harshboldcharm | locked to likeavolcano

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It was late and he shouldn't have been out. No, he should have stayed home and drunk himself into a coma and passed out on his floor in the apartment. Instead, he decided to parade his night of misery all over town, bar hopping and getting kicked out of two. He stumbled upon the one he was at, though he didn't actually enter the bar. They were passed closing time and he was too drunk to get another one anyway. Maybe he wasn't that drunk. It could have just felt like he was trashed. There was a really shitty combination of something going on in his head.

He anxiously grabbed a cigarette from the pack he carried in his pocket. He'd gone through almost an entire pack in a night, which was unlike him in so many ways. Lighting it, he took a long drag and felt for a few moments how that might just save him from himself for now before he had to stumble home and make his way to bed. He'd be lucky if he got there. Not on nights like this. Not tonight. Not this day.

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Wylie opened on eye and shook his head, before closing it again. He took another drag and shrugged. "One night every year... that's all I give myself," he replied. It didn't at all answer the question, but he wasn't currently coherent enough to tell the story as it should be said. It wouldn't be giving the right kind of respect to those involved. However, just before the elevator arrived, he opened both eyes and looked at Johnny, a suddenly solemn and pained expression on his face, "you'll think different of me."

Johnny blew out a stream of smoke towards the ceiling and hooked his arm around Wylie again to pull him into the elevator now that it had arrived. "You know how I made assumptions about you in the coffee shop? Well, now you're making them about me. At least give a guy a chance before cutting him down for being a jerk." He tucked the cigarette between his lips, letting it hang from the corner of his mouth as his took Wylie's face in his hand and brushed his thumb over his cheek. It was true that he was cuddly, and into PDA. He couldn't help it. He was a tactile person, and he expressed himself physically. It was usually better than anything he could say. "So this would be the one night, yeah?"

That tender look broke him. He looked like everything he'd ever held up to keep people out, fell apart and out of the way. Wylie noticed then that he had to reek and that it was stupid that Johnny was willing to put up with him at all. Hell, Wylie wasn't even that good of a guy on his best days. He took a deep breath, cigarette between his fingers as he simply stared back. "Just one night," he repeated. There was a sharp reminder in the back of his head about why. "I can't tell you while I still feel like shit... can I use your shower?"

"'Course you can. You can make yourself as comfortable as you're capable of making yourself," Johnny told him with a slightly amused look. "And if there's anything in my closet that you could deem even a little suitable for you to wear, you can borrow any of my clothes, too. I'll get yours in the washer. The elevator dinged and Johnny broke eye contact so that he could guide Wylie to his apartment, let the poor guy wash off some of his bad night. "I'll make the coffee, you shower. You hungry? You should probably put something in your stomach. Maybe just some toast?"

It was nice - which he didn't want to admit - to have someone who was willing to help him out. Or at least someone willing to make sure he didn't stumble his way into an alley and pass out. There was always that possibility when it came to him on nights like this. Wylie just nodded. He couldn't convince himself to say much else at the moment. He offered food and that actually made his stomach turn. He gave a sort of nauseated look and shrugged. He wasn't in the mood to be picky.

Once they made it inside his apartment, Wylie didn't bother saying anything else. He just wandered off towards the shower. Cranking the heat up to an uncomfortable temperature, he stood under the stream, hardly thinking, willing himself to breath only. At least he wouldn't smell disgusting. He couldn't bare to be in there longer than necessary and it did help somewhat, so when he climbed out and grabbed a pair of Johnny's sweats to wear, he gave up and figured that was suitable enough. He didn't make it much further out of the room until he sat himself heavily on the couch, slouching, legs splayed and a hand over his eyes.

Johnny heard the water get shut off, and once he'd finished making the coffee he brought the mugs into the main room, a plate of toast balanced on his forearm. It was as much for him as it was for Wylie, Johnny starving after his shift. It just had a few extra slices than he would normally have.

He sat the mug of black coffee in front of Wylie on the coffee table while keeping hold of his. He sat down next to his younger man and dropped a couple aspirin into his open palm. "Gotta say, it's sexy as shit seeing you in my sweats, but I realise this isn't really the time to be telling you something like that."

