» I'll stand by you through it all., ethan schwarz. <3

and soon you'll lose the will to careHer mother was a fucking lesbian. Why had she waited so long to come out with it? The young woman's mind was reeling with the new information, and she found herself glancing toward her father, trying to make sure his head was at the right place. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly lifted a hand to wipe it away. "Mom, pack your shit and get the fuck out." She finally found the strength to say, her soft words surprisingly devoid of all emotion. A part of her wanted to lunge across the room and gauge the woman's eyes out for hurting her father, unintentional as it may have been.Instinctively, she moved closer to her father, practically perching atop his lap. None of this made sense to her. Everything had been flowing so smoothly, so perfectly. It taught her one thing, if nothing else. Never trust your heart. It brought heartache and a mix of other emotions that were equally unpleasant, if not more so. Her blue hair fell around her face, and she exhaled noisily, pinching the bridge of her nose.Only when the door closed and her mother was gone did she finally find the strength to move away from her father. He was her lifeline, and she assumed that she was probably his as well. It was like the blind leading the blind. "Well, that blew." She mumbled, rising slowly and dusting off her pants, turning to glance toward the older man. Perhaps, there had been a good reason that she had been closer to him than to her mother. Now, she had a damned good reason.If she had her way, she'd never speak to the bitch again. "Do you want a beer? You can protest as much as you like, dad, but I'm having one. I think after that..." She paused, gesturing around the two of them. "We could both use one." She concluded with a weak chuckle, tugging her phone from her pocket.If all else failed, she had to be strong for the both of them. "Do you want to order takeout or something? If not, I could probably whip up something in the kitchen." She offered with a sigh, lifting her free hand to rub the back of her neck. Already, she felt numb as could be. She had never been one that had been particularly fond of emotion. For her, everything had a logical explanation and if it didn't, she just hadn't looked hard enough.Her breakdown would probably come later when nobody was around to see it. She never showed what she really felt. To the world, she just seemed like a heartless, emotionless bitch that was only out for one person: herself. It wasn't true, but she would let people assume what they would. They always did, anyways. Even though she didn't show it, she was always worried about her father. She had been the daughter that always rebelled but secretly looked out for the man.She had always done her best to ensure that his life was as stress free as possible and that almost everything ran smoothly for him. She had grown up fairly quickly, and she didn't regret it. She was a daddy's girl at heart and still had the teddy bear that he had given her when she was two. Naturally, she did her best to hide it from the world and all of its inhabitants, including her father. If you could read between the lines, however, it was usually fairly obvious, no matter how well she hid it. "So, how was work, papa?" She queried, running her fingers through her hair as she tilted her head and surveyed him carefully, looking for any sign that she might need to be more worried than she already was.TAGGED: ETHAN WORDS: 636 OUTFIT: CLICKTHIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY WILMETTA OF CAUTION.

Ethan sat idly on the armchair in the corner of the living room, half staring at his shoes, and half watching the scene playing out in front of him. There was a lot of yelling. Mean, unforgivable lines being thrown back and forth on the fly. Like the other person didn't care one bit about the other. His simple male mind tuned most of it out, choosing not to get involved. And so, he stared at his shoes, at each little scuff on his black bluchers.

He could have told Miri to lighten up, and he probably should have. So, she was a lesbian, and moving permanently to San Francisco, that they would talk about the divorce when they both had calmed down. It was better that she had come out and told him while they were still relatively young, rather than waiting until one of them was on their death bed. Or not at all. Sure, Ethan felt incredibly stupid, shocked, and really, really insecure, but he wasn't going to hate the woman for something she had no control over. She hadn't cheated on him, with a man at least, as far as he was concerned, and she seemed apologetic enough for putting him and their daughter through the whole ordeal. She was gay, and Ethan couldn't do anything about it. Getting mad would be a waste of time and energy.

Plus, Miri seemed to have enough anger to last the both of them for years.

He just wished he could have seen it coming. He held his chin between his thumb and forefinger as if he were deep in thought, when he was really just staring at his shoes, trying to avoid depressing thoughts all together. It didn't work. The door slammed shut and he didn't flinch, but the noise had brought him crashing back down to planet Earth. Had she said anything to him before leaving? Where was Miri? Oh, she was sitting right there, on the arm of the chair. He inhaled deeply and forced himself to look at her for a moment, to tear his eyes away from the comfort of his shoelaces. "Yeah, blew my eardrums out," he said, forcing himself to smile, or at least unclench his teeth, as if the situation hadn't made him extremely uncomfortable. His lame jokes never helped, but they did help to ease his mind a bit, if only for a short while.

