The one night he hadn’t been there to do it, his mother had choked on her own vomit, and then suddenly there was no one to bust him out of foster care anymore, and no one for him to take care of. He was all alone, and all because she had decided to go to a new years party instead of doing her usual snatch and grab of him when she came to visit him at whatever foster home he had been placed in.
When he was sure Mr. Dawson wasn’t going to roll anywhere, he looked around the room to see all the pictures and pretty watercolor works Sally had hung in here had been ripped off the wall and torn to shreds, their broken frames scattered all over the place. The white wooden desk and it’s matching chair looked like they had been broken into several pieces. When he wandered into the bathroom, he saw it was largely untouched, save for the mirror, which had been smashed to bits, the glass all over the sink.
He swallowed thickly at the sight before he quietly left the room, leaving the door open as well as the one to the master suite so he could hear if the other started vomiting again.
He got into bed then next to a half asleep Sally, who groggily asked where he had been. He turned over to go asleep before he could think of a proper answer though, and he figured that was for the best.
He had hoped that would be a one off thing, but he was wrong.
The next day was exactly like this one.
A quiet, tense morning, where Sally made breakfast and Andrew fixed his mother’s hangover cure - a fruit smoothie with a splash of vodka - and made sure Sally made a plate for Mr. Dawson as well, something she semi resisted before conceding.
After work, and then after school, they had another tense dinner. Andrew had tried to prepare grilled cheese and tomato soup, but his attempt had caught fire and so after he cleaned up, he had helped Sally make chicken salad sandwiches.
Sex didn’t happen that night either. He tried, he really did, but when he heard Mr. Dawson storming down the steps he got anxious and Sally just had him give her oral before she cleaned up and laid down in a huff.
He had wanted to try some more, hoping that since Mr. Dawson was downstairs he might be able to follow through, but Sally pulled out her phone and said she had to text her mother.
So Andrew went downstairs to get a drink of water before bed and found Mr. Dawson in worse shape than the night before. He did the same as before. After Mr. Dawson cornered him and slurred some heated, angry words, Andrew stood with him as he puked, helped him rinse his mouth, made sure he hydrated, and then half dragged him up to his room.
The next night, it all happened the same exact way, except Sally sent him off right after another loud session of him eating her out.
Tonight Mr. Dawson was even worse, and instead of trying to bait him into fighting with his words, he grabbed Andrew by the front of his nightshirt and half slammed him against the wall nearest the sink, going nose to nose with him to glare at him.
Andrew stayed calm and held onto Mr. Dawson’s wrist loosely, keeping his gaze down as the other man hoovered his face right in front of Andrew’s own with a deeply conflicted look. There was a tense minute before Andrew was slowly released and the other man dragged himself over to the sink to begin vomiting.
Andrew stayed with his back to the wall for a minute, watching the other man vomit. He felt sorry for him. He figured it was all catching up to him now, realizing that the home and world he was returning to wasn’t the same he had left. That the life he had was over, and he was going to have to start oer from scratch. Andrew knew that feeling, and it freaking sucked.
Andrew then went through the motions he had for the past two nights. He stood close to Mr. Dawson, rubbing his back as the other man vomited before he turned on the sink and got the other man a glass of water to rinse his mouth out with, having him do so again before he had him drink a full glass of water.
Mr. Dawson clung to the side of the sink then, holding onto it with white knuckles as he turned his head to stare at Andrew as the younger man tried to urge him to let go.
“It’s okay.” Andrew said softly, as he gently tried to pry the older man’s fingers loose. “We’re just going to get you up to your bed.”
“And then what?” Mr. Dawson slurred in a taunt tone, “What are we going to do then?”
“You’re going to go to sleep, and tomorrow will be a new day.” Andrew said, adding “A better day.” In a more hopeful tone.
Mr. Dawson just fixed him with a hard look, but let Andrew pull his hands free and then maneuver one of his arms around his neck. Mr. Dawson did as he always did, tightening his arm around Andrew’s neck until it was almost too tight, but now Andrew was pretty confident that he wouldn’t tighten his arm, no matter how close it felt like he was about to put him into a choke hold.
Andrew carefully took Mr. Dawson up the stairs and into the guest room - which he supposed he should start to call Mr. Dawson’s room. Inside he sat him down on the edge of the bed before he knelt down onto the floor to start untying Mr. Dawson’s shoes. He wondered for a minute if Mr. Dawson actually went anywhere, since he got up and got dressed everyday in his uniform like he went out. He also wondered if Mr. Dawson was doing his laundry everyday, since he was pretty sure the other man just had one uniform.
When he finished he glanced up to see the other man staring down at him with a hooded gaze, his eyes glazed over as he searched his face.
Andrew’s gaze softened and he gently patted one of the other man’s muscular calves. “You should get some sleep-”
“So this is where you are?”
Andrew turned his head to see Sally standing in the doorway in her flimsy robe, her arms crossed over her chest as she scowled at her husband. Andrew swallowed thickly then and stood, making a little motion toward Mr. Dawson. “He’s just a bit-”
“I can see.” Sally drawled, his eyes narrowing. “You never could hold your drink, could you Corey?” She taunted.
“Fuck off!” Mr. Dawson snapped, his posture stiffening.
Andrew sighed and rubbed his face as the two started bickering like children, Mr. Dawson slurring out insults as Sally snapped back angrily. He carried the other man’s boots to set them down by the wall.
He let them scream at each other for another minute before he ushered Sally and her annoyed look out of the room, turning back to help Mr. Dawson into bed before he got him situated. When he was sure he would be okay, he he turned off the lights and went back to crawl into bed with Sally, who turned off her phone as he came in and set it inside the top drawer of her bedside table.
“You don’t have to take care of him.” She said to Andrew in a tense tone. “He’s a full grown man. If he wants to get skunk drunk, he can take care of himself.”
“I know…” Andrew said quietly as he scooted close to her. “I just...I don’t know. It wouldn’t feel right leaving him like that.”
Sally sighed and rolled over to cuddle against him, kissing his chest before she laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re to nice, Andrew.”
“I don’t think so,” Andrew said softly in the darkness, “I just feel like if I was in his situation, I’d want someone to do the same for me. He seemed like he’s hurting pretty bad and if there is something I can do to help alleviate that, I’d like it.”
Sally didn’t respond to that, but for a long few minutes he could sense her laying next to him, awake and thinking in silence. When she finally went to sleep, Andrew relaxed.
If he could just keep them apart so Mr. Dawson could heal and figure himself out, then they could all get on with their lives, and hopefully the other man would find happiness like Andrew felt with Sally.
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