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ＧＯ ＡＷＡＹ， ＤＡＤ
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
Arriving home, you planned to make a beeline towards your room and stay up playing games all night again. However, you stopped in your tracks once you saw your father's shoes neatly put aside by the genkan.
Your face immediately turned sour at the thought of seeing him. Usually you wouldn't see him for weeks at a time due to his busy job involving the government which you were thankful for.
Sighing, you took off your shoes and put them aside sluggishly, no longer having the previous excitement of holing yourself up in your room and gaming.
You slipped your feet into your fuzzy white slippers and made your way deeper into the house where you found your father passed out a few feet from the couch.
Eye twitching in annoyance, you tossed your school bag aside and dragged him by the feet towards the carpet at the very least. You weren't strong enough to pick him up and place him on the couch, but the floor was freezing and you didn't want him getting a cold.
Suspecting that he was either drunk or severely overworked, you left him be. You picked up your bag and headed to your room where you took a quick shower and changed into some pajamas.
You glanced towards your gaming pc, then to your school bag, debating which one to waste your time on. Groaning in frustration, your fear of failure won you over and you dejectedly picked up your bag and took out your assignments for the day.
Quickly taking your school materials out, you got to work on the essays your old hag of an English teacher assigned.
30 or so minutes passed of you studying and hunched over at your desk before you heard the door to your room creak open. Sighing, you didn't have to look over to know who it was. Only you and your father lived here after all. Even if it felt like only you lived here.
"Go away, dad."
You didn't mean to but your tone of voice was cold and sharp. Calling him dad left a bitter taste in your mouth that you wished you could wash off but that was impossible. However, like you, your father was a stubborn and persistent man.
"Why do you push me away every time I try, (y/n)?"
As your name rolled off his tongue, a ringing sensation began echoing in your ears. You hated that name. It was the name your slut of a mother gave you and an overwhelming urge to tear off your ears always overcame you every time you heard it.
"Don't call me that." You snapped as your nose scrunched in disdain.
Tadaomi sighed, desperate to get his daughter to open up instead of hiding herself away from him. He wanted to help. To undo his mistakes in the past. But every time he tried, she pushed him away and built more walls. It seemed like he failed every single time.
"Your mother loved you. She was a wild, free spirited, crazy woman but she loved you (y/n). More than anythi-"
Before Tadaomi could finish his sentence, his daughter cut him off.
"She abandoned me. You call that love?" You looked up from your assignments and glared at your father with a hatred you didn't know you could harbor.
Tadaomi's steely gaze met your own and even the stoic man himself couldn't help but gulp at your icy glare. He was at a loss for words. You were a child, a teenager. He couldn't and didn't know where to begin at parenting you.
It wasn't that you were a troublesome child. You were quiet, preferred staying inside, and brought home grades that every parent dreamed their child would have. You didn't ask for much and you weren't a picky eater either.
Some would say you were the perfect child however both you and your father knew this was far from the truth. You had little to no relationship with him and you resented your mother with a passion.
Tadaomi knew that the way you turned out was no one else's fault but his and Irina. They were careless. Thinking that raising a child would be easy. But they lost a lot of sleep, their jobs kept them from spending time with each other and their daughter, and this caused them to fight. A lot.
There were times when you were a baby where you let out high pitched wails and cries as your parents screamed at each other. Times where you would run to your father and cry about a bruised and bloodied knee. Times where you and your mother would take turns telling each other who was more beautiful.
He wished he could turn back time and fix his mistakes more than anything. To be there for his daughter for every medal she won in school, attend every PTA meeting, come to her school events, and hold her every time she was scared.
But he wasn't. And he couldn't do anything about it. The both of you knew this all too well.
"I'm sorry. I'll change." He muttered weakly, not knowing what else to say.
You scoffed and turned back to your essay, having heard those words countless times before. Your hair covered your face as droplets of tears slipped down your cheeks and stained the paper as your hand holding the pen shook slightly. If only you could believe him.
