"Say that again?"

A chuckle is what he received for his skepticism, filled with giddy excitement. "I said that your father and I are visiting you!" Patryck said cheerfully, apparently unaware of his son's doubt.

Tord didn't answer immediately, head crammed with thoughts that were making his cheeks redden. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to process the information, as the concerned voice of Patryck pulled him out of his mind.

"Tord, you okay?"

"Never been better!" he replied too quickly for his liking but his father didn't go on to notice, only letting out a satisfied hum. "So… when are you coming here?"

"This afternoon,"

Tord's head went blank and it took a few moments for Patryck on the other line to ground him back to reality.

The Norski swallowed a thick lump in his throat and tried his best to respond to his questions with a steady tone. "Like, THIS afternoon?" he repeated hesitantly.

"Yup!" Then, his mood went uncertain. "If that's okay with you, son? I know you're not fond of us coming—"

"Of course not!" Tord exclaimed, taking Patryck by surprise. "You're my parents, pa. The best ones I've ever had! I'd love for you and dad to come,"

Silence overlaid the bedroom until a gentle laugh drifted into his ears, something that gave the Norski a warm feeling that was never often there to surround him.

"Oh, Tord. You always know how to make your old man feel flattered," Patryck teased, and Tord felt himself being embarrassed by it. It wasn't every day he willingly admitted that he loved his adoptive parents, since the entire army would poke fun at him.

But after his birth father died, it wasn't easy to express his affection, regarding how… dismissive the previous commander had been.

The memory of his father made his face scrunched up in anguish, the emotional pain he felt from his cold barbs never escaping his mind. Tord would never forget those times he felt utterly useless, watching as the stagnant body of the old commander rests on the hospital bed, machines and wires hooked up to him to hopefully keep his father alive.

The heavy load on his heart never left.

"Whatever," he muttered, ignoring how his voice slightly cracked. "It would be nice seeing you two again. Hope you fly here safe,"

"Me too," Patryck acknowledged, the softness that Tord is accustomed to hearing quickly crushing the emotions. "Jeg elsker deg, Tord,"

A smile graced his lips. "Jeg elsker deg også. Ikke gå deg vill," Tord joked, and even though he couldn't see it, he could sense the eye roll coming from his father.

"Oh, shut up or you're grounded,"

"I'm an adult, pa," he deadpanned.

"I know." And consequently, they both hung up, both sides having grins on their faces.

The moment he saw a car pulling up in front of the house, Tord instantly went outside to greet them, earning looks of confusion from his friends.

Paul was the first to meet with Tord, patting his son on the back with a smirk. "Hey, kid. Miss your dear old dad?"

"Hardly," Tord replied sarcastically but the genuine smile on his face is the opposite of it. He gave his dad a quick hug. "But if it makes you feel any better, I do,"

"How sweet of you," Paul said just as mockingly, withdrawing from the hug as Patryck reached to the Norski.

At this point, he couldn't hold back his tears, nearly crushing his son when he embraced him. "Oh, Tord, you've grown into a fine young man. I wish your real father could see that," he whispered.

Tord choked on the statement and he was hesitant for a second before wrapping his arms around his pa's waist, bringing him close as he tried to dismiss the ache in his chest. "Yeah, I wished," he said a little bitterly.

As they let go, Edd managed to speak, puzzlement fused in his question. "Uh, Tord? Who are these people?"

Tord's cheeks flushed, realizing until now that his friends are watching him. "Uh, well, Edd," He forced himself to grin, gesturing to his parents. "These are my dads. Patryck and Paul,"

Tom's void-like eyes widened, shock embedded in them. "Your DADS?!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" Edd said, surprised. Then, he smiled widely, walking up to them as he raised his hand. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm Edd,"

Patryck took the initiative to shake his hand, his expression conveyed with gratitude. "Thank you so much for looking after our son. Tord didn't have a lot of friends back then, so I was glad he had someone like you accompanying him," he thanked him, causing Edd to blink.

He chuckled nervously. "Um, you're welcome?"

Tord fumed with embarrassment. "Pa!" he yelled.

"What?" Patryck asked innocently, even going as far as to flutter his eyelashes at him.

Someday, he's going to get his ass kicked in combat training. Tord would surely relish the victory he is going to achieve from beating his pa. Call it a family bonding time, if you will.

The Norski sighed, rubbing his temples to relieve a forming headache. Maybe he should've turned them down so he wouldn't have to experience this.

Paul thankfully decided to save his son the shame, slinging an arm around his shoulders as he dragged Tord into the house. "Anyway, kid. How about you give us a tour, ey?" he suggested, lips still locked in a smirk.

Tord nodded, grateful that his dad isn't antagonizing him with awful mockery about his social life before, and listening to his two remaining roommates introducing themselves to his pa.

This is gonna go so badly.

Surprisingly, it didn't.

Patryck, unfortunately, told stories to his friends that made Tord almost pop a vein.

