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Time flies. It feels like only yesterday that a tiny, wobbly figure was toddling toward Law's leg-and now that same little person is old enough to carry a small backpack and step into a wider world.
At the dinner table, Law put down his fork and calmly brought up a topic they had discussed many times but never had the heart to act on. "Shanks, Lawrie is about ready for kindergarten. I've contacted that well-regarded international preschool nearby. The environment and staff are excellent. We can tour it next week."
Before the words fully landed, there was a clatter-Shanks's soup spoon fell into his bowl. He looked up sharply, his usually bright, laughing red eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears. Like a big dog who'd just learned his favorite toy was about to be taken away, his face was a picture of disbelief and imminent heartbreak.
"K-kindergarten?" Shanks's voice cracked. He instinctively pulled Lawrie-who was diligently twirling spaghetti with his fork-closer to his side, as if the child might be snatched away at any second. "But... but he's still so young! Law, can't we wait a little longer? He does so well at the office! Everyone loves him. Beckman says he's our little ray of sunshine. He has his own play area there, more toys than any kindergarten! I can bring more work home, spend more time with him..."
Law looked at him calmly, unmoved. "He's over three now, Shanks. He needs systematic early education. He needs to interact with children his own age, learn rules and social skills. Spending all day in your office with adults isn't good for his development."
"But-" Shanks tried to argue, then looked down at his son, his voice turning pitiful. "Lawrie, isn't Papa's office fun? Don't you want to be with Papa every day? We can build bigger forts, watch cooler documentaries. Papa will buy you the newest model construction vehicles..."
Lawrie swallowed his spaghetti, looked up at Shanks with his big, amber-gold eyes, and reached out a small hand to pat Shanks's chin-though he could barely reach. Just like Papa did when comforting him.
"Papa's office is fun, and I do love being with Papa," Lawrie said seriously. "But Daddy is right. I want to... 'explore' new places! There will be lots of other kids in kindergarten, right? I want to make new friends, play on the slide, sing songs, draw pictures... Like how I know all the uncles and aunties at the company, but with kids!" His eyes sparkled with curiosity about the unknown-a natural, growing desire that no amount of toys or indulgence could fully satisfy.
Shanks was stunned. His son's well-reasoned, adventure-filled declaration left him without a comeback. He could only hold Lawrie tighter, burying his face in the soft red hair, letting out something between a groan and a whimper. "But Papa will miss you... Every single day... Without seeing you, Papa won't have the energy to work..."
Law watched his alpha acting so pathetic, a vein throbbing faintly at his temple. Yet deep down, he was touched by that unguarded, almost clumsy intensity of paternal love. He sighed, softening his tone but not his stance. "It's only during the day. We'll pick him up in the afternoon. Weekends and holidays, we're all together. Shanks, children have to grow up. We can't keep him tied to us forever."
Lawrie hugged Shanks's neck and, imitating Law's soothing tone, said in his soft little voice, "Don't be sad, Papa. I'll learn fun things at kindergarten and teach you! I'll draw you lots of pictures and sing new songs! And I'll miss you lots and lots every day!" He thought for a moment, then added, "Papa can miss me too, but you have to work hard and earn money to buy me lots and lots of ice cream!"
That childish bargaining finally made Shanks laugh through his tears, though the smile was a bit wobbly. He knew Law was right. Lawrie himself wanted to go. No matter how reluctant he felt, he couldn't stop his child from exploring the world. He just... needed a little time to accept it.
In the days that followed, a heavy atmosphere hung over the top-floor executive office of the Figarland Group. Shanks often zoned out while handling documents, his gaze drifting to the empty children's play area in the corner. During meetings, he was distracted, occasionally sighing as he stared at photos of Lawrie on his phone. He ate less than usual at lunch, as if a part of his vitality had been drained away.
One afternoon, Shamrock walked into the president's office with an urgent document to sign. He found Shanks staring at a photo on his computer screen-Lawrie laughing with his whole face, eyes squeezed shut-and sighing dramatically. Shamrock's brow furrowed instantly. He slapped the document down on the desk.
"Shanks, if you can't focus on business, I don't mind temporarily taking over this part of the work. The details of the merger need to be finalized immediately, not delayed while you put on a show of father-son devotion."
Startled, Shanks looked up and met his older brother's displeased red eyes. His sense of grievance surged. "Shammy! How can you say that! Lawrie starts kindergarten next week! He's so small, about to face a strange environment all alone, so many unfamiliar people... What if someone bullies him? What if he gets homesick and cries? What if-" His imagination ran wild, his eyes reddening again.
