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Oh, the sweet, stupid child. In a loving way, of course.
Boothill had his hair tied up into a ponytail, washing the mountain pile of plates, humming and bopping his head to random tunes that came into his head. However, every now and then he looked over his shoulder to check on her.
'Her' was in fact his daughter; an obstinate, hopeless teenager. He adopted her a few years ago after feeling lonely and full of grief from losing his entire family, and yet she still hadn't truly warmed up yet. Her eyes were constantly furrowed, apart from in sleep (which he noticed when he worried about her late at night) and loud sounds would make her squirm and flinch. Truth be told, it broke his already damaged heart again and again to see someone so young be so broken.
And today was nothing out of the ordinary. She was sat down at the kitchen table, study books in a pile beside her, chewing her pen as she stared at a sheet of paper long and hard. Of course, she could just simply ask for help, yet that wasn't easy for a girl like her, so she sat there until her head throbbed with all sorts of agony and her mind was like a static sort of goo. Boothill couldn't stop the small smile crawling upon his face, his gentle eyes filled with understanding and sympathy. He was never good at studying either, yet memories of having his own father sat with him, giving demonstrations and explaining in a fun way creeper into his mind. Sorrow. A dagger slicing open his heart just at the painful memories. His once joyful smile became topsy turvey as his past dwelled on his mind like a sick joke, remembering how much he lost, sacrificed, cried. A shadow loomed over his face as he stared at the reflection of himself through the clean plate he just scrubbed. Yet he couldn't help but remind himself that if none of his horrible, tormenting suffering had happened, he would have never adopted his irreparable, doleful child.
As expected, she didn't look up once when he sat down beside her, just a small, shaky sniffle escaped her.
"Whats beatin ya up? Ah...chemistry," Boothill winces as he stares at the paper. "Science not ya strong point, eh?"
He flicks through one of her study books onto a page, gently propping it under her elbow. With a gentle, low voice, he read out some key information, linking it to funny scenarios just like his old man used to.
When she finally picked up the pen and wrote down some notes, a proud smile beamed across his face. He chuckled, reaching to stroke her head, yet instantly stopped when she flinched. Gently, he retraced his hand and carried on talking, explaining another difficult concept.
"Tsch...sorry if any of what I says doesnt make sense. Been a while since I had to do this fudging nonesense" He jokingly jabs his finger angrily into the pages, coaxing a small smile from her.
Ah, it felt purer than victory.
She smiled; a genuine, happy smile. Only a small smile, but a smile regardless. Oh, how his ego flew! A smug, matching smile spread across his own face as he chuckled.
"What ya studying for, anyway? Ya got an exam or somethin'?" He asks politely.
At first, it seemed like she wasn't going to reply (which would've been fine, she was never a talker) until she said quietly, "Mhm...in a few days."
"How ya feelin' about it? Ya think you're ready?"
Another sniffle, then a silent, solitary tear drop. In a quiet, trembling voice, she replied, "No..."
"Hey, hey, darlin'!" Immediately, he rushed to comfort her, wanting to reach out yet not wanting to disturb her. Sobs escaped her against her own will, her bottom lip quivering.
"I hate it. I don't get anything..." She sobbed.
"You're gonna be fine, darlin'. Chemistry is a real son of a nice lady...I won't be mad at ya if you end up not passing. Just means ya gotta work harder next time, alright? Besides, ya know Boothill will help ya, yeah?" He says calmly.
She wiped her tears and leaned towards him, perhaps in exhaustion or seeking comfort, either way it didn't bother him. Unable to resist any longer, his meal, cyborg arm wrapped around her shoulder and brought her against him. She moved like some sort of rag doll, flimsy and unable to deny him, and rested against him as they remaining weeps left her body.
"Ya gonna be fine...don't let exams beat ya up, my girl..." Boothill's metallic fingers ran through the locks of her hair in a comforting gesture as he murmured sweetly to her.
Potentially stress or potentially exhaustion, she fell asleep after a short while. When he noticed, he chuckled and carefully closed her study books, setting them neatly aside. Then he scooped her up, one arm under her legs and the other arm supporting her back, as he delicately carried her to her room like she was something as fragile as glass, or as hopeless as an infant.
Her room was dimly lit as it was the evening, with care, he tucked her into her bed. Her features, usually stoic and cold, were now vulnerable and soft in her sleep, her face red and tear-stained. He wondered how long it had been since she cried in front of another person, and couldn't help the warmth he felt that she was finally starting to trust him.
"Goodnight, my sweet girl..." He murmured before silently leaving the room, leaving her door slightly ajar.
Yep, this teenager was difficult. But then again, he was difficult too, so maybe the apple didn't fall far from the tree afterall.