A/N: Trigger warning for physical violence, abuse of a minor, excusing the action of abuser, and anxiety.
Work flows pretty smoothly until I see the obnoxiously pink Volkswagen Beetle pull in front of the shop. It's almost closing time and Alex is telling me my schedule for the week when I notice the car out of the corner of my eye. I can't stop myself from turning to look.
"Ah, fuck me," I say, not too quietly and Alex looks from me to the car. I fold my arms over my chest and move toward the car. I'm not hiding from her again. Either she tells me what's going on between us or it's over. I can't deal with her mind games and bullshit again.
Paulina steps out of her car and pushes her sunglasses back on her head, smiling when she sees me. Her steps don't falter as her heels click across the pavement and she closes the distance between us. Paulina's fingers rest against my chest but I don't uncross my arms.
"What do you want?" I try not to snap but I'm pretty sure I do. Or at least I sound pissed off. Fuck it though, I am. I'm so sick of the way she plays me like a fucking violin and I crawl back every time because she's the cheerleader and I'm the quarterback and we're the couple everyone expects.
She raises a thin eyebrow, a stuttering laugh leaving her mouth and I know it's forced. She used to laugh less like a robot but somewhere down the line, someone told her that her laugh was obnoxious or too loud or some other bullshit and I haven't heard her normal laugh since. "What, I can't come and see my boyfriend at the end of his shift?"
"So I'm your boyfriend now?" I question and her eyebrows draw down. Oh come the fuck on, she's not seriously playing stupid is she? What did she think we were doing all summer? We haven't been about anything other than sex in a long time. "When'd that happen?"
Paulina darts her gaze around the shop but I already know none of the guys are paying attention to us. They've seen her come around in the past and they know when to rib me and when to back the fuck away because she's done something to piss me off.
"Dash, you don't have to put in all the work of being a boyfriend but to everyone else, we're dating. I can't have anyone knowing that we're just having sex, okay?" she hisses, her eyes never meeting my gaze. She searches my face but she won't look at me.
I take a step back from her so her hand falls from my chest and she looks at me then, frowning. "Look. I'm willing to let the whole lunch thing yesterday slide. But you have to know how humiliating that was for me. Everyone was staring because my boyfriend was acting like we weren't dating anymore. Do you have any idea what that was like?"
God, why does it always have to be about her?
"Paulina, I can't…" Think of the words… do this anymore… pretend that we're together when it's only our bodies because my heart, god I don't think I even have one anymore. It's been too warped and destroyed by everything that's happened to me. "I don't want to pretend."
She lets out a breath, taking a step closer to me. "That's okay. If you want to actually date again, we can do that." Paulina runs a hand through my hair, smoothing it away from my forehead with a soft smile. It reminds me of when we were younger. When I was naïve enough to think that this was gonna last forever. That we'd graduate high school together and leave this town in our dust. But she's the one that's getting out, not me.
"No," I say, letting out a breath. Her hand drops from me and I jerk my own through my hair. Fuck, why is this so hard? It really shouldn't be, it's easy to just say it. "I don't want… I mean, it's… I can't date you anymore. Or do… whatever this is. It's… I don't know, Paulina, it's just fucked up."
The look in Paulina's eyes hurts. She looks like I've caused her some kind of physical pain by what I said but I can't help it anymore. Goddamn, I can't do this anymore. She's better off without me dragging her down. And she deserves someone that understands how she works and doesn't resort to avoiding her because things are a little too difficult for him. She deserves someone who isn't so fucking pathetic about everything. "I-I'm sorry, I really am, it's not-"
"I was there for you," Paulina says, her voice not quiet at all anymore. I know at least some of the guys in the shop are looking our way now and I don't think she cares. "When your mom left and you started acting like a basket case, I was there for you. I helped you, Dash. And this is how you repay me? What, by breaking up with me a week into our final year? Why can't you just pretend?"
There for me? What the fuck is she on about? "It's-"
She talks over me, preventing me from getting a word out. "No, you know what, I'm done. I'm so done with your shit, Dash. I tried for years to get you to open up to me, to get you to tell me what you were thinking or what you were feeling but you acted like a robot for most of our relationship. You didn't let anyone in because you're brooding and your feelings matter so much more than anyone else's," she snaps and I can't tell if her words are cutting like glass or knotting themselves around my throat like a noose. "You're so caught up in everything wrong with your life, you barely look at anyone else. I bet you don't know anything about my plans after graduation, do you?"
I open and close my mouth, partially because I actually don't know and partially because I can't come up with a way to respond to her. I really wish this wasn't happening in the middle of the fucking garage. This is supposed to be my place to get away.
"Didn't think so," she responds, letting out a scoff. "God, Dash, how hard would it be for you to tell me what you're feeling? What you're thinking? I wanted to help you but you closed yourself off because you're too selfish. You think no one around you understands what you're going through but we do, okay? At least I do. And you wouldn't trust me. You'd never let me in, ever. Or tell me anything. Or-"
"Because you don't fucking care," I snap, the words flying from my tongue before I can stop them. But god, I fucking mean them. She doesn't give a shit. Maybe she cared in sophomore year and a little in junior year but damn. She doesn't anymore. Paulina quit caring about my problems a long time ago and she still doesn't understand how hard it is for me to let someone in. At this point, I'm pretty sure it's fucking impossible.
She pushes her hands into my chest but there's barely any strength behind the movement. "God, I do! Why do you think I'm here? I don't want this bad shit to be happening to you but would it kill you to stop thinking about it all the fucking time? Why can't you ever just be in the moment with me? Instead of running through every possibility of what could go wrong?"
Like I enjoy the times when my mind can't stop coming up with the awful ways things could play out. The times when I can't stop wondering if I make one wrong move, something bad will happen or maybe everyone will figure out about my dad.
