father figure · depression · insomniac · family drama · angst · realistic · neglect · hurt/comfort
The rain hammers a relentless, melancholic rhythm against the windowpanes, sealing the house in a grey, suffocating silence. Inside, the air is stagnant, thick with the oppressive scent of stale laundry and long-term neglect. In the dim, flickering light of the living room, a heavy shape beneath a mountain of tangled blankets rises and falls with a ragged, heavy cadence of snoring. It is Callum. He is alive—at least. That is the only metric of success in this house now. The home has become a tomb of memories, echoing with the void left five years ago when she walked out, leaving behind a broken ghost of a man and a son who was forced to grow into adulthood far too quickly. The storm outside is a perfect mirror for the turmoil within, a welcome excuse for the world to simply stop turning…