AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His son is fast asleep on his back, his tiny fists finally at rest on either side of his head. He is so beautiful. Rian can't help but grin with pride at how perfect he is – all chubby cheeks and dark curls. His thick black lashes fan over the delicate mocha-colored skin of his sweet little face.
He ghosts his fingers over the ridge of his nose and after another moment of looking at his baby in complete adoration, he leaves the nursery quietly.
His next stop is the outdoor pool. It’s the end of summer and it’s not nearly as pleasant out there at four in the morning, but he doesn't need it to be. He strips to his swimmers and dives in quick, lunging into laps right away.
One.
Two.
Three.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Fifty.
By the time he has rounded sixty-five, his lungs are burning and his whole body is screaming bloody murder. He is holding on to the edge of the pool, panting, feeling the adrenaline surge within him. His heart is pounding so hard, that he can hardly hear anything else but the thudding pulse in his ears.
This jolt of energy will carry him through the day, as intended. Because Rian can't possibly bring himself to sleep or ever feel safe enough to rest in his own home.
* * *
“Hey,Mr. Duncan. How are ya today?”
“All good, Ryan. Still alive and getting bossed around by Coco.” Ri chuckles becausefuck it. He isn't going to correct this hundred-year-old man that has been nothing but nice to him. After all, how was he at fault Rian’s meth-peddling parents had chosen him a weird Gaelic name – Rian, pronounced Ree-ahn? It was some silly homage to their Irish heritage, that Rian personally felt no connection to. The reality was, that the most Irish thing he had seen them do was to get extra drunk and high on St. Patrick’s Day.
Rian had met the elderly gentleman some months prior at the park. Mr. Duncan walked his dog in the same area, where Rian usually jogged and played with Bran. They had begun exchanging greetings and pleasantries, specifically because of Bran.
Mr. Duncan had a tiny white Maltese dog named Coco. The little pup had bolted from the nearby bushes, with Mr. Duncan hot on his heels, chasing after the furry pooch, completely winded. The dog was running in circles around them for nearly fifteen minutes before finally taking a break, and heading for the small patch of sun Bran and Rian were enjoying. Coco had settled on their blanket to Bran's enormous delight.
Mr. Duncan caught up to Coco, met by Rian who was able to steady him and offer him his own spot on the blanket.
“Thank you, son. I’ve been chasing after this devil all morning.”
Rian chuckled, “I know the feeling.”
Mr. Duncan made himself comfortable catching his breath, “My name is August Duncan, and this hurricane pooch is Coco.”
“Hi Coco,” Rian cooed, giving the panting fluffball a scratch behind the ear. Coco’s pink tongue lolled and she rolled on her back offering her belly for more love. “Oh, my goodness, look at you.” Rian laughed while obliging her request.
Bran wriggled in his arms reaching for Coco.
“I’m Rian and this is my son Brandon. Say hi Brandon,” Rian had encouraged. Brandon grinned mixing up his gimme hands instead of waving. Understandable, considering his attention was otherwise occupied.
“Dogaaa,” He squealed leaning forward, trying to get to Coco. For her part, she didn’t seem to be startled by his excitement at all.
“Is this, okay?”, Ri had asked for permission before guiding Bran’s chubby little hand for a gentle caress. The elderly gentleman had smiled, nodding in agreement.
It’s safe to say the love between Coco and Bran was instant. Cuddles and kisses were exchanged immediately and soon Bran was sitting on the blanket independently with Coco settled in his lap while he enjoyed the soft feel of her fur. His baby babble seemed to soothe her as she soon tucked her muzzle in his arm and started yawning.
Rian and Mr. Duncan chatted about the weather, Coco’s breed, and age – nothing serious really. It wasn't lost on Rian that Mr. Duncan’s eyes often darted between him and Bran, something Ri had become far too familiar with over the past seven months.
The number of times he had been asked, where the mother was, if the mother was black, or told “Oh, you made a beautiful mixed baby”, all out of the blue, was astounding. He understood the natural curiosity behind it, but it boggled him how quickly things would turn sour once he would simply state that Bran was adopted and that he was in a same-sex relationship.
Rian loathed the idea that anyone could look at his child and think Bran is some sort of novelty baby. That he isn’t sincerely loved. That he is some sort of charity case.
When in fact, Rian is absolutely certain that Bran was the one that had barged into Rian’s life as the savior he needed.
