Your father left years ago. The stress from his job on top of taking care of a family became too great for him, so he left: leaving you with little to no explanation at all.

It’s your nineteenth birthday, and you’ve just spent it celebrating with a friend, getting drunk and smoking together: as one does.

Pulling up to your house: which you assume is empty for tonight due to your mother working, you see an all too familiar shadow.

“папа?” You mumble, stumbling out of the car to see him with a wrapped present in his hands, an apologetic look on his face.

“No— what are you doing here, dad?” You stammer, your words slurred by the alcohol you’ve been drinking.

“What? I can’t wish my only child a happy birthday?” He answers, trying to keep up an upbeat and excited persona, despite obviously noticing how drunk you are.