Wylie snorted a laugh, cracking a smile for the first time all night, when Johnny commented on the current state of his clothing situation. He reached forward for the coffee, downing the pills and then relaxed back again, balancing the mug on his knee, fingers laced through the handle. He looked at the toast, but absolutely could not convince himself that eating would help. In fact, he was pretty sure it would come back to bite him, so though he appreciated the gesture, he realized he'd rather not be throwing up the same thing later.

"Thanks," he said softly. It took him a moment to get up the courage to look over at him. He hated feeling this vulnerable. He hated having to think about days like this and though it only came once a year... it was enough to ruin him. At least it felt that way.

Johnny smiled a little too, relieved to see that Wylie was at least still alive. He patted his leg gently before taking a sip of his coffee and just sat quietly. If Wylie wanted to talk, he would talk. Otherwise Johnny would just keep him company at least.

He pulled his mouth to the side in thought as he looked at the other man. "Whatever else you might think, I do actually care about you. So you're welcome, but you really don't need to thank me. Call this my good deed for the day. I had to do one eventually."

He smirked, but couldn't get himself to say anything else. He would have when he was feeling up to it, but it was fairly clear that this wasn't one of those times. He gave a long exaggerated sigh, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. He needed to just tell him.

"My biological father died before I can remember. He had a heart condition," he paused, "my mom was my hero. She raised me on her own and luckily she met another guy, one that could take care of her. Garrett, my step-dad was anything I would have needed in a father. I think I was five when they married." He paused again, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling this time.

Again, Johnny stayed quiet, but his expression had shifted into one of sadness. Losing a parent was never going to be easy, even if you didn't remember them. He let his hand rest on Wylie's thigh and waited for the rest.

"When I was about eight, my mom left me at home with Garrett - which wasn't weird - while she and her friends had a girls' trip out to Vegas. On their way back, they stopped just outside the city at a gas station. She called home from a pay phone to say hello and let me know she'd be home soon. We exchanged I love you's and that was it," he swallowed hard, tensing slightly. "Two hours later she was reported missing. Thirteen hours after that they found her body in a ditch of the highway about a mile and a half from that pay phone. She'd been sexually assaulted and murdered. Slit her throat..." Wylie took a deep breath. He had to take a second.

Johnny had to set his mug of coffee between his knees so that he could cover his mouth with his hand. His stomach twisted at the visual, and just how emotional Wylie had to be to even remember this... To be living with it. He couldn't think of anything to say, so there was another squeeze of Wylie's thigh as he just looked at him. He thought he could feel tears welling up in his eyes but he wasn't really sure. He just never understood the assholes that did shit like that. "Fuck..."

"That's only half of it," he gave a bitter laugh. Shaking his head he looked over at him and continued, "Garrett turned into a drunk. Losing my mom was hard on him and he spiraled out of control quickly. He had custody over me. I didn't have any living family that I knew of and Garrett's favorite past time became beating the crap out of me. That didn't stop until I was big enough to fight back and even then one or both of us ended up with a black eye."

"I was stuck. At sixteen I was an asshole of a kid, starting fights, causing trouble. Rumors flew about me. Everyone assumed that the black eyes was from starting fights with other kids. It wasn't until I was seventeen, almost eighteen, that it went far enough where we could deal with it anymore. He threatened a friend... she, uh... Charlotte was thrown to the ground by Garrett and I went after him. He smashed my head against the concrete enough times that I was hospitalized and required surgery to remove the clot putting pressure on my brain. He was arrested that day." Wylie shook his head and looked up at the ceiling again, "Charlotte's family took me in until I graduated and then I left. I've never wanted to feel stuck in my entire life ever again and I have yet to stay in a place for longer than six months since I was eighteen."

He looked over at him, "And that is the poor sob story of Wylie Kerns. Today is the anniversary of my mother's death."

Johnny just looked at him, a heavy frown creasing his features as he rubbed his fingertips against his lips for a long moment. He was trying to think of something to say that wouldn't just come out as curse words about the bastard step-father. He knew it maybe wasn't entirely Garrett's fault, that he had been affected by the death of Wylie's mother, but that excuse only got him so far. He could have turned it around, could have given Wylie the kind of comfort he needed as a kid to help him with his mother's death. He could have honoured her memory better than beating the shit out of her child.

He moved to set the coffee down on table in front of them and moved closer to Wylie as he pulled him into a hug whether he wanted it or not. "I'll kill that fucker if I ever see him."

