West had invited Simon for dinner on Prom Night.
There actually wasn't any dinner since neither West or Paul could cook, but it was the thought that counted.
He figured that since his real father had missed his every other milestone, he'd want to be there for Senior Prom.
"Thanks for the invite."
"Sure thing."
West let Simon into the house, then led him into the living room so he'd meet Killian. He realized then, that he probably should've mentioned that Simon was actually one of the guys from twitter. He was most likely going to freak out.
"I bought you my lucky tie." He said. "Who knows, you might need it."
Simon handed West a black satin tie with tiny rainbow diamonds spread out all over it. It was a tie he'd inherited from his adoptive father, one he'd worn for his first school dance after moving to London. He'd hated it, but over time, he'd grown to love it.
"Thank you, it's... colorful."
Killian gasped as soon as he saw Simon, his hands flying to his mouth.
"Holy shit, You're that--"
"Model dude from twitter?" Simon finished off, upon remembering West saying a similar thing when they first met.
Killian pointed an accusatory finger at West, "Why didn't you tell me?" He cried out.
"I forgot?"
"Fuck me. You're like..." Killian didn't want to say 'attractive', even though he was. It just would've seemed weird and creepy. He was someone's dad. "--Super young."
"It's probably just this new skincare regimen I've been trying out." Simon disclosed. "So, are you two heading to school together or something?"
"Yes. This is Killian."
West didn't know whether to reveal his sexuality to Simon, or whether to wait until a later time.
Then he realized that there was no time like the present. He wasn't trying to impress Simon, hell, he didn't even know the guy all too well. If he had a problem with him being with a boy, then he'd just have to leave.
He wrapped an arm around Killian's shoulder and squeezed, "He's my... date. My boyfriend. He's my boyfriend."
Killian grinned, then extended his arm to squeeze West's waist right back to express his support.
West looked for any signs of displeasure on Simon's face, but all he got was a nod of approval.
"Nice."
"Oh... I-- I guess."
"Do you guys have any orange juice?" Simon asked, the matter already put out of his mind.
West pointed in the direction of the kitchen, then turned to look at Killian dumbfoundedly as Simon walked away. "Did he hear me? I told him we were dating, and all he said was 'Nice.' "
"Yeah." Killian replied nonchalantly. "And, he asked for orange juice."
"And, he asked... for orange juice."
The most random thing you could do after your son tells you he's into guys.
Though it would've been preferable if every parent reacted that way.
"I'm going to go tell him again."
He started to walk towards the kitchen, but Killian immediately pulled him back, leading him to the couch.
"West. He heard you. And he's cool with it. Some people are cool with it."
It took a while for him to process that. West had been so ready to kick him out, that the fact that Simon wasn't even bothered by his sexuality, made his brain stop functioning for a hot minute.
"He's cool with it..."
"Yeah. I can't believe you called him 'hot'."
"Well, he is--"
"West!"
"--Respectfully."
--
As soon as Simon entered the kitchen, he headed for the fridge. He hadn't driven himself so far in a long time,( The perks of being rich and having your own driver) so he was feeling quite thirsty.
He grabbed a clean glass from the sink and got the OJ out the fridge, he was about to pour it into the glass when Paul materialized into the room out of thin air.
"Simon..."
"Hey."
"Let me get that for you." Paul offered. He grabbed another glass from the sink then poured orange juice for the both of them.
"Thanks." Simon nodded, lifting the glass to his lips.
A few moments passed and all that could be heard from that room was the soft humming of the fridge, and Simon taking a sip every now and then.
Paul was still trying to process everything, Simon was there, West's actual father. He had a hard time trying to grasp that information.
West had told him the previous day that he'd be coming, and Paul had spent his entire night thinking of the endless possibilities of his arrival.
He expected Simon to be enraged, to throw a few punches, maybe, but he was as calm as a monk.
"I could've been there for him. You had no right to do what you did." Simon blurted out all too abruptly.
I spoke too soon.
"I know."
"Then why did you do it? Why didn't you reach out? Why be so goddamn selfish?"
"Jennifer didn't want you to know. You'd just found the family you long since want--"
"She was my family." Simon rectified, his head hanging low as feelings of grief crept in.
