Disclaimer: ...as you all know, this is a fanfic. So I don't own the...well, Andrew and Curien's wife are the FCs.
[Several years before the incident...]
He hates it here.
Even though his bed is cozy, Daniel only wishes to be outside than to spend the rest of the day in his room. For hours, he gazes at the window with longing in his eyes. He tries to imagine the feeling of the wind on his skin, the sounds of birds chirping and the small garden where his mother usually sits down...
...where is she anyway?
Stupid sickness. It is because of this sickness that Daniel can't go out of the room. His father insists that he should remain in his room until he gets better. It has been two months and Daniel doesn't feel any better. His sickness even becomes worse with each passing week. He finds it hard to breathe and even harder to move around.
The sun is going down and soon, Andrew will come in with that awful onion soup... The routine has become painfully predictable.
"Good bye, Tuesday." Daniel mutters to himself. "See you next week."
Great. He has become so bored that he starts talking to himself. He can't help it anyway. Even with Andrew comes in to check on him every two hours, the conversations are always brief. If this keeps going on for a few more weeks, Daniel figures that he'll go crazy. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes.
"...just another day in the square room with nothing but a side table, a chair and the window."
Ugh, I really want to go outside.
"...mom, how are your tulips doing?..."
The usual silence is all he hears.
"...I prefer the white ones than the pink..."
"Daniel?"
...that isn't Andrew's voice.
It's his father's.
There he is, standing by the door, staring at him with worries in his eyes. They look at each other in a long silence, waiting for the other to act first. ...Daniel then tries his best to give his father a smile.
"...hi, dad..."
It is quite remarkable what those two words can do...or it's just hearing his son's voice that makes Dr. Curien smiles back. He comes in and sits on the side of the bed. A once proud figure, renowned scientist and a father...is now a pale, weary person with gloomy vibrations. It always makes Daniel feels guilty what his father has become...dang this sickness.
His father hasn't say a word as if he is thinking of how to start a conversation differently. Still, Daniel knows. The conversation never change. It's always the same thing no matter who starts talking first. And it always goes...
"How's...how's your day at work?" he squeezes his father's hand weakly.
It's no secret that Dr. Curien is trying his best to hide his depression from his son. After all, it's a bad bedside manner to make the patient...his son feels worse than the current state that he's in. So he does the same thing he does every time his son asks him: only tell him what he needs to hear and keep the bad news out.
"It was...fine. Things went...smoothly for once..." his voice wavers in between his breath. There are a few things he can't hide from his son though. How tired he really is...and his eye contact never meets directly with Daniel's. The doctor looks as if he's about to faint...for a moment...then he shrugs it off like it is nothing.
"How are you feeling?"
...the same old question. Daniel frowns in annoyance. He knows. Despite the fact that his father knows what Daniel will tell him, he is still asking about it like he's fixated on keeping track of his condition...or he has nothing else to say. He answers his father with silence.
"...Daniel?"
Of course, he'll wait. He always waits until I say something...
"I want to go out." he finally replies.
"Please. Even just for an hour...or ten minutes. I miss going outside...with you...and mom..."
The doctor's eyes twitches at the last word.
"Please, dad..." his son begs.
"...at least tell me...where mom is. I haven't see her...for a month."
Without even answering his son, Dr. Curien stands up and slowly walks toward the door.
This isn't the first time it happened but Daniel can't understand why.
"Dad...?"
"She's...not here...right now, Daniel."
And he leaves the room without looking back.
...Why?
The door swings open again and Andrew enters the room with supper.
"Hey, buddy. How are y..." he stops mid-sentence when he sees the boy glowers at him.
"...oh. Right. Sorry, that's a stupid question..."
Author's Note: ...right. I'm back! Angst is still new for me to write anyway...so, as a huge jerk, I'll see if I can (at least) drop a few drops of water in your eyes. ...eh, with my current writing skills, I'm pretty sure I'll fail. LOL.
How long will this story be? I'm not so sure myself. Alright, see ya in the next chapter. Have a nice day/night!