If Our Love Is Wrong [BxB]

Chapter 2 - The Dealer

Cathy settled into the seat across from Liam at the dining table, sliding a cup of coffee in front of him. The rich aroma enveloped his senses as he took a deep breath. Cathy delicately sipped her tea, wincing slightly as it scalded her gums—perhaps a touch too hot. It had been a few days since the latest altercation between Liam and his father.

"What are you going to do, Liam?" Cathy inquired, her lips poised over the rim of her cup. Despite the early hour, Liam relied on the caffeine to brace himself for the day ahead.

"I'm just going to go home and do what I do best-take it." He said with an honest voice, his hands shaking inside his pocket. He still hadn't been home; he dreaded what awaited him as he stepped over that dreaded threshold. Cathy averted her gaze, looking towards Liam. She couldn't help the guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't do more. She attempted another sip of her tea, licking the surface of the creamy liquid to test its heat. She gave a warm nod.

"You know you're always welcome here, lovely. If I could have you living with us I would but I can't afford it." She stated sadly, knowing her job as a school cook wouldn't stretch far enough.

"I know. Don't sweat it. Listen, I should go. Thanks for having me these last few days." Liam smiled as he stood up from the chair he was sitting on, letting it scrape across the wooden flooring so it sat back under the table. Regretting the decision, he felt a stitch in his stomach. The burning sensation in his ribs made his whole body painfully ache. Despite the pain, he managed to make it unnoticeable to the naked eye of Cathy.

"Are you leaving already?" Jake's groggy voice floated down from upstairs as he descended the creaky staircase, rubbing his eyes in a half-dazed motion. Clad in his Birmingham City T-shirt and shorts, he looked every bit the picture of sleepiness.

"Yeah, bro. I've got to face it eventually, right? Catch you later. Thanks, man," Liam replied weakly, offering a small nod before stepping outside. The only sounds were the chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of the breeze as Liam made his way to the balcony, overlooking the communal garden below. The children playing seemed carefree, oblivious to the troubles of the world. Taking a deep breath, Liam hesitated, nerves fluttering in his stomach. His own flat looked cold and lifeless, devoid of the warmth that once filled its walls.

As Liam stepped inside, a chill seemed to settle over him, memories of the previous night's horrors flashing before his eyes like vivid snapshots. They came and went in a blur, leaving him shaken but determined to press on.

"Where have you been, or should I even ask?" Marcus's voice boomed loudly from the living room. Liam didn't want to engage, didn't want to provoke further confrontation. But Marcus's demand for attention was insistent. "You heard me, boy. Where have you been?" he pressed, his words slurring with the remnants of a hangover. Liam's nose wrinkled at the familiar scent of alcohol on his father's breath—Jack Daniel's mixed with rum.

"Where do you think I've been? I was at Jake's," Liam replied, his voice trembling as he spoke, bracing himself for the impending explosion.

"And you didn't think you should have come home in case I needed you?" Marcus bellowed, his anger palpable as he raised a clenched fist and swung it into Liam's face with force. Liam felt the impact reverberate through his skull, tears springing to his eyes as his vision swam with pain. He fought to maintain his composure, refusing to show weakness.

"Now clean up and get to work, you worthless rat," Marcus spat, his voice dripping with contempt as he pointed to the bag on the table, filled with drugs and fake IDs. Liam nodded silently, his chest constricted with a wave of despair. He didn't want to cry—not just because he didn't want to appear weak, but because it would hurt.