Part of him felt as though he needed to thank her for defending him or whatever she was doing, but he knew that wouldn't be right. That was still her mother that she was screaming at, the person who had given birth to her, and had he not been paralyzed by dejection he would have intervened. He couldn't condone that behavior, even if he felt like screaming too.

He was relieved when she changed the subject. He didn't like her drinking, but he'd rather she do it in the house than out with seedy guys she didn't know. Plus, there was no arguing with her, especially not in a moment like this. She was going to drink regardless of how many times he told her not to drink when she was stressed, so he might as well join her. "Please."

She asked what he wanted to do for food. "I don't have much of an appetite right now." It was probably obvious. If the living room wasn't so dimly lit, she probably could have seen how pale he was. He didn't fare very well during familial blow outs, and this one was the biggest he had every experienced. If he was being honest, all he wanted was a fat joint and his record collection. Still, he didn't want to worry her. He fished his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed a twenty onto the table situated between them. "Order something, whatever you want, and I'll eat later. Promise."

He leaned back into the chair and focused on the ceiling now, stretching his legs out in front of him in a reclining position. Now that most of the tension was subsiding, or rather, now that the source of the tension had stormed out the front door and peeled out of the driveway, he could relax. He could breathe. "Work was... Nothing, compared to this." To say the least. "You're really upset, aren't you?"

Ethan sat idly on the armchair in the corner of the living room, half staring at his shoes, and half watching the scene playing out in front of him. There was a lot of yelling. Mean, unforgivable lines being thrown back and forth on the fly. Like the other person didn't care one bit about the other. His simple male mind tuned most of it out, choosing not to get involved. And so, he stared at his shoes, at each little scuff on his black bluchers.

He could have told Miri to lighten up, and he probably should have. So, she was a lesbian, and moving permanently to San Francisco, that they would talk about the divorce when they both had calmed down. It was better that she had come out and told him while they were still relatively young, rather than waiting until one of them was on their death bed. Or not at all. Sure, Ethan felt incredibly stupid, shocked, and really, really insecure, but he wasn't going to hate the woman for something she had no control over. She hadn't cheated on him, with a man at least, as far as he was concerned, and she seemed apologetic enough for putting him and their daughter through the whole ordeal. She was gay, and Ethan couldn't do anything about it. Getting mad would be a waste of time and energy.

Plus, Miri seemed to have enough anger to last the both of them for years.

He just wished he could have seen it coming. He held his chin between his thumb and forefinger as if he were deep in thought, when he was really just staring at his shoes, trying to avoid depressing thoughts all together. It didn't work. The door slammed shut and he didn't flinch, but the noise had brought him crashing back down to planet Earth. Had she said anything to him before leaving? Where was Miri? Oh, she was sitting right there, on the arm of the chair. He inhaled deeply and forced himself to look at her for a moment, to tear his eyes away from the comfort of his shoelaces. "Yeah, blew my eardrums out," he said, forcing himself to smile, or at least unclench his teeth, as if the situation hadn't made him extremely uncomfortable. His lame jokes never helped, but they did help to ease his mind a bit, if only for a short while.

Part of him felt as though he needed to thank her for defending him or whatever she was doing, but he knew that wouldn't be right. That was still her mother that she was screaming at, the person who had given birth to her, and had he not been paralyzed by dejection he would have intervened. He couldn't condone that behavior, even if he felt like screaming too.

He was relieved when she changed the subject. He didn't like her drinking, but he'd rather she do it in the house than out with seedy guys she didn't know. Plus, there was no arguing with her, especially not in a moment like this. She was going to drink regardless of how many times he told her not to drink when she was stressed, so he might as well join her. "Please."

She asked what he wanted to do for food. "I don't have much of an appetite right now." It was probably obvious. If the living room wasn't so dimly lit, she probably could have seen how pale he was. He didn't fare very well during familial blow outs, and this one was the biggest he had every experienced. If he was being honest, all he wanted was a fat joint and his record collection. Still, he didn't want to worry her. He fished his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed a twenty onto the table situated between them. "Order something, whatever you want, and I'll eat later. Promise."

