The bus ride home was always hell. Every day, the raven-haired boy would slink quietly to the back of the large, yellow vehicle, and he would sit, burning patterns into the seat ahead of him with his sharp, emerald eyes. Every day, a little girl would come flouncing up to him, a red ribbon tied tight in her blond, curly locks. She would sit next to the six-year-old boy eagerly, ask him a few questions that he would never answer, and then she would get off the bus, only to repeat the same routine the next day. The little boy hated her. He didn't know why the blond girl continued to sit by him, even after he had expressed his deep hate for her.
"Goodbye, Nathan. See you tomorrow." And up she got, waving to the young boy who was not looking at her in the slightest.
'I hate you, Misty.' Nathan thought to himself as the bus got rolling again. He was the last stop, and as the vehicle pulled up to the front of his house, he shuffled out of the double doors immediately, clutching his backpack in his arms as he ran up the steps.
Home. It wasn't much of a place, but it was much better than that stupid school. All of the other first graders were dumb as shit. They were nothing, compared to the genius that was Nathan Explosion. He would run to his room first thing and sit down to draw… If it weren't for the looming figure that strode past the doorway, into the kitchen. Nathan stood incredibly still and waited in the hall, listening for one particular sound—And there it was. The snap of a beer can opening. The boy knew the drill. He took his backpack and made his way immediately to the back door to take a seat on the swing outside on their porch. He would be out here until Oscar Explosion was good and passed out, or until his mother found him.
And that would be awhile. A good, long while.
+++
Hello,
Daddy.
Are
you drunk again?
I've
been waiting on the back porch,
Waiting
to come in.
+++
It had happened like this for years now. Two more years would not make a difference. 8-year-old Nathan Explosion sat on the swing on the back porch, scribbling away at his sketchbook. His pictures had improved dramatically in three years, and though they were still amateur, the gory images of mutilated bodies had progressed. Instead of crudely drawn stick-figures, there were now actual images of humans. Ears, noses, torsos, and almost realistic digits.
After all, he had had a lot of time to practice out here…
Sighing tiredly, Nathan set his sketchbook back inside of his backpack, laying down on the porch swing to stare up at space. It was too dark to continue drawing out here, anyway. And although the stars provided him with light, it wasn't enough to allow him to see the anger he was scribbling down on the paper. Not that he minded setting his sketchbook down for awhile. The stars were beautiful to him… Really, not only that, but ever since he had learned that they were burning balls of fire and gasses that exploded light years away from him, he had dubbed them awesome.
Brutal, even.
Crickets chirped out in the grass, creating a symphony of sounds that whirled in Nathan's talented ears. He made music out of the sounds of nature. Or, rather… He fit them all together to paint a wonderful picture in his mind. The scream of a rabbit as its throat is ripped out by an eagle. The howl of coyotes who have found their food for the night. The sound of trees burning in a marsh. If he was lucky, he could fall asleep to the sound of his neighbors throwing things at each other again; screaming and yelling bloody murder at one another.
A small, crooked smile found his face as he continued to listen to the sounds of the night, and one rising noise caught his ear in particular. It was his father's snoring. Finally. He could go inside. Sitting up slowly, Nathan gathered his things and slung his bag over his shoulder, and opened the back door, stepping into the warm house that echoed with snores.
Pausing on the way to his room, Nathan looked over at his father who lay passed out in front of the television set on the couch. His blood relative whom he knew nothing about, and vice-versa. In all honesty, he was almost afraid to get to know his father. Oscar was a violent, drunk man, as long as the 8-year-old could remember. He didn't want to have anything to do with that.
But for some reason, he felt a sting of sympathy for the man, and he could not tear himself away from his father for a good ten minutes. Only after, did he retire to his quiet room.
+++
N'
good evening, Daddy.
You are asleep again,
Lying on the TV couch
With your eyes hid under
Your rim.
