Lancer tells me I should have printed off my paper before now but his eyes linger on my face and I think that's what makes him let me off with a warning. After promising to email my paper to him tonight, he moves straight into the rest of the class, collecting their papers as he goes around the room.

I let the mind-numbing subject of English take me away for the rest of the hour, occasionally glancing toward Danny. He has his head low as his eyes skim over the required reading and I almost want to throw a note his way and interrupt his concentration. I don't actually want to bother him and Lancer's got hawk-eyes so I don't. Besides, I don't know what I would say.

As soon as we're let free, I start sluggishly out of the school, ignoring the general chatter of the people around me. I have the rest of Supernatural to binge on when I get home and I'll get the chance to peruse the cabinets for whatever dad got at the store yesterday.

I don't see Jeff or Blake coming until they're both slamming into me, jostling me from side to side and reminding me that my ribs are bruised. I let out a strangled noise and shove them off of me. I probably look fucking pathetic as I hunch over in the middle of the hallway, hands on my knees as I struggle to keep from keeling over.

Blake slaps my shoulder but he sounds concerned when he asks, "You okay, man?"

My teeth are gritted together in pain and I slowly rise from my crouched position. Lancer's looking my way from down the hall so I have to make this convincing. It causes my ribs to ache even more but I lunge for my teammates, grabbing them both in headlocks.

"You idiots thought you could surprise me," I laugh loudly, noticing how Lancer's attention slips away from me as my teammates struggle in my arms. I hold them in my grip for another couple of seconds before I let them go, grinning as they each punch me on the arm. My ribs are begging me to lay down right now and let whoever's capable just fucking carry me home but I keep going. One foot in front of the other. It's only a few more steps 'till I'm allowed to break down.

I'm in the safety of my car before I let myself breathe easier. It hurts and I know it's just going to get worse as the night wears on but it'll be alright. I still have the painkillers at the house. I should really keep some in my locker but the last thing I need is to get searched out and accused of taking steroids. Like some of the guys I play with aren't already on them.

Someone taps their knuckles against my window and a surprised garble squeaks out of me. I glare up at Kwan before rolling down my window. He looks apologetic as he rests his hands against the side of my car.

"My parents are doing a cookout tonight. Dad got some meat from one of his coworkers so mom's making hamburgers tonight," he says and I can practically hear the sizzle of the grill against the amazing burgers I've had the pleasure of knowing.

I bite my lip as my stomach growls, seriously considering it, but I shake my head. I need to get home and take some painkillers. "Nah," I say, shaking my head as I drag a hand through my hair. "I gotta do some homework."

Kwan crosses his arms. "So do it at my house," he argues and I know what he's trying to do.

"Dude, it's fine," I say, dropping my voice as I glance around the parking lot. It's mostly empty save for a couple of teacher's cars. "Dad apologized and I really think it's gonna be okay."

My best friend raises an eyebrow and his arms slowly uncross. "Really? He actually said he was sorry for what he did to your face?" he asks, nodding toward the bruises and I look away from him. He waits half a second. "Did he?"

"Not in so many words," I respond, scoffing when he sighs. "You know my dad, man. He's not one for a lot of words. He brought me a burger and we patched things up, alright? I know you don't get it but it works for us."

"A burger," he states and I sigh heavily, returning my stare to his. "That's it, Dash? You just forgive him like that? Just because he brought you food and looked a little apologetic for a few minutes? Seriously?" he asks, like he can't believe I'd let someone stick around after that.

"Yeah, seriously," I snap, more bite in my tone than normal. "I told you, we're not good with words and actions speak louder anyway."

Kwan braces his palms against my window again, holding my gaze. "Did he actually say the words 'I'm sorry'? At all?" he asks and my silence is the only response I'll give. What is he thinking? Of course my dad didn't say he was sorry. That's not how this works. It never worked that way with mom. He'd bring home flowers or some shit and they'd make up. Dad brings gifts to say he's sorry.

"No, he didn't," I finally give in, pushing his hands off my window before I roll it up. He keeps talking to me but I flip the radio on and turn the volume up until I can't hear him anymore. Until he's just another nameless, faceless person I avoid for a little while longer.

My engine growls as I back out of the parking space and zip out of the lot. I don't need anyone telling me how my dad should be acting or the things he should be saying. I already fucking know that normal fathers don't act the way he does. But normal kids aren't as fucked up as I am so it evens out. I get just as good as I give.

