EIGHTEEN (HIATUS)

PART FIVE

The due date for the student's essay quickly approached. November turned to December, the rain turned to snow, Luke's loneliness increased as the temperature decreased.

"Remember, next class your papers are due. They will be collected at the beginning of class so please be prepared. You are dismissed." Luke watched as students pulled on their jackets and scarves and filed out of the room.

After Luke's dinner with the Gonzalez family, Luke and Rider had been seeing each other more frequently outside of class. He treasured the meetings he had with his son, to him, he was making up for the eighteen years he had missed.

"Luke!" Rider's voice echoes, shaking Luke of his thoughts, the older man peered up, meeting his son's green eyes. "I was wondering if you'd like to get coffee?" the young boy asked.

Luke smiled and nodded, packing his bag before leading the boy to his car.

Luke let Rider choose the cafe they went to, after turning away from a small, local cafe due to its sudden closing due to snow, the two opted for a Starbucks a few blocks south. The two sat at a table by a window, steam rising from each of their drinks.

"I'd like to find my other dad, I'd like to find Michael."

Luke spat his coffee, quietly cursing as he patted his lap which was saturated with a hot mocha. Rider gasp and sat up, "Shit, I-" His father shook his head, "I'm fine, I promise, I was just surprised." Luck admitted.

Rider calmed down, frowning at his drink, "I'd just like to meet him, even if it's just once, even if he slams a door in my face I'd like to see his face, tell him he's my dad." the boy whispers.

Luke frowned, placing his hand over the boys', "I can't tell you he'll be the most ecstatic to see you, hell I can't even tell you where to find him. But I'll help you, If you want to meet him, so help me god I'll do everything I can to find him." Luke spoke.

Rider looked up, eyes filling with tears, "Thank you, thank you so much dad." he choked.

From the perspective of others in the establishment, the situation must have looked like a scene from a soap opera- two crying men, their coffee cold and forgotten.

Later that night, Luke sat at his desk in his bedroom, several tabs open on his laptop, each with information on one subject, Michael Clifford.

After hours of searching, cursing, cups of water and bathroom breaks, Luke had sighed, grinning to himself, "Found you."