it’s tough love || wesley&cole
When Wesley made the decision to come home, he knew that it meant he’d have to see people more often. He’d be spending time with Sophia -- knowing her she wouldn’t allow him to sulk in his room, -- as well as Alec who would likely see him more often than usual now that they were in the same house. He also counted on seeing Cole more often than usual, though he felt like lately he’d been seeing him quite a bit. Oddly enough, no one had seemed to pick up on his brother’s newly found bad habits, or newly found from a few years earlier. It seemed strange to Wesley that though he was the least close to his brother from anyone else around them, he seemed to be the only one to notice that Cole was struggling with something.
Nothing ever stirred Wesley’s love for his brother. Cole could scream at him, throw things at him, even hit him, but Wesley could never find it in him to leave his side. The last thing that his brother deserved was one more abandonment. Their father had walked out without a word, and it almost seemed as if even their mother couldn’t quite look at him like she used to. But Wesley was fairly certain that even if his brother committed some heinous crime, he’d still help cover his tracks.
It never became less concerning when Cole wouldn’t answer his phone calls. He never tried to pester his brother, but sometimes when he only called to check up and the ringing went to voicemail, he couldn’t help but assume the worst. That his brother had maybe passed out somewhere, left by himself. No one could take care of Cole like Wesley did, because to Wes it seemed that at the moment he was the only one who cared to notice. “Cole, for Christ’s sake pick up your damn phone,” Wesley muttered into the voice message. But he knew well enough that his brother wouldn’t, or maybe he’d only get a single text back, a rarity. But he’d have to go find him and pick him up, as always.
The town was covered in a sheet of darkness as Wesley’s hands clenched the steering wheel of his old truck, navigating the streets that he knew like the back of his hand. Before long, in the small town that it was, he came across a dark figure walking down the street, or rather stumbling. Wesley pulled his truck to a stop along the curb, exiting the vehicle with what could only be the look of a worried brother. “Cole,” he called to his clearly intoxicated brother. “Cole, get in the truck. Let’s go home.”
