Red waited just a bit longer in the rain, feeling the compression of his clothes as they soaked in the rain; like a cold weighted blanket. He glanced up at the sky feeling each drop on his face. This isn’t real. He thought this to himself. “I could use a real drink..”
He ran a hand through his damp bangs and shook them, he didn’t know why he bothered, it wasn’t real. Then again nothing at all seems to feel that way, nothing but… Nothing but the dragging exhaustion. And of course love.
Love, that's right. He had that. He logged off and took a moment to let it sink that he was back in reality. Alive, awake and breathing.
He looked around at the room around him and quickly remembered what he’d been thinking before. He took out a notepad from a nearby drawer, he brushed off some irrelevant sticky notes. After he left the room leaving the pen behind his ear. Coffee, I can smell it. Who made coffee? He felt a sense of fear, neither of his partners even liked the stuff. Especially the smell. So who made it? And why?
He met the coffee maker in the kitchen and realized his son was sitting at the table island. It hit him, another trait of his own passed to his son, coffee this late at night? Of course. “Kid. Why are you up so late, and with coffee at that?” His son looked up at him with a worn, tired look.
“Just… School I guess, it's… Overwhelming. Dad, you're a psychologist right? Then what's wrong with me? Why can’t I socialize like other guys?... It's stressful just trying to think like one…” Michael sighed, that's it. It hit him like a ton of bricks, his own son struggling socially. That was normal but his son was struggling this much, it hurt even him. Dammit, where were his husbands? Despite his knowledge, he was scared he didn’t have the right words.
He took a seat next to his son and put an arm over his shoulders. He was wearing that hoodie again, the one from the orphanage. Another sign. “Ryker, listen to me. There is nothing ‘wrong’ with you. Stress like this is… complicated, honestly your papi has plenty of experience with that kind. I think you've picked up some of his traits, and mine. I think you’re closer to anti-social disorder than your papi. And that's okay. Don't you worry about being like other teenagers.”
Ryker looked down into his coffee. []iHe was closer to anti-social disorder than papi? There's nothing wrong with it. Nothing.[/i] He thought about it quietly, waiting for his response to develop. “Yeah, I think you’re right. I don’t really like pretending to be like other people. It doesn’t even feel human with the way I think sometimes.”
Michael nodded. He gave his son an understanding soft smile. “I know what you mean, you never struck me as the kind of kid to think about sports, girls and fitting in.” He nudged Ryker playfully. “Your to ‘bi’ for that, like your old man huh?” Ryker gave a half grin back, it had been the most emotion he’d expressed for the past month. Michael took the mug of coffee from Ryker seeing as it was already midnight and poured it down the drain. Michael flinched suddenly from the surprise; Ryker had hugged him from behind, he hadn’t even heard him leave his seat. It was the first time he’d been hugged by him since he was seven.
“Thanks dad. I’m going to try to get some sleep again… You should too… Okay? Tomorrow, let's go to the forest for a walk to wake up, instead of coffee. Good night.” Ryker pushed his seat back in and put his hood over his head as he left the kitchen to his room. Michael slumped into his seat, his head in his hands. He was so tired, exhausted and with a malicious migrain. He felt like falling apart.
“Mijn liefje? Up so late again?” Soft hands wrapped around Michael’s chest for a hug, followed by a soft sleepy kiss on his cheek. Addison was finally home. Michael swiveled in his seat and returned the kiss.
“Mhm… You won't believe the night I had… Ryker even hugged me.” Addison smiled and played with Michael’s bangs; moving them from his face to see his eyes.
“You’ve clearly had a long night, come to bed. George is already fast asleep, clinging to a pillow.” He assisted Michael up from the seat and gently held him by the hands to lead him to his room to sleep. Michael nodded drowsy, that sounded nice. Sleep, no more work. He couldn’t endure another ordeal; he’d crack if he had to. Cuddling with his husbands, and going to sleep was all he wanted.
End.
Subject: Red's Writing Prompt: Exahausted 
Wed Sep 27, 2023 9:25 am