Tom is certainly enjoying his humiliation, the snorts and laughs leaving from his mouth sending waves of annoyance to the Norski.

Until the happy atmosphere that was gradually building up began to collapse.

"So, how did you became Tord's parents?" Matt asked suddenly.

Although the question sounded innocent enough, it however gave away a forge of silence on the three men. Tord tends to evade the subject as much as he can whenever it was brought up, the mention of it giving rise to old memories that were meant to be secured.

Paul shared an uneasy glance to Patryck, whose gaze is calm but held a distinct sadness in them. "Er, it's kinda complicated. Why do you ask?"

"Feeling curious," At the harsh nudge coming from Tom, Matt backtracked his answer. "I mean, we never really knew that you're his parents. Tord never tells us anything,"

The two men shot a look at their son, who tried to avoid their expressions by staring at his mug. It was empty, giving Tord a familiar feeling.

"You didn't tell your friends about us?" The tone his pa possessed caused Tord to wince.

"In my defense," he began, not yet meeting his burning gaze. "They didn't ask and I could have told them,"

"But you couldn't," A hand sits on his shoulder and an unusual tingle crawled itself into his stomach, churning and twisting into something ugly. It felt too hot. "Son, I know you. Our relationship with you isn't a secret, not anymore,"

"But my—" Tord paused. Then, his shoulders slacked, seeming defeated. "Whatever,"

Patryck frowned and scooted closer, pulling him into a hug. "Wanna go to your room?" he invited.

Taking the opportunity to get away from the sudden attention, he nodded. As they both stood from their chairs to head to Tord's bedroom, Paul is left behind with the rest of the gang.

Matt appeared guilty, never knowing how much his curiosity hurt his friend. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"Ah, it's alright, man," Paul excused his apology, waving a hand. "Kid's a little cautious about his personal life. Nothing new,"

"Why though?" Tom tilted his head. "What got the commie so reserved about it?"

Tom flinched when Paul's eyes darkened, holding a sinister glint that could make people fall to their knees. "I guess you could say that he was forced to keep it low," He laughed but it didn't have any hint of his basic humor.

Edd looked towards the hallway, worried about what his friend had been going through right now.

Meanwhile, in Tord's bedroom, the Norski had curled himself into a ball on his bed, resisting to confront his issues with Patryck.

The man breathed out a sigh at his son's behavior, taking a seat on his desk chair. "Tord..."

"I'm not talking about it," he asserted, voice muffled because of his arms. "It's better that way,"

"We are gonna talk about it. Whenever you like it or not," Tord could discern a dip on his mattress, meaning that his pa had joined him. "Son, this is not okay,"

"I know," he reluctantly admitted, slightly turning his head to address Patryck, a deep frown hanging on his lips. "And it fucking sucks, pa,"

His gaze softened and Patryck rubbed his back, slow just like Tord would've liked. "Yeah, it does. But that doesn't mean you have to keep it all in. Come on, what have we told you about that?"

"Never keep it in,"

"Exactly," He smiled. "Now, dump it all on me. Don't be scared,"

Despite the situation, Tord laughed weakly. Eventually, he got out of his drawn position and begins to tell how he considered himself to be really worthless sometimes, his indecision about the responsibility, and how much of a complete asshole his father is.

Well, mostly his rant is about his father, but you get the point.

Patryck listened without saying a single word to disturb him and it gave courage for Tord to push on even further.

"—And like, I actually want him to love me, you know? I always showed him those little robots I built before and I thought that he would be impressed,"

Tord didn't continue the story and Patryck understood why. He'd been there when it happened and it made his heart squeezed in guilt at how the younger version of his son cried so much that day.

He would probably never forget how horrible it made him feel.

"I don't remember my mom," Tord declared openly, gaining his attention. "But I bet she didn't care about me like my bio-dad,"

"She doesn't," The words got out before Patryck could even think and Tord jolted, his silver eyes widening at the revelation. "She used to sing you a lullaby a lot when you were a baby and I remember how she would often look at you like you were her whole world,"

Tord is silent until he raised the dreaded topic. "What happened to her?"

Patryck's face tightened, achingly recalling the events played out in front of him as if it were a movie.

Blood stained the floor as one of the enemy forces shot Alexia in the head.

The shrill screams and cries from a bundle on her arms.

She looked so peaceful, yet so terribly pale. She was dead. She was dead. Gone.

Julian was shouting, but the ringing in his ears never faded as he watched how her dull eyes seemed to stare at him, blaming him for not saving her.

He wasn't fast enough. He wasn't good enough.

Alexia is dead because of him.

"Pa?"

Patryck sucked in a sharp breath, Alexia and everything around him slipping away to reveal Tord's bedroom. The Norski himself is concerned, scanning him as Patryck attempted to calm his pounding heart.

"S–Sorry," he stuttered, closing his eyes. "Um, maybe not now, son. I'll tell you when… I'm ready, okay?"

