I leaned back into the armchair and let out a long painful sigh, pressing my fingers against my temple like that might somehow organize my thoughts. (Which… yea, no.)
My living room looked exactly the same as it always did— quiet, a little messy, completely mine— except now there was crayon on the coffee table and a pair of tiny shoes abandoned in the middle of the floor.
(Fuck…)
"So like… where am I again?"
"Dad!!! Dad! Look at this drawing I made for you!"
(Right.)
I lowered my hand and looked down at the small girl rushing toward me, holding up a slightly crumpled piece of paper like it was something priceless, her whole face scrunched with barely contained excitement.
I took the paper from her, studied it for a second— me, presumably, drawn in what appeared to be a 'purple' crayon with a head roughly the size of a watermelon— still, gave her a light pat on the head.
"Oh… this looks cute."
That was all it took. Her entire face lit up like someone flipped a switch deep inside her chest, eyes sparkling, bright and completely unguarded, and she beamed up at me with the kind of happiness that doesn't know how to be subtle yet.
Then she threw her arms around me without a second of hesitation, squeezing tight like it was the most natural thing in the world— like she'd been doing it her whole life instead of exactly three days…?
(Right. So I have a daughter now.)
I stared at the wall for a moment, letting that sink in. My hand moved on its own, gently patting her back while my brain quietly tried to locate itself somewhere in all of this.
"Well. This is… durable," I muttered under my breath, not fully sure what I meant by that.
Another sigh slipped out— heavier this time, the kind that starts somewhere behind your ribs. "I wonder how this happened… and this annoying thing that appeared before me."
「[Accept / Decline] :D pick!!!」
The glowing text hovered lazily at the corner of my vision, bright and cheerful and incredibly, aggressively annoying.
I'd been swatting at it for days. My hand passed through it every single time. It didn't care. It just kept floating there, smiling its little digital smile like it had all the time in the world and found my suffering charming.
I glared at it. It glowed back. I looked away first.
That thing's been following me since the night before all of this started.
***
(Probably, 3 days ago? (⸝⸝⸝╸▵╺⸝⸝⸝)...)
Three days ago, the city was quiet in the way it only gets past two in the morning— that particular kind of quiet that feels less like peace and more like everything holding its breath.
Neon signs flickered overhead like dying a fireflies, throwing uneven reds and blues etc color across the empty pavement.
The sky was a heavy, starless grey, clouds packed so thick you couldn't tell where the city light ended and the actual sky began. Trash moved lazily along the gutter, pushed around by a wind that couldn't quite decide where it was going.
I'd gone out for a walk. No reason, no destination, just me and the road and this strange static buzzing at the back of my head that had been there all evening— subtle and restless, like something just out of sight was pressing gently against the edges of the world.
I'd been trying to shake it for hours. Walking usually helped. Tonight, it just kept buzzing.
(No, actually it's my first time doing this walk… tehe.)
Then something rustled.
I stopped. Looked toward the sound— a dumpster, halfway down the block, half shadowed under a flickering streetlight.
Normal, probably.
A cat, maybe.
Trash settling. I should've kept walking and I knew it, but curiosity has always been a problem of mine, so I didn't. I changed direction without really deciding to and crossed toward it, and the buzzing in my head got just slightly louder the closer I got.
(What was that…?)
I leaned in, pushed aside a bag of someone's discarded takeout, and froze.
There was a kid curled up inside. Small, way too small, I mean, not that small, but just small, she was buried under scraps and broken things like she'd been trying to disappear into them.
She had on what used to be a hoodie— dirty, fraying at the cuffs— and her arms were wrapped tight around herself, trembling steadily in the cold. Her breathing was shallow and quick. She hadn't noticed me yet.
I stared for a second. Then two. Then I said, very quietly to absolutely no one, "Okay. Wow."
I straightened up, rubbed the back of my neck, and stared at the sky for a moment like it might offer me something useful.
It didn't.