"It's not like I do it on purpose," I say, wishing there was more bite to my tone. If I'm not angry, I'm only confirming what she thinks. That I can't handle anything. That I'm breaking right in front of her and no amount of superglue is enough to fix my fucked up pieces.
Paulina lets out an exaggerated sigh and steps away from me, folding her arms over her chest. "Fine. We're both right then." She rolls her eyes as she looks away from me and I don't know any more if I want this back and forth over with for good. Part of me still wants to make her happy. To watch her face light up when she sees me. To be the guy she always tells me I can be. But I don't think I can be that. I don't have that kind of strength.
"I'll see you around then," she says, moving away from me and I can't stop myself from catching her by the wrist. She turns back toward me, her expression unreadable, and tugs her hand free. My grip is loose and I let her go easily. Her eyes search my face and I can't meet her gaze.
"I'm… sorry," I say, not entirely sure what I'm apologizing for. I just know that I don't want this. I always pictured us breaking up and it being pretty mutual. Or fuck, I thought it was just gonna eventually happen when she had to leave for college. And I shouldn't care because I know she meant every damn word she said but they were all true. If I could just learn not to constantly dwell on my stupid problems, I'd probably be happier.
Paulina sighs and pushes her sunglasses back onto her nose. "Like I said, I'll see you around," she says, moving across the lot and leaving me standing at the edge of the garage. Her car starts and I want to get into mine. Tear down every back road I can find while I try to come up with a fucking way this could work. A way we could both be happy. But I don't think her happiness is something she ever found in me. I can't blame her. Who would?
The shop is quiet around me as I return to my workspace, putting my tools away, wiping the grease and oil off them. While normally my coworkers would joke and cut up with me, today they're silent. We move around each other like we're all caught in some kind of choreographed performance and even Alex falls into step with all of us.
Eventually, my coworkers leave and it's just me and Alex. I know he's gonna ask what Paulina meant or what I'm thinking but I can't talk about it. There's nothing to say that she didn't already let the whole shop know.
"Dash?" Alex's voice is soft and his hand on my shoulder is even more so. I don't immediately shrug the touch off but I don't want to hug him this time. I don't need hugs. Or maybe I just don't deserve them anymore. Fuck, I don't know.
Alex squeezes my shoulder a couple times before I take a step back with a sigh, flipping the lid of my tool box closed. I flick my gaze up to his. "I'm going away after the game, won't be around Saturday or Sunday and Friday's obviously the game. So, text me my schedule if something changes."
He holds my gaze for a few seconds before his hands are on my shoulders again, looking like he wants to hug me. I steel my best pissed off expression but his response is a frown. Like he's sad for me. I don't need anyone's sympathy. I've definitely taken too much of that this year.
"I don't want to talk about it," I say before he can ask and he quickly nods, letting me know that he doesn't want me to either. He's just too nice to tell me to shut up so he'd probably let me ramble on about anything.
Alex lets out a small breath, his hands squeezing my shoulders again. "If you change your mind, you know how to reach me." His hands fall from me and that's it. The end of our touchy feely moment. I almost wish that I could talk about it. I'd kind of like his advice about this whole thing. Figure out if Paulina's right. If I'm too stuck in my problems to be in the moment with anyone.
He moves around me, shutting off some of the lights and I use my foot to push my toolbox out of the way. It's quiet between us and I try to come up with something to say. We've spent plenty of time being silent in each other's presence and it works for us but today's silence feels awkward. Like we're both waiting for the other one to speak. Fuck, why can't I come up with something to say? It should really be easy.
"So," Alex says while I'm still wracking my brains for what I want to say. He glances over his shoulder, giving me a smile. "Where are you going after the game?"
I blow out a breath, grateful that at least he's good at coming up with something to talk about. I run a hand through my hair, glancing around the shop as I talk. "Group of us are going down to the beach. Kind of a celebration after the game." It doesn't matter if we win or lose, my teammates don't need a reason to get drunk and party. Alex snorts and I turn toward him. "What?"
He shakes his head, turning off the lights over the bay we're standing in. His gaze drifts toward the television in the corner and nods toward it. "Come on, let's see what's on." Alex leads the way over there and I easily follow, getting two stools while he locates the remote. I plop down in one of the chairs and he joins me, channel flipping until we get to some kind of football game. I don't know who's playing and I have a feeling this is more so we can talk than actually pay attention to the game.
Alex leans back on the stool, interlacing his fingers behind his head with a sigh. When I steal a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, there's a small smile on his face. I flick my gaze back toward the television when he glances my way.
"Am I right in assuming you're gonna get drunk next weekend?" he asks, smiling a little when I glance at him. "Don't worry, I won't pass it back to anyone."
I roll my eyes and nod. We both know that if there's a party and I'm invited, you can bet your ass I'm getting drunk. Alcohol and me go way back and not just because my dad's a drinker. We go back because it makes me forget every fucked up thing in my life.
"I know you don't want to talk about it… but I'm guessing Paulina's one of the ones going to the beach next week," Alex says softly. Speaking of fucked up.
"Yeah, probably," I tell him, not bothering to look his way. I keep my gaze trained on the television. I don't want to look at him and see whatever he thinks of that. Honestly, before today, I wouldn't have thought twice about Paulina being there. But almost everyone working today heard our breakup so it's not like I can bullshit that we're still together.
He exhales softly. "Are you going to be okay with that?"
I roll my eyes and glance toward him, giving him a look. "I'll be fine with it." If she's around, I'll just remember to keep drinking until I pass out and hope someone flips me over if I end up face first in the sand. Wouldn't be the first time. Though I doubt Alex knows that and I'm sure as hell not telling him.
Alex gives me a smile when I look at him and it's like the tension from earlier melts away when he speaks. "So, I'm feeling like some Thai food. You want in on that?"
