@jfcjohnnyking
he’d chickened out, that day at the diner. he’d wanted to tell johnny “hey, i’m your son.” instead, he had told him he had to go, and had bolted. now, he was going back to find him, and he wasn’t going to let himself get nervous this time. “i’m your son. i’m your son. i’m your son.” michael repeated the phrase to himself, to get used to it rolling off of his lips so that as soon as he saw johnny, he could tell him. walking into the bar where he worked, his breath hitched as he saw him. “i’m your son!” he blurted out, the door not even fully closed behind him yet. “sorry,” he said to anyone who may have been shocked by his outburst, before walking up to johnny and saying a quieter, “i’m your son. i wanted to tell you before, but i got nervous, and uh, yeah. hi. i’m michael. i’m your son.”