3 am @gaytailgate
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It was at times like this that he needed a drink.

One of the reasons that made drinking so much a reasonable option.

Moments like these in which he realized the truth of everything.

When he looked around and realized where he was.

When he looked at himself in the mirror and saw someone he didn't recognize.

He hated them.

That's why he would drink, glass after glass until none of these things made sense in his mind.

But… there was still warmth inside him caused by them.

As he looked at his bed, the big bed he shared with his husband, he could feel his heart beating fast out of excitement.

On the bed, sleeping, was Dion, the love of his life, his high-school sweetheart that he got to marry even after many problems and bad days.

Next to Dion, in the middle of the bed, was his son…

His son.

HIS son.

A baby, he had made a baby, a little person, a tiny human that couldn't take care of himself at all.

A baby that had his blood, his eyes, his hair.

This was one of the reasons why he started drinking more.

He couldn't take it, it overwhelmed him every time he thought about it, every time he saw those small hands, that small nose, those small eyes, it made him nauseous.

He was a father, he had fathered a son, with Dion no less, was it real? Was he hallucinating? Was the universe playing a sick prank on him?

Every day he wondered if one night he would drink himself to sleep only to wake up in the morning on his old bed at his parent's house, he looks into the mirror and he wouldn't see those worn out eyes but instead, he'll be met by his old face, the face of that teenager he hated so much and he would grab his old cellphone and fo through the gallery and see the pictures he took with Dion in high-school.

And everything would've been a lie, a dream caused by him drinking too much on a Friday night.

The house, the cars, the bed, his son…

They wouldn't be there.

But alas it hadn't happened.

And right now he was too sober, sober enough to feel sad while thinking about it, sad about imagining a life where he isn't married to Dion.

He needed a drink, now!.

Before he started going thru the 7 stages of grief.

Before he ended up on his knees crying about how he didn't deserve this life and ended up waking up Dion and it would just be a pathetic show of his cowardice honestly.

He just never thought this would happen or maybe he just thought it would be easier.

Not the house part or the cars, he knew that would've always been easy to get.

No, Dion, a family, those were supposed to be easy!

He would marry Dion, go to work in the morning, come back before bedtime and they would act like a couple before going to bed and then start again in the morning but no, he felt guilt, he felt remorse, so much he needed to be constantly drunk to overcome it all.

If he was drunk enough he didn't hear Dion asking him to stop.

If he was drunk he couldn't see Dion making faces of disgust.

If he was drunk he wouldn't be able to hear the baby crying at night.

If he was drunk enough he could forget Dion hated him.

At least until the effects of the alcohol wore off.

Then it all became a race against time.

He could see Dion side-eye him on his way to the kitchen to grab another shot.

It was dumb and selfish of him to wish for something like that but sometimes he just wished Dion was ANYONE but himself.

Any brainless guy he used to hook up with, any stupid girl that liked him for his money.

But no, Dion was… he was Dion.

And Dion knew what he wanted and what he wanted was something he wasn't.

And Dion was stubborn, smart, intelligent, talented and sweet and beautiful and loving and caring!

And by the stars he loved it!

He loved Dion with all his heart!

But he was so fucked up from years of not being shown real affection that now he couldn't even say I love you and he hated it, he hated knowing he is fucked up, aware but not aware enough to stop him from being an asshole.

If he could just… open his mouth and say it… maybe things would be different…

Maybe Dion wouldn't hate him so much…

Maybe he wouldn't feel like he was keeping Dion away from somebody right for him… better…

A better lover, a better husband, a better father…

A better father…

His poor son… with a father like him…

He was beautiful.

In his eyes, he looked exactly like Dion.

And it hurt him.

He wanted so bad to hold him close, tell him he would protect him and love him…

Tell him that he is the best thing that happened to him and how grateful he is Dion made him with him.

But he can't.

Because he is a coward.

"Elun?"

Dion's sleepy voice sent a shiver down his spine.

"What are you doing just standing there? Couldn't you hear me calling you?" Dion was looking at him from the bed, resting on his elbows.

He didn't answer.

"Are you coming to bed?" Dion asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Let me put Nix in his crib so you can-"

"Don't!" He cut him short.

"Don't wake him up… I just came to change, I am going out again…"

"Of course… where are you going? The bar? The club?, You know what, I don't want to know, just go, lock the door behind you" Dion laid back on the bed again and closed his eyes pretending to go to sleep again.

Elun stood there for some seconds more, before walking to the closet and changing his clothes, when he was done he walked to the door again, he turned to look at Dion and Nix one last time.

Inside him, he could feel it.

The warmth and need.

"Dion" he started.

"What?" Came Dion's tired voice.

It was on the tip of his tongue and yet…

"I… see you tomorrow…"

Coward.

"Whatever, bye" Dion didn't even open his eyes to see him one last time.

Elun mentally chastised himself before walking out of the bedroom.

He needed a drink desperately.

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