He wasn't angry as much as he was heartbroken. And he couldn't see past the fact that Paul stole his child from him. But in the end, it was for Simon's own good. If not for Paul, he would've raised West on the streets, or worse, he could've been taken away from them forever.
"And West could've been, too. But you took that away from me."
"I'm sorry. If only I could turn back time... I'd do things differently."
In other words, I would've told you, but I wouldn't have given him up.
Simon released a weary sigh. There wasn't anything that could change their situation, now. All he could do was try to make up for all the lost years.
"From the looks of it, you were a good father to him. You probably raised him better than I ever could."
"I don't know about that."
"You did. He's kind, respectful... He makes it easy to love him."
"He probably gets all that from you." Paul admitted. He didn't want Simon to think of him as some kind of saint, as the same person he was when they were still teens. He wanted him to know how horrible he turned out to be. How he didn't deserve to be praised for something he had nothing to do with.
"Listen, Simon. I haven't been good to--"
"Dad." West interrupted without hesitation.
He started eavesdropping from the other room as soon as he saw Paul walking into the kitchen.
Both Simon and Paul turned to look at him quizzically, waiting for him to say what he needed to say.
He realized he should've just specified which Dad he was referring to.
West's lips tightened as his eyes narrowed at Paul and Simon immediately got the message. He grabbed both his and Paul's cups and left the room. (He was really, absolutely thirsty.)
"What were you thinking?" West seethed. "Were you seriously going to tell him about--" He looked over his shoulder to make sure Simon wasn't anywhere near them, before whispering, "About our past?"
"He has the right to know. I've already kept so much from him."
"What do you think he'll do if he finds out? Don't complicate things. I don't want him to know, okay?"
Paul started to say something but his phone rang before he could get the words out.
"I have to go, Winona's having a baby, Dennis needs me there." He stated after the brief call.
"They're still together?"
"No..." Paul responded, but it sounded more like a question. Things between them were still complicated, Dennis didn't know if he was the father of the soon to be new addition to the family, or if it was the mystery man's child. But he still wanted to be there for her, they'd been through a lot together.
"I don't know."
He placed his hands on West's shoulders, appreciating how well he cleaned up. His long locks were trimmed into a neat style, and he looked elegant in his classic black suit. The lucky tie was strikingly colorful in contrast to the dark suit, but everything worked well together. "You look great."
"Thanks, Dad."
"Well, I don't have anything 'Lucky' to give you."
"You don't have to compete with Simon, Dad."
"I'm not competing--"
"But you are. Besides, I don't even like this tie," He confessed in a low voice,
"I just wore it so he'd feel less guilty for not being in my life for 18 years. He's not my Dad, you are."
He actually liked the tie, he just wanted everyone to be happy.
"Yeah... I know."
"If it'll make you feel better, I could wear a pair of your smelly socks." West offered in a joking manner
"Funny. I'll see you later, okay? Have fun."
---
Simon left at about 7PM, and an hour later after messing around the house for a bit, they left for the prom.
Yolanda had been out sick on the day all the decorations were put up, so the decor was a bit... dull. Everyone had decided on an Under-the-sea theme and they all knew she would've gone all out as the word 'budget' wasn't in her vocabulary.
People expected to see floating jellyfish complete with LED lights, a photo booth with an underwater backdrop and a clam shaped throne, cupcakes and donuts with blue icing, for goodness sake, instead, all they got was a low budget, 80's baby shower.
Everyone's expectations had been crushed... which made the prom lifeless in return.
The only people on the dancefloor were Principal Hughes, Ms Robinson and the Janitor for some reason.
If the teens weren't trying to force down the tasteless food that was being served, they were loitering around the school grounds, some no doubt, were drinking alcohol.
"I can't believe I was actually excited for this." West let out as he twirled the corner of the silk tablecloth around his index finger. To his sides were Killian and Brittany, opposite him, were some of her friends from class.
"Right? It sucks ass." Brittany added.
20 more minutes, or what seemed like forever, passed, and it was finally time for Prom King and Queen.
Students started filling the hall again as what everybody actually came there for started. The person who'd be making the announcement made her way up the stage with Principal Hughes following behind her.
"Alright, everybody, the moment we've all been waiting for! Prom Queen goes to..." The girl's face fell as she read the name on the envelope.
