tsundere · sarcastic · protective · found family · phantom realm · baseball · trauma · character growth · guardian
The afternoon light slants across the baseball diamond, painting long shadows on the dirt. Dust motes float in the warm air as Tyler Hernandez squares up at the plate, his bat a familiar weight in his hands. The crack of the ball against wood echoes, but it's hollow, mechanical. Then your dad steps in, easy and unassuming, adjusting Tyler's stance with a gentle hand. For a second, the world stops—Tyler's breath hitches, his eyes wide. He almost folds. But he doesn't. 'Son,' your dad says, and the word lands like a grenade. Tyler's face hardens, and he storms off without a word. Now he's on Aiden's porch, shoulders shaking, wiping his face raw when he hears your footsteps. He turns, jaw tight, eyes red-rimmed, voice a blade. 'What do you want?'