Tweaker

ix. a week

ix. a week

     "WHERE IS HE?"

     "Sleeping."

     "I'm going to go pack his things," he said.

     "Leave him be," I snapped.

     "He needs to go to rehab, Greyson."

     "Fuck off," I yelled, throwing my hands up and spinning around to face Finn's mother and father. They were both standing in my kitchen as I washed the dishes from mine and Preston's dinner earlier. He was in the spare bedroom now, with Benji, who'd begged him to come over to see Finn and reminisce. Preston had gotten a phone call not too long after he arrived here at one in the afternoon, telling him that Finn was being forced into rehab for his addiction.

     "We'll forcibly take him, if we have to," his mother announced.

     "We can legally do that," his father added, snapping at me while he spoke. This only managed to upset me more and I ground my teeth together while closing my eyes before snapping my head up and practically growling at them with my words. They seemed displeased, but what did I care? They were in my house, making demands to take my best friend.

     "I didn't invite you in," I said, now reaching the top of the angry pot boiling within, "And so, legally I could shoot you both, if I had a gun. But I won't do that, you see? Because Finn needs me more than he's ever going to need you. So, if you don't mind, I would appreciate you getting the fuck off my parent's property and staying the fuck out of my way."

     "Greyson," Finn's father interjected.

     "William," I snapped back.

     "I respect you, okay? That's why I need you to go along with this. He needs this so he can get better. You, of all the people he knows, should be willing to let him go to rehab. I'm sure you know we know about your . . . you know," he said, ignoring the fact that I called him by his full name.

     "Get better?" I snapped, surprised at my own tone, "You're going to preach to me about getting better?"

     "No, Greyson. Look, I-"

     "No, you look!" I yelled, getting in his and his wife's face, "For two years I've been around and I've meant something to Finn; and I mean actually meant something. For three years Preston, Finn and I have been closer than shit, even if Preston took off for awhile. And for seventeen years you haven't once give a single fuck about what happened with or to Finn, so what the Hell are you starting to care now, for? Is it because you've figured out a way to get some sort of benefits for his addiction? Is it a disease to you? Do you think that he's just going to start caring about you for the last month that he's seventeen and then you three will be all buddy buddy for the rest of his life?"

     "News flash: this isn't the Fintry parents show. This is about Finn and the people that genuinely love Finn. So, maybe you should do as I ask before I go dig out my father's shotgun and blow you all to pieces. Capiche?"

     "Greys-"

     "Get out of my fucking house!"

     They stood there a little while longer before Preston came downstairs and ushered them out the back door. They hadn't even had the decency to call ahead of time or to park in the front of the house. They wouldn't come through the front door; only the back. I couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into them since I last saw either one because Finn's dad hadn't cared when I first showed up at the house to clean out his bedroom or to pack his things. In fact, he had willingly let me take Finn's things to my house and keep Finn with the stuff. It didn't make sense and then I realized it was all Finn's mother; she had always been the controlling one. Finn defied her more than he rebelled against any rule and that was saying something. They had never gotten along and they never would.