Friday Barnes Oneshots!!

Visitation day

(also in my au ive changed fridays parents names so her dads first name is rabi okay thanks)

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"Hey, you doing alright, kid?" Bernie asked hesitantly, sitting down at the edge of Ian's bed.

The day had come. The day. The day where, once a month, Ian would be asked by his mother if he wanted to visit his father in jail. Every single time it was a no. No, Mum. I don't think so, was his usual answer. Yet, today he decided why not. Why not go visit him? Why not see him and what he's become? Why not go see the man who's systematically tormented you your entire childhood? Why not? Just go! Shits and giggles, hey!?

It was a bad decision. Obviously, it was a bad decision, an idiot (Parker for example) could tell you that. Yet, he still went. He knew as soon as he walked through that metal door that it was a bad idea. It's a horrible one, really. But he still did it, and now he wanted to sink into his bed and suffocate in the covers.

Firstly, his father was late. The dickhead who was in jail was late. Which left Ian sitting around in the small meeting room fidgeting with his sweater and trying to avoid the guard's concerned looks. What if his father hated it? He was always so picky about how he dressed. Jumpers, collard shirts, ironed slacks, and loafers were the dress code with him. Once, Ian bought a band tee when he was around, what, twelve and you know what his father did? Rodger Friederick threw it into the firepit and gave him a lecture on how instead of wasting his time with frivolous things like music Ian should have been studying. Or practising soccer. Or practising his violin, which was the only music that appeased his dad. It was that or learn how to play those Russian and French opera songs his father loved so dearly. Ian had subconsciously dressed in the disciplined dress code. A navy cashmere jumper with black slacks and black loafers. It was neat and more importantly, it was safe. His father wouldn't have anything to say about it.

Then, when the cunt actually arrived, the first thing he did was criticize Ian. Like the idiot he was, Ian had forgotten about the gold necklace he had been wearing. There was nothing extraordinary about it. Just a simple gold chain around his neck, but Friday had given it to him so he hadn't ever thought about taking it off.

"You look like a pansy with that," his father had grumbled when he finally was escorted in.

Ian had looked up immediately with wide eyes, he didn't know how to respond at all. His mouth clamped up and his shoulders tensed. Fuck. He wasn't ready at all. He could feel his fingers twitch and his body freeze up. Even without the crisp suit that his mother had always painstakingly made sure was ironed and the slicked-back hair, his father still looked just as– if not more – terrifying as always. He still had that look in his eye that made Ian feel horrible inside. It was a specific look. His father had different looks similar to how Ian had different smiles. Each one catered to make you feel a certain way. They were very alike, Ian would always remind himself of that. This specific look was the one Ian had seen a lot. The one where he knew immediately he had done something wrong.

"So, you finally decided to visit your poor old father, hm?" Mr Fridericks had scoffed and sat down. "You were always so ungrateful. Did your mother tell you not to come?"

That did it. Ian found his voice after that comment.

"Don't bring up my mother," Ian sneered. "You're lucky I even came at all. And for your information, I chose not to come before on my free will. I wouldn't have even remembered it was the time to go if mother didn't remind me."

His father chuckled. "So snippy, Ian. You need to relax, you've always been tense."

"You were the reason why I was so tense!" Ian exclaimed. "I've been doing just fine without you."