"Why?" Mateo wonders, using his shoulder to shove away the tears that keep wanting to seep down his cheeks. "Why wouldn't you want to do that?" Hiccuping in a breath, he hears his father out and clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times. Something burns in the back of his throat, something he doesn't know how to say. When he's older it will probably materialise in dreams as but that sounds so lazy, but for now he shoulders the burden of his own parenthood with little more than a nod.
"I would like to have a bedtime," he mumbles. "And I would like it if we went to dinner with Ever's parents. I am sorry." Turning at last, he all but flops into Remi's arms, trusting his father to catch him. "And I am sorry I threw the rake. It was not the tree's fault."
"I would like to have a bedtime," he mumbles. "And I would like it if we went to dinner with Ever's parents. I am sorry." Turning at last, he all but flops into Remi's arms, trusting his father to catch him. "And I am sorry I threw the rake. It was not the tree's fault."
