Subtle Differences | Junhao oneshots

The past, the present and the future

Warning: Mentions of abuse, blood, PTSD (please skip if you are uncomfortable)

     The very first thing Junhui woke up to was ruffling sounds and things hitting the ground. When he opened his eyes, his father, with bloodshot eyes and quivering hands, was digging through his wardrobe. He tore it apart like a ravaging monster, ripping clothes off hangers and littering them onto the ground. Junhui silently took in the sight of his messed up room, not that it had ever been tidy in the first place. He didn't dare say a word. He didn't even try to stop his father. He knew the consequences of that.

     "Where the fuck did you hide the money?" His father spat, grabbing the front of his collar. Junhui was jerked up into a sitting position. His father's breath stank of alcohol and drugs. It was no surprise to Junhui, but that didn't mean it didn't scare the absolute shit out of him. The 15-year old boy squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to even glance at his father. Nor did he consent to giving his father any information on where the hundred dollar bill he'd placed under his mattress was. Definitely not the best hiding spot, but at least it would take quite the heaving to find out. Besides, he could just slip his hand under to grab it and run out without his father ever realising.

     Seeing his son unresponsive to his questioning, Junhui's drunken father decided to take a different approach. "I'm changing, son! I need the money. I need it to find a job, to go to rehab, to pay the rent. So please just tell me where it is." Junhui flinched. Two years of this same excuse had taught him more than enough to believe his father's words so easily. And yet, two years of this still hadn't made it any easier.

     "Oh come on, are you fucking deaf, blind or both? I'm talking to you" His father roared. He reached up to smack Junhui's face. The boy fell to one side, clutching his cheek which now red and swollen. "I'm not going to tell you.." Junhui whispered. Clearly, he had no idea how good his father's hearing was when he was drunk. And so, every word Junhui muttered under his breath did not go unheard by him.

     "What did you say?" The man's voice was scarily soft. If not for that situation, it would probably have been one of few times he was not screaming at Junhui. Junhui scrambled to duck, but his father was faster. A glass bottle of half empty soju came down on Junhui, shattering upon impact with his arms. A long jagged scar was formed down both arms not long later with trails of blood staining the thin and worn out mattress. Junhui couldn't even shout for help. No one would hear him.

     "You think I'd be this way if not for you?" His father's rage continued.

     "You stupid child! You are worthless! Stupid! No one's going to help you, you know that right? There's no escape. You'll be stuck here living this life forever. You'll be lonely for the rest of your life."

     'No. No. I'm not. I'm not' Junhui tried to convince himself. He gasped for breath, but what was the point when he was already neck-deep in a never ending cyclone.

     "You want to know why? Because you killed your mother. It was all you, you disgusting brat! Your mother would've never died if not for you acting up. You killed your mother. You killed her!"

     "No! I didn't! I didn't kill her!" Junhui shot up, screaming. His throat was parched, and the room was shrouded in darkness. Junhui clutched his knees, wrapping both arms around them and rocking back and forth. His eyes were darting all over the room. There was no one, just like his father said. The now 23-year old boy scratched at the scar that ran down both of his arms. It was a reminder. A constant reminder that no matter where he escaped to, his horrifying past would still catch up to him. He was oblivious to the pain from the scar that was bleeding. He just kept muttering inane words to himself.

     On the other hand, Minghao, who had fallen asleep in his art studio two rooms down the hallway, woke up groggily to Junhui's screaming. Immediately, he rushed to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water before running to comfort Junhui. Heck if this hasn't already happened every night for the past week. When he entered the room, his heart shattered at the sight of the older hyperventilating male rocking himself back and forth on the bed. Minghao shook out two of Junhui's PTSD pills the psychiatrist prescribed him a few months ago, and tried handing it to him.

     "I don't want to eat it." Junhui refused. He turned around and back faced Minghao.

     The latter sighed heavily. "Junnie. Come on."

     "I said I don't want it!" The older male was totally out of it, and swiped at Minghao's hand, causing the pills to fly across the room.

     "Wen Junhui! Stop it! Look at me!" Minghao demanded. Junhui froze for a slight moment, giving the younger male just enough time to pull his hands away from the scar. Minghao cringed at the bloody wound. He warmly embraced a frightened Junhui.

     "Shhh... You're okay Junnie. Your father's far far away." Minghao whispered. He caressed Junhui's cheeks softly, kissing away the tear marks. Once again, he tried giving Junhui his meds. To his relief, the older male swallowed it obediently. 

     Minghao got up to grab bandages from their living room to treat Junhui's wound, but was quickly pulled back. "Don't go..." Junhui pleaded. He clung onto Minghao's sleeve like there was no tomorrow.

     "I'm here, honey. You have me. I'm not leaving." Minghao reassured him. He'd have to make do with tissues first to clean up the blood then. Minghao heaved a sigh. How he wished he could help his lover get rid of his horrible past. He hated seeing Junhui suffer as a result of his father's actions.

     But the world's just unfair like that, isn't it?

Well. I'm just gonna leave y'all to digest this one

~lilyl<3vely