Chapter Text
Thomas looks at his son. His son, who smiles at him with joy, who is practically an adult by now.
"Papà, why aren't you saying anything?" Mattia's voice softens and the smile slowly disappears from his face.
Thomas continues to remain silent. He wants to hug Mattia, pull him close and tell him all is good. As it always is. But he can't, right now he just can't. Because he suddenly sees so much of himself in his son. But at the same time he sees everything in him that he has never been. And at this moment he doesn't even know what hurts him more.
"Do you ... do you hate me now, or ... what is it?" His voice is brittle and Mattia wipes his eyes with the back of his hand in agitation.
"No!" Thomas' voice is loud and Mattia winces briefly.
After all, they had only spoken softly before. Had only struck soft tones. Mattia had talked, beamed as he told him. Thomas had remained silent, only nodding now and then at the right words.
"But what's wrong with you then?" Mattia looks at him questioningly and Thomas actually knows how incredibly hurtful something like this can be. That he is hurting him. How you feel when you are left hanging in the air. But he also knows the other side. How it feels when you catch butterflies and your hands shake. All he wants is for his son to be happy, really happy. But it would be easier for Thomas if this happiness looked different. If it didn't knock him off his feet. He is afraid to say anything because he thinks that he could give himself away by doing or saying something trivial. That Mattia might see that it hurts him. Actually, the whole situation is just grotesque. And he would like to flee from it, shaking hands for another reason than hapiness completely.
"I could never hate you." For a few seconds he is afraid that he has hesitated too long and keeps his eyes closed.
Mattia has probably long since disappeared and wishes he had never said a word about it. Thomas first only feels a rush of air and then how Mattia pulls him into an embrace. Clinging to
him tightly.
"Thanks!" Thomas hears the relief from that one word quite clearly.
He opens his eyes again.
"You don't have to thank me for that." Thomas smiles slightly, crooked. Mattia looks at him, a tiny crooked smile of his own on his face. And he sees that his eyes are almost shining again. For a moment, he sees himself again, until a moment later there is already no trace of it again. Not even a little bit.
"You're really okay, papà?" He hears the slight concern in Mattia's voice.
"I'm fine. Don't worry, paperotto." Thomas starts to smile slightly again. Hoping that he will succeed with the effort. Hoping that people will buy that smile too. Mattia outshines him anyway. And Thomas is absolutely sure at that moment that Mattia is one of the best things he has ever accomplished in his life.