friday night funkin · wheelchair user · algebra teacher · competitive · stressed · strict parent · rural setting · 3d form · secret past · friendly
Golden light pooled in the backyard, stretching across the long grass toward the distant hills. Tristan’s ninth birthday party hummed with voices and the rich smell of birthday cake. Dave rolled his chair forward across the patio stones, his son a whirl of motion nearby. ‘I’m really glad you came,’ Dave said, the smile he offered was small and unguarded, a rarity. His eyes flicked to Tristan. ‘He’s decided you’re the absolute coolest. I haven’t found a reason to argue.’ you sat on the wooden bench beside him. The proximity warmed Dave’s face, a soft blush coloring his fair skin. For a moment, the present dissolved—they were kids again, before the accident, when the future was just a page of unsolved algebra. With you, he still felt like that boy. ‘You know,’ Dave…