He leaned back into the chair and focused on the ceiling now, stretching his legs out in front of him in a reclining position. Now that most of the tension was subsiding, or rather, now that the source of the tension had stormed out the front door and peeled out of the driveway, he could relax. He could breathe. "Work was... Nothing, compared to this." To say the least. "You're really upset, aren't you?"

and soon you'll lose the will to careAll she ever did when somebody brought up her mental state was shrug and try to change the topic. It was something she never discussed, unless she was forced. It was a process like ripping one's teeth out. It was that painful for both parties. The school had suggested therapy for her several times and each time that they had offered to sponsor her, she hadn't shown up for the appointment and if she did, she just sat there and stared at the wall with her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest. "No worse than usual." She said with a noncommittal shrug, drifting toward the kitchen.She pulled the fridge open and snatched two bottles of beer, righting her posture. With a glance at the fridge's contents, she nudged the door closed with her hip and popped the caps off of the bottles by using the edge of the counter. She didn't bring her father's beer to him until hers was about half gone. "Here ya' go, papa." She said quietly, handing the bottle to him. Really, the only reason she had asked about food was to make sure he ate something. The only time she ever ate was when she physically couldn't resist the urge any longer.It was either eat or pass out. Food just wasn't appealing for her until it became a necessity. After another moment, she sank ungracefully to the floor and set her beer bottle beside her, staring blankly at the floor. She still felt numb. It was a feeling that she had mastered over the past, few years. She lifted a hand and fiddled absentmindedly with the Star of David that hung from the slender, silver chain around her neck. She hadn't removed it since she had gotten it about twelve years ago.Even though she felt numb, her thoughts still crashed around in the confines of her mind, colliding violently with one another. She had the sinking feeling that all of this was her fault. Before, when she had first gotten heavy into the darker parts of socialization, she tried to tell herself that it was because the air in the house had shifted. Major shit was going to go down, and she wanted to be numb when it happened. Well, now, the shit had gone down, and her perspective had reversed. She was the cause behind her mother leaving and not just because she had told her to take a hike. She had caused it with her partying, rebellious ways.She withdrew deeper into her shell and let the feelings of self-hatred, guilt, and general depression was over her like a tidal wave, quickly consuming her. While all of this was going down, she hid behind a curtain of blue hair. Why did all of this have to happen? Why did it have to happen to her father of all people? The only good thing that had come of their entire union was her and even that was a shitty theory at best. A hand, which quivered ever so slightly, reached for the beer bottle. She picked it up and brought it once more to her lips, downing the remains of the amber-hued liquid.For the briefest of moments, a refreshing burst of numbness battled the negativity that clawed angrily at the confines of her mind. She wanted to just curl up into the deepest, darkest crevice that she could find and never come out again but first, she had to make sure that her father wasn't going to do something stupid. She wasn't just going to settle for him being simply okay because that was code for being the complete opposite. Her vision blurred as hot tears stung at her eyes. None of this boded well with her and trying to hide it from the older man was never an easy task, especially with the state of mind she was in. She blinked rapidly, attempting to dispel the urge and when all else failed, she scrambled to her feet and made a dash for the bathroom. The door closed behind her, and the sink ran as she splashed water on her face.She removed a small baggie from the pocket of her skinny jeans, opened it, and removed two pills. They were just what she needed: one antidepressant and one antipsychotic. The pills went down smoothly like a familiar friend and where she had gotten them, she'd never tell. She certainly hadn't done anything drastic like rob a pharmacy. All she had done was bought them off a friend who had once had a prescription for the two pills. Shaking her head, she stuffed the empty baggie back into her pocket and turned off the water. Now, she felt like she could face her father again or at least, face him without having a breakdown of some degree.She opened the door and returned to the living room, calling the pizza place. She ordered two large pizzas with extra cheese, a dozen wings that could be classified as spicy, blue cheese, ranch dressing, and a two liter bottle of sprite. She rattled off their address like it was something she was quite used to then begun to fish for her wallet, pulling out two twenties, which she set near the twenty that her father had offered up. Rubbing her eyes, she settled within his lap, resting her head against his shoulder. "Sorry you had to see that. I love you, ab." She said quietly, burrowing against him as she played idly with his fingers, too tired and emotionally drained to do much else.TAGGED: ETHAN WORDS: 932 OUTFIT: CLICKTHIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY WILMETTA OF CAUTION.

Ethan knew that emotional and mental processes weren't his daughter's favorite topic of discussion. She tended to avoid the subject at all costs, and not just with him. He had seen her do it all through her life, with her family, her friends, her classmates... Even him. He tried not to take it personally. After all, it was probably his own fault that he was that way. He was so emotionally expressive and sometimes downright whiney that it probably scared her into bottling up everything she had ever felt, no matter what it was. This was no exception, so asking was probably nothing more than an exercise in futility. But it felt right to ask.

