𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙚 𝙄𝙣.

Mother.

Dennis Rickert, Easton's Sheriff, and Paul's twin brother had come over with takeaways from a local diner on Thursday night.

He rarely visited his brother, though. West suspected that Paul had told him to stay away, in fear that he might see how they lived, but Dennis already knew about Paul's abuse.
West had come into the station two years ago after one of Paul's drunken episodes, looking battered and bruised and had requested to see the sheriff himself. He thought that maybe Dennis could get through to his brother, put him behind bars or call social services. Whichever one. He wanted that. But all he got was insults thrown his way.

Dennis made it seem like the abuse was West's fault. He said West provoked Paul, that if he didn't want to be disciplined, he'd start listening to his father. He made it clear that he wasn't about to throw his twin brother under the bus for a nephew he didn't even like. He spared West the courtesy of driving him home though, that was something.

"Thanks for bringing dinner, I'll pay you back... as soon as I can."

"No, s'alright."

"How are the kids?" Paul asked.
He didn't really give a crap about those little rascals, he was just asking for the sake of conversation. He wasn't as close as he would've liked with his brother. And Dennis never said anything, but he still resented Paul for giving everything up when they were teens to take care of West.

"Winona's pregnant again. I don't think the child is mine, I mean... I'm hardly ever home, with work keeping me busy and all." Dennis disclosed.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're real busy, Dennis. Fighting non-existent crime, fucking Detective John-whatshisname, etcetera." Paul jeered.

The fried chicken West was chewing on suddenly got caught in his throat, catapulting him into a coughing fit. The whole conversation had taken a 180 turn.

Is Dennis gay?

West grabbed the nearest glass of water and took a few sips, lubricating his throat so the food would go down easier.
He hadn't noticed how quiet the table had gotten. Dennis's face had twisted into an ugly grimace, (nothing new, really) probably upset that his brother had just divulged his secret to his nephew, a nephew who would probably understand what he was going through more than anyone.

But, honestly, that was none of his business, he grabbed the last remaining biscuit then took his leave, the brothers clearly needed to have a chat.

He stopped short at the top of the stairs when he heard his name in the middle of the conversation, though. The men obviously weren't having a discussion about Dennis's supposed homosexuality. 
Curiosity got the better of him, he hated eavesdropping but he decided to do it just this one time.

"Why is West still here? You know how I feel about that boy." Dennis seethed, not trying particularly hard to keep his voice lowered. He didn't care whether West heard him or not.

"Dennis, He's my son."

"Bullcrap, you hate him just as much as I do!"

"That's not true--"

"Well, you sure beat him like you hate him!"

Paul couldn't come up with a good enough response to that. Dennis sure knew which buttons to press, but Paul wasn't in an arguing mood. West heard him sigh, and then ask Dennis to leave.

The front door opened and closed with a loud bang as his uncle left so he quickly dashed into his room before his Dad could catch him.

As he got ready for work, he couldn't help thinking about the argument the brothers had. He wished he was normal, that he had a normal family and lived in a normal town where people didn't loathe him. Yes, He was used to all the hateful looks and comments. But sometimes it got to him. He wished his mother was there to protect him from all of it. Maybe things could've been different if she'd been around. Maybe Paul wouldn't have turned into the monster that he was, maybe West would know what it was like to be loved.
---

"I'm ready for Flowers 101, Master."

"You're an actual idiot, you know that?"

In the past week, West and Killian had gotten along pretty well, they were far from being friends, but, baby steps.
And even though West hated to admit it, he was warming up to the blue eyed boy.

Killian only smirked at West's comment, "Lay it on me." He declared.

"Okay, so, different flowers have different meanings." West began.
They were seated on a stone bench in the middle of Shirley's garden, overlooking all the variations of colorful flowers.

"Last week Mr Ortega threatened to tell Shirley to fire ME just because YOU sold him Birds Of Paradise. He was on his way to a funeral."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Birds of Paradise symbolize Joyfulness. You were supposed to give him Cypresses, for mourning... or perhaps Harebells, for grief."

"Oh...." Killian frowned, he wasn't sure if he'd remember all that. West was going to have to compile a word document complete with media for him.

"But... Why'd Mr Ortega threaten you, when I was the one who sold the flowers to him?"

"You're forgetting that I'm Weston Rickert," He smiled sadly. "No one really likes me, and everything's my fault."

"Why is that?"

West shrugged, then pointed to an area where pink flowers had recently bloomed. "One of my favorites, they're called Carnations, they symbolize pride and--"

"For what is worth, I like you." Killian cut in. West would have to finish his flower lesson another time. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that everyone in this town seemed to dislike West, for whatever reason.

"You don't even know me, Killian."

"I want to, though."

"Why?" West questioned. Most people would've rather cut their own legs off, than to get familiar with him. This was certainly a new thing. It made him feel wanted.

"Everyone deserves a chance."

West studied Killian's expression. He had a jubilant look on his face. And his smile... his smile enveloped him like a warm hug. The kind of hug that is so comforting, you don't want to let go. If it was possible, he would live in Killian's smile. West suddenly wasn't sure what he was scared of more. The fact that Killian was willing to explore his depths, or that he was willing to let him.

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