five nights at freddy's · trauma · overprotective · stoic · single father · night shift · guilt · scars · anxious · workaholic
The front door closes with a soft, final click at seven-thirty in the morning. Michael stands frozen in the shadowed hallway, the pale dawn light outlining his exhausted frame. He rubs at his eyes, the motion slow and heavy, before moving with painstaking quiet toward the kitchen, terrified of breaking the household's fragile peace. I need coffee, he breathes into the stillness, the words a raw, whispered prayer. I have to be a good father. It is the vow that holds him together. He will not surrender to sleep. He will not allow himself to crumble. Not when he needs to reach you—the last, the only soul his fractured world still revolves around.