He sat idly, twiddling his thumbs and listening to Miri fumble around in the kitchen. Ideally, he would have told her not to grab that beer -- for herself or for him. Drinking was never the best solution. In fact, Ethan wasn't even a big fan of beer in the first place. Being barely five feet and seven inches tall and a hundred and forty pounds meant he had an extremely low toleration for alcohol. It was his wife - or rather, ex-wife - who drank it. Perhaps the only reason he had agreed to a beer was because it was her beer. Stealing one of her beers without her knowing or probably caring -- that would show her.

"Thank you," he said quietly, setting the beer in his lap and cracking it open as he watched her flop down on the floor beside him, like a golden retriever. She was quiet, and although he appreciated the silence, it concerned him, too. "Just one, ok?" In all honesty he didn't care if she drank one or two more. It wasn't the most pressing issue on his mind at that very moment, and as long as she stayed at home he knew he could trust her. Perhaps it wasn't the best parenting, but he had to choose his battles wisely. As far as he knew, the case of beer in the refrigerator wasn't full, anyway.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her flinching, or twitching, or whatever she was doing. He wasn't worried. She had never been a stationary person, not even when she slept. But when she scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room, he was almost tempted to follow her, to see if she was ok. He didn't want her to do anything drastic or impulsive, but he decided, from her lack of explanation, she was just embarrassed about how she was reacting to the blow up between her and her mother. Before he could even uncross his ankles to stand up, he heard the door slam. A door slam. He thought it was the bathroom, but he couldn't be sure.

He'd check on her in five minutes. Was he being selfish? Oh, there was no doubt about that. For all he knew, his daughter could be slicing her wrists, popping various pills, or choking on her own tears, and he was having trouble deciding whether or not it was worth the energy to check on her. It sickened him when he thought about it, how self-involved he could be in times of crisis... So he tried not to think about it.

She came back into the living room and seemed fine, grabbing the phone to call for take out as if nothing had happened. "You're all right?" he asked, wondering if she could even hear him, or if she was listening. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you." It felt strange to say. Rehearsed, even. He never really felt the need to say such things, because he figured it was a given. Him and Miri were close, and it was a relationship he was rather proud of. Of course he was there for her, no matter what happened. Maybe she needed to hear it more often.

She sat on his lap and he set his beer on the side table so that he could return the hug, however awkward the position. "I want you to talk to me, not keep running away like that, ok?" He spoke calmly, so he didn't sound like was accusing her of anything wrong. People coped differently. He got that. He was an attorney and had thus seen all different types of reactions to horrible things. He just wanted her to be open with him.

Ethan knew that emotional and mental processes weren't his daughter's favorite topic of discussion. She tended to avoid the subject at all costs, and not just with him. He had seen her do it all through her life, with her family, her friends, her classmates... Even him. He tried not to take it personally. After all, it was probably his own fault that he was that way. He was so emotionally expressive and sometimes downright whiney that it probably scared her into bottling up everything she had ever felt, no matter what it was. This was no exception, so asking was probably nothing more than an exercise in futility. But it felt right to ask.

He sat idly, twiddling his thumbs and listening to Miri fumble around in the kitchen. Ideally, he would have told her not to grab that beer -- for herself or for him. Drinking was never the best solution. In fact, Ethan wasn't even a big fan of beer in the first place. Being barely five feet and seven inches tall and a hundred and forty pounds meant he had an extremely low toleration for alcohol. It was his wife - or rather, ex-wife - who drank it. Perhaps the only reason he had agreed to a beer was because it was her beer. Stealing one of her beers without her knowing or probably caring -- that would show her.

"Thank you," he said quietly, setting the beer in his lap and cracking it open as he watched her flop down on the floor beside him, like a golden retriever. She was quiet, and although he appreciated the silence, it concerned him, too. "Just one, ok?" In all honesty he didn't care if she drank one or two more. It wasn't the most pressing issue on his mind at that very moment, and as long as she stayed at home he knew he could trust her. Perhaps it wasn't the best parenting, but he had to choose his battles wisely. As far as he knew, the case of beer in the refrigerator wasn't full, anyway.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her flinching, or twitching, or whatever she was doing. He wasn't worried. She had never been a stationary person, not even when she slept. But when she scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room, he was almost tempted to follow her, to see if she was ok. He didn't want her to do anything drastic or impulsive, but he decided, from her lack of explanation, she was just embarrassed about how she was reacting to the blow up between her and her mother. Before he could even uncross his ankles to stand up, he heard the door slam. A door slam. He thought it was the bathroom, but he couldn't be sure.

