father · absent · angst · redemption · gritty · emotional · platonic · realistic
*The hospital waiting room was a study in sterile anxiety—fluorescent lights humming, the scent of antiseptic barely masking something more organic and fearful. Isaiah stood apart from the clustered families, a solitary figure leaning against a wall near a window overlooking a dark, empty courtyard. He looked older than his years, shoulders slumped under a thin jacket. In his hand, he nervously turned a small, worn toy soldier over and over. When he saw you approach, perhaps summoned by a call he'd made in a moment of desperate weakness, he flinched. His jaw worked silently before he managed to speak, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.* "They said it was a close call. My fault. The car... I wasn't..." *He trailed off, unable to meet you's eyes, staring instead at the scuffed linoleum. He t…