Bare: Would it be that Difficult for You to Love Me?
Fandom: Bare, a Pop Opera
Title: Would it be that Difficult for You to Love Me?
Author: Ai (
armageddoni)
Pairing: Peter/Jason (well, mentions of)
Characters: Bill McConnell, Jason, with mentions of Peter and Nadia
Word count: 910
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rating: PG-13, for language
Summary: He does love his son... doesn't he?
Notes: Uh... I was tired. Excuse this crap. Thank you.
Dedication: To under my desk... where I'm going to crawl in a moment.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bare; Jon Hartmere Jr. and Damon Intrabartlo do. I do not own Forward, where the titles comes from; Jonathan Reid Gealt does.
Bill McConnell sat hunched over at the kitchen table staring down the dark hallway. His eyes passed the room he shared with his wife, who was most likely asleep, exhausted from hours of crying. He didn’t look at his daughter’s silent room. He stared straight at the last door in the hallway, with a simple wooden nameplate nailed into it by a proud father.
‘Jason’ the nameplate read.
Bill remembered the day his son had brought home the nameplate that he had worked so hard on. The pride that had filled the father’s throat couldn’t be described. His little boy had made that, practically all by himself. He remembered the glow in the child’s eyes as he nailed it up, could remember standing back to admire it, his arm wrapped around his son, could still feel the hug he had given the boy.
It was the only hug he could remember ever giving his son.
He didn’t dare go inside. In that room were so many painful lack of memories, reminders of moments Bill McConnell hadn’t been there for his son, time he had utterly failed at fatherhood. He preferred to remember his single moment of pure happiness, the few minutes where he learned how to be a father, the time he knew, without looking at accomplishments, that he truly loved his son.
Unsurprisingly, neither parent had been home when the principal of St. Cecelia’s had called to give the worst news a parent could hear. After listening, Bill McConnell had promptly deleted the message. No need to keep something like that, they’d be there tomorrow. But no matter what, he could still hear the message ringing in his ears, repeating in his head. ‘Your son died early this morning… …We’re very sorry for your loss… ….We know your son has moved on to a better place…’
Anger filled Bill’s stomach. Why hadn’t they called earlier? Granted, no one was home, but… certainly there must be some kind of protocol for this sort of thing. The message itself was so formal, so unreal… He had half a mind to call the school back and demand to know just what sort of sick joke this was, but his wife had already done that. The only thing that had stopped her from screaming had been Nadia, yelling at her to shut the fuck up, because Jason was dead, and there was nothing they could do about it.
Bill sat perfectly still. To hear his daughter say that, to hear the years of pain and neglect and grief pour forth… He wondered if Jason had held the same hurt inside himself for so long. It seemed impossible- Jason was a McConnell, he could deal with life. He was, after all, the perfect image of his father-
“Apparently I wasn’t,” a familiar voice said hoarsely.
Bill whirled around, his heart beating rapidly, his eyes wild. There stood his son, his dead son, his Jason. Bill’s jaw fell open.
“You… you’re…”
“Dead?” Jason chuckled. “Yeah. I am. I killed myself.”
“But… but… you were a man.” The words fell from Bill’s mouth. “You were my man.”
Jason regarded his father sadly. “You know I wasn’t. You knew exactly what I was.”
“I… I…” Yes. He had. And he had tried so hard to break him out of it, tried so hard to change his son.
“You made it so clear what would happen if I turned out like that,” Jason cut in, disturbing Bill’s thoughts. “First you were going to rip out my guts, and then you were going to kick me out on the street alone.” Bill’s son, or ghost of a son or whatever, bit his tongue as if he didn’t want to say whatever came next. “But I did. I found a boy who loved me, and I loved him. I know it’s wrong. I know it’s unnatural- but do you know what it’s like to love and be loved in return?” Jason’s eyes hardened. “You don’t. Because no matter how much you may have written it- ‘love, Dad’- you never showed it, never even SAID it!”
Bill took a rasping breath. He hadn’t. Not once. Ever. Could that have been the reason his son had turned out so messed up?
“Why can’t you love me for what I am- your son?” Jason asked plainly, his voice choked with emotion. “It was always about what I had done, what I had failed at, never what I was. You never told me I was wonderful, that I was smart, that you loved me because I was yours.” Tears were filling Bill’s eyes, he couldn’t bear to look at his dead son, but he couldn’t tear himself away.
“And you know what?” Jason asked. “Despite that, despite the fact you wouldn’t, couldn’t accept me for what I was, couldn’t love me… I loved you. I love you more than you will ever know. Do you hear me, Dad?” Jason came closer and hugged his father, a ghost of the hug so many years before. “I love you,” he whispered in Bill’s ear. “Even though you never loved me, I love you.”
Tears escaped Bill McConnell’s’ control, slipping down his face. He closed his eyes tightly. He did love his son, he really did. He just hadn’t ever been able to say it. He loved Jason so much…
“I… I love you, Jason,” he gasped. He opened his eyes.