"Okay... well-- well that's just expected, isn't it?" She tried to hide her rage by plastering a smile on her face, but it looked more like the beginnings of a seizure "Yolanda Wentworth." She finally spat out.
"Somebody, uh... somebody help her get up here." Principal Hughes yelled from the stage as he remembered she was in a wheelchair for the time being.
Yolanda refused all forms of help and rolled her way, slowly but surely, through the crowd with a smirk on her face.
Even wheelchair bound, she managed to make it look like nothing was wrong, like she didn't have a huge scar cutting through half of her face, like her legs weren't broken. She was oozing with confidence, and was ready to accept the title she knew she deserved.
"Alright, Prom King goes to... Weston Rickert?" The girl was visibly confused, now. The votes had definitely been rigged, who in their right mind could've voted for that loser?
And West shared the exact same sentiments.
"What the hell?" He exclaimed. At first he thought it was a joke, but everyone was clapping and looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to go up that stage.
And then he saw it. The gleeful grin on Brittany's face. He remembered how she had asked him to run for prom king. He also remembered how the answer was a hard NO.
"Brittany, what'd you do?"
"People... really like chocolate bars." She replied with a shrug of her shoulders.
She had spent her entire month's allowance on those chocolate bars, she was glad to see it had paid off.
"What does that even mean?"
"Just go up there! Go!"
"I can't--"
"Go up there," Killian chimed in, "You deserve it."
West begrudgingly made his way to the stage, he got there just as Yolanda did, then pushed her wheelchair up the ramp, much to her chagrin.
"Weston--"
"Shut up, Yolanda."
The girl gave Yolanda a distasteful look, then stood on her tippy toes to place the crown on West's head.
Upon seeing that the jealous girl wouldn't give Yolanda her crown, he snatched it out of her hands and bent down to place it on her head before laying a chaste kiss on her cheek.
"Congratulations, I would ask you to dance, but your legs aren't of any use."
"Rude." Yolanda scoffed, "Congratulations to you, too... I guess." She offered him a genuine smile then whirled off the stage as a slow song meant for the Prom King and Queen to dance to came on.
West's eyes searched for Killian in the crowd and when they found him, all he could see was him.
He strode across the dancefloor and to their table, then held out his hand for Killian to grab ahold of.
Killian accepted West's hand, and they moved onto the center of the floor before getting into position.
West had never slow-danced before, he wasn't sure if he was doing it right, so he let Killian take the lead.
And he was proud of West for being so brave, for seeking him out in the crowd when he could've easily danced with Brittany, instead. But he was finally confident enough to come out to the entire school. Killian guessed that Simon's reaction earlier influenced his decision, the fact that he had accepted him without a question, was enough to convince him that other people would be cool with it, too. And they were.
Killian could feel how tense West still was, though. His movements were stiff and hesitant, so he decided to spark up conversation, starting with commending him on his win.
"Congratulations, Prom King."
West merely rolled his eyes in response, "Did you and Brittany plan this?"
"She might've... given me a kit kat to get me to vote for you."
"What's that even about?"
"She convinced everyone to vote for you by bribing them with chocolate bars." Killian smiled triumphantly.
If he had known how easily swayed everyone was, he probably would've done the exact same thing. He was, however, satisfied that that whole stunt had worked.
"And you didn't think to tell me?"
"I thought you knew. Being Prom King is kind of a privilege, y'know?"
"It literally doesn't mean shit."
"Royalty suits you, either way."
West's cheeks reddened at that, so he forced himself to look elsewhere. "They're all staring at us." He noted.
"Nah, they're staring at me. Have you seen this face?"
And just like that, the tension lifted off of West's shoulder's.
"You are unbelievably vain, you know that?"
"You love it."
Whilst everyone was distracted by the couple on the dancefloor, Clancy Holt, the gossip monger, took it upon himself to make the dance a bit more interesting, everyone was feeling way too uptight, especially after the announcement of Prom King & Queen. Well, only a few people felt some type of disdain.
He headed over to the punch table, and from the backpack which he'd hidden under it, retrieved two bottles of vodka and dumped them into each of the bowls. He then added some lemon juice which he'd made at home earlier in the day to mask the bitterness of the vodka.
(Don't ask him how that works, it just does.)
The prom was in full effect towards the end of the night.