Wylie gave in, too tired to bother fighting it. He didn't wrap his arms around him, but simply leaned into him. When he threatened to kill his step-father, Wylie shook his head and laughed, "You're too late. He died about a year ago of extremely aggressive liver cancer."

It was depressing really. Anyone Wylie had known to be family was dead. He had no feeling like he was cursed or anything. All he knew is that there wasn't a person blood related to him out there anymore. "I don't have any living family," he pulled back from him, "My biological father has a sister that's still alive, but I've met her only once... now you can pity me and treat me different like everyone else does when they find out about this."

Johnny rest his chin on the top of Wylie's head as he snorted derisively. "Liver cancer was too fucking good for the jerk. Wylie, look... It had to have been hard. I don't doubt that for a fucking second. I don't even want to deny you giving yourself this one day. You need it. Of course you do. This isn't something to just get over and forget."

He took a deep breath and released Wylie so he could look at him again, his hazel eyes studying his face. "I feel sad... I feel sympathetic. I don't pity you. That's not the right word for how I feel about what happened to you at all, about the fact that you have no family. Shit, I can't even imagine. I have my daughter, and I have my parents. They're pretty good people, they just had a son who got into a shitty marriage and did some damage. They forgave me and I'm fucking grateful. You're welcome to them any time you want," he offered with a slight smile. "I'm not gonna treat you differently though. Okay? I won't. But if I'm ever doing something that hurts you, that brings any of this back, then you need to be honest and tell me? Please."

Wylie gazed at him, eyes still looking glazed over and his entire demeanor seemed deflated at best. He had worn all of the drunken haze out of himself and the yearly ritual of acting like a complete ass was over with. The only difference was that this time he wasn't passed out alone on the floor of wherever he happened to be staying. Instead he was here...

He nodded in response. It was the most he could convince himself to do at the moment. He then scrubbed both hands over his face and slouched. "I always feel like shit after today. I never fucking learn," he groaned.

"Some of the most important lessons we never fucking learn, so don't beat yourself up over it. Drink the coffee, and then I'll start you on the water." Johnny leaned over to kiss Wylie briefly. "I'll at least try and make sure you don't get a total bitch of a hangover."

"I'm already gonna have one," he groaned. Wylie gave up on holding himself up after a moment and laid back, head against the arm of the couch and legs draped across Johnny. He buried his face in the inside of his elbow and tried to will away the oncoming headache. There was no use in even trying at this point.

Johnny just huffed out a breath, and smiled to himself, a lot of pieces suddenly falling into place about Wylie's apartment and the fact that he'd never wanted Johnny to be close. He rubbed his hand over Wylie's legs, then slipped it up one of the leg holes to massage his bare skin. "Did you even know you'd come to my bar?"

Wylie still had his face covered, but he shook his head. "I had no idea where I was. I got myself kicked out of two other bars... I think. Jesus, I must have spent a fortune," he groaned again. Maybe it would all make sense to Johnny now why he was the way he was. Why Wylie's apartment always looked bare and why he had no desire to be too close. He had to admit, he wasn't minding this right now.

Johnny couldn't help it, he had to chuckle just a little. "Then perhaps it was fate of some kind that you did wind up out the front of mine. Gotta admit, something wants to keep bringing us together. Maybe it's just that I'm stubborn enough to ignore you not wanting this to be more."

Wylie looked at him, lifting his arm to scowl. "How many times do I have to tell you that you have no idea what I want?" he asked. Wylie rubbed his face again and then looked at him, one arm tucked behind his head for support. "Its not that I don't want more... it's that I'm not good at more and you will be the one left behind. You get that right?" he replied, deadly serious. He wasn't going to even address the small thought he had that maybe he should try and stick around longer this time.

Johnny kept his hand against Wylie's leg, meeting the school with a press of his lips before he just shook his head. "You aren't good at more because you've never stuck around. Maybe I just want to be able to give you a fucking reason to stay around. I'm gonna keep trying."

Very steadily he stared back. His eyes narrowed and he kept himself motionless aside from the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He was stuck between wanting to yell at him for being a fool or kiss him for being willing to be one. He was conflicted and seeing how he reacted to his life story, he was surprised to see that something made sense to Johnny. He wasn't sure why or what to do about it... but it was something.

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