Shamrock listened expressionlessly. When Shanks finally ran out of steam, he spoke, cold and precise. "One: The kindergarten was professionally evaluated and personally toured by you two. Its safety and educational quality are assured. Two: Lawrie is three years and four months old. He has basic communication and adaptability skills. Based on his previous 'exploratory' behavior, his curiosity and ability to adjust to new environments far exceed those of his peers. Three: Overprotection is detrimental to the formation of an independent personality. Your anxiety, besides affecting work efficiency, may also transfer to the child and increase his own separation anxiety. In summary, your concerns lack reasonable basis, and your behavior is unprofessional."
The logical, airtight analysis left Shanks speechless. He knew his brother was right, but the ache of letting go wouldn't disappear. His shoulders slumped. "Sham, you've never been a father. You don't understand this feeling... It's like the softest part of your heart is being temporarily lent out..."
Just then, the office door creaked open, and Lawrie's little head peeked in. He had clearly overheard. He toddled in, gave Shamrock a sweet "Uncle," then ran to Shanks and tugged his hand.
"Papa," Lawrie said with a maturity beyond his years, "Uncle is right. I'll be brave. And you know what? You're not sad because you don't want me to go-you're sad because you love me so much, right?" He blinked his amber-gold eyes, full of understanding and comfort. "I love Papa too, so I'll behave well in kindergarten and not make you worry. Papa has to work hard too, be as awesome as Uncle! Then I can come home and tell Papa all my new kindergarten stories!"
Shamrock watched his nephew play peacemaker with such composure and felt a faint, nearly imperceptible softening in his cold demeanor. He said nothing, just gave Shanks a look that said, See how mature your son is? Then he picked up the signed document and left, giving the clingy father and son some space.
Shanks felt most of his wounds soothed by his son's words. He picked Lawrie up and kissed him soundly. "My little sun, how did you get so wise? Okay, I promise, no more worrying! Papa will work hard and wait for my little explorer to come home with new stories every day!"
Despite his promise, when the first day of kindergarten actually arrived, Shanks's behavior was still hard to watch.
Outside the kindergarten gates, there was laughter and chatter-some excited, some nervous-along with reluctant parents giving endless instructions. Law held Lawrie's hand; the little boy was neatly dressed and wearing a brand-new dinosaur backpack. Shanks walked beside them, carrying a spare clothes bag and indoor shoes, his eyes already red.
Even Shamrock had come. He stood a little distance away in his impeccably pressed suit, a silent, sculpted figure amid the warm, chaotic scene.
"Lawrie, remember what Daddy said: talk to the teacher if you need anything, play nicely with the other kids, eat well at lunch..." Law crouched down to straighten his son's collar one last time. His voice was calm, but his eyes held hidden reluctance.
"Okay! I remember, Daddy!" Lawrie nodded vigorously, his face flushed with excitement and a touch of nerves.
"Sweetheart..." Shanks finally broke. He crouched and pulled Lawrie into a tight hug, his voice thick with tears. "P-Papa will be right here watching you go in. If... if you miss Papa, just look at the gate... Papa will be the first one to pick you up this afternoon! The absolute first! Nobody's beating me! Waaah..." And then he actually started crying. Big, fat tears rolled down his cheeks and landed in Lawrie's red hair. A few nearby parents glanced over, equal parts amused and sympathetic.
Lawrie didn't squirm, though the hug was tight. Instead, he patted Shanks's back, comforting him like a little adult. "Papa, don't cry. It's embarrassing. None of the other dads are crying. I'll be fine, I promise. And you have to bring me chestnut cake this afternoon. We pinky-swore."
Law stood beside them, watching his alpha act like this was a tragic farewell. He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He knew Shanks's feelings were real, but the scene was just too... embarrassing. He cleared his throat and nudged Shanks's calf with the tip of his shoe. "Shanks, enough. Don't put pressure on Lawrie."
Shamrock walked over, looked down at his brother crouched on the ground hugging his son and crying without a shred of dignity, and his red eyes showed undisguised disgust. He parted his lips and uttered two words: "Disgraceful."
Shanks looked up with tear-blurred eyes, pitiful. "Shammy..."
Shamrock ignored him and turned to Lawrie. His tone was steady. "Lawrie, do you understand the drop-off procedure?"
"Yes, Uncle!" Lawrie squirmed out of Shanks's embrace and straightened his little back. "First, morning health check. Then find my classroom, 'Sunflower Class.' Then say hello to the teacher and the other kids!"
"Good." Shamrock nodded slightly. He reached into his suit's inner pocket and pulled out a new metal bookmark-this one stamped with a small sunflower pattern. He handed it to Lawrie. "A reward. Wishing you a successful 'exploration.'"
