Hate me. (Minsung)

//3//

•••
it's often said that when granted with familiarity, bonds are more likely to form and sprout.

when one is familiar with something, it's easier for the mind to pick out enjoyable traits and form a subconscious incline to the thing they've slowly become accustomed to.

however this is not always the case.

in fact, there are certain times where the compete opposite can occur.

with familiarity, hatred can sprout.

countless time and time again, he would begin appearing in his house.

during the second occurrence, nothing sprouted. it wasn't a big deal, not even significant enough for it to be bookmarked in a story.

but minho still remembered it.

he had still been six during that second time.

running off the school bus, giant blue backpack engulfing half his body as he excitedly ran towards his front door like he always did.

sweat beading on his forehead from the sun already beating against him, as a giant smile painted his face, with pure excitement buzzing inside his tiny heart to be back home.

his little legs made big strides, his backpack falling off his shoulder and nearly making him stumble through the tall grass as he eagerly made it to his front door.

his excited hands struggled for a moment to twist the doorknob as they always did, but the moment he swung the door open his smile faded.

he looked around for her, eyes big and curious.

usually his mother would be there. her eyes would be bright and just as excited as minho was, as she would extend her arms for a secure hug and ask him how his day was with a shower of kisses in between.

minho looked around again from where he was standing, closing the door behind him and sloppily taking off his shoes to rush and see where his mother had gone and to chase her usual loving reaction.

quickly walking inside some more, he heard her voice.

"have you eaten anything today honey?" that same motherly tone.

minho followed it. he immediately turned into the living room, stopping his steps completely and pausing.

there he was again.

and there his mother was, putting a sizable bandaid on the boy's leg- over a scratch he must've gotten by falling.

minho stared at them.

upon hearing the fast and light footsteps, his mother turned around to see her son standing there.

she smiled brightly. "oh hey sweetie! how was school?" she asked, standing up and brushing her long pink skirt down.

she walked over to him, gently taking his oversized backpack off of him. "are you hungry?"

and minho refused to pry his eyes off of the quiet boy sitting in his living room. despite the lack of tears, he had looked the exact same way he did the first time he was there.

staring down at his knee with the bandaid on it, the mystery boy avoided looking up.

and minho felt a tinge of disappointment still ringing in his chest from opening the front door.

every ounce of excitement demolished, the six year old gave a nod before silently following his mother into the kitchen.

~~~