Tristan leaned against the wall, his bare arms hugging his chest. Despite his defensive posture Tristan's hazel eyes were alight with defiance. “I told you, I’m leaving” he whispered, his voice somehow calm despite the raging maelstrom of half-formed thoughts and warnings that swirled through his mind “I’m not afraid of you anymore”
“Oh?” Michael asked, his fists were clenched so hard that this knuckles were white “Tristan...”he began before he was abruptly cut off
“No! Don’t you dare!” Tristan jabbed at his father’s chest “Don’t! You can’t stop me. I will not let you stop me!” he spat, and he wouldn’t let Michael stop him. Not when they’ve finally reached this point; when Tristan could stand before him and not tremble, for once not caring about nor fearing the violence that shone in Michaels frost-grey eyes. Michael smiled laughingly “Where will you go? You’re nothing but a poor naive child” he mocked, then began slowly walking towards his son with the carful deliberate tread of a predator. He placed his hands on the wall either side of Tristan, blocking him in, invading Tristan's personal space, stopping when their faces where no more than an inch apart “Your mine” he growled “To use as I see fit...and I won’t let you go” he hissed
"I told you already" Tristan snapped "I’m leaving and you WONT STOP ME!” He wouldn't, just couldn't stand there and let Michael break him again, he would not stand there and listen to it anymore "Can't I?" Michael asked his voice dangerously low “And I told you before I won’t tolerate your defiance, didn’t I?” He snapped as he struck Tristan across his face who cried out, cupping his nose and mouth trying to stem the blood that poured through his fingers. Michael smirked as he wiped his bloody fist down Tristan's t-shirt "I'd clean that up if I were you, after all you wouldn’t want to go out all bloody” he said “Gives the wrong impression kid”
“I. Hate. You” Tristan ground out through ragged breaths, he coughed as the blood trickled down the back of his throat. He cast another defiant glare at his father who had retreated slightly. Tristan smiled a humourless, bloody smile as he pushed Michael further away and calmly left the room.
Michael stood there for a moment seething but seemingly unable to move. How dare he! Michael thought shocked “How dare he!” Michael repeated aloud. He watched as Tristan gathered his few treasured possessions and head towards the door.
Perhaps if Michael had really thought about it, he’d of realised that Tristan had finally been pushed too far and that he just might not come home again. But then again Michael never truly believed that Tristan would leave him in the first place, he’d made sure to break Tristan just enough, enough to make him totally dependent and submissive, which was, if Michael was honest, was the reason why he remained stupefied, stock still and silent. It was why Michael could never let Tristan go...because he needed Tristan just as much if not more than Tristan needed him.
Several hours later...
It was dark when Tristan arrived at his Grandfather’s house. He tentatively knocked upon the blue door. Tristan absently noted that his Grandfather would probably not recognise him due to the ugly bruising that graced his face.
The door opened slightly “Hello?” The sliver of the man that was visible revealed deep green eyes that crinkled at the edges and dark hair.
“Grandfather...Please can I come in?” he asked forlornly, staring at his feet awkwardly. The old man’s eyes widened in surprise as Tristan looked up with such pain and sadness in this eyes that the older man’s breath caught in his throat for second. Tristan’s normally soft hazel eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying, his thick reddish-brown hair was in disarray and the bluish-black bruises stood out starkly against his pale skin.
“Trist? What the hell?” He exclaimed in a shocked gravelly voice “You look awful!” He shut the door a moment unlinking the chain before throwing it open and hugging Tristan forcefully. “I’ll make some tea and then you have to tell me everything...” He whispered softly to Tristan, who was currently clinging to him like he never wanted to let go, Tristan’s grasp was almost desperate. “I mean it Trist. Now c’mon” he extrapolated himself and pulled Tristan in to the warmth of the house.
“Oh?” Michael asked, his fists were clenched so hard that this knuckles were white “Tristan...”he began before he was abruptly cut off
“No! Don’t you dare!” Tristan jabbed at his father’s chest “Don’t! You can’t stop me. I will not let you stop me!” he spat, and he wouldn’t let Michael stop him. Not when they’ve finally reached this point; when Tristan could stand before him and not tremble, for once not caring about nor fearing the violence that shone in Michaels frost-grey eyes. Michael smiled laughingly “Where will you go? You’re nothing but a poor naive child” he mocked, then began slowly walking towards his son with the carful deliberate tread of a predator. He placed his hands on the wall either side of Tristan, blocking him in, invading Tristan's personal space, stopping when their faces where no more than an inch apart “Your mine” he growled “To use as I see fit...and I won’t let you go” he hissed
"I told you already" Tristan snapped "I’m leaving and you WONT STOP ME!” He wouldn't, just couldn't stand there and let Michael break him again, he would not stand there and listen to it anymore "Can't I?" Michael asked his voice dangerously low “And I told you before I won’t tolerate your defiance, didn’t I?” He snapped as he struck Tristan across his face who cried out, cupping his nose and mouth trying to stem the blood that poured through his fingers. Michael smirked as he wiped his bloody fist down Tristan's t-shirt "I'd clean that up if I were you, after all you wouldn’t want to go out all bloody” he said “Gives the wrong impression kid”
“I. Hate. You” Tristan ground out through ragged breaths, he coughed as the blood trickled down the back of his throat. He cast another defiant glare at his father who had retreated slightly. Tristan smiled a humourless, bloody smile as he pushed Michael further away and calmly left the room.
Michael stood there for a moment seething but seemingly unable to move. How dare he! Michael thought shocked “How dare he!” Michael repeated aloud. He watched as Tristan gathered his few treasured possessions and head towards the door.
Perhaps if Michael had really thought about it, he’d of realised that Tristan had finally been pushed too far and that he just might not come home again. But then again Michael never truly believed that Tristan would leave him in the first place, he’d made sure to break Tristan just enough, enough to make him totally dependent and submissive, which was, if Michael was honest, was the reason why he remained stupefied, stock still and silent. It was why Michael could never let Tristan go...because he needed Tristan just as much if not more than Tristan needed him.
Several hours later...
It was dark when Tristan arrived at his Grandfather’s house. He tentatively knocked upon the blue door. Tristan absently noted that his Grandfather would probably not recognise him due to the ugly bruising that graced his face.
The door opened slightly “Hello?” The sliver of the man that was visible revealed deep green eyes that crinkled at the edges and dark hair.
“Grandfather...Please can I come in?” he asked forlornly, staring at his feet awkwardly. The old man’s eyes widened in surprise as Tristan looked up with such pain and sadness in this eyes that the older man’s breath caught in his throat for second. Tristan’s normally soft hazel eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying, his thick reddish-brown hair was in disarray and the bluish-black bruises stood out starkly against his pale skin.
“Trist? What the hell?” He exclaimed in a shocked gravelly voice “You look awful!” He shut the door a moment unlinking the chain before throwing it open and hugging Tristan forcefully. “I’ll make some tea and then you have to tell me everything...” He whispered softly to Tristan, who was currently clinging to him like he never wanted to let go, Tristan’s grasp was almost desperate. “I mean it Trist. Now c’mon” he extrapolated himself and pulled Tristan in to the warmth of the house.
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