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“I thought you didn’t like whiskey?” Ches asked, pouring his friend a glass of the amber liquid.
“I dislike the memories associated with whiskey. Not the taste.” Glam uttered, taking a slow sip of the amber liquid.
Whiskey was rich.
A funny thing really, his father, who was obsessed with status and wealth, his drink of choice, a high quality rich alcohol.
“Yeah but like, it’s weird dude. You just.. don’t usually drink. Everything alright?” Ches furrowed his brows, nursing his own drink as he leaned forward to try and get a read on Glam.
The blonde nodded. “Yes, I don’t drink often, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the appeal of the occasional alcoholic beverage with a friend.”
Rich, an adjective: to have great wealth or possession.
Rich, an adjective: strong and finely flavored.
Rich, an adjective: abundant, plentiful, or ample.
Rich, an adjective: Deep, strong, or vivid.
“I am perfectly fine, Ches. I’m just…. thinking.”
His father’s cologne was a rich combination of solid oak, sweet vanilla, perhaps a soft floral undertone.
Whiskey had a similar scent, very woody with vanilla undertones.
Perhaps it wasn’t cologne — rather the residual smell of his father’s favorite beverage lingering in the fibers of his suit.
Perhaps his father was better than his father past. Perhaps his father’s father was trying his best.
“Father?” Sebastian spoke softly. He was perhaps 5 or 6, around the age the ruler was first introduced into his life.
The man looked up from what he was doing, papers the boy didn’t understand the significance of. His face was illuminated by the warm glow of a fireplace. “Yes, Sebastian?” His voice laced with irritated.
“Do you hate me?”
Gustav stopped what he was doing, looking at his son. He sighed, standing up.
“You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“..I’m sorry.”
Gustav picked up the boy, carrying him back to his bedroom.
Dark oak.
Rich vanilla.
The lingering scent of the flame lit in his office.
“I don’t hate you, Sebastian.” Gustav spoke simply, tucking his son into bed.
Sebastian rolled onto his side, to look at his father.
A tense silence built.
“Father?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love me?”
Gustav didn’t love anyone.
Love was a weak emotion.
Love was a feeling reserved for women and dull men.
He was about to recite the same speech his father told him as a child, but he looked in Sebastian’s eyes, the child’s innocent gaze, hurt and fear lingering on his face.
Hesitation.
“Yes. I love you Sebastian. Very much.”
He kissed his son’s head before leaving the room.
The glass sat, empty. The rich scent of whiskey fleeing from the room, chased out by the smoke from Ches’ freshly lit jasmine incense.
Did his father mean what he said?
Or was it simply a lie to keep Glam happy?
He wasn’t sure.
He didn’t know.
He would never know.
And that was okay.
His father’s feelings and opinions of him didn’t matter now, not in this moment. Here Glam sat, with his best friend — the man who showed Glam what it meant to be loved, who showed Glam there was more to life than perfection.
His phone buzzed.
His wife, sending a photo of the kids asleep in the back of a taxi.
— Dumb + Dumber passed out LMAO.
Heading back home from the concert, u still w the rooster lmao? We’ll be home in like half an hour I think.
Glam smiled.
His wife, who showed him what a happy marriage could be.
His two sons.
He knew he wasn’t a perfect father, far from it. He made mistakes, he wishes he could go back and ensure his sons were never hurt because of his own actions.
He would never intentionally harm them, he would never strike them. Not with his hand. Not with a ruler.
He wouldn’t hesitate, if either of his children were to ask ‘Dad, do you love me?’
There would be no pause.
No tense silence.
No spilt blood.
No shame.
No lies.
No questioning if it was the truth.
‘I love you, don’t ever believe for a moment I don’t love you.”
— I’ll be home in the morning, I had some drinks with Ches. I love you Victoria, make sure Dee gets some sleep tonight. ❤️
He hoped one day, when his children were away from home they wouldn’t be upset when reminded of him. They wouldn’t have food or drink they avoided because of him.
He hoped he was better than his own father.
No, he knew he was better than his own father.