That Was Not In The Script (Rydon fanfic) (ON HOLD)

That Was Not In The Script (Rydon fanfic)

Ok guys this is a Ryden fic. Ryan is widowed and has a four year old son, Ryan is in deep depression from the passing of his wife and who else turns out to be his son's pre school teacher? Brendon of course! Hope you like it, it is slash and there will be swearing in later chapters. Enjoy!

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Ryan's POV

"School!" Harry cried, reaching his fist out to try and touch the building on the other side of the car window.

"Yeah, buddy, school," I smile, but it's in vain.

I haven't smiled properly in about three years. You see, this wasn't what I expected in all honesty. After I left school, Imogen and I got thinking, then we got talking about what we wanted to do with our lives. She's always had a personality of a powerful mother, and she told me this, she wanted kids more than anything in the world. I loved her more than anything in the world, so, well, I gave it to her.

A year later and we had little Harry, and she was the best mother I've ever seen. She knew exactly when to change the diaper of Harry before he even cried, and I, well, I adjusted and when we worked together it turned out pretty well. So we were both happy, incredibly happy.

Until that day three years ago, until cancer took the best thing that happened to me away. And then she was gone, she left me all alone with no note, no reference, no apology, and then she went. I was alone. With Harry.

I had to raise him on his own, and now that he'd old enough he has to go to school. I had to take time off work to bring him here, and I feel sorry for him, so sorry. He won't ever have the bright future he would've had if Imogen didn't die. But now he's stuck with me, and Im not exactly helping. I cry every night and never smile during the day. But I try, I try for him. I really do.

"Daddy, let's go!" he whined, pushing hard against the door.

"Calm down, Haz, let me get it," I sigh, rolling my eyes.

I took off the child lock and pushed open the door, wrapping my arms around the four year old, I lifted him up and placed him carefully on the pavement.

"Fwiends!" he cried, running as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"Wait a sec, bud, we have to check you in," I remind him, grabbing him from the waste and hoisting him up on my shoulders.

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"We are delighted to have little Harold join our family," Mrs Carter, the principle, told me kindly.

Harry giggled beside me, reaching out, trying to grab my hair.

"Thank you. When can I meet his teacher?" I asked, making sure Harry's grubby hands don't reach me.

"If you will come this way, right now," Mrs Carter answers, standing up and gesturing towards a door.

I nod, taking Harry by the hand, guiding him through the hallway.

"This way, please," she calls over her shoulder and I grip his hand tighter as we walk down corridors.

Mrs Carter suddenly stops behind a closed door, and I bite my lip because I can already hear the loud noises and the laughs and the shouts from inside. She pushed the door open slowly and I took a step closer into the room.

It had bright yellow wall paper with pictures that kids under the age of six drew hung up, the carpet was fluffy although not very clean as glitter and glue make themselves known on the surface, paper and even more glitter get tossed up in the air as children around Harry's age run around like wild animals. I can't even hear myself think when I see an adult, well, just about an adult anyway, possible younger than me, run around as if he was five.

"Holy..." but I knew better than to finish that sentence.

"I know, nice isn't it?" Mrs Carter replied, smiling proudly.

"I was thinking more along the lines of wild."