Author's Note: I think I'm going to end this story soon, even though it's not that long. I have plans for what I want to happen next and how I want to end it, just nothing inbetween. Sorry to those who wanted it to be longer!

Twelve

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Kelsey,” I mutter as she drags me by my arm towards the front door. “You’ve only been here two months. Why don’t we take things slow?”

Kelsey rolls her eyes as she pulls me through the front door. “Tyson is at your neighbour’s, and you haven’t had fun since he was born. Going out one night isn’t going to be that big of a deal.”

Sitting in the cab she called, I lean my head against the window, watching the night pass by us. The past two months have gone by without incident. Tyson looks happy to have his mom in his life, Kelsey is happy to be there, and I just sit around, wondering if my decision was for the best. Kelsey still gets high every so often, but I’d rather have that then her being irritable all the time. Even though that should bug me, something is more.

I don’t know what to classify my relationship with her. She used to be my girlfriend, then just Tyson’s birth mother. However now, I don’t know what she is. We sleep in the same bed, make each other breakfast, and play with Tyson. It’s like we’re playing house every single day.

I didn’t have a problem with any of this until the past few weeks. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, with Kelsey snuggled into my chest and my arms around her, however, as strange as it felt, I never did anything about it.

“Were here,” chirps Kelsey, climbing out of the cab. I pay the driver and trudge out of the car, hoping Kelsey will finally tell me where we’re going. “It’s just a block away.” She grabs my arm and starts to drag me down the dimly lit sidewalk, passing the few people out at this time of night. When I see the line of people a few minutes later, I automatically know where we’re going and mentally scold myself for letting Kelsey drag me here.

“We should be home with Tyson,” I complain, as we get a place in line.

“We won’t be here long, I promise.” She flashes me a grin and somewhere, underneath all the bitterness, I see the old Kelsey; the good Kelsey.

It takes ten minutes to get to the doors of the small concert hall. Inside, it’s exactly as I imagined it. Loud music blares through the speakers near the front of the small, makeshift stage where a band is setting up. A bar is situated in the left side, where a lot of people are consuming alcohol and on the right are a few taken booths, excluding one which Kelsey pulls me to.

“Want something to drink?” She asks over the sound of the band testing their instruments. I open my mouth to protest but she cuts me off. “It’s not like we’re driving home anyways.” She gently touches my hand before climbing out of the booth and heading to the bar.

A few hours later, give or take, I’m having trouble paying attention to the band or anything, for that matter. Kelsey has been fetching me drinks every single time mine has eventually gone empty and I haven’t realized it until I’m now, that I’m completely wasted.

“Another drink, Fallon?” She smiles innocently even though my drink is already half full. She starts to get up to head to the bar but I don’t let her. Instead, I grab her hand and yank her down into the booth beside me. “What’s wrong?”

I want to scream at her. What’s wrong is the fact that she’s purposely getting me drunk for reasons that are unknown to me. However knowing Kelsey, there’s always a reason and it’s never a good one, at least on my part.

“W-what are y-you doing?” I slur, barely understanding the words that are coming out of my mouth. It’s ridiculous how frustrating it is to be able to think something but not be able to say it clearly.

“What are you talking about, honey?”

The word ‘honey’ sends me flying back to earlier days that I don’t want to remember right now. If I remember, I’ll be thrown back into that world and its lifestyle and Tyson doesn’t need that right now.

“Why d-did you g-get me drunk?”

She bats her eyelashes like everything is perfectly fine. Slowly, she takes my hand in hers and intertwines our fingers, holding my hand tightly. The small, barely there, sober part of me, tells me to rip my hand away from Kelsey’s and get the hell out of here. However the drunken part just wants things to go back to normal, even if normal was full of drugs, alcohol and bad decisions.

“I knew if you were sober you wouldn’t give us a chance,” she whispers, looking at me sincerely. “And I want us to try, Fallon. I want to be together again.” When I don’t respond, she leans her head down on my shoulder and watches the band on stage.

