what do we do now? [muke af]

twenty

twenty

Michael climbed the steps of their house a few minutes before nine. Luke was in his nightly shower and the house was calm. Everything was at ease.

Mike peaked his head in Tab's room, seeing her sitting on her bed with a sketchbook. The icicle lights in her room were on, illuminating the white walls. A black and white portrait of her and Luke was blown big, hanging just above her bed.

"I like the lights," he commented, stepping further into the room.

"Thanks," Tab responded, closing her notebook. She tossed it on the ground, looking up at her father with bright eyes.

He sat down on the end of her bed, his hands in his pajama pockets. "So, we've gotta talk about the other day."

"What about it?"

Michael criss-crossed his legs and turned towards Tab. He reached out his hand, grabbing her right hand. He traced his tattooed fingers over her bruised knuckles. "You punched that kid pretty hard, didn't you?"

She nodded slowly, not sure what to say.

"You can't just fight people, Tabby. It's just—It's a no, okay?"

"He was a dick," she responded.

Michael tried to hold in a smile. He promised his husband he would take the situation seriously. "I know, a lot of people are dicks in life, though. Either ignore it, or confront it with your kind voice. Yeah?"

She shrugged her shoulders. Tab had an old white tee shirt of Mike's hanging off her shoulders, there were holes over the entire torso and it covered her body.

"Is that mine?" He reached out, tugging the seam of the sleeve.

She looked down, not realizing. "Yeah. I used to wear when I missed you."

Michael couldn't keep a straight face as his persona fell. "I love you," he said quietly. He stood on his knees, crawling to the left side of the bed. He laid on her pillows, dragging his daughter down with him. He held her close, trying to bond on the moments he should have been that.

"I know," she responded.

"I'm so proud of you, Baby Girl. No matter what you do, no matter who you become. I will always be proud of you."

She kicked the covers up, getting her and her father under the sheets. "I know that, Daddy."

Michael gave her a smile, his tired eyes looking down at her. She was almost the exact image of Michael—it was eerie. "I'm a really bad father," he admitted.

"No one's perfect." Tab had anger built up deep inside of her that she wouldn't find for another ten years. She was mad that Michael left Luke a mess. Luke was Tab's sunshine and Michael made her sunshine sad.

"I think you're perfect."

She giggled. "No one is perfect," Tab repeated.

Michael sighed, content with the moment. "Back to the whole fighting thing, Tabitha."

"Daddy," she whined, "I'm not going to do it again. I don't like hurting people and I hurt him bad."

"Did you fucking see his broken nose? That was impressive. But, in a bad way." Michael rolled onto his back, closing his eyes. His eyelashes were long and dark, falling upon his cheekbones and casting a shadow around his pale skin. Besides the small X under his eye, his face was tattoo free. It was one of the few blank spaces left.

"Thanks. I'm not really proud of it."

"Good, don't be proud of that stuff. Don't do drugs or have sex until you're married. Don't talk to bad people and don't get obscene tattoos."

She covered her face with her hands, hiding her laughter. She kicked up her knees, accidentally taking the blanket from Michael. "Stop, that's embarrassing."

When Michael started to talk to Ashton again, Mike started to remember why he hated it. He hated the feeling of uncertainty. Michael felt like he could die at any moment, and it was scary.

It was really, really scary.

"I'm trying to teach you life lessons!"
"Fine, you can continue."

He rolled onto his side again, tucking his head into his hands. "Okay, don't run away. I don't care how mad you are at your father or I, we love you regardless."

"Why did you run away, then?"

"My parents didn't love me," he responded truthfully, "My parents weren't like Dad and I. They were mean and didn't want me if I was with Dad." Michael felt weird called Luke Dad. It was finally hitting him—ten years too late—that he was actually a father.

"Why not?"

"I think my mom was afraid. She was afraid that if she supported me and Luke that my dad would hurt her." Michael hasn't said those words out loud ever. Not even to his husband. Luke knew what was going on behind closed doors, he didn't need Mike to say it.

"That's not nice. Is that why we don't talk to them?"

Mike nodded. "They don't deserve to have you or any of us in their lives."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

He reached out a hand, feeling over Tab's cheekbones. "It's okay. I have you and Luke, and that's all I need."

She smiled and nodded. "I know Dad is glad to have you home. He doesn't hide anymore."

"Hide?"

"He just stayed in his room all day. He made me breakfast, dropped me off at school, picked me up, then I wouldn't see him until the next morning."

"I'm so sorry," he apologized again, his voice cracking at the seams. "He loves you, too, Tab. He loves you so much. It's been hard for him and it will be for a while."

"I know that, I know a lot."

He pinched her round cheeks. "You do," he agreed.

"Can you stay until I fall asleep?"

Tears welled in Michael's eyes as he tried not to cry. He missed so much of his baby girl's life. "Of course," he whispered, "Anything for you."

In the dark, she couldn't see his tears.