Age is just a number, after all. (Morten Harket x Reader)

Age is just a number, after all. (Chapter 3)

You quickly got up and hurried to go get the door.

When you opened it, you were startled for a moment, but quickly regained your memory.

On your doorstep was Jakob's father, Mr. Harket.

"Oh, hi."

He smiled shyly. "Hello. I hope I'm not showing up at an inconvenient time, uh..."

You shook your head. "No, you're not! It's alright. Please, please come in."

"Alright, thank you very much."

He took a slight bow and stepped in.

You guided him towards the living room.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"I don't want to be too much of a bother – now, you should slow down a little", he said, as he walked towards you and kept you from reaching up into the cupboard to take out a glass, "Think of your head."

However, you quickly took a glass and a nearby bottle of water and started walking over to the table. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you. No need to worry!", you said and motioned him to come over.

He looked a little surprised at first but then smiled and followed you. "Alright then."

The two of you sat down and you filled his glass with water. He thanked you. Then, he cleared his throat.

"So, (y/n)", he began, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, actually. My head is still a little sore at the back but it's not worth mentioning. It's safer for me to stay home today, of course. But I'm doing good."

"I'm glad to hear."

He smiled and looked down at his glass. He appeared to be a little insecure. You wanted to ask if he was alright but you decided to hold back.

"I, uh, you see... I...", he stammered and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm still not sure how to apologize for my son's behavior. I feel so... ashamed."

"Ashamed?", you asked in surprise.

"Yes. I mean, I've thought about it a lot and I've always tried to teach my son the right behavior and I don't know what I missed. When he got the idea and especially, how he got the idea. Did the two of you have any issues?"

"Not directly, I think. I believe we've never been too fond of each other but we never really talked or fought or anything. One day he just kind of started to behave like some sort of class clown and then he started to pick on me from time to time. It wasn't really that bad, just the usual stuff. Nothing severely insulting but more a mocking way. It's tiring but... I think there are worse things."

He looked at you in utter confusion.

"Did I say something wrong?", you asked.

"No, no. But I'm just surprised how you... just took all of this nagging all this time and never really mentioned anything to adults or teachers. We can talk about actual bullying here, because that's what he did with his behavior. There hasn't got to be anything really insulting to make it severe, dear. Just the mental torment of knowing they won't leave you alone... why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't really know. I was pretty sure I can sort this out myself. Besides, it's my last year of school so I didn't see the point. Listen, Mr. Harket. It's not your fault. And I can't say it often enough."

Mr. Harket had started to look down at his glass again.

"I know, somehow. But still... he's my son. I raised him. I'm so disappointed. And somehow, I end up blaming myself, even though I kind of know that it's not right."