He'd check on her in five minutes. Was he being selfish? Oh, there was no doubt about that. For all he knew, his daughter could be slicing her wrists, popping various pills, or choking on her own tears, and he was having trouble deciding whether or not it was worth the energy to check on her. It sickened him when he thought about it, how self-involved he could be in times of crisis... So he tried not to think about it.

She came back into the living room and seemed fine, grabbing the phone to call for take out as if nothing had happened. "You're all right?" he asked, wondering if she could even hear him, or if she was listening. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you." It felt strange to say. Rehearsed, even. He never really felt the need to say such things, because he figured it was a given. Him and Miri were close, and it was a relationship he was rather proud of. Of course he was there for her, no matter what happened. Maybe she needed to hear it more often.

She sat on his lap and he set his beer on the side table so that he could return the hug, however awkward the position. "I want you to talk to me, not keep running away like that, ok?" He spoke calmly, so he didn't sound like was accusing her of anything wrong. People coped differently. He got that. He was an attorney and had thus seen all different types of reactions to horrible things. He just wanted her to be open with him.

and soon you'll lose the will to careShe was silent for a long while then after a few moments, she rose slowly. It was mechanical, forced. It was almost like she didn't have the strength or the want to move on her own anymore. "I know." She said quietly, her voice void of emotion. When she had said what was presumably her peace, she drifted toward her room and knelt down, tugging a small book from beneath her bed. She wanted to destroy all traces of the woman that had given birth to her, even if that meant shredding paper memories that she could never regain.If it hadn't been for the risk involved, she probably would have torn them up and let them burn in the trash can. She cradled the book against her chest and sat down in front of her father's chair, her head bowed while dark, blue strands of hair fell before her pallid features. "You and I, we'll make new memories and move past this, ab...almost like it never happened." She opened the book slowly, revealing the glossed photos that were protected with a thin sheet of plastic. She exhaled quietly and rifled through the book, pulling out all of the photos that had her mother. "We can do that because we're strong and no matter what, we'll have each other...even when it seems we're worlds apart." Lifting her head, she gave him a sad smile that was rather fleeting, even for her.Her fingers quivered as she slowly tore the photos apart, careful to only remove as much of her mother as she could without destroying the rest of the photo. The soft sound of the paper tearing and the mere sight of the destruction seemed to calm the poor girl. "You probably think I hate you and all that because you're not afraid to show your emotions, right? You probably even blame yourself for the way that I am, right?" She glanced toward him and blinked, tilting her head. "Truth is, I couldn't ever hate you." She paused, lifting her hand to his knee to give him a gentle, reassuring squeeze.Biting the inside of her cheek, she finished up with her task and temporarily left to retrieve the stuffed bear that was always seemed to be close by. "Ever since...ever since I was two, I've had this bear." She set the bear in his lap and sat down once more in the spot she had been in only moments before. She wasn't used to displaying emotion or even having heartfelt talks so by default, she really wasn't great at doing the entire task, but she was trying her best. She took a moment to regain her composure then squared her small shoulders and released a heavy sigh. "Ever since you gave me that bear, it's gone by the name Papa Bear." Her lower lip quivered, and there was the urge to cry, the very urge that she tried to control, which was proving to be quite the difficult task.Glancing down at the torn pile of pictures, she fell silent for a few moments. "It wasn't to mock you, that I can promise you. It was my way of keeping you close, just as the necklace that I've never removed in twelve years is my way of keeping our heritage close to my heart and always on my mind. Sure, we might get annoyed at each other or something but in the end, we're family. Time and time again, we've been a perfect example of how we're better together than when we're apart." She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted the iron tang of blood. It was the one thing that had the ability to bring her back to her senses when all else failed.Right about then, she needed every bit of sense that she could get. "I don't show emotion because it's not logical but just because I never open up to anybody, it doesn't mean that I'm not happy. You've done everything you can think of to help keep me happy, even when everything around you is falling apart. I'm not blind, I see these things and believe it or not, I appreciate them. I've always been your little girl, and that won't change." She cleared her throat to hide the sniffle that she knew was coming. A single tear drifted unseen down her cheek, going unnoticed until it hit the torn, glossy memories laid out before her.She glanced toward him and sighed, wiping her eyes. "I want to become a lawyer because of you. Ever since I was little, I wanted to follow in your footsteps. Before I was in school, I had it right down to the minute when you'd be walking through that door. After I turned twelve, I tidied up your things so you would be prepared and wouldn't have to stress out over a fucked up agenda or a messy briefcase." She shrugged and looked toward the wall. On a normal occasion, she probably would have been rather stoic, but she couldn't find it in herself to let the man feel like he was all alone in this mess.Her happy bubble had burst, and she'd evicted her mother. Her uncertain thoughts swirled around in her head for a few moments, and she sighed quietly. "Now, you've finally gotten a glimpse into my head." Just as she stopped speaking, the doorbell rang. Snatching the money from the table, she retrieved the pizza then returned toward him, setting out their meal on the coffee table. "Dinner is served, and I would suggest eating before it gets cold." She gave a weak chuckle and opened one of the pizza boxes, letting the comforting smell of greasy food waft through the room. TAGGED: ETHAN WORDS: 955 OUTFIT: CLICKTHIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY WILMETTA OF CAUTION.

