My beta, nanuka02, suggests reading it while listening to Max Richter's "On the Nature of Daylight". I don't own the characters. Enjoy.
Sophie opened the door to find her boyfriend looking crazed and distraught.
"Kevin?"
"Soph, I've been thinking, and - thinking about our future - and -"
Sophie tilted her head, frowning.
He paused. "Can I come in?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said, concerned. She took his hand and he walked inside. She closed and locked the door. "I'll make us some tea," she said.
Kevin shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, nodding stupidly. He walked around the table four times before Sophie, having finished putting the water on, pulled out a chair. She pushed him into it - he palmed the tabletop as he was thrown off balance - then sat across from him and took his hands as he adjusted his weight to the chair.
"Talk to me," she said.
"Soph, this is hard with my...I'm drunk. I'm drunk, and I'm in pain. Since the surgery."
Sophie squeezed his hand gently. Her lips were pursed, her arms taut, her perfectly done eyebrows practically touching.
"I love you, Soph. But I don't want to keep ruining you." He spoke faster, lest she interrupt before the necessary words were spoken. "But I love you, so damn much," he said, removing a hand to cup her face.
She took his wrist and kissed his palm. "I love you, babe," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
Kevin briefly removed himself from her touch to move next to her, kissing her tears as his own eyes welled. "Babe," he continued, "I look at our future and I screw it up. I make it a nightmare." He was crying now. "I'm the worst parts of my dad, Soph."
The kettle was whistling by now.
"Kevin," she sobbed. They both were sobbing now, the first sob releasing something deep inside each chest that ached as it was released as tears. They cried and kissed and hugged. The kettle was still whistling.
Finally, Kevin got up and turned it off, fixing Soph's tea how she liked it. He brought her the mug. "I understand if you want to end it," he said, his voice thick. "Your tea is ready. I should go." He kissed her again.
She stared at him, unable to speak.
He walked away from the table, then stopped and turned around. "Just know that I love you, Soph. No matter what. I always have. I always will. I'll let myself out."
After he closed the door, she wailed. After she locked the door, he sobbed.
Kevin awoke to his body being shoved by a force that swept against his head, his back, his legs, before stopping.
"Shit!" A voice muttered.
"Sophie?" Kevin grumbled sleepily. "How did I-" he sniffled and adjusted himself on the ground, away from the force's direction. "-What? What - I fell asleep? On...your porch."
Sophie sighed and stepped through the crack in the door, which she had managed to push about halfway open. He was still sitting there, not quite awake or sure what to do. She offered her hand to help him up, hoping it symbolized something more. He took her hand after blinking at it groggily and she gently guided him up to half standing.
"On my porch." Her hand dropped and she smiled a familiar, tired smile as she watched him take a moment to stretch out the kinks in his muscles as a yawn overtook him.
She yawned as well, and clasped her right hand around his left forearm. She tilted her head as she watched him rub at the sleep in his eyes. He looks like eight-year-old Kevin, just waking up from a nap, so sweet and pure - pure energy, pure honesty, pure ham, pure friend. Eight-year-old Kevin just wanted to make people happy.
The fully grown man searching into her eyes drew her back. She met his eyes and stared into them for a few seconds. "Kev," she whispered, grasping the door handle and gesturing inside. "Let's go inside."
She thought back to their wedding, when they were saying their vows. It was outdoors, and the air was humid and sticky, but they didn't mind. They barely heard the minister speaking, eyes and ears so tuned to each other. She remembered what she said in her vows: We belong together. We grew up together. I love you and can't wait to grow old with you.
Fifteen minutes later, Kevin had warmed up in the shower - and Sophie had gone in with him, just to hold him when he was through washing, and to wash his hair for him, massaging away the headache she could tell he was getting. The shower was more loving than it was sensual, and after his locks were cleaned, he washed hers, then braided it wet before stepping out of the "heat zone" (that zone you can comfortably be in after the hot water is turned off and before you grab a towel), the same braid he had made a few times for Kate when they were kids. He didn't admit it, but he reveled in the feeling of braiding the hair of a woman he cared for, be it his other half or half of his soul.
