Wicked Friend
AN: This is the first installment. Just so you know the basic plan, the plan is to have less angst in later installments. I actually have ideas to make this slightly comedic but overall, just a happy ending lovestory. Because we Grindeldore fans could always use an AU like that. Enjoy and tell me your thoughts so far!
1. A Dubious First Meeting
The door creaked on its' hinges as they entered. First of the procession, an older balding man clapped his peer on the back, greeting him by name – Robert. Robert held the door open awkwardly as three women shuffled by, a box-blonde 40-something who looked like a cockerspaniel and a matching set of teenagers. They all must have been here before, Albus tells himself, they all know eachother. They belong here.
Do I belong here? He hesitated, and then shuffled forward, bowing his head slightly at the low entrance and following the group. The meetings, Albus had been told, were held in a church. However, this wasn't the kind of church he had attended in grade school, with lofty high ceilings and a spacious stage – a minister in formal garb and matching hymn books. It was small and dim, with rusty windows and modest hallways and a charm that only old buildings can muster. To his surprise, the group passed the main room of the church and filed through a narrow hall, taking a right at a staircase and heading downwards. Albus followed, with growing curiosity.
The meeting room was brighter than the ground floor. It was a compact space and Albus made a bee line for a chair in the corner just to keep his tall wiry frame out of the way. From here, he observed people as they got coffee and made small talk. He could feel his anxiety building over their casual chatter. Was this even right? Did he even need this?
It had all began a year ago. After a series of nightmarish events, Albus had found himself in a truly horrible situation. He could see his mother's eyes, closed and lifeless. His fathers script on the page blotted with tears when he had found out the news about Kendra. Albus cursed him and cursed him again for leaving, for being in jail, for his decisions. But no amount of cursing could bring him back to run this massacre of a family. Albus had opted to be his younger brother and sister's guardian. He was only eighteen but he refused to tear up what they had left. And in that refusal, struggling to keep the pieces together, he had turned to alcohol.
Ah, alcohol. That wicked friend. Albus had never met a man or woman whose cunning and wit outdid his own but drink had inhuman cruelness. Self-preservation had quickly turned to self-sabotage which quickly turned to self-destruction which had left him here, begging anyone he knew for an answer. A way out. That's why he had gotten this address – to save him. And yet here he was, in the corner, observing, quiet and fearful.
That's where everyone starts, he told himself, eyeing the room. Hardly anybody was near his age, only the two virtually identical girls who were socializing so enthusiastically, it might have well been a party. So many more people, painful strokes of age lining their faces with regret. Maybe he did belong here. Maybe it would make a difference.