Title: I Can Fly
Summary: What's right is never easy; faith in oneself is ever fleeting. Change is intangible yet certain as Drew Torres learns to love himself in a way he always lacked, or fail and bring the world around him to ash. | Drianca, mentions of other ships. Set roughly around 14x02. Canon compliant.
Notes: This fic assumes that Audra is Drew's biological mother, and Omar is Adam's biological father. They met in elementary school, and their parents married when they were roughly ten. Not contradicted in canon at all.
Also, assumes and makes mention of Katie raping Drew in season 12. It is not a large part of the fic, but the assumption exists for a reason.
There are some trigger warnings, but nothing extreme. If you're concerned, I'd suggest turning around.
I Can Fly
The covers were hot and suffocating around him, but he couldn't really force himself to care. His back hurt, his muscles ached, and his lungs felt like a hot summer's day. His throat was tight and it hurt like the height of a common cold. He wasn't sick though. He just wished he were.
Clare was pregnant with his baby. It was bad enough that they were having a baby in high school, but it was his baby. His baby. Drew knew that he was a fuck-up. There was no doubt. His presidency was just an illusion. Nothing about him was successful.
If he had a baby, it would be as big of a fuck-up as he was. It sickened him to think that way as he would never hold it against his baby that he was conceived in high school.
"Yeah, he," Drew muttered to himself, though he wasn't sure if the words were spoken or remained in the hell that was his head. He felt a bit dizzy and delusional, and felt like the blankets were eating him alive like a sarlacc. It sure smelled like one at least, as he reeked of body odor that was bad enough that he was actually able to smell it. He wasn't sweating though. He was as dry as a whistle in this ball of blankets, heat, and self-loathing. He wondered for a minute if he were having a heatstroke, but he didn't care enough to do anything about it.
He.
The thought kept crossing his mind.
He. He. He.
He had a son. It was bizarre. He had a baby boy.
And he hated himself for it. He wanted to conjure up an image of his son playing on the playground as he watched hand-in-hand with Clare. He wanted that image so badly. Drew loved kids. Always had, and they never failed to bring a smile to his face. Clare had even commented on how great he was with kids when he snuck her out of chemo.
But the image eluded him. Drew was a fuck-up. It tore through his head like wildfire, and he just wanted it to ignite the heat and odors of his suffocating cocoon of blankets and burn him to ashes.
He wanted to conjure up an image of a happy son, but he could only cook up images of himself. He saw his son cornered by a gang - shot, stabbed, and stopped into the concrete. He saw his son raped by an ex and not knowing what happened until she was long gone. He saw his son tearing through life and people like it were a sport. He saw himself in his son, and he knew he could never fix either of them. He was a fuck-up. Always had been, always would be.
He dozed off for some time, though his thoughts never changed. His dreams were hot, dry, and angry, and somehow, more of a nightmare than the thoughts that he had already had. He awoke with a startled breath and struggled to breath, afraid to turn on the lights for fear of what he may see.
He felt or heard a buzzing. He couldn't tell as everything around him rolled into one, and for a moment, he felt like the blankets really were trying to eat him alive. As dream world faded into lucidity, Drew realized that his phone was buzzing. He groaned, having no idea where it was, but from the vibration tumbling through his covers, it was likely inside of his blankets with him.
He wiggled to get his arm loose, and he managed to after more of a struggle than he cared to admit. He wondered how he had gotten tucked in so tightly. When he was a kid, hot dog style had always been his night time ritual.
"Daddy, tuck me in," he would cry. He was probably four or so; had to be since his dad died that year. He used to giggle with glee as his dad packed him in tight - legs straight and arms against his side as his father wrapped and pushed the sheets nice and tight around him.
"Now that's my little hot dog," his dad had said. "Now don't get up, or the monsters under the bed'll get ya!"
Drew laughed, but in the present it came out as dry and sardonic, and the scratchiness would have forced anyone to run away from him in disgust.
He felt disgust for himself too: for his state of being, his past mistakes, and his hopeless future.
His body wasn't doing him any favors either, as he explored under his copious blankets looking for his phone. He really reeked, as the heat of the blankets made him sweat but not sweat. He somehow felt wet and dry at the same time. Like dry dry. Like he could scratch at his skin and mistake it for sand.
He sighed in relief that he didn't know he needed as he wiggled, relieving compression from the blankets on his chest. It was a surreal experience as his hands pushed under the blankets and into the viscous heat. His body felt small yet massive, and he was both there and not there.
His fingers reached his waist and he discovered that he was still wearing pants. He groaned at the thought of how fucked-up he is that he managed to end up in a deluge of blankets with a pair of pants on. He unbuckled his pants to give his lower half some breathing room. Then he realized that he was still wearing his shirt too, and removed it the best he could in the tangled mess of fabric, gagging all the way at the smell of his own body, and somehow letting the blankets devour his shirt.
He threw his head down on the pillow in defeat, and wanted to scream into it, but didn't as he knew it would send a fresh fiery pain through his throat. He felt so tired and miserable, and just wanted to die. No one would care if he did after all. He was such a fuck-up. He was worthless...
But then his thoughts returned to his dad, and how much he missed him, and how much his life had changed for the worse. Omar was great, and Drew would never trade his time with Adam for the world, but he still thought about his dad often. Sadness at him being gone, anger at him for not being there for him and his mother. All those years without a father had been hard on him... and he didn't want to leave his son like that.
Damned if he stayed, damned if he didn't. He really was a fuck-up. It just wasn't fair that no matter what, his kid's life wasn't going to be perfect.
His phone buzzed again, and now that he had loosened his covers a bit, he knew exactly where it was. His pants pocket. He probably should have checked there first.
Now that he knew where it was, he felt it like fire on his leg. He hissed as he pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it onto the bed next to him. His phone had a tendency to overheat, but damn.
He had two text, though he couldn't decide who it was. In the best world, it was Clare telling him that she had decided on an abortion. Or, it could be Dallas wondering why he skipped dinner, or his mother wondering why his door was locked. Or Becky. That brought a smile to his face that he hadn't felt in nearly a lifetime. Becky was about the best thing in his life right now. She was pretty. She liked him, and much like Clare, she kept him on his toes… if in a much more gentle fashion. He enjoyed all of his time with her, and while he didn't see a lifetime of love between them, he could see that lasting for the rest of high school.
He reached his hand over to his phone, touching it with only his fingers this time so that he wouldn't burn himself.
His heart dropped as he saw the texts were both from Clare, and thoughts were racing at what she could have to say. Had she taken his offer of marriage seriously? It would seal the deal, at least. If he believed in prayer, he would have prayed she got an abortion… the thought of killing his son was no less painful than the life he would have if he lived. Drew sighed, and buried his face into his pillow. He wasn't even religious and he got himself into a moral conundrum over abortion.
He read the text.
[Drew we need to meet before school tomorrow to run some things over for prom, Alli is really on my case. We won't talk about that]
[Drew?]
He groaned as he replied with an affirmation, mildly annoyed and impressed with her. Clare would be one to push things aside for her job. She took things so seriously, and that was what he liked so much about her. She kept him on his toes, and helped him learn how to be a little bit like her. She was always challenging him and pushing him to be a better president, a better Drew. He knew that he wouldn't be half the man he was today if she hadn't constantly pushed and prodded at him through their first semester.
His mind drifted back to when he was nominated for president. He was a joke. It wasn't until Clare had irked him enough that he started to fight her for the position. She wouldn't put up with his shit, so he had to show her up. That behavior had continued into the school year itself, even when they were cooperating. She challenged him, and sometimes made him mad, but overall, he knew that she wanted him to do his best, for himself and for the school. She always wanted him to be the best Drew he could be. Much like Bianca.
He sighed as his thoughts shifted to her. His first love. His near wife. His best friend that he hadn't spoken to in months.
He always got sad when he thought about her, and shed more tears than he would ever admit. It killed him that he let the two of them fall apart, but after she left him, his stomached twisted and ached and he wanted to bash his head into the nearest wall to give his mind a new distraction.
His life had gone downhill the moment she left him. Everything he did was to hide himself from those feelings, to try to carve out a new life where he wouldn't feel that pain anymore.
Bianca was his rock after Adam died. His heart ached at the thought. Last year he had been on the top of the world: his brother was alive, he was engaged to be married, and he had a path for the future as school president. He was no longer the idiot. The screw up.
Now he was back to square one. Both of his rocks had left him. Adam was the best little brother he could ever have, and always kept him in the right. In the last few months of his life, Adam had constantly pushed him to be the better Drew along with Bianca. He had felt mildly irked that he had been their little pet project, but happy that the two most important people in his life were getting along.
Now he would give anything to have the two of them back. He would give anything to have someone love him and to stop him from being the fuck-up that he was. Now he was alone in the world.
He was just a dad who would never be able to do anything but watch his son turn into him.
Clare was great, in her own way. She always pushed him to be better. She loved to see him thrive. But she was also no-nonsense. She wouldn't even begin to know how to stop him from ruining everything.
He closed his eyes and struggled to breathe as his stomach played games with him. There was nothing worse than lying in bed as the past haunted him along with his hopes and dreams mocking him as they dissipated. Not that he ever really had hopes and dreams, but just what others wanted him to be, and what he wanted to be for them.
He thought for a moment, and thought hard to try to force himself to do that yet again. Be a good father. Be a good father. For Clare. For the baby.
He thought and thought, but nothing happened. His stomach was still tied in knots and a large part of him wanted everything to go away. It was like Adam all over again. He felt empty much like the way he had after his brother's death. There was something missing inside him, and only now did he realize that he never filled it. Being president was just a distraction. It was the false promise that he could do something and make Adam and Bianca proud.
He took a breath as he thought once again of Bianca. She had been his rock after Adam's death. She had cuddled with him in bed every night that she was in town, telling him that he was a better big brother than he could have ever known. She had stayed on the phone with him all night until he pretended to fall asleep so that she could move on with her life, before spending an eternity twisting and turning in bed until he stopped trying to sleep all together.
She had helped him get through his worst days, but now he had no one. Who was he going to cry to about his baby? Not Clare. She was great and all, but the issue was about her and their child that she clearly wanted. Not Dallas. A great friend, but sometimes he was dense, and never really pushed him to be a better Drew. Hell, Drew couldn't even push himself to be a better Drew. He didn't even know what he wanted to be that would make him a better Drew.
Well, yes he did. It was for Bianca. He wanted to be a better Drew so that Bianca could want him again. She said she never stopped, but he knew that she wanted to wait and see better things. He couldn't be mad at her. It made sense, after all. It made him want to be that something better that she was searching for.
He failed in that regard too. He couldn't even keep their friendship up after she dumped him. It was too painful. He was too pathetic. Why would she ever want to talk to him again?
But, without her, he had nothing. For as long as he could remember, he lived for someone else. Adam had been his driving force for as long as they could remember. Best friends in kindergarten, best brothers for life. He had changed schools for Adam, and staked his claim as big man on campus to protect him. That all changed when he met Bianca.
Bianca had changed everything. Before, everything was about Adam. Protect Adam. Be the powerful Drew that could keep Adam safe as he explored life. He had been happy being just that. But Bianca was different. Bianca made him want to be something more than he was.
He lost everything in one swift go, and now, he was drifting alone in the world.
He was alone, and he just wanted to talk to them. Adam was dead, and Bianca probably hated him.
He still felt like dying, alone and contorted in the sheets devouring him. In a way, it wasn't that different from life. He always felt trapped and on a path set by his mother. Life had never been easy to him, despite not being born into the worse life possible.
He felt like he would never be able to get out of bed again.
How did other people do it? How did they go through life? Did everyone else live their lives for the sake of others, or did they do it for themselves? He thought of Clare who did everything she did for her own sake. She wanted to be the best she could be, then maybe more than that. Adam had always found the simple joys in life, and was happy to just hang with those he loved.
How did they do it? How did they live life for themselves, rather than for someone else?
He thought of Bianca, and wondered what drove her? She had always wanted someone to believe in her – to belief that she could do great things. And he had, with every ounce of his being. She lived so that others could believe in her. To love her. To love herself.
She succeeded, and he wanted that. He wasn't jealous in the slightest. He would never be jealous of Bianca. She deserved everything she had. It wasn't jealousy. It was desire. He wanted to love himself the way she loved herself, and then, maybe, she would take him back.
He had no idea how to get there. He had believed in her with his whole heart, and that gave her the power of the world.
Til the world explodes.
His eyes glazed over as he thought of their phrase. The phrase that made his stomach turn and his heart stop. The phrase that had him seeing stars and a future in which he loved her as much as she loved him. A world in which they were happy and loved their selves with all the power in the world. Together, they had the power to destroy the world.
He hand slapped on his phone so hard that his palm burned where it had struck the glass screen. His finger brushed over the buttons like it was an extension of his body. He knew exactly where Bianca's contact was much like he knew how to find his fingers and his toes.
It felt like an eternity and a split moment at the same time. His hissed as the bright light seared his eyes as he brought the phone to his ear. He braced himself for the harsh sound that would soon send his ears drums reeling at the first sound he heard in what felt like a lifetime. It was a pain he looked forward to as it would be the first time he heard Bianca's voice in months.
His heart lurched as he spoke.
"Drew?"
Her voice was uncertain. He hadn't the slightest idea what time of night it was, but she sounded sleepy. So beautifully sleepy. Drowsy, almost. The voice she had when they woke up from a cuddle filled nap. He wanted more than anything to be back in blissful days. He needed that.
"I need you," he said. It came out in more of a croak, and he had to wonder how monstrous it sounded. When was the last time he had something to drink? He found his mouth was parched now that he had a reason to know.
"Drew, I…" she began, her voice as beautiful as ever. He heard a rustle on the other end of the line, and he licked his lips and tried to move saliva in his mouth so that he could speak with a voice that wasn't akin to a zombie.
"Are you okay?" Bianca asked. "You sound… off."
"Yeah," he said. It was all he could muster. There was a dull pounding in the front of his head. It was a like a hangover but not. Hangovers had hope of recovery.
"I've been worried about you. It's been months," Bianca said.
Drew winced. "I know, I'm awful."
"You're not," Bianca said. "You're just… prone to mistakes."
Drew tried to chuckled, but it was more of a wheeze. "I do nothing right. I couldn't even keep in touch with you like I promised."
"It was hard for both of us… I think about you every day."
In the past, those words would have wiped his slate clean. He would have smiled and flirted, worries forgotten. He was too far gone for that. Hope was a figment of his imagination.
"Me too," Drew said. "It's why I couldn't keep in touch. I couldn't bare the constant reminder of what I lost."
"You didn't lose me."
"I have nothing. I just want to die."
He heard an intake of air.
"Don't say that. Tell me what's wrong?"
That wasn't a question he was ready to answer. "How do you do it?" he asked instead.
"Do what?"
"How do you… like yourself?"
Bianca was silent for a moment. "I don't know how to answer that."
"Do you hate yourself? Do you look at your actions and see them as failures? Do you look at your future and see disaster? Or the people you care about and think that they would be better off without you?"
"Drew…"
"Do you?"
"Never," Bianca said with a conviction that Drew had missed, but never forgotten. The conviction she had in her voice when she said he could be president. She hadn't doubted it in the least. She hadn't doubted him. Every good thing about him came from her.
They were quiet for a moment, and Drew listened to their breathing. Soon it would sync like all the times it had before.
"H-how?" he asked. "How do you do it? How do you love yourself without someone there?"
"I believe in myself, Drew. You taught me that, remember? You told me that I deserve happiness. You told me that I was a good person. You showed me that I was worthy of love – yours, and mine, and anyone who matters."
"I did it all for you," Drew murmured under his breath. "Everything I did was for you. You and Adam. I… I don't know what to do any more." He snorted a bit, and his clogged nose informed him that he was starting to cry. His eyes burned and his cheeks were wet, but he had gotten used to that at some point. "How did you do it? How did you continue to love yourself when you had no one?"
"I'll never be alone. I have you after all. And your mom. Our friends. My new friends. And even if I were, you taught me to believe in myself. I can do anything."
Drew remained silent, absorbing what she told him. It didn't help, but it did make him feel better. Maybe he had done one good thing in his life. He had made sure the person he loved would always love herself.
"I believe in you too, Drew," Bianca said. "You know I do. I always have. I knew the moment I saw you across the hall, before the mess in the boiler room, that you were different. I saw it in your eyes. In the way you held yourself. You can do anything. You would do anything to protect the people you care about – you proved it for me and Adam. You can do anything Drew."
"I mess everything up," Drew moaned.
"And you make many great things too!"
"And what if what I make is a mistake? What if what I do is the biggest mistake imaginable?"
"It's not. I promise you, Drew."
"I got Clare pregnant," he hissed, disgusted with himself. How dare he spread his fuckery to the world?
"Oh," Bianca said. "That does explain some things. You're afraid. I would be too. Babies are huge."
"I fuck everything up," Drew cried. His lungs caught in his throat as he spoke, and the floodgates spilled forth. His once moist cheeks were now flooded with water, and his stuffy nose was no better.
"Stop, Drew. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Do you know where I would be if you let me hate myself? Let me think everything was my fault? I would be nothing without you. You made me strong enough to stand on my own… maybe I failed you."
Drew's heart stopped. "No. Never. You could never fail. You're perfect. I love you."
"Drew."
"I shouldn't have said that."
"It's okay… I never stopped loving you, you know? But we had to take time apart so that we could grow as people. Now is your time, Drew. You have to be strong."
"I want to be strong for you."
"Not for me. For you. Be strong for yourself."
"I-I can't. I'm not worth anything. I just mess up. I'll never do anything right. The world would be better off without me."
"Stop it, Drew. You want me to tell you to be strong for me. You want me to feel bad for you and tell you what you want to hear. You want the easy way out. That was always your flaw. You're such a good person. I promise you. You just need to have faith in yourself. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have faith in yourself."
Her voice was so sweet, so kind, so caring. There was love in it, more than she wanted to admit.
"This is why we had to break up. We have to find out who we are. We were together through the most important part of our lives. But that left us dependent on each other. I care about you, but you need to care about yourself too, you know? I fell in love with the strong man you were. The strong person you still are, you just have to realize it. Drew?"
"I'm here," he replied. "I don't think I can. I'm nothing without you."
"You're everything."
"I'm nothing. I hurt everything I touch."
"You never hurt me, or Adam."
"The two of you were my everything," Drew croaked.
"You did everything for us because you knew it was right. You did it because you're Drew. You're strong, righteous, and loving. You just don't know it yet. You think you did everything for us, but you really did it because you wanted to."
"Bianca… I-I did everything to make you happy. I didn't do it because I wanted to. Half of me screamed to abandon you. It would have been easy. I did it because you made me. There's something about you that made me want to take on the world."
"Til the world explodes," she murmured wistfully.
"Til the world explodes," he mirrored.
They were quiet for a moment as Drew pondered their words. They were together forever. Nothing could stop him – except for himself. Bianca wanted them apart so that they could grow. Drew knew he would never be anything without her. He would never grow, and Bianca would never want him again.
