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"Come. Let's drink, son. That coffee will not make you sleep, this will."

Asher darted his eyes at the glass of scotch and his father's playful grin. Maynard reached for another glass stored in the drawer as if he already knew his son's answer. At times like this, Asher couldn't help but wonder why his father was like this.

"What kind of father invites his son for a drink?" Asher muttered, leaving the kitchen as he marched toward the bar counter. He dragged the stool across Maynard, perching on it leisurely.

"Who knows? Maybe, me? Since I'm the cool dad." Maynard laughed, sliding the glass to his son sitting opposite him. Picking up his glass, his brows rose. "Cheers?"

"What for?"

"For surviving today!" Maynard's lips stretched from ear to ear, making Asher shake his head. Still, in the end, clinked their glasses and took a sip. Both of them hissed, sucking air, filling their chest with the heat of the whiskey.

This was probably the first time they drink together. If they didn't count all those drinks, they had during events or meetings.

"Ash, you shouldn't stay up too late or cramped yourself inside that room of yours." Maynard licked his lips, leaning his arms against the edge of the counter. "Go out and have a bit of fun, eh? You're still young, and you already proved yourself to everyone many times. Relax for a bit."

Easy for him to say that.

Asher lowered his eyes and shrugged. "I'll try," he answered half-heartedly, raising his glass to his lips.

What Asher didn't notice was the sadness in his father's eyes as he watched his son take another sip. That emotion quickly disappeared when Asher lifted his eyes, tilting his head to the side.

"I'm terrible, am I?" Maynard said out of nowhere, making Asher's brows elevate. "A terrible friend and a father. Man… I feel like going insane."

A terrible friend? Asher didn't know that, and that was the first he heard his father say that. However, his attention focused more on Maynard admitting he was a terrible father. He was. For Asher, he was. No one could change Asher's mind.

'Sometimes… I want to ask what he was thinking,' thought Asher, watching his father laugh weakly as he downed a glass. 'Why are you like this?'

"Why haven't you asked about Luke?" Asher inquired after Maynard put down his glass. "Don't you care about him anymore?"

Maynard smirked. "You think so terribly of me, son." He laughed, stretching his arm to get the bottle.

"Although I told your brother to do what he wants, I'm still his father. As a father, I am worried about him, but I'm glad he is doing well. He looked happier, and I'm glad he is," explained Maynard as he poured himself a glass. "He kind of reminds me of my youth. Good times. Conrad had always been the party pooper, so Rocco and I would usually just force him or drag him."

"He used to glare at us, but the guy wouldn't know the word fun if we didn't do that." Maynard laughed as he reminiscence a part of his past. "But we know deep down, he sort of enjoys it as well. I mean, if he really hates it, he would've ditched us the first time."

Asher blinked ever so tenderly, tilting his head to the side. "Who is Rocco?" he asked out of plain curiosity. Asher knew that his father and Conrad had always been friends since high school, but never once did he hear a person named Rocco.

"Huh?"

"You said you and this guy Rocco. I haven't met him," Asher explained nonchalantly. He had also met his father's batch mates or schoolmates; most of them had made a name in the business industry. Some were the Quinn's business partners while others excelled in their fields. He believed he was good with names, so Asher would immediately recall this guy Rocco that was only mentioned now.

"Ahh…" Maynard's smile slightly faded, lowering his eyes. "Right. I think I haven't mentioned this before, but I had this friend back in high school until college. He was my friend and Conrad, too; the three of us were like brothers."

There was this complex emotion that pooled in his eyes. It was nothing like the softness he had in his eyes before, but something Asher couldn't explain in words.

"Rocco was the nicest guy I met in my life, and he is the most fun." His smile remained but his tone was somber. "Although he came from a humble family and only entered the top academy through a scholarship, Rocco was quite popular. He was charming, kind, smart, and very likable. There's only a few who cared about his humble background, but well, with Conrad and me as his buddy, he had quite a peaceful life."

Maynard glanced at his son and shrugged. "You know, kids. Bullying isn't a new thing."

"I see…" Asher rocked his head, observing his father's demeanor. "So where is he now? If he is that amazing, why hadn't I heard of him until now?"

"Well, things happened." Maynard shrugged once again, forcing a smile to his face. "I don't know where he is now, and I didn't want to know."

"Why?"

"Because there's no point. We're already adults and lived our lives with our families." Maynard lowered his eyes once again. "Also, I don't think I have any courage to face him. I owe him a debt, after all. An enormous debt that no amount of money can cover."

Asher furrowed his brows, but before he could ask anything, Maynard flashed him a kind smile. His father raised a hand and ruffled his hair.

"Son, no matter what, I'll always protect you and your brother," said Maynard gently. "Your dad isn't the kindest and I've done things that still haunt me to this very day. So, I only wish for you and for your brother to live the life you want. Though… I don't think my words matters now, do they?"

Asher kept his eyes on his father, keeping his lips in a thin line. No, they didn't matter anymore, was his answer. Asher was already used to this life he had been living, and he couldn't think of any other life than the one he already have.

Maynard sighed. "I'm sorry, son. For being a terrible father." His expression softened while Asher's heart slightly thudded.

Asher balled his hand into a fist on his lap, but then loosened them. He wanted to get angry at his father, but those words, 'I'm sorry,' somehow comforted him.

'At least he knew he should be sorry,' was what Asher thought, picking up his glass, and drinking whatever emotion that was stuffing their heart away.