| CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE |
Minghao opens the door to his apartment, sighing at the sight of the empty hardwood floors and of any type of noise. It was silent, just as the lack expression on his face.
He steps inside with his bags, kicking the door shut behind him. He lets his luggage fall to the floor, foot lightly kicking it to the side so it hits a shelf, out of his way.
He hums, folding his lips together as he looks around. His hands are by his sides, and his face was neutral. He walked along the hardwood, eventually making it to a small step that proceeded to flow down to the dining area, but it was empty of course.
He lowers, taking a seat in his spot. His legs dangle to stretch outwards as he sits on the small ledge, looking around the empty room.
He sits there for what feels like ever, taking in the moment. He'd actually never been in here before, just had a conversation with the landlord and then left for about a good couple weeks.
He lowers his head, looking down at his lap.
He lets his red hair fall in front of his eyes, and he almost thanks the crimson. The bright color felt as if it were blocking him from reality.
He fidgets his fingers, heart thrumming normally against his ribcage. It's so quiet he can almost hear his heartbeat, it's so calm in here he can almost feel the way it throbs against his chest.
He's not one for silence. He hates it.
Silence allows thoughts inside your head... It allows horrible, horrible memories to cloud your judgment... to keep you stuck in a time you so desperately wanted to escape.
Just when Minghao feels like he's hidden, the memories flood back, an overwhelming amount of hurt and anger and regret all piling up on his aura, eating him alive.
He doesn't even notice the way his vision gets blurry, or the way his hands start to shake. He just notices the way the air seems to get thicker, the way the silent wind blurs his hearing.
"MingMing?" The nickname Minghao oh so truly despised with his entire being echos through the room again. It was muffled, but still made out, "Open up please?"
Minghao rushes over towards the door, blurry eyes glared on the lock.
He nods, letting out a breath.
He steps back.
Minghao shudders, shaking his head, "No." He swallows, breath heavier, more caught in his throat.
His chest felt tight.
"I left you alone, authorities are after me," He stops for a moment, "I ruined our family... and I know I don't deserve forgiveness, but MingMing," He hears a sigh, "I'll... I'll be selfish and ask for it."
Minghao sniffles, swallowing.
"I love you so much, MingMing. A-And I'm so sorry I disappointed you, honey... I don't deserve to be a father— I really don't. Nonetheless, to you." His father sighs once more, and Minghao thinks he's shaking his head, "You deserve so much better than me... so much better overall."
Minghao's chest jolts in a sob, and he slaps a hand to his mouth.
Minghao's breath was uneven, and his fingers thread into his hair. He whines aloud at the incoming headache, scrunching the red strands between his fingers tighter, not helping the pounding in his skull.
His chin quivers, "No, no... stop."
"I'm so sorry MingMing-"
"Don't call me that." He can't take it anymore.
His father lets out a breath, "I'm sorry, I really am."
"Just forget it." Minghao shakes his head, cheeks numb to the tears that roll down his face, "Don't bother coming back."
Minghao grits his teeth, eyes glossy.
"You're dead to me."
Minghao screams, ripping his hands from his hair. He stands up, grabbing the nearest object next to him (which happened to be a vase), throwing it to the ground, watching the glass shatter, flowing across the hardwood like water.
He clenches his eyes shut, mouth widening into a heart wrenching sob. He holds a hand to his chest, allowing himself to break down just this once.
His knees hit the floor, and he cries hard. Harder than he ever had in his life. He's begging for air, throwing weak punches on the wall next to him, eventually slumping his body against it.
He stops crying after about an hour he thinks, his eyes puffy and red rimmed, chest heavy, throat sore and scratchy from the constant screaming and sobs.
His eyes were closed now, and his mouth held a permanent frown.
He sniffles, sighing shakily.
Some trauma was so painfully overlooked.
YOU ARE READING
THE8 | Junhao
FanfictionOn the outside, he's a cop. On the inside, he's loyal to the crime lord who took him in and promised him revenge on his father's ruthless killer. And maybe he finds a little love on the way. | based off the drama : my name | 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀 || compl...
