As the night rolled over, a coolness invaded Haytham's senses. By now, he has made a ritual of simply sitting on his armchair by the window with a glass of champagne as the only companion he needed and a bowl of fancy nuts on the end-table next to him, should he occasionally crave some. As his favorite classical tunes played in the background, he slowly sipped his wine, taking in the serene music while he admired the vista outside his house. The sky was in a paler hue of black in the center of which the moon was sitting, radiating luminous reflections onto dark nature that was desperate for a beam of life before the upcoming winter deprives her of it.
Haytham always found it serene to stare out his window; it temporarily takes his mind off of his chaotic sot of a father, and his hopeless case of a son. It also relieves him of the stress of his work duties. Despite being proud of his successful career as Head of the local branch of Abstergo Industries, the responsibility that comes with it can be quite overwhelming sometimes. Also, it's not with pride that you pay the bills.
Haytham felt allured by the silence. He put down his glass and closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. However, the cacophonous sounds of his father's off-key chanting soon came surging from across the hallway, sending Haytham out of his trance. The door opened in one sudden movement and Edward entered while he still chanting and Connor entered right after him. He didn't bother to greet his father and went directly into his bedroom. He could feel Haytham's burning glare on his back but he didn't want to turn around. Haytham looked back at Edward as the latter was skipping with joy, reminiscing about his days out in the open sea throughout the chants he was singing out-of-key. Haytham got up from his seat and went to his son's bedroom. Connor was sitting crossed-legged on his bed, reading. He gave Haytham a glare as he entered without bothering to knock first. "Come and hold down your grandfather, would you?" Haytham bitterly asked. He left the room wordlessly and headed to the bathroom. He reached for the medicine cabinet and grabbed the syringe next to his Advil pills. Connor groaned as he closed his book and hopped off the bed. He was no longer hearing Edward singing, so he went out to the living room to check, only to find his grandfather sleeping on the couch.
Haytham paced out of the bathroom, ready to plunge the syringe into his father, before he was stopped by his son. Haytham held his stance, as he observed a peacefully-sleeping Edward, lightly snoring. Connor couldn't help but smile. He decided to head back to his room, but got stopped by his father's hand gripping on his arm.
"We can't leave him out here." Haytham hissed.
Connor eyed his grandfather. "Are you saying you're going to help me this time?"
Haytham remained silent, which earned a scoff from Connor. "He's your father!"
"Oh, all right." Haytham groaned. He put the syringe aside and dusted off his hands. He and Connor bent next to Edward, each taking an arm and putting it on their shoulders, and lifted him to his feet. Edward stopped snoring, as if he was regaining consciousness. The two men dragged him all the way to his bedroom and laid him on his bed. Edward slightly shifted in his sleep as he started to snore again. Haytham walked out of the room and Connor stayed. He pulled the blanket up to cover his grandfather, and turned the lights off before closing the door behind him as he left the room. He noticed Haytham returning the syringe to its usual spot in the medicine cabinet, while sneaking a couple of strange-looking pills and quickly swallowing them with a glass of water. Connor watched as Haytham cringed at the bitter taste of the medicine and slightly leaned on the sink with his head down in contemplation. After regaining his posture, he closed the medicine cabinet and walked out, noticing his son staring at him.
"Everything okay with your grandfather?" He asked nonchalantly.
Connor blinked as he shook his head, "Yeah. Yeah. All good."
"Good."
Haytham began to make his way to his bedroom, but Connor's words stopped him from taking any step further.
"Do you even still care?" He asked.
Haytham turned around and glared at his son, taken aback with his question. "Of course, I do."
Connor ground his teeth, "Do you really? Or are you just saying that?"
Haytham paused, taking quick glances around the room, before meeting his son's gaze again. "I do," he eventually replied, "really."
Connor nodded disappointingly, "I don't believe you."
Haytham sighed, "I am not particularly proud of your choice of career, but you are still my son, and I am proud of you for being so determined at least."
Connor's gaze softens.
"Good night." Haytham said in a barely audible tone before he retreated to his room, leaving Connor suspended.
Connor shook his head back to reality, trying to take in what his father just told him. A sad smile drew on his lips as a a single tear escaped his eye and traveled down his cheek. Hating how vulnerable he felt in this instant, his smile faded and he quickly wiped his tear away before going back to his bedroom and collapsing on his bed. He took a look at the time: it was 2 in the morning. He looked up at the ceiling, feeling slightly hesitated, before he grabbed his phone and typed in his message.
"Hi mom, how are the art exhibits coming along? I miss you. Call me as soon as you can."
He exhaled as he hit "Send" and set his phone on the table next to him before drifting off to sleep.