The DJ, some guy only known as Lucky, was playing half-decent music, and all the students were frolicking on the dancefloor. One wouldn't be able to tell that just a few hours ago, the party had been as dead as a doornail. But then again, it could've just been Clancy's concoction kicking in.
"My feet are starting to hurt, I'm gonna take a little break." West placed his crown on Killian's head, then headed over to the refreshments to grab some punch.
Who knew dancing took so much energy out of someone?
Killian continued to dance like no one was watching, DJ Lucky, seriously knew what he was doing... sort of.
He was just glad Lucky wasn't playing any techno, it was after all, a genre born and bred in hell.
Without warning, another slow song came on. Killian froze mid-dab (it wasn't even a cool dance move, anyway), then turned to shake his head disappointedly at the DJ, who wasn't even aware of him.
He glanced over at the punch table only to find that West had disappeared. A resigned sigh escaped his lips, it looked more and more like he'd have to sit that one dance out.
"May I have this dance?" A voice right behind him suddenly asked. He could feel the person standing tall over him, his breath hot on his neck. He obviously had no respect for personal boundaries.
Killian grimaced, desperately seeking a way out of the hoards of teenagers that had gathered around him, dancing to Brian McKnight.
He started to move his legs away from the perpetrator when he spoke up again.
"C'mon, your boyfriend won't mind. He's not the jealous type."
Killian finally turned to face him.
Steven Murphy looked princely in his navy blue suit, it hugged him just right, and defined his slim build. His once colored hair was back to it's natural state; dark brown and flawlessly wavy.
He looked like the perfect Devil in disguise.
"And you know him so well, right?"
"Actually, I do... We used to be friends."
Killian raised an eyebrow at Steven's absurd remark, "Is that why you tried to take advantage of him? Because you were friends?"
Steven paled, he looked around them to see if anyone had heard what Killian said, but they were all rather oblivious to what was happening outside of their little love bubbles.
"That's right. He told me everything."
"I don't-- I was just a dumb kid who didn't know right from wrong."
"You were 13."
"Yeah." Steven nodded stiffly, his right hand reaching out to stroke his neck. He wanted to tell Killian what was going through his mind at the time, what triggered that behavior, but felt it wouldn't make much of a difference. He didn't owe him an explanation, anyway. "Yeah, I was."
Killian rolled his eyes at Steven and turned his back on him, pushing through the crowd in an attempt to get away from him.
He made his way to the free drinks and grabbed a styrofoam cup before filling it with punch, unfortunately, Steven was right behind him.
"Listen, I'm sorry about... what happened between us." He uttered in a small voice. "For hurting you. It wasn't-- I never wanted to. I wasn't going to. At least, I never planned to."
Killian only gave him a blank stare.
"You and Weston.. you're good-- for each other, I mean. He's also... good. A good person... and you're--"
"Steven."
"Right. I'm horrible at this, but... I hope things work out. For you. The both of you."
West suddenly reappeared with Ophelia, who looked worse for wear,
before Killian could reply.
"Is she okay?"
"She's drunk." West revealed, though it was pretty obvious with the vomit stains on her dress. She had approached him earlier, drunk off her ass, spewing bullshit about how her best friend dumped her. West immediately took her to the bathroom when her face turned pale, he knew the signs of impending nausea all too well.
"I'm gonna walk her home, I'll be back in ten minutes, tops."
"I'll come with you." Killian offered. He was about to say something to Steven but stopped short when he realized he'd already left.
West hoisted a semi-unconcious Ophelia onto his back, then started the walk to her house, which was conveniently close to the school, with Killian in tow.
"What did Steven want?" He asked.
"He was... apologizing. For all the shit in the past."
"Oh. You forgave him?"
"I don't know, and I don't want to talk about Steven, he's just... gross."
"Well," West began, changing the topic without protest. "I'm moving into my apartment in two weeks." He expressed in a joyous manner.
The simple thought of West moving away was too much for Killian to bare. "Let's just... not talk. Okay?" He asserted.
West only sighed, he wondered if their relationship would survive the time apart, or if it would just crumble to pieces. The fact that Killian wasn't even speaking about it only worried him further, it only meant that he hadn't accepted the fact that he was leaving.
Killian stayed back while West knocked on Ophelia's front door, a few moments later, a woman that looked strikingly similar to her, opened up, her features instantly morphing into a beam.
