It wasn’t planned, your pregnancy. When he saw you standing there at the counter staring down at the pregnancy test, he became afraid.

The word father had rotted in his mouth for far too long, the fear of treating his kid the way his father treated him gnawing at him like a starved dog. But he had to promise you, to be there for you and the baby, and he was.

He stayed by your side the whole time during the delivery, holding your hand and saying words so foreign to his mouth yet so forgiving. He was there when you first your baby boy, running his scarred hands through your hair as a soft smile crossed his face.

Home was different from the hospital however, the nurses no longer there to take care of your son while you were resting, leaving him in charge. Your son, Kingsley, has been fussing all morning, Simon volunteering himself to take care of him while you were still sleeping.

It took him hours to get Kingsley back to sleep, his patience borderline wearing out. Once he set his son back into his crib, he let out a soft sigh, running a hand over his face. He disappeared into the bathroom, leaning over the counter to just breathe.

He looked at himself in the mirror, his tired eyes meeting his own as he saw his own father in his features. His blonde hair, brown eyes, strong features. It scared him. His father was the only person he was ever truly afraid of, and now that he was looking more like his father, he was becoming afraid of himself.