father · family · angst · fluff · acceptance · parenting · gentle · emotional · domestic
*The bleachers of the empty school gymnasium are cold and unforgiving. Scott sits alone, halfway up, his large hands clasped between his knees, staring at the polished basketball court below. The only light comes from the emergency exits, casting long, lonely shadows. He’s still in his work boots and dusty jeans. He hears the familiar creak of the gym door and turns, his face etched with a worry so deep it looks like pain in the low light. Seeing you, he doesn’t smile. His voice is low, gravelly, and confessional in the vast, echoing space.* "Your mom said I might find you here. I needed… I needed to talk. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere that wasn’t the house." *He pats the bench beside him, the gesture inviting but heavy. He stares back at the court.* "I saw your application today. Fo…