the twink in black tights - hank x connor

What Could Have Been So Nice

SUMMARY: Hank gets home and finds an old USB in his closet.

Hank arrived home, still in a good mood as he was when he left the yoga lessons. He greeted Sumo when he opened the front door and gave the dog attention, scratching behind Sumo's ears like he knew the big lump loved. Sumo flopped on his side. Hank rolled his eyes, knowing what the stupid dog wanted and rubbed the fluffy underside of the dog. He gave Sumo's belly a farewell pat as he got up to get something to eat.

Hank spent at least a couple of minutes staring into the refrigerator and eventually decided on leftover potato salad. He put some of it in a bowl before closing the container back up and putting it back into the refrigerator. He sat at his table and ate, ignoring the begging dog. The lump wasn't hungry. He knew that for a fact. After all, he had just watched Sumo eat what was probably about half of the dog food in his dish. He finished and rinsed out the bowl in the sink. He leaned against the counter and observed his surroundings.

The scenery definitely changed. He still had Christmas decorations he had put in his own house. He looked around and his eyes rested on the Christmas tree. He hadn't put up the decorations that Cole created, knowing how much it'd hurt to see those every day. They'd stayed in the box among more of Cole's creations. He realized he was missing something, but he couldn't figure out what it was, and that led him to the closet he had at the end of his hallway. He opened the closet door and sifted through old papers and even some family photos. Hank found the box filled with Christmas decorations. He dug through the box until he found what he now realized he'd been looking for. It was a handmade angel, crocheted together by his ex-wife. He stared at it wistfully in his palm for a moment before he set down the box of decorations onto a pile of more boxes, and before he had the chance to even slide close his closet door, the pile of boxes caved in on each other, with an outcome of a number of items falling out of them. Hank groaned and dropped to his knees to gather the things before Sumo ran in to start eating anything.

Hank was mostly gathering things in handfuls and shoving them in boxes, deciding to go through them later. But something stood out, a small USB. He stared at it for a moment and picked it up and put it into his pocket. He knew it was probably old, he couldn't remember the last time he'd put something on a USB, and he had no idea what box it fell out of. He picked up all the small things and situated the boxes in his closet so this time, they wouldn't fall over. Hank got up and winced, his back still aching from the yoga he'd done earlier.

Hank decided he would find out what's on the damn USB, plugging it carefully into his laptop at the table and waiting for it to download. He was sure it was some home family video he made back- a long time ago. It took a second for it to install, and he honest-to-god had no idea what could be on it. He knew he and his ex-wife had made some home videos back in their prime, and he knew he was too sober to watch that. He got up out of the chair and exhaled, heading to the kitchen to get his bottle out of Black Lamb scotch whiskey. He knew he'd been smart to keep the one bottle.

The video downloaded, there was no title, only a date. 12/25/32. Hank swallowed hard as he started it.

It was Cole's third Christmas. Hank thought that it would be a great idea to document Cole's first steps, and him trying new foods, and his first teeth growing in, his first time coming home. Just the early stages of Cole's life, knowing it would be great for once Cole was older, he could sit down with his own family and watch. Hank let out a sharp breath, shaking and squeezing the neck of his bottle as tears pricked his eyes.

Cole never did get to see these videos. Cole never got to be older.

Instead of ripping the USB right out of the computer, Hank sat there, hopelessly watching Cole, a small three-year-old, play with the new toy trucks that Hank had bought him for Christmas that year. Hank could feel his heart sink into his stomach and he swallowed thickly. Cole was smiling and sitting between his mother's legs. The toddler was giggling as he smashed the trucks into each other playfully and Mary's laugh could be heard, though she wasn't entirely in the frame, Hank could remember her face painfully well. Mary was very beautiful, Hank had always thought that. Past Hank readjusted the camera to get both of them in the shot. Mary smiled and laughed along with her son, and looked up into the camera. At Past Hank, Hank assumed.

Hank had already been taking long swigs from the bottle, so was certainly intoxicated, to say the least. Hank's mind was racing despite the fuzzy warmth from the alcohol. His mind traveled to darker places, remembering things that- if Hank were sober- he would have never wanted to think about again. He remembered painfully, not just the accident, but the aftermath. The way Mary had looked at him with such betrayal and grief in her eyes. The unspoken words that were between them, that Hank had fucked up. And then he was back there.

The car sliding on the ice, the car flipping over.

Cole screaming at the top of his lungs, his tiny lungs, crashing of glass and steel.

The ambulance, the surgeon, the rage, the-

Before Hank knew it, he already had his revolver in his left hand, His mostly empty-whiskey bottle in his right. And on the table laid his phone, on speaker, calling someone really important to him. Someone he really, really should not call in this state, and someone Hank would never want to see when he was drunk.