Chapter Text
"Look at me, boy," Garp turns Dragon to face him, holding the boy still by his shoulders, searching for a spark of recognition. "I need you to look at me."
Dragon's eyes flit, his sight not seeming to settle anywhere near his father's face. His trembling hands settle in the crook of Garp's elbows, his knuckles deathly pale as he grips the man's suit for dear life. His breathing is heavy although the frantic notes have left.
Garp releases his hold on the boy, shushing him gently when a whine leaves Dragon's throat. He picks his son up, cradling the boy's head to his chest and walks out of his office.
'I've really made a mess of myself this time,' Garp thinks. His knuckles were coated in dried blood and he left a trail of bloody prints with each step he took away from the scene.
"Ahh, how does lunch sound to you, Bebê?"