Chapter Text
“Dad! Dad, wake up!”
The sound of cheap blinds rattling was the only warning Johnny got before sunlight pierced his eyelids. He groaned and rolled toward the back of the couch, pulling the thin blanket up over his head as he went in a feeble attempt to shield himself from the sudden assault of light.
It didn’t work. It also did nothing to stop the assault of tiny, insistent hands that were yanking on his arm, trying to shake him awake.
“Dad? Hey, Dad? Are you awake? C’mon, you have to get up! It’s Halloween!”
He barely got one eye cracked open before 45-lbs of excitable 6-year-old landed squarely on his chest. Johnny yelped in pain and sat up bolt upright. He had to grab the back of Robby’s Spider-Man pajamas to keep him from tumbling to the floor.
The boy gasped in shock when the blanket fell away from his face. “Whoa! What happened?!” Robby whisper-shouted, his big, green eyes almost comically wide. Mouth still agape, he prodded at the bruising around Johnny’s right eye socket with one pointy, intrusive little finger.
“Accident. Ran into someone’s fist,” Johnny grunted, still half asleep. His eye must’ve swollen shut overnight, because he couldn’t seem to pry it open, no matter how hard he tried. He blindly batted his son’s hand away from it and tried to yank the blanket back up.
“Again??” Robby’s tone was far too judgmental for a fucking first grader. “Have you tried ducking?”
Before Johnny could come up with a response to that, or even get his good eye fully open, Robby had already climbed off him and disappeared into the kitchen. The sudden movement sent a fresh jolt of pain through his aching ribs. Worried he was going to be sick all over his (admittedly, already filthy) carpet, Johnny flopped back down on the couch’s sunken cushions and focused on taking slow, deep breaths.
As he rode out the wave of nausea, he listened to the sounds of his son moving around the cramped space of their apartment. The soft patter of bare feet on threadbare carpet, followed by the scrape of chair legs being dragged across the sticky linoleum. Johnny winced at the harsh squeal and screwed his eyes shut against the renewed throbbing in his skull.
Fuck. His head hadn’t hurt this bad since that weekend in Reno with the guys. God, he fuckin’ wished he could blame his headache on a hangover this time. At least if he was hungover, it would’ve meant he had some fun last night.
“Robby, don’t…” Johnny weakly groaned as he heard the freezer door open. He tried to sit up again, but his back screamed in protest at the sudden movement. His stomach churned and the room started to spin again. “What’ve I told you about climbing on things? You’re gonna fall. Then we’ll have to go to the ER. Broken bones are expensive, kid.”
And they really fucking hurt. Johnny could attest to that. Every breath he took felt like a fresh stab to the chest. While Robby had his back turned, he slipped a hand under the blanket and felt of his sore ribs. Sure enough, the right side was tender and hot to the touch. When he gently pressed down, he felt a telltale crunch.
Well, shit. At least it didn’t feel displaced. No point in wasting money on a doctor. Not that he’d planned on going, anyway.
“I’m not gonna fall!” Robby replied with all the unshakeable confidence of child, his voice muffled inside the icy depths of the freezer. “I’m not clumsy like you.”
“Clumsy, my ass. I’m not fuckin’ clumsy,” Johnny muttered under his breath, seconds before a bag of frozen peas was unceremoniously dropped on his face. “OW!! What the hell?!” he yelped, scrambling to get it off. “Holy shit, that’s cold!”
“You said we’re not supposed to use those words,” Robby chided, stubbornly holding the makeshift icepack in place. He frowned in concentration, tongue poking out from between his missing front teeth. “Stop wiggling and hold still!”
“No, I said you’re not supposed to use those words. I’m an adult, so I’m allowed to use them all I fucking want. Now, gimme that!” he snapped, irritably snatching the bag of peas from his little hands.
Robby’s face fell and he took a hesitant step backward. Johnny winced again, and not because of the cold or the lancing pain in his skull. Feeling even more like garbage than he already had, he heaved a weary sigh and carefully scooted over to make some room.