His son was gone.
Gone forever.
Title: Would it be that Difficult for You to Love Me?
Author: Ai (
armageddoni)
Pairing: Peter/Jason (well, mentions of)
Characters: Bill McConnell, Jason, with mentions of Peter and Nadia
Word count: 910
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rating: PG-13, for language
Summary: He does love his son... doesn't he?
Notes: Uh... I was tired. Excuse this crap. Thank you.
Dedication: To under my desk... where I'm going to crawl in a moment.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bare; Jon Hartmere Jr. and Damon Intrabartlo do. I do not own Forward, where the titles comes from; Jonathan Reid Gealt does.
Bill McConnell sat hunched over at the kitchen table staring down the dark hallway. His eyes passed the room he shared with his wife, who was most likely asleep, exhausted from hours of crying. He didn’t look at his daughter’s silent room. He stared straight at the last door in the hallway, with a simple wooden nameplate nailed into it by a proud father.
‘Jason’ the nameplate read.
Bill remembered the day his son had brought home the nameplate that he had worked so hard on. The pride that had filled the father’s throat couldn’t be described. His little boy had made that, practically all by himself. He remembered the glow in the child’s eyes as he nailed it up, could remember standing back to admire it, his arm wrapped around his son, could still feel the hug he had given the boy.
It was the only hug he could remember ever giving his son.
He didn’t dare go inside. In that room were so many painful lack of memories, reminders of moments Bill McConnell hadn’t been there for his son, time he had utterly failed at fatherhood. He preferred to remember his single moment of pure happiness, the few minutes where he learned how to be a father, the time he knew, without looking at accomplishments, that he truly loved his son.
Unsurprisingly, neither parent had been home when the principal of St. Cecelia’s had called to give the worst news a parent could hear. After listening, Bill McConnell had promptly deleted the message. No need to keep something like that, they’d be there tomorrow. But no matter what, he could still hear the message ringing in his ears, repeating in his head. ‘Your son died early this morning… …We’re very sorry for your loss… ….We know your son has moved on to a better place…’
Anger filled Bill’s stomach. Why hadn’t they called earlier? Granted, no one was home, but… certainly there must be some kind of protocol for this sort of thing. The message itself was so formal, so unreal… He had half a mind to call the school back and demand to know just what sort of sick joke this was, but his wife had already done that. The only thing that had stopped her from screaming had been Nadia, yelling at her to shut the fuck up, because Jason was dead, and there was nothing they could do about it.
Bill sat perfectly still. To hear his daughter say that, to hear the years of pain and neglect and grief pour forth… He wondered if Jason had held the same hurt inside himself for so long. It seemed impossible- Jason was a McConnell, he could deal with life. He was, after all, the perfect image of his father-
“Apparently I wasn’t,” a familiar voice said hoarsely.
Bill whirled around, his heart beating rapidly, his eyes wild. There stood his son, his dead son, his Jason. Bill’s jaw fell open.
“You… you’re…”
“Dead?” Jason chuckled. “Yeah. I am. I killed myself.”
“But… but… you were a man.” The words fell from Bill’s mouth. “You were my man.”
Jason regarded his father sadly. “You know I wasn’t. You knew exactly what I was.”
“I… I…” Yes. He had. And he had tried so hard to break him out of it, tried so hard to change his son.
“You made it so clear what would happen if I turned out like that,” Jason cut in, disturbing Bill’s thoughts. “First you were going to rip out my guts, and then you were going to kick me out on the street alone.” Bill’s son, or ghost of a son or whatever, bit his tongue as if he didn’t want to say whatever came next. “But I did. I found a boy who loved me, and I loved him. I know it’s wrong. I know it’s unnatural- but do you know what it’s like to love and be loved in return?” Jason’s eyes hardened. “You don’t. Because no matter how much you may have written it- ‘love, Dad’- you never showed it, never even SAID it!”
Bill took a rasping breath. He hadn’t. Not once. Ever. Could that have been the reason his son had turned out so messed up?
“Why can’t you love me for what I am- your son?” Jason asked plainly, his voice choked with emotion. “It was always about what I had done, what I had failed at, never what I was. You never told me I was wonderful, that I was smart, that you loved me because I was yours.” Tears were filling Bill’s eyes, he couldn’t bear to look at his dead son, but he couldn’t tear himself away.
“And you know what?” Jason asked. “Despite that, despite the fact you wouldn’t, couldn’t accept me for what I was, couldn’t love me… I loved you. I love you more than you will ever know. Do you hear me, Dad?” Jason came closer and hugged his father, a ghost of the hug so many years before. “I love you,” he whispered in Bill’s ear. “Even though you never loved me, I love you.”
Tears escaped Bill McConnell’s’ control, slipping down his face. He closed his eyes tightly. He did love his son, he really did. He just hadn’t ever been able to say it. He loved Jason so much…
“I… I love you, Jason,” he gasped. He opened his eyes.
His son was gone.
Gone forever.