Until. We. Die. (BxB)

.2.

"Dad?" Calling into the house as I got inside, I looked around at the suddenly clean house. I heard music coming from the kitchen as I took my shoes off and set them inside the closet to my left. I continued to walk to the kitchen, looking at him as he set new groceries in the fridge, neatly and organized.

"Hey kid."

"Hey..." Groceries meant he was leaving. That meant he was currently sober enough to get onto a plane. Because he was sober right now, he cleaned up his mess of beer cans and bottles, boxes and trash from when he came home at night were all gone. The house was clean and he was getting ready to leave again.

But I still asked like always, "Are you leaving again?"

"Yeah, a few more days than normal this time."

"Where to?" I tried to see where he was going like always. Though he was an asshole to me most of the time, I did try and have conversations with him.

"If I felt the need to tell you, I would." I nodded as I went into the kitchen more and took the empty bags off the counter space and put them into a closet where the other grocery bags hung. "I got food for while I am gone. Behave, no parties or shit like that."

"I know."

He turned on his heel and closed the fridge door, the small slam caused me to flinch and grip the closet door as he stood there. I tried to regulate my breathing as he watched me. Even sober, you had to be careful around him. He was still terrifying, less so then drunken dad; but still terrifying.

"How much more P.T do you have?"

"Eight or nine appointments. I can be done when school ends."

"Is it actually helping you or am I paying for useless shit?"

"It's helping." He stared at my leg, narrowing his eyes as he did so. He has been insanely upset over the fact that I got hurt. He's pissed that I probably can't play soccer as well as I used to for years now. My scholarships were gone now, he was paying for therapy because of the accident, he was pissed at me a small fuck up that had happened in the fall of this school year.

"I'm gonna be gone for roughly a week. Stay home if you aren't at school." He left me alone in the kitchen at that. His frame wandered to his room where I heard the crack of a can opening before his door shut.

This was a normal conversation between us if he was sober enough to actually talk to me. It wasn't common for us to talk anymore. It wasn't common in general. Even if I did try and talk to him, even if I did try and have a small relationship with him.

I didn't bug him, I knew better. I grabbed the heavy backpack and left for the living room to work on homework. Three hours later I had finished two papers for classes and turned them in. Getting caught up on small assignments now, I opened pages up and started to type in answers as my dad walked out with a suitcase in hand and in his work suit.

He came over near me to grab his keys that were sitting in one of my moms ceramic bowls she had made years ago. Dad refused to get rid of her artworks when she left. He kept all of the works where they were, they never moved from their original homes.

"What are you working on?"

"Just some missing assignments-"

"Missing?" His tone hardened and cut me off, his temper already high by the sound of it.

"Its small work, I'll have it-"

"You'll have them done and fucking graded by tomorrow. If I don't see that shit done in your grade books we are going to have some fucking problems Tristan."