“C’mere,” he coaxed, forcing a smile as he patted the cushion next to him. “It’s okay, I’m not mad.”
Not at Robby, at least. At himself and at fucking Shannon and the whole rest of the shit-ass world, sure. But never at Robby.
“Promise?” Robby asked, his lip still quivering, eyes shining with unshed tears. His hands twisted together nervously as he took a tentative step closer.
With a low groan, Johnny finally managed to sit up. He coaxed Robby closer and pulled him into a tight hug. It made his ribs ache, but they didn’t hurt half as much as his heart, seeing that sad, fearful look on his kid’s face and knowing he was the one who put it there.
“Promise,” Johnny assured him, holding out his hand for a pinky swear. “Sorry I snapped at you, kiddo. I had a rough night, but that’s no excuse. I know you’re just trying to help.”
Looking somewhat appeased, Robby hooked their pinkies together and shook them, before snuggling in for another hug. Johnny pressed a kiss to the top of his head and buried his nose in his baby-soft hair. He rested his cheek atop it and held him close, until Robby finally let go and squirmed out of his grasp.
Still sniffling a little, he plopped down onto the cushion beside him. He bit his lip, his brow furrowed as he examine Johnny’s busted face. “Does it hurt?” he asked, retrieving the bag of peas from the floor and gingerly placing it back over his swollen eye. “Cuz it looks like it hurts. A lot.”
“This? Nah, this is nothing. You should the other guys,” Johnny flippantly replied, trying to erase that worried look from Robby’s face. He hated it, it reminded him of how his mom used to look at him when came home from karate class with a split lip or a bloody nose.
But unlike with her, blowing off Robby’s concerns didn’t work. He didn’t think it was possible, but the kid’s eyes went even wider.
“Guy-th?” Robby asked, putting extra emphasis on the ‘S.’ With his missing teeth, it came out with an adorable little lisp.
Johnny mentally kicked himself for saying anything – the kid worried about him enough as it was, he did not need to know the finer details of his job.
“What are you doing up so early, anyway?” Johnny yawned, hastily changing the subject. “It’s still…” He squinted his good eye at the small, shitty television screen. It’d still been on when he came home from work late last night. The babysitter must’ve forgotten to turn it off before she left, and he hadn’t had the energy when he came in to look for the remote.
Hell, he hadn’t even had the energy to make it to his own bed. Or to take off his shoes, for that matter.
It’d been a really long night.
It took him a second, but the blurry images finally coalesced and came into focus. The Today Show was on and Al Roker was giving the weather. The time in the bottom corner said it was barely 6:00 a.m. Johnny let his head fall back with another groan.
“Christ, it’s still almost two hours before you have to be at school! Go back to bed.”
“But it’s Halloween!” Robby protested, sticking his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout.
“Exactly. It ain’t Christmas morning, kid. You’re supposed to celebrate Halloween at night,” Johnny reminded him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “With the rest of the ghouls and goblins.”
“Hey! I am not a goblin!” Robby scowled, ducking out of his reach.
“That’s right, I forgot - you’re a gremlin!” Johnny teased, unable to stifle another wide yawn. God, he was tired. He couldn’t remember what time he finally stumbled in, but he felt like he’d barely slept at all. He knew it couldn’t’ve been more than an hour or two. “So, what’s the real reason you’re up? Did you have a nightmare or something? Need me to scare away the monster in your closet again?”
Robby bit his lip, suddenly turning shy. “Wanted to ask you somethin’, and Uncle Bobby said if I asked while you were still half asleep, you might not realize what you’re agreeing to and say yes,” he said in a mumbled rush.
“Uncle Bobby said that, huh?” Johnny said sourly, raising one eyebrow.
“Uh-huh. And he gave me this!” Robby pulled a crumpled flyer out from under one of the lumpy throw pillows, like he’d hid it there, just waiting for his moment. He thrust it into Johnny’s hands, his eyes shining with excitement. “Can we go, Dad? Please??”
