Late saturday afternoon, West called Paul's phone to let him know that he was returning a day early. Simon, apparently had to fly to Singapore to sign a deal with a Top modeling agency that he had bought shares in.
Maybe they forgot sending documents via email was a real thing.
Paul's phone went straight to voicemail a few times, he only picked up after the fifth time.
"Hello?" Paul grunted. He'd had a rough night. Without even realizing it, he'd slept through half of Saturday.
"Dad, hey. I'm-- Are you okay? You sound weird."
"Headache."
"Oh. Just wanted to let you know I'm an hour away. I had to leave early, Simon had to rush somewhere. "
"Yeah, alright."
"Should I stop by the pharmacy and get you some painkillers?"
"No, I think I... have a few left upstairs."
"Alright, see you soon."
As soon as Paul hung up, he threw the phone onto the coffee table and it landed on the edge. A few seconds later it hit the floor, colliding with a couple of glass bottles. Beer bottles.
"Shit!" Paul cursed as he remembered the events of the previous night. He'd drunk himself to sleep once the crippling realization that he'd be alone forever set in. In his mind, alcohol was the only thing that would always be there for him, despite how destructive it was to his health and to the relationships around him.
At least that's how he felt last night. It was a new day, and with it, came a string of regrets.
He pulled himself off the couch with a bit of effort then reached for his phone so he could call the one person who he trusted to protect West's feelings better than he could.
"Killian-- Killian, it's Paul, I need your help, please come to the house as quick as you can."
---
About fifteen minutes later, Killian showed up at Paul's house and instantly let himself in. He hadn't specified what the problem was, but Killian suspected it was a serious emergency. Paul had never called him before.
A quick sweep of the entire living room and the mess it was in, however, made him turn back in the direction he came in. "I am not getting involved in this." He muttered to himself.
Upon hearing the front door open a second time, Paul emerged from the kitchen where he'd been disposing of a couple of beer bottles. "Killian."
Outraged, He turned to face him, ready to give him a piece of his mind but Paul's guilty expression immediately watered down all the rage he felt inside.
"I can't believe you did this." Killian sighed disappointedly. "If he finds out... it would kill him."
"I know. It's my fault. I... had a moment of weakness."
Killian stared at him in bewilderment before pointing out the state of the living room. "A moment?"
It was equivalent to the destruction caused by a bunch of rowdy teenagers after a drunken, rampageous romp around the house. All that was missing was property damage.
How one person managed to do all that was beyond him. Killian wondered if alcohol gave Paul some type of superpower or something.
"Please." Paul pleaded.
Killian had a bad feeling about what Paul was asking him to do, but nevertheless, he agreed. "Just... go take a shower, I'll deal with the mess down here."
As soon as Paul disappeared into the bathroom, Killian immediately started rearranging the furniture that was out of place. He cleaned up the remaining beer bottles, then threw out the trash so as to not leave any evidence of Paul's mistake.
When he was done tidying up, he headed into the kitchen to check the cabinets for something that would help with Paul's hangover. He found some ginger lemon tea and figured that it would do since ginger was known to treat different kinds of morning sickness.
As he was making the tea, he couldn't help but imagine himself in West's shoes. He wondered if this what he had to deal with everyday, cleaning up a grown man's mess all while having to nurse his own beaten and broken body.
To say he'd been through a lot would be an understatement.
"Thanks for this." Paul said, breaking through Killian's thoughts.
He had taken a ten minute long shower then downed a few painkillers to help ease the headache. But after years of drinking the same pills to help with his morning pains, ibuprofen had seized doing the job it was meant to do.
One could confidently say Paul was immune to over-the-counter pain medicine.
"Yeah, I, uh... made you some tea."
Paul gave Killian a weak smile before accepting it. He took a sip and upon realizing how hot the tea still was, placed the cup on the kitchen counter so that it would cool down.
"Listen, I know I overstepped a few boundaries--"
Before he could get another word in, the front door opened and in strode West.
"Shit."
Paul immediately abandoned the tea then made his way into the living room with Killian following close behind.
"Killian?" West uttered in surprise.
His boyfriend looked like he'd just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Paul too. "What are you doing here?"
"Uh, surprise?"
West sat his overnight bag on the couch while looking back and forth between Killian and his dad skeptically. A feeling of unease gnawed at him but he chose to ignore it, opting to convince himself he was just being paranoid.
"Paul told me you were coming back early, so..."
"Okay..." He nodded, though not entirely convinced. "I'm starving, who wants some pizza?"
Killian and Paul exchanged looks then shrugged.
The four large pizzas arrived some thirty minutes later and they all dug in.
"Tell us everything." Killian gushed, "Is Simon really rich? What's he like? Is he that model dude we saw on twitter? I bet he is, isn't he?"
"Woah, slow down." West chuckled as he picked the pepperoni off his second slice of pizza, "Can we just enjoy the food first?"
"Fine, but you're spilling all the details later."
West agreed and they went back to stuffing their faces, making snide comments every few minutes at the show that was playing on TV.
