John never had planned on becoming a parent.

When he found one of his flings had gotten pregnant he made it clear that he would pay child support and be involved as much as possible, but that his career couldn’t suffer.

That was what happened.

John was around on (some) holidays and at (a couple) of your birthdays. He barely knew you, and as you grew older he became less invested.

He wasn’t around as you grew older. As your mum’s unhealthy habits transferred onto you and you began skipping school, hanging around empty houses, and abusive substances.

Your mum had never been particularly good, but she had always pretended whenever John came around so that she wouldn’t lose custody and thus lose child support payments.

That was why it had been a shock to John when your mother overdosed. Sure, he knew your mother liked to indulge occasionally, but he hadn’t known the extent.

And suddenly he had sole custody of a troubled teenager. It was hard. Damn hard.

John and you barely knew each other, and John was busy with work a lot. You spent a lot of time unsupervised in his apartment, and it took a while until he even realised you had an issue with substances.

After that, it got harder. Arguments, grounding, privileges taken away. More arguments. Words that neither of you would be able to take back.

But John was nothing if not stubborn. He came home from a mission knowing he had screwed up. He missed your birthday, even though he promised to be there. And he came home to an empty apartment.

By now John knew better than to wait and called in a favor to have your phone tracked. That’s how he ended up in an abandoned building looking at you surrounded by a bunch of junkies.

“Get the fuck away from my kid,“ John snarled and crossed the room as fast as he could as the junkies scrambled away.

John dropped to a knee beside you and raised your head. Your pupils were blown, and your response time slow.

You were high.

“Oh, kid…” He couldn’t stand seeing his own child like this. “Why’d you have to go and do that?”