The life and times of James and Dillion

Homosexuality, ftw.
+ Language, lots of it. my apologies.
+ Abuse, *sadface*
+ Gaycest, also ftw.

Enjoy.

I leaned to my left quickly to avoid being hit in the head by a flying ash tray, thrown by my father. It crashed loudly against the wall behind my quivering body, and made me jump about three feet. I knew that anytime would be a bad time to tell him, but I had to do it at some point, and he seemed to be in a good mood today. I shuddered at what he would've done if he was in a bad mood. I tried to get closer to him, reaching my hands out to show I was only trying to approach him, not hurt him, but he just lifted up another harmful object, this time a metal candle holder, with the candle still in it I might add, and inched away from me.
"Dad, don't be like this," I pleaded, knowing I wasn't going to get anywhere. I never did.
I also knew that with him being this angry, he wouldn't be able to talk. So it wasn't like I was going to get a responce out of him, other than the violent reaction of throwing things aimlessly at his son. Sigh.
The front door creaked open, and the russling of shopping back - alond with the jingling of car keys and chanky jewelery - filled the house as my mother returned home from "work," which was really just a lot of shopping, paid for by my dead grandmother's will money.
"Hello?" My mother, Teri, called shutting the door with a slam, no doubt she kicked it with her four inch stiletto, "I'm home! Is anyone here?"
No shit, Mom, of course someone was here. We always were. We just couldn't answer because one of us was at work, and the other two were currently occupied by trying to either kill their second born son, or not get killed by their pyschopathic, clinically insane father. Ah, traditional American families.
"What the hell? Dale, but that down right now!" Teri yelled and placed her bags gently on the floor. Wouldn't want to ruin those priceless heirlooms. You would think, after being married to this nut for almost thirty years, that this woman would know not to get near my dad when he was like this, but then again this woman was a complete and udder idiot, who cared only about how her makeup looked and if her hair was okay. b*tch. She stepped towards him, and like always, he got this scary, fucked-up look in his eyes that told you to back the hell up.
"Get away from me, Teri! Don't think I won't cut you!" he yelled and pointed the candle holder - and candle - at her threatningly. Oh shit, a candle, better back the fuck up.
"That's it," I grabbed my jacket off the back of the couch, which was in the same room by the way - because we were poor ass mother fuckers that couldn't afford a house with more than three rooms, and headed for the door, "I'm out." I flung the door open, slipping into my jacket, a dull white hoodie, both at the same time. I didn't even bother to close the door. Let the imbreds freeze.
I honestly didn't have the slightest clue where I was going to go. I didn't have any friends, and Dillon was working, so it wasn't like I could call him up and be like, "fucker, pick me up." It didn't work like that. As far as how long I would last out here in the middle of winter, it was twelve degrees, and I was already losing the feeling in my fingertips. Maybe calling Dillon wasn't a bad idea. I mean, he'd get pissed that his little brother couldn't handle himself for five minutes, but it was worth not loosing all my appendages to frostbite. I dug for my cell phone in my pockets, and finally found it, pressing and holding the five button. Dillon was badass enough to be on my speed dial.
It rang for a good fifteen seconds before he picked up, and even then, my greeting wasn't pleasant.
"What is it, James? I'm very busy," he asked, his voice stressed like always. That made me mad.
"Well, Dillon, I just thought I'd let you know that, well, one: Mom is a material whore, in case you weren't aware. And two: Dad threatened me by candle point, so now, in order not to get my ass beat, I darted off into the freezing cold, winter night." I paused, and he didn't answer, so I added a little, "Plus, you work at Starbucks, you fucker, you're not busy."
I heard him sigh away from the phone, or what he calls away from the phone, then he lazily began talking to me. "Why did Dad threaten you by.. what was it?"
"Candle-point," I said, "And because I told him something he didn't like."
"..." Dillon sighed, "You didn't.."
"I did."
I heard him growl a bit, "Are you stupid?"
"He was pissing me off, it was something to make my point."
Dillon sighed again, clearly angry and walked somewhere quiet. "You never tell Dad something serious like that in the middle of a fight, or anyone for that matter, but especially Dad."
"Well, I did. It's done, and I got an ash tray thrown at me."
"You're such a moron," Dillon said.
"Yeah, well, you need to pick this moron up before he dies of hypothermia. I'm at the corner of fifth and Post."
I hung up.

D= no moar??

naw. One-shot.
Kind of a crappy one-shot, but still.