Vice -- a flaw or imperfection; a defect

Summary: Sometimes, it just feels better to give in. Series of one-shots, with a "Seven Deadly Sins" kinda theme.

Quote is from 2.8 (The Mistake)


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"You ok with your dad now?"

"No."

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ira

He hates that he still remembers this day.

After fifteen years, he should be free of this, it shouldn't still be a moment so fresh in his mind he can recall every second and every detail so vividly. He shouldn't still feel the resentment so strongly that it clouds his judgment and blurs his vision.

He's a big boy now, and shouldn't feel the need to mope and wallow simply because he can't stop reminding himself that this is the day his father left.

Chase cracks his knuckles, finding an odd source of relief in the action. He likes the sound, loves the feeling, and can always breathe a little easier once he's done.

It comforts him.

He pulls a bottle of beer from his fridge and takes a sip as his mind stews over memories that should have faded a long time ago.

He remembers coming home from school, sneakers crunching on broken glass, the strong and nearly acrid stench of vomit combined with alcohol assaulting his nostrils and making his stomach churn. He found his mother passed out on the bathroom floor, her face buried in the rug. He cleaned up the mess in the time it took her to wake up, only to have to deal with her recounting the details of his father's departure through her tears.

It should have been a good day; he'd found out he'd made it into the top ten of his class, figured that maybe they could all go out to celebrate and that his mother could end the night sober, for once.

Chase stares at the calendar hanging on his wall as he drinks more of his beer. He thinks that maybe he should get rid of it. But, he knows that it wouldn't really make a difference, wouldn't change anything.

From that day on, the mound of crap formerly known as his neat little life had snowballed into the shit that he just couldn't handle.

He hates that he can still remember this day.

"Goddammit," he murmurs. The bottle is thrown at the wall before he even realizes what he's doing. He doesn't even flinch when it shatters into pieces.

The phone rings, and Chase rests his head in his hands for a moment before going to answer it.

He'll clean up the mess later.

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