"Tell me… how it happened? You and Clare?" she chuckled.
"I was alone. She was there. She challenged me. She made me want to be a better me. She made me want to be better so that I could make you want me."
"I'll always want you."
"Why did you leave me?"
"You know why."
"I'm a failure. I'll never be what you want me to be."
"No. Tell me, what do you intend to do about the baby?"
Drew frowned. This wasn't a conversation that he wanted to have. Bianca would never want him if she knew exactly how much he hated himself.
"I want to be a dad. I want to love him. But I can't. If I'm around him, I'll just mess him up. But if I'm not, I'll be the loser dad who left his kid alone in the world."
"It's okay to be afraid. Look, I know this isn't easy, but…"
"It's impossible. No matter what I do, bad things will happen. It's always been that way. Nothing good can come from me."
"Stop with that, Drew. It's not true. If I promise you one thing, it's that."
"I never do the right thing. I take the easy way out. You and Adam were the only times I did the right thing. I left Alli the moment you wanted me. I left Katie the moment you wanted me too – I only supported her through her addiction because you asked me to."
"Yes, Drew, you take the easy way out. We all do. But at some point, we learn to take the hard way. You showed me that. Remember, in the alley? I could have shot Vince and been done with it. I could have taken the easy way out. Revenge. I could have ended him, and gone to prison myself. I could have given up. Do you know how hard it was to fight for my future? And no, I didn't do it for you. I did it for me. You convinced me that I was worth fighting for."
"I could never do that. I can't even get out of bed."
"Well at some point you have to make the hard decisions. I know you can. For yourself."
"You want me to help Clare raise the baby?" Drew groaned.
Bianca sighed. "I want you to want to do what you want to do. I won't tell you how to live your life. I need you to determine the life you want to live. I need for you to choose to be the strong Drew that I love."
"I want to raise him. I want a son. I want to walk him around the park. I want to take him to school. I want to watch him grow."
"Good. It's good to know what you want."
"I'm afraid."
"I would hope so," Bianca stated. "It's going to be hard. It won't be easy. The right thing rarely is."
"What if I mess him up?"
"We're all messed up. What matters is that you are the best Drew that you can be for him. You need to be a Drew that you can be proud of. You need to love yourself. Would this not be your chance?"
"Maybe," Drew muttered out of obligation.
"Take this seriously, Drew. It's your life, and your kid's, that you are afraid of fucking up. If you make the right choice here, would you not be proud of yourself? You want to take care of this kid, so do it. It's a scary choice, and a hard one. I don't doubt that. But that is all the better."
"I'm not sure that I can," Drew replied with what energy he could muster. He felt so weak and pathetic. The thought of taking that leap was beyond him. "It's impossible."
"Have you ever seen someone make a choice that was hard? Have you ever felt amazed at the strength they had? For me, it was you. You took the fall for me after Anson," her breath caught at the memory. Drew knew they agreed to never speak of that night again. No one knew the full story other than the two of them. "The choice you made was hard, and you inspired me to do the same. I protected you, like you protect me, remember?"
He closed his eyes in shame.
"And don't you dare feel bad about it. We protect each other Drew. We help each other. I'd get beaten for you in a heartbeat, and you'd do the same. So, tell me. Other than me and Adam and your mom, who have you seen make that hard choice? The choice that rips them apart, but they made it because it was right?"
Drew blinked away tears. His mind was still wrought with guilt for the things that Bianca let be done to her to protect him. She never told him the full details, and all he knew was that he could scarcely imagine what they were. They did the right thing. They protected each other despite how much it hurt.
The right thing was right. The right thing hurt. The right thing was never easy. If you didn't wake up crying at the memories, you never had to face a choice between right and wrong, hard and easy.
He opened his eyes and thought of Becky. Becky. His girlfriend. He cared about her, but would never love her like he did Bianca.
