the night we met | minishaw

chapter 7: flashbacks

WARNINGS:
death/suicide/drugs/alcohol

10 years ago

simon was fifteen, fifteen and having to choose whether to live with his mum up north or with his dad in new york with his new stepmum.

and he loved them both so much, even now when they were forcing him to choose between them. his mum was destroyed enough from the divorce and all the affairs hid dad put her through, yet his dad offered him a better life in new york, he could really reinvent himself. but never in a million years could he see himself leaving his already depressed mum all alone in a country thousands of miles away.

so he chose her, it was the right thing to do. but boy was his dad pissed, he told simon how much he was willing to do for him, how he would of helped him get a job and take him out all the time to all the fancy restaurants. now he had gone and fucked it all up.

looking back maybe he should of gone with his dad, he'd be living it large in new york right now. however, he never would of met his harry, his sweet, caring harry, that was the only reason he didn't fuck off to new york the first chance he got.

simon hasn't seen his dad since that day. the last time he saw him he told him just how disappointed he was, and that he'll regret it later on. what a prick.

his mum was obviously thrilled with him choosing her, she wouldn't of been able to cope on her own. but simon learned that he just wasn't enough to fill the empty hole in her heart, she needed something else, something better.

and what better to fill the void than to drink all her feelings away, to forget about everything, even if it was just temporary and potentially life threatening. by simon's last year of high school she became a full blown alcoholic.

the house reeked of shit weed and beer and there were empty bottles and ash trays scattered everywhere. simon thought back to their old house, when it was the three of them. his mum would have a glass of wine on the weekends at the very most, and didn't smoke once, the house was always kept clean and tidy and he ate three full meals a day.

he took that shit for granted alright, he had to cook for himself now, had to nick some of his mum's booze money to get a microwave meal from the corner shop. this was his life now.

his mum only grew worse when he reached sixth form, ditching the beer for something stronger. she had met this man down at the pub and invited him back home with the promise of drugs. she's been hooked ever since, nearly every night her and the man would be snorting shit in the living room as simon was up stairs doing homework so he wouldn't fail his classes and end up a jobless alcoholic like his fucking mum.

they hardly even spoke anymore, no more 'I love yous' or 'stay safe', it was always just 'buy me some fags' or 'got a fiver I could borrow?'
sometimes she would hit him, tell him how much he reminded her of his piece of shit dad.

it was beginning to take a toll on simon, he shut out all his friends, gave up trying in school and just slept through the days. holding on to the hope that someday it will get better.

drinking or smoking away the pain never crossed his mind though, no matter how bad things got he couldn't bring himself to do it. there was no way he'd turn out like her, no way in hell.

so he braved through it all sober, holed up in his room sleeping 16 hours a day. sleep was his escape, no one could hurt him in his dreams.

one morning he woke up and forgot where he was, thinking he was back in the old house with his parents, both of them eating breakfast downstairs and happily chatting away, then he remembered. it would never be like that again.