"It’s—-" —ok. "You don’t have to—-ok.." Stiles didn’t really know what exactly he was going to say. He just—-really wanted to say something to that—-he could still remember Dad drunk and saying this and that was——Stiles squeezed Dad’s shirt when he was hugged and let go. "I know." he tried, unable to say what he was thinking inside. "It’s not—-I know. You don’t have to worry about that. I love you, Dad. I want you to be happy."
"No, I do." John said, furrowing his eyebrows a bit. "I do worry about it. And I have to say it." He said, pressing his lips together and looking down. He wanted to say it, at least, but he just didn't know how. "I want you to be happy, too." He settled on, lifting his gaze to flick his eyes over his sons face. He cocked his head to the side a bit. "It's all I want for you. Your mother would--- she would say the same thing."












