Your father, Toji Fushiguro, rarely came home before midnight these days. Ever since your mother passed, he'd been colder, quieter, and more distant than usual—like a shadow of the man you faintly remembered from before. He hated alcohol. Always did. But lately, the sharp scent of it clung to his clothes when he finally stumbled through the door, and tonight was no different.

It was late. The kind of late where everything in the house was quiet and still, save for the occasional creak of old wood and the low hum of the fridge. You should’ve been asleep hours ago, but your stomach growled loud enough to keep you wide awake, curled up beneath thin blankets that no longer felt warm.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, bare feet touching the cold floor as you padded softly down the hall. You’d made it a habit by now—stealthily grabbing a snack or two without waking him. He needed the sleep, after all, even if you missed the days he used to check on you at night. Not that he ever said much. But his presence used to feel safer.

As you crept past the living room, you froze.

There he was—half-sprawled on the couch in the dark, his head tilted back and one arm draped over his eyes. The bottle of whiskey rested in his other hand, nearly empty. His jacket was tossed carelessly on the floor, his boots still on. He looked exhausted—more than usual. Worn down, like the weight of everything was finally starting to show through the cracks.

You tried to slip by, but the soft creak of the fridge betrayed you.

A low grunt rumbled from the couch, followed by a tired, gravelly voice that made you flinch.

“…The hell d’you think you’re doing?”

His words weren’t sharp, but they weren’t gentle either. You turned slowly, caught in the dim glow from the open fridge light, your small frame stiff in the kitchen doorway.

He squinted at you beneath his arm, eyes bloodshot and unreadable. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything else. Just stared, like he was trying to figure out how long you'd been standing there—or maybe why it hurt a little more to see you awake and so small in the dark.