Short Stories/One Shots

3. Dad Schlatt

My fingers tightened around the chair arm as my eyes fluttered and tried to adjust to the bright light surrounding the room. A half empty glass of whiskey, the ice long since melted, sat abandoned on the counter top beside the chair. The ash tray full to the brim of cigarette stumps. Sighing heavily I reached for the almost empty packet that lay against my thigh, putting a fresh stick against my lips and bringing the lighter to the end. I inhaled, the sharp and musty taste filling my throat and making me cough. Tiredness was overbearing as I shut my eyes once more, continuing to take drags as I grasped for calm.

"Dad?" the sweet sincere voice called to me, little splutters as he entered the smoke filled room. My eyes opened immediately and I put the cigarette out. "Dad can you make me a snack? I'm kinda hungry." His hands clung to the edge of the doorway, not wanting to enter in case I had awoken with a temper. Slight fear flickered through his innocent eyes as I examined them. I greeted him with a smile and opened my arms out.

"C'mere Tubbo." 

He hesitated for a moment, looking at my face for signs of sincerity which he eventually found. 

"Peanut butter and jelly little man?" I said as he scrambled onto my lap and I hoisted both of us up off the chair. He nodded, nuzzling his head into the warmth of my shoulder. "I'll make sure you're taken care off, don't worry." My voice cracked slightly half way through the sentence. 

He perched on the edge of the table while I made his sandwich, eyes hungrily watching my every move. I had slept in and it was now mid-day, I realised pretty quickly he hadn't eaten. I shouldn't have drank again last night. 

I handed him the finished sandwich and he ate carefully savouring every bite. I watched silently as my thoughts became overbearing. I wasn't a fit father anymore, I was letting him down. He could have so much better than a waste of space alcoholic like me. I hadn't always been like this but the reality of losing his mother had finally hit me years after and I skyrocketed into the man I am now. I can't drag him down with me and I knew he needed a better chance at life.

He's my boy and I love him. My heart would break in two without him but this isn't the life he deserves. 

"You wanna go play at Tommy's today?" I ruffled his hair and he nodded, wolfing down the last bites of his sandwich in excitement. "Alright, go pack your shit big man." I chuckled, tidying away the bread and washing the plate. My hands gripped against the sink after he left and I sighed deeply. My eyes pricked with sharp tears but I quickly pulled them back and headed to his room.

"Why don't you guys have a sleepover? Take Tubbee and some clothes. I have work stuff to sort out so don't worry about your old man being lonely." I passed him his bee plushie and his eyes seemed to light up with happiness as he threw some clothes into his backpack. His hand flew to mine as he pulled me downstairs and towards the car, only giving me mere seconds to pick up my coat and keys.

We drove there with the radio on full, singing our hearts out. I reminded myself to take in every detail of him, his smile and his laugh, his bright eyes and his overgrown hair. Once again having to fight back tears.

Phil, Tommy's dad, only lived round the corner which made the drive bittersweet and shorter than I would've liked. As soon as we arrived Tubbo went to swing the door open and run to the house but I stopped him, slamming the door shut quickly.

"Tubbo, you know your dad loves you."

"I love you too dad, can we go in now?"

"Just know I'd do anything to ensure you have the life you deserve, to make sure you have a chance in this god forsaken world. You're the most important thing to me."

"My life is great, I have you and Tubbee and Tommy!" He shouted happily and proceeded to open the door. 

"I'll miss you Tubbo.." He didn't hear my mere whisper, running up to the house and rushing past Phil once the door had been opened. Phil's eyes scanned the area until they landed on me sat in the car. I didn't move. I just looked at him, finally letting a few tears loose. My knuckles going white with pressure on the steering wheel.

"Schlatt... Is everything okay?" He asked as he approached the open passenger door. 

"Do you remember what we spoke about last week? Phil, I can't do this to him anymore. Please. Just promise me he'll be okay?" 

He took a moment before understanding, nodding and giving me a sympathetic look. I passed him Tubbo's bag and Tubbee which had been left behind on the chair. 

"Remind him every day I love him. Don't let him become even slightly like his father and make sure you cut the crusts off his sandwiches."

"Are you really sure about this?"

"Yes." 

"I'll update you weekly, like we spoke about."

"He can't know about that. Make sure he doesn't know. I don't want him to think he did something wrong because he didn't Phil, it's me and it's always been me that's the problem. He'll understand when he's older."

Phil gave a final nod in agreement before heading back inside. I was about to drive off but my body told me to give one final glance. There he was. Playing happily with Tommy in the back yard. His laughter loud and overwhelming.

"One day Tubbo. I promise I'll come back for you."

I began to drive away.

"I promise."

I didn't look back again.

------

I suddenly awoke to a voice calling me.

"Mr President. Erm, Mr President?" My eyes located the voice and landed on the young boy.

"Tubbo..." He awkwardly stood at the door, hands grasped around the edge and fear flickered through his eyes as he awaited the right moment to enter fully. This was oddly familiar. 

I smiled at him to enter, picking up the glass of whisky that sat on the desk next to me, pulling a fresh cigarette to my mouth and lighting it as my shoulders relaxed. I scanned over Tubbo's face, every detail I forced into my brain all those years ago, he still looked exactly the same as the day I left. He chuckled lightly, which caught my attention.

"What?" I questioned.

"It's just... something stupid."

I nodded at him to take a seat across from me and continue.

"Well, I don't remember much about my parents but for some reason I do remember my dad always used to fall asleep on the sofa, half empty whiskey by his side and when he awoke he would light a cigarette. Just like you did." His eyes scanned over my expression as if searching for something.

"Tubbo... I'm sorry."

"You haven't changed one bit Mr President. Your old habits still persist."

"You don't have to call me that." I paused for a moment. "I guess we should have a serious chat then?"

He nodded. "I guess we should, dad."