Johnny straightened out the paper and tried to focus on the words. Even once they stopped swimming around the page, they still didn’t make much sense to him.
“What the hell’s a Trunk-or-Treat?”
“It’s part of the Fall Festival at Uncle Bobby’s church!” Robby said in a breathless rush, pointing to the cartoonish illustration at the center of the page. A pumpkin-headed scarecrow danced arm-in-arm with a grinning skeleton. “People decorate their cars, and they’re gonna give out candy, and have a haunted hayride, and games, and face painting, and they’re having a costume contest! Can I be a Ninja Turtle? Can I? Puh-leeeease??”
Robby was practically vibrating with excitement. He bounced up and down where he sat, making the sofa springs squeak beneath them. Johnny winced as the motion jarred his sore ribs. He quickly put a hand on his son’s shoulder to still him.
“Robby...” he started, heart sinking as he prepared to let the kid down. Again. It was starting to feel like that was all he ever did. “I have to work again tonight, you know that.”
“But the carnival’s at five, and your shift doesn’t start ‘til nine!” Robby interrupted, pointing to the work schedule that Johnny had stuck to the fridge with a Coors magnet. God, what he wouldn’t give for a cold beer right now. “I read it all by myself,” he added, proudly puffing out his little chest.
Dammit. Life was so much easier before the little gremlin learned to read. Still, his packed schedule was only one part of the problem. The other, larger part was his empty bank account. Money was already tight. How could he justify spending what little they had on a flimsy, overpriced costume that Robby would probably only wear once before he grew out of it?
But he couldn’t tell Robby that. He didn’t want him to know just how bad things really were. After all, what was the point in worrying him? It wasn’t like the kid could do anything about it. He couldn’t go out and get a job to help pay their bills – he was pretty sure there were child labor laws that prevented that kind of thing.
No, Robby didn’t need to know that most of his school clothes had come from the donation bin at Bobby’s church. Or that his dad was routinely skipping meals, just so there’d be enough store-brand peanut butter and day-old bread to pack his lunch.
And he definitely didn’t need to know that they were one missed paycheck away from living in the Firebird.
Ignorance was bliss. Robby’d had a difficult time adjusting after his mom left. Johnny didn’t want to make things even harder on him. But he also had to be responsible. Which, admittedly, was kind of a new concept to him. But still. If it came down to keeping a roof over their heads or celebrating a silly holiday, Johnny knew which one he had to choose.
He just had to find a way to let Robby down easy, that was all.
“You know, this is kinda last minute,” Johnny started, gentling his tone. “Maybe if Uncle Bobby had told me about this a few weeks ago, I could’ve –”
“He tried,” Robby interrupted. “But you were always asleep when he called, and you said not to wake you up unless the building was on fire or someone was dying.”
Johnny ran a hand over his unshaven face. He didn’t remember putting it quite that harshly, but… yeah. He probably did say that. His work schedule lately had been brutal. Working nights was really starting to take a toll on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friends – most days it felt like he barely saw the sun.
On a normal day, he got home from work between 3 and 4 a.m., only to have to turn around and get Robby ready for school by 7:30. One of his neighbors usually dropped Robby off for him – she was a nice lady, a single mom who had a daughter about Robby’s age that went to the same elementary school. As long as he chipped in for gas money, she didn’t mind taking him, too.
That gave Johnny the chance to hustle over to the nearest Home Depot, to stand on the corner with the other day laborers and try to pick up some extra work. If he was lucky, he’d get a job. If he wasn’t, he’d go home and catch a few blessed hours of shut eye. Then he’d get up and run any errands that needed doing before he picked Robby up at 3:30. After all that, he’d take him home, try to help him with his homework if he had any, fix him dinner, and wait for the sitter to show.
Then he’d start the whole process all over again.
