𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙚 𝙄𝙣.

Get Through This Undefeated.

That same night, West walked with a spring in his step on his way home from the park. His dad was working late, so he'd have the whole house to himself. Nights like that came once in a blue moon, so he planned to fully enjoy it.
He unlocked the front door, breathing a sigh of relief when he was met with an empty house.

West dropped his backpack on the floor, then sprinted up the stairs before bursting into his room.
The walls were white and bare, no photos or posters hanging on the walls, no trophies or merchandise of his favorite bands. Just his bed, a nightstand, a desk, and two doors that led to his closet and bathroom. Absolutely nothing in the room suggested that it was home to a teenage boy, and he'd never felt the urge to make it so. He believed his stay in that house was temporary.

West slipped off his blue Vans, then walked to his bed so he could retrieve something under it.

It was a White Gibson Electric guitar, the dozen scratches on it indicating that it was a well-loved item from a pawn shop.
He'd been playing it for a year and a half. But no one knew that about him, that he loved music, that he wrote music. He didn't want to share that part of his life with anyone, if no one knew about it, then no one could take it away. He pulled the amp out of his closet, plugged it into his guitar, then closed his eyes and started strumming the notes to his favorite song.

'Feels like I've know you my whole life
I can see right through your lies
I don't know where we're going
But I'd like to be by your side
If you could tell me how you're feeling,
Maybe we'll get through this undefeated,
Holding on, for so long...'

"Well, I'll be damned... I didn't know you could sing like that, Weston. Please, don't stop on my account."

He knew exactly who that rough voice belonged to.
His dad leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching him with sadistic grin on his face.
The life immediately drained from West's eyes, he found himself wishing for the earth to open up because he would've gladly jumped into the abyss if it meant his dad would never find out about his secret. He swallowed the lump in his throat, then opened his mouth to speak.

"Dad... you're back..."

"Paul? How many beers do you want?" A shrill voice asked from downstairs.

"Bring the whole pack!" Paul yelled, as if he wasn't drunk enough already. "You're lucky Steph is here today, else you would've regretted playing that piece of junk in my house." He hissed.

"I'll-- I'll get rid of it."

His father shot him a wry look, before slamming the door hard enough to loosen it's hinges and taking off to his room to get wasted with his lady friend.

Paul was a relatively attractive man, he could get any woman he wanted.
The many years of alcohol abuse did nothing to his appearance, he could still charm his way into the ladies' hearts. But If only they knew the monster that lurked beneath.

West put his guitar away with an ache in his chest, and hoped to God that his dad wouldn't go rummaging through his things when he left for school the next day.
--

"I'm so glad you could start right away. I only have one employee and he's too stubborn for his own good, doesn't believe he needs extra hands. But, I'm sure he'll be happy once he realizes how much of a help you'll be!"

Killian smiled at his new employer's chipper tone, he hoped the boy that worked for her was just as friendly and welcoming, "I sure hope so."

The woman - Shirley, handed Killian his uniform before slipping into her office,
"I'll be in here if you need anything."

His gaze drifted to the green cotton shirt that lay in his hands. 'Shirley's Flower Temple' was printed in red, bold letters and was encircled by white roses in the shape of a heart.
He had been searching for a job around town the whole day 'til he finally found one as a florist's assistant. He knew next to nothing about flowers but he knew there were roses and daisies and violets. He'd learn.
-
Killian's shift started at 4 PM and apparently, the boy from school clocked in at 5, so he had a whole hour to himself. He took the time to familiarize himself with his surroundings, and soon enough it was 5 PM.
He was cleaning the counter when the person he vowed to stay away from, came in through the door - wearing the exact same green golf shirt that he had on.

For West, seeing Killian behind that counter and wearing the exact same shirt as him felt like a punch to the gut. Like the Universe was playing some cruel, elaborate joke on him.
Every way he turned, he'd be there. The party, the skate park, the bleachers... he'd even begun to notice him whilst changing classes in the hallways. Killian Ackerman was a damn labyrinth.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He sneered, even though the logical part of his brain knew exactly what Killian was doing there. Shirley had mentioned something about getting an assistant, he just didn't think it'd happen so soon, didn't think that assistant would end up being him either.

The irritability in West's voice only made Killian raise a brow, "Kinda work here now." He answered passively.

"Is there another person clocking in at five?"

Because there was absolutely no way he'd just taken a job to be West's assistant.
West walked over to the counter to retrieve his rubber gloves before fixing Killian with an aggravated stare,

"I'm the only one who works here."

"Well," He nodded, resigning to the fact that staying away from West was going to be impossible from now on. "I'm your new assistant... Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately." West reiterated.

"Look, I'm not stalking you or anything, okay? I didn't know you worked here... and, I needed a job, so..."

"I don't care. Just stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours."

With that, West slipped into the garden to work on some of his plants, him and Killian being in sour moods for the rest of the night.
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