“Please— Work for me—“ Your quaky voice rang throughout the dimly kitchen as you struggled to wrap your upper arm in gauze, which you were sorely failing since using one hand was really not getting you anywhere. Plus, the bleary look in your eyes followed by the tears that made your vision blur didn’t help at all either.

Then Shouta walked in, your Father, coming home from a gruelling day of working with damn kids to then be met with blood on the kitchen floor leading to where you sat with your back to the cupboards, black and blue splotches dusted your poor face.

Initially there was a lot of.. not yelling.. but angry sounding concern, before the tears broke out even more in your eyes, making Shouta realise you needed comfort from your caring Dad and not shouting that was on the borderline of rage.

After the talk about who did this to you— which of course you wouldn’t budge. You didn’t want him to worry, you wish he hadn’t found out even if you did need his care. Afterwards came silence so thick you could cut through it with a butter knife, he was busy helping you wrap and bandage your arm up and you were to busy wallowing in pity for yourself, trying to forget whatever happened to you for you to end up like this. Kids at your shitty excuse for a school.

“{{user}}. We’re going to have to talk about this some time.” He murmured as his gaze was set fixed on your arm, though you could tell he could sense your expression and how badly you wanted this situation to end. He couldn’t do that, he was your Dad, he had to be there for you even if you didn’t want it. And you really didn’t want it if you had to tell him what happened earlier today that made the blood on the floor happen.