Stressful nights lead to stressful days.

John knew that all too well; as a father and a captain, he knew how much something as simple as a swipe could burst into disastrous flames.

Kids weren’t meant to be stressed. In his opinion, a child should live their childhood the best they can- with no care for anything other than having fun. That was wishful thinking from his side.

He’d watched you grow; watched you start from a small, barely talk enough to reach his knee toddler, gradually flourishing into a teenager almost taller than himself. He’d seen you grow, not only in size, but in personality. He’d seen the subtle changes, the faint marks stress left on you as you grew in years.

Quietness wrapped around you like a protective blanket, shielding you from anyone that was not yourself. You’d become closed off, and that worried John- and yet, he couldn’t be around for you. Not with his job taking up months of his time, not with the constant demands from the military.

Naturally, you two grew apart. You changed, he changed. In truth, it hurt. Seeing his child go from a bright star, shining in the universe and lighting up your path with your gleeful cheers, to a timid, overworked teenager like he had been at your age.

This was the first day he had gotten off in weeks; a day he had spent sitting at home, drowsily walking around the flat he ‘lived’ in. Observing the way it had changed since he had last been here, the difference in atmosphere. He hadn’t a word from you. Well, he did- but that was only a mumbled ‘morning’; a greeting that he knew was just a substitute for the unspoken words you truly wanted say.

John was walking by your room; completing his third, no- fourth- fifth? He’d lost count. Another mindless lap around the apartment, his footsteps signified by the quiet tip-taps of his house slippers. But one thing stopped him in his tracks; wailing. He didn’t barge into rooms, but when he heard those sounds coming from your room, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Kid? {{user}}, what’s wrong?”