AN ; massive tw/cw for guns & suicide!! please do not read this chapter if youre sensitive to those topics, it's okay to skip a chapter (tldr for this chapter will be at the very end, just quickly scroll all the way down if you need it <3) (but srs this was kind of a buildup to the end so if you don't want to read it, don't, the tldr is there for a reason gang 🙏)
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Gabe needed to get his mind off of Ryder and the internal guilt he felt for his father. In some way, after being gone for so long, he felt bad. He wanted to go home one more time and get one last word in before losing to his father for good.
He didn't look like his dad at all, when he looked at the pictures. He couldn't have looked anything less like him, maybe he just got his mom's genetics. He wouldn't know, though. There weren't any pictures of her laying around, he didn't have any extended family to ask either.
So, as he sneaks in his window, his plan to just take the rest of his shit home, he comes face to face with his father. He stands in the bedroom door, arms crossed, a Coors Light in hand. Gabe, defeated, pulls the rest of his body in his window, his feet landing flat on the floor.
He faces the grown man, waiting for some sort of yelling or physical altercation. But it never came.
"I need to show you something, Gabriel"
Gabe glances between the window behind him and back to his father.
He waves a hand toward the hall, leading him through the home toward the living room. Gabe cautiously follows, quickly and secretly grabbing a pocket knife from under his mattress before exiting his old room.
The scent of beer fills his nasal cavities, smelling like a baseball game, like the one he was just at last week, except way stronger. There was no one here hiding their alcoholism.
His father reaches up above the TV stand, grabbing a picture frame from off the little stand that held the DVD player. He uses his free hand to wipe the thick coat of dust from the glass frame, then hands it to his son.
As Gabe holds it, he doesn't know what he's looking at. He looks up at his father for some words.
He points down at the little kid's face first. "That's you," His finger slides up to the woman holding him. "That's Mom"
Gabe hadn't felt such a wave of emotion crash over him like that in a long while. He didn't know whether to feel sad or angry or both. He didn't even know how to express how he was feeling.
His father shares a solemn look with him, understanding that burning pain he was feeling. He felt it radiate, his heart breaking into two.
Gabe looks around at the floor, cans and glass piling up to the ceiling fan, all alcohol. Some cigarettes and joints join the mix as well.
