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Gojo spends the next hour coloring everything with Haru.
Bob the Builder, the Cookie Monster, Dora the Explorer—you name it.
When the younger one eventually rearranges the papers to show his babysitter his own grand masterpiece, Gojo instead bites his lower lip in a sorry attempt to hide his disgust.
"Why the heck is SpongeBob green?"
He's yellow, dumbass, the man wants to add.
He has to remind himself that he was talking to an oblivious four-year-old, and it would be easy to hurt his feelings.
Too late.
The little boy's confidence is already crushed, his smile tipping downwards while his thin brows now knit with a little confusion, a little sadness.
"But green is my favorite color."
There's a slight quiver to his voice as Haru grows sad and even angry at the SpongeBob coloring that he was once so proud of.
"Is green a bad color?" he timidly asks.
When tears start gathering in his child's lashes, Gojo swallows the lump in his throat, unsure what to say or do.
One thing is clear, however.
If Haru runs back to you and wakes you up with puffy eyes and a running nose, Gojo knows very well that he would be done for.
Acting on whatever paternal instincts is in him, Gojo lowers himself to the floor and brings Haru to his arms, rubbing the boy's back.
"No, no. Green is a wonderful color."
That's an absolute lie.
Green is disgusting.
But for Haru's sake, he'll have to concede.
"This green SpongeBob is so special, just like you," Gojo adds with a smile, pressing a forefinger at Haru's nose. "So, don't be sad. I'll make some spaghetti for dinner tonight, okay?"
