chapter trigger warnings: mentions of divorce, abuse, homophobia, homophobic slurs, and alcohol

geoff: are you alright now? you were really shaken up before.

awsten: i've calmed down now yeah

awsten: thanks for the bagel and the juice. after that i probably wouldn't have been able to make myself something to eat lol

geoff: it's not a problem

geoff: if you ever need me to bring you anything or just come over and sit with you

geoff: i'm just a phone call away

awsten: thank you

awsten: so much

geoff: don't worry about it, that's what friends are for

geoff: i have work in the morning, i'm gonna get some sleep

geoff: please try to sleep, even if it's just for an hour

awsten: i'll do my best but i can't promise anything

geoff: thank you

geoff: goodnight loser

awsten: goodnight dork

---

awsten tossed his phone onto the couch and it fell in between the cushions. it was two fifty six am, and he was watching a rerun of a rachael ray episode and eating stale potato chips with the lights off.

he watches rachael make something- he didn't remember what she called it- when his phone buzzes in the cushions of the couch. dumbfounded, he reaches into the couch and feels around for it, his fingers brushing over the device, which buzzes again.

he clicks the phone on, and sees two text messages from his mother. his mother is never awake at this time, so he assumes the worst has happened and quickly taps in his phone password and opens up the text notification.

Honey, your father has been texting me non stop about wanting to see you. He knows that you're older now and can make your own decisions, but he ran it by me first. He said he'll be extremely upset with you if you don't go to see him. If you don't go, that doesn't matter to me, it's completely your choice. He promises he's changed, but I wouldn't blame you if you thought differently.

that's what his mother's first message said, and he could feel his hands begin to tremble at the thought of his dad. he couldn't even bear to read the second message. if you couldn't piece it together by now, awsten has had a rough relationship with his father.

his mother divorced him when awsten was thirteen, and he went to live with her after a long custody battle. he won partial custody, however, and had to see him every other weekend.

before the divorce, awsten and his father weren't the closest, but they didn't hate each other. awsten felt comfortable telling his father secrets and coming to him about problems he had, like a normal father-son relationship.

after the divorce, his father took up drinking. and anyone could tell you, when his father drank, he got angry.

-flashback: this is where the triggering content begins-

awsten recalls a memory of when he was fifteen and he accidentally let it slip that he was gay. he remembers everything about that night. his father was watching the eleven o'clock news and drinking his fourth bud light of the night.

awsten was sitting on the couch watching his father as he drank as he talked about this kid in his biology class named otto. he and otto were pretty good friends, and while talking to his dad, let it slip that he wanted to be more than friends.

his father just looked at him. the disgust and disappointment in his eyes was something that he would remember forever. he took another sip of his bud light, leaving it a quarter of the way empty, before smashing the bottle against the wall.

glass shards flew everywhere and awsten covered his face as his dad got up. he pulled his arms off of his son's face and yelled, "fucking look at me!"

awsten looked at him, all color drained from his face as his father just stared at him. "that what you are, huh?" he slurred, "you a fucking f-faggot? huh? that's what you are? say it, tell me you're a fucking faggot."

awsten said nothing, which only made him angrier. his father slammed his fist against the wall of the living room hard, causing the walls to shake and a picture frame to crash down. "fucking say it!"

tears welled up in his eyes as he whispered, "im a faggot."

his father slapped him hard across the face, shocking awsten. his father then grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground, kicking him hard once in the stomach. awsten shielded his face with his arms, silently sobbing and pleading for him to stop.

"im going to bed, awsten, i-i want you to clean this up. if anything i-is out of o-order, your fffucking bitch of a mother will hear about this. are we u-understood?" he hiccupped.

crying quietly into his hands, awsten whispered, "yes," as his father drunkenly knocked over something on the table and went to bed.

-flashback over-

awsten remembered everything about that night. every small detail from the brand of beer to the color of his shirt to which news anchor was on that night stood out to him.

at this point, he couldn't tell he was crying until he licked his lips and tasted something salty. he then read his mothers second message.

He lives in Brooklyn, darling. He left his number. It's 781-XXX-XXXX.