+++
It was only a decade ago that he had been made for this world, and much to his father's surprise, Nathan was in a semi-cheerful mood today. He had come home from school without a scowl. He did not head straight to the back porch, and nor did he hole himself up in his room. No, the 10-year-old birthday boy marched straight into the living room with new-found confidence and watched Oscar watch the news on television.
When the policeman finally noticed his son standing to the side, he turned his head away from the set and stared at him.
"What do you want, boy?"
The fourth grader opened his mouth to speak to his father for the first time in months.
"It's my birthday."
"Yeah?"
"Mom's making a cake."
"I know."
"You'll be there to eat it with us, right?"
And for once, Oscar paused before he answered. But he answered honestly.
"…Yeah," The blond man cleared his throat and turned back to the television immediately, hiding the fact that he actually did want to be around his son for his birthday. "Sure." He added for good measure.
Little as it was, that was the answer Nathan wanted to hear. An awkward smile graced his lips and he scampered off to his room to wash up for his birthday dinner. The child would enjoy this for a few years more, until Oscar decided that it was not worthy to celebrate any longer. Nathan would be dubbed 'Too old' for presents, and therefore, he would force Rose to stop buying them for him.
But for now, the little boy would soak up all the happiness he could get.
Especially from the small acceptance from his father.
+++
But
you know that you can't—
You
can't fool me.
I
know that you still love me.
+++
It was a cold December night nearly two years after the raven-haired boy's 10th birthday, and the child lay awake in his bed, listening to his neighbors fighting again. He chuckled to himself when he heard the wife shriek and smash a glass object against the wall, evoking a loud bark of obscenities from her husband. Silently, he wondered how much longer it would be before one of them jumped off of the deep end, and decided to violently murder the other. That would certainly make for an interesting sound track for Nathan's bed-time.
The boy quieted himself, listening for more of the argument, but to his surprise, another sound drifted to his ears, confusing him in the slightest. The twelve year old had never heard this sound before. It was soft, and it was foreign to his memory. What was it?
It came again, and Nathan listened harder, suddenly realizing that the noise did not carry over from his neighbor's house. Oh, no.
This sound came from within his own.
Sitting up slowly, he paused to figure out the sound—It certainly reminded him of a soft prayer he had once heard from his mother as she wept, but Nathan was afraid that it wasn't Rose making this noise. Crashing came from the other house, covering up the small sound, but the boy took this opportunity to slide quickly out of bed and crack his door open. Carefully poking his head out of his room, he glanced down the hallway that lead to the front door and the kitchen-slash-living room. There was a soft light that spread from the kitchen, lighting his path in the slightest. There was a shuffle from the room, and Nathan ducked his head back in his room quickly, determined not to get caught. When he deemed it safe enough to slip out of his room again, he caught a glimpse of his father's shadow…
And that noise again.
Nathan suddenly realized that it was a wet sound, and although he had never heard it in his life, he knew exactly what it was.
His stone-cold father was crying.
The officer's son was too shocked to even consider why Oscar was weeping over a beer can with his head down on the kitchen table. It was terrifying to hear that noise come from him, but Nathan's heart broke for him. Whatever had happened had obviously broken the man deep to the core for him to be weeping like this.
Slinking back to bed, he didn't dare get closer to Oscar in fear of being caught.
If he had, he would have seen his father weeping over not just a can of beer… But a letter as well. A letter from Nathan's very own grandpa disclosing the details of his grandma's death. Oscar hadn't even received a phone call.
His mother had been dead for days by then.
+++
N'
I know that it ain't all your fault.
You're just a
strong-headed man
With a brittle, weak heart.
+++
"Oscar? Oscar, your father's on the phone." Rose called from the kitchen.
For once in the father and son's relationship, they were sitting outside together, actually
enjoying each other's company. It was a rare moment of tossing the ol' pig skin between father and son… And something as simple as a phone call just had to ruin it.
14-year-old Nathan Explosion caught the football eagerly, even if the throw was turned stiff by his father. His shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a short pony tail… Which he undid when he realized that Oscar wouldn't be throwing the ball with him anymore.
"Grandpa's on the phone?" he asked Rose as the two men walked in from the backyard.