"Thank you, Uncle!" Lawrie's eyes lit up. He took the bookmark and carefully placed it in his backpack's side pocket.
Thanks to Uncle's interruption and reward, the sadness of parting eased a little. Lawrie gave one last tight hug to Shanks, who was still sniffling, then kissed Law's cheek. He turned around, hitched up his backpack, puffed out his small chest, and with the gentle guidance of his teacher-steps hesitant but determined-walked through the kindergarten gates. He even turned back once to wave at them vigorously, flashing a brilliant smile.
Shanks cried even harder. If Law hadn't been holding him back, he might have run after them. Shamrock watched the small figure disappear inside, then glanced at his brother sobbing uncontrollably. He shook his head in silent disbelief, said, "I'm going back to the office," and walked away, his back as straight as ever, as if that tender moment had never happened.
Law watched Shamrock leave, then turned back to Shanks, who was still gripping the kindergarten fence, peering inside, his eyes swollen and red. He sighed, walked over, and gently took Shanks's hand.
"Time to go home, idiot," Law said, his words scolding but his tone full of helpless affection. "We'll pick him up early this afternoon."
Shanks gripped Law's hand tightly in return. His fingers were cold and trembling slightly. He took one last look toward where his son had disappeared, then finally let Law lead him away, turning back again and again.
That afternoon, a full fifteen minutes before kindergarten pickup, Shanks's tall figure was already planted at the very front of the gate like a waiting stone monument. He'd refused the driver's offer to wait and driven himself-his tie already askew from rushing. He kept craning his neck, tapping his arm restlessly. The anxious, longing look on his face was more intense than that of any first-time mother waiting to pick up her child.
The moment the dismissal bell rang, little figures streamed toward the gate like baby birds leaving the nest. Shanks's eyes locked onto his target instantly: a small boy in overalls with a head of fluffy red hair.
"LAWRIE!!!" He practically roared, his voice so full of excitement and relieved joy that it cut through the crowd's noise.
Lawrie, holding his teacher's hand and looking around for his family, heard that unmistakable voice. His head shot up, and his amber-gold eyes lit up like stars. "Papa!" He let go of the teacher's hand and launched himself like a little rocket toward the red-haired man with open arms.
Shanks half-kneeled and caught his son mid-flight. The impact staggered him backward a step, but he held on tight, pressing the warm little body firmly against his chest as if to fuse it there.
"Papa's baby! Papa missed you so much!" He buried his face in Lawrie's neck, which smelled faintly of sweat and kindergarten, inhaling deeply. Then he cupped Lawrie's face and rained kisses on it, babbling nonstop: "Are you hurt? Did anyone bully you? Was lunch good? Did you drink enough water? Did you nap? Did you-"
The barrage of questions left Lawrie dizzy, but he could feel Papa's love and worry burning through him. He giggled, dodging the ticklish kisses, and hugged Shanks's neck back, planting a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. "Papa! I missed you too! Nobody bullied me! Lunch had chicken wings-I ate two! I drank water by myself! Naptime... I missed Papa a little, so I didn't really sleep..." His voice trailed off, a little embarrassed.
"My good brave boy..." Shanks's heart ached and softened all at once. He lifted Lawrie onto his arm, holding him like a precious treasure recovered, and kept stroking his back. "Papa missed you too-couldn't focus on anything. Tomorrow, Papa will bring your favorite strawberry milk. When you nap, just think about Papa and strawberry milk, and you'll fall right asleep, okay?"
"Okay!" Lawrie was immediately won over. He hugged Shanks's neck happily, and the two touched foreheads, nuzzling affectionately as if no one else existed. The syrupy sweetness drew sidelong glances from other parents-some amused, some touched.
On the drive home, Lawrie chattered nonstop, bouncing in his car seat, eager to share the results of his first "official independent exploration."
"Papa! There are twelve kids in my class! There's a girl named Emily who has a bow in her hair-it's so pretty! And a chubby boy named Benjamin-he's super strong and helped me carry blocks!"
"The teacher taught us 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'! Twinkle, twinkle, little star... I can sing it! I'll sing it for you and Daddy when we get home!"
"The chicken wings at lunch were so good! A little hard, though. The girl next to me, Sophia, couldn't finish hers, and the teacher praised me for eating well!"
"In the afternoon, we played in the sandbox. I built a super huge castle-bigger than the one Uncle and I built last time! But then a troublemaker kicked it and it kind of collapsed... I didn't cry, though! I fixed it myself!"
