Only Angel [FP Jones x OC]

Thirty One

Seline half expected FP not to be serious about throwing her stuff out, but there it was tossed onto the wet gravel in front of the trailer. 

Half of her clothes were strewn across the ground, the bag overstuffed and her backpack unzipped with her books trailing back to the front door. She took a deep breath, tried to steady herself as she climbed off her bike and bent down to pick up her things. 

She packed her bike with her things then went to the front door to see it wide open. Seline poked her head in then edged inside to find FP facedown on the living room floor, surrounded by half empty beer bottles. 

"It's been two hours," She whispered, tiptoeing over to rest FP on his side. Seline stared at his unconscious face and shook her head. "Why are you doing this?" 

She stood up, choking back more of her emotion as she started to pick up bottles from the floor and throw them away. With her third armful of bottles, Seline heard FP groan to life. 

Peeking into the living room, she quickly ducked at the brown bottle that soared through the air and exploded against the wall behind her. A piece of glass ricocheted and sliced the back of her calf, drawing a thin line of crimson. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Seline raised her voice as she dodged to grab the rest of FP's ammunition. 

"Didn't I tell you to get out? Get out!" FP hissed, slurring his words as his face shaded red. 

Seline kept on with her task, cleaning up the rest of the stray bottles before going for the case of beer in the fridge. 

"Seline, what're you doing? Put that back," he ordered, sitting up as he watched Seline lift the case over her head and drop it. 

Every bottle in the cardboard case shattered, exploded beer across the kitchen linoleum and living room carpet. 

"You bitch," FP said, sitting up further until Seline pressed her boot to his chest and he fell back to the floor. 

She leaned in, stared into FP's eyes, swirling with alcohol on his brain. Seline kneeled over him, caught onto his drunken scent and scoffed. 

"If I told you this was for your own good, would you believe me?" She whispered, watching FP lull himself back to sleep. "I cherish you, Forsythe. Don't drink yourself away." 

Seline sat on the road that led through the suburbs of Riverdale, wondering about where to go. If she was going to get FP to come back around, he'd have to dry himself out. Until then, she was without a place to live. 

The more she sat, the more she thought of Fred letting her stay a couple nights on the couch. There was no way that she would slink back to her sister or mother, not for either of them to tell her that family was more important than her own vendetta. 

A front door opened and Fred stood on his porch, arms crossed, staring at Seline across the street. 

"You gonna come in or are you just gonna sit there?" He asked, his voice raised as an older pooch waddled its way out of the front door. 

Seline looked around her, wondering that there was someone else he was talking about until he called her name. 

"Get inside before it gets dark. Grab your stuff." 

She did as she was told and crossed the street, walking up the sidewalk to Fred's front doorstep. He stepped aside and let her walk past then told her that she could sleep in his room if she wanted to. 

"I'd rather not impose," she said, wringing the strap of her bag as Fred shut the door. 

Fred smiled, his face crinkling in amusement, and leaned in to whisper. "I wanted to keep it a secret, but the couch is really comfortable."