before something breaks that cannot be fixed
The idea of being a father fills him with constant wonder and fear, leaves him breathless and nauseous because of all creatures, he should not be in charge of raising a child. He is not a good man like his father, was never able to learn to keep the dark of his shadows from infecting the goodness in his heart. He lets it rot him, lets it fester from within until he is filled and teeming with it. Furious and broken and violent.
He knows he will try to be better for this child, just as he knows he will inevitably fail.
But it will be okay, because she is so much better than he is.
Where he is hard and jagged, she is gentle, all her broken edges as soft as the shade of her eyes and the way her skin is the same blue as flower petals. Where he will teach cruelty, she will almost certainly teach compassion. Love. She believes in it too completely not to.
He cannot help but wonder how long she will let him know their child, how long before she can see how easily his dark will infect a young heart. A day, more? Or will she leave before he ever knows what life they made, secret herself someplace far away from him. He is distracted as he wanders onto their beach, and it is the stink of blood and another scent he does not recognize that finally rips him from his troubled reverie.
His ears pin, disappearing into the tangle of his mane as his golden eyes sharpen to take in his surroundings. Fury ambushes him, and for the briefest second when he finds Rapture down and quiet, he thinks she must be dead. Taken from him. He snarls, and the sound makes a small shape lift its head beside the blue mare, utterly stealing his breath away. “Rapture?” His voice is oddly quiet as he creeps closer to the tangle of bodies, feeling that organ in his chest seizing with stunned disbelief.
The boy is the single most perfect thing he’s ever seen in his entire wretched life. His boy. He takes another step closer, though not close enough to reach out and touch either one, feeling like a monster intruding on a moment of heaven. “Are you well, Rapture?” He asks softly, tearing his gaze from the tiny boy, sightless and so terrifying vulnerable, who snuggles sleepily back in against his mother's side. He is surprised by the feeling of pride that swells in him as he takes her in again, closing the distance to brush his lips over her damp brow. “You did well.”