The first thing West saw when he opened his eyes the next morning was a caged chandelier hanging from the stark white ceiling.
A little to his left and he was blessed with the sight of an angelic Killian smiling down at him, unruly blonde hair sticking out in different directions. Somehow he still managed to look as radiant as ever.
"Were you watching me sleep?" He asked, his voice still sluggish from sleep.
"Yes."
West grinned at that, "Creep."
He sat up from the unbelievably soft bed to take in his surroundings, and was instantly hit with a blinding pain at the front of his head. If that was what drinking did to people, you'd think they'd stop. Some things were worth suffering for, but definitely not this.
He didn't recognize anything in the room, or where they were. The last thing he remembered was passing out in the backseat of his car after they'd left Killian's house. He'd been drunk, was it possible that they'd spent the night here together? Spent the night as in spent the night, quotation marks. He'd be really pissed at himself if he couldn't remember that.
"Did we... y'know?" He asked in a barely audible tone, like he was trying hard for the zero people in the room with them not to hear what he said.
"No, relax. I just bought you here so you wouldn't have to deal with Paul."
West stuck his head under the covers, and sure enough, his underwear and socks were still attached to his body. Relief washed over him.
"Are you guys naked?" A muffled voice asked from the other side of the door.
"No!" Killian yelled.
The raised voices made West reactively press his fingers against his temple, everything hurt. "Is that Simon?"
Once Simon confirmed that they weren't in the nude, he burst in carrying a glass with his special hangover cure; raw egg, two shots of tequila and tomato juice.
He stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on the two boys' bare chests. He didn't want to imagine what the sheets were hiding.
"I thought you said you weren't naked!" A hand flew to his face, and covered his eyes.
"What, you never seen a guy's chest before?" Killian retorted.
"Not my son and his boyfriend's, no."
West drew the sheets to their necks, a sigh escaping his lips, "We're good."
Simon uncovered his eyes, then approached the right side of the bed, "Drink this," He offered to West, "It'll make you feel better."
West's face twisted as he peered into the glass, it looked like something a dog had thrown up. Smelled like it, too. The stench of the tequila only put him off more. "I feel fine, thanks." He lied, "We'll be out of your hair in a minute."
"Oh," Simon said, a dejected feeling settling in, "You're leaving already?"
"We don't want to hold you up. Don't you have to go back to New York?"
"Not right now... I was hoping to spend a little time with you before I left."
"Oh."
"Unless, you two have other plans..." He trailed off.
West raised an eyebrow at Killian, a question hanging in the air.
Killian only shrugged.
"I guess we could stay."
--
"I'm sorry I wasn't much help last night. And, for getting you drunk." Killian expressed whilst the two were eating breakfast. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a few other unnecessary sides that the inn served every morning.
"You didn't get me drunk."
"Maybe if I wasn't being so mean, we'd have spent the night doing other stuff instead of you stuck drinking punch the entire night. "
"Well, can't do much when you're in one of your moods."
"I have moods?" Killian asked horrifiedly, tiny pieces of pancake flying out of his mouth, hitting West square in the face.
He flinched when the bits of moist food hit his skin. It was a disgusting sensation, but he didn't have the energy to do more than shake his head at Killian, and even that roused the headache he felt behind his eyes.
He swiped a serviette from the table, then wiped his face clean.
"Sorry--" Killian didn't get to finish his sentence before his phone rang. He lifted it to his ear, and spoke.
Linda was furious on the other end of the line.
Killian was apologizing excessively, she was yelling intensely, West was cringing inwardly. He hoped for Killian's sake, that she'd calm down before he arrived.
"I left without telling her where I was going last night." Killian admitted after the brief call. "I'm taking your car, but I'll bring it by later."
He didn't even wait for West's response before sprinting out of the inn, he just had to make it home before Linda called the police to report a missing child. She remained, ever the dramatic.
The whole episode reminded West that he'd also slept out last night, he pulled out his phone to call Paul, but the text messages he'd sent West last night meant that he was still at the hospital.
How long did labor last, anyway?
"Where did Killian go?" Simon asked as he sat down across from West with a plateful of toast.
"He had to leave."
"You don't have to stay..."
West couldn't help but like Simon, he seemed like a gentle enough person. Deep down, he wished he was raised with the love and compassion which obviously came easily to Simon. It was too late for that now, but he wanted him in his life.
"I think I will."
"You should go clean up, then," Simon grinned eagerly, "We'll go explore the town."
West left the breakfast bar, then headed up to Simon's room to take a much needed shower, he hoped it would alleviate some of the aches and pains he was feeling.
When he was done, he got on his dress shirt and pants, then slipped into the bedroom once again. He was surprised to see Simon waiting for him on the bed, a grey top and jeans in his hands. He thought he would've taken longer to eat, or maybe he just took an extra long shower.
Simon handed West the clothes, and he gracefully accepted them. "Thank you."
He also didn't wait for him to leave the room before undressing. Simon was about to give West his privacy, when he noticed a straight line cutting through his ankle, the scar that remained after Paul had fractured it.
"What happened there?" He asked, his curiosity peaked.
West's eyes drifted to the scar marring his flesh, many of them had faded over time, but he was certain that that one would remain there forever. It was the first injury he ever had that needed surgery.
"Oh..." He said, the memory of the incident flashing through his mind and leaving as quickly as it appeared. "Broke my ankle while skating."
He never ran out of excuses for the injuries he sustained during that dark period of time.
"I used to skate." Simon stated, not detecting an iota of deceit. He was just glad they had something in common.
"Yeah?"
"If I weren't a model now, I probably would've gone pro."