Ethan didn't do well with drama. Sure, he liked to wallow in sadness and complain and bitch and moan, but he was sure to keep a sense of humor about the whole thing. Once the initial shock of his wife leaving wore off, he'd laugh about this whole situation. Haha. I'm so sexually unappealing that I turned my wife gay. Haha. Just like that. He was now a stereotype, and that was kind of funny. It was a morbid and dark and unsettling when one really thought about it but that's how he functioned. Without that element of humor, he would have only had despair, and he would have shot himself in the head a long, long time ago.

But Miri wasn't the same. When something went wrong, she reacted in ways that Ethan couldn't understand. Sometimes he attributed it to her being a teenage girl, and therefore a drama queen. She'd overreact, at least by his standards. The whole "get the fuck out" thing was a little much, if you asked him. But maybe he was just underreacting. He wasn't sure what the social protocol was for reacting to one's wife leaving, but sitting there motionless in the dark seemed like the only thing he wanted to do at the moment.

Either way, he sat there, once again, only half interested in where his daughter had run off too. This time, judging from the sound of the door, she was in her bedroom. She didn't slam it, so he figured she was coming back. When she did, he saw that she had two things in her hands -- a photo album, and a stuffed bear. He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she was up to. "Not at all. You got my back. I know you don't hate me." Out of all the people in the world, Miri was the only person he knew didn't hate him.

She set the bear on his lap and he looked at it. It made him smile, because when he bought her the bear he hadn't expected her to love it so much. She and that bear were inseparable. Still, he wasn't sure how to respond other than smile. She was his daughter, so "doing everything he could think of to keep her happy" wasn't much of a feat. It was in the job description. A thank you wasn't necessary, and he wasn't sure how to respond when she kept on going. So he just nodded.

He wasn't sure, but it sounded like she was on the verge of tears, which alarmed him. She never cried. Neither did he. They just weren't a crying family. "That's nice. I'm flattered." Fortunately, he had some pictures of the three of them that she didn't know about, so the photo album thing didn't upset him too much. It was still hard to watch.

She brought the pizza into the living room and set it on the coffee table, all but ordering him to eat. He didn't want to, but he would, to let her know that he was just fine and she didn't need to worry. He grabbed a piece and sipped at his beer, wondering what was appropriate to say after she had just spilled her guts to him. He hadn't actually expected her to, so he didn't know what to say. "I wish you wouldn't have ripped those pictures. You'll forgive her, you know. It probably doesn't feel like you will, but you will." And so would he.

---

sorry this is so... bad. D:

Ethan didn't do well with drama. Sure, he liked to wallow in sadness and complain and bitch and moan, but he was sure to keep a sense of humor about the whole thing. Once the initial shock of his wife leaving wore off, he'd laugh about this whole situation. Haha. I'm so sexually unappealing that I turned my wife gay. Haha. Just like that. He was now a stereotype, and that was kind of funny. It was a morbid and dark and unsettling when one really thought about it but that's how he functioned. Without that element of humor, he would have only had despair, and he would have shot himself in the head a long, long time ago.

But Miri wasn't the same. When something went wrong, she reacted in ways that Ethan couldn't understand. Sometimes he attributed it to her being a teenage girl, and therefore a drama queen. She'd overreact, at least by his standards. The whole "get the fuck out" thing was a little much, if you asked him. But maybe he was just underreacting. He wasn't sure what the social protocol was for reacting to one's wife leaving, but sitting there motionless in the dark seemed like the only thing he wanted to do at the moment.