Becky. Why did he think of Becky?
She woke up crying every night. Her brother was in prison because of her. Her parents hated her guts. Becky was alone in the world except for him… and he would leave her for both Bianca and Clare's child.
He felt disgusted in himself, but he saved those thoughts for later. Bianca didn't need to hear that, she just needed to know what Becky did.
"Becky," he murmured. "She's such a good person. She did the hardest thing I can imagine. She sent her brother to jail to do the right thing. She protected a girl from her rapist. She saved Zoë's reputation and her self-worth. She betrayed her brother. She did the right thing – a thing that I could never do."
Bianca was quiet for a moment. He wondered if she had heard the rumors of him dating Becky now. Odd, in a way. They had all been friends the previous summer, so he knew she didn't dislike Becky. But everyone thought they were a bit of an unusual couple.
"I agree," Bianca said. "That would have been a hard decision. I couldn't imagine turning Adam over for anything. Even if it is something right. So very right for that awful wrong," she murmured, pain in her voice. Drew wanted to reach out and brush his fingers through her hair like he used to, but those times were long past. She wasn't even here.
"But, she made the right choice," Bianca continued. "I couldn't imagine living with the thought that I let someone suffer. Not again. We've both been through so much. I just… we've both been raped. We were never able to do anything about it. I feel kind of vindicated that this guy got caught and punished. She made a hard, hard choice. But… I'm proud of her. She was always that meek, Christian girl, but now she is strong. She knows how to stand up for what she believes in."
Drew nodded to himself. "I'm proud of her too. She's so strong. She did something that I could never do."
"You might not be able to turn over Adam, but I know you can do the right thing."
"I don't know…"
"Tell me. How did you feel when Becky made her choice? How do you feel to see her now? How would you feel if she didn't make her choice? How would she feel?"
"I felt proud, I guess. I knew the choice was right, but I knew I could never make it. I was happy that the choice wasn't mine. I was happy that she made the right one. If… if she didn't make the choice, she would be happier. Her family wouldn't hate her, but… I feel like she would hate herself."
Bianca never spoke, and he knew quite well that she wanted him to mull over his words. He wasn't stupid, despite what many would think. Encyclopedias were a different language, but his intellectual capacity was quite adequate. I would hate myself for making the wrong choice. That was the message Bianca wanted him to receive, and he did. He could have told himself that. Of course he would hate himself for making the wrong choice. Who wouldn't?
"Well, I suppose you wanted me to realize that I have to do the right thing, or I'll hate myself."
Bianca chuckled. "Obviously, but think deeper."
Drew racked his brain, but could think of nothing. He was always like this. He may be a bit better at figuring thing out than people thought, but he was never particularly great at analyzing things deeper. He groaned as the dull throbbing in his head prevented anything from value from forming in his mind.
Bianca sighed. "Dummy! You were supposed to realize that the hard choice is difficult, but anybody can do it. Becky is a great person, but she's just a person. An anybody. And you can be that anybody too. Drew!" Bianca exclaimed. "You can do the hard thing. You can do the right thing. I've always had faith in you."
"You really think that I can raise a baby?" Drew asked. "I'll mess it up. I'll drop him or something. Worse, I don't want him to turn out like me."
"You won't drop him, Drew. I promise. And you will mess up. All parents do. Look at yours. They're great, and they love you, but they've made their fair share of mistakes. They were more reluctant to accept Adam than you were. Your mother drove you out of her home and didn't show the faith in you that you deserved."
"I guess," Drew acquiesced.
"You can be a good parent. We always planned to have kids together, remember? You were so excited, and you weren't afraid at all." Bianca chuckled as they recalled the memories. "You wanted a boy and a girl. Twins."
"You made me think that we could take on the world."
"We still can. You still can. I have faith in you. You can do anything that you want to do."
"I don't think that I can help a kid have a good life."
"Do you want to?"
Drew paused for a moment before answering. "More than anything."
