EPOCH: Expiration Date Series Fanfic

Dad: Erik

future timeline, Amoria.

Erik~~

I talk to one of the head konkursi about what to pack, explaining that we're going to be there for an earth month but they need to account for the journey there and back. The amount of clothes they packed was way too little versus what we need. He seems to understand when he walks away with his clipboard— but the handwriting is worse than even the neatest doctor's notes. I scowl but change moods when I walk into the next room.

"Hi wifey," I say to the woman. Rydersin Torellae, love of my life. We kept her last name because I didn't want my parents to have the glory of their last name in Amoria. I notice what she's doing and my mood reverts, "What happened this time Hanenn?"

My son, now 16, is having his wrists bandaged by her, "Nothing. Nothing happened, dad," he refuses to meet my eyes.

Rydersin exhales, "He got into another fist fight with a konkursi's kid."

I sigh, exasperated, "How?"

A small smile cracks at her lips, "Do you want to tell dad?" Hanenn turns his head away completely, "Fine. I'll tell him then. He was defending you because they called you a man-you-know-what."

I grin slightly, "Did you win?"

"Erik!"

"No," Molly cuts in, "I broke up the whole ordeal before anyone could 'win,' you dickhead." she responds snarkily, obviously not in the mood for my shenanigans. Even though we adopted her, with our 11 earth year age gap she sees me more as a brother than father figure. Which is fine by me. She's 27 now which means that I'm... old. Yeah, nerds can do the math.

Hanenn huffs and takes what's left of the bandage wrap while he leaves, "Enn! Come back here right now, young man!" Wifey yells at him.

Molly's eyes roll, "Ugh... does he get this from your side, Erik?"

Shrugging, "Probably. I'll talk to him." I follow after my teenager. I know I was all rebellious when I was 16— but I was rebelling against the dates— I have no clue why my kid might be acting out. I turn the corner and hear my son's door slam shut, though I knock right after, "Hey bud... It's daddo. Can I come in?" He tells me 'F you' in Amorian, so I guess that means yes.

The door opens without sound; so quiet, he doesn't realize I entered. Inside, he continues to wrap his arms with the fabric. I wince at the horrible handiwork, but watch from the afar, leaning on the wall. He gets frustrated that he can't aid his own wrist independently, chucking the roll onto the floor. I watch him curl into himself then bury his face into his knees. His shoulders move up and down uneasily at varying points. "I'm so stupid," he mutters to himself.

"That, you are," I agree, making my presence known.

He flinches and glances at me, "Crap-" but turns away to swipe at his face. Only now it becomes clear he was crying.

I retrieve the wrap from the floor to fix his disgusting attempt, "You good?"

"I don't need your help."

"You're crying, and your first aid skills are appalling; you do need help." Hanenn frowns but allows me to continue with silent acquiesce. He mumbles something to me, though I can't hear it, "Speak louder."

"I'm sorry... sorry I keep getting into fights."

I pat his hand, "No worries Enn. It's their fault for trying to insult their preeminence's partner." Hanenn nods in agreement, but his eyes indicate his thoughts are elsewhere, "I know there's something else bothering you. Spill."

"It's stupid."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Perfect. I live for stupid. So tell me," I ruffle his reddish-blonde hair, making him groan in protest. His amber eyes glare; If not for the red tint in his hair, he'd be an exact copy of me.

"Do you... ugh... nevermind it's repulsive," I raise a brow, prompting that he continue, "...do you guys love me?"

I'm surprised, not expecting that he'd ask that, of all things, "Of course, Hanenn. Why wouldn't we love you?"

Tears gloss his eyes, "I don't know. I just feel like, you guys love Molly more— because— I don't know, it just feels that way!!"

I smile with a bit of hurt in my eyes, "We don't love either of you more than the other. You're just overthinking."

The boy wipes his eye with his wrist, but regrets it when he feels pain in said wrist, "I get half as much attention than her. And I'm your real son."

"Hanenn, you're both our real kids—"

"But you give her more attention because she isn't; therefore you try so much to make her feel happy, that..." he stops crying, maybe finding it childish, "that I get lost in the process. I just want your love." With each word, his voice becomes quieter, "Sorry."

I lean forward to embrace him, "Don't say sorry. You never need to say sorry. I'm sorry, that you feel that way and I'll try to do better. For you." He presses his face into my shoulder, putting his arms around me in a hug.

"Thanks dad."

I hum lovingly. But must ask an important question, "So did you win?"

Hanenn chuckles, "Kicked his ass."