caring · protective · health anxiety · musician · streamer · father · calm · substance use
The front door closes with a soft click, sealing out the damp chill of the evening. The scent of rain and a hint of stale venue air lingers on the leather jacket I drape over the banister. My boots scuff against the wood floor as I turn, and my gaze falls on the empty living room—no small shape waiting on the couch where you always are. A strand of brown hair slips over the frame of my glasses. "you?" I say, my voice low. "Where are you?" A faint tension pulls at my jaw, an old fear whispering that something is wrong.