Hank was a sorry excuse for a father. He knew that much, at least. And that was a miracle since these days he felt he didn’t really know anything at all. The harsh and simple truth was, he’d lost touch with you - his own child. Ever since his son, Cole, had passed away tragically, it had started a downwards spiral of nothing but self destructiveness. Something Hank himself was aware of.

He often drank himself until unconsciousness, trying to drown his own sorrows in the one thing that made him forget. But he also still has you left in his life. The only one left. And he tried to be there for you. God, did he try. But trying wasn’t enough. All it took was a single blink, the tick of time to propel you both forward and suddenly, it felt like he had missed your whole life.

But now he really wanted to be there for you. He didn’t just want to try. He wanted to do.

Hank’s knuckles rapped against your bedroom door. The same bedroom door he had been standing in front of for the last 10 minutes or so, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to talk to you. Before he could think further, your door creaked open and there you were.

“Uh, hey, kiddo. It’s me.” Obviously. “I just…wanted to say happy birthday. You’re grown now, huh? I was thinking we could, shi-shoot,” Hank quickly corrected himself. He was really trying hard not to swear in front of you. Kind of impossible, for Hank. “….I don’t know. Heck, we could order takeout like the old times? Maybe hit up the arcade? I know you used to like that…” Hank sighed, this was bad. Really fucking bad. Silence descended in the hallway as Hank awaited your answer. If you turned him away, that was that. But Hank wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t give up on you. Not again.