The streetlight above me flickered once, and for just a split second I thought I saw something— tiny motes of light drifting through the air around the dumpster, like some stardust, like particles of something that didn't belong to this part of the world. I blinked and they were gone.
(Sure. Why not.)
I reached in carefully and lifted her into my arms.
She was light. Genuinely, disturbingly light— the kind of light that makes you do a little mental math you don't want to do. Her eyes opened the moment I moved her, and the second she registered what was happening, her whole body went rigid.
"W-what are you doing, MISTER!?"
"Okay— yeah, that sounds bad," I said immediately, wincing. "That sounds really bad, I know, but listen—"
She weakly tried to pull away, her hands pushing against my chest without much behind it. "You looked cold and miserable over there, so I couldn't really ignore it."
"P-please… don't hurt me…" Her voice was barely a whisper— so quiet it almost dissolved into the cold air before it reached me.
Something in my chest went very still. "Hurt you? No. Of course not. I'm not that kind of person."
Without really thinking about it, I reached up and gently patted her head, the way you might try to reassure a stray animal— and she flinched. Not the small, instinctive kind of flinch. The deep kind. The kind that's been trained into someone over time, the kind that lives in the body before the brain catches up, the kind… okay I will stop.
I pulled my hand back, slowly, and didn't say anything for a second. "Kid… do you have somewhere to go?"
She shook her head, lips trembling. "N-no… the orphanage… they were mean… so I left…"
The air felt colder after that. Or maybe that was just me. I exhaled through my nose and looked down at her— this small, shivering, stupidly brave kid who had run away from the only place that was supposed to want her… doesn't want her… yea, nevermind— ended up in a dumpster, still somehow breathing, still somehow holding it together.
"I see." My hand moved again, slower this time, softer, shifting from awkward pats into something that was maybe actually trying. "That's rough."
"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm used to being alone."
I stopped. Just for a second. Then I gently brushed her messy hair away from her face, tucking it back so I could actually see her. "Well," I said. "Don't get used to it anymore. Starting today, I'll take care of you."
I paused, then added, mostly to myself: "Didn't know I was good at this."
She stared at me like I'd said something in a language she'd heard of but never actually learned, eyes wide and searching, scanning my face for the catch, for the part where it stopped being real.
A tear tracked silently down her cheek. Then she grabbed onto me— both arms tight around my neck, face buried in my shoulder, her whole small body trembling— and something about the way she held on made it pretty obvious she wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon.
"You're not going to leave me too… right? P-please… don't leave me again…"
Again. That word hit different and I filed it away for later, the way you do when you know something's important but you don't have the bandwidth for it right now.
"Sure," I said simply, adjusting my hold on her so she'd be a little less likely to fall. "But first we're going home. You need a bath."
Something cold then tapped my shoulder. Then another drop.
I looked up— the sky had opened up, just like that, rain coming down in earnest now, and she curled closer instinctively, a small sound of protest escaping her.
I smiled, faint and a little tired and surprisingly genuine.
"Let's go home." I started walking, pulling my jacket slightly around her against the rain. Then, quieter: "Our home."
She went completely still in my arms. Just for a moment— one breath held, one second suspended. Then, soft as anything. "O-our home…"
She said it like she was trying to memorize the shape of it. Like she needed to say it out loud to believe it was a real thing that she was allowed to have.
The rain came down harder around us and she tucked her face back into my shoulder, arms tightening until I could feel the effort in them.
(This rain…)
"Thank you… thank you so much…" Her voice shook badly. "I promise I'll be good… I'll be the best daughter ever…"
I didn't say anything back. I just walked, and kept walking, and let her hold on as tight as she needed to.
———
WE'RE GONNA AIM FOR TOP 1 IN WSA!!!! LETS GOOOO... well uh....ngl I don't know if my book is interesting but... Like yk I might waste your time... But ty if you're gonna read it *HEART* November 21:2nd rewrite. 2026:may23: 3rd rewrite... Please be last since it's fun to write using this style...