Hanging By a Thread | Scömìche MPreg COMPLETED

chapter ten// never again

Hurting the ones you love, unintentionally, is one of the most painful feelings in the world.

It hits you, terribly hard, but the first blow isn't what hurts the worse.

It's the ricochetting pain that's thrown at you once the damage is dealt.

The harder you accidentally hurt the ones you love, the harder that ricochet is.

Hurting two of the people you love the most doesn't even ricochet. It shoots you, throwing you to the ground and continuously stabbing you. The constant mental torture reminding you it's your fault your fault your fault.

"I didn't mean to hurt him. I never meant to hurt him!"

Your fault your fault your fault.

"He was the one who left me! He hurt me!"

Your fault your fault your fault.

"O-okay. My fault. It's my fault. I hurt him."

Your fault your fault your fault.

"I'm sorry! I love him! I'll never hurt him again. Never again."

Sometimes the pain goes away when you get up, those memories dissipating into the past like they were never real.

Or, when you wake up, they get worse. It's proof it's real, and it only gets worse as the day progresses.

He didn't have time to have a pity party today, however. The parents of the boys who beat up Brady, as well as another victim-parent trio were coming over. He had to be strong.

His body felt numb, numb with pain that shouldn't be there. It should be long since gone, but seeing him again had reminded him of how bad it hurt.

His mouth was like cotton, dry and thick. It was seemingly impossible to pry open his mouth to brush his teeth, but it eventually happened.

The scent of bacon and the sound of small talk filled his senses when he exited the bathroom, leading him to believe their 'guests' had already arrived. He hurriedly threw on a pair of boxers and a sweatshirt, racing downstairs.

"Someone decided to wake up," a voice yawned from in from of him, passing him a plate of bacon, eggs, and a cinnamon roll.

"Y-yeah. Sorry, Mitch. I didn't get much sleep last night and my body completely-"

"Babe, it's fine. It's your house, remember?"

Your fault your fault your fault.

Scott just nodded, looking towards the two women sitting at the table with a little boy.

"Are these Nick's parents?"

Nick was another kid constantly bullied by the children who beat up Brady. Mitch had invited them over to discuss the situation, and for backup when the time came to start swearing at them.

One of the women stood, dull brown hair with fading blonde streaks. Her brown eyes were bright, but tired and seemingly empty. She offered her hand and a smile, "Booth. Jacqui Booth."

Scott shook her hand, surprised at how strong the grip was, "Hoying. Scott Hoying. Is she your wife?" he gestured to the other woman, she was shorter with short dirty blonde hair, harsh freckles mashed together along the apples of her cheeks and nose. She looked petrified to be around this many people (there was five in total).

"Yeah. Riley! Come here," her eyes had lit up when her voice raised to call over her wife. The woman, Riley, got up and shakily wrapped her hands around Jacqui's forearm with an uneasy smile.

"Hi," she spoke, "I'm Riley. Well, you already knew that, didn't you? I'm Jacqui's wife, and Nick's mother."

Riley left quickly after that, returning to her spot at the table next to Nick.

"Is she alright?" Scott spoke under his breath, honestly bewildered by her behavior.

"Riley has social anxiety, terribly. It's nothing personal, just a psychological defect that she got passed on from her mother," she was entirely calm about the situation, sitting down next to Riley and leaving Scott the only one standing (this was soon changed, as he pulled up a chair from the dining room to the table and sat).

The six of them talked, briefly mentioning how the other parents would be arriving soon. None of them knew exactly how many people were to show up, mainly due to being oblivious to how many kids messed around with Brady and/or Nick. Riley was growing more anxious as time went on, leaning closer and closer to an exhausted Jacqui.

There was something admiral about their relationship. How physically tired one person could be, and how terrified of people one person could be. Despite all of this, they managed to find comfort in each other and raise a son together.

It made Scott want to hug Mitch, it made him want to hold him against his chest and promise his that he'd be there. He wouldn't flake out and leave again.

But he couldn't.

And it was his fault.

Your fault your fault your fault.

-

It was sometime around four in the afternoon when there was a harsh knock on the door. Mitch called for whoever it was to come in, assuming it was the parents of the bullies.

Three women, and three men, walked into the living room where Nick was playing on the floor with Brady, Jacqui was sleeping on top of Riley on the couch, and the two divorcees were standing next to the couch.

"Excuse me, tall blonde?" Scott snapped his head towards the woman who attempted to get his attention.

"Scott."

"Tomato, potato. I believe you and emo's wives are cuddling on the couch."

Riley began to laugh so hard she got a coughing fit, waking up Jacqui. The two fell onto the ground, letting out small shrieks.

"I- ha! Oh my god," the two women picked themselves off of the ground, faces going limp when they saw who was there.

Mitch stepped up before anyone got to say anything, however. He was shorter (and gayer) than any of the people here, and he sure as hell was the most protective, "Kids, go into the guest room upstairs," pause, "listen here, you sorry excuses for parents: I will give you each a chance to explain why the Booth's son and our son came home bruised and crying. If you say a god damned homophobic comment as an excuse, I will call the school and get your children expelled. Whoever wants to go first, spit it out."