Whatever It Takes {MxM} *COMPLETE*

{22} - Too Much

Andre watched as the man across the room, paced a new hole into the tiles under his pristine dress shoes and mumbled what seemed like nonsense under his breath, none of which he could really hear. To him, it looked as though his newfound 'father' was fighting an internal battle of sorts.

He would stop mumbling for a moment, then turn, cock his head as if contemplating something, then he would go back to his incessant pacing and shake his head as if dismissing whatever thoughts he was having.

He said not a word to the man since he'd woken that morning to find him already there, awaiting his attention. Because, really, what would he say anyway? He'd already made quite clear, he wanted nothing to do with him but did the guy give up? Ugh!

This was simply torture.

"Did your mother never do anything on your behalf?" came the sudden question as Nathaniel turned to face him. "To...to spare you all of that? Or, did she just stand there while you were defenseless against him and his tirades? Did she do nothing and let you suffer alone for something that couldn't be helped?!"

Angered anew and not awaiting a reply, Brookoff whirled on his heels and drove his clenched fist into the nearest wall without thinking, a string of ungodly curses falling from his gasping lips when he realized he'd just punched solid brick.

What the fuck.

"God, that hurt!" he wailed loudly as he nursed his abused hand and turned in a circle, damming the hard ass wall to the furthest reaches of hell. "That looks so much sexier in the movies dammit! What is wrong with those people?"

Throwing himself into the nearest chair, he leaned forward and stared a hole into the floor as he fought for some semblance of calm while willing the excruciating pain in his hand, away. No easy feat, because now, it seemed to hurt more as it started bleeding.

"She died when I was thirteen." Andre said in a dead tone. "So I at least had thirteen good years before it all went to shit." He sighed and rested his head against the wall behind him. "I'm over it though so let it go."

Nathaniel wiped his knuckle on his pants, relishing the small sting. "To think that all this time, I could have had you under my wing, nurturing you and raising you as my heir and I have to hear from you that you were never really happy. She never told me, son. I could have been there for you and she...Never. Told. Me!"

Well, boo hoo.

"Why should you care about how I've lived my life up until now?" Andre huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze direct, spearing the older man as he stared right back. "You had your precious son to raise. You had a grandson as well. I should say that you nurtured and raised enough already. What am I, but excess?"

He would not cry. He would not cry. He wouldn't!

"I was only sixteen years old when Clarissa gave birth to Daniel. I was a kid. What the hell did I know about fatherhood?" Nathaniel asked, not really expecting a reply. "I mean, I wasn't even really that involved with Daniel until after I earned my bachelor's degree. By then the boy was already like ten or so. I didn't know how to bond with him but I tried my best."

There was nothing Andre wanted more in that moment than for Rafe to walk back into the room and dismiss Brookoff. Why he left him all alone in the room with this stranger, saying it was best, was beyond him and the last thing he thought was best.

"My best wasn't good enough, of course." Nathaniel said sadly. "I barely saw him due to being so busy at the start of my career. Its just... you know, it was very demanding and I was trying so hard not to disappoint my own father. I chose my career over my own son and then I found out he'd gotten some poor girl knocked up."