Either way, he sat there, once again, only half interested in where his daughter had run off too. This time, judging from the sound of the door, she was in her bedroom. She didn't slam it, so he figured she was coming back. When she did, he saw that she had two things in her hands -- a photo album, and a stuffed bear. He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she was up to. "Not at all. You got my back. I know you don't hate me." Out of all the people in the world, Miri was the only person he knew didn't hate him.

She set the bear on his lap and he looked at it. It made him smile, because when he bought her the bear he hadn't expected her to love it so much. She and that bear were inseparable. Still, he wasn't sure how to respond other than smile. She was his daughter, so "doing everything he could think of to keep her happy" wasn't much of a feat. It was in the job description. A thank you wasn't necessary, and he wasn't sure how to respond when she kept on going. So he just nodded.

He wasn't sure, but it sounded like she was on the verge of tears, which alarmed him. She never cried. Neither did he. They just weren't a crying family. "That's nice. I'm flattered." Fortunately, he had some pictures of the three of them that she didn't know about, so the photo album thing didn't upset him too much. It was still hard to watch.

She brought the pizza into the living room and set it on the coffee table, all but ordering him to eat. He didn't want to, but he would, to let her know that he was just fine and she didn't need to worry. He grabbed a piece and sipped at his beer, wondering what was appropriate to say after she had just spilled her guts to him. He hadn't actually expected her to, so he didn't know what to say. "I wish you wouldn't have ripped those pictures. You'll forgive her, you know. It probably doesn't feel like you will, but you will." And so would he.

---

sorry this is so... bad. D:

and soon you'll lose the will to careAfter giving that long-winded speech and practically bullying her father into eating, she quickly found that her appetite had been lost. Scrunching her nose, she got up again and went to the kitchen, jerking open the fridge as she pulled out another beer and a couple of celery sticks. Returning to the living room, she sat down and crunched on her celery stick, allowing her mind to wander. Knowing the places her mind often visited, it probably wasn't particularly safe but in that moment, she didn't much give a damn. "I'm not forgiving that...that une pute stupide." She retorted boldly in French, uncapping her bottle of beer as she took a sip. It wasn't like the last time.She hadn't just opened it and chugged it. No, this one she was going to savor. "Excuse my French." She said after a long moment of silence, wincing only briefly. Her elbow hit the coffee table, and she leaned back, squinting up at the ceiling. "By the way, you don't have to sneak down to your basement anymore...with her being gone and all, I mean." She mused, flopping onto her back with beer in one hand and celery stick in the other.Her thoughts drifted toward the day she had snooped around the house, trying to find something to cure her boredom, even if it meant going into the one place that she had been cautioned against. "The stash is pretty nifty down there, dad. Didn't know you had it in you but then again, the shit down there might be why you always seem so quiet and calm. Good to know the seventies extends further than the interior decorating you chose for the house." She teased, glancing toward him from the corner of her eye. "Actually.." She hesitated and bit the inside of her cheek, closing her eyes.After another moment or so, she got up and retreated to her room once more, only to return with a small bottle of prescription pills. "You have your dirty secret, and I have mine. The reason I'm always so...detached...is because of these." She tossed the bottle into his lap and shrugged. She collected her thoughts and eased back onto the floor, taking a seat. "It's nothing dangerous or illegal, outside of the fact that they weren't prescribed for me." She shrugged and looked down at her hands.Why she was telling him this, she had no clue. Maybe it was just because he had a right to know, considering he was her father and not to mention, she had already blasted the fact that he partook in recreational drugs so he might as well also find out the other things that went around in her pretty, little head. "I started taking the pills a few months ago. It's...they make things clearer for me, and I'm not as likely to haul off and punch somebody anymore." She hesitated and drew her legs beneath her, hiding behind her hair. "I might not be a little kid anymore, but I can still sense things that are amiss and about the time I sensed the change in the air at home, I started taking the pills." She gave a limp shrug and curled her quivering fingers around the Star of David that hung from the chain around her neck.She exhaled quietly and shook her head as if to clear it. "Normal people take antipsychotics and antidepressants everyday. It doesn't kill them, doesn't scream they're using drugs and sometimes, it even helps them function. Usually, I'm usually just too numb to care but tonight broke past that comforting haze, which was what you saw when I went off mom then about broke down." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "By the way, I'm not going to school tomorrow so while we sit here, you can ask this open book anything you want, and I'll give you the straightest answer possible, 'kay?" She looked up at him, her face obscured by a curtain of blue hair.TAGGED: ETHAN WORDS: 666 OUTFIT: CLICKTHIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY WILMETTA OF CAUTION.

