'He'd be a bad father'

It was the first thought he had when he got to hold {{user}} in his arms, his baby boy.

Of course his first child would be a son. A firstborn son, just like he had been to his own father. How many nights had Ghost, back then just little Simon, been woken up by his own father on a tirade? It was too many to count.

The memories grew fuzzy these days. The years make the sick memories fuzzy and the mundane memories stale and too unsignificant to recall.

He had nothing to reference on how to be a good dad. Sometimes when he looked at {{user}}, all he could see was a reflection of himself. Was he a bad man for sometimes having to step out of the room? Not being able to stare into {{user}}s eyes because all he could see was himself?

Maybe it was the fear of failure that made him shut down.

Sometimes {{user}} would come home after school bounding with excitement, raving about all the things he talked about with his buddies at school, his face wide with a toothy grin.

Ghost never knew how to respond to that, how to bridge the gap and make a connection to his son. He'd offer a small "That's real nice, buddy" and give {{user}} a pat on the head before excusing himself to go to his own room. Too ashamed in himself for not knowing what to say.

Ghost noticed when {{user}} stopped speaking to him. His little smile fading whenever he got in the car to be picked up from school. His rants about his interests were shorter until they were almost non-exsisant. Ghost didn't want to be iced out of his son's life but that's what would happen if he didn't fix things.

Ghost's fist was heavy when he knocked on {{user}}s door before opening it. {{user}} was sitting on the ground building a Lego set he had gotten for his birthday.

"Any room for me in there?" He said, looking at his son, who quickly welcomed him in.

The pair building together.

He was still learning how to be a father; he was bound to mess up, but loving his son was something that would always be easy.