Work Text:
Phil rolled his head back, his eyes closed, and inwardly groaned as he listened to his family laugh and joke and talk all around him. Everyone had come in for Christmas, from his grandparents on both sides, aunts, uncles, cousins he hadn’t seen in years, hell even his jackass barely-older brother had come back from California for the holiday. And wasn’t that just the joyous joy of all joys?
It wasn’t that he didn’t like his family, he did. He loved them. For the most part, at least. Well, maybe not his brother so much, but that was understandable. It was hard to love someone who’d been using you as their personal punching bag since the time they were both old enough to walk. The rest of his family though, he did, he loved them; they were great and fun to be around.
Just not that year.
That year, he would have much rather have just had a small, immediate family gathering. Just him, his parents, and Jackson-the-Jackass. Instead, there were close to fifty people crammed into their house, and about twenty of them were currently sitting in the dining room around the two extended tables that had been set up.
There was one good thing about so many people being around, and that was the fact that no one seemed to notice just how many glasses of hot buttered rum, Christmas wine, and peppermint schnapps the twenty-year-old had managed to down. He was currently on his third glass of wine, his brain getting lost to the sounds of the laughter mixed in with the instrumental Christmas music playing from the computer, and slowly swirling thoughts around that had been hidden for so long.
He thought back to high school, to the only friend he’d seemed to have left, the boy who had captured his attention and heart so long ago. Well, if two years could be counted as “long ago.” Two gorgeous blue-green eyes appeared to his mind’s eye, a thick mop of blond-brown hair and a mischievous smirky-grin that made those eyes twinkle. Clint had been so good to him. He’d been Phil’s protector and savior when things at home had reached a point where living in the same house as his brother was legitimately a hazard to his health. And how had Phil repaid him for his help and support? By turning his back and freaking out when things got rough for Clint. He’d been a horrible person, and it was a regret he had to live with every day of his life.
There’d be no pleads for forgiveness, no way would Clint accept him now. Besides, there was Clara to think about. The sweet girl from school who’d shyly asked him to see a movie with her after school one day and Phil had just pathetically kept around in hopes of making everyone else believe he was straight, even if deep down he knew he wasn’t. The closet he’d been living in most of his life was a deep and scary place, but it was safe. By having a girlfriend, it kept him from being ganged up on and beaten for being gay.
A heavy lump formed and twisted in his chest and stomach and he forced himself to down the rest of his wine before reaching for the bottle to pour another glass. He knew he was already good and drunk, but he didn’t care. He could still feel, and he didn’t want to anymore. Feelings were painful and depressing, and God wasn’t his life painful and depressing enough as it was?!
Slow, quiet and gentle piano notes pinged out from the computer speakers, pulling Phil in with their melodic tone and near lullaby rhythm. It was enough to make the lump in his chest start to squeeze his lungs and tears to form in his eyes. His vision went blurry as he stared down at the plate in front of him, unblinking and chest rising and falling heavily as the song played on until a sudden slap to his shoulder sent him lurching forward and startling from his mental torture chamber.
“Philby, when are you gonna get married, kiddo? You’ve been datin’ that Clare girl for, what, two years now?”
“Clara…” Phil corrected, his voice mumbled and word only partially intelligible.
From across the table, Jackson lifted his head and sneered over at his brother. “It’s not legal for queers to get married in this state, Uncle Mark. He’d have to move somewhere else if he ever wants to get married.”
“Clara’s a girl, you dipshit. Why’d he have to move to another state to get married to a woman? Are you sure you’re in college, son?”
“Nah, Phil’s gay as hell. His own friend caught him holding hands and snugglin’ up to another guy back in high school, after his accident.”
Phil was on his feet, stumbling backwards and knocking his chair to the ground as he stared at his brother. Pure, raw emotions coursed over his face as he gripped the table for support; the tears already in his eyes started to roll down his cheeks.
“Accident? ACCIDENT?! You…you mean the ‘accident’ where you volunteered to go with me to get fucking milk and then signaled your asshole football friends to jump me? Is that…that’s the ‘accident’ you mean? The one where I wound up in the hospital all f-fucked up and c-cou-couldn’t remember what happened?! FUCK YOU!” His voice was tight and strained as he struggled to breathe.
