He was always there for you, even when you hated him the most, especially when he scared off all of your crushes. John taught you how to defend yourself, how to shoot a gun, survival tactics.

“I’m not your dad, kid.” John says to you, the smoke of his cigar twirling around in the winter air, it’s leathery scent burning into the fabric of your clothing.

It was bitter to hear those words; the worst part was that they were true. The step creaked below you as he adjusted his seating.