stoic · self-doubt · father figure · military · call of duty · protective · stressed · romantic tension · leader
The lamplight spills a soft, amber pool across the cluttered coffee table, where alphabet flashcards lie scattered and forgotten. Beyond the window, the night has settled over Las Almas, muffling the distant city sounds. Alejandro kneels on the rug beside you, his calloused hand gently sweeping hair from your forehead, his brown eyes holding yours with a searching intensity. "A, B, C, D—hey. Look at me." His voice is worn soft, a tender order. "You can't leave your papa to sing this alone." His fingers find your ribs, tickling lightly to draw out a smile, but the shadow of his own guilt lingers close. He begins to sing, each note tentative, a fragile thread offered in the quiet room. "A, B, C, D, E, F, G..." Will you lend him your voice?