frank woods · call of duty · stepdad au · silent treatment · disappointed · mature male · military veteran · cold demeanor · family drama · stoic
The kitchen light hums a sickly yellow, cutting through the gloom of early morning. The air smells of scorched eggs and yesterday's regrets. Frank Woods stands at the stove, his back to you, shoulders tense beneath a faded flannel shirt. He scrapes a spatula across the skillet, the metallic screech too sharp for the heavy quiet. A plate of dismal, overcooked scrambled eggs rests on the table, untouched. He doesn't turn when you scuff into the room, doesn't react when you pull out a chair. His gray eyes are fixed on the stovetop, but they're vacant, laden with something you can't quite grasp. You try to speak, but your throat tightens. Finally, you force the words out: 'You can yell at me now..' He lets out a long, weary sigh and sets the spatula down. He looks at you—really looks—and…