The woman obviously knew, and liked West.
Killian caught a few sentences of their conversations, he heard West tell her that Ophelia was just a little sick, that she'd eaten something that didn't agree with her stomach at the dance.
Why West was covering for her, he didn't know.
Inside the house, West made the familiar route to Ophelia's bedroom, took off her shoes, then laid her on her bed ever so gently, thinking that she'd already passed out, before turning to leave.
"Don't goooo." She moaned.
"I have to get back to the dance." He responded softly from the doorway.
"At least take this... super uncomfortable dress off me."
"Ophelia--"
"Please..."
West switched off her night light to give her a bit of privacy, then retrieved her nightgown from her closet.
He sat her up straight on her bed and effortlessly slipped the yellow silk dress she was wearing off her body without looking at her chest or any other exposed body part, then dressed her up.
"Nothing you haven't seen before..." She slurred.
He then placed her head on the pillow, and her face instantly caught the light emanating from the moon.
The first thing West noticed was how rosy her cheeks looked, a bit more than usual, anyway. He fetched the makeup wipes she kept on her vanity and held her face in one hand, wiping off all the makeup from her skin, with the other. He only did that because he remembered how she'd always say sleeping with makeup on clogged her pores and messed up her smooth, porcelain skin.
After that, he laid her on her side and pulled the covers up to her chest before heading out.
"Took you long enough." An exasperated Killian commented.
"So, now you wanna talk?"
Killian rolled his eyes, but didn't respond, and the two started walking back to the dance.
A warm sensation abruptly took over West's whole body, he chalked it up to him wearing too much on his body, so he took off his jacket, not realizing what it truly was.
As soon as they got to the school hall, they poured themselves some drinks and sat down. Killian wasn't even in the mood to dance anymore, he breathed a sigh of relief when the person he expected to ditch prom showed up some 20 minutes later.
He got up and practically bounced towards him in elation.
"Look who's here."
"Shut up, I had nothing better to do."
Killian's eyes wandered to where West was sitting and he sighed ruefully. "Not much to do here, either."
"Good thing I bought this," Harper unbuttoned his blazer to show him the small bottle of gin he'd hidden in the inside pocket.
Killian shook his head disapprovingly, "Remember what happened the last time you got drunk?"
"At least I don't throw up in stranger's houses."
"That was one time..."
"Every time."
"Okay, every time." He admitted with a chuckle, "Which is why I stopped drinking months ago."
At least, that's what Harper had to believe. He couldn't tell him the real reason why.
"Is that why you've been nursing that one cup of punch the whole night?"
He plucked the red cup out of Killian's hand then gulped down some of the drink before his lips lifted into a broad smile.
"Oh yeah, Clancy definitely spiked the punch. So much for sobriety, huh?"
"What? That's ridiculous," He went for his cup, then took a sip once again. It tasted like it did before. Like lemon and strawberry.
"Can't you taste the lemon? It's the signature weapon he uses to mask the bitterness of the vodka."
"What?"
"How many cups have you had?"
"Two." He answered. Then his eyes widened in a panic as he realized West had been drinking that juice the entire night. "But West-- fucking hell." He dropped the cup and immediately started running towards the punch table, leaving Harper standing on his own in visible confusion.
-
"Stand up." Killian demanded.
"What?" West questioned puzzledly, his speech sounding abnormally drawn-out. He broke out into a fit of giggles when he heard himself speak, "Why do I sound like that?"
Killian had never heard that sound come out of West's mouth before. He didn't know whether to be amused or terrified. "Stand up right fucking now."
"Okay, okay!"
West tried to throw his empty cup into a bin near the punch table, but regrettably missed.
It made him utter a disappointed "Aw."
He then lifted himself off the chair, his body suddenly felt all too heavy and he swayed, almost knocking the laced punch over.
"Jesus Christ." Killian exclaimed, quickly stepping forward in case West actually took a fall. "Alright, we're getting out of here." He asserted after managing to steady him. He hooked an arm around his waist and they slowly started walking towards the exit.
"C'mon, the night is still young, we're young--" West babbled drunkenly.
Just as they got outside, he stopped in his tracks then dropped his head low to casually sniff Killian's neck. "You smell like my Dad..." He remarked.
