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sadserotonin · 7 years

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home | ben & chris young

A very belated birthday present for @satuseppa with the prompt of: one of our son’s realizing his father is only human.

xoxo have some feels

To Ben Young, home was spirited. Home was his little sister demanding everyone’s attention while she enlightened them about the life and times of a fourth grader. Home was his parents holding hands under the dinner table 23 wedding anniversaries in, while they leaned in to indulge Jude. Home was Pax, looking away when Ben met his eyes.

At the age of 19, home was routine, familiar, warm and sheltered. Ben complimented his mother on dinner with a smile known well to everyone around the table. He helped his father load the dishwasher, anticipating the hand he’d feel on his back when they neared the end and Chris gently told him, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Ben had learned his father’s smiles were the most genuine when the corners of his eyes creased to accompany. He always waited to see them before stepping back to rejoin the family at the table; he didn’t want to miss the last half of Jude’s third story of the night.

Home was one person after the other trickling away from the table to secure time for themselves in such a lively house.

It was routine for Ben to walk up the carpeted stairs — navy blue now instead of beige ever since a third Young child discovered glitter glue — towards his bedroom to Skype Josh. Often, he would smile to himself just thinking of how he would hear Joshua Song’s voice from MIT in only a few minutes. That feeling, regardless of the routine, never got old to Ben.

Home was rolling his eyes because his MacBook charger was nowhere to be found and Ben was sure his father was the culprit. It was walking into his parents' bedroom locked and loaded with a dementia joke.

But it was not finding Chris seated at the edge of the master bed, hunched over with his face in his hands.

The glisten of his father’s wedding ring through the locks of salt and pepper made Ben think of his mother immediately. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he should return downstairs, let her know something didn’t feel right.

But Ben couldn’t remember the last time Chris left him alone in a time of need so Ben didn’t move from his spot — he did, but not backward.

When the courage found him, Ben walked slowly to his father’s side and sat right up against Chris, so their similar shoulders could touch lightly.

“Hey, you know I didn’t mean it when I asked if you were legally blind when you almost hit that guy on the bike this afternoon,” Ben joked, looking at his father, steadily observing what he could. “It’s just something gramma always says to gramps when they’re in the car-”

Ben stopped when he realized, all at once, what was keeping his father from accompanying his mother in watching Netflix till they fell asleep, or being Jude’s model for the night.

Still, he asked because it didn’t process properly to him, “You okay, dad?”

Chris didn’t answer for a long while and Ben listened for something, anything until his father finally said, “I didn’t think I would miss him.”

“Of course you miss him, dad,” Ben insisted, leaning his shoulder a bit more to Chris. “He was your old man just like you’re mine. I’d be crushed if anything ever happened to you.”

“He wasn’t my father like I’m yours,” Chris shook his head, fingers still threaded in his hair.

Ben knew for a fact Chris wasn’t adopted so the meaning of his father’s statement was lost on Ben. But Chris wasn’t finished.

“He didn’t talk to me like I talk to you. Come to my games, take me and my little brother to the movies, tell me he’s proud of me.”

Ben licked his lips because he knew his grandfather was rough around the edges, anybody could see that within five minutes of meeting the man. But what Ben saw now was the result of days when Dean Young’s edges were sharper than the playful roughhousing Ben himself was exposed to all his life.

Chris took a deep breath and brought his hands down to rest in front of him, long fingers languidly interlaced between his knees.

“When I was your age my biggest fear in the world was becoming him.” Chris sighed small before looking to his son for the first time since he entered the room.

Ben found it hard to hold the gaze. There was a red in Chris’ eyes he had never seen before, a shake in his father’s leg he had never noticed before.

“I didn’t call him dad until your uncle Leo got married and he gave this tremendous speech…” Chris sat up a little straighter, hands slipping up to grip his thighs as he struggled to settle himself. “I still have a hard time admitting he turned himself around. That he did good things.”

He cleared his throat.

“Like the good things he did don’t deserve to be recognized because it was all atonement for the things he did before. Every good thing was just to counteract a different bad thing from before.”

Chris looked at Ben again, attempting to gauge a level of comprehension from his son. But Ben only looked away from him, brows pressed together.

It was a while before Ben found the words to match his point but Chris allowed the silence between them.

“Gramps told me and Pax you used to drink a lot before you met mom.”

The words made Chris’ eyes burn immediately, the reaction to a treacherous blend of anger and sadness knotting up inside of him.

“That you got around or whatever. Smoked a bunch. You and uncle Ian just did things without thinking about it.”

Chris had half a mind to deny it but he didn’t.

“But hey,” Ben slowly moved a hand off his own lap to his father’s, taking one of Chris’ stiff hands and clasping it over Chris’ knee. “You don’t make mom’s favorite Spanish rice after every single parent-teacher night cause you feel crappy about the shots from when you were 20, do you?”

Chris looked away from his son, straight down so Ben wouldn’t see the inaudible overflow from his eyes to his cheeks.

But Ben continued to utter his words low, soft as he leaned close to his father. “Didn’t bandage my leg yourself after my first football game cause of all the bars you got kicked out of during college and all the people you never called back, did you?”

Chris did not respond. He would not even try through the tightness in his chest.

“You’re not him,” Ben said firmly, keeping his gaze on Chris even if Chris wouldn’t look to him. “You’re my dad, you’re the best dad there is.”

Ben didn’t say anymore. Not for some time, not while Chris masked small utterances with slow, deep inhales. Ben leaned his head lightly to Chris’ and let his father be.

When Ben finally nudged Chris with his shoulder it was because he has listened to Chris’ breathing for long enough to be able to tell that the man had found his way home.

“Don’t be upset, dad,” Ben insisted, looking at Chris again, “I love you.”

He smiled for the older man, bumping his knee to Chris’. “Hey, I’ll go to college. There, all to see you smile again. Come on, promise I won’t live in the basement till I’m as old as you.”

And Chris smiled right back for his son, small at first and growing the longer Ben spoke.

“I really appreciated this, Ben,” Chris began, standing up slowly so he could step towards the master bathroom. “But I forgot your charger at work today so you did all of it for nothing.”

Home was looking up into Ben’s eyes as the young man began yelling half-heartedly and being reassured that Chris’ worst fear in the world had never been further from reality.

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