Welcome To The Media (Dylmas AU)

33. The Past

*trigger warning: for those uncomfortable with mxb sex or the suggestion of rape, a summarized version of the chapter will be in my author’s note at the end. stay safe, lovelies

5 years earlier

My hand came down shakily on the wooden door--nervous, despite the fact that I really had no reason to be. It had always just been that way when I visited Elijah's house. As if the worn and weathered paneling along the walls or the overgrown daisies outside their doorsteps were cause to give me unease. My stomach tightened as I waited outside, clutching my messenger bag in clenched hands.

The seconds seemed drawn out as I waited for Elijah's soft footsteps. It was foolish of me to listen for her, though; she always treaded so lightly and carefully and quietly wherever she walked, it was as if she was already a memory. When heavy footfalls reached my ears instead, I immediately shrunk back, away from the door. I knew it wasn't Elijah before the door even swung open.

Elijah's father looked down on me with glassy, unfocused eyes. Other than the bright green of his irises, he and Elijah shared nothing in common. Whereas her expression was always filled with warmth and kindness, her dad greeted everyone with a gruff, iron exterior. He was attractive, for an older gentleman, and had sharp features that seemed threatening in the shadows of dusk. Even from where I stood, the stench of alcohol rolled off of him in waves.

"H-Hello Mr. Burton," I greeted, keeping my voice level and calm. I smiled in the most relaxed way I knew how, despite the tension in my shoulders. "Is Elijah home?"

"She's not," he replied, leaning in the doorway.

"Do you know when she'll be home?"

"No."

"Oh. We uh--we were supposed to hang out..." I cringed at the weakness in my voice.

Mr. Burton leveled me with a long, bored gaze. His eyes flicked up and down along my body, obviously judging the way I had chosen to dress myself. My hands tightened automatically around my bag, and his eyes rose to meet mine again.

I bit my lip. Mr. Burton hadn't replied and as we stood there staring quietly as each other, the awkwardness of the situation seemed to drawn in. After a brief silence, Mr. Burton gestured inside to his house. "Are you planning on loittering on my front stoop while you wait for her, kid? Or do you wanna come inside?"

"Um..." No, I wanted to scream. No, I don't want to come in with you. Why the hell would I want to be in the same room, alone, with an abusive father? My body tensed and braced to flee.

Mr. Burton, oblivious to my discomfort, seemed then to give me a sultry look. He blinked, and the expression melted from his face--but I had seen it, and I unwillingly shifted uncomfortably. He stepped aside, giving me the option of entering, but one look into his eyes and I scurried into the home as if he made the decision for me. His arm came up and rested on my lower back as he guided me inside.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, Thomas," Mr. Burton said. He pushed me in the direction of the couch and I sat, albeit reluctantly. It was hard to ignore the mess that was strewn along the apartment--something I knew was not Elijah's doing. Empty take-out containers and stale beer bottles littered every flat surface in the area, along with the putrid stench of old alcohol.

"About what?" I asked. Without replying, he disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with two beers in hand. I restrained myself from raising an eyebrow as he approached. He offered one of the cans to me and I accepted so as not to seem rude. It was only one beer, afterall.

He sat down across from me on a small, leather ottoman. His gaze was piercing, and I restrained the urge to squirm. Instead I busied myself by sipping quietly at the alcohol in my hand, avoiding his gaze. We sat in silence--since Mr. Burton seemed incapable of continuing the conversation-- and fuck it was awkward, but I had no idea what to say. What can I say to my best friend's abusive dad? Hey, you look nice today, you motherfucker? Elijah's dad made no move to ask me anything either, despite what he had suggested moments before.