Once everyone was full and satisfied, West collected all the empty pizza boxes and instead of using the small bin in the kitchen, decided to throw their garbage into the large bin on the front yard. Killian and Paul were too focused on Who wants to be a millionaire to even notice.
He folded the pizza boxes up then stuffed them inside, as soon as he did that, he heard a clinking sound from the bottom of the bin as the boxes collided with the poorly hidden beer bottles.
Deep down he knew what that sound was. He was well acquainted with it, after all, but he had to be sure.
He extracted the pizza boxes and the black refuse bag used to conceal the bottles. It was Paul's favorite brand.
West's heart dropped to his stomach. His gut feeling was right after all.
He slammed the bin shut and carried the plastic bag into the house.
Paul and Killian were still distracted by the show, but were instantly startled when West threw the bag onto the coffee table, causing a few of the bottles to break in the process.
Paul went into instant panic mode.
"You were drinking." West seethed in a low tone.
"West, please. I can explain--"
"How could you do that?"
"Hear him out, please." Killian appealed as he tried to come to Paul's defence.
"Stay out of this, Killian." West snapped. His lips curved into a shaky smile when he realized what was really going on. "Wait... is that why you're here? You had to clean up after him? Don't answer that."
Killian was momentarily stunned, West had never raised his voice at him. It was something he never wanted to experience again.
"I can't believe you dragged him into your mess. Have you no shame?"
Paul gave Killian an apologetic look and he instantly got the message. "Right. I'll... leave."
He tried to make eye contact with West as he left, but he wasn't having any of it.
West stared at the empty spot that Killian had been standing on. He suddenly felt bile rise up his throat as his mind relived him laying on that exact spot while Paul beat the living daylights out of him. It felt like it was happening all over again. He remembered how much hate he felt for his Dad in that moment, the feel of his old sneakers pounding against his stomach, the acidic taste of the chicken sandwich he'd had that day, and how he had to clean up the mess he'd made and treat the bruises he'd gotten before leaving for Brittany's house like nothing had happened prior to that.
He forced the bile back down then ran up the stairs to his room when he felt tears stinging his eyes.
A few minutes later, Paul knocked on his door, but was met with absolute silence so he just let himself in.
West sat on the bed with his limbs close to his chest and his face buried in his arms, he lifted his head when the door swung open and the first thing Paul noticed was his bloodshot eyes.
He rushed to his side, tried to put his arms around him but West cringed away.
"Please, don't." He managed to mumble.
The whole situation had bought back memories of how Paul used to mistreat him. He was a whole different person when he was intoxicated, West wondered if he would've hurt him once again if he had been around.
Probably.
Paul was starting to realize the severity of his actions, he felt unimaginable guilt and the years of abuse he'd put his son through was beginning to weigh on him, seeing West in that state, curled up into a ball on his bed, crying his eyes out, made him feel like a failure. A parent was supposed to love and care for their children, make them feel safe and protected. It was obvious he had failed in that department. He had no business being a Father in the first place.
Paul spoke up after a lengthy few minutes, "I'm sorry." He said. Though the more he apologized, the more empty those words seemed.
"How could you do that to me? To yourself. You almost died. And you don't even care."
"I do care. I just-- things got really overwhelming for me. With Simon and--"
At the mention of his biological father, West let out a bitter laugh. He wouldn't have imagined that that was what would cause his Dad to relapse. Paul had assured him that he was okay with the meet up, that obviously couldn't have been further from the truth. He was hurting and the only way he knew how to let out his frustrations was on the bottle.
"That's what this is about? You think I'm going to ride off into the sunset with Simon?"
Paul was too ashamed to admit he was scared of being left alone and forgotten, he didn't want to burden his son any more than he had already did.
"I wouldn't blame you if you did." He responded truthfully, "I'm a terrible Father, I couldn't even stick to my own words."
"Is this how it's going to be? You're going to drink yourself into oblivion every time I leave? It's going to happen, whether you like it or not. That doesn't change anything between us. You're still my Dad, you'll always be my Dad."
"I need to work on my insecurities..."
"There's a lot we need to work on, Dad."
The idea of therapy never really crossed West's mind. At least not for him, but the incident that happened earlier made him take it into consideration. It had felt so real, like he was right back there on the floor again. His stomach still ached, though he couldn't tell if it was from the way it was convulsing or a phantom pain brought on by the memory. Were memories capable of invoking physical pain?
He couldn't be too sure.
Either way, maybe he needed to see someone. His Dad and Dennis more urgently, he'd have to talk to the both of them soon.
"You'll have to speak to Regina." West added a minute later, ignoring the all too grim expression on his Dad's face. "Tell her you had a relapse."
"She won't... be too happy about that."
"Out of everyone, she's the only one who truly understands what you're going through. I'm upset right now but... I won't disregard all the progress you've made til this point. I just want you to get better. "
Forgiven... again. I don't deserve him.
"I'll try harder. For the both of us."
_________________________________________
"I am not defined by my relapses but my decision to remain in recovery despite them."â¤