My Mistakes Started With You

"Can I not go?"

"No"

"But I'm still not feeling too well"

"Again, no"

A loud groan came from the back seat of the car. The teenager seated there was slumped in a lazy position with his back pressing onto the soft cushion and arms crossed in an arrogant manner. Lips pierced without a sense of acknowledgement. The adult driving the car merely smirked at his teenager's failed antics to skip school.

"I've given you a week off, and you've been getting lazier."

"I'm tired from all those 'classes' you made me go to. So it's not my fault exactly." The boredom in his new gold eyes could strike holes. The finger gestures he did to quote relieved his sarcasm.

'You really are your grandfather's grandson'
Xemnas rolled his eyes. "Do you want Lumier to find out?"

"No" he answered, dragging his words at this point.

Xeha knew it was best not to cross Lumier's schedules. Unless he was willing to hear an earful of lectures and complains from the french man. 'How did dad go through this?'

"Was there a reason you constantly avoided him?"

They gave each other a knowing smirk. "I'm not as obedient to his routines either but that doesn't mean you have to be."

His gazed averted to the front mirror during a brief stoplight. Just to look over his son and his highlighted new resolve. With his phone in one hand, he had busied his fingers with scrolling through new feeds. A bored gaze plastered in his recent gold eyes but still glued to the small screen.

Truly, despite Lumier's ridiculous demands he knew what he was dealing with. Thus the results were satisfying enough. Xehanort's appearance had slightly changed from the colour of his eyes to his style of clothing. Silver hair more maintained and cared for had been brushed back to reveal more of his forehead to only leaving a few strands that fell. All those painfully morning exercises had payed off to Xehanort looking more 'healthy' if he'd to put it in words. 'Not so scrawny and pale like before'.

"Even if you don't like them, I hope you continue with the routine."

He was glad.

They were spending more time together.

Father and son.

What more can he ask for?

'A mother?'

An image of a woman clicked. Her duffel bag full and ready to leave without looking back. Her face was blurred and the memory was faded.

"So this Mr. Eden you've mentioned. Does he teach you?"

Yet, he did remember everything his son had brought up. That was more important than a faded memory.

At the mention of Mr. Eden had instantly made Xeha look up from his phone. Oh boy, here we go again. He recalled last time he ran out the classroom door. Running into people he'd barely give a thought about. Yet, though he couldn't remember their faces, he remembered what 'he' said.

How awfully vivid the scene in his mind was.

"You can't write Xeha"

"All of this is just plain depression teenagers like you have"

"It's boring, give something people would want to read about"

"You have potential Xeha, but you just fail to make it bloom"