The house fell silent as Phil’s yell echoed through the rooms. All eyes of the adults surrounding the table were on him, watching in stunned silence as their usually quiet and respectful younger relative finally broke down in front of them.
“It wasn’t an ACCIDENT! It was PLANNED! By YOU! Always you! You’ve hated me since…th-the moment I was born! You’ve n-never once stood up for me! You’ve l-le-led the attacks every FUCKING time! If it hadn’t been for Bucky and Steve, your friends would have fucking killed me and YOU WOULD HAVE LET THEM!”
“Phil…honey, that’s enou—”
“NO!” Phil hollered, shaking his head quickly, his body trembling as he continued to cry. “No! It’s not enough! All my life he’s been treating me like s-shit just bec-cause I’m gay! Even before I r-realized I was, he was beating on me and c-calling me queer and fag and gaywad! I’ve been too afraid to ever say anything! To DO anything, because I didn’t want him to actually kill me! And…and now I just don’t care! I don’t CARE if you drag me outside and beat the hell out of me, leave me for dead somewhere! I just don’t CARE! I’m gay, alright?! I admitted it! And I don’t care what you do because it doesn’t matter what happens to me anymore! The only guy I ever had real feelings for is gone! I fucked things up with him and he’s gone and I’m probably never going to see him anymore! And…and…and I miss him so bad it hurts! I can’t sleep…I can’t focus…I…FUCK! I can’t even fuck my girlfriend because I can’t stop thinking about him and missing him! I don’t even like her!”
Struggling for breath, Phil swallowed hard and swiped at his eyes and nose. His entire body ached and he just wanted to curl up in a ball and sob for the rest of time. Still staring Jackson down, he felt the last of his strength and reserve leave him, the tears coming freely as he shook his head.
“You’d be doing me a favor if you just…just…I just want…I…”
A pair of tender and supportive arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in close and pressing a tender kiss to his head. Leaning into the familiar warmth and hold of his mother, Phil turned, his arms wrapping around her and he pressed his face to her shoulder to cry. He didn’t care if his entire family was staring at him in disbelief, he didn’t even care that he’d just come out to them all in probably the worst way possible, he just wanted to cry.
He whimpered into her shoulder, strings of apologies to both her and Clint fell from his mouth, followed closely by how much he hurt all the time, that he didn’t want to hurt all the time anymore. He just wanted Clint back; wanted to apologize and hold him.
“Shh, it’s okay. Let’s get you upstairs and put to bed, sweetie. I think you’ve had enough Christmas for one year.” His mother soothed, her hand rubbing up and down his back gently as she excused them from the dining room and led the way up the stairs to Phil’s room.
Tucking him in like she would when he was little, she brushed her hand over his hair tenderly. “We’ll help you not to hurt anymore, baby. But later. Sleep now, and no more talk about not caring what happens to you. Clint cared for you deeply, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have done everything he could to get you living somewhere safe. He wouldn’t want to hear you say things like that, and I don’t want to hear them either.”
Phil whimpered and curled up on his side, yanking the blankets up to his chin and tucked his head down into them. “I…I’m sorry, Mom…”
“Shh…sleep, sweetheart. We’ll work things out later. Just sleep.”
“Loved him, Mama…hurts…always…hurting…” Phil’s words trailed off into a whimpered whine as exhaustion finally caught up with him and tugged him down into the darkness of sleep.
~*~*~*~
A week later found Phil sitting in a comfortable, over stuffed arm chair, lights of the room dim and calming as gentle, relaxing ambient sounds played from a desk nearby. His fingers twitched in his lap, his knee bouncing nervously as he waited. This was for the best. It wasn’t something to be scared of. It was going to help him, he just had to give it a chance.
The door to his left opened, a pleasant looking woman stepped in, a pad of paper in her hand as she closed the door and stepped to the chair across from him. She lifted her eyes once she was seated, hands folded in her lap gently, and smiled. “Good morning, Phil. I’m Dr. Carols. You’re here because of depression and possible anxiety disorder?”
Phil swallowed hard and nodded, hands gripped tight in his lap.
“Y-yeah…I uhm…I want help….”