#hope this is good idk

[cashfowler]

♂ - … My muse’s father

⚥ - … My muse’s sibling hehehehehe

{tw: mentions of death, terminal illness, death, swearing, domestic malice/verbal accosts}

♂ - … My muse’s father

The small fingertips curled around his began to tremble, and Doug wanted nothing more than to hold them tighter, to siphon that fear away. But that wasn’t within his power, really – the only solution to quelling his youngest son’s fears would be to liquidate them, and that… That simply couldn’t be done. The doctors had exhausted their resources trying to salvage what remained, but going through dialysis again wasn’t an option. His veins had grown far too weak, and as a father, the last thing he wished was for his children and wife to watch him weakly waste away. Of course, this alternative wasn’t much better. But at least, this way, approaching his end within the comfort of their home, his family could find solace in knowing that he would pass accompanied by those he loved. Doug reached out with his free hand, lightly ruffling the hair atop his youngest’s head. He lips formed a warm, albeit tired, smile.

“You’re alright, kiddo,” he murmured, giving Caspian’s hand a tender squeeze. “You’re alright, don’t be sad.” It was a tall order and Doug knew that – the news had just been broken to his three children yesterday. Two weeks. One month, tops. Doug had always hoped he’d return home under lighter circumstances, but being able to see his children again outside hospital walls? It outweighed the heaviness in his heart knowing that these days may very well be his last.

“Dad.” It was a plea, Doug could tell. Dad, don’t leave. The five-year-old boy’s eyes were wide, brimmed with tears, and it took all his might not to succumb to the guilt of this. The guilt of letting go. His lips became puddy; he simply couldn’t answer. Dad, don’t die. What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn’t make promises his body couldn’t keep. 

“Yeah, kiddo?” He expected something shattering to follow. A you can’t leave me, or don’t go. Instead, Caspian moved forward and wrapped his small arms around him, buried his face against the crook of his father’s neck.

“Love you loads.”

Doug held his son tightly, as tightly as his weakened arms would allow, and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of his head.

“Love you, too, kiddo. Fiercely. Forever.”

                             ~~               ~~                                     ~~               ~~

The day Caspian stopped answering to his given name was close to Doug’s last. He’d managed to stagger outside onto the front porch just before sunset, to admire one last time the streaks of magenta that flashed across the sky. His son had joined him just moments later, tiny feet pitter-pattering from behind until small arms latched around his right leg.

“You weren’t in your room,” the young boy whispered. He pressed his face against his father’s knee, squeezing his eyes shut. “I got scared.” Doug steadied himself against the railing, reaching with his other hand to card his fingers through his son’s fiery red hair.

“I just wanted to see the sky,” Doug comforted softly, turning his gaze again to the horizon.

“That’s… that’s what they do in the movies, Dad,” Caspian whispered, lifting his head. “Before they die.” And the observation was so innocent, so breathtakingly matter-of-fact, that Doug felt his eyes begin to water and his knees weaken. He slowly lowered himself onto the steps, gingerly sitting beside Caspian. Oh, how his bones ached – but this? This ached more.

“You’re such a smart boy, my Caspian,” he whispered, draping an arm around his son’s shoulders. “You know that? You make me so, so proud.” Doug took one of Caspian’s hands, intent to just hold it for while, but couldn’t look past the flash of silver painted on his son’s pinky. “What’s this? Noelle using you as her tester again?”

“Yeah,” Caspian nodded, smiling. “Noelle said… She said if I try really hard and do all my homework, she’ll even do all my fingers, too!” Doug let out a light chuckle, ignoring the way it pushed uncomfortably on his ribs.

“That’s great, son. Just make sure she does a good job. Only the best nails for my best boy, right?” 

There was so much more he wanted to say. How Caspian was so beautiful, so wonderful, the best son he could have ever hoped for. His eldest son, Clint, hadn’t exactly grown up to be an admirable teen, but Doug had no worries about his Caspian. He’d go far in life; he truly would, so long as he didn’t let anyone get in his way. Father and son sat in silence for several moments, comfortable just to share the same oxygen, the same flavor of existence.

“…Hey, Dad?” 

“Hm?” Doug looked down at Caspian, pulling him close. “What’s up, little guy?”

“I think… I think I wanna go by Cash. Everyone at school says it’s cool and I wanna be cool, like all of them. Like Bobby and Timmy… and… and Gabe. They all have nicknames, so I want one, too.” Caspian had been a family name, passed down from Janet’s father to their son. But it wasn’t his family heirloom and, quite honestly, Doug didn’t have the heart to leave the world knowing he hadn’t been able to make his son happy.

“Well, Cash,” he grinned, “I think you’re just as cool as all of them. Maybe even cooler.”

“Yeah?” Cash asked, eyes twinkling hopefully as he looked up at his father.

“Absolutely. My Cash,” he murmured, turning now to pull his son into a proper hug. Oh, he couldn’t be prouder.

