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He looked down on the unfinished rubber duck on his desk, something he’d put so many hours into, the spark that had spurred his idea smothered and gone.
Huh, guess it was one of those days huh?
He pushed his project backwards on his desk and sighed. He wouldn’t be finishing it today, he knew.
He leaned back in his chair, turning his gaze on his surroundings, as if any of it could reignite his spark, though he knew it was hopeless. It was temperamental these days, coming and going without warning, going more as time went on.
He stared around his room at the hundreds of rubber ducks that litter his room with a frown.
He barely remembered why he did this some days. What was he doing with his life? Locked away from the world, so stuck in his mind that he barely knew what day it was. Doing this?
He was King of Hell, the original dreamer, and here he was creating stupid rubber ducks? How pathetic. What’d happened to him?
He pressed his face into his hands, dragging his claws down his face with a frustrated groan.
Maybe he could benefit from a distraction.
He chewed his lip, his eyes falling on his phone that lay face down on the corner of his desk.
It had been a while since he’d heard from little Charlie. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time they’d spoken. Maybe he should call her, he missed her.
He reached out for his phone to call Charlie.
'Why would you even think she’d want to hear from you. Not after you practically abandoned her almost her whole life. You are an awful father and she’s better off without you.’
His hand paused just millimetres from the phone. A familiar voice that had been so common these days whispered in his ears. One he found himself listening to more and more after the split.
Once again he found himself listening.
Wouldn’t she? Was that true?
Yeah he’d bite his pride and admit he hadn’t been the best dad in Hell. He hadn’t been all that present in her life, but he couldn’t be that awful could he? Was he truly..awful? Was she truly better off..?
She was thriving, from all that he’d seen of her which admittedly wasn’t much and from her own phone calls that he hated to admit, he didn’t remember much of. How old was she now? What was she doing now?
His mind flashed back so long ago, to when things were…okay, not better, but just okay. Did she still have that spark in her eyes that he remembered? He couldn’t even be sure. It had been so long.
Though she did seem to be better off that was true, She seemed happy from what he’d heard, even if he hadn’t seen her in person in years. So..did that mean the rest was also true? Was he an awful father?
They had never been close, something he would always regret and wish he fought more for. But did she actually think of him that way?
He slowly pulled his hand back to his chest, his fist balled into a fist, his lip trembling.
He turned away, turning his back of the phone, head bowed.
If she was thriving without him, he didn’t want to ruin that. Because if he was an awful father, he was doing her a favour by staying distant and out of her life.
He wanted to be in her life, so badly. To make up for the time lost. To be close. He loved his daughter more than anything and wanted to be there for her. But risking hurting their already tentative relationship further, something he had already ruined? He didn’t want to do that.
So he’d stay away. It was better that way. She was better off that way.
He wouldn’t push his way into her life. Not unless she wanted him too.
If she needed something, she’d call and he would do anything she asked. If she needed him, he’d come running. He’d move Hell and Earth, even Heaven, just for her.
But until then, he’d stay away.
Even if it hurt him more than falling ever did.