If It Weren't For You – Chapter 1
By MyNameIsCAL
This is a human fic. No wings. I've tweaked the ages of the characters, so don't think I've forgotten how far apart in age they're supposed to be. Special thanks to Mr. Patterson for his lovely series, wonderful characters, and the ability to use them for my own ideas. But of course, please enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading!
-Fang's POV-
I should have been the guy living on the streets, begging for money to get my next fix. In fact, I nearly died because of it.
It had been six months since I used drugs. But that was partly because I had a kid on the way, and I promised Max that I'd keep myself clean for him, or her. Whichever the baby turned out to be. I was determined, honestly, but it was hard.
But I guess I should tell you about Max first.
It all began three years ago. I was high on meth, stumbling to some charity event that was raising money addiction research and cures. The event was something Max was running in memory of her younger brother who had died from a drug overdose. There was really no rhyme or reason of why I was there, and maybe some other force was working its magic that day.
She recognized the signs. I had too much in my system, and I had been trying to kill myself. We were five minutes from the closest hospital and she drove me herself. The doctor told me she saved my life, that I was damned lucky to be alive. Two times before that, I had tried to go out by jumping in front of a car and cutting my wrists, but they had both failed. When I learned an actual person who cared saved me, it really made me stop and think for a moment. There was something more to all of this, I just needed my eyes to be opened.
After that, I took it to heart to try to get myself back on my feet. With Max's help, I had myself in rehab. Things got better for a few months, and then they fell apart. Relapse after relapse. But Max came to my rescue again, and even with all the ups and downs I was having, she was always there for me, and for a short time, we fell in love.
Her pregnancy wasn't planned. In fact, it should have never happened, but we had to take responsibility. After a long discussion, we had agreed that at least for now, marriage wasn't the conclusion we needed to jump to. I loved Max very much, but not in the romantic way. And she too reciprocated those feelings. In other words, she was my best friend, and while I probably needed her more, she still needed me too.
Six months had been the longest I had kept myself sober. Max was proud of me. Hell, even her family was proud of me. Even though I was stuck on all this medication for depression and whatnot.
Max had three siblings who she had pretty much raised by herself with Ari after her parents died in a terrible car crash. The youngest one was Angel, the only sister Max had. Angel was in high school now, but she had a way of seeing through things. Gazzy was the second youngest, a prankster struggling to make it in the entertainment industry because he hadn't made it to college.
Then there was Iggy.
He wasn't exactly related to Max. The story was fuzzy, but before the car accident, Max's parents had been taking care of him. Iggy never spoke about his parents though, and I knew I wasn't in the position to question, nor did I really care. Over the years, he and Max had become closer, according to her, especially because of Ari and some rare condition he was diagnosed with. It was causing him to lose his eyesight very slowly. I felt bad for the poor guy, but he never let that get him down. Perhaps out of everyone Max had introduced to me, he had been just as kind as she was to me.
I lived with Max in her very spacious apartment that was about an hour and a half from the city. Since Gazzy was taking care of his sister and was living with his girlfriend, Nudge, Max was taking care of Iggy. It was part of the reason we had such a big place for three people. There was no denying it wouldn't be long until Iggy's sigh was completely gone. More space for him meant more comfort, and at this point, it was all Max could do to help him. I guess it worked out though. There would be plenty of room to raise a kid here, at least until they got bigger.
Most of my days were spent helping Max and Iggy. I didn't mind it, in fact it was a good routine to keep my mind off my cravings for drugs and the urges I had to hurt myself. Iggy kept everything lighthearted. It was his personality I guess that made him easy to be around. His generosity, I noticed, was one of the things he and Max had in common. The two of them were fighters, in their own right and ways. I had to give them credit that they had made it through a lot and turned out, well, better than me.
I owe you some explanation about myself now, don't I? How my whole addiction started. Well, I'll give you the short end of it. It started with prescription meds. I had gotten in a car accident which left my left leg mangled. Some five surgeries later, I could walk, but it hurt like hell still and they put me on prescription pain killers. That had been a mistake. It went downhill from there. Pain killers weren't enough, so I moved on to other things to forget the pain, and then I realized I couldn't escape it. The drugs made me do stupid things. Stupid things for money and drugs. Things I'd rather not mention right now. But eventually I realized no one wanted to be around someone like me. A broken and lonely drug addict who was in too deep to be saved by themselves.
Yet here I was, just another day in my life, trying to feel like things were back on track. You could say a lot has changed from those days though.
"Fang, hey, wake up."
I grunted.
"Fang, you gotta wake up and eat something and take your medication." That was Max's voice trying to coax me out of bed.
Finally, I opened my eyes and sat up.
"Morning," I muttered.
She smoothed out my hair with her hand. "I've got to help Iggy cook. Don't lie down again, alright?"
I rubbed my eyes. "Alright."
Ten minutes later, I trudged out to the kitchen. Iggy greeted me with a cheerful good morning greeting, and I forced a smile and returned the favor before sitting down at the table.