Tord eyed him before nodding. This is probably a sore issue for him, which is completely understandable. "That's fine. I'm perhaps not ready to know the truth either," he confessed.

Simply after that, silence arrived. Patryck opened his eyes, his heart now calmed into its regular rhythm. It was pathetic to believe that he had been over it. That incident happened years ago and still, the memory seemed almost fresh.

Tord had been so small back then and Julian wasn't as cold-blooded that his biological son had made him out to be. The death of his wife had affected him to be over on the edge, always isolating himself in his office to finish the stacks of paperwork.

And— God, Patryck and Paul can't bear knowing how miserable the base had gotten after the news broke out. Alexia was like the light to their darkness from years of ruthless war, bringing happiness to their fog of despair with her bright, cheerful smiles despite being a veteran of something so awful and bloody.

She didn't deserve to die.

And the worst part? The resemblance between her and Tord is painfully similar. The caramel hair, the somewhat sarcastic attitude. It was all there.

Except, he inherited Julian's eyes. Silver with glimmers of blue. Alexia's color.

And years later, when Julian is told by the doctors that he's going to die soon, he called for Patryck and Paul for a private discussion.

Not one to disobey his commander's orders, the two went in the room where a familiar tuff of black hair stood in contrast to the white setting. There, laying on the hospital bed is Julian.

He looked worse than before, his eyes were sunken with dark bags underneath. His skin is ghostly pale, causing both men to think of how identical this situation is. The muscle and bone that make up his strong figure turned thin, exposing structures of bones deep within the flesh.

Without a word, Patryck stepped forward, Paul following close behind. Julian moved his head to meet face to face with his soldiers, an unreadable expression implanted in his exterior.

"My brave soldiers," Julian rasped, coughing before beginning again. "I have an important request for you two, one that would change your lives forever,"

Patryck, although he was uncertain, gave a firm nod. "Whatever it is, sir. We will do it," he said.

Julian's mouth shaped into a rare smile and it was so heart-wrenching to be the one to catch it. "Good. I know things would be different in the army, seeing as I have not much time left to lead it,"

"So," Patryck and Paul waited in bated breath, postures stiff. "I have decided to pick my son as the next Red Leader,"

The image of a smiling Tord running around in the corridors of the base show up in their heads and Patryck suddenly became sick. The prospect of a child, soon to be a leader of an army, trained to be in war, is nothing less than terrifying.

Tord had been through so much, taking the brunt of Julian's harsh nature and losing a mother he never even met. It made the man furious along with guilt.

"Sir, are you serious?!" Paul had shouted, glaring straight at the man with anger. "The kid's still nine! He's not even prepared to take over the entire fucking army and yet you still want him to experience the same bullshit YOU went through?"

Julian didn't reply, only staring him back. Patryck shook off his nausea and calmed his boyfriend down, grasping at his hand to subdue his temper. "Sir, Tord can't lead the army yet. He isn't ready to handle…" He swallowed, motioning to practically the entirety of the base. "All of this. No child should be in this war,"

"It's for the best—"

"Is that Alexia would have wanted?"

Julian paused, silver eyes that were perpetually cold going warm and sorrowful. "I know that I haven't been the best father for Tord in years," he affirmed, grief attached to his voice. "But I don't want him to end up like Alexia. Dead, right in front of me,"

To their surprise, tears spring up in the corner of Julian's eyes. He raised a hand to wipe them away, but more kept coming. "Alexia was my whole world and losing her was the hardest thing in my life," he said, sobbing. "And if I can't protect her, what kind of father would I be if can't protect my own son?

"And… since I haven't been much a father to Tord, I've chosen to hand over him to you two,"

Patryck's heart stuttered into a stop, the air in his lungs knocked out of him as he gaped at Julian. He felt tight compaction on his hand and he ignored how it was starting to hurt, still shocked that their leader is so willing to give his son to them.

This isn't happening.

"But sir—" A skinny hand from Julian is lifted and Patryck clamped his mouth shut.

"I know how much you two care about him," he noted. "And I wanted what's best for him,"

A few minutes passed before Paul sighed, rubbing his neck. "If… that's what you wish, sir. Then we are honored to take care of Tord,"

For the first time since Alexia's death, Julian puts on a sincere grin. "Thank you. The adoption papers will be sent to you shortly and please," he added. "Call me Julian,"

Patryck smiled, pressing a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, Julian,"

Tord and Patryck had exited the bedroom, the two sticking close as they united with Paul

Paul snatched the Norski into a hug, carefully running a hand through his caramel hair. "You okay now, kid?" he quietly consulted.

Tord exhaled a chuckle, not once displeased. His gaze came across Edd's and sent him an assuring smile.

The Brit returned it.

I might make this into an entire fanfic but right now, I think this will hold for now.

So what do you think? Comment your thoughts about this and I will appreciate the constructive criticism!