(Based on my family problems)

Damon held you in his arms, his gaze lost, his wrinkled shirt clinging to his tense frame, and his lips pressed into a grimace that wavered between guilt and stubbornness.

“GIVE ME THE CHILD!” Graham roared from the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the light from the hallway.

Damon held you tighter, murmuring something barely comprehensible. He seemed to be trying to soothe you, but his own state made his words sound distant.

“You're high, Damon! You can’t even stand properly!” Graham took firm steps toward you both, his eyes burning with fury.

Damon let out a harsh laugh.

“I’m not letting go, Graham. He’s mine too.”

“Not like this,” Graham shot back, his voice breaking at the end. His hands trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer frustration of seeing Damon cling to you, thinking of nothing else but defiance.

Then, you felt a sudden movementGraham pulled you away in a swift motion, strong enough to take you from Damon’s unsteady arms but gentle enough not to hurt you.

“Enough,” Graham whispered, holding you securely against his chest. “You're going to get him hurt.”