"I love you Daddy." A bright green eyed, blonde haired tot chirped happily as he fiercely clung to his father with all the strength his tiny four year old body possessed. Even though he hadn't lived with his daddy for very long, he loved him with all his heart. He giggled as great big strong arms enveloped him completely, pulling him tight against a warm, familiar chest, and he rested his little head against the stone like expanse with a cute, adoring smile.
The man, not one to smile much at all, looked down at the young one clinging to him with a gentle, loving look as he brought his lips to the top of his sons head. For years he had told himself he'd never have children. His lover protested this relentlessly, and yet in one stupid night he had created the beautiful boy that held so tightly onto him.
"I love you too Landon." And he really did love the child, with all his heart and more.
He hadn't wanted to be a father, but seeing the young one, only three at the time, standing on his front porch with a dirty face, eyes glassed over in a consent state of near tears, flanked on either side by two men in black suits, noses in the air with a serious seniority complex... Well he could hardly turn away and say no.
He stood out on the porch that day, choking back rage as it simmered inside, boiling angrily, hotter and hotter until he thought it would leave his insides scalded. The child's mother had died six months before and during the process of tracking him down Landon was bounced from place to place, home to home, often being stuck in places that saw him as a source of income. A bruise dusted his pretty little face, yellow and green, caught in the stage of healing.
Lars knew that look all too well.
He hated himself for leaving the precious, tiny child in such a state at such a young age, even though there was no way he could have fixed it. He didn't know about the woman, a one night stand scenario only thought to happen in cheesy romantic comedies, and her pregnancy.
That child, as he stood, cowering like he was on the porch, was two parts abandoned and lonely, one part dejection of a caliber someone so young should never have to experience, and one part broken nearly beyond repair. Lars could see the defeat that curled the boy's shoulder in, the misery that hunched him over, the fear that kept his eyes locked onto the ground under his feet.
He knew defeat all too well, too.
It was a strange sort of reflection he saw, looking at the boy in front of him and the one in his memories, seeing such painful similarities it almost brought tears to his eyes.
No.
He refused for history to repeat itself. This time everything was in his control, unlike it had been trapped in his own home with a little sister to look after. This time he could fix the defeat in the small boy's shoulders, cure the sickly look he had about his frame.
"What's his name?" He had asked, fixing two furious, burning forest colored eyes onto the men on his porch, only barely finding the strength to look away from the battered wisp of a child that didn't even come up past his knee.
When the name was given to him, last name his own, his heart all but stopped in his chest as he instantly looked back down at the child. Saying no to opening his home to the little one never once crossed his mind as he very slowly knelt down to the boy's level, unsurprised to see him flinch away.
"Hallo." He said quietly, eyes and tone nothing but soft and gentle as it rumbled just loud enough for the boy to hear. When little eyes flickered up to meet his, he smiled faintly.
"Ik zal je geen pijn doen, kleintje." He promised once he knew he had the child's attention, but when he was only met with dull, blank eyes, he frowned in concern. The young one didn't speak his own native language. With a sigh, he tried again, frown fading when the boy dropped his eyes quickly.
"None of that now. I will not hurt you, little one." He repeated in English, satisfied when the boy peeked up at him again through his lashes.
The boy shuffled a little as he stood there, and glanced up at the men in suits at either side of him before he looked back down, drew a little closer to Lars and cupped his hand over his mouth, as if worried the men in suits wouldn't let him talk.
"Are you my daddy?" He whispered quietly, eyes not so scared as he slowly began to relax. This man was different than the homes he had been to. Usually it was a harsh grab by the arm, angry eyes and words and a smack to the face when he spoke out of turn. None of these things accompanied the kind of scary, green eyed man in front of him who talked so very softly.
Lars was shocked when the little boy spoke; maybe he wasn't as broken as he had originally thought. The possibility made him smile just a little as he nodded in answer to the little one's question.
"Mmhmm. My name is Lars and I am your dad." He said, voice cracking softly on the parental name. He was scared. Uneasy. Apprehensive. He had never wanted to be a dad, too afraid he'd mess up his child's life, yet here he was, having a soft spoken conversation with his three year old son he was meeting for the first time.
"Good. They say that daddy's don't ever hit." He said, still with his hand cupped around his mouth as he spoke in a whisper, looking far more relaxed and instantly trusting as the most beautiful, heart melting smile appeared on his face.
Lars hardly had the heart to tell the little one just how wrong he was and just nodded, the small smile still on his face as he regarded the boy. He didn't have time to respond in any way before tiny little arms wrapped around his neck and a blonde little head rested against his shoulder. It was as if he wasn't a complete stranger to the boy and had been his daddy for his whole life.
When the child didn't let go, Lars slowly stood up with him, arms wrapped securely, if not a little hesitantly, around his tiny frame to keep him from falling. He was met with absolutely no resistance, cry or complaint as he did so; the boy was more than content to stay in his arms.
How it must have felt to be Landon in that moment, not needing to fear any more after so long. Had he felt the safety of his dad radiate around him protectively, even on that first day they had been together? Had he too felt the strong, fierce, instantaneous swell of love for his dad that his dad felt for him as soon as they were hugging each other?
Lars smiled as he drew his lips away from his son's head, internally sighing in a profound sense of content. It was his son's favorite place to be, wrapped up in his arms; had been since that first day.
I love you, Daddy.
Lars had never wanted to be a dad, but now that he was, he wouldn't trade it for the world.