It was a grueling way to exist. He’d only been doing the whole single parent thing for about ten months, and he was already exhausted, both physically and mentally. For years, he’d resented his mother for marrying Sid, for choosing his money and the security it offered over her child’s happiness. But he thought he understood her reasoning a little better now. Because if a sugar daddy suddenly swept him off his feet, flashed some cash, and offered to make all of his problems go away?
He was pretty sure he’d say yes in a heartbeat. He could be a kept man. For the right price.
But that ship had sailed years ago. No one was looking for a rundown, forty-year-old sugar baby, especially one with a kid. There was about as much likelihood of that happening as Robby letting the whole Halloween thing go.
Sure enough, he was still looking at him expectantly, his eyes wide and full of hope. “Please, dad? It says here that the carnival ends at eight. We don’t even have to stay the whole time! Just for a little while. I won’t make you late for work again, I promise.”
In his head, Johnny cursed Bobby to hell and back. Because as much as he hated to tell Robby no, there was no way he could justify the extra expense. Not right now, when he was barely managing to keep a roof over their heads.
And Bobby knew that, goddamn him. It was shitty for him to get Robby’s hopes up. The second Robby left for school, he was gonna call that bald bastard and give him a piece of his mind. Because as good as his intentions might’ve been, it felt like he was deliberately setting him up for failure.
He didn’t need any help in that department. He was failing spectacularly, all on his own. At adulthood, at fatherhood, at life in general…
“…and can I be Donatello? He’s the purple one, with the staff.” Robby babbled, blissfully unaware of his dad’s latest existential crisis. When Johnny didn’t respond, he tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. “And if you can’t find him, I guess Leonardo’s okay, too. Hey! Hey Dad, are you listening to me?”
Johnny could feel the tears of frustration pricking at his eyes. He blinked them back and forced another smile. Time to try another tactic.
“Purple, right,” he said absently, struggling to focus through the haze of pain and mounting anxiety. “You know, at this late date, I bet all the really cool costumes are already gone. Like, there probably aren’t any Ninja Turtles left. And if there are, they probably won’t be your size. Maybe if we wait and go to next year’s party, I can get you a really badass costume so you can win that contest. How about that?”
Robby looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “But I don’t care about winning. I just wanna go.”
It took all of Johnny’s willpower to not roll his one good eye. Jesus. Didn’t care about winning? Sometimes he really wondered if this kid was even his. Sure, he had the DNA test results to prove it, but those things could be faked, right?
They did it all the time on Days of our Lives.
But, no. The determined set of Robby’s shoulders, the stubborn jut of his lower lip… there was no doubting it. He was definitely his, alright. Johnny’s mom used to say that someday, she wished he’d have a kid just as headstrong and exasperating as he himself had been as a child. Said it would serve him right, after all the hell he’d put her through.
It appeared she’d gotten her wish. Too bad she wasn’t around to gloat about it.
More than ever, Johnny wished that she was. Because he had no idea what to do. Robby wasn’t going to give up, and he also wasn’t going to forgive him if he said no. The kid was just starting to come around to him, and he feared the disappointment would ruin what little progress he’d made.
He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and it was starting to feel like he’d have to chew his own arm off to get out of it.
Or maybe he was just gonna have to cinch up his belt another notch or two. He could do without a few more meals, if it would keep that kicked puppy look off of Robby’s face. It would be fine.
He’d make it work. He always did.
“So, what time does this Trick or Truck thing start again?” Johnny asked, flopping back against the couch’s lumpy cushions with a defeated sigh.
“At five!” Robby reminded him, pointing at the pertinent info on the crumpled flyer. “It’s right there, see?” he said, helpfully holding it right under his nose.
Johnny did not see. Actually, he was pretty sure he was seeing double. But before he could explain that daddy was a little too concussed to read words right now, Robby finally put two and two together and realized that he’d caved.
Didn’t care about winning, his ass.
“Do you mean it?” Robby gasped, kneeling up on the couch to meet Johnny at eye-level, the flyer clutched to his chest. “Can we really go?”
“Yeah, Munchkin. We can go. But! –” he quickly added, catching Robby before he could throw his arms around his neck in a celebratory hug. “We can only stay for an hour or two, got it?”
