Work Text:
Strange when the most minuscule thing can remind someone of events that happened a long time ago.
There on the door frame, the halfway point between the foyer and the living room, faded lines marked up the entryway. Besides them were faint letters.
C, T, and M.
And a few scribbles made by unsteady hands. There’s even lines redone from when T stood on his toes to make himself taller. The little rascal.
Tron compared, only reaching the third ‘M’ line. The highest point last recorded was labelled C, far taller than where Tron currently measured.
He had forgotten what it was like to the see the top of his son’s heads. He would ruffle their soft hair and get mixed reactions, either nuzzle closer with beaming eyes, or pat his hands away with puffed cheeks. All nothing short of adorable.
Chris’s warm smile, Thomas’s playful nature, Michael’s sweet little face.
He remembered when they all could fit in his arms. When they begged to be held on his shoulders. When he would carry their sleeping forms to bed and kiss them goodnight.
Was that really the last time could that?
“What is it?” Chris asked upon seeing his father lingering in the doorway.
Tron didn’t turn to face him, just wiped something off his face.
“Nothing.”
I didn’t realise how tall you’ve all gotten.