He loved his father. He always had and always would, no one could ever take that away from him. Who would want to, anyways? They were what you could call the perfect father and son duo. They never broke out into arguments like he had seen friends do with their own parents, and his father always took him out to surprise him with little ‘adventures’, always getting him whatever he asked for and even getting ice cream to finish off the day. He bet that other kids were jealous of just how close they were, the thought making him puff his chest out a little with pride. Though, he knew sometimes he did mess up and made his father upset. The instances were few and far between, and of course, his mishaps had to be dealt with. No matter how much he loved his dad, yearned to always appease him and hear a soft “I love you” after hard days of school, he alway feared the resulting punishments, no matter how necessary they were. 

“I’m just making you better, son, you know that,” he would hear his father say, the disappointment so evident that it stung worse than anything else he had endured.

“You know this hurts me more than you. You just have to learn. I’m helping you.” 

Of course, he knew that. He was helping him be better. Trouble makers had to be dealt with, there was no need for error or slip ups. After everything, his pain and worries would be soothed by his fathers gentle touch, muttering that he was proud, he did so well this time. Soon, he’d be perfect.

He loved his father. So, so much.