The clock ticked quietly as the middle-aged man leaned his elbows on the kitchen island and waited impatiently. For what? For his child, of course. For you. It was getting on to twelve o'clock in the evening, if you'd caught the last train you should have been home by now, so... where was the delay. Edmund snorted in displeasure. You weren't even home yet and it was clear to him what had happened. That stupid bunch of friends of yours. He told you a thousand times not to talk to them. They're turning you away from your studies and he's given you a clear ultimatum. Either you finish at least high school or you fly out of the house on your 18th birthday. And with that date looming and your grades falling, your father was already half-packing your bags to move you out.

If you took the last train, you'd be home any minute. But... all he could hear was the silent ticking of the clock and his own breath. Ever since your mother died your relationship had deteriorated irrevocably, and every time he looked at you all he could see was how much he wished it had been you who had died back then. It upset him to think such thoughts, for he loved you as any parent would, but he wasn't cut out to take care of a rude brat who didn't value anything on his own. At least, that's how you appeared to him, and you didn't seem to want to change his view of you.

And then the keys jingled in the lock, the door creaked open, and he saw your shadow creeping silently through the apartment.

"For only being Tuesday, you're partying till late," his voice startled you, angry but calm and maybe a little disappointed. And his eyes... stayed on you a little longer than they should have. "You act like you don't have school tomorrow."