Someones out there handing out flares

In the darkness

The door slowly opened. His fathers head sticking out first, cautious eyes falling on Minho. 

His parents stepped inside, their hands clasped together. Minho noticed his moms hands were shaking slightly. He didn't know if it was from anger or fear. It could be quite hard to figure that out with his mother. 

"Sit down," he said, sarcasm dripping of his words. 

His father huffed before they both sat down. His hands clasped together and his gaze fixed on the metal table. 

The silence was almost frightening. 

"You're turning twenty one soon," started his mother. 

Minho nodded. "I am very aware of that." 

His head tugged side ways. Minho quickly repositioned himself. It was becoming harder and harder to control his tics. 

The flash of anger on his moms face was unmissable, but she tried to keep it professional. 

"This means that you will be able to control wether you stay here or not," she stated slowly. 

"We were just wondering what you were planning to do," his father continued. 

The older man of the two didn't look angry. He looked more scared. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and his hands were trembling. The man had small laugh lines near his eyes. 

Minho had never thought of that before. He never had the idea that eventually there would come a moment where he could decide for himself. 

He considered his options for a moment. 

Staying would mean being with his friends, and having free food, a bed and medication. But staying also meant being in his parents grip, not allowed to have a saying in anything that happened to him. 

Leaving could mean homelessness. But it could also mean away time from his parents. 

"We would like you to stay," his mother very rudely interrupted his thought process. 

"For your own safety and others." 

Minho shook his head. 

"I don't wanna be here," he shared with them. 

"But you'll be homeless," his mother said, her voice becoming harsher. 

"I'll take that over being here with you to be honest." His words slipped out before he could think about it. 

 Before he knew it he felt a sharp pain in his cheek. 

He looked at his mom in shock. Her hands were positioned on the table. Ther tall figure leaning over him. Her face was contoured in pure anger. 

"What the-," he whispered. 

"You do not get to speak to us like that," she pointed her finger in his face. "It is disrespectful. We build all of this for you. All of this is for you and you treat us like this? You're so ungrateful," with each word her voice became louder and louder. 

Tears were threatening to roll down his face. His hand was still on his cheek. His skin felt warm under his touch and he knew it was going to leave a mark. 

"Sit down honey," his father tried to consult her. 

"No," she practically yelled in his face. Spit flying everywhere. 

"I went trough hours of labour just to birth this abomination," she pointed her finger in Minhos face again. Her face and his fathers face almost touching.