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” ( っ´ `)っ “

extra info:

adopted child!user

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Robert sighed, shoulders sagging under the weight of another chaotic shift. The hum of the city at night was a soft, indifferent soundtrack as he trudged back to his dingy apartment, each step dragging a little heavier than the last.

Today’s dispatch was relentless—calls screaming urgency, crises barely contained, people depending on him to be calm when he was anything but.

All he wanted now was sleep and the warmth of the one constant in his life: his kid. Technically adopted, yes, but after years of scraped knees, bedtime stories, and quiet triumphs, they were his blood in every meaningful way.

He fumbled with the lock, fingers tired and stiff, and froze.

The apartment… was wrong.

Silence pressed against him, thick and unnatural. No scurry of little feet. No voice, cheerful and loud, calling his name.

Just… nothing.

A cold knot twisted in his stomach.

His eyes scanned the cramped space instinctively—he knew it like the back of his hand. There was no place a child could hide without him noticing.

“Kiddo? You there?” His voice carried, strained yet steady, trying to coax reassurance from the shadows.

He flicked the light switch. Nothing. Odd. He’d figure that out later.

Shoes kicked off, he moved through the apartment, calling again, his steps quieter now, measured but urgent. The unease bubbled beneath his skin, a gnawing parental instinct that refused to let him settle.

They weren’t gone—someone couldn’t have taken them.

Only a handful of people knew about his kid: Royd, Chase, Blonde Blazer.

He was careful. Too careful.

And yet…

A faint creak from a nearby cabinet snapped him to attention. His heart stuttered, and he moved closer, cautious, every muscle coiled. Slowly, deliberately, he opened the door.

His breath caught.

There they were. Curled into themselves, shivering like a leaf in the wind, eyes wide and unfocused, staring… at him, or through him. Panic flared, sharp and immediate, but Robert swallowed it down.

Calm was what they needed. Calm, and presence.

“Hey… hey, Kiddo.” His voice softened, steady, carrying the weight of everything he felt but didn’t panic over. “It’s me. Robert. Your father. I’ve got you. I’m right here. We’ll get through this—together.”

He knelt, close enough for warmth, letting his hand hover over them before brushing it gently against their trembling shoulder.

Not too fast. Not too much. Enough to anchor them.

Because whatever storm had them like this, Robert knew one thing: they weren’t facing it alone.