Chapter 6- Bad Decisions and Guilty Conscience
The light from the refrigerator cut a line of brightness against Pietro’s dark shirt and swiftly widened as he opened the door. Reaching past the bowls of leftover food, he grabbed a brown paper bag in the very back that was carefully concealed behind a box of baking soda. Peering inside the bag was a bottle of amber liquid. He closed the fridge and the room became dark.
"You know, I was wondering whose liquor that was."
"Fuck…" Pietro nearly had a heart attack as he momentarily lost his grip on the bag. He was fumbling with it when the kitchen light switched on and Lance was suddenly peering at him from the doorway with a humorless smile flitting over his lips. "Lance! What the fuck were you doing? Don’t sneak up on people like that!" He straightened up and placed the bag behind him on the chipped counter. "What the hell are you doing home so early anyway?"
"I got off work early." The older boy answered dryly. Pietro licked his lips nervously as Lance approached him looking entirely ticked off. "Did you really think I was that fucking stupid and that I wouldn’t find it in the fridge? When I said you were gonna lay off the drinking for a week, I meant it."
"Well, I-, I-," Pietro started, then shut his mouth. "Fuck it! Whoever said you were the motherfucker in charge around here?" Why the hell was Lance allowed to ground him from going out and banning him from drinking? It wasn’t like it affected anyone else…
The other boy didn’t even try to curb his temper. He had too much on his mind without Pietro grinding down on his nerves over his all-night drinking and all-day hangovers. "Fuck, Pietro! You go out drinking every single fucking night and wake up as an annoying asshole every fucking morning. You’ve been doing this for over a month now! You’re getting addicted to this sort of shit! You’re not even the same person anymore."
"Look, I don’t bother you with what you do in your free time, so why don’t you stop going into mine?" Pietro snapped. "Nothing is ever good enough for you! I bring home the grades, I’ve got a scholarship, and I’m graduating in a couple weeks. And what? I can’t hang out at all now? I have to stay in and start studying extra or shit?"
"It’s not some stupid senioritis trip we’re talking about, so don’t make it out to be that way," Lance said through gritted teeth. He stared hard into his friend’s eyes as he struggled to calm his voice. "Your drinking is getting serious, Pietro. It’s all you think about now. You get totally smashed every single night and either come home reeling or passed out. You never used to drink like this, and it’s not healthy."
"Look-,"
Lance cut him off. "And you’re taking it out on the others. You treat the three of us like shit and this house like shit. The only one you act semi-normal around is Wanda, and that’s during the few minutes that you’re actually home. Not only are you self-destructing yourself, you’re taking it out on ALL of us, so yeah, your drinking is my fucking business cuz I’m the one that’s gotta oversee this family."
"Gee Lance, spoken like a true dictator." Pietro snapped. He was just so sick of everyone just constantly coming down on him. He did everything they wanted. Why couldn’t they just let him alone? "I go out of my way to make you happy with the grades and helping to bring in the money, and since you can’t complain about that, you’ve just got to cut into my social life, don’t you?" He challenged.
"Dammit! You know that’s not what I’m talking about!"
"Yeah? I think you’re just pissed cuz your fucking life is hell and you don’t know how to deal. After Rogue left, you turned into this workaholic zombie and now you can’t stand for any of us to relax and have some fun." This was hitting below the belt, and Pietro knew it, but Lance was being such a tight-assed prick.
Lance didn’t even blink at the other boy’s accusation. "Fun? You think coming home puking every night is fun?"
"Yeah, I guess I do." Pietro answered back sarcastically. He defiantly grabbed the paper bag from behind him and pulled out the bottle of liquor. "I don’t give a fuck what you do in your free time, so you know something? You’re not gonna fuck with mine." He took a swig from the bottle and the cold liquid buzzed at his throat and filled him with warmth. See? He didn’t do it to get drunk. It just made him feel better when his life got all shitty. And life wouldn’t be so shitty if Lance and the others weren’t constantly cracking down on him.
He watched Lance in some twisted amusement as the older boy set his jaw and struggled futilely to rein in his temper. "God, Pietro. You are really asking for it."
"Yeah?" Pietro smiled back bitterly. "I think you’ve been pushing me for a lot longer than you think. If you ever stopped to look into my head, maybe you would’ve seen that. I’m out of here." He pushed past Lance, who just stared at him in shock, then went out the back door, slamming the cheap screen door behind him.
Stupid Lance, he thought furiously as he stomped through the grass. He took another swig from the bottle, welcoming the comforting fuzziness that clouded his head and warmed his insides when he drank. They were always just pushing in on him…Lance trying to be too much, Todd always looking up to him, and Fred…he felt like Fred was constantly judging him. After all, hadn’t the guy always sided with Lance? Everybody sided with Lance. No one ever seems to see my side…
In the kitchen, Lance stared at the doorway from which Pietro had departed. Then he clenched his fist as he stared down at the cheap linoleum floor. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. What the hell had Pietro been talking about? God, that guy needed to just wake up…he did all this work just for them…why did everything have to keep closing in? Every time he tried to help Pietro, the guy just snapped back at him. He was trying, he really was. It wasn’t his fault. He’d never been a dad before and he’d never had practice. He’d never even had a dad to begin with…Lance felt something hot prick at his eyes. Why the hell did life have to be so fucked up? It seemed like nothing worked out for him. He brought a hand to his face, and for the first time since his childhood, he felt himself start to cry.
