Work Text:
Mike had just celebrated his 44th birthday 2 months ago, celebrating it with his family, friends, and some of his closest co-workers. He should be happy, should be glad he's been alive for 4 decades and 4 years, should be celebrating, and yet, he's just hunched over his desk—as usual.
A sunny afternoon has finally (unknowingly to Mike) ticked while he writes the final chapter of his upcoming book. As sappy as it sounded, he was heavily inspired by his shortcomings as a boyfriend and as a best friend in the past. He's wondered if his readers have caught up with his typical story plotlines. Nonetheless, he continued to write them. He figured that maybe, just maybe, one day Will might actually re— wait, no. That wasn't his intentions in the first place.
The sun gleams through his window over his desk, it was a beautiful day, really. He should be outside playing with his kids or even help his wife with chores, and in spite of that he's still just hunched up over his desk and miserably thinking how to poetically end his final chapter. He thinks and figures, his fingertips hovering over each keys, trying to find the right words to end it. 'In the end, who gets to define love, when love itself is subjective?' Delete. Delete. Delete. That's way too cringe, he thinks. His fingertips hover around the keys as if it were preparing for a tango. As soon as he got the most poetic line he could think of, his train of thought was suddenly interrupted.
"Dad! Mom's been calling you." Mike's 5 year old daughter angrily stomps towards him and relentlessly taps her foot on the ground of Mike's office. An area in the house that seemed the least welcoming—well, to others, not to Mike. His chair suddenly whirls around to face his daughter who looked exactly like her mother, except for the haircut, he told his wife to specifically have her hair look like an overgrown bowlcut, he figured it looked cute. Her hair was chestnut brown like her mother's and curly—just like his.
"Ah, yes, yes, I'm sorry Lilo. What was your mother calling me for?" Mike asks gently as he finally stood up from his hell of a desk, and stretches. His joints and bones crack when he turned his back; who knew aging would catch up much faster when you're just crouched by your desk figuring out how to end your long awaited book.
"She's been telling you to enroll me in school, dad! It's been 3 days since she mentioned it," Lilo looked up at him defiantly with her arms crossed and her silly bowlcut, of which reminded him of—
"Oh! Shit, shit, it's been 3 days?" Mike asks immediately while his long fingers frantically run through his hair—its been his mannerism ever since he grew up— his fingers entangle through his black curly hair. He immediately scurries and grabs his bag, that hung over his office chair. "Okay, okay, come on," he grabs his daughter's hand and strides his long legs downstairs.
"Mil?" He calls out a from the living room. And before he was about to lose his marbles, his wife walks in from the kitchen with the apron around her waist looking very displeased.
"Michael. I have been telling you to enroll Lilo for the past 3 days, for God's sake." His wife exasperatedly sighed as she walks over to the drawer near the tv, that housed many different kinds of things. Of which, included his daughter's needed documents to enroll.
"Right. No, yeah, I'm sorry. I've been having trouble with my book, lately." Mike swallows thickly as he stares at his wife. He's felt remorseful for the past few weeks for the way he's been acting towards his wife—especially after his debriefing session last 2 weeks ago.
He stares at his wife silently, pursing his lips, as if he was going to say something, but remained hushed. He quietly stood still and scratching the back of his neck, while his wife mutters words under her breath with a scowling look. Unconsciously, he didn't even realize he was holding his daughter's hand too harshly.
"Dad! Ouchie, that hurts," Lilo frowns up at him and tries to free herself from her dad's harsh grip. She shifts away from her dad's hand and crosses them. Her eyes dart between her parents, of which ahe can only assume are getting into a heated argument—soon—one way or another, they will.
"ah, Lilo, I'm so sorry. Dad's been kind of–"
"Ignoring his responsibilities. " His wife cuts him off and hands him the documents by lightly pushing his chest.
Mike sighs and internally rolls his eyes, "look, Mil, I know haven't been too connected lately, but it's just the stress getting to me, okay?" Mike uttered gently while pulling his wife by the waist closer.
"It's a book, Michael. I'm sure your publisher can go a day without updates from your damned book." Mil scowls and pushes Mike away gingerly. "Besides, I'm starting to feel like I'm the only parent around here. I cook and I still clean even after I just got back home from work. It's been months since this started. It's because of that stupid book, isn't it?" Mil furrows her brows and grits her teeth. She crosses her arms and faintly look him up and down.
Mike was beyond offended by his wife's statement. First of all, she's making it seem like his choice of career was greatly affecting their relationship (which probably was after he's heard those words that came out of her mouth.) Second of all, she's downplaying his work—his art. Ofcourse writing takes time, how does she think good books come into existence?
"Are you implying—you know what, forget it. Come on, Lilo. Dad might forget about this again if we dont get going soon." Mike mutters under his breath. He takes his daughter's hand in his again and glared at Mil, before walking out the door with long and calculated strides.
Once they were in the driveway and Mike's getting his daughter's car seat all buckled up and ready, she spoke beside him. "Why do you and mom fight so often?" She says quietly and even sounding unsure as she spoke. Silently clinging onto her dad's leg as she did so.
"We weren't fighting, Lilo. She and I were—were having a debrief." Mike replies, sounding more hoarse than intended. He picks her up from the ground effortlessly, and gently buckled her into her car seat.
"But you never glare at mom, unless it's a fight," Lilo remarks.
"It was an unconscious action." He replies dismissively, before climbing onto the driver's seat.
Lilo only hummed in response and gazed out the window; she's always wondered how she got her name. She just presumed it was derived from her dad's favorite tree. He does have a worryingly amount of certain trees in his office.
"Dad?" Lilo hums while her eyes continued to follow the passing cars and poles. Her eyes imagining a girl with superpowers who's surfing through the power lines with ease.
"Yes, Lilo?" Mike responds and looks at her through the rear view mirror for a brief moment, then returned back to the road.
"How did I get my name?"