𝗧𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗝𝘂𝗹𝘆 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗔𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱

Chapter Two: ❝𝑻𝒓𝒚❞

Grey loved going home, but he hated the miserable drive with his parents. Instead of a "how was your day?" or a "how are you?", he instead got an earful of his parents' affairs, how they were one hundred thousand in debt, blah, blah, blah.

He couldn't stand being in the same room as them. But he's in the back of a car with them; nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. So now all he could do was blast his music in his headphones and try his best to ignore his screaming parents.

As the car went on, one energy in the car was the most in attendance, anger. All the people in that car were angry at each other, each for different reasons. Grey's mother, Lucille, was mad at his father for his infidelity, her husband, while Grey's father, Markus was mad at his wife for literally anything else. But, Grey, Grey's reason was different, he was mad at his parents for bringing him into this world knowing well that they couldn't take care of him, that they can't give him the love and support he needed.

Was it so much to ask for? Was it really?

Grey gave up with a heavy sigh, glaring out into the window, a frown on his face. He tried to focus on the trees and the people that were passing by and not his screaming parents. Maybe he could find someone familiar, and call them with he got home, saying that he saw them at whatever street and freak them out. Good stuff.

But that dream was cut short when the car came to a forceful halt to his father's yell.

"I'm done! I am done!" he belted at her, unbuckling his seat belt, and hopping out of the driver's seat in his cry of frustration.

"Mark! Get back here," his mother insisted, but he ignored her cry, storming away from the car and leaving them both on the side of the road... for what? Third, fourth time this month? Grey couldn't keep up. His life became a soap opera at this point. Matter of fact, he might as well just grab some popcorn and play dramatic music for the fun.

But he couldn't handle his mother's cries and constant weeping. The shame she must have felt in this moment, the anger. He couldn't handle hearing her wails and screams of frustration in little bits through his headphones. He couldn't fathom the tears that must be on her face.

Shit. He couldn't leave her here. He had to put his big boy pants on, he was almost an adult, after all.

"Mom?" he whispered, before clearing his throat and repeating louder, "Mom?"

She pulled her head out of her hands and stared at him, tears streaming down her face.

"Should I just... drive us home?" he asked sheepishly.

She shrugged and went back to crying, but very softly this time.

"Mom?" Grey called to her once more. No response.

Grey gave up, plucking the headphones out of his ears as he opened the car door and hopped out of the backseat. He opened the front door and sat himself beside his weeping mother, sighing as he watched the tears flow from her eyes.

He wanted to say something, to comfort her, but what could he say? 'I know my dad's trash, but you can find someone better?' 'I feel sorry for your loss?' 'My condolences?' The guy isn't dead yet.

Yet.

So, he shut his mouth and pressed on the gas, and as the car lunged forward in the direction of home, he felt nothing but sorrow. Sorrow for his mother, and sorrow for the fact that his life might as well never be normal. And, honestly, he doesn't care. He just wants to live in peace and not watch his parents' relationship fall apart, but it's something he has the front-row seat of; the first one in line for.

And he would have stayed in his thoughts of sorrow if his mother hadn't muttered something under her breath. Something that he would have ignored if he hadn't heard it.