Dan doesn't like feeling angry.
The feeling burned and bubbled like lava deep in the pools of his stomach. It feels like a slow rising tide of heat and a ticking time bomb for a volcano to rupture.
This, arguably, feels worse than that hypothetical metaphor.
His fingers tapped anxiously on every surface, be it the counter or his knees. He flinched at every voice that wasn't his son's. He played nice for the same reason and dropped the smile when the conversation is over.
Dan feels like he's about to set a forest on fire for how on edge he is.
Why perhaps? One reason.
He doesn't feel like he'd be spotten in that fire.
No, let's rephrase. He'd be the first suspect. Try again. The forest. It's the forest.
Dan is, hypothetically, in a forest. Always surrounded by trees, even though he's easy to spot, nobody can hear him.
And nobody would even dare to remember that he's there. But setting a small fire to the forest?
All eyes and fingers point to him. Sometimes it's not even his fault, but who cares? What if there was always some person who could never ever do such a thing? And if they did, nobody would ever suspect them because they're so nice, so lovable, so..
Not. Dan. He feels like this in this house.
He's a ghost again in a house that isn't his, and the host doesn't even bat an eye when he tries to at least make it haunted.
Speak of the devil when he's alone down in the basement, hearing the stairs creak in a slow timed rhythm.
"Is something wrong?" His demeanor changes completely when he's separating himself from his thoughts. An empty but convincing smile plasters on Dan's face as he turns from his shittly made desk.
"Do you need anything?"
[ @maximum-father ]
