Coffee, Cigarettes And Other Drugs

Refuge in alcohol

Dylan's fingers twined through Chené's hair, her hands resting on his chest, het fingers slightly curled in as the kiss deepened.

The kiss faded as they collected their thoughts, stormy eyes meeting the sapphire of hers, where it lingered; unspoken words told through this moment.

Chené's voice came out a whisper.
"Goodnight Dylan"
Dylan spoke equally hushed.
"Goodnight Chené"

Dylan made his way home with a foolish smile plastered on his face. The stars sparked furiously against the velvety night, rejoicing with him.

Making his way past the local swimming pool, satisfaction coursed through every cell in his body as his mind kept replaying the memory of the warmth of her lips against his.

Dylan walked up the narrow stone pathway leading to his front door. He could hear the shooting from outside the house. His hand hesitated on the doorknob.

He opened the door slowly.

They were fighting again.

His mother and step father were arguing about in necessary things as per daily ritual when the sub set and darkness took hold of the world.

He tried to make his way to his room unnoticed even though their scowls were fixated on each other.

With a thud Dylan down on his bed. He tried to drown out the shouts behind the walls with shouts from his speakers.

It almost worked.

It has been like this for a few years. Their first business failed and they sought refuge in alcohol, drowning their sorrows and regrets in its fiery taste.

Philip, his step father, started to yell especially loud then, breaking through the sharp sounds emanating from the speakers.

His eyebrows furrowed; his fingers clicked faster on the keyboard.

His mother yelled back loudly, desperation laced in her voice

"Don't fucking lie to me Elaine! You're nothing!" Philip growled at her.

She retaliated with her own sharp words.

"Me, me?! You never fucking do anything. I'm the one that does the most work around here!"

A cold chill crept down Dylan's spine, forcing his attention to his background.

Please stop. He pleaded in his mind.

The next thing he heard was only shouts. The angry yell of Philip and the distressed yell of his mother.

Adrenaline inflamed his veins, spiking his nerves to extreme sensitivity, sobering him up immediately.

"Leave them alone. She should fight her own battles." He repeated these words like a mantra, trying to coax calmness back into his system.

"Philip!" Elaine yelped.

Dylan sprang from his bed, darting for the door. Outside his sister was telling at them trying to understand what was going on.

Dylan's eyes zoned in on the picture of his step father's hero y around his mother's arms, forcing her into a corner, the picture of fear etched on her face.

Dylan's brain filled with that familiar feeling of being distant and uncertainty whenever he got into a physical disagreement with someone.

"Leave her the fuck alone!" He yelled, concern for his mother overcoming his self preservation instincts.

Philip's bloodshot eyes settled on Dylan.

"Don't you tell me what to do" he sneered at Dylan, punching him on the chest, sending him reeling against the kitchen table.

Anger joined the flames in his veins, furthermore distorting his logic.

He grabbed the first object out of a tin of kitchen utensils and made toward Philip.

His eyes widened in surprise.

"What, you want to stab me?" He spat the words in a drunken slur as he stared at the knife in Dylan's hand.

His sister stepped between them, coaxing Dylan down, leading him back to his room.

He tossed the knife away; it slid over the tiles with a hiss, and slammed his door with as much force as he could muster, the frame shaking at the brute force. He quickly locked the door just as Philip came banging at it.

With unsteady hands he took out a cigarette, the steam of nicotine extinguishing the flames beneath his skin.

The sobs of his mother at the door barely reached his ears as he focused on the thuds of the music.

That night Dylan chains smoked his packet, not caring about the cough threatening in his throat.

The beauty of the night stars seemed faded now by the dark canvas on which it was displayed.

A/N

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