Schizophrenic Steve || ʙʟᴜᴇꜱ ᴄʟᴜᴇꜱ

Forgive Me, Father

[AUTHOR'S NOTE/CONTENT WARNING: this chapter includes death. This is mainly a flashback. But here's a disclaimer for mention of loss and death]
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"You still don't know how to swim, do ya? And you're like— I dunno, 5 years old. And you can't swim, Son?"

... "yeah."

Tsk,

"Ah that's alright. C'mere. Embrace your old man, will ya?"

Yeah, I think you're ready.

"W-Wait, Dad put me down— I can't swim!"

WHOOSH!

The sound the water made of Steve being flung into the lake echoed across the backyard. Then it was the desperate splashes to get back up to the surface. All in a manner of panic.

"NOT TOO FAST, take it easy! You're alright!"

Steve's dad assured him as he tried to stay on surface. Getting the salty water in his mouth, spitting it out as he breathes for air. Steve listened to him and decided using only his hands won't work.

He used his little arms, kicked his feet at a steady motion— not too fast. The splashes sounds got less aggressive, Steve wasn't gasping for air anymore, just panting.

"JAIME!"

Steve's mother, Shannon, called out his father's name in fury. "He doesn't know how to swim!"

"Well, he does now." Jaime glanced over to Shannon nonchalantly, then back to his son. "He could've drowned!" She cried out, her breathing got rapid. "But he didn't, because he's my son." Jaime's tone was made of steel. He glared at Shannon in a way that made her posture stiff. Then he glanced back to Steve with a completely different demeanor.

"Steve! Swim across, get over here." He made it sound so easy, but it wasn't. Steve was treading, slipping underneath at moments. But he wasn't completely underwater. He didn't know how to swim— to get to a destination whilst in a lake that you can't reach the bottom of!

He attempted anyways, he trusted his dad. And low and behold, his attempt was a success. It wasn't flawless, of course. He used his little arms and legs to get to the land his parents were on, splashing tremendously in the process.

Meanwhile, Jaime was smiling the whole time. Shannon, on the other hand, not so much.

Jaime's smile wasn't empathetic, it was more of a proud, entitled father smile. He reached his hand out, to which little soggy Steve grabbed it and he pulled him up.

"Atta boy."

_

"Why do you keep doing stuff like that? Throwing him into a situation you just expect himself to claw out of?" Shannon was conflicted. The parents were in the living room, Steve and his baby brother at the time, Joe, were fast asleep. She kept her voice quiet, although she wanted to curse and scream.

"Maybe because I don't doubt him? Listen, you're raising him like he's some— like he's a little bitch. No, I'm gonna raise him to be the best version of himself he could possibly be."

Jaime's eyes pierced through Shannon's. His tone was harsh, quiet and low but in a way he could make himself clear. Her mouth was slightly agape as he spoke.

"Doubt is what keeps people safe. Along with fear— if people didn't have that then they wouldn't care about dangerous situations and immediately die!" She protested, to which Jaime averted his glare and chuckled in spite.

"So you're just gonna let our boys be cowards forever? Listen, Shannon, as long as I'm there, I can keep them safe."

She hasn't thought that far, about how he still supervises them. But still, he isn't the only parent. "Well, Jaime... you better be here for a longgg time then, by their side."