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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"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.

Johnny let his head drop back against the sofa as he stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as he realised his heartbeat had picked up in speed. He was waiting for Wylie to walk out. That was the problem. Now that he knew, now that he understood the reasons behind being kept at a distance, he realised just how much he was wanting to hang onto this man.

Wylie shifted just enough to grab at Johnny's arm. He tugged him, pulling him towards him, hoping to get him to lie down beside him, or half on him, given the narrow nature of the couch. Once he managed to get him there, Wylie ran his hand along the back of Johnny's neck, massaging gently. "I guess I have to take this seriously now that you know," he said softly, "I don't tell people that..."

Johnny managed to get it so that their legs entwined without being uncomfortable, and he slid his arm around Wylie's waist as he rubbed his hand against his side and looked at him. He closed his eyes briefly as he bit back a moan of pleasure, Wylie's hand at the back of his neck sending a shiver rolling down his spine. "Sucks to be you, huh?" he teased quietly. "I'm glad you could tell me, and more than a little egotistically proud at the fact that it was me you told and no one else."

Wylie managed to hide the grin from that last comment. "Don't let it go to your head, Jona," he said, mocking seriousness. He kept his grip at the back of his neck, massaging his fingers against the taut muscle there. He reached with his free hand to take Johnny's hand in his, lacing their fingers.

"Did I mention that I don't actually mind that nickname coming from you?" he murmured before he kissed Wylie's lips softly and then pressed a kiss to his throat before he rest his chin on his chest. "And that all depends on which head we're talking about, Wylie."

Wylie smiled against his lips and then kept that smile when he kissed his neck. He ended up laughing and shaking his head, which did not feel good at the moment, but this wasn't the first hangover he's ever had. "Rude. We were having a perfectly fine, nice conversation and you resorted back to sex," he teased him, though he looked very serious.

"Sex can't be involved in a nice conversation?" Johnny asked with a lopsided grin before he kissed Wylie's chest. "I'm a guy. Everything comes back to sex eventually. We'll just get back to the nice conversation now."

Wylie laughed at him and ran his fingers through Johnny's hair. He shook his head. He let the conversation fall for a moment before he shifted a little to look down at him. "Just... do me a favor and don't bring this up. It's been a long time since everything happened and I'd prefer if the metal plate in my head was the only reminder I had," he looked back up, "I'm still processing everything. You don't get abused for nearly ten years of your life and just walk out of that."

Johnny chuckled quietly too before he gave Wylie's hand a squeeze. It would be hard not to mention this ever again, but when it came down to it, he more than respected this man enough to follow his wishes. He nodded, and stretched up to kiss Wylie. "I promise. If you decide you need to talk again, I'm here."

Wylie returns the kiss. He takes a deep breath and forgoes holding Johnny's hand to wrap his arms around him instead. He was still feeling kind of sick and the mild drunkenness that was lingering was now gone. Instead he was tired and sick, but having someone there with him made it not quite as unbearable. "Thank you," he replied softly, running his fingers through his hair.

Johnny let his head rest against Wylie's shoulder, his fingers massaging his side as he idly brushed them against his skin. After the shower Wylie was warm, and it was helping Johnny relax after his busy night at work. And truth was, it was nice to just be able to cuddle up to someone when he came home at this hour. He might never admit to Wylie, but it was something he definitely craved. He didn't always need the mind-blowing sex. He turned his head to press a kiss to his chest before laying his head back down with a smile. "You're more than welcome, babe."

The exhaustion was starting to finally catch up with him. Lying here wasn't really the most comfortable - aside from Johnny laying half on him - but he wasn't sure if he could convince himself to move without the suggestion. He shut his eyes and drifted between consciousness and drowsy. He still felt sick and tomorrow's hangover was going to take a bottle of asprin to get rid of, but for now this would due.

Wylie wasn't as cuddly one himself. There'd only been one person that he ever wanted to simply hold and she was long gone. He didn't miss her. He didn't even think about her all that often, but the fact that he could see himself being used to this with Jona? It was strange, to say the least.

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