It's another angry drive and I should probably cut this shit out and act like a fucking grown up. It's not long until my age clicks over to eighteen and then none of this matters. I could move out whenever I want to and never deal with my dad again. As soon as high school is done I'm getting the cheapest place I can find. Anything to get out of there.

My phone vibrates just as I pull into my driveway and Kwan's name displays across my screen. I silence his call and start up the sidewalk. My neighbor is in her house so there's no one to wave to. I'm not really in the mood to talk to anyone so that's actually a plus for me. I twist the key in the lock as my phone starts up again.

"Fucking hell, Kwan," I say, silencing the call again. It doesn't take long for a series of texts to appear on my phone and I toss the damn thing onto the couch to look at later. My backpack thumps to the floor in front of the couch and I push the door shut behind me, twisting the deadbolt back into place.

Dad really went all out on this grocery trip and I have my selection of chips and various cookies. I go for a mini-bag of Doritos and head into the living room with another can of Dr. Pepper. As I pass by the table, a couple of letters with my name on it catch my eye and I grab them up, carrying them into the living room.

I plop down on the couch and open my soda, taking a long drink before I set it aside, digging through the cushions to get to my phone. Kwan's texts are straight to the point and it drags a groan from me, leaving me wondering how the hell I'm going to respond.

From: Kwan

I'm sorry for upsetting you :(

From: Kwan

I know it's different for you guys but I just think you deserve better, you know that. You shouldn't have to put up with his shit

My best friend doesn't swear ordinarily. But whenever the topic of my dad is brought up, all bets are off cause he can get a sailor mouth two seconds into that conversation. I drop my phone back down and open my chips, cramming several into my mouth before rifling through the mail.

The first one is just a statement from my bank, reminding me once again that the only time I swipe my debit card is when I order fast food. I sink down further into the couch and crumple the statement in my attempt to get it back into the envelope. I give up and put it on the coffee table, reaching for my phone again.

To: Kwan

It's fine, you don't have to apologize

I debate adding a smiley face but that's not my style. I send it off, knowing that he's going to come back with something about coming over to eat his mom's food. I don't actually have homework to do, aside from Algebra, but I do have a date with Dean Winchester's Impala. I swear, I pay more attention to the car than any of the female guest stars.

The second envelope is something about school but the third one… the third one is scrawled in a woman's handwriting and the little heart beside my name has my hands clenching around the paper. What the fuck is she doing writing me after all this time?

My hands shake and I want to tear into it right now. I want to open this shit up and get it over with. Figure out what dear old mom has to say after these months of silence. After shutting her service off after I called her every time dad got violent. I guess she got tired of me begging her to come home.

Fuck this, I can't read it. I don't know what to do with it so I shove it under the couch. Dad and I don't clean, ever, so it'll stay there until I'm ready to face it. Another thing I should really stop doing. Avoiding problems and hoping they go away. Yeah, like that ever works.

I relax into the cushions and ignore my stupid phone and the stupid letter and just check out with some television. I don't know what's on because I don't care. I just let whatever the channel is playing keep going and I pretend that my problems don't exist.

Right now, I'm just a normal guy with two parents that actually give a shit about him and he's well on his way to going to a prestigious college with a bunch of scholarships lined up for him. Playing pretend should be left to the kids because it's just pathetic when you're older.

Dad comes home at six and I'm still checked out in front of the TV. Doesn't stop my body from tensing when I hear his key in the door but whatever. I'll take what I can get. I tear my eyes away from the screen and mute the television just as dad steps inside and he flicks his gaze from me to whatever the hell's playing.

"What are you doing, son?" he asks, pushing the door closed behind him. I shrug and move my legs out of the way so he can sit. He spares a glance at me before easing down onto the other end of the couch with a sigh. "How'd tryouts go?'

Almost forgot that was today.

I unmute the TV and let a stupid commercial play through before I look at him with another shrug. "Alright, I got the position again," I tell him and he beams. It's not like there was anyone else there to steal it from me so I don't understand why he looks so fucking proud. All this position means is that I can toss a ball around pretty well.

"Dash, that's great," dad says earnestly, still smiling when I turn my focus back on the TV. "I'm serious, we should celebrate."

I snort, shaking my head. I can't remember the last time we celebrated anything in this house. Probably Christmas. Though that wasn't much of a celebration. That was more just walking on egg shells and trying not to wake dad up from his drunk stupor.