“Got it!” Robby answered, already vibrating with excitement. “And what about my costume? Can I be a Ninja Turtle? Can I?”
“Look, I’ll see what I can find, but no promises, okay?” Johnny said, trying to manage the boy’s expectations. “I wasn’t bullshitting you. It really is last minute, I don’t know what the stores will still have left at this point. But I’ll do my best. Do you have any backups in mind, in case I can’t find what you want? Hey, what about Spider-man? You like him, right?” he said, eyeballing Robby’s pajamas.
Now that might solve his problem. If he could just convince Robby that Spider-man was cooler than the stupid fucking Ninja Turtles, he could wear his PJs and call it good. Sure, they were getting too small for him. They were a little (okay, a lot) faded and too short at the ankle and wrist. But Halloween costumes never fit right, either, in his experience. He’d just have to come up with some kind of mask and they’d be golden.
Unfortunately for him, not only could his kid read, it seemed he could also read minds. Robby saw his considering look and frowned.
“Daaaaad! I can’t wear my pajamas to go trick-or-treating!”
“Why not? Peter Parker fights crime in his.”
“Dad!”
“And Superman flies around in his underwear, but he’s still a badass. I mean, if it’s good enough for two honest-to-goodness superheroes, it should be good enough for you, right?”
Robby crossed his arms over his chest and leveled him with an unimpressed look. Johnny recognized it immediately. It was the same one Shannon used to give him every time he came up with another lame excuse for missing one of Robby’s doctor’s appointments or soccer practices.
“Stupid Ninja Turtles don’t even wear pants,” Johnny grumbled under his breath. “Fine! No pajamas, then. But seriously, do you have a second choice? How ‘bout a nice, gruesome zombie? Or a vampire? A good ol’ fashioned ghost? No?” He sighed when Robby vehemently shook his head ‘no’ to every suggestion he made. “It’s a turtle or nothin’, huh?”
“Donatello,” Robby solemnly reminded him.
“Donatello. Gotcha,” Johnny repeated, around a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’ll see what I can – OOF! Hey, watch it, kiddo. Gently!” he warned, as Robby threw himself into his arms and gave him a rib-crushing squeeze.
“Thanks, dad!” he said, the words muffled in Johnny’s neck. “I love you.”
Johnny’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d said those three little words to Robby hundreds of times since the boy came to live with him. He didn’t know much about parenting at first – still didn’t, if he was being completely honest. Most of the time, he felt like he was flying blind. But he knew how he’d felt when his own dad had abandoned him.
Unwanted and unloved.
It was an awful feeling, one that’d burrowed deep inside his heart and made a home in the cold, cobwebbed corners where his dad’s love should’ve been. And it’d never really left. He carried it with him everywhere, every day of his life. That horrible, nagging doubt that there was something wrong with him. That he wasn’t enough for anyone. That he was a born loser, and that’s why his dad had left.
That’s why everyone left.
And maybe that was all true. It probably was. He was, objectively speaking, a pretty awful person. But Robby wasn’t. He was sweet, and kind, and so fucking smart. He didn’t deserve to feel that way. So, every day since Shannon had left, Johnny had made a point of saying it out loud. At least once. I love you. Just so Robby knew he was still loved and wanted.
But until that moment, he’d never heard it back.
He’d tried not to let it bother him. Most days, he just considered himself lucky that Robby didn’t seem to outright hate him anymore. He’d heard that a lot, especially in those first few months, when they were still trying to get used to each other.
You can’t tell me what to do! I hate you! I want my mom!
He couldn’t lie, that’d hurt. But Johnny also couldn’t blame the kid for feeling that way. Afterall, it wasn’t Robby’s fault he hadn’t been there for the first five years of his life. That they were practically strangers to each other. The only one to blame for that was himself. He’d wasted so much time, missed so many moments and milestones. Gotten so lost in his own grief that he forgot to live.