"Papa, the slide at kindergarten is rainbow-colored! It's so long! I went whoosh from the top-like flying! Even better than the park slide!"
"And and and..."
Shanks watched his son's happy, animated face in the rearview mirror, listening to the funny, innocent descriptions. The hollow ache in his chest slowly filled with warmth and relief. His little sun was bravely exploring a new world-and loving it. But at the same time, a deeper, more complex bittersweetness crept in. His son's stories featured moments he hadn't been there for, new friends, new teachers, new games. His little baby was flying toward a wider world at a speed he couldn't fully keep up with.
When they got home, Law wasn't back yet. Shanks held the still-excited Lawrie and listened patiently as he recounted every detail-including that the bathroom stalls were pink, you had to turn the faucet on yourself, and one kid had wet his bed during naptime. Shanks smiled the whole time, offering responses like, "Really?" "That's amazing!" "What happened next?" His gaze was so tender it could drip honey, but inside, his heart felt like it was soaking in lemon water-sweet and sour at once.
Finally, after talking himself hoarse, Lawrie clutched his water cup, slumped against the couch, and began to doze off. Only then did Shanks gently pick him up and carry him to the bath.
At bedtime, Lawrie struggled through a halting, pitchy rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." Though the tune wandered far from the original, both Shanks and Law (who had arrived home a little earlier) applauded warmly. Lawrie fell asleep with a smile on his face, tucked in by Shanks's soft goodnight kiss and Law's gentle hand rubbing his back.
After quietly closing the nursery door, the living room fell silent. Shanks's forced smile vanished. He walked to the couch and collapsed onto it with a long, heavy sigh-a sound full of exhaustion, loss, and thick, unshakeable longing.
Law came over with two glasses of water, handed one to Shanks, and sat beside him. Watching his alpha look like a large, rain-soaked stray dog who'd lost his favorite bone-ears and tail drooping-Law felt both exasperated and a surge of helpless tenderness.
"Is it really that bad?" Law asked, half amused, touching the back of Shanks's cold hand with his fingertip. "He's fine. He had a great time."
"I know..." Shanks answered in a low voice. He turned his hand over and gripped Law's, holding it like an anchor. "I'm happy he's happy. But..." He leaned his head against Law's shoulder, his voice dropping to a childlike, aggrieved whisper. "I feel... hollow. Law, today was the first time he took a nap without me nearby. The first time he built a sandcastle without my help. The first time he sang a new song he learned... I missed it. And I'll miss more things in the future."
Law listened quietly. He knew Shanks wasn't being unreasonable. This was just the raw, tender reluctance of a parent facing the inevitable growth and separation. He set down his water glass, turned slightly, and wrapped his free arm around Shanks's shoulder, letting him lean more comfortably.
"You didn't miss it," Law said gently, his golden eyes soft under the lamplight. "You were there for his birth. You were there for every one of his first steps. You gave him unconditional love and security. That's exactly what gives him the courage and confidence to explore a world without you. Shanks, you gave him wings-not chains."
Shanks went still. He looked up at the face so close to his. Law's expression was calm, but his eyes held understanding and comfort, like the gentlest spring water seeping into his aching heart.
"Besides," Law's lips curved upward almost imperceptibly, "what you 'miss,' he'll be desperate to come home and share with you. Look at him today. He wanted to tell you about every single minute. In his heart, you will always be the most important Papa. Irreplaceable."
Shanks's eyes grew hot again. He knew Law was right. Law always used the calmest words to cut through his most tangled emotions. He tightened his arms and pulled Law closer, burying his face in the place where Law's scent was strongest, inhaling deeply and letting out a satisfied hum.
"Law... Am I pathetic? Like a grown-up who never grew up?" Shanks asked, embarrassed.
"A little," Law admitted. But his fingers threaded through Shanks's messy red hair, gently combing. "But I don't mind."
Shanks laughed softly, the vibration rumbling through his chest. He tilted his head and found Law's lips. The kiss wasn't lustful-only deep gratitude, dependence, and a need for comfort and tenderness. Law responded gently, letting Shanks draw from his stillness and strength.
When the kiss ended.
"Thank you, Law," Shanks whispered.
"Idiot," Law replied, but there was no reproach in his voice.
They stayed like that, holding each other on the couch, listening to each other's heartbeats, sharing the same love for their child and a touch of quiet melancholy over the separation.
For Shanks, that day's separation anxiety slowly settled, tempered by his partner's silent acceptance and rational comfort. It transformed into anticipation for whatever Lawrie would come home and share tomorrow-and into a deeper understanding of the delicate balance between holding on and letting go.