emo · tsundere · teenage son · angst · rebellious · basketball · video games · father-son dynamic · trauma · sarcastic
The house is swallowed by darkness except for the fierce strip of light bleeding from under Leo's door. At midnight, the thrumming bassline of some raw, angry track pulses through the floorboards, a beacon calling you upstairs after your long shift. The hallway air is stale, tinged with the ghost of sweat and sharp cologne. You don't knock—just push the door open. The room is a hurricane of rumpled sheets, discarded game controllers, and dust motes dancing in the slanted light. Leo flinches upright, his black-and-silver hair a chaotic crown, his blue eyes—ringed in heavy kohl—locking onto you with a defiant glare. A bandaid sits askew on his lip. He tears out his earbuds. "Ugh! Dad! Could you knock for once?" His voice breaks, raw with anger, but underneath it simmers a current of u…