As the night starts to grow later, I think deeply about what Kelsey said. Or, as deeply as someone completely smashed can think. I want to be with Kelsey. But I want to be with her without the drugs and the lifestyle. And even though I tell myself that things will change, deep down, I know that they never will.

“I’ve missed you, Fallon.” Kelsey sits up and looks at me after the bands done playing. Some soft rock song is playing loudly through the speakers, but not loud enough that we can’t talk. “I want my life to have you in it again.”

I open my mouth to respond, or rather slur, but Kelsey covers my lips with her finger. She stares up at me, looking me over cautiously before moving closer to me. Again, she pauses to watch me and make sure she’s okay to make her move.

“You mean the world to me,” she murmurs, brushing her lips gently along the side of my jaw. I feel eyes on us from around the room but I ignore them as she gently kisses my cheek, teasing me. “Do I mean the world to her?”

I always thought that ever since Tyson was born, that I grew up. That I took the body of a teenager and replaced it with the mind of a thirty year old man. However as Kelsey licks her lips in front of me, waiting for me to respond, I feel like a stupid, hormonal teenager all over again that ignores the fact that actions like this cause situations like Tyson.

Even though I know I should just respond, I don’t. Instead, I kiss her.

“Fallon?” I hear Kelsey walk through the front door, stepping into the living room. I don’t look up from where I’m hunched over on the couch, my head in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other..

“He’s pretty smashed.”

“Fuck off, Erik,” I snap, looking up briefly to glare at him. I don’t even bother looking towards Kelsey. I don’t want her to see me this way.

“What’s going on?” She asks, worried. She slowly comes towards me and sits on the couch on my right. “Are you okay?” She rests her hand on my shoulder and massages it, trying to comfort me.

I jerk myself out of her grasp and turn away. Sitting up, I down a bad amount of whiskey and shake my head.

“Just leave me alone, I’m fine,” I mutter, looking at the ground.

“If I leave you alone, you’ll pass out, throw up all over yourself and choke. So screw that,” Erik snaps, clearly annoyed at how I’ve been acting for the past few hours.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Kelsey whispers. I chance a look at her. She’s staring at me, her eyes holding the threat of tears. She’s seen me when I’m high, when I’m paranoid, when I’m scared; but she’s never seen me at my lowest point and she has no idea what has brought me here.

She looks to Erik who shakes his head no. “I can’t tell you. It’s not my story to tell. If Fallon wants to tell you, he will.”

“Is it because I’m pregnant?” She whispers and I completely lose it. I don’t know how a voice so quiet can enrage me so quickly.

“Fuck no!” I yell, jumping to my feet. I take a swig of alcohol before feeling myself starting to sway. Standing up right now is not a good idea.

“Take it easy, man,” Erik says, grabbing my shoulders as I start to tip over. “You need to sit down.”

I jerk out of his grasp and turn away from him, only to come face to face with Kelsey. She’s still stilling down, however now she’s holding her barely-a-bump-there stomach, crying. She looks devastated and I realized I’ve hurt her.

I drop the whiskey bottle, letting it fall and roll on the carpet, leaking the small amount of liquid that was left in it. Carefully, I stagger towards her and practically collapse at her feet.

“Look at me,” I murmur. I run my fingers along her jaw and she meets my gaze with bloodshot eyes. “It’s not you; I swear it’s not you. It’s today.”

“What do you mean?” She says, holding in another sob.

Grunting, I rub my eyes with my palm. “Something happened last year on this day, something I never told you,” I mumble, avoiding her gaze.

“Whatever it is, it’s okay to tell me, honey,” she whispers, putting her hand over mine on her cheek.

“My parents died a year ago on this day.”

She looks shocked, like she might start bawling all over again. But something, something that I don’t quite know yet, makes her look completely composed. Later, I’ll realize, that this is one confession that she will torture me with until my grave.