.72 He

Genre: Drama
Characters: Wilson De Luca, Bianca De Luca
Prompt: .72 - He
Word Count: 997
Rating: PG
Type: series
Summary: Wilson's point of view. Relationship with his parents
Warnings: drunk teen
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“I should have said something!” Wilson slouched forward resting his hands on his thighs. Cool beads of condensation went unnoticed as they dripped down the bottle of beer and onto his thin cotton pajama pants. He stared blankly at the images on the television too lost in his thoughts to care that he was now watching an infomercial about some high tech brownie pan. As if it were the only part of him that was still functional, he pressed the rim of the bottle to his lips, taking in the last of it’s contains.

He instantly pushed off of the sofa to retrieve another, dropping the empty bottle into the bin as he passed it on his way to the refrigerator. Firmly yanking the handle, “Damn!” He groaned as he realized there was just one left. He refused to drink while on the job and until today, he didn’t regret it. On any other day he’d come home, shower, and go straight to bed but after being within 10 feet of her and saying nothing, sleep wouldn’t come easy.

Not wasting any time, he popped open the bottle and took a huge gulp, hoping the large consumption would at least give him enough of a buzz to put him to sleep. He kicked the door closed with the bottom of the bottle still parallel to the ceiling.




Finally pulling the bottle away from his lips, he retreated to the one place that was always able to help his clear his head. He needed that. A clear head, guilt-free conscience, and more beer.



A cool breeze knitted in the early morning air brushed against his bare skin, already easing some of his tension but his mind was still clouded. Still obsessing over her.

Wilson rested his foot on the edge of the diving board as he took another sip. He allowed the ringing of his house phone to continue, “Can’t be her…” he took another sip, returning his gaze to a single leaf floating inside the pool. “Leave a message…” He heard his own low-toned voice. “Wilson…it’s Dad. I uh…know it’s been a while…Give me a call back when you get the chance. Bianca hasn’t come home and we are worried about her. We miss you son. Call me back.”
Wilson’s eyes heart sank with the news. “Bianca…” He whispered, ignoring everything else he heard. He never forgave his parents for their selfish acts which lead to his separation from Cian so hearing that they missed him meant nothing. After discovering the truth 5 years after he’d last seen her, he shut down, refusing to have casual conversation with either of his parents. By his 17th birthday, he’d went off to college and cut off contact with everyone but his baby sister Bianca. Despite the 10 year age difference, their bond grew stronger over time. The disconnection within his parents’ marriage left him to play the father role in Bianca’s life strengthening the anger he felt for them.

A loud bang at his front door followed the end of the message. He sat the beer bottle down on the diving board, rushing through the house toward the noise. “Who is it?” He held onto the knob awaiting an answer. “Will…” He heard a light voice slur his name.

“Will…Ithin…Im drunk…” She slurred with a giggle, her eyes barely open.
Wilson frowned, lifting her up by her wrist he dragged her into the house.
“Slo…down!” She slurred between words, sliding her free hand across the wall to keep from tripping over her feet.
“Sit!” He pointed to the sofa, turning on his heels to get her a glass of water.
“Thatsa bigassTV!” she giggled, holding on to the back of the sofa as she sat on the arm of the chair. Wilson returned with a glass of water, “Here.” He couldn’t remove his frown.
“That bettabevodka!” She leaned forward to sniff the liquid. “I dun wantthat!” She crossed her arms like a spoiled child.
Slamming the glass down on the side table, Wilson turned her chin to face him “What the hell is wrong with you, Bianca! Banging on my door like the police, 6:30 in the morning drunk! You’re 15! Who in the hell gave you alcohol anyway?!”
“Blah blah blah, Dad!” She motioned with one of her hands. “You soundlike em! Wheres ma cool bigbrotha? Huh?”
“Where’s my smart little sister?” He retorted with his arms crossed.
“I dunno!” She shrugged through her laughter.
“Fine,” He dropped his arms to his side, “Give me a second to throw on a shirt and I’ll take you home.”




“No! I rather live undabridge!” She crossed her arms, converting her smile.
Wilson knelt down beside her still unable to remove the frown that curled his lips. “I know the feeling, trust me! But getting drunk isn’t going to change things! If you really want out of there, you need to do what you have to do to make it happen!”
“How?” She began to sob. “They won’t let me work, Any money I get they havta be there whena spendit!” Her words fused together as she sobbed louder. “I can’t doit, Will! I can’t be a puppet like Giana!” She shook her head, trying to catch her breath.
Will rubbed her knee to comfort her. He knew the feeling all too well. Everything from the look in her eyes to the tone of her voice told the same story of his life. A story that he was trying to rewrite starting with the rekindling of his friendship with Cian. Climbing to his feet he rubbed her shoulder. “Canna stay here with you, Will…please? I’ll cook, clean, and gota school!” She looked up wide eyed.



Wilson exhaled deeply, “We’ll have this conversation in a few hours when you’re hung over and promising to never drink again!” He pulled her off the arm of the chair into a hug.
“Thank you Will!” She squeezed him tighter. “I'm gonna hurl if you don't put a shirt on!”