all he can do is sit there, back settled up against the bathroom sink, and await the end of another fit of gagging, coughing, and pained groans that leave his darling child a mess. everything about him now breaks his heart. the wide-eyed child that had clung to him and looked to him for guidance could barely look him in the eye now.
the amount of self-control it took to keep himself from crying was perhaps a test of his inner strength. in every worst-case scenario he thought up, he had always envisioned himself breaking façade and crying in front of his son. now that the worst had come to fruition, every reason to hold back had presented itself. every ounce of his parental spirit felt like tearing itself in two at the thought of failure, but here was an opportunity. for years he had demonstrated strength in the eyes of a seemingly blank slate. across that blank slate were supposed to be bits of himself, the attributes of himself that both could be proud of. those things were supposed to help nurture a soul destined to accept, to love– to learn.
it was a test for his own mental strength as well as his son’s. if lucien could work his way out of this, then it was possible he had done something right in aiding his son’s growth into a young adult.
‘ of course you can, dear… ‘
He leans back against his father once more, this time wrapping his arms around him, face dug into Damien’s shoulder. He just needed some time to think and relax, he needed to gather his thoughts and get through this DREADED hangover. Only then, could he explain this, he kept telling himself. GOD, how long would he keep thinking in circles?
Lucien’s breathing finally begins to slow, evening out. For the first time since he had awoken, he didn’t feel like he was going to puke. ❝I love you, dad,❞ he mumbles into the other’s nightshirt. ❝No matter what I say or do… Please don’t think I don’t.❞