He forgot that he still had someone to live for.
So he said it. And he kept saying it, over and over and over again. Trying to make up for all those times he wasn’t there to say it. To make up for Shannon not being around to say it now. It didn’t matter that Robby never said it back. The kid didn’t have to love him in return.
All that mattered was that he knew he was loved.
Or at least that’s what Johnny told himself to get through the long, difficult days. But now, hearing Robby actually say those words? He knew he’d do anything to hear them again. He’d buy him a hundred stupid Ninja Turtle costumes, if that’s what it took.
He’d figure something out. You only needed one kidney, right? Dutch probably knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew about black market organ harvesting…
“Dad, are you crying?”
Johnny buried his face in Robby’s baby-soft hair to hide his tears and hugged him even tighter. “Who, me? Never. Just got something in my eye, that’s all.”
Robby wriggled free and stared up at his bruised face, his big green eyes full of concern. “Yeah, a fist! You said it didn’t hurt! You lied!” he accused, poking a finger in Johnny’s sternum. “Lying is wrong.”
“I’m not lying,” Johnny lied.
“Now you’re lying about not lying.” Robby crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his lower lip out in a comical pout. “That’s like, double lying!”
“Didn’t I ever tell you that pain don’t hurt?”
“Da-aaad!! That doesn’t even make sense! It does too hurt! Remember when I fell off my skateboard and skinned my knee? It hurt like a bitch.”
“Hey! Language!” Johnny warned, ruffling Robby’s hair.
“What? That’s what you said when you dropped your toolbox on your foot.”
Johnny groaned and covered his face with both hands. Why did his kid have to be so damn perceptive? He couldn’t get away with anything anymore. Robby picked up on everything.
“So, whaddya want for breakfast?” he asked from between his fingers, hoping to change the subject.
Lucky for him, breakfast was Robby’s favorite, so he took the bait.
“Pancakes!” he squealed, his whole face lighting up in a snaggle-toothed grin. “With chocolate chips!”
“How ‘bout a Pop Tart, instead?” Johnny counter offered with a wide yawn. “I think there’s still a package of those s’mores ones you like.”
Robby’s face fell, and Johnny’s heart sank right along with it. He would’ve given just about anything to give Robby the big, delicious homemade breakfast he deserved. But the fact of the matter was, their cupboards were almost bare. He was supposed to have gone to the store the previous afternoon, but the landscaping job he’d picked up had taken longer than expected and he’d run out of time. As it was, he’d been late picking Robby up from school. He’d rushed into the receptionists office almost an hour after pick-up time, still covered in sweat and dirt and smelling like fertilizer. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to apologize or explain his situation before the principal had jumped down his throat.
Mr. Lawrence, this is the second time this week that you’ve been an hour or more late picking Robby up. The fifth time this month. It’s one thing to occasionally be a few minutes late due to traffic, but this is becoming habitual with you. Quite frankly, your behavior shows a total disregard for our staff and their time, not to mention neglect of your son. If you’re incapable of picking him up in a timely manner, then you need to make arrangements for someone else to do it for you. If you fail to do so and this continues, then I’m afraid I will be forced to turn this matter over to social services.
She didn’t give him a chance to explain that there was no one else. He had no remaining family to call on, and the few friends he had either lived too far away to help or had busy lives of their own.
(Or in Dutch’s case, was doing a nickel up at Lompoc for felony assault, but the less said about that, the better.)
Paying someone to pick him up wasn’t an option, either. Nor was putting him in an after school program. That kind of thing cost money, and he could barely scrape enough together to pay the sitter who watched Robby in the evenings while he was at work.
He didn’t know what he was going to do. If the school ended up calling social services, he knew there was good chance he might end up losing Robby. And that thought was unbearable. As long as it’d taken him to step up and accept responsibility, and as difficult as fatherhood could be at times, he couldn’t imagine his life now without Robby in it.
There was no other option. He just had to do better. Because he couldn’t fail. Not this time.
