
"You're soaking wet." Keith's eyes roamed over the lithe form, unhappy.
"It's raining."
"I didn't get the things for supper. You'll have to do it on the way home from school tomorrow."
Daring Lucas to complain; the bottle in Keith's hand tilted alarmingly.
"Sure. Right after."
Letting the refrigerator door shut. There was a package of crackers by the sink.
Lucas ducked into his room, sinking onto the mattress. Comic book cutouts stared down at him, yellowed around the edges. He'd pasted them over every imperfection on the uneven walls. Faded, they still lent something...maybe just memories of an innocent childhood.
But now that was tarnished, same as Superman taking flight above his bed.
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He was drunk, but not drunk enough. Keith Scott tipped the glass; dry . He'd forgotten to mention that the grocery money was already spent.
He'd had no intention of wasting it all on beer. There wasn't any cereal that morning, and he didn't want Luke going to school again without breakfast. Heaven knows, the kid had trouble enough.
But painful as the memory was, being sober hurt far worse.
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Rain drummed against the roof, soothing in it's very monotony. Lucas lie on his stomach, flipping through a tattered album. The album he'd taken from under his dad's bed years ago.
It was full of photos, pictures of the past, he guessed. Luke knew Keith would hit him if he'd ever noticed it was missing. Sometimes Lucas would tuck it under his pillow. But he didn't do that very often anymore. That was when he'd cried himself to sleep, wondering who his mother was, why he didn't have one.
Most of the snapshots were of a pretty dark haired woman-girl, really-with a mischievous smile and large dark eyes. Lucas always imagined that she was his mom. The faded inscription read, simply, 'Karen.' That was all. He'd turned the pages inside out, trying to find clues.
Luke traced the side of her face with a gentle thumb. She must have been his mother. There were pictures that included Keith; the later ones showed her obvious pregnancy. That is where she started smiling less and less.
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"Sleep well?"
The blond barely nodded, marking down the last of his writing assignment. Keith observed the hard line of his son's mouth, realizing, with a pang of regret, how suddenly it had appeared. The shading around his blue eyes wasn't a recent event. Keith couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him smile.
"Hey. Sorry I wasn't at my best."
"Sure."
In a rare gesture, Keith tilted Lucas' face up."You okay?"
"Ya."
"What are you working on? Luke, you shouldn't put everything off.You'll never get anywhere." Like me.
Bent golden head. He'd always been studious.
The thought was laced with guilt. Maybe he hadn't done right by her son. Maybe he'd been wrong all along. He'd just felt it was his duty, the only way to help repay her. For what he'd done.
Shaking the memory aside, Keith nudged Luke's shoulder.
"You're going to be late."
"I'll run."
"Don't be coming home after dark. You know, I worry...it's not safe."
"I'm used to it." As if that made it okay.
"You stand out, Lucas."
"Dad."
God knows, he'd fretted like an old woman about the way everyone looked at his son. Halo of light hair, innocent cherubic features. It was almost as if motherless children had something written into their DNA. Keith himself could hardly resist those solemn blue eyes, the wistful turn of his lips.
"I'll make dinner tonight."
"That'd be nice." Noncomittal. Lucas bagged his books, silently tugging the zipper shut.
Keith always promised him the moon.
There was no need; he just wanted a dad.
Keith hesitated uncertainly."See you tonight, then."
"Sure."
The opportunity lost, Keith followed his son with blurred vision. Tucked twitching hands into the waistband of his jeans. Keith desperately hoped Luke wouldn't hate him for what he was planning to do. But if he didn't, he was going to hate himself.
Well, even more than he already did.
The phone felt as cold and foreign as the voice that answered.
"Dan Scott."
"Hey, little brother." -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I apologizing if this story line or name has already been written...i was unaware of any
