Kellin Quinn Imagines V2.0

Terrible Things

~ Kellins POV ~

I sit on the couch, head in my hands, crying hysterically. Honestly, Im surprised that I have any tears left. I've been crying for so long. I wipe my eyes and sniffle, picking my phone up from the table, ignoring all the text and call notifications from my friends and family that are worried about me, to check the time. He'll be home any minute. I dont want him to see me like this. I stand up and stumble over to the kitchen, my vision blurred from my tears. With a deep breath, I open the cupboards, deciding what to cook him. More tears roll down my face, as I see the half finished packet of cookies, the endless supply of microwavable popcorn that we've always seemed to have. My hand leaves the cupboard handle, and lands on the kitchen side, as I let out a cry. I dont know if I can do this. I have to. I have to stay strong, for him. How will I tell him? How will I even begin? I shake my head, pulling myself together as best as I can, deciding to cook one of the few meals I can actually prepare without burning the house down: pizza. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and dial the number of the local pizzeria.

By the time he gets home, the pizza is already on the table, sliced up by yours truly, and my fake smile is on my face.
"Hey little dude! How was school?" I ask as gleefully as possible. It hurts so much.
Our son, Logan, smiles slightly "Hey Dad, it was ok I guess." He removes his bag from his shoulder and places it on the floor, before taking his place opposite me at the table.
I grab a slice and press further "Anything interesting happen today?"
Logan shrugs, the same way She does when she isnt opening up to me about something.
I raise an eyebrow "What happened Logan?"
He sighs, knowing that I wont let this slide, now that I know something bad happened to him at school today "Rather than going out with my friends at lunch, I stayed in the art room, I painted a bouquet of Moms favorite flowers, to give to her when we next go see her, and a couple douchebags came in, saw what I was doing, and started making fun of me, calling me a 'stupid faggot' for drawing flowers, rather than playing football like guys are apparently supposed to do. It's ok though, I dont mind, they didnt know why I was drawing them."
I blink away the tears in my eyes. The way he handled that, the forgiving side he showed me just now, it's so like Her. She forgives people, sometimes too easily, but it shows how kind and trusting she is, and then those people that hurt her feel even worse, because she forgives them, and gives them that gorgeous, comforting smile.
"Im proud of you for not getting mad at them. Dont listen to them though, when I was your age, I wasted time trying to do sports, when I was never good at it, if I'd spent more time doing things music related, I probably would've enjoyed high school a lot more. You do what makes you happy, what you're into, and that's awesome!" I comfort him.
Logan smiles at me "I cant wait to give Mom the picture, I think she'll love it!"
I smile back at him, using all my strength to stop myself from bursting into tears "Can I see it?"
He nods excitedly, beaming with pride as he leaves the table to fish his art out of his bag. He presents it to me, placing the A3 sized piece of paper on the table beside my plate. My eyes widen.
"Oh my god! Logan! This is amazing!" I praise. I can tell how hard he worked on this, it really shows. He's so talented, for a kid this age. At just 14, he's drawing things that could be displayed in art museums. He's only 14.
Logan grins "Thanks Dad! Do you think Mom will like it?"
I nod "She'll love it!"
It hurts.
Logan raises an eyebrow "Are you ok Dad?"
I nod again "Yeah, of course, why?"
"Usually, when I ask you anything about Mom, you elaborate, compliment her in some way as you picture her, but just now...you didnt." He's so smart, sometimes too smart.
"Im fine." I answer quickly, before changing the subject "Are you done eating?"
Logan nods, not saying anything as he stares at me quizzically.
I start gathering up the plates, and placing the leftover pizza in the fridge for later, or tomorrow.
"Did you do any writing today?" Our son asks.
"Yeah, I did. I've got a whole new song written, actually." I take some deep breaths.
Our son gasps "It's been so long since you've written a whole new song! Is it for Mom? Can I hear it!?!"
I smile, with watery eyes, as I begin washing the dishes "No, it's not for Mom, it's for you..."
Our son gasps again "Really!?! Excuse my french a sec, but holy shit!"
I laugh slightly "Yeah, I wrote you a song."
Logan stands beside me, and starts drying up the plates I just washed "What's it about?" He asks eagerly.
I turn my head away from him slightly, so that he doesnt see my pained blink. "It's about your mother and I."
"Mother??? You've never called her that before..." Logan is suspicious of me already.
I nod "Yeah. I'll show you it once all this is done."
Our son nods, and we do the rest of the washing and drying up in silence. Not long now.