If ordering food and pretending my problems don't exist works, then god fucking yes, I want in on that. As long as he'll let me stay, I'll hang around. Because I really don't feel like going home. Even though dad's probably back from work, it's about the same as being alone. And I really don't want to be alone right now.
I have to park at the edge of the lawn cause there are cars in the driveway and surrounding the house and I have no idea why. I didn't invite anyone and dad hasn't in a long time. Who the fuck showed up and brought their entire extended family with them?
As soon as I walk in, something greasy hits my sense, immediately followed by the sound of laughter from the dining room. I kick my shoes off and wander further into the house, my keys still around my finger.
Dad's laughing with his coworkers when I step into the dining room and he doesn't immediately look up. Cards are spread across the table and beer bottles are in front of everyone. I don't know how long they've been playing but judging from the amount of beer on the table… I'm guessing it's a while.
The first person to notice me is dad's partner, Chuck, and he gives me a big grin when he catches sight of me hovering on the edge of the room. "Dash, hey! I was wondering where you were." Chuck stands from his chair and closes the distance between us, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Damn, you've shot grown a couple inches since the last time I saw you."
I don't remember the last time I saw any of my dad's coworkers but I force a smile onto my face at his words. "Thanks."
"How's school been?" Andrea Payne asks me, giving me a smile when I look her way. "My little sister seems to think the curriculum this year is evil."
Paula Thompson snorts, rolling her eyes at the statement. "Come on, we all used to say the same thing when we were in school." She tips her bottle and chugs a few sips before looking my way. "How's your job going?"
I force a smile again. "Everything's good, can't complain." I'm already on edge just looking at the familiar scene without mom here but I keep trying to tell myself that nothing's going to happen. Just cause he's drinking doesn't mean that he'll fly off the handle. Not as long as I stay up in my room.
Another one of dad's coworkers, Milo Emerson, looks my way with a small smile before he focuses on the cards again, gathering them up before he passes them to dad. I sweep my gaze around the table, carefully avoiding looking at my dad, before I focus on Chuck again, my smile still in place. "Well, have fun. I've got some homework to do so, I'll let you guys get back to it."
Chuck doesn't argue but as soon as I turn for the stairs, my dad calls my name. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Slowly, I turn back to him, raising an eyebrow in the silence.
Dad glances around at his coworkers before addressing me, a grin plastered across his face. Or maybe he's just plastered. Fuck, there are already two empty bottles in front of him and just the sight makes my stomach clench. "Come join us for a couple rounds. You can do your homework tomorrow."
My breath catches in my throat but I manage to disguise it with a small exhale. "Y-Yeah, I would, dad b-but I don't know how to play." I shrug, already hating myself for the tremor in my voice and for the way my heart is almost pounding as I hold his stare.
"Oh come on, I'll teach you. Here, come sit." Dad pats the empty chair next to him and I wish it were that easy. I wish I could tell my feet to unstick themselves from the floor but I can't move. My heart is still hammering in my ears and I know if I stay, I'll start shaking.
"N-Nah, that's okay. I don't want to i-interrupt," I say, flashing another smile that I'm sure is wobbly and most likely looks fake but at least it's there. At least I can still pretend that everything's okay. There's no need to clue my dad's coworkers in to the fact that when he's not busy playing the role of doting father, Howard Baxter also doubles as a professional boxer. And I'm the opponent that never signed up for the fight.
Dad glances around the table, smiling at everyone. "You guys don't mind, right?"
Everyone at the table immediately agrees and beckons me forward but I still can't move. The smile drops from my face and I can't pretend anymore. The most I can do is hide my hands behind my back because they've started to tremble slightly. "D-Dad, I really need to be-"
"Sit, Dash," he says, his gaze reaching mine again. There's something in his eyes that doesn't match the smile still on his face and that tone of voice is something I can't ignore. I feel stupid for ducking my head when he speaks and I've never been able to resist his commands before.
My legs carry me in the opposite direction of where I want to go and I sink down in the chair next to dad, keeping my gaze on the table. If I don't look at anyone, maybe I'll stop shaking and dad won't have a reason to be angry.
Dad claps me on the back and even though it's gentle, it still feels like he's aiming to bruise. I really wish there weren't so many people here. Because there's a huge chance I'll end up shaking and dropping these cards.
"Alright, we'll play a round face up – no betting," dad says, addressing the table as he glances around. "Everyone okay with that?"
His coworkers murmur their approval and dad shuffles the cards while I do my best to keep my hands beneath the table so no one can see me already shaking. As it is, Andrea keeps glancing at me from the corner of her eye. I guess she's the only one that's picking up on my nervousness because everyone else is absorbed in their cards as soon as dad starts dealing.
Everyone simultaneously flips their cards over and after a second or two of hesitation, I follow suit. A pair of Jack's stare back at me along with two four's and a seven. I don't know if that's a good or bad hand but dad starts explaining before I have time to think about it.
He goes over the various hands in poker and I barely remember most of them. Andrea occasionally interrupts with a random tidbit of knowledge about what the best way to achieve a hand is or something like that and I nod to both of them even though I'm barely hearing them. My hand is twitching beneath the table and I try to remember to breathe normally when I speak.
"Alright so… the best thing for me to do is to hold onto my Jack's and ditch the rest, huh?" I question, my hand hovering over the three cards in question. When I get the approval, I toss them into the center with everyone else's.
The play moves around the table and Andrea explains why she chose to keep her king over her ace and even though I still haven't met her gaze, I nod anyway, letting her know that I am listening. I just can't look at anyone yet. Not until my fingers agree to quit trembling.
Chuck wins the round with three of a kind and dad gathers the cards up again before he speaks, my skin pricking under his stare. "So, you understand it enough to play a few rounds? Any questions before we get going?" His hand hovers over the newly shuffled cards like he'd be willing to explain anything I'm unclear on. But I'm not asking dad to clarify anything and if I suck enough at the game, I can use that as my getaway after a few hands.
