To Boldly Go (an AOS!spirk soulmate au fanfiction)

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not Gene Roddenberry, J. J. Abrams, or Justin Lin.

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Jim's life first tumbled downwards when Sam left home.

They were never a rich family, occasionally having to turn to his mother's brother for help and shelter, but they had always been happy. He had his brother and his mother, and it had always been enough, but it all changed when Sam left home.

It was a hot Iowan summer and they were currently staying at their Uncle Frank's for a few weeks as his mother was trying to do something with their old house, and Jim woke up to the sound of fighting.

"I told you to take care of them." It was his mother. He had never heard his mother's voice so shrill like that before, so scared and helpless, laced with thick and intense despair and fear. His heart stopped on its track, realizing something was terribly wrong.

"Your son is one ungrateful little brat who has no decency of—"

"Frank, he's your nephew!"

"Look Winona, I took good care of them but Sam is an adult and I told him not to—"

"He's sixteen, Frank! You're supposed to take care of him—"

Later that day, he learned that Sam had run away to who knows where, having done with his uncle's neglect and abuse. He brought very little things with him—Jim only noticed a few pairs of clothes and several notebooks were missing—but apart from that, Sam didn't seem to have brought anything and just ran away.

Jim cried himself to sleep that night, his dreams filled with fear and the echo of his own voice calling for his brother in the dark.

The following days were where it really went downhill. His mother started to come home less and less often, claiming that she was renovating their old house to make a saloon and were trying so hard, jumping from job to job, to make ends meet. Rumors began to spread through his friends, and soon the whole school knew how Jim had been staying with his uncle for two years and began calling his mother a whore.

Even though it felt like he might have broken his knuckles, nothing felt as satisfying as the first punch that thirteen-years-old James T. Kirk landed on the face of his bully.

Jim was involved in a lot of fight after that.

His uncle became more rude and harsh. One time he caught a sight of a nearly-empty bottle of vodka in the kitchen and it didn't take Jim long to accept the fact that his uncle had finally turned to alcohol.

One morning, Jim was nibbling on his cereal as he blankly stared at the back door on the other side of the kitchen, contemplating of running away himself. But of course he couldn't do that. He wouldn't leave his mother with this pathetic alcoholic excuse of a man to shelter her, would he? His mother was the only good thing he had left in this world; his hard-working, all-loving mother. Winona Kirk, who already had too much grey hair on her hair despite her young age, who would always kiss his forehead good night on every rare occasion that she came home after Jim had fallen asleep (she didn't want to kiss him while he was still awake, afraid of wounding his adolescent pride, although unbeknownst to her, Jim had always been awake the whole time, and he treasured those gestures with all his heart), who would always flash her bright smile at him as she pointed to the sky and ask him what constellation it was.

He accidentally caught the sight of his Soulpoetry and the next thing he was aware of was the loud clang of his cereal bowl against the wall. He had subconsciously thrown it across the room.

A low thump came from his uncle's room, followed the sound of his door opening. Jim turned to face his uncle's nearing figure, his breathing erratic and his eyes watering in frustration. Frank approached him slowly, his eyes bloodshot and his loud breath reeked of alcohol.