Fatal Obsession (BxB)

S3:C26; Let's Wrap This Shit Up

The gay uncle that left his house and all of his fortunes to Giorgi? Didn't Giorgi say I reminded him of Fraser sometimes, too? Wh-what the hell, that doesn't matter! It's no reason to be such an asshole to me and Giorgi!

"Look, I know you guys didn't get along but you know I'm not him, right? You don't have to keep taking out your anger with Fraser on me and Giorgi. I mean, you could put it all on me, I really don't care. But could you give your son the time of day? Strike a conversation with him, tell him it's nice to see him and you've missed him. You're his dad, and you've been there for him his entire life. And what, now that he's dating a guy that reminds you of your late brother, you feel you have to cut him off?"

"Watch yourself," Mr. Anastas growled, immediately putting me back in my place. I was forgetting myself and who I was talking to; this was my fiancé's father, not some uncle or brother of his. "It's fine to be bold, but don't get cocky or ahead of yourself, Omartian." My cheeks burned up as I felt a bit embarrassed at my attempt to lecture my fiancé's dad, and I shifted my weight into my heels before leaning against the porch fence. "No, I didn't get along with Fraser, but I still loved him... I didn't get to make amends with him before he passed, so he died thinking I hated him, and that's my biggest regret."

...So to make up for that mistake, you act like you hate the guy that resembles your brother instead of trying to be nice and resolve your guilt by being kind to him? Tch. Makes perfect sense.

"Obviously I feel horrible about the way I treat you and my son," the large man grumbled.

Obviously?!

"But I never learned how to deal with my emotions correctly. My father was a 'manly man' and he raised me to be the same, so...excuse me for—"

I quickly stopped Mr. Anastas with an abrupt scoff and a single shake of my hands. "That's not for me... Please, don't say that to me," I said as politely as I could. "Talk to Giorgi. He's in the living room."

"He's not ready for this conversation. You'll have to—"

My eyebrows furrowed and before I could stop myself, I snapped on my fiancé's dad: "I don't have to do anything! You disowned and constantly insult him by yourself! I won't apologize to him for you or make up your amends! You're a big 'manly-man', aren't you?! Suck up your bullshit sob story, grow a pair, and talk to your son yourself! Quit hiding behind your guilt and—"

SLAP!

I froze, my eyes wide and locked on the wooden planks of the porch beneath my feet that my head suddenly faced. My fiancé's father slapped me.

Plip.

My eyes flickered onto the red splat that'd fallen onto the old wooden floor just an inch away from my white sneaker, and I quickly chalked up that my nose was bleeding. Mr. Anastas breathed heavily; so heavily that each of his deep inhales seemed to suck the oxygen out of my lungs and replace it with pressure so heavy and crushing that I could only gasp small shuddered breaths while I held my cheek.

"I warned you not to get ahead yourself, didn't I," he seethed. "I told you—"

SMACK!

I'd thrown my fist into the older man's jaw, and trembled with rage as his mouth bled. "Knock when you're ready to talk to Giorgi," I fumed, spitting a blood clot at the man's shoes before going inside and locking the front door behind myself.

"Who's that?" Rhea asked from the living room.

"Cameron," I shouted back, dragging myself into the bathroom near the kitchen. It took me about ten minutes to clean up my nose and I sighed a big breath of relief when I concluded that my nose wasn't broken, but just swollen. And that was the same amount of time it took for Giorgi's father to ring the doorbell.