"Then do it. You can do anything that you want to do. You can do anything you put your mind to. You have a strong heart. Stronger than you believe. If you want, I believe you can fly. Nothing is too great for Drew Torres. I believe in you. You can fly to the skies."
Drew mulled her words, trying to force his aching mind to take those words in. I believe in you. You can fly.
"For you," Drew said.
"No, for yourself," Bianca corrected. "Say it with me. I can fly."
"I can fly?" Drew mumbled.
"I can fly!"
"I can fly."
"Louder!" Bianca demanded.
"I can fly!?" he croaked.
"Stronger!"
"I can fly!" It came out in an almost yell, but also deaf to his ears.
"Yes, keep telling yourself that. You can do anything you want to. Do you believe?"
"I believe you," Drew said.
"No, believe in yourself. Do you believe in yourself?"
"I think…"
"You can fly!"
"I can fly."
"Good. Be strong, Drew. I know you have it in you to do great things," Bianca said.
"I… I will try."
"Trying is all that I can ask of you. I trust you to do your best. Always."
Drew nodded, though she couldn't she, and gulped down his emotions. He throat was sore, and he supposed it was time to climb out of bed. He could use a shower and a chance to rinse his mouth out with water. It was finally time to stop feeling sorry for himself.
He kicked off the covers, and groaned at the humid stickiness of the air around him as the cool air of the room rushed in. It was a relief, but he hadn't realized how much he had been sweating as he rotted away in his cocoon of blankets. He placed his feet on the soft carpet floor and brushed away the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
"I can fly," he murmured, pulling himself up to his feet. His heart swelled as he heard Bianca chuckle on the other end of the line. "I'm going to tell Clare tomorrow that I'm with her. That I'll do my best for her."
"Good, though, it is 5am. Sounds to me like you have 2 hours to prepare," Bianca said.
"Sorry for waking you up," Drew said, and blushed, his face heating and then replaced by the cool air of his room. The air covered his skin and reminded him how much better the world was outside of his bed. It reminded him of everything he had to live for.
"It was worth it for you," Bianca said. "I always have time for you."
Drew exhaled. "I hope I can make you proud."
"You already have," Bianca promised. Drew just wanted to kiss her and touch her, and show her how much he cared. Those were impossibilities, so he said the only thing he could.
"Thank you, for everything."
"It's what we do for each other. I'll always… let me know how it goes tomorrow," Bianca said. He heard her voice shake a little with hesitation, and then she hung up.
"I love you too," he said to the air. He let his phone drop from his hand and onto the bed as he trudged his feet over to his bathroom. He grimaced as he turned on the light, and stuttered to the sink with his eyes half closed. He placed his hands on the counter and gripped the sides for balance as he inched his eyes open, dreading the bright light and the pain he would find etched on his face.
He wasn't as hideous as he expected. His eyes were red, his cheeks were sticky with dried tears, and eye lashes were laced in that gunk that everyone hates in the morning. He turned the water on and bounced his hands in it until it warmed, before tossing a handful into his face. He rinsed his eyes first to get rid of the gritty gunk before wiping off the salty tears and sweat from his cheeks and lips. He flushed out his mouth and spit it out, looking back into the mirror feeling partially refreshed and alive for the first time in memory.
He could do anything. He could do this. He could raise a child that wasn't a complete failure. He could help Clare's life not go completely downhill. He could make Bianca proud. He could fly.
He rolled the words over his tongue as he looked into the mirror. Everything was so clear now.
"I can fly."
Notes: I actually know very little about the song I Believe I Can Fly, but I watched it on YouTube after writing this. If I were a songfic writer, I could definitely see this working with some revisions. But, as it stands, it is more of a reference.
Other than that, I hope you enjoyed. I love Drew Torres as a character, and it was time to write a story to analyze his character growth. I also wrote a companion essay on Tumblr called Drew Torres: the Best Drew that He Could Be.