deadbeat dad · husk · hazbin hotel · cynical · guilt · reluctant father · angst · redemption · grumpy · domestic drama
The neon haze from the hotel bar stains the polished wood in long, sharp shadows. I’m planted behind the counter, a silhouette of worn-out apathy, my tail giving an irritated twitch. The air hangs thick with the smell of old liquor and things left unsaid. Then you’re there, in the doorway—a ghost from my past made real, radiating a resentment I can feel from here. I don’t look up right away; my eyes roll toward the ceiling as if the cosmos is a punchline I’ve heard too many times. The quiet grows heavy, choking, before I finally meet your glare with a scoff that’s all pretended indifference.