𓈊 A Poppy By Any Other Name

Act XXXII

Another warning for mention of cigarettes/smoking and drinking! Be safe, my friends <3

Also, does anyone remember the Mumbo for Mayor scat song from season 7? The one by jono? Yeah, that's Grian's ringtone in this fic.

[If you don't know what I'm talking about, search something along the lines of that and you should find it quite easily]

Also, also. This chapter is a lot longer than normal ones just because I'm going to be going away for a while. But I'll explain more into detail about that at the end of the chapter, so for now, be spoiled with content :) /pos

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The door slammed shut, and Grian wanted more than ever to melt into a pile on the floor and cry. Why did she leave? Why didn't she just stay and protect him? Why didn't she take him with her?

"Dammit!" Joel's holler, along with him kicking the oven, made Grian jump. "You've got to be fucking joking." His eyes met Grian's and he sighed, leaning over the counter and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Grian, come here," he said calmly. Grian didn't move. "Grian."

Shaking his head, Grian stepped back. "No," he tried to say firmly, though his bottom lip quivering didn't help much with that. "No, you're going to hit me and yell at me 'cause you- y-you're probably d-drunk or s-something."

Joel's expression changed from annoyed to bewildered as he straightened his back. "Drunk?" he echoed. "Why would I be-" His eyes found the box of cigarettes on the counter. "Right..."

"You're just like her," Grian sobbed. He was clearly trying to sound angry, but between his sniffling from being sick and his hiccuping from crying, he sounded more heartbroken than anything. "It's yelling, then it's c-cigarettes, and then you get drunk all the t-time and-"

"Grian, I'm not drunk," Joel interrupted. "And I won't hurt you."

Grian looked down at the ground. "How am I meant to believe that when you just hit Lizzie?" he mumbled, sniffling.

Joel sighed. "Fine, don't believe me," he huffed. "That's fine. It's not like a care anyway."

Grian looked up at Joel, hearing his mother's words repeating over and over in his head.

"I don't care about you."

"You don't matter to me."

"It doesn't make the slightest difference to me if you're hurt."

With a loud, choked sob, Grian shouted, "I hate you!" and stormed away to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Once the door was closed, he let himself sink to the floor and cry for a bit. He felt nothing but anxiety and betrayal.

This was supposed to be a safe place. He promised me a safe place. That thought only made him sob harder.

Finally calming down some, Grian's thoughts began to clear. I need to leave, he thought to himself. I'm not safe here. He glanced around his room, subconsciously scanning the place for necessities. I need clothes, food... With shaky legs, he got up from the floor. He grabbed his backpack and emptied it to stuff inside it a couple of jumpers, a pair of jeans and sweats, and some fruit snacks and cereal bars he'd hidden under his bed. He opened his window, grimacing at the icy blast of cold air, and shoved the red bag out onto the ground. The sound of it hitting the concrete below was probably loud enough for some neighbors and possibly Joel himself to hear, and Grian froze for a second to listen for footsteps incase Joel came to check up on him.

Now that I think about, it's kind of weird that he hasn't come to talk to me yet. Grian shrugged. Better for me, I guess.

He shifted to sit on the window sill, then threw his legs over the side, gasping when his hand slipped and he nearly fell forward. After taking a moment to gather his bearings, he reached forward with one hand and grabbed onto the branch of a tall, dead tree. It was risky, but he gave the branch a hard tug to make sure it wouldn't immediately snap once he jumped. He took a long, deep breath before putting his other hand on it and launching himself off the side of the apartment complex, hooking his legs around the tree as he swung himself forward.