I remember the first time I met Iggy. He was already preparing for losing his vision. I had just come home, or well, to Max's place for the first time after being in rehab for a couple of months. While talking was going to be his main way to communicate with people when he lost his vision completely, it wasn't the same as seeing expressions and people's body languages. Max said he had tried a lot of things, but one thing that seemed to be working well for him was when he talked to a person, or at least someone he knew, he'd put his hand on their face to feel their expressions. I agreed to let him greet me like that when I first met him, and maybe that was one of the reasons why he hadn't objected to me living here.
"How's your leg today?" Max asked, setting down a small plastic container and a glass of water in front of me.
"Hurts like hell."
She let out a sigh. "It'll get better, I promise."
"I know."
I uncapped the container and assessed what medication I was taking now. There were two pills: an antidepressant and a pain killer that was also supposed to help quell my want for meth.
"Maybe I shouldn't take it," I heard myself say.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Max replied, a hint of hopefulness in her voice.
She was in charge of giving me my medication every day. Everything I was prescribed was in a locked cabinet that held another locked box inside of it. At night, I took sleeping pills and an antidepressant again. Part of me believed none of it worked, but I knew that if I fought it, things would only come crashing down again.
After breakfast, Max went to shower, leaving me alone with Iggy to wait for her to drive us to the grocery store. He took a seat next to me, hand outstretched, and I guided it to my face. His sight was going faster than he wanted to admit, but I think Max was in denial just as much as Iggy was.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Of course."
His pale blue eyes found mine. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he wasn't going to be able to see one day. "What're your plans after the baby is born, Fang? I need to know you're not going to take off."
I kept my eyes fixed on his. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here unless she wants me gone. We may not be married, but I still love her, and that's going to be our baby. I don't want to end up being like my father."
He dropped his hand from my face. "I just…had to make sure, Fang."
"I know, you're just looking after her," I nodded. "It's alright, Ig."
"I don't want you to think that I feel this is all wrong either," he said quietly, eyes focused somewhere else now.
When Max was ready, we headed to the grocery store. The weekend crowd made the place a madhouse, and I pushed the cart as Max led Iggy around by the arm. He was trying to tell her how to pick out the best watermelon and freshest vegetables. I had observed him for a while now, and there were these moments you definitely knew he was preparing for when he would finally go blind completely. Only recently had he been doing it more.
Somehow, it made me terribly sad.
"Alright, that's everything on the list," Max said. "Fang, why don't you take Iggy with you and pick up a couple pizzas for lunch across the street? I'll pay for all this, load it up, and meet you there. You'll probably have to wait anyway."
"You don't need help?" I frowned.
"Why? Is it because I'm pregnant? You know, those college kids look bored. I can make them load up the car," she laughed. "Besides, if you go already, then we won't have to worry about the ice cream melting."
"Alright, we'll go then."
She waited for Iggy to take my arm, and I led the way through the growing crowd. It was the middle of the summer, but I still donned a long sleeved shirt to hide my scars. When we got outside into the humidity, I could feel myself begin to sweat. It didn't help that we were now standing at the corner of one of the busiest intersections in town, waiting to cross the street.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Iggy questioned. "We can wait for Max."
I fixed my eyes on the other side of the road. "It's—it's alright."
The crossing sign switched from a standing man to a walking man. Iggy had let go of my arm, or maybe I was just losing touch with reality for a moment as I remember what happened years ago….
I was running. Running from my father. I was seventeen and I needed a job if I was even going to think about going to college, but the idea to him seemed ludicrous, especially because he was in one of his drunken stupors. He had punched me, so I had punched him back and then fled from the house. My mom had died last year. I blamed my father for that. He didn't give a shit about her.
It was almost midnight, but I was still running. I wasn't ever going back home. I wasn't ever going to let anyone get under my skin like he did. There wasn't anyone in the world worth caring about. I was going to be my own man from now on and that was final. Screw college, screw my job. Fuck every single goddamn person out there.
I reached a crosswalk, but I neglected to look both ways out of anger. The oncoming car didn't even see me coming, and I hadn't seen it. But as I lay there, blood pooling around me, I realized that more than ever, I wanted to die…
"Hey, Iggy, wait!" I called out.
Before I could even react, a speeding car turned around the corner. You could turn right on red, but pedestrians still had the right of way. Iggy was right in its path, but by the time I could scream again, he had already been hit.
I ran to him, dropping to my knees.
He reached his hand up and pressed it against my face. "F-Fang…"
I put my hand around his wrist. "You're going to be okay, Iggy. Just hang in there."
"Tell Max…Tell Max thank you for me…"
"Iggy, you stay with me, damnit!"
"Tell the others too…" He coughed. "You're going to be a great dad, Fang. Don't let anyone, even yourself, tell you otherwise."
"Iggy!"
His eyes met mine and then he closed them, arm going limp. I screamed at him again, but by then, it was no use.