MCYT Oneshots

Bruises/Tumble Part 2 - Ranchers

Shipping Warning: Ranchers (Tango x Jimmy)

Tw: bruises, abuse, drugs, alcohol, mentions of police/authorities, and swearing

Same School AU as Tumble

Enjoy!

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{Tango's POV}

People used to joke that I wasn't my parents' kid.

As I grew older, the jokes only got stronger.

And for good reason. I was the attractive kid, considered by many the hottest kid in the grade. Maybe the school, I didn't really care.

My parents didn't seem to have an attractive gene in their body. My mom wasn't ugly, per se, but she wasn't attractive like me.

And my dad....

Well, it's best not to mention how my dad looks.

How would you even describe it? He looked like someone who was once handsome, but over time had fallen into a black hole of drugs and alcohol, only leaving a shell behind of who he once was.

I was walking home alone, like I normally did, on this particular day. It'd been a pretty bad one. Jimmy, my partner/best friend, depending who you ask, had been absent - I made a mental note to text him when I got home - today, the flirty kids had been very persistent today, and Scott's group of popular kids had decided to spread some gossip about Jimmy.

I wanted to smash the cyanette's perfect teeth in. It would serve him right, with how he treated Jimmy.

The only good thing about today was my lack of homework. As I opened the door to my house, this became an even better thing.

My dad had three modes. Ranging from best to worst, he was either asleep, hungover, or drunk.

Asleep Dad was self explanatory. Once he was out, he was out. I could run around the house banging pots and pans and there was only a small chance he'd wake up. Asleep Dad was the safest dad.

Hungover Dad was middle territory. Mostly, he just wanted me to keep quiet and out of his way, which I was quite good at, thanks to Drunk Dad. Occasionally, he'd get pissed and hit me, but those were rare when he was Hungover Dad.

And the worst one. Drunk Dad. If I was lucky, I could slip out of the house when Drunk Dad was in and he'd never know. But if I was unlucky, I could be certain I would get a beating for no real reason other than I was an easy target for Drunk Dad's anger.

I'd gotten good at differentiating the levels of alcohol smell in my house. Drunk Dad had the strongest smell of alcohol, then Asleep Dad, then Hungover Dad.

Just my luck. The smell of alcohol was stronger than usual - even for Drunk Dad.

When Drunk Dad was in, I'd better pray to all the gods up there that I had no homework, since there was no way on Earth I was getting any work done that afternoon.

Seeing as how I saw Drunk Dad as soon as I opened the door, there was no chance I would be able to slip out unseen.

"Boy!" I heard Drunk Dad yell behind me. Now for the extreme sport of running for my life in my own house.

This was one part of my life I was not going to let anyone at school see. Not even Jimmy.

Six hours later, I slammed my door shut and stood with my back against it, panting. I still had my backpack on. I slid down onto the floor. Any random person I pulled off the street would probably be crying or at least whimpering in pain by now, but one upside of Dad's constant abuse was that I was freakishly strong.