The two dried off and dressed in between kisses on hands and necks and shoulders and happy hums. Kevin's stomach growled as he put a T-shirt on over his head and Sophie giggled.
"Someone's hungry," she said, dramatically grabbing him. She pulled him forward by his shirt, only to wet his cheek with a sloppy raspberry.
Kevin scoffed and laughed as he picked her up around her middle like a huge football. "He goes long, Pearson is light on his feet," he said in a mock announcer voice.
Her stomach grumbled, long and loud, the kind that would make a speaker take pause in a room full of people, even if the offending stomach was in the back. Sophie's eyes grew wide, her cheeks flushed.
Kevin scoffed again and gently tossed her onto the bed. "And…" he paused over her for dramatic effect. Sophie gaped at him. "TICKLE!" Kevin started to tickle her and she pleaded, "Uncle! Uncle! Un-ha-ha-cle!"
Kevin stopped then, placing his hands on either side of her. "Some two's hungry." He raspberried her neck.
"Ugh, Kevin!" She groaned. You're so cheesy!"
"And speaking of cheese-" Kevin started.
Sophie, propping herself on her elbows, rolled her eyes. She very nearly hit Kevin's head with her own, but he rolled to the side to avoid the collision.
"-we should get some food," he finished, patting his belly with the hand he wasn't leaning against.
"To the takeout drawer, then," Sophie grinned, getting off the bed.
"Actually," he said, drawing the word out nervously as he clambered after her. "I was thinking we could cook together. I mean, uh, why not?"
Sophie turned to face him.
He shifted his weight on his feet, eyes scanning the floor before looking up and settling on her lips.
"Kevin," she whispered, feeling blood rush to her face. She cradled his face, putting her thumbs on his cheeks and wrapping her fingers around his head. He wrapped his arms around her back as she gently suckled on his lower lip before kissing his chin. She pressed her forehead to his as he leaned into her. She could feel his lips forming a smile.
"I-," she started hoarsely.
Kevin reached his lips out to briefly suck on her upper lip, wanting to simultaneously hear her sweet voice and feel her soft lips on his.
"-would-," she tried again before meeting her lips to his. She hoped that she could transfer confidence through her lips. "-love to", she finished. He stomach grumbled again as Kevin stared at her lips, licking his own. He let out a groan as he captured her lips again in a brief, wet kiss. They both caught their breaths, mouths opening and closing like a fish, lips never more than two millimeters apart. Sophie giggled and Kevin could feel the laugh on his lips, which curled into a smile, laughter emerging from his own throat.
"I love you, Kevin," Sophie said. "And I would love to make...quiche?" she suggested.
Kevin, smiling wider against her palms, said softly, "quiche." He stared into her eyes, rubbing circles on her back. "I love you back, babe. I love you back."
In the kitchen, the pair was getting out ingredients to make mini quiches from scratch, starting with the dough, and the chopping of the vegetables: celery, red onion, carrots, green onion, broccoli, and cauliflower.
Kevin was chopping the carrots into neat cubes while Sophie was adding the chopped green onion to a large glass bowl. She picked up the celery and turned on the water to rinse it in the sink.
"Kevin?" Sophie said, scrubbing at a bit of dirt. The pair had been facing each other chopping, talking around the issue. But what she needed to ask him was difficult. It's easier to answer - and ask - the tough questions when you're not facing each other.
"Yeah, babe?" Kevin paused the knife for a moment, looking at the back of her head before realizing she wasn't going to turn to face him and resuming dicing carrots, eyes on the orange vegetable.
"Do you...are you-" she sighed and picked up the cauliflower (which had already been rinsed) as an excuse to stay at the sink. "I want you to be honest with me," she said plaintively.
"O-kaaay," Kevin replied tentatively. He roughly shoved the carrots into the bowl and began attacking the red onion with the knife. He knew this was not going to be a fun conversation.
