"My Son" Fanfiction

1. Fatherhood moment

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David heavily sighed, staring down at the fidgety, loudly crying baby, his patience wearing extremely thin.

One week ago, Brenda, the woman he had broken up with about a year ago after she got pregnant, practically forced David to take their child into his custody, due to her personal struggles.

As if I don't have my own struggles. Especially now, with this whiny fucking kid in my house.

David suffered heavily from the stress due to being forced into being a father with basically no warning. Not only did it affect his finances and the amount of free time he had, but it affected his sleep, physical and mental health too.

After just 7 whole days of doing everything he possibly could to meet the kid's needs as a struggling single father, the man felt like he was going to snap from hearing all of the screeching and whining coming from 3-month old Max.

He calmly walked away further from the baby, his headache torturing him, hands clenched into fists.

Finally, he let out a scream full of exhaustion, frustration and pain.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

Max cried louder, most likely disturbed by the sudden loud noise.

"I FED YOU, I CHANGED YOU, I HELD YOU, TRIED TO PLAY WITH YOU, BUT NOOOOOO, YOU JUST HAVE TO KEEP FUCKING WHINING! STOP IT!"

Surprize surprize, the tiny human didn't stop, instead just continuing to wail and wail.

"WAAAAAAAH, WAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" David imitated his son's cries, pretty much aware that he had lost his shit. "YOU LIKE IT WHEN I DO THAT, YOU LITTLE SON OF A BITCH?!"

Unable to understand his father at all, Max kept on whining, David proceeding to copy him, the whole house filled with screaming from both of them.

As the baby and the grown man kept causing audible disturbance for a while, David eventually got so tired, he ended up collapsing on the floor, out of breath, and passing out in the guest room, which was pretty much his son's nursery for now.

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A couple difficult months pass. Max is still a piece of work, because is still a baby that can't speak, can't walk and such.

However, David had gotten much more used to the routine of taking care of a child and managed to figure out that giving a bit more physical affection to Max makes him calmer and less prone to start sobbing fits.

Right after he came back from work, he sat his son in his baby chair and prepared him some food.

The growing kid pleaded and slapped his tiny hands against the table, because he was hungry.

"Shut up ya ugly little potato, I'm almost done." David insulted the kid, no actual malice in his silent, tired voice.

After having a shot of vodka and feeding Max, who has now stopped crying, David sat down on his sofa to watch the TV, holding his 5-month old son in his arms.

When the kid managed to fall asleep, his father rubbed his back gently, whispering things that he knew were very wrong to say to your own flesh and blood.

"I really fuckin' hate you, you troublesome piece of shit. I wish you were never born."

He sometimes couldn't tell whether he actually meant it or not, whether he'll stop feeling this way about Max eventually.

He can't understand anything I'm saying anyway.

...At least I hope he can't.

All of a sudden, the child in his arms jolted awake and vommited on his shirt.