⚥ - … My muse’s sibling

Something about his baby brother made Clint’s skin crawl. Their grandmother adored him, while she was still around, all because of his red hair and stupid grin. Just like my Doug, she’d whisper fondly, and peck the bugger’s forehead. Ugh. Clint didn’t have time for this bullshit – he’d much rather be at the skate park smoking up with his crew than sitting here at this pointless shitty reception. Who the hell celebrated lives, anyway? Everyone on this planet was inflicted with nothing but a finite, bleak existence. Inviting people back to their house to ‘celebrate his father’s life’ just seemed morbid on so many levels. Still, his grandmother brought over her token lemon bars, so Clint really couldn’t complain.

His fall from power started with Noelle. He was meant to love his little sister, cherish her, but Jesus freakin’ Christ. How much attention could one kid get?! First came the slew of photographs, the constant use of the camcorder to document her ever single move. Noelle giggled? Gotta catch that on film! She so much as farted? Well, golly fuckin’ gee, guess that was camera-worthy, too! And so Clint faded to the background, the forgotten kid. He’d run inside with a frog he’d just caught, or an insect he’d just pulled the eyes off of, but he was met with angry reprimands and a promptly ordered exit. No longer was Clint Fowler loved, so it was only fair – Clint Fowler stopped loving them.

And then when Caspian came along… It was like Noelle’s childhood but on fuckin’ steroids. How obsessed could a family get with a kid? And the red hair… The red hair just threw it all over the edge. Caspian was the prize-winner, the golden child, the kid his parents had been hoping for all along. Served their dad right when he got leukemia. After all those years ignoring him, Clint was surprised the guy upstairs didn’t come up with something worse. 

Not that he believed in a Heaven anyway. And even if he did, he wouldn’t want Doug to end up there anyway. He deserved to rot in the pits of hell for all the shit he’d put Clint through – and Clint made sure he knew that, before he went.

He’d caught his dad alone on his deathbed, a couple hours before it went down. He cast his father a farced smile as he entered, nudging the door shut behind him. What he didn’t know at the time was that Caspian was curled up on the floor beside his father’s bed, still asleep from his afternoon nap.

“Hey, Doug,” Clint greeted, sure to emphasize his refusal to refer to his father as such. Oh, the first-name trick. Always made Doug squirm. That’s why Clint loved it. “So, I heard your time’s comin’ up? What’re you betting? A day? Two?” Clint eased himself into the chair beside his father, smile only growing at the look of pain on his features. He knew he should be sparing with the cynicism – his father was on his dying bed, after all. But somehow… This was just fuckin’ hilarious. Oh, how the tables had turned. And while Doug wasn’t being ignored right now, but after he was gone, Clint would see to it that it would be as though his father never even lived here.

“Clint,” Doug mumbled. “I’m really not in the mood for this right now.”

“When will ya be, then?” he scoffed. “When ya bite the dust?”

Caspian stirred in his place on the other side of the room, but remained unnoticed by Clint.

“Look, you haven’t listened to me before. Ever. Noelle and Caspian took over your life, so let me make this clear to you. Crystal.” Clint narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer. He delivered every word in a saccharine tone. “You… have been the worst father to me. And y’know? I loved you and all, but jeez, Doug. Enough’s enough. Now’s the time. I won’t mind you if you just… poof.” He opened his hands up in mid-air, imitating a disappearing act. “Okay?”

“Clint –”

“Interrupting? Nice. Classy. Good to know there’s still some of that Doug goodness in there,” Clint jested, reaching forward to playfully punch his father’s shoulder. By the way Doug winced, it was safe to say he’d used a bit too much force for the motion to qualify as gentle. Ah, well. He’d done stupider things.

“Clint, you’re my son and I love you just as much –”

“Nope! Nope, no, you don’t! So don’t try to let bygones be bygones. I’m real excited for you, Doug. So excited. Because wherever you end up next, I want you to really sit with this. What you did. It’s kinda shitty, y’know? Tossing me aside for the prettier kids. I could’ve been great, too, but it was your genes that fucked that up, not mine.”

Doug spared a glance to the other side of the room, where Cash had now awoken. He moved to sit up straighter, letting out a pained sigh as he began to fold the sheets back. “Clint… Let’s… take this outside. Sound like a plan?”

Clint let out a laugh. Cackled. The sound made Doug close his eyes, grit his teeth. Cash, hidden on the far side of the room, did the same.

“Nah, I’m done. I just… y’know. Wanted to kindly wish you the worst.” Clint stood up to leave, hand hovering over the doorknob before he pivoted on his heels. “Actually. One more thing.”

Doug didn’t reply. He simply closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“I hate you. All of you. And him. And I just want you to know that Caspian…”

“Cash,” Doug corrected tiredly.

“Whatever. He’s got hell to pay.” Clint exited the room with a huff, slamming the door shut behind him. Cash flinched, sniffling as he tried to continue a fake slumber.

“Cash… Cash, it’s okay,” his father called softly, pulling back the corner of the covers closest to his son. “C’mere, kiddo.” Cash complied, curling up under the sheets next to his father. As he burrowed into his father’s chest, Doug saw no reason to hide it any longer.

Tears slid down his cheeks in hot, wet streaks. He knew Clint would keep his word.