hopeless purpose (dreamnotfound)

foreign

"hey dad?", george calls out blindly into a void house. it holds so many memories, but none of them seem worth dwelling over anymore. it's cold. the leads have disappeared and the case files no longer matter. the mysteries had been left uninvestigated years ago, both for lack of care, and the house's overall hopelessness.

there's not much chance left for reparations to the building. it'll never be fixed into a home again. the past had left it's mark and now the damages were irreparable. all that was left- was for that fact to be accepted.

"i brought some stuff!" george continues pacing into the living room, attentively scanning the house for any sign of life and finding none. it seems abandoned almost. not a single light on, no tv static or biased news channels, and no father waiting worriedly by the door to welcome his son back with open arms.

but that much was to be expected.

it was so contrastingly different from the homely atmosphere he'd only just hours ago. where there was nostalgic record players, warm decor, and even warmer smiles.

this place was the polar opposite. it was on the other half of the equator, freezing over and killing all the sparking greenery. the wildlife died here and their caskets were the dirty furniture that've gone years being unused.

the sole survivor of this vast empty tundra was the small feline that came scampering out from around the corner and into its owner's arms. it must've been lonely- being the last animal standing in an environment designed to kill all forms of life such as this one.

"hi baby," george coos with a smile, pressing little kisses to the top of his cat's purring head. "hey, what's up hm?"

there's no response obviously, but that's still more refreshing conversation than had been made in this house for a long time. he felt guilty for always leaving the cat here by herself. in a way, he was inflicting the very same pain he felt onto his pet, but at least he got the benefit of being able to leave whenever.

but his cat didn't have that, did she. he wonders what she does all day when he's gone. if animals even have the mental capacity to become concerned when he leaves for weeks at a time. it'd be nice to think they do. to have someone or something that cares. but at the same time, then maybe that means he'd been causing an unnecessary world of stress onto an innocent bystander that has no way of coping with it. so maybe it's nicer to believe that animals don't have that ability.

regardless of that- humans certainly do have the ability to worry, it just seems that his father doesn't. at all. maybe that's a conscious choice the man continues to make, or maybe george was just dropped on his head too many times as a child so he lost his charm in the eyes of the man meant to love him unconditionally.

the last remaining room in the house that quite frankly he should have checked already (seeing as though it's the most probable suspect) was his dad's bedroom.

he knocks a few times and there's no answer. but with a deep preparational breath, he pushed through the door anyways. and sure enough, there the man is, just laying in bed stiffly, pretending that he hadn't heard anyone enter the house.

george walks over to the bedside table holding a tupperware of homemade chocolate chip cookies from drista and a winter wonderland scented candle. (whatever that even means)

it's a sad sight really, but one george had gotten used to. his dad wrapped up in a crumpled white comforter, day-old cans littering all flat-top surfaces, and a skeleton of the man who once was. he seems to be withering away even more by the day.

like father like son in that respect.

"i came back dad", he whispers woefully, setting the items down by pushing old trash out of the way to make room.