The past few weeks had been horrible for him. They had been tough, tearing him apart and turning him insane. He tried to stay strong, but it was so hard. Their friends had supported him, comforting him with words and cards. The amount of attention was overwhelming.
After another lonely day, Sindre had finally retired to his bed at two a.m. It was a habit he had developed after January third. He would stay up, browse through their pictures and cry his eyes out. Sometimes he would read the letters Jens had sent him while he had been abroad. He would listen to their answering machine and choke back the tears. He was a mess.
It had been six weeks. Six weeks since that day. The day where he had lost his sunshine. His love. His partner and his buddy. And Eiríkur had lost his father. The boy was only four, yet he had to live on without Jens. They had been very close. Jens was good with children. Which was why he had become a teacher.
With a soft smile, Sindre recalled how the Dane would always welcome the children with open arms and a big grin. He would listen to them talk about their weekend, their day. Animated and happy, he told them they were awesome and cool for drawing, playing and all the other things they did. He was so supportive. It was that way of talking to the children that made him stand out to Sindre.
The Norwegian had been left by his partner, leaving behind the man and their adoptive little son. Eiríkur had been six months at that time.
When Eiríkur had turned one, Sindre and Jens were a couple. When Eiríkur was two, they had moved in. And now that he was four, he was yet again left with only Sindre.
The smile faltered and he felt tears well up. It wasn't supposed to be this way. They were supposed to be happy together, to visit the zoo and enjoy the summer later this year.
The door creaked and his son trotted in, pyjama's ruffled and hair a mess. His eyes were still filled with sleep, but his cheeks were red and had a few streaks on them.
"Dad…", Eiríkur whispered, stopping in the darkness of the room. Sindre sat up and looked at the tiny human.
"What's up Eiríkur?", he asked, voice gentle. It sounded like he had been crying. The child, however, didn't seem to notice.
"Dad… I miss Far. Why does Far not come home? I want Far to be here…" Tears started to leak out of the big round eyes and Sindre's heart broke.
"Come here…", he whispered, trying to fight his own sadness. With quick steps, the child ran over to the bed and let himself be hoisted into it by his father. He was then laid down, in the secure embrace of the Norwegian.
"Shh… shh…", Sindre hushed, slowly rocking Eiríkur. "I miss him too…", he choked. "I miss him so much. Why? Why did you have to leave us? What did we do? Why did you take him from us?" He had buried his face in the tiny crook of the tiny neck in front of him, finally letting his resolve break in front of the child. Of course Sindre missed Jens. Of course he was sad.
"Far… I want Far!", Eiríkur hiccupped, hitting against Sindre's chest. "Far!"
Sindre let him. He let the child cry in his arms, let his own tears fall onto the skin. He didn't stop when the little one's hiccups slowed down and the sniffles became less. Only when the child fell asleep, clutching his father's pyjamas, did he calm down. His tears dried and he collapsed into sleep, filled with dreams of their lost love. From that night on, Eiríkur was allowed to sleep with Sindre through the night.
Inspiration: sweetheart-sensei. tumblr post/ 139786648840/ dearsweetanon -sweetheart- sensei-prussiane
~Hana