Another hand is dealt and this time, I'm given two kings and an ace. I debate on ditching the ace but I end up keeping it, chucking my low number cards into the center pile. I was barely listening to dad's explanations but I was when Andrea explained about three of a kind and the straights. That part, I got pretty well but I'm not planning on sticking around long enough to try to go for each hand. I'm just focused on three of a kind for now.
"Now we bid," Andrea says, gesturing to money in front of every player. "You don't make as much as us so we'll go easy on you." She waits until I finally turn my gaze toward her before she winks, giving me a smile with the movement. "I'll start with a dollar."
She leans forward to toss her money into the center of the table and the play moves to Paula, who raises by fifty cents. After she tosses in the necessary money, Chuck raises by another fifty cents, and Milo follows suit before dad raises by another dollar.
"If you don't want to raise, you have to call it otherwise the bidding continues," Andrea tells me and I'm so fucking grateful that she's the one sitting next to me. I dig my wallet from my back pocket and toss the necessary money in the center. As soon as I call, Andrea nudges my elbow with hers, smiling when I look at her. "I'll show first." She lays her hand face up and Paula snorts.
"No wonder you told Dash to call, your hand sucks ass," she says, grinning when Andrea flips the bird. Paula turns her cards over and shows her hand, a straight that beats Andrea's three of a kind. "If you don't recognize it, that's what we call a good hand."
Andrea rolls her eyes, nodding to Chuck sitting on the other side of Milo. "I've lost my mojo," he says, flipping his hand over to show a bunch of cards that don't match. Chuck shrugs and the play continues. Milo has a better hand but dad lays his down and owns it all with a straight flush. He's grinning and it seems like he's two seconds away from bragging so I lay my hand down. It doesn't trump dad's but it's not awful… at least as far as I know.
"Not bad, you'll get the hang of it," dad says, slapping me on the back again. It feels even softer this time but I still have to keep from flinching. I can't help it. It's become second nature to me to flinch away when dad puts his hands on me. Maybe one day I'll get better at hiding that.
Chuck tosses a dollar into the center pile before exhaling, looking toward dad with the sound. "I called Gary on the way over here. Two more phantom sightings, you believe that?"
Dad shakes his head and lets out a disgruntled sigh. Actually, all of the officers make some kind of noise and they all sound just as unhappy as he and Chuck do. A phantom sighting? What the hell are they talking about?
"What's a… phantom sighting?" I ask, glancing between everyone. I shift my gaze toward dad last, only cause I'm not used to being around him when he's annoyed but not swinging yet. I'm guessing that if we were alone, that last part probably would be different.
Milo speaks first, his arms folding over his chest as he does. "Someone's been breaking into places recently. They don't take anything and they slip in and out almost completely undetected. We caught a bit of the person on security cam two days ago but the footage is too blurry to make out anything about them. Most we got is that whoever it is, they have the build of a teenager."
"If we don't catch them, you can bet your ass there'll be a curfew in effect soon," Andrea snorts, slouching in her chair as she glances over her cards again.
I remember dad mentioning something about it but when he did, it sounded like it was the first time this kinda thing had happened. But Milo's making it out like it's been going on for a while.
"We'll figure out who it is, don't worry about that. But for now, let's play," dad responds, tossing a dollar into the center pile before he looks at me. He's smiling and it takes me a few seconds before I return it. Maybe I don't have to think about how everything's fucked up or how it could all go wrong if I piss dad off. Maybe right now, I'm just a kid playing cards with his dad.
We've played a dozen or so rounds and the cards are dealt for another hand. The tension has mostly left my gut and though my fingers still tremble a little when I'm supposed to deal, the grins I'm giving everyone are less forced than they were in the beginning. We rack up the bidding to fifteen dollars before Chuck finally calls.
I'm the last to show my hand again and dad's really confident with his flush until I lay down my hand. Three beautiful ace's and two seven's stare0 back at him and I think I notice the twitch in his eyebrow before I speak. "Looks like I win this time." I grin but I don't reach for the pile of money in the center. Something is seizing up in my chest and making me hesitate.
"Nicely played," Andrea says before leaning forward to gather the money. She pushes it toward me with a quiet tsking noise. "You're gonna clean out our wallets in no time, I swear."
I try to smile back and seem like I'm into the game but my mind is focused on dad. He's tense beside me and my nerves are returning. I didn't mean to win or tick him off like I apparently have. I was just playing like he taught me to. This is why I never wanted to do this in the first place. I can't help it that my cards were better than his, I didn't-
"That's my boy," dad says suddenly, turning to look at me. I think my heart stops when he smiles and it takes me a few seconds to understand that he's not angry. He's okay with losing to me? Shit, I was expecting something way worse than the compliment he gave me.
Chuck gathers up the cards and starts shuffling so I quickly return my gaze to the money Andrea pushed my way. I tuck the money away in my wallet again before I pick up the cards I've been dealt. I can see the numbers on my cards but my fingers are trembling and dad's voice makes me lose all concentration.
"Of course, I taught you everything you know. So, remember that," dad says and when I look at him this time, he's not grinning anymore. He hasn't touched his cards and shit, mine fall from my fingers.
I glance away for a second and Andrea picks up a card that I dropped, handing it back to me with a smile. 'Thank you' is on the tip of my tongue but the words never make it that far. Because dad speaks like he's a stone floor and I'm china hurling toward him, going a hundred miles an hour.
"Are you actually shaking, Dash? Again, really?" His voice is demanding on the question and it makes me let out a breath louder than I intended. It sounds like I'm pissed but I'm actually just terrified. I can't panic in front of all of dad's coworkers. I'll only make him angry and I can't let them see it when I make him angry.