Sophie sighed again. "Honey, are you having problems with - with drugs and alcohol?" Her voice was soft, her words hesitant. He had hinted at a lot of things earlier, but she had to be sure.
Kevin frowned, not following. "Babe, turn the water off. I can't hear you," he said as he unsuccessfully tried to blink out the onion's irritating oils.
Sophie swallowed hard and turned the water off. Now she'd have to ask him all over again, only this time he'd hear her. She cleared her throat and tried again. He wished she would just say it.
"Honey, are you, um," she paused and drew in a breath, as if for strength. "Are you having problems with drugs and alcohol?" Her voice wavered, despite her efforts to keep it steady.
Kevin put the knife down and gripped the table. Suddenly he felt sick, and glared at the stupid onion, not fully chopped and still irritating his eyes, in disgust. "Yeah," he spat. "Yeah, Sophie, I guess I have," he said after a moment of tense silence, in which he dwelt in his disgust as one dwells in a cool pool on a hot day.
"Kev-" Sophie said, finally drying her hands and turning around to face him.
"And I kept thinking someone would notice," Kevin continued, disdain in his voice. He picked up the knife again, because dinner still needed to be made. He shot her an angry look before roughly slicing the knife through more onion, letting it loudly bang on the cutting board in the process.
"Kevin, she said, opening the fridge. Damnit, Sophie, she thought. She brushed hair out of her face with the crook of her elbow to avoid having to wash her hands again before a particularly loud slice of his Kevin's knife jolted her back into the motions of preparing a meal. She got out some block cheeses - sharp cheddar, Swiss, and parmesan. She quickly began to prepare the cheese to shred, unwrapping it and starting to get out another cutting board before looking up, feeling Kevin's eyes boring into her head. She looked up to find he was giving her a pointed look. He's waiting for you to talk, she reminded herself.
She pulled out the cutting board and chopped off a chunk of Swiss. "You're right, Kevin. I didn't notice...at first."
He glared at her, made one final chop at the onions, and turned the cutting board so it was nearly vertical, letting the onion pieces fall into the bowl.
Sophie shifted her weight as she picked up the grater and began gently rubbing the Swiss against it, letting the shreds fall into a smaller glass bowl.
"Fine, Kevin," she huffed.
He picked up the cauliflower from the colander still in the sink, giving the white, tree-like vegetable a few shakes to rid it of excess water before chopping it into tiny pieces. Kevin hated the stuff, but would tolerate it if it wasn't merely chopped into large, noticeable chunks.
"I didn't notice at all. My friend at work did - Liz, remember?" Sophie said. She looked up at Kevin, who gave a curt nod. "Well, when you came to visit me at the hospital the other day, she noticed that you seemed...well...off. Well, I suppose I noticed that, but she told me that from what she saw, and from what I'd been telling her, that she thought that you needed help, and, well, that you...are abusing drugs," she said.
Her eyes were burning from the red onions Kevin had just chopped.
"Anyway," she said, her voice softening as she saw a tear forming in his eye. This is hard for him, too, Sophie, she reminded herself. "Liz told me, and, well...Kevin?" She stopped herself. Okay, so now let him speak.
"I'm so mad, Soph. And so embarrassed, he said, chopping angrily. Tears began to blur his vision, and he dared them to fall. "My dad was an alcoholic, did you know that?"
"No - I -" Sophie stuttered.
"I watched my dad live and took his worst quality," Kevin said, words dripping with bitter anger.
"Kevin," Sophie exclaimed.
"I'm a fucking alcoholic, Soph," he spat out.
"Kevin! You're bleeding," Sophie was suddenly behind him, taking the knife out of his hands.
He blinked. Red splattered the white. His red. When did that happen? He wondered.
Sophie was ushering him to the bathroom.
"You cut yourself pretty deep," she was saying.
"Kevin." She put her hands on his face like earlier, but she didn't move in for the kiss. "We need to go to the ER. You need stitches."
"Soph, help me," he pleaded.
She rubbed gentle circles on his cheeks with her thumbs. "I will," she whispered. "With everything."