Megumi was supposed to be an easy baby.

When he was first born, Toji remembers the quiet, observant look in his son’s green eyes as he took in his surroundings. The furrow of his tiny brows almost comical as he looked around in confusion. Through the tears, Toji remembers marveling at how alike they were already. Maybe Megumi had picked up the traits of Toji you liked the most after all.

Over the months Megumi remained fairly docile. He cried only when he really needed something, like food or for you to hold him, but his cries were really like huffs for attention with the occasional tear. For the most part, he was content with swinging in his rocker or to sit beside Toji on the couch while the other man watched television. For his first kid, Toji thought he really lucked out.

And then Megumi got older.

The change was subtle at first. Most of the time Megumi was with Toji while you went to work. With Toji no longer working for the Time Vessel Association, he found had a lot more time on his hands. He was around Megumi a lot more than he thought he’d be too, so any small change was noticed. Around the fifth month mark, Megumi’s quiet babbles to himself slowly escalated to attempting conversation with Toji in loud and incoherent gibberish. Previously discarded toys like rattles and those weird popping vacuums were now inspected with a renewed interest.

The house was no longer quiet until you came home and honestly, Toji didn’t mind the change. For a while he had wished Megumi was a rowdier baby so he could be exhausted by the end of the day and have you coo at him about how strong he was for holding it down without your help. Maybe you’d run your fingers through his hair the way he likes too.

Toji’s learned to be careful what you wish for.

“Please, Megumi, baby, go to sleep.” Toji’s words sound muffled and broken, a desperate plea to a God that closes its ears to him in mockery. Megumi’s cries get louder in response.

He can’t take this anymore. His heavy eyelids can never stay closed as long Megumi continues that repetitive hiccuping cries. A single tear slides down Toji’s cheek as he feels his five month old son, the same one he had cried over when he first held him, reach up to grab a fistful of his hair and yank for the nth time that evening.

Moonlight shines in through the split in the too short curtains as walks around the room like a zombie. Hunched over and groaning, Toji tries humming, he tries petting Megumi’s back, hell, he even tries crying alongside him. Nothing seems to work as Megumi’s little face turns an angry shade of red, his little fists balled up. It might’ve been adorable under different circumstances.

Out of the corner of his eye Toji notices your exhausted face poking in through the doorway and the guilt in his chest aches tenfold. He can’t remember if you have work in the morning or not but he still doesn’t want you up this late. You worked overtime yesterday and had been tired when you got home. He shields Megumi away from your view.

“I got it,” he grunts at you, shooing you away with his free arm. “Go back to bed. Keep my spot warm for me if you wanna help.”