Silence has blanketed the table and dad scoffs when I don't respond. I glance at him from the corner of my eye and he's jerking a thumb in my direction as he looks at his coworkers.
"You believe this? Cynthia used to make excuses for him, like there was something actually wrong instead of whatever the hell he's doing," dad spits and the way his tongue falls across mom's name stirs the aching in my chest. Sh-Shit, I miss her. If she were here, I wouldn't be sitting next to him while he talks about me like I'm not here.
No one says a word and I feel the flush rise to my cheeks the longer the silence extends over us. I don't expect any of them to defend me, they don't even know me… but I was hoping one of them would tell dad to back down. I don't know if he'd listen to them but anything's worth a shot.
"He gets like this and I don't fucking understand why he doesn't cut it out. He's too old to keep acting like this," dad sighs heavily before he pushes his chair back from the table. He mutters under his breath a few times before he turns back to his coworkers. "I'll be right back."
Dad disappears from the room and I keep my gaze rooted on the table, not daring enough to look up at anyone sitting across or next to me. I really didn't want them to learn this shit about me and if I could just fucking stop, everything would go back to normal.
"Are you okay?" Andrea asks and her touch on my arm makes me jump. A staggered breath leaves me and fuck, I really can't do this. I just need to bolt. Get out of here and into my car before dad gets back. I'll stay with Kwan till the weekend. Hell, maybe next weekend. I've just gotta get out of here.
My hand closes around my wallet but I don't leave my chair. Whatever is causing my heart to squeeze and pound keeps me rooted in my spot and I can't move. Everyone's silent again and I know they can hear my erratic breathing.
"So, I say we start the bidding at an automatic five dollars this time," dad says, suddenly next to me again. I didn't even hear him come in and I start a little when he speaks. He shoots me a glare in response and I tighten my hand around my wallet. Just get up and go. Get up.
Dad crosses over to the fridge and grabs another beer before he nears me again to sit down. He glances around the table before gesturing to Milo. "You gonna deal or what?"
Milo hesitates for a second before he deals a card to dad. He stops when he gets to me and his hand hovers over the deck. "You in or out, Dash?"
"He's in," dad says before I can speak and though Milo looks at him, he doesn't acknowledge what he's said by dealing me a card. Dad hasn't looked at his card yet, too busy doing what he does best – draining another bottle.
I want to say that I'm not in and get as far away as possible but I can't speak. Something has a hold on my tongue and I can't breathe. I've never disagreed with dad and I wish I could this time. I wish I had the strength to say that I wasn't interested in playing another round.
Dad suddenly slams his bottle down on the table and I know I'm not the only one that jumps at the noise. His face is getting redder and he looks like he's a few seconds away from settling this the only way we know how, him swinging and me cowering.
"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands, angling himself toward me as he asks.
"Howard, it's okay, he's-" Chuck immediately shuts up when dad shoots him a glare.
Dad hesitates a second or two before he speaks. "I wasn't asking you. I'm trying to have a conversation with my son." He turns his angry stare back at me and I can't look away from it. My hands are still shaking and even though I have them in my lap, I know he can see them. "I asked you a question, Dash."
"I-I…" My voice quickly dies and I'm able to look away from him. I can't do this. I really can't do this. I can't sit here and hear him yell at me while I can't stop shaking and everyone around me can see it happening. I just can't do this shit today.
The sound of my chair scraping against the floor as I push backwards is loud in the deafening silence and I snatch my wallet up from the table. I can't do this right now. I'm not sitting here any longer. Not when it means he's just gonna keep going.
"I didn't raise a little bitch who runs away, we're having this conversation." Dad's hand locks around my upper arm in a bruising grip and he rises from his chair, holding me in place as I struggle to make my breathing sound normal. It's not even close. I sound like I'm dying and I feel like I am too. I can't look at anyone still at the table. I don't want them to see me like this.
"Howard, come on, let him go," Milo interjects, scooting his chair back a little to look at the both of us. "Come on, just sit down and let's play another few rounds."
Dad shoots him a glare before he's focused on me again, his grip tightening even more now. "Why do you do this all the damn time, Dash? Do you like the attention or some shit? You want people to feel sorry for you?"
"Cut it out, Baxter," Andrea says, leaving her chair with the words. When I dart my gaze over to hers, she's crossed her arms over her chest and looks really pissed off. I still can't breathe and somehow, dad's grip tightens again, forcing a half-whimper out of me.
Chuck leaves his chair too and claps a hand on dad's shoulder. "Howard, come on. I think you've had a few too many." He squeezes dad's shoulder and dad responds by pushing him away with one hand, turning me around with the other.
The breath is knocked out of me when he shoves me back into the wall but I don't have long to recover before dad's throwing a bottle my way. I manage to duck in time but it shatters against the wall and a small shard of glass glances off and into my cheek.
"Howard, stop!" Chuck grabs my dad's arm and pulls him backward. "Stop it, he hasn't done anything!" He drags dad backward a couple of steps and when Chuck's gaze meets mine, I bolt.
My feet don't stop pounding until I'm outside and halfway down the street in front of the house. The bottoms of my feet are stinging from hitting the pavement and I'm sucking in breaths like I'm strangling. Every muscle in me is tensed and I grab handfuls of my hair, trying to find something to hold onto. Anything will work at this point. I just need something to cling to, cause I'm fucking losing it.
I pace in the middle of the road for a few minutes, trying to figure out what the hell I'm gonna do but I always end up back to the decision that if I'm gonna take off, I'll at least need my shoes. I'm too chicken to go back inside and get them so I end up on the hood of my car, staring at the empty street as the crickets sing.
Time moves slowly but too soon my front door opens and people start trickling outside. Paula looks my way a few times and seems to hesitate outside her car but she just gets in and drives off without saying anything. Her headlights blind me as she passes by and I'm blinking away the image in the darkness. It's not until he clears his throat that I realize Milo is standing next to my car.