* * *
Todd was going downstairs to watch some television when he noticed that the kitchen light was on. Who was it? It was nine o’clock, so Lance should still be at work, Fred had class, and Pietro should be…oh yeah, he was grounded, wasn’t he? "Pietro?" Todd poked his head into the kitchen, expecting to see the white-haired boy scrimmaging through the cabinets for some late-night snack, but instead saw…Lance? Was he crying?
Todd blinked, then blinked again, and then actually rubbed his eyes. "Lance?" He asked tentatively.
The older boy looked up as though he’d been shot. "Todd?" He looked away for a moment and wiped his eyes. When he looked back, Todd noticed with a pang that his friend had deep circles under his red-rimmed eyes and his entire body sagged with exhaustion. "Uh," Lance struggled to keep his voice casual. "What’re you doing?"
"Just watchin’ t.v.," Todd said cautiously. "Hey man, you all right?"
He wasn’t all right. "I’m fine," Lance sighed. He remembered what Kitty had told him a couple weeks ago. ‘I’m here.’ It was great that she and the others were here. Just what could they do? You couldn’t talk about these things…talking never solved anything. "I’m going to bed, see ya later." He said tiredly. He walked past Todd and left the kitchen, going up to his room.
Todd stood in the kitchen and watched Lance leave. His friends had problems…and none seemed willing to talk about it. Lance hid behind his work and authority. Pietro hid behind the alcohol. He sighed as he headed out of the kitchen, shutting off the light behind him. He shuffled randomly towards the family room and flopped down on the couch in the dark. At least Fred seemed all right lately. Wanda, he honestly had no clue. He hardly ever saw the girl. But himself?
A couple weeks ago, he would have called himself a wandering soul. Then that college fair had changed things. Who would have ever thought? He’d ended up going to the Reserves program and it had turned out to be rather interesting. It had definitely given him another option to his future besides college. He had to look into it more, but just going to the fair and taking some initiative about the whole matter…Todd knew that he’d headed himself in a certain direction. Maybe it wasn’t the right way, but at least he was going somewhere.
* * *
"And center star Evan Daniels comes down the court. He’s shooting, shooting, SCORE!" Evan slam-dunked the basketball into the hoop and caught the ball for a rebound. "Yeah!" Punching a triumphant fist into the air, he dribbled over to Wanda, who was sitting at the edge of the grass. "Hey, come out and play some."
"Mm, don’t think so," Wanda laughed. The two were hanging out after school in the park where some nets were set up. They’d been coming here for two weeks now, under the guise of working on physics labs. While she’d initially felt some guilt in lying to her brother, she got a secret thrill from making her own decisions and choices. And from being with Evan. Seeing him standing over her, Wanda giggled and scooted away from him. "Evan, you’re all sweaty."
"Yeah, well come out here and get a little sweaty yourself. Come on." He grabbed her hand and pulled her up.
"Evan! I’m wearing a skirt!" She complained, but nevertheless followed him onto the court.
He turned around and dribbled the ball in front of him.
"Come on, a little one-on-one."
"What? I don’t even know how to play!"
Evan stopped dribbling and looked at her in mock horror. "You don’t know how to play?" He was aghast. How could you not know how to play basketball? And why didn’t Pietro ever teach her? The last question was a fleeting afterthought.
Wanda bit her lip and looked at her feet. She shook her head.
Evan stared at her, then grinned. "Come on, I’ll teach you."
"You sure?"
"Yeah!"
He bounced the ball to her, which she self-consciously caught. "All right." Wanda faced the hoop. "K, um, how do I-," she uncertainly lifted the ball over her head.
"Here." Evan got behind her and gently guided her arms into the proper position. "See, just bend your arm and shoot it."
"Like this?"
"Yeah, that’s right."
"Okay." She let the ball fly. It arced through the air and bounced off the backboard, then spiraled into the hoop. Wanda stared at the ball as it bounced toward her, her mouth open in shock. Then in a burst of excitement, she squealed excitedly. "I did it!" She turned excited eyes toward Evan. "Did you see me? I did it! My first basket ever! Heehee!" She squealed again and in a spontaneous fit, hugged him tightly.
"Yeah, great job, Wanda!" After getting back his bearings from being hugged so suddenly, he squeezed her back. A shiver went down his spine when he did that. He let her go reluctantly.
"Oh my gosh! I’ve never even thrown a basketball before!" In her excitement, Wanda was chattering more than she ever did.
"I knew you could do it. I’m telling you, when you’re around me, you do amazing things." Evan smiled at her.
