blood runs red ✓

XXXIV

'there's no excuse for the things he did but there's a lot at home that he's dealing with'

- alec benjamin 

august

It was finally Christmas, the one day of the year where August's parents usually never fought. And if they did, it didn't matter, because Juliette Lopez would try her absolute hardest to make sure there was good food on the table and at least one present under their small, minimally decorated tree.

August remembered a lot about his childhood, but he'd also blocked a lot of it out, considering eighty percent of it was incredibly traumatising. But the few memories he couldn't forget was Christmas with his mom.

Even when she became ill.

He was nineteen when his mom first got the diagnosis, and twenty when she started getting treatments and care, only to fall more ill. August got a job as a physiotherapist, which he'd been studying and working hard for the moment he got the chance to. 

Due to previous experience of taking care of an injured person - his mom - for most of his life, and persistent pleading, he managed to finish his studying and got the degree to become a physiotherapist in two years. Then, he begged a manager to hire him and became an employed physiotherapist.

He could pay for medical bills and help other people at the same time. Though life sucked, he still felt good. And then he fell in love, which was good too, until it wasn't. But at least Juliette was okay, right?

Every year, without fail, he spent Christmas was his mom, despite her being ill. He spent Christmas in her small home paid for by Sean, or in the hospital, and despite the circumstances, it always felt okay. Even if it was August taking care of his mom instead of the other way round.

But once August met his boyfriend, Christmas was less enjoyable. Every year, for the past three years, of their relationship, August spent Christmas in Petersburg, with Sean's family, and had to get a three hour cab back to Manhattan to see his mom at night.

But it had to be on Christmas.

This year was no different. Fourth year dining with the Matthews. As long as it made his boyfriend happy, August didn't care. During this time of year, Sean was always in a good mood. And good mood Sean meant uninjured August.

"Ready to see my mom and dad?" Sean kissed his boyfriend, walking him outside towards his red Navara, putting his bags in the back of the pickup. He always stayed over for a few days, somehow okay with the idea of August being home alone.

"Yeah." August smiled. 

Jarrod and Esther Matthews were a sweet, stereotypical old couple. Jarrod liked beers and football, the one where you kick a ball, since he was British, and Esther liked knitting and was moving into the bingo stage in her life. It was strange to think that Sean came from them, considering he was an abusive nightmare and his parents were kind and caring and delightful.

"Do you really have to go see your mom again? My mom always gets so upset when you leave so early. You never stay for long enough, in her opinion."

"Why don't we just go a few days earlier next year?" August responded optimistically. "You know how important Christmas with my mom is; I can't not see her today."

"Mhm." Sean seemed unimpressed, but his jaw wasn't tensed and he wasn't gripping the steering wheel like he was trying to break it off, so August decided he wouldn't apologise and cower in fear.

Three hours later, and twenty-seven minutes, the couple arrived in Petersburg, New York, at the Matthews' home. It was cosy compared to Sean's elaborate mansion. The Matthews weren't poor; they just preferred to stay minimal. No reason to have a huge house if it was just them two, right?