Dear Tubbo...

Letter #2

(A/N) Italics are Schlatt's flashbacks.

Dear Tubbo,

  It’s been a bit. I guess I started finding that finger painting shit kinda peaceful. I got out last week and been clean for the last 3 months. I’d say your old man is doing good for himself. Your birthday is next Monday but I don’t think I deserve to see you.
 
  I remember your first birthday. I could still control myself most of the time. You really liked bees. I bet you still do knowing that smile you’d get every time you would see one. 

  On my way home from work that night I stopped by the convenience store. There was one shelf with a bunch of nicknacks and saw a windup bee. I had to get it with the money for my dinner but I thought it was worth it. It was.  You were always carrying it around with you. It was annoying as shit though. You couldn’t wind it up by up by yourself and you’d always have to ask me to ‘wind up da bee’. 

  You learned real quick not to ask me when I was drunk. I think I broke it once out of annoyance. You didn’t bother with me for days until I fixed it… 

  I sat on the kitchen floor as I finished my third beer of the night. I grabbed an unopened bottle next to me and opened it against the bottle opener. I deserved this. After all the work I do I deserved this one more. As I brought the bottle to my lips Tubbo appeared in the archway. 

  “Papa?” Tubbo broke the silence.

  I took a swig of the cheap alcohol, “Not now.”

  “But Pa-”

  “Shut up!” I raised my voice at the toddler. He backed down before speaking up again. 

  “Wind up da bee?”

  Shut up.

  “Pa?”

  Shut up.

  “Wind up da bee, Pa?” He pushed the bee in front of my face.

  “Goddammit!” I snatched the toy and threw it across the room.

  “Shut up, Tubbo!” I yelled as I watched it hit the wall and fell to the ground. He watched it too. He looked at it and silently cried till I finished my fourth. At some point he retreated to his room, leaving the broken bee lying on the floor and me curling up on the cold tiles, falling asleep…

  -I couldn’t fix it though. I had to take it to Phil and he found some way to make it work again. He’s always been good at the dad thing. I don’t understand how the fuck he can do it all by himself.

  I hope you can forgive me one day nubs,

      -Pa