A Father's Love

The Cake

Something was wrong.

For a while, everything had been fine, so he thought. Father was lingering out of his office more, spending more time in the den or in the kitchen to watch Hugh work. Their nightly meals had quickly become something else to look forward to, while their intimate encounters were becoming a habit.

But it had been a strange week. Suddenly, Father had withdrawn. Daylight hours were spent barricaded in his office, and there were several instances where Hugh overheard half of an argument and smelled smoke. At night, he could hear his footsteps echoing down the hall at all hours, as if he was looking for something he could not find.

Was it his place to ask? Hugh realized after the fourth meal being outright refused that he wasn't sure where he stood in Father's eyes. His position seemed to fluctuate from day to day, but as of late, he seemed to be squarely out of sight and out of mind.

He sighed at the apple he was peeling and glanced over his shoulder. Could he at least be worried? Even in his worst moods, Father usually still at least ate something.

Hugh would have to find out. It was keeping him up at night to not know what was going on. For all he knew, his job could be in jeopardy. Was it really so easy to get bored of him?

Just as doubt began to settle in, the sound of footsteps chased it away. Hugh straightened his back and tried to look busy, but he did steal a glance as Father stormed in.

"Good afternoon-" Hugh began, but he fumbled with the peeler as a piece of paper had been slapped down onto the counter next to him.

"I need this by tomorrow." Father had moved everything else out of the way to slide what appeared to be a schematic to the center of his attention. "Before noon."

Hugh blinked at him, then down at the paper. "...A cake?"

"Sharp as ever, I see." Father moved past him to get to the cabinets. "And get me a coffee, will you? I have another meeting in ten."

Hugh had picked up the sheet to look it over, but the more that he read, the closer his brows drew together. He read it three times, just to be sure that he wasn't mistaken before he glanced over at Father.

"This is..." Gross. "..A tall order," he said, trying not to sound as perplexed as he felt. "It says 15 layers."

"Very good, Test. You can read." Father rolled his eyes before fixing him with a hard stare. "Yes. By tomorrow, before noon."

"That's not-" Hugh paused as he scanned the paper once more. "I don't even have half of the ingredients I would need to make this."

"Then go get it."

The demand was clipped and preceded a sudden spike in temperature. Hugh felt his shoulders tense under the weight of Father's impatient stare.

But none of this made any sense. Hugh frowned back at him and gestured to the list. "You can't be serious. Something like this would take days for even a bakery to put together. If you had given it to me earlier-"

"I'm running a goddamn business." Father hissed with an unusual sort of venom. "What the fuck are you doing all day that you can't do this one thing?"

A chord had been struck within Hugh, and very suddenly his heart was in his throat. It was a deep cut, likely more than what Father realized. But despite this renewed sense of agony, something else had been shaken loose.

"A lot."

Hugh set the paper down and folded his arms across his chest as a righteous anger swelled within. "I do more than what you ask, and you know that," he spat.