"Come on, I bought steaks the other night, we should throw them on the grill," he says, patting my thigh before standing up. I watch him leave the living room and debate saying no. Telling him that there's no point in celebrating because I didn't even try out. I couldn't. Because of him. His hands. And the goddamn bruises he always leaves in his wake.

I hesitate just long enough for him to look back before I'm shutting the television off and following after him, my mind lingering on the letter still underneath the couch. With the stupid fucking heart beside my name.

Dad and I work in silence as he slathers up two steaks in A1 sauce and I throw some potatoes on to boil, turning the burner up high so they'll get done faster. I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms as he works and he smiles at me.

"You okay, kiddo?" he asks, his basting brush hovering just above the steak. Sauce drips from the bristles slowly and I stare at them instead of my dad. He hasn't called me 'kiddo' in a long time and it's strange to hear him say it now.

"Yeah," I say quietly. He doesn't immediately return to preparing the steaks and I look up at him, nodding once. "I'm fine, just been a long day."

Dad smiles in response and he's back to basting. I move through the kitchen, feeling the tension in my gut. It's kind of similar to the shaking but at least this isn't obvious to everyone around me. It comes with the same familiar feeling of terror but at least this isn't brought on by smashing glasses or angry fists. Just by dad asking if I'm okay. Cool. Good to know.

"You want to come outside with me while I cook?" he asks. I could easily say no and tell him I'll be inside keeping an eye on the potatoes. But you can see the stove from the patio and I don't want to do anything to disrupt the way he's acting. He's almost nice right now and I haven't experienced that in a long time.

"Sure, lemme grab my phone," I tell him, crossing back through the kitchen and into the living room. I hear the back door slide open and I pick my phone up from the couch cushions. An unread text from Alex is in my inbox and I pause to read it over, checking the back door before I do.

From: Alex

I'm a little surprised you didn't just show up to work anyway :P How'd tryouts go?

I roll my eyes at his use of the smiley face and tap out my response as I move through the kitchen. I pause typing to pull open the back door and step out onto the patio with dad. He looks up as I come outside and gives me a smile. I do my best to return it before I'm focused on my phone again.

To: Alex

You can sleep soundly tonight. Casper High once again has hold of the best quarterback in town

I click my screen off again, dropping the device into my pocket. I move to lean against the railing of the patio, staring out into the back yard. Dad and I used to take turns mowing the lawn but last summer he just quit. I've been taking care of it ever since and I can't wait until it's finally cold enough for the grass to just die.

"Who were you texting?" dad asks, slapping the meat onto the grill with a sizzling noise. I close my eyes to the sound and try to remember the last time we grilled out like this. I think mom was still with us. I can't remember exactly, it all kind of runs together sometimes.

"Alex," I tell him, crossing my arms as I lean forward. There's a slight wind today, reminding us that summer's ending soon and we should get used to the cooling temperatures. If I'm working on a car or throwing a football, I don't care what the weather's like.

"He asking you about work?"

I exhale softly and turn to face dad, leaning my back against the railing instead. This position puts more strain on my ribs but I can see the stove now. "Nah, he was asking about tryouts," I respond. The best way to eat steak is with a Budweiser but I doubt dad'll go for that. He likes to sometimes remember that I'm still underage. And honestly, the longer I keep him away from the alcohol the better.

We fall silent as he cooks the steak and the smell finally reaches me, making my stomach growl. It's loud in the silence and dad points it out, laughing a little when it happens again just seconds later. I make a shitty joke about how he should have made me two instead and he laughs again.

I don't remember the last time it was this carefree between us but it's hasn't been this way in a long time. He was nice when I injured my calf muscle but it wasn't the same as this is. Right now, I feel okay and the tension in my gut slowly leaves without turning into the shaking. I'd kill for a thousand more days like this one. And I think for a few minutes, I pretend that those thousand days are real and I'm just living in one of them.

A/N: Heyo readers! Thanks for reading this update! This chapter was a bit more difficult to write than I'd anticipated. Particularly cause I hate making Dash's dad seem nice...? I have a feeling it's gonna get much worse the more I have to do this.

So, sadly there's not much interaction between the boys in this chapter but the next one does, for sure. I always miss it when they're not interacting. It is a slow burn though so I'm trying to have patience as it all starts going. Hopefully you guys will look forward to the next one! As you guys can probably tell, Dash is used to just pushing his problems away and dealing with them never or waiting until someone else deals with it. Which is why he just can't open the letter yet. But he will, all in his own timing.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this one! Please let me know what you think in the reviews - it really does help me with motivation.