Out of Your League

Chapter Eleven

((How'd you guys like that cliffhanger? I know, I'm an asshole. But just FYI this chapter and the next will be angsty. Very angsty. Warnings are physical abuse, self-harm, and alcoholism. Thank you for your support! - Wolfie))

Keith had avoided Lance all day. Lance made an effort to talk to the omega, but Keith ignored every attempt the alpha tried. Even during soccer, Keith ignored Lance. Unless Lance shouted things during the skirmishes, Keith completely shut him out. 

After discovering that the person he'd been talking to online was in truth the soccer team captain, Keith instantly went into panic mode. He shut off his phone and stayed off of it until the morning. He had remained silent for the most part for the entire day, not talking to anyone, even Allura. 

"Keith! Please, talk to me," Lance pleaded, jogging to catch up as Keith made his way to his motorcycle, hair still wet from his shower. 

Keith shook his head, spraying drops of water around him in shining arcs, he pulled on his helmet before swinging his leg over the seat. He jammed the key into the ignition, revving the engine. Gravel crunched under the wheels as Keith rode out of the parking lot, leaving Lance brokenhearted and in the dust. 

Heart pounding, Keith broke the speed limit all the way back to his father's house. On the way there, it had begun to rain. Luckily, he'd worn his leather jacket, which kept him dry. The rain had numbed his fingers, however. He only ever wore his finger-less gloves when he took trips on his bike, even in the winter. He pulled into the garage, his heart plunging to his feet when his eyes landed on his father's beat up old Chevy Silverado. Keith hastily took off his helmet, gloves, and jacket, piling them on the seat of his bike before he made his way to the side door where he took off his boots and socks. 

Swallowing, he opened the door, wincing at the creaking. He made sure to tread softly, hoping his dad would be knocked out. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky. A deep and raspy voice boomed from the living room, making the omega flinch. 

"Why the hell are you so late?!" 

"I-I had practice..." Keith squeaked before clearing his throat. He shuffled to the living room, keeping his shoulders hunched in and arms curled against his chest. 

"That's no excuse! I come home to a messy house and no son! What am I supposed to think?!" Keith's father stood from the couch, reaching to his full height of six foot three. His broad chest spread out and his bulky arms crossed over it. His deep brown eyes blazed as he stared at Keith, making the smaller boy tremble. 

"M-messy? I-I cleaned on Saturday!" Keith protested. The minute the words left his mouth he regretted it, knowing that back-talk would make the whole situation worse. 

"Don't sass me, you ungrateful little shit!" Roared the large man, raising an arm and bringing it down, palm open. His callused hand collided with Keith's face with so much force that it knocked the omega to the floor. 

"I-I'm s-sorry! I-I didn't mean it!" Keith whimpered, holding his cheek. 

"And what have I said about stuttering?!" Keith was yanked up from the ground, hard. His shoulder jerked uncomfortably and he let out a yelp of pain. "I will not have a retarded child!"

"I'm sorry!" Keith pleaded, trying his best not to cry. His father's fingers were digging into his wrist, ripping open the scabs on his skin. He scrabbled at his dad's hand, writhing as he tried to get the pain to stop. 

"If you were sorry, you wouldn't have done this!" 

Keith landed on the floor with a crack, his head smacking against the hard wood. His ears rung and his eyes went fuzzy. Shakily, he began to push himself back up. The moment he steadied himself on his hands and knees, a booted foot nailed him in the ribs, sending jolts of pain through him. He cried out, falling to the ground again. He instinctively went into the fetal position, breathing raggedly.