"I wanted to..." West revealed as he slipped into the grey shirt, it was a little baggy, but nothing too noticeable. "Then I found something I loved more."
"I can relate."
--
"You're not mad at me for last night, are you?" West questioned as they strolled through the small waterfront town.
Oxford was notably smaller than Easton, there couldn't be more than 700 people living in it. It was colder, too. Or maybe that was just fall setting in.
In the distance, he could see the ferry making it's way across the water. He'd never been aboard a ferry before, but he knew he wasn't missing out on much.
"Should I be?"
"Well, technically you are my Dad, so I would assume so."
A strange feeling took shape in Simon's chest as soon as West said that.
He was someone's Dad, he never realised how much he wanted that until now. Until West.
"Killian explained everything to me." He assured amicably, "This Clancy kid sounds like a real douche."
West shrugged his shoulders, "I don't... know him well enough to comment on that."
Simon nodded, and they continued their leisurely walk around the town.
They stopped for a bit to get some cinnamon mocha coffee at a corner shop before they sat on a bench overlooking a fleet of fishing boats idling in the water.
"How long have you been with Killian?"
"We were friends... sort of, for a few months, but we've been together--officially, for two."
"You love him?"
The question caught him off guard, he hadn't given himself time to sort through the feelings he had for Killian. He definitely felt something, something more than just like. "I..."
Simon lifted a hand up to stop West as soon as he saw the expression on his face, he hadn't meant to put him on the spot. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I just-- he seems like a nice kid is all. I can tell he really cares about you."
"I care, too."
"So..." West went on, deciding to steer the conversation into another direction, "Do you know who your real parents are?"
"I don't remember much about them. But when I do, it's always just an image of a faceless dark haired woman, dropping me off at a children's park to play... and then suddenly, the sun is setting, and it's getting dark, and I'm crying hysterically, and I'm all alone."Â Simon disclosed, a dark look taking over his features.
"That is... horrifying." To say the least... sounds like the plot to a really sad horror movie.
West didn't know whether to change the subject or to place a comforting hand on Simon's shoulder. He didn't know how receptive he was to other people's touches.
Upon noticing the conflicted look on West's face, he broke out into a grin, "I'm kidding."
West didn't laugh at that. "Oh."
Simon sighed, then looked West dead in the eye, "They were meth addicts who sold me for drugs."
"What-- How is that any less horrifying?"
"The old woman they sold me to actually took care of me, I called her Gammy. But, I don't remember much from that period, I was 5, for goodness sake. Someone eventually called social services on her, though."
West stared at Simon in utter bewilderment.
Was he being truthful this time? It seemed like it, but he also could've been joking once again.
"I dabble in a bit of dark humor." Simon added when West didn't laugh.
It took a bit for that sentence to register in West's mind, but once it did, he got over his shock and cracked a smile. At least now he knew where he got his terrible sense of humor from. "So, which one is it?"
"I'll let you take a good guess."
--
Back in Easton, Harper was hard at work trying to get his graduation speech ready. He was the Valedictorian, so he had to work extra hard to make sure that it was perfect.
Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't sleeping with his math teacher to get good grades, he'd always been the smart kid, even though his recent behaviors had left much to be desired.
The new waitress at Don's Diner approached his table again, refilling his coffee cup for the third time in a row.
He lifted his head from his notes for the first time since he got there, getting a good look at her. She had green eyes with specks of orange in them, he always thought green eyes were the prettiest. Her kinky hair was coiled up into a bun, but there were strands of curly hair poking out of the... whatever she used to tie her hair into a bun, he wasn't familiar with girl's hair accessories, but it was obviously too small, threatening to take apart her whole hairstyle. He could picture her with her hair untied, her afro probably reaching just past her clavicle. In his mind, it was truly a beautiful sight.
'Thank you..." Harper said, his eyes dropping down to the nametag slightly above her chest. "Mary."
He considered asking for a number to go with the name, but the whole process of getting to know someone seemed like a drag to him, now.
She nodded, then went off to fetch someone else's order from the kitchen.
All too suddenly, the person he'd been staying away from slid into the chair across from him. Had he been in the diner the entire time? Was he stalking him? He didn't want to know the answers to those questions.
"Could we talk?"
"Yeah, thanks, but no thanks." He gathered up all the notes that he'd scribbled and stuck them into a folder and into his backpack. He was leaving.
"Wait, wait... I just want to apologize." George said. His shoulders were slumped, dark rings extremely prominent on his face. Didn't seem like he'd eaten in days either, something was definitely up. He seemed... different... defeated, almost.
Nothing like the overconfident man who'd thrown him away like trash, not so long ago.
"For what exactly?" Harper asked in a less than amused tone, "Lying about having a whole family, telling your fiancee who I was, and then, having her verbally attack me in public, or for taking advantage of me?"
George sighed heavily, his elbows balancing his arms as he shoved his head into his hands, "I don't have... a family. Not anymore."
"Sucks for you."
"No, I mean, I don't have anyone. Stacy lost the baby.... and, she blames me. The stress was just too much for her and the baby, so..."
"Yikes." Harper expressed flatly. The baby didn't deserve to die. They were the only innocent one, he felt bad.
For the baby, not for their... for lack of a better word, evil parents.
"She went back to her mother's. I don't think she's coming back."
Harper couldn't find it within himself to care about George's plight. He could be on fire, begging to be put out and Harper would drink the water that was supposed to come to George's aid. That's how little he cared about the man he thought he was in love with, now. What a waste of tears and good Acrtic Monkeys songs.
He slapped two, five dollar bills on the table, then slipped out of his seat, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.
"I'll be sure to say a short prayer for you guys when I give my speech tomorrow."
Not.
"Harper--"
"Bye."
_________________________________________