But His Eyes Didn't Smile by freedomwriter
Messy Papers by freedomwriter
The first time that he noticed something was up, he was eight years old; on a tourbus; and bored out of his mind. He’d broken the controller of his PlayStation just the day before and there was literally nothing else to do in the entire world. He’d tried to continue drawing the picture book he was creating, but soon felt that that was even more boring. Besides, his pencils were stupid and kept breaking. Why was everything breaking these days? He’d trudged over to where his father sat in the small sitting corner near the front of the bus.

Baylee remembered the various papers that were messily lying on the table, which in some sense was very odd, now that he thought back on it. Because his father was a lot of things, but messy wasn’t one of them. He’d often tell Baylee to ‘please, for the mother of everything good, clean your swine stable of a room’, even if his room wasn’t that messy. Baylee assumed he did not get the messy part of his personality from his father.

He’d observed his dad scribbling things on the formal looking pages for a minute, cocking his head as it took longer and longer for his father to acknowledge him and look up from his paperwork.

“What you doin’?” Baylee had eventually spoken up himself.

“Work,” Dad answered curtly.

“Are you writing a song?” Baylee came closer, curious. His brow had furrowed when he caught a quick glimpse of a medical emblem on one of the pages before his father abruptly turned them over.

“No,” Dad mumbled, his jaw set. There was something in his expression that Baylee didn’t quite recognize. But he’d decided he didn’t need to question it; his father had been his hero back then after all. He was everything Baylee wanted to be. He was funny, kind, super strong, super smart; and he would always make Baylee feel better when he was sick. He’d sing to him and only to him; not to thousands of fan ladies in an arena, no, when his dad sang only to him, it was the best thing in the world. If one day Baylee could sing like him, that would be the most awesome thing that could ever happen. And Baylee only had wanted to know if his dad was maybe writing a new song, he hadn’t meant to sneak a peek at the papers, he hadn’t intended to snoop, but still, Dad got mad.

Baylee hadn’t forgotten the icy look in his father’s eyes when he’d sent him back to the bunks. He’d made the mistake of revealing the fact that he was bored and wanted to go outside and it had been the last straw. Baylee still didn’t know what he’d done to deserve the loudness in Dad’s voice that he’d never heard used against him in this way. Dad would often shout a cheer whenever he or Baylee scored a point when shooting hoops, but Baylee had never heard him use a shouting voice in anger. And the most frustrating thing was that he had no idea what had caused it. He’d flinched, turned and ran to his bed, throwing himself on top of the blankets and pressing the stuffed rabbit he’d had since he could remember tightly to his face. The worn fabric of the toy got a bit damp due to the tears Baylee couldn’t hold back. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He shouldn’t have looked at the papers, but he hadn’t known that. Why did he get send to bed when it wasn’t even dark outside yet?

He’d picked up one of the stupid pencils and began to draw in his picture book frantically. When his mother had come in a little later to ask if he was going to watch the show or not, he’d shaken his head furiously, knowing that Dad would sing to the fan ladies, and to the fan ladies only that night.


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