hopeless purpose (dreamnotfound)

accustomed

tw:// swearing(more than usual), implications/references to neglect, substance usage

dream stood outside his little one story, run down house while internally chastising his dad for blaring the television so astronomically loud that it could be heard from the street. his little sister was in there tying to sleep and needs to wake up early for school, but the dickhead only cares about himself.

he runs a hand through his messy hair, previously tousled from the wind, as he mentally prepares himself for whatever mood his dad will be in when he walks in.

there's never any way of telling with that man. he could flip on a dime between being an overly charismatic, exuberant personality, to an abusive asshole in a matter of seconds. there was no in-between of the two extremes. the slightest things could set him off and you never know what the next thing may be, all you know is that it'll happen. though its become common knowledge over the years that the longer his "good phases" last, the worse the bad phases hit.

opening up the front grated door, his nose instantly twitches at the intense, putrid smell of weed.  he sees his dad laying on the couch long-ways with his feet propped up like he owns the place. funnily enough, he legally doesn't truly own it. dream has always been the one who pays all the bills because his dad can't be trusted to not go and blow all their cash on his own personal needs. they'd learned that the hard way.

the blonde's entire body was itching with the temptation to just cuss the man out, tell him to turn down the damn tv, go smoke outside, and at least act like a decent person for once, but he restrained himself. he knew it'd only cause drama and wouldn't be effective in the slightest.

biting his tongue, he was about to make his way down the hall before being stopped by his dad's voice calling out,

"clay that you? boy get over here!"

squeezing his eyes shut, he recited prayers over in his head that his dad wasn't about to start something, and walked over to the end of the couch.

"yeah?" he asked feebly.

"did ya get the money yet?"

shit. his dad had tasked him with collecting money so they could bail his mom out of jail. she was in for illegal drug possession and breaking and entering, both of which dream's parents were repeat offenders for. this happened often. his parents would get themselves into trouble and he'd have to save up his own hard earned money to cover for them. the relationship was an enigma, because despite always being at each others throats, they for some reason couldn't rest until their partner in crime (literally) was back in their "humble abode".

it didn't make any sense to dream for a long time, but as he got older, he realized that it's probably because they were reliant on each other. no sane person would deal with their terrible natures, and so they'd become addicted to each others toxicity. they were like the bonnie and clyde of the modern world, except less murder and more slews of petty crimes.

of course he'd considered just letting the two scumbags rot in jail, but after some research, he disregarded the idea because he found that drista would get taken by CPS. even though he was now 18, he didn't have a steady enough form of income or a house of his own, plus the added detail that he was still a senior in high school.

so for now, he was stuck with having to be the only responsible adult around.

"uhh... no not yet, sorry. i'll get it done though," dream voiced with mock confidence.

his dad slowly began to sit up, suffocating his joint on the edge of the table on the way. now face inches away from his son's, dream's heart began racing; a large insufferable lump forming in his throat. the man just stared into his son's wide, terrified eyes and then burst out into a maniacal laughter, now falling back onto the couch and rolling around in hysterics as if it was the greatest thing he'd ever heard.