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Father’s Day hasn’t meant much to Oliver in a long time.
Before the island, the day was just a forced brunch with his family while he would present a tie his mom picked out to and bow out early with a flimsy excuse.
And for a good handful of years in his life, calendar dates didn’t mean much.
The only time he had given the holiday much thought had been last summer, when the desk calendar in his new office caught his eye. He could only look at the date for a minute before the fresh wave of guilt returned, remembering the son he never knew and would never get to know.
All of that is why this Father’s Day comes by as a little bit of a surprise to him this year.
It’s been a particularly gruelling week of work, filled with paperwork and dealing with a city council that never hides how little they think of Oliver. He didn’t exactly make it any better for himself on Saturday, where he followed a few sightings matching his lost team in parts of East Asia, only to come up empty handed and hollow-hearted.
That’s why on Sunday morning, he decides to indulge himself and spend an extra hour laying in bed before he has to take on the day.
When he walks down the stairs, he’s surprised to see William already awake, hovering next to the toaster.
“Good… morning.” Oliver greets awkwardly. Truth be told, most conversations with his son feel uncomfortable, like he’s hanging on a line he isn’t sure he’ll ever be allowed to cross with the boy. Most days they hover around each other uncomfortably, only talking when necessary. Oliver wants to bond but…. It’s hard. “What’re you doing there?”
William whips his head around with wide eyes. “Hi, uh –“ he doesn’t call him dad, not that Oliver’s really expected him to, but he doesn’t really call him Oliver either. Most of the time his sentences cut off abruptly, like he too is trying to figure out where he should walk the rope and when he can jump. “I was just making breakfast but –“ he sighs in frustration. “You weren’t supposed to wake up.”
“Oh?” Oliver’s eyebrow quirks up. To any other kid, it would have been a hint of attitude. “And why is that?”
“It’s just that –“ he’s cut off by the toaster popping up what looks like a pair of frozen waffles, which makes him jump. “Hold on. Can you sit at the table and close your eyes?”
For the first time in a very, very long time, Oliver finds himself fighting a smile. He obliges, trying to ignore the sound of drawers opening and silverware being shuffled around.
It takes a few minutes, the loft mostly silent apart for one time William mutters a curse in frustration (Should Oliver protest that?) before the kid proudly announces “Okay, open your eyes.”
Oliver will swear up and down for years that he’s not prepared for the sight he’s met with when he looks.
Set on the table is a pair of waffles with fruit carefully arranged on top to make a face smiling up on him. There’s juice and coffee carefully set next to the plate and William waiting at the end, nervously playing with the ends of his flannel shirt.
“What is…” Oliver pauses, his voice suddenly feeling thick.
“I haven’t been –“ Will shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. “I know this hasn’t been easy and I just wanted to find a way to say thanks for… everything… and I thought, you know, it’s Father’s Day, so…”
Oliver’s not at all prepared for the warmth that washes over him, the unfamiliar brand of love that makes his chest tighten. He nods, trying to fight the lump forming in his throat.
“I don’t…” he shakes his head helplessly as an embarrassing pair of tears spring in his eyes. “Thank you, Will.”
His son smiles awkwardly and gestures to the plate. “Breakfast?”
Oliver chews while fighting a small smile as his son watches on with a hopeful expression. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Will that he doesn’t eat frozen waffles or that they’re not quite as toasted as it should have been.
William is crossing that line, Oliver realizes, he’s letting him know that after almost a month of pain he’s ready to move on. It’s time for Oliver to cross that line with him.
“So I… I was given box seats for the baseball game today... is that something you’d be interested in going to?” He doesn't realize how nervous the simple gesture made him until he says it, and briefly wonders if this is how William felt with the breakfast.
“Yeah.” William offers a rare smile of his own, which Oliver is all too eager to return. “That sounds really cool.”
They may not be the ideal father-son duo, but Oliver likes to think they’re getting there.