Day Two - AFTG Advent Calendar - Angst Edition - @allforthebingo unhealthy coping mechanism - overworking themselves - somethings never die || "you were just a child."
Rating: T Ships/Characters: Kevin Day TWs: Alcoholism
“Dammit,” Kevin spat under his breath as he passed his racquet to his right hand. He used his teeth to tear at the velcro of his left glove, pulling it loose from his hand. He flexed his fingers, making a fist and extending the digits over and over again as he tried to lessen the pain. It had become a chronic problem due to Kevin’s resistance to taking the proper time to heal when he had first made his way to Palmetto; he paid the price for it every time he played, now, even if he never let the others see it. The way he looked at the scars which marred the back of his hand was full of hatred and anger that had never died.
It wasn’t Riko he was angry at, not really. He was pissed at himself for not being good enough to overcome the obstacle. This should never have beaten him the way that it had. His resentment over that fact continued to fester like an open wound. It was why he spent every night on the court, working himself to the bone to claw his way back to his former glory. He was the son of Exy, of Kayleigh Day. Being anything other than the best was completely unacceptable.
He wasn’t sure how long ago Neil and Andrew had slunk off to the locker room together, and he wasn’t nearly stupid enough to go looking for them, even if he was ready to call it a night. Instead, he made his way off of the court and deposited his stick, gloves, and helmet in the common area between the locker rooms. Getting to the offices was an easy task, and Wymack had even left the door to his office unlocked; he really shouldn’t be so trusting.
Kevin rifled through the lower right-hand drawer of Wymack’s desk, pushing away files in their disarray until he found what he was looking for. His fingertips brushed glass, and he withdrew a bottle of whiskey with his hand gripping the thin neck. He sat down in the office chair and wrenched the screw-cap off of the bottle before putting it to his lips.
The amber liquid burned its way down his throat in a way that brought him a sense of comfort, and he gulped down as much of it as he could as quickly as possible. When he pulled the liquor bottle away, it was only to draw in a much-needed breath of air.
Kevin looked at the bottle in his hand, noticing that he’d downed enough of it that Wymack would surely notice that someone had been in here. It was too much for the coach to gaslight himself into thinking he’d drank it himself without knowing. The right thing to do, the moral thing, would have been for Kevin to put the alcohol back in his drawer, apologize, and offer to buy another bottle.
Kevin chose to empty the bottle down his throat, instead.
Shamelessly, he dropped the bottle and cap into the trash can by Wymack’s desk. His head had already begun to spin with a heady sense of warmth. He leaned his back into the office chair and shut his eyes. Andrew and Neil would track him down eventually. For now, he was physically safe and well on his way to drunk. It was the closest thing to happiness that Kevin had felt in a long, long time.