Counting Stars and Scars {Kellic}

19. Never Thought You'd Fall So Far

{Song- Fallen Angel by Three Days Grace}

(A/N: Shoutout (yes, another one, sorry,) to PierceTheCas   (literally just realized that when I published this I actually forgot to add the name? Apologies.) for first of all being really cool, and also introducing me to this song in their story All Fucked Up. It's really good. Go read it.)

-Kellins POV-

It's been hard watching Vic struggle, that's for sure. I realize that I'm falling in love with him more and more every single day, and as cliche as that is, I can't help but to admit it.

I hate seeing him pain. I know he can't help it, but I just want him to get better. Hopefully now that his parents know, he'll start on his way to recovery.

I hope I hope I hope.

As for me, I have no idea what'll happen. Vic wants to help me as well, but what's it going to do? Nothing in my life never actually goes well, except for having Vic, and even that I almost fucked up completely. He almost died, for Christ's sake. It was my fault.

My fucking fault.

I want to tell myself that I shouldn't be with Vic, not if I'm just going to screw it all up, but I just love him so damn much. So I'll just keep pushing though. I'll cross my fingers and hope to God that we can work this out.

I sigh, picking my bag up from off the floor of my bedroom. It's Saturday night, and I was hoping to go hang out with Vic, but that also means risking going past my drunk father who's passed out on the couch. Before you ask, he really doesn't get drunk that often. Just once in while, and then he usually sleeps it off. The thing is, he's been even worse then usual. I have countless bruises and scrapes all over my body; nothing too bad. It's just there.

I'm just scared that one day he won't stop.

I tiptoe my way down the stairs in the dark. Unfortunately, I forget that my mother had placed a giant bag of old books that she had wanted to get rid of at the bottom of the stairs. Honestly, why the fuck would you put a pile of fucking books at the bottom of the fucking stairs?? Why?

I let out a loud yelp as I crash ungracefully into the blasted things, followed by a string of colorful curse words. I hop around, holding my injured foot and swearing like a sailor. Although, immediately go silent when I hear rustling in the living room, where my dad is sleeping on the couch.

Shit.

My father quickly appears, rubbing his face and glaring from his little beady red eyes. "The fuck is going on here?" He growls, staring me down.

"Sorry, Dad," I say submissively. "I just tripped."

He looks me up and down. "The hell you did. Where do you think you're going?"

I slouch further into myself. "Um. I was going to chill with the boys and stuff."

He scoffs. "Yeah right. You mean you were going to see the little faggot Fuentes kid, weren't you?"

I scowl at him. "Don't call him a faggot."

My dad laughs. Well, more like snorts unattractively. "You defending your boyfriend?"

"Yes, actually," I shout. "He's my boyfriend. I love him and you're going to have to deal with it."

He immediately goes red in the face and raises up a fist. I flinch back, suddenly aware of what I just said. Fuck, that was a mistake. My dad lunches at me, going right for a punch to my stomach. I double over, groaning in pain. He takes that as a chance to send some kicks my way as well.

"No. Son. Of. Mine," he says in between hits, "Is. Going. To. Be. A. Fucking. Faggot."

I think I'm crying, I'm not actually sure. And are those screams mine? I zone out as much as I can, trying to focus on anything other then the pain. Vic. I think of Vic. His beautiful brown eyes, curly hair, that small smile he gets when someone's talking about a band he loves.

The next thing I know, the punches and kicks stop. I look around from my place on the floor, groggily blinking to try to make out what's going on through my blurred vision.

Things are going in and out of focus, but I see my mother, standing there in front of me. I'm a little confused, because I didn't even realize she was home.

I hear yelling. I think I black out for a little while, because the next thing I know, I open my eyes and my mother is kneeling over me with tears in her eyes.

"Oh god, Kellin, I'm so sorry," she cries. She brings up a hand to wipe away the tears rolling down her cheeks and takes a deep breath, sniffling. "Come on," she adds. "Let's get you up."

My mother gently takes my arms and helps me up from the floor. I bite my lip, trying to not make any sounds as the pain ripples through my body. We head over to the couch and she sets me down there.

My father is nowhere in sight.

She looks me up and down. "Are you okay?"

I give her a look.

"Right, obviously not okay. I mean, any broken bones you think? Do we need to go to the hospital?"

I shrug, and then wince again. "I don't think so. It's really bruised."

My mom looks down at floor, her jaw clenching. "Kellin, I'm so sorry."

"Mom-"

"No, listen to me. This is my fault. If your father and mine's marriage was working, he wouldn't have done this to you. If I had tried a little harder, maybe-"

"Mom, this isn't your fault," I interrupt her. "If anything it's mine for being gay."

The upset look on her face is instantly replaced to one of rage. "Don't you dare say that. That's no excuse for what he did."

I'm a little taken aback at her defense, but I definitely could get used to it.

"We're leaving," she says all of a sudden. "I'm getting a divorce and we'll live together, just us. I think I have enough evidence against your father for full custody of you until you turn 18."

"It's only a in a couple months, Mom," I say. "I'm sure I can wait it out until then."

"Absolutely not. I can get an apartment close to work; one of my friends owns it." She sighs, looking at her hands. "I just want you to okay, Kellin. And we'll be okay."

Even though everything hurts, I lean over and wrap my arms around my mother. She willingly leans in, and we hug for a while as I try to wrap around my head what's going on.

It's finally happening. I'm getting away from my father, and I don't have to leave Vic.

Speaking of Vic...

"Mom?" I ask, pulling away. "Can I call Vic? He'll want to know what's going on."

"Of course, sweetie," she says, smiling warmly. "And one of these days I want him to come over for dinner. Officially, as your boyfriend."

I grin. "Of course."