She said she wasn't forgiving her. Fair enough, Ethan could understand that. He wasn't quite ready to forgive the woman either. His emotional side was still a wreck, quite literally. He was absolutely miserable. But his logical side still couldn't blame her. She was gay, and that was that. Her leaving was the only solution, and he had to live with it.

He was fine just sitting there, letting his daughter get her feelings out, absorbing this new information that he had never heard before or expected to ever hear. It was refreshing to see her so open all of a sudden, until she mentioned his habit. All of a sudden his eyes went wide and he froze. His hallucinogenic drug use wasn't a secret, but it also wasn't a topic he liked to discuss. It wasn't like him, and he had no good reason for doing it other than "it feels good." Maybe if he didn't say anything, she'd move on to another topic.

And then she pulled out a bottle of pills and tossed it onto his lap. He picked it up immediately, inspecting the label to see what she was taking. "What's this?" He could read what it was, but he wanted her to explain herself. When she did, he shook his head. His daughter wasn't going to take pills to feel better. If she tried to pull the "you do the same thing" card, he wouldn't buy it. Because it wasn't the same. Pills did permanent damage, and he refused to have an addict as a daughter. "No, no. You can't take these anymore," he said plainly, as he shoved them into the pocket of his chinos.

She said she was skipping school the next day, and his first instinct was to argue. Education was important to him, but he knew he had to pick his battles with this one. "You can miss one day," he finally said, but not after voicing his disapproval with a heavy sigh. "But no more. The sooner we move on, the sooner we can forget about all of this."

---

short -__-

She said she wasn't forgiving her. Fair enough, Ethan could understand that. He wasn't quite ready to forgive the woman either. His emotional side was still a wreck, quite literally. He was absolutely miserable. But his logical side still couldn't blame her. She was gay, and that was that. Her leaving was the only solution, and he had to live with it.

He was fine just sitting there, letting his daughter get her feelings out, absorbing this new information that he had never heard before or expected to ever hear. It was refreshing to see her so open all of a sudden, until she mentioned his habit. All of a sudden his eyes went wide and he froze. His hallucinogenic drug use wasn't a secret, but it also wasn't a topic he liked to discuss. It wasn't like him, and he had no good reason for doing it other than "it feels good." Maybe if he didn't say anything, she'd move on to another topic.

And then she pulled out a bottle of pills and tossed it onto his lap. He picked it up immediately, inspecting the label to see what she was taking. "What's this?" He could read what it was, but he wanted her to explain herself. When she did, he shook his head. His daughter wasn't going to take pills to feel better. If she tried to pull the "you do the same thing" card, he wouldn't buy it. Because it wasn't the same. Pills did permanent damage, and he refused to have an addict as a daughter. "No, no. You can't take these anymore," he said plainly, as he shoved them into the pocket of his chinos.

She said she was skipping school the next day, and his first instinct was to argue. Education was important to him, but he knew he had to pick his battles with this one. "You can miss one day," he finally said, but not after voicing his disapproval with a heavy sigh. "But no more. The sooner we move on, the sooner we can forget about all of this."

---

short -__-

and soon you'll lose the will to careShe looked like she was about to protest but instead, she pursed her lips. Of course, she couldn't keep those lips of hers pursed forever. "Ab, people take those pills all the time. It helps them lead normal lives. That's what we all want, even if we won't admit it, right?" She wiped her eyes and sniffled softly. She never handled these things well.After another moment or so of just sitting there, she rose on shaky legs. She didn't know what to do or what to think anymore. "Right, one day." She echoed, willing that numbness to return so she felt hollow again. That was about the only time that she really felt well enough to do anything. She loved the feeling that nothing could hurt her. Right now, she felt vulnerable, weak. She hated the feeling with a fiery passion.She squinted at her father and sighed, looking down. "I'm going to bed, ab." She said quietly, finishing off her beer. She cleared away the mess that had been left from their pity party then took her teddy bear, moving toward her room at a shuffling pace. Once there, she closed the door behind her and curled up on the bed. Sleep would be something that wouldn't come to her that night, and she knew it. Preparing herself for the longest night of her life, she buried her face in the bear and sobbed in silence. TAGGED: ETHAN WORDS: 666 OUTFIT: CLICKTHIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY WILMETTA OF CAUTION.