He offers a smile that's half hidden by the darkness of the night and I can't find it in me to return it. Milo exhales softly, taking a small step closer to my car. "You… you doing okay?" he asks, concern taking over his features.
Okay is a relative term. It depends on my definition of the word on the day I'm asked that question. If 'okay' means alive, yes, I'm okay. If it means am I doing as well as I can, yes, I'm okay. If it means that I managed to get through that situation and not break… sorry. I'm not okay.
I shrug in response and he glances back at the house for a split second. "Does that…. Happen often?" he asks and the fucking innocence in his stare kills me. I can't ruin it all by saying that it does. It happens whenever dad's angry or been drinking and fucking save me if it's the combination.
"Not really," I lie, my voice scratchy from lack of use. I've stopped shaking for the most part but I can still feel the tension in my gut, waiting to remind me of the fact that I'm so fucking pathetic, I panicked in front of my dad's coworkers.
Milo's frown deepens like he doesn't believe me and I wish he would. If he believed me, he'd get into his car and he'd drive away and forget about me. If no one's worried about me, I'm not bothering anyone. "Dash, your father is… well, he can be…"
"An asshole," Andrea finishes for him, coming to a stop next to my car. Her arms are crossed over her chest and even in the dim lighting I can tell how pissed she still is. I wonder what happened after I left. I can't even imagine what they all think of me now.
She looks me over, probably looking like a fucking child sitting on the hood of my car with my arms around my shins. "You doing okay?" she asks me, stepping a little closer to my car. After a second or two of hesitation, she uncrosses her arms, laying her palms against the hood of my car. "Seriously, your dad's an asshole. You don't have to put up with his shit if you don't want to."
I don't want to. But I have to.
"It's okay," I lie, giving them both a shrug accompanied with a forced smile. "He just gets like that when he's been drinking. He always apologizes in the morning, it's fine."
Andrea frowns, tapping her foot against the grass. "It's not fine, Dash. You shouldn't have to put up with that at all." She bites on her bottom lip before adding, "You know you can talk to someone, right? I'll back you up if you want me to. I can-"
"N-No," I interrupt, hating the way my voice stutters. I've only got another year with him and I'll be on my own. I can't fuck that up by getting anyone involved. "Really, I'm fine." There's no way to tell her that I can't leave because she'd argue and come up with a way where I could. But I can't. Not now.
I slide off the hood of my car and my feet touch the pavement, cooler than it should be on an early fall night. "I'm just gonna… head inside to do some homework. Maybe grab a shower." I jerk my thumb toward the outside of my house and start up the grass, not bothering to look back at them. They're not here to hold my hand and walk me through this. He's my dad, I'm supposed to be able to handle it at this point.
Neither one of the officers stop me as I go and I step inside my house again, already feeling the tension return to my gut. I have no clue where dad is but Chuck is standing in the middle of the living room, looking like he was heading for the door.
"Dash, hey," he says, crossing the room to me. He squeezes my shoulders gently, offering up a smile. "How you holding up?" He asked me the same question when mom left. I don't know how to feel about it being reused now just cause dad threw a bottle at me.
I shrug. "Fine."
Chuck frowns a little and moves one hand to my face. I briefly wonder what the fuck he's doing before I feel a small pinch and he moves his hand away with the piece of glass in it. He hesitates a second before he squeezes my shoulder again. "Dash, your dad's… he's a good man, son. He's just not that good at showing it."
My stomach hits the floor and I didn't think it was possible to feel lower than I did outside. "Yeah." I don't know what else to say because I can't argue. Chuck's just letting me know that he believes it too. It's not dad, it's me. I'm the reason he gets angry and I'm the reason he hits. I make him angry and I have to put up with the consequences.
"It's gonna be okay," Chuck says, trying to reassure me with another shoulder squeeze.
I shrug his hands off me and nod, stepping back so he can get to the door. I just want to take a shower before I crawl into bed and forget this day happened. The sooner Chuck leaves, the sooner I can do that shit.
He offers me a smile again before he takes his leave, and I push the door shut behind him. I turn the lock, wishing it was dad I was locking up behind. If he weren't here, I wouldn't be trying to hold myself the fuck together.
I cut out the lights in the living room before I start for the stairs. As soon as I stop at the bottom of them, I hear dad's voice. The blood freezes in my veins because now we're alone and he can do whatever damage he wants and there won't be anyone to stop him. I sure as hell can't.
"Dash… c-come here…" dad slurs from his position at the kitchen table and I slowly turn back to face him. He's got his hand clamped around a beer bottle and the shards of the one he threw at me are still on the ground behind his chair. I can't help it when my gaze lands on that first. "D-Dash, please."
I don't know how to do anything other than give in so I do. My footsteps are light as I move to him, stopping at the end of the table. I'm within hitting distance now but the way he's slurring and propped up on the table makes me think he wouldn't be able to hit me if he tried.
Dad looks up at me, with watery eyes and abandons his bottle, in favor of grabbing the front of my shirt. "D-Dash, I… I didn't mean to. Please, you ha-have to believe me, I didn't m-mean to hurt you. I-I wouldn't do that! That's not wh-who I am!" He hiccups as tears stream their way down his face, his skin blotchy and red. He blinks at me, sniffling in the silence, and I guess I'm supposed to respond.
"I-I know," I mumble, feeling my stomach tighten when dad tugs on my shirt, trying to draw me closer. I don't want to let him but I step closer until he's resting his cheek on my chest and sobbing freely. He starts going off about missing mom again, about how everything would be better if she were here and I can't take this. I can't listen to him talking about mom again and I can't be the one that's here for him anymore. I know how fucking badly it hurts to be here without mom but we were united against him. I'm not switching sides in the middle of this battle.
