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He was so fucking tired.
So fucking tired of his blabbering mouth.
Did that son of his ever shut up?

Drew wasn't entirely sure how to answer the questions Lee was throwing at him for maybe the hundredth time already today. Why this, why that?

Shut up already, he wanted to say, but all the older man could do was stare blankly at his raging son's face.

"Drew are you even fucking listening? Drew!" He looked back down at the floor, idly reaching for a his bottle of beer only to find that it had been placed just out of his reach, "Dad!"

And that one got to him. Lee hadn't actually called him a father in years now. He supposed he deserved it with the way he'd treated the poor kid. But just looking at his son now was like a stab to his already broken heart. He had her eyes. Angel's eyes. And her heart. Lee himself… his son's very existence was a painful reminder of his loss. Their loss. But Drew had become too much of an empty shell to recognize much more than what his body was telling him.

And his body wanted that alcohol, badly, "Give me back my drink, son."

Lee bared his teeth, "Not until you tell me why you came back!"

Andrew's eyes hardened to stone, "Give me back my drink, now." Lee stared at him for only a few more moments, eyes filled with disdain. Good. Andrew didn't want to see any love left in that gaze. "Lee."

"Fuck you," he spat. "It should have been you, not mom!"

And with that, Lee shoved the bottle back into his father's face, storming out of the room without a word. Drew heard the doors upstairs slam not too much later before silence overtook the house again. It was only then that the man responded, "I know. I wish it'd been me too."