I Love You, Always

I Love You Man

The moment he walked into the house, the smell of alcohol -mainly beer- invaded his nose, making the bile in his stomach churn. It had been nearly a month since Alex's father was laid off, and the side effects weren't seeming to get any better. In fact, they seemed to be getting worse. The quiet drinking that had only taken place at night to numb his fathers mass anxiety, had now infected his whole life and living room. Bottles had accumulated and his father had been hammered onto his lazy boy by the nails of constant drunkenness, depression, and the forever echoing questions of "what to do now?"

Alex made his way through the maze of glass to his room where the window was permanently open to get rid of the smell and therefore turning his room into a permanent freezers.

He threw his backpack and football bag on the ground and slumped onto his unmade bed, putting his elbows on his knees and face in his hands. A broken sigh escaped his lips and tears tugged at the corner of his deep hazel eyes. His deep hazel eyes that seem to always look sad. Eyes that seem to always be on the brink of tears.

Since he was alone in his room, he thought "just one" and allowed a tear to fall. Then he thought "maybe some more" and a few more streaks lined his cheeks. Then he let out a grunt and brokenly whispered "who gives a fuck" and proceeded to breath unevenly. He tried his best not to make a sound, considering his fathers head must be in pain. Hurting him was the last thing he wanted to do.

Crying made him feel weak, but given the present circumstances, he was. What could he, a little 14 year old freshman, do to help his father? Practically nothing. All he could do was sit and watch his father devolve into a mindless drunk. Sit and watch as they missed the rent and got evicted. Sit and watch as their kitchen went empty. And who could he go to? Nobody. These feelings that are plaguing him aren't what he is supposed to feel. He is supposed to be manly and strong. Not weak and crying alone in his bedroom. That's pathetic. "I'm pathetic."

He wiped his tears on the sleeves of his hoodie and got up. He walked over to his backpack and grabbed his homework. "This is all I can do right now."

He slumped back on his bed and distracted himself with homework and cleaning up his room for the next few hours, then passed out on his bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

When he woke up, he walked out to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and put in deodorant. He didn't change his clothes though, because honestly, none of them were clean. No laundry detergent had been bought for a few weeks, so no clothes had been washed. Alex tea didn't want to be known as the stinky kid, so he texted his best friend, Chandler, to bring him and shirt and pants.

C: Dude, when's your dad gonna get the washing matchine fixed???

C: *mitine

C: *matine

C: *mashine

C: *masheen

C: O MY FUCKING GOD HOWEVER THE FUCK YOU SPELL MUSHEEN THAT FUCKING THING

Alex laughed at Chandler's never ending spelling errors. With out knowing it, Chandler always made him feel better, and that's the best type of friend.

A: yea

A: he's rly busy with work so hasn't
gotten round to it

C: Well my mom is getting suspicious about my surplus need for shirts, so force him to do it soon

A: kk

C: Ok, black shorts and what colour
shirt?

A: I dont care

C: Red or purple?

C: Choose

A: just pick one

C: No you