"Yeah," The tall, curvy woman shrugged. "Said he wanted to check in. Kind of odd for your grandpa, don't you think?" Not giving Nathan time to answer, she hugged the boy into her bosom, realizing that her son wasn't skinny as a twig anymore. In fact, he had gained a lot of bulk in the past few months… But it was all muscle.
"Nathan!" she smiled, raising a brow as she held her son back, both hands on his cheeks. "Have you been working out?"
A soft blush graced the boy's cheeks and he averted his jade-green eyes from his mother's, shrugging out of her grasp.
"Yeah? So?" he mumbled, moving to get a glass of water from the sink.
"Oh, no reason." She smiled to herself, turning to busy her hands with preparing dinner. Rose giggled and watched Nathan over her shoulder. "You've been hanging out with that girl from your school a lot lately. What's her name? Misty? Cute girl."
"Mom!" Nathan barked, his face betraying his complete denial. "I'm just working out because I want to! 'Sides," quickly downing his glass of water, he glared out the back window. "I hate Misty. She's so annoying…"
"Of course, Sweetheart." Rose smiled at him, nearly leaping through the roof when a loud slam came from their bedroom. It was obviously Oscar hanging up the phone, but why do it in such a violent manner? What had his father said to him?
Immediately jumping into her default "protection" mode, Rose forced Nathan out of the kitchen and back a ways into the hallway before she went to see what was wrong with her husband. The raven-haired boy stood close enough to hear their conversation, making sure he didn't need to jump in and pull his mother out of trouble she needed it.
"Oscar..?" The woman called tentatively from the bedroom's doorway. She yelped a little when the officer brushed past her, knocking her into the wall on accident. He strode to the kitchen with a purpose and nearly ripped open the fridge to grab a beer out of the back to crack it open and down it, a scowl written plainly across his face.
"What happened, dear..?" Rose sighed softly, standing just outside of the kitchen. She didn't want to risk going in after him. She knew better.
"… The asshole… 's comin' down to… visit. Teach me how… to fuckin' raise my own kid…" The blond man growled, crushing his empty beer can in his hand as he turned to the fridge to grab another. "Thinks he can tell me what to do…" Anger bubbled deep within Oscar, and Rose could sense it. So could Nathan. And for the first time in a year or so, he was afraid. So afraid, in fact, he hadn't noticed himself wander close enough for his father to see him.
Nathan knew the second the man locked eyes with him, he had to run.
Back pedaling as fast as he could, the fourteen year old tried to run to his room, but unfortunately, Oscar was there in a flash with his hand in a vice grip around Nathan's bicep. Rose could only stand back and hope to God that he wouldn't hurt her baby.
Oscar's breath reeked of cheap beer when he opened his mouth to growl at his son so close to his face.
"If you fail me boy, you're as good as dead, y'hear me?" he snarled, pinning Nathan to the wall with one tight grip on his arm. The boy tried his hardest not to show pain, but his death stare for his father faltered a bit when Oscar slammed him up against the wall once for good measure. The man stormed off back to the kitchen for another beer, leaving Nathan and Rose silent in his wake.
The future frontman would not leave his room for the rest of the day.
+++
N'
you're waiting, yes you are waiting
For
your daddy
'Cause
he's going to come and he's going to
Tear
you apart.
+++
The following two years had not served to heal Oscar and Nathan's relationship. In fact, it had severed it even more, if possible. The only hope that glimmered beneath the volatile surface was one of Nathan's only current loves—Football. Otherwise, they might as well have been strangers living under one roof.
During his freshman year of high school, the young Explosion had tried out for the football team, and because of his size, speed, and aggression, was gladly accepted as their Middle Linebacker. He had excelled in the sport immediately, never once sitting on the bench in a practices or game, and had become one of the team's star players in only a year.
And guess who decided to follow him?
"Nathan! Oh, Nathan!" The 16 year-old knew that bubbly voice very well by now.
