coming down, down, coming down // self para
Adam sat down at the bar, sighing as he ordered his seventh drink of the night. This was his fourth bar, however, because he’d leave after a while so people wouldn’t start judging him for how much alcohol he’d consumed because soon he’d loose count
He couldn’t think of another way to escape the crushing realization of what a failure his father was and the fact that he saw no way of changing that cycle.
Even worse than knowing how terrible his own father was, was the knowledge of the very real possibility of his own children feeling this way some day, which was much more painful than himself feeling this way.
He would be a failure of a parent just like his own. It didn’t matter to him that his father hadn’t been quite as superficial as his mother. He still knew about it all, he knew what his mother and Trevor did to Presley and he just accepted it because he loved her so much.
“Bullshit...” Adam grumbled out loud, downing another bottle of Firewhisky because it was the only thing that seemed strong enough to dull the pain.
He thought about Rose and Presley waiting for him at home but the bartender was so close and so easy to order something from.
“Another one for me.” He said, throwing some Sickles on the counter.
He decided that that night he didn’t want to go home because he was too much of a coward to face Rose and Presley in such a state but he feared from the bubbling feelings of guilt, anger, hatred, terror and self pity that his presence at bars like the one he was in would not be a rare occurrence.
He stumbled out of the bar and with a POP he arrived in the home he and Marcus called their Man House (because really, they were too arrogant for a Man Cave) and fell onto the couch. Shortly after his head hit the cushion he was out cold, unbothered by the idea of the horrible headache he’d have tomorrow.
If he were being entirely honest, he’d welcome the pain - because it was at least something other than the emotions he already had within him.