She smiled back. "You think so?"
"Yeah, I really do." He looked deeply into her eyes. They were so blue and clear and pure looking. His eyes slowly traveled down to her lips. Pale, pink, virgin lips.
Wanda sensed the feeling behind him and blushed slightly. However, she didn’t resist when Evan bent down to kiss her and returned it back slowly, savoring the new feel as she did it. Despite it being her first, she felt strange tingles and a strange heat start within her.
They ended the kiss to catch their breath and to gauge the other’s reaction. Then without hesitation, they kissed again, harder this time, and Wanda opened her mouth so Evan could give her his tongue. "Mmm," it felt so good. They put their arms around each other to lessen the distance between them, and only paused and stopped to catch a breath.
Evan finally pulled back and looked at Wanda. "I wanted to do that for a long time, ever since I first met you."
"I-, I guess I was kind of waiting for it." Wanda admitted. She’d tried to ignore the feeling and convince herself that she only liked him as a friend. After all, she had to respect Pietro’s warning. But they’d been too hard to ignore when she was around him.
He seemed to read her mind, and despite the fact that he didn’t care about his arch nemesis, he felt compelled to ask. "What about your brother?"
At this moment, Pietro seemed miles away as she stood in this blissful bubble that accompanies a first kiss. "Right now, it doesn’t matter." She whispered, then kissed him again.
* * *
"Ugh, fuck." Pietro staggered against the front door as his incoherent hands fumbled with the doorknob. He managed to turn the knob and stumbled inside drunkenly. Practically hanging onto the walls, he made it into the kitchen before collapsing against the counters.
He didn’t think he was going to throw up again considered he’d already puked himself senseless and there wasn’t anything left to puke up. He leaned against the counter and pressed his face against the cool top. It felt so good. Trying to get his bearings so he could get upstairs and fall into bed, Pietro hugged the counter in relief.
Just then, Freddy walked into the kitchen. He looked at the miserable form of his friend is disgust. "So, finally got home, did you?"
"What?" Pietro slowly turned around, though every moment was killing him. "Uhhh? Freddy? Why the hell are you still up?"
"Wanted to see when you were gonna get home." The larger boy crossed his arms. He’d noticed Pietro’s drinking for a long time, and he’d finally decided to do something about it. After coming home from a quick coffee after class with Chelsea, he’d found Lance locked up in his room and not talking to anyone, Todd acting mysteriously evasive, and Pietro gone. He’d finally gotten the explanation from a reluctant Todd and decided he’d better do something about it. Lance had too much going on and this problem wasn’t going away. Freddy was sick of seeing Pietro put enough strain on their family because of his own self-indulgent behavior.
Pietro stared up at him. "Yeah, well I’m home now. I’m going to bed." He made to move past Fred.
Fred blocked his way. "We need to talk, Pietro."
"We’ll fucking talk tomorrow. I’m kinda not in the mood to talk now."
"You know you can’t keep doing this."
Pietro scowled up at Freddy. "You going to fucking lecture me too? Well, I already got it, all right? Fuck you all, let me do what I want."
He started to walk away and Freddy turned to watch him. "You are the most selfish bastard I’ve ever met," he said quietly.
Pietro furiously turned on him, which caused a sharp pain behind his eyes that he futilely tried to ignore. "Man, just shut the hell up!" His voice raised with each word. "Why do I gotta fucking lay everything out for you? God dammit, I gotta tell you the reason behind every single thing I do now?"
"Yeah, well come on, I’d like to hear those reasons then!" Fred glared down at Pietro. "You think you’re the only one with problems in this family! You think you’re the only one who’s allowed to hide from them!"
"You’re just being a fucking asshole, Fred!" Pietro snarled.
From upstairs, Todd hid behind the banisters and listened to the entire argument as both Freddy and Pietro’s voices started to rise and get louder until they were just screaming at one another. Each yell caused a sharp pain in his heart as he chewed nervously on his sleeve, his eyes widening with each horrible insult and drunken comeback. God, he couldn’t stand to hear them fight.
Todd wondered if Lance was hearing any of this from his bedroom. If he did, he probably wasn’t going to come in and join in. Why couldn’t Pietro just stop drinking? Not only was it breaking up their strained family, it couldn’t be good for Pietro as well. It seemed like all these problems had started around Wanda’s arrival. He snuck a glance at her closed doorway.
He seemed to be the only person noticing where she really went after school, and it wasn’t any physics project. He didn’t have anything against the black boy, but if Pietro ever found out that Wanda was sneaking out to make nicey-nice with Evan…he didn’t want to think about the consequences. Pietro wasn’t a guy who was very easily forgivable, especially on anything considering his hatred toward Evan Daniels, which was based on grounds that was lost to the rest of the Brotherhood. But all that was too much to think about right now. Listening to two of his family members verbally tear each other apart downstairs, Todd gripped the banister bars tightly and hopelessly wished that things would just stay okay.