Tugging his helmet off from his head, Nathan shook out his hair to dump a bottle of water on himself. It had been a fantastic game for their team, and the large teenager was the main cause of it. He didn't really feel like dealing with the blond cheerleader at the moment, but there she came, bounding up to him, her black and green pompoms tight in her hands.
"Nathan!" Misty leaped up into his arms, forcing him to drop his helmet. What was he gonna do? Not catch her? "You were fantastic, tonight!" She wrapped her arms around Nathan's neck and kissed him happily, evoking a few 'Aww…'s and several 'How cute!'s from the people exiting from the stands. They even got a few brave snickers from some of the football team.
"Misty… Get off…" Nathan's face lit up with a blush, and he let go of the cheerleader, only to find that she clung to him quite well on her own.
"Not before you gimme a kiss, Explosion."
A quick glance around the stadium showed that several people were watching, and in all honesty, Nathan was too afraid of this crazy woman to refuse her. He hesitated for a quick moment, then kissed her back, hearing a few loud whistles from his teammates. Pulling away after a moment… Or maybe even two, he set Misty down to chase after his gutsy teammates, ready to completely smash their faces in. The few boys scattered to their parents to avoid getting bruised and bloody, while the others congratulated him on the great game, and clapped him on the back. The curly-headed cheerleader watched him all the while, whispering to a few friends on her squad about something or other, and they squealed as they watched the star 16 year old come marching back to Misty to tell her good night.
Yeah, they'd been going out for a couple of months by then. It was inevitable, the way the girl followed Nathan around like a lost puppy. It had just been a matter of when Nathan would finally give in to her big, blue, doe-eyes, and… Constant nagging.
"Nathan, you really did great tonight," Sweet, but this girl didn't know how to shut up. "The other girls are jealous that you're my boyfriend." She snickered, nuzzling up to him again, not meeting too much resistance this time. He liked this worshipping side of her much more than the annoying, insisting, and slightly bitchy girl she usually was.
"Explosion," Nathan jumped a little in his skin when he felt a large hand pat his shoulder. He released Misty immediately and turned to see her father nodding in approval at him. "You won the game tonight, that's for sure." A wide grin spread over the man's face and he ruffled the teen's hair, very father-like.
"I'd be damn proud to call you my son if I were Oscar."
Nathan froze.
His father hadn't seen his game.
"Misty, it's time to go. Say goodnight." The man watched as his daughter stood on her tiptoes to kiss Nathan's cheek, and scurried back to her father's arms to walk to the car.
The boy watched Misty go, not realizing how fast the time sped by as he wondered where Oscar was tonight.
The sky would be littered with stars before Nathan left the field with angry tears in his eyes.
+++
But
why can't you hold me
Like the other daddies do?
And
why can't you love me
Like I was a part of you?
+++
"Fuck you! I'm 18! I can do whatever the hell I want!"
Oscar had never seen his son so vocal, but it didn't stop him from roaring back at the muscular young adult.
"You're not quitting school to be some faggot in a band!" He had known for awhile that Nathan was practicing with a few friends of his from school, but he thought it was just a phase. What kid hadn't gone through their rebellious music-blasting part of their childhood? Oscar hadn't noticed when Nathan did. He thought that this was just late in coming.
"You can't stop me." He challenged his father, standing up straight so that his muscular form actually threatened the officer. Nathan was a strong boy now, and could prove to be a formidable opponent to even the hulky Oscar.
Slinging his large backpack over his shoulder, Nathan turned to leave, but the blond policeman had to try one last time to get his son to stay. Anything.
"You want to make your mother cry, don't you? You wanna break her poor heart."
Silence filled the room, along with a tangible fury that seemed to emanate from the 18 year-old. With hands clenched tight into fists, Nathan turned only a little to slice his father with what would be his trademark death glare, and he snorted.
"You're just scared, aren't you? You don't want me to leave," he turned around to fully face Oscar, no mercy written anywhere on his features. "Well, you know what? I don't give a shit, Dad." He gave a sharp laugh, and slid a hand over his face, allowing the crickets to fill his venomous silence.
