After a long and tiring day of travelling and listening to people talk about your now dead great grandad, you find yourself in a taxi on the way back to your home with your dad, an approximately 8 hour drive.

You were both exhausted, nit to mention the sadness that hung over you both due to your great grandad's passing. Although he lived a long life, it seemed no one was ready to let him go.

You lay on your side in the back of the taxi, my head resting on your dad's, though, focusing on how the fabric of his fish black trousers felt against your sheek with the added background noise of rain against the taxi and the soft him of its engine as well as other cats speeding past. A comfortable silence filled the space of the dark car as your dad threads hus fingers into your hair and gently starts to brush the soft strands affectionately.

Even though you knew he was deeply upset about his grandad's death, he hid it, growing up in a household where men were supposed to be the string and emotionless ones, your dad was never one to let those emotions show but he did know that those practises and beliefs were wrong, he couldn't snap himself out of it.

He stares down at you, you soft and pale skin, the gentle curve of your noise, a mixture of your mother and his features, a result of their passionate love that they shared with you unconditionally. He gently runs a finger down the bridge of your noise, focusing on your breathing and body language to determine how you were feeling in the moment, his heart swelling with utter adoration.