Dad continues to sob against my chest and I let him. I don't hold him like I probably should. And I don't tell him it's okay. I just let him cry and I break a little more. I can't be strong for him, I just can't. I'm barely strong for me. How am I supposed to have strength for the same person that robs me of it?
I help dad to his bedroom and pull his shoes off before he crawls into bed. I take his phone from him and pull the covers up around him before he speaks.
"Th-Thank you… Dash." His eyes are drifting closed and even though I just want to get away from him and get in my own bed, I sink down on the edge of his, letting out a breath. I don't know how to tell him that he's welcome for putting up with his shit. For acting like it wasn't a big deal in front of his coworkers so he can go into work in a few days and pretend that he just had too much to drink.
Dad shifts a little on the bed and he lets out a soft sigh. I hate that he sounds so peaceful while I've spent the better half of today trying to hold myself together. Between Paulina and dad, I've barely made it to this moment. God, when did everything get so fucked up?
I wait until his breathing steadies before I rise from his bed. I move back through the house and hesitate at the bottom of the stairs. The table's still littered with beer bottles and I hate waking up to that. Oddly enough, it's just not high on my list of good ways to wake up.
After the bottles are in the trash and I've swept up the broken glass, technically I'm free to go upstairs and forget that tonight happened. But the part of me that still insists I can try to be a good son won't let me leave yet. I find myself heading into dad's room with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin for tomorrow when he wakes up hating himself for consuming that much alcohol.
I set the bottle and water down on his nightstand and glance around the room. There's not much for me to do so I move his shoes out of the way so he won't trip over them when he wakes up. I look around once more before I start for the doorway.
"Dash…?"
Dad's voice has always made me stop in the middle of whatever I'm doing and right now isn't any different. I hesitate for a second before I turn back to him. I shouldn't have come back in here. He's just gonna be pissed off again. I was just trying to help him out but I shouldn't have even bothered. Dad's just gonna-
"Thank you… for always staying…" he mumbles softly and I wish he'd been angry instead. As he quietly drifts off again, I'm left to walk away and try to piece together my heart. He's thanking me for something I can't control anymore. Something that's so ingrained in me, I don't know how to do anything other than stay.
After mom left, I came home on a night just like this one, to find dad passed out drunk at the table. I helped him to bed and sat with him like I did tonight. But that ended differently.
I made a promise that night. I'd never leave Amity Park. I promised I'd never do what mom did to him. Even if I somehow found a way out of here, I can never leave. No matter how fucked up things get between us, I promised dad I'd always be here.
My shower doesn't last long because I'm more concerned about getting in bed and forgetting today happened. Everything really kinda took a toll on me. It's just before midnight and I'm ready to sleep for a year. If I could just go to sleep and not wake up, that'd be perfect. Best way to go.
I close my door and turn out the light before I'm diving onto my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. I ease my pajama pants off and toss them onto the floor, my shirt quickly following. It's not summer weather anymore but I sleep in boxers until winter really hits and I think my nuts are gonna fall off.
I'm settled under my blankets and really comfortable when my phone vibrates on the floor. A groan leaves my mouth and it's loud in the silence. The noise is a little satisfying so I make it again when my phone vibrates a second time. I don't really want to leave my bed so I slide as close to the edge of the mattress as I can, crushing probably some important parts as I stretch to reach my damn phone.
Just as my hands close around it, another text comes through and I turn the screen over, quickly sliding my thumb across the unlock area. Three texts from Danny are waiting and I take a minute to flop back onto my mattress before I read them.
From: Danny Fenton
So I think I've found a way to make algebra easier for you
From: Danny Fenton
Btw, what time are you coming over this weekend? Just so I kind of know and can plan a little better for it
From: Danny Fenton
That's not meant to sound like I'm setting up some big elaborate thing, haha. I just mean like so I can be downstairs and my dad won't have to find me for you
I can already tell he's probably tapping out another message, another explanation because I haven't responded yet, so I beat him to it.
To: Danny Fenton
Can I call u?
I don't want to have to type everything out right now and I hate the silence. I hate being alone after dealing with dad. I'd rather go to bed sporting bruises than whatever the fuck I'm feeling. The kind of shit that doesn't show.
From: Danny Fenton
Um… sure?
I don't waste any time hitting Danny's name and pressing the call option, waiting while it rings on my end. There's dead air when he answers the phone and it lasts for a few seconds before he speaks. "Hello?"
I stretch onto my back, letting out a sigh. "Yo," I respond. I doubt dad can hear me from downstairs but I'm still conscience of my volume level. I don't want to disturb him and risk seeing what happens when he wakes up still drunk. "So, I can't come over this weekend. I forgot that there's this annual trip after the first game. Don't know why it slipped my mind but I can't make it this weekend."
"Oh."
His response is so soft and quiet, I don't really know how to take it. I can't tell if that's a disappointed 'oh' or not. I've heard him say it before but this one sounds gentler, like he doesn't want me to know he's disappointed. Then again, how fun was tutoring really going to be? Unless his new way of tutoring me was gonna be something amazing. Then that'd explain the disappointment in the 'oh'. …am I really analyzing a sound from someone?
"Yeah, sorry," I say, letting out another breath as I close my eyes, listening to the silence of my neighborhood. I remember when I was a kid, I could hear the sound of cars passing through my neighborhood, especially at the end of summer. All the tourists would get lost at some point and drive through our subdivision, trying desperately to find their way out. Usually one of my neighbors would feel sorry for them and give them directions. But It's been years since any tourists have come to sleepy Amity Park.
I clear my throat, the silence scratching at my brain. "Do you think I can come by your house after school this week? Or tomorrow maybe?"