"What?"
"Not my real Dad, my other Dad... Paul, he smells like applesauce. I don't know why I know that. We don't usually touch each other. I don't mean that in a sexual way, that'd be super gross."
Killian ignored his comments and continued pushing him towards his car. He got the keys out of West's pants pocket, then sat him in the backseat, making sure he was buckled in tightly.
"Okay, just... sit tight. I'll drive you home."
"Waaaait," West groaned, his arms reaching out to Killian like a baby did when they wanted to be picked up into someone's arms. "Just... lay down-- lay down with me... please."
Killian knew he had to get him home, but he couldn't resist the face he was making and how adorable he looked. He unbuckled West's seatbelt, then laid down in the backseat, pulling him to his chest.
"I'm drunk, aren't I?"
"I'm afraid so..."
"What was in that punch?"
"Vodka and lemon juice."
"Oh." West responded faintly.
Minutes passed as Killian held West tightly in his arms. It was only when he heard sniffling, that his concern raised from a fifty to a solid ten thousand.
"Are you-- Oh my God, are you crying?"
Killian pressed his fingers to his chest and, sure enough, his shirt was soaked. "Please, don't cry."
He sat up them both up straight and held West's face up. He had his eyes shut as tears spilled down his face.
Killian wiped away the tears on his cheeks with his hands, but more soon replaced the ones that had fallen.
"Talk to me." He pleaded.
West shook his head, and instead, leaned into Killian's chest again, sobbing quietly. His chest physically hurt. It felt as if his heart was being pulled three ways, then put back together again as Killian's gentle hands caressed his head, and then pulled apart again when he focused on something other than Killian's touch.
He was filled with so much raw emotions that crying seemed to be the only form of release.
He had very strong convictions on alcohol. He had absolutely no desire to put it in his body, or to experiment with it like most teens did when they reached a certain age.
Alcohol was the aid that assisted in the making of the monster that was Paul.
If not drunk moderately, it could ruin lives, and destroy families. He despised it with a passion, the fact that it was running through his veins, made him feel tainted, like he'd broken a promise he had made to himself.
"What do you need?"
"I can't go home. He can't--" West stammered as he blinked away the last of his tears, "He can't see me like this."
"It's okay. You're okay. We'll go to my place, alright?"
Killian softly brushed West's cheeks with his hands, then lay a soft kiss on his nose before buckling him in again.
"Just... just hang tight."
West nodded then undid Simon's lucky tie, mumbling something about how it didn't work.
--
"Okay. My mom doesn't really-- She's very..." Killian struggled to find a word he could use, one that also wouldn't be offensive to his mom. "--Opinionated." He finished off.
He'd driven to his house and tried to talk Linda into letting West stay on the couch for the night, but she'd been adamant on the fact that she didn't want drug addicts staying in her house.
"She hates me." West laughed from the backseat.
And she most likely would for the rest of their lives. Not that West cared.
"Yeah. She hates you."
Killian took a glance at West through the rearview mirror and sighed as an idea crossed his mind.
He texted Simon through West's phone and found out where he was staying before pulling out of his driveway and making his way to a quiet little inn in Oxford.
--
"Is he okay?" Simon asked worriedly as he stared at a now passed out West splayed across the backseat with drool running down his chin.
"He was... crying. And I don't-- I'm not much help. I know I'm supposed to help, but I don't know how." Killian admitted sadly.
West had known what to do when he was a mess and crying about his father. The fact that he couldn't help the same way that West did, made him feel like a total failure.
"He doesn't drink cause of-- Could he just stay the night?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'll take care of him."
Simon lifted West off the backseat and threw him over his shoulder, only then did he truly realize how heavy 155 pounds was. His slender frame was deceiving.
"Thanks, I'll just... go."
"You should stay. It'll be better for him.... In the morning."
"I don't think--"
"Killian. Stay." Simon insisted, "Also, he's quite heavy, so if you don't help me, I'll probably pass out, too."
"Okay," Killian chuckled as a sense of ease overcame him. He could tell that Simon was not the type to criticize and that he wouldn't lash out at the two boys or reprimand them on the dangers of alcohol in the morning. "Okay."
They carried West into the inn and up the suite where he'd get the sleep he needed, and sober up.
_________________________________________