Hongjoong smiled with delight. Today, he wrote everything he had thought with a flourish.
Day 22.
It's funny that he still looks scared of me. I haven't hit him in a few years and he's still so pale when he looks at me. It's a good thing, though. He should be afraid. I want him to feel as unloved as he should be.
He's a thief to the very core of his being. There's no doubt. As soon as he came along, I was unloved. It's all his fault.
He slammed the book shut without waiting for the ink to dry. Hongjoong looked at the painting of his father. The noble portrait hung straight on a wall, facing the table. Hongjoong beamed. "Are you proud?" he asked excitedly. "Are you proud? Do you love me?" He laughed lightly. "You can't be proud of him anymore! He's a coward!" Hongjoong bowed low in front of his father's image. His black hair swept forward and hung before his eyes. "It's been some time since you've loved me."
The lonely silence replied to Hongjoong and he frowned. He straightened himself and looked the painting in the eyes. Hongjoong's