"For once in my goddamn life, I don't care what you think. I finally realized, after years of trying to get your attention, your love, your goddamn respect… I realized that your opinion doesn't mean shit. I'm going to Sweden to get a band together. You gonna try and stop me?" It was a challenge.
Oscar stood, staring at his son as he opened the front door to the warm night air.
No.
He couldn't leave.
The blond officer had to say something, but words eluded him like sweet memories from Nathan's childhood.
When no reply came from his father, Nathan uttered out a small, 'hmph', and stepped out the door.
"You're pathetic."
Oscar was left staring at a closed door in the dark. He couldn't believe it. His son, his one and only child had left him.
So, the man did all he could do.
He went to the kitchen, cracked open a beer, downed it, then cried himself to sleep in his chair in front of the television.
Oscar would not see his son again for years.
+++
Good
bye, Daddy.
Guess
that I'll be seeing you around
Because
I am old enough to understand,
But
still too young… I am just too young… I am still too
young
To
know how.
+++
It was another grim, rainy day in northern Florida. Oscar Explosion had come home from another horrible day of tracing his routes to check in on his dear city of Tallahassee. He had made three DWIs in the last week, and only God knows how many speeding tickets he'd given out.
"Rose, what's for dinner?" he called, moving to the kitchen to get a beer… No, maybe he'd go for a water today… And as the man bent over to grab the water bottle, he felt a muscle in his back spasm then tighten, making him hiss with pain.
He was really getting to old for this. Maybe he ought to look into that retirement community…
"Wait, what?"
Or maybe not.
Coming out of the bedroom, Rose Explosion smiled a little at her husband, patting him on the shoulder as he moved past her to sit down in his favourite chair. The both of them looked like they had aged a decade, but in reality, it had only been three years since their son had left home for Sweden.
Three years.
Rose found herself thinking back on Nathan quite often, and would not allow anyone into her son's room. It remained untouched as if she were mourning his death. In all honesty, she felt as if she was.
No one had heard from him since the night he left.
Not a phone call. Not a single letter. She didn't know if he was still alive.
But Rose would not allow herself to think otherwise. Of course her baby was alive. He had to be. He was an Explosion. He was a strong boy.
"Oscar," She called to her husband over the sound of the television. "We're having pasta tonight. Do you want meat in your sauce this time? You threw a fit when I put it in last tim—" The brunette was interrupted by a sudden ring of the doorbell. The couple glanced at each other, curious as to who would be out in the rain at this time today (and also who decided to use their back door instead of their front), but Rose set her pots down in the kitchen and went to answer the back door.
"Hello the—" The woman's bright smile faded to one of pure shock and disbelief when she registered who stood at her door.
A tall, muscular man in his early twenties stood on the porch, soaked to the bone, his long, raven hair clinging to every curve of his shoulders.
Without a doubt, Rose knew who this man was.
A word was not passed between the two of them as they held each other, not caring at all who was soaked and who was dry. A mother had been reunited with her child, and there was nothing more to say about it.
"Rose? Who's at the door?" Oscar had gotten up when he hadn't heard his wife speak after she had opened the door.
And for a moment, all time stopped.
Memories flooded back to Oscar through the connection of the two identical pairs of jade green eyes. All the words that had passed between father and son. All of the arguments. The fights. The times he had hurt Nathan with vile words. With thoughtless actions.
The second Rose stepped to the side, for the first time in thirteen years, father and son embraced.
He stepped back and saw that his son was not alone. A much taller, lanky blond stood behind Nathan, as well as a young brunette child, both soaked to the core as well.
They must have been the reason he went to Sweden in the first place…
Before taking a step into the house, Nathan looked straight into Oscar's eyes, not a trace of anger in sight. Instead, there was a question that only his father could answer.
'Can I come in?'
This time, Oscar would respond correctly.
"Welcome home, son."
+++
Hello,
Daddy.
Are you drunk again?
I've been waiting on the back
porch.
Waiting on the back porch.
I am still waiting on the
back porch
To come in.
+++