If he did, if he lost him…
Small hands framed his face and gently patted his cheeks. He realized with a start that they felt wet.
“It’s okay, Dad. Pop Tarts are just as good as pancakes,” Robby assured him, before throwing his chubby little arms around his neck.
“Now who’s the liar?” Johnny said with a watery laugh. As he wrapped him up in a tight hug, he wondered: Where had Robby gotten that big, kind heart of his? Because it sure wasn’t from him.
From his Grandma Laura, maybe. They said some traits skipped a generation.
After another moment to collect himself, Johnny pulled back and looked his son in the eye. “Now, I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t gotta lie to make me feel better, okay? Not ever.”
Robby bit his lip. “But Mrs. Murphree says sometimes, it’s okay to lie to spare someone else’s feelings.”
Johnny combed Robby’s hair back off his forehead with his fingers. “Well, you don’t have to spare mine, okay? You can always be honest with me. Your old man is tough, I can take it.”
Robby nodded for a second, then –
“I’m sick of Pop Tarts,” he blurted out, his eyes going wide when he realized he’d admitted it out loud.
“Yeah, that makes two of us, kid.” Johnny chuckled sadly.
He glanced over Robby’s head at the TV, where a McDonald’s commercial was advertising McGriddles and hashbrowns. His empty stomach rumbled at the sight.
In the back of his mind, an idea started to form. He couldn’t afford to go too crazy, especially if he had to buy a costume, but maybe he could splurge a little. At least get breakfast for Robby, and maybe a cup of coffee for himself.
After all, if he was going last-second costume hunting on Halloween, he was going to need some caffeine.
With a forced smile, he returned his attention to his son. “Hey, whaddya say we give Ms. Nichols a day off and I take you to school today?” he asked, bouncing Robby on his knee.
“Really?” Robby asked, his eyes lighting up. “Just us?”
“Really. Just you and me, buddy. We can stop by McDonald’s on the way and grab some breakfast. How ‘bout that?”
For one, fleeting moment, Robby beamed at him brighter than the sun. But Johnny only got to enjoy the warmth of his smile for a second before it suddenly dimmed.
“But…” Robby started, gnawing on his lower lip.
God, how he hated seeing the worry on his face. “No ‘buts’,” Johnny said, cutting off whatever protest he was about to make. “We’re going. Now, how ‘bout you go pick out something to wear while I run through the shower, hmm?”
“You do stink,” Robby agreed, wrinkling his nose. “Can I wear my skeleton shirt?”
“Duh, it’s Halloween, isn’t it?” Johnny scoffed, ruffling his hair. “Go on, get dressed, you little demon.”
Robby gave him another quick hug, then climbed down off his lap and ran back to his room. Johnny waited until he was out of earshot before he attempted to get up himself. He didn’t last two seconds before he collapsed back onto the couch with a low groan; he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to muffle the sound and closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning.
Okay, so maybe taking Robby to school himself was a bad idea. But he’d already promised, and he wasn’t about to back down. Robby was so smart, and he was already so worried. More worried than any six year old had a right to be. The last thing he wanted to do was give him more reason to be concerned.
It was fine. He was okay. Everything was going to be okay. Pain did not exist in this shitbox apartment. He just had to power through. He just needed another minute, that was all.
Maybe two.
With that thought in mind, Johnny blindly groped around until he found the forgotten bag of frozen peas and slapped it back over his eyes. But he didn’t even get a chance to enjoy the cool, numbing relief before Robby’s high-pitched voice pierced through the silence like a hot knife.
“Da-aaaad! Help! I can’t find my shirt! Did it get washed?”
“Fuck,” Johnny muttered under his breath, tossing the makeshift ice pack aside. He stared up at the brown water stain on the ceiling above the coffee table, took a deep breath, and counted backwards from ten.
“Dad! Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah! Be there in a second,” Johnny called back, before finally pushing himself up off the battered couch cushions. He swayed a bit, but this time, he was at least able to stay on his feet.
Which was good, because he had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.