"N-Not tomorrow!" Danny almost squeaks when he says it. He lets out a breath and I can hear it through the phone. He sounds nervous. I don't know why tomorrow won't work for him but I hope it's not because of some awful reason. "Um, h-how about Wednesday? My mom'll be working late and my dad has plenty of things to entertain himself with s-so, it'll practically be just you and me."
Why does it sound like he's trying to have me over at a time when both of his parents are busy? I try not to let my mind wander but fuck… what's he hiding? Do his parents hate him having people over? I don't let people come over here that often because of dad. No clue if Fenton has another reason why he doesn't want me over but I'd hate to put him in some kind of awful position with his parents.
"Listen man, if it'd be easier to meet in public somewhere, I'm fine with-"
"N-No, that's okay. Um… it should be fine at my house, don't worry about it!" He sounds confident when he says it and to most people, I'm sure they'd take him at his word. But I call bullshit. I know what that looks and sounds like.
I roll onto my side, resting my phone on my pillow. Minimum requirement of effort achieved. Way easier to doze off this way and I can feel exhaustion pulling at me. "Alright, Wednesday works for me then." I'll have to text Alex tomorrow and tell him I'm only coming in on Monday and Tuesday then. He wouldn't give me Thursday because he wanted me to have twenty-four hours to prepare for the game. Don't know why. It's not like it'll make a difference whether we win or lose. Either we've trained enough for this game or we haven't.
"So, um… I know what I want in exchange for tutoring you," Danny says, his voice soft in the darkness surrounding me and I'm instantly more awake.
"You do?"
Danny exhales into the phone and I hear a door close on his end. I try to picture where he's at in his house but I can't. I'm drawing a blank on everything I try to imagine. "Yeah. I want you to teach me what you know about cars. Just… enough to impress someone."
I'm already grinning before he's finished talking. "Oh, you got a girl you're looking to impress?" I ask, unable to hold back the laugh when he squeaks. Either out of embarrassment or surprise, I don't know. And I really don't care. I'm gonna have a lot of fun teasing him about this.
But really, who the hell is he trying to impress? In my experience, most girls don't care about cars. At least, not the actual 'how it works' stuff. They just like when you're able to fix their car without a trip to the garage.
"W-Will you teach me or not?" Danny asks softly and I think I hear nervousness in his tone. Like maybe he's worried I'll laugh at him. Weird thing is, if it was anyone else, I probably would laugh at them. Who the fuck is going to put all this work into learning something just to impress someone? But I don't want to laugh at Danny.
"Yeah man, I'll teach you whatever you want to know. I'm working Monday and Tuesday this week so if you can come by after school, I'll show you some different shit. Otherwise, we'll figure out when you can come by next week. Sound good?"
"S-Sounds good to me," he mumbles and I can still hear that nervousness in his tone. Hopefully by the time I start showing him some different stuff at the garage, he'll be more confident that I won't laugh at him or make fun of him because of this. Something about him makes me want to help, not make fun of him. And if he only wants my help with cars, then I'll help him with some cars.
The silence isn't so loud with Danny on the other end of the phone and when we finally mention hanging up, I'm falling asleep before we say goodnight. Thanks, Fenton. That's twice you've saved me from being pathetic just cause I'm alone in my room.
A/N: Yoooo!
Another Tuesday means another chapter for this fic. I've been reading through your thoughts on everything I talked about last week and I really appreciate it. You are all so kind and encouraging. It's so great to be a part of something that's so supportive. You're the best.
So, thanks to your comments and reviews, I've decided to keep everything and attempt to post more often. I'm not sure how it'll work yet with my schedule but I'll make an effort to post at least once a week. So, every Tuesday, check this fic out. There'll most likely be an update. Now, on to this chapter!
This is quite a long chapter, over 10k words. Damn. There are several places in this chapter where I could have split it perfectly but I didn't want to break it up. The contents of this chapter really felt like something that should be told in one go. I hope you guys don't mind it. There are plenty more this length or longer in the future. Just so you're all prepared.
I prefer to put trigger warnings at the beginning of chapters just so you're all aware of what's happening in this chapter before you go into it, but I try not to spoil anything. As someone that's dealt with abuse in the past, I'm always very grateful to those fic authors that choose to warn throughout the story. I know no one has to if they just tag it with that thing but it's nice when they do anyway. That way, I know to read the chapter when I'm in a better head space.
The title of this chapter comes from "Chaser" by The Wonder Years. Suuuuch a great band. The song is so Dash too. I had to take out a space between two of the words there because fanfiction capped out on the title space. Anyone know why it's so short?
There's a whole verse in "Chaser" that I feel really fits past Dash of this fic as well as present Dash but the line I chose for this chapter is especially him. It's immediately followed by "I'm learning how to put the pieces back together. And turn the aching to composure." Just, you guys. That song. So Dash.
Soooo, the poker game. When I originally wrote this chapter, I didn't have that scene in here but I went back to this chapter probably in July or so and put it in because I knew I wanted it to happen before a few future events. So, you guys get more abuse earlier than originally planned. Poor Dash though, he can't catch a break. Between Paulina and his father and his mom, just ugh. I should probably feel bad about the shit I put him through but... naaaah.
Return of Daaaaaannnnyy! Again, it's just a couple of text messages but still. He'll be coming around pretty soon. And their tutoring session is quite interesting, I think you guys will like it. These poor nerds just need to kiss and hug each other, clearly. They both need all the support they can get and what better place to get it than each other? No, I'm not saying that just because they're my OTP. What? No. Shush.
Anyway. Thanks for reading and being supportive, I super appreciate you all. I love writing this story and honestly, I don't know how long it'll get before it's done and over with but so far, I'm still enjoying everything about it. The process of writing it, editing, as well as posting it. I love coming on here and seeing all of your thoughts and speculations. You guys make this whole thing even more fun.
So, thanks again, I super appreciate it! Let me know what you think of this chapter, see you in the next one!
