Disregard To Danger (ManxMan)

Bitter and cold(44)

Quincy's P.O.V

"Come on, let's get you into the shower." I say to him after we silently look at each other. The stench of booze tickled my nose as I lifted his heavy body off of the leather couch.  

"Are you going to tell Kendall?" He asks me, worry coating his rough words. 

"Not now." I tell him, not wanting to promise anything I can't keep. If he continues in this direction, then yeah I would have to confront Kendall about it. He deserves to know what's going on under his roof. Though, at the moment it seems like a one time thing. 

Monroe is under stress, and it's pretty sad that he isn't handling it very well. He had resorted to drinking his thoughts away, and that just isn't healthy. In my opinion, If he is trying to help others, he should really put an effort in keeping himself in check. 

"Okay, thank you. I don't know why I did this. I never drink, I actually hate it. The whiskey just called out to me I guess." he muttered, trying to explain his decisions.

"My father drinks. I have never seen him sober." I tell him, watching as his eyes dart away from me.

"I'm sorry that you have to take care of me, you don't deserve to look after an adult." He apologizes as we slowly made our way towards the bathroom. 

"I don't have to, I want to. You are allowing me to stay under your roof." I say to him. Speaking the truth. I am beyond grateful of Monroe. 

"Well, thank you. I need to work on myself and I know that. Walker actually chewed my ass out about that." He said to me, chuckling softly to himself. 

"How is he?" I asked, seeing as it was the first time that he has mentioned his brother.

"He's good, it is hard to see him that way. In that place. It's one of the reasons why I turned to the bottle so to speak." He explained to me. Although what he is saying seems coherent, you could still tell that he is not sober. His eyes seem dazed, and his motor skills are sluggish to say the least. 

" I understand. It wouldn't be easy to see a loved one in that kind of environment. It takes a toll on you, I visited my father in rehab once. It was hard, and we weren't even extremely close." I tell him. I haven't delved into my past with many. People expect for the rich to struggle with substance abuse, seeing as they have the world at their finger tips. So, nobody would bat an eye at the information. It would be all across the headlines though. That's what my family had feared, for the family name to be damaged. 

Avery always wondered why my family owned a house in the small town that the Monroe's lived in, yet it was because they were away from the spotlight. Allowing my father to drink as much as he desired, and for my mother to have the ability to sleep around with whoever she pleases. The fact that my mother and father are still together shocks me, and most likely everybody who actually sees past the pretenses. 

"You have a bad past too." He offers. Looking at me with his glazed over eyes. Even when drunk, his eyes hold power. Which would make most peoples knees tremble. Yet, I've done a good job at keeping my footing around the eldest brother. 

"Not like yours, but yeah. It has not been pleasant." I whispered. Sitting the heavier man on top of the toilet seat. He looks around the bathroom, seeming shocked that he has made it all the way here.

"Are you okay to shower on your own? Just call me if need be. I'll leave some fresh clothes outside of the door. I tell him as I turn on the water. Checking the temperature quickly. Making sure that it wasn't too hot nor too cool. Seeing as neither would be good for the drunken man slouched on the toilet. 

He looks like a young child, just like the photos lining the entrance way walls. He was a cute kid, but in my opinion, which may be a tad bias. Walker is the cutest child. Holden was adorable too, even though I've only met him once and twice. 

"Thank you Q. You're a good kid. Too bad that you've been dealt the cards that you have." He tells me. I just nod and leave the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I breathe out in relief. Seeing him drunk like this reminds me of my childhood. Waking up to find my father passed out at the bottom of the steps, with my mother no where to be found. 

Sure my father was a drunk, but he wasn't abusive. Sometimes he spoke out, but he was a silent drunk. I often wondered why he drank the way that he did. The thought of my mother sleeping with everyone in town wasn't new, she did it while we lived in Ireland. She was just more coy with it, she thought it as a game. Which is cold. 

At a time my parents loved each other, but now they are just bitter.