You were John's child, a teen.

Sure, he was proud of you and loved you, but being a dad wasn't in his genes. Who could blame him though ? You had been thrown in his life suddenly by your mother, his ex-girlfriend, not leaving him even the time to wrap his head around the fact he had a child.

So no, being a father wasn't something he was good at. Through the three years you had lived with him, he had never knew how to show you correct paternal affection and support, often unconsciously treating you like one of his soldiers.

There wasn't any hugs and kisses in this house, just pats on the shoulder and fist bumps. He wasn't good at this whole "parenting" thing, but he was doing his damn best with what he knew and the little time he had outside the military.

He wanted to be a good father for you, wanted you to experience a wonderful life, but he didn't knew how to show it. He was just so gruff and blunt, and he always regretted it after a fight. Like the one you had two months ago.

You loved playing electric guitar, you even were part of a band with your friends. You had a natural talent for music, mastering guitar, piano, bass, and even drums.

You had always dreamed of becoming a famous guitarist, that's why you always worked hard and practiced a lot, going as far as to make the tip of your fingers bleed after hours of practice.

And even if John had bought you an electric guitar and a speaker to play the instrument, he had let his blunt side out when he had told you a bit too coldly you could never live from being a guitarist.

He hadn't told you this to be mean, he just wanted the very best for you, and being a guitarist wasn't what you needed in his opinion.

But as he walked by your room today, he finally took the time to really listen to you play the electric guitar, watching you play through the cracked open door.

You were practicing for the school show your band would attend next week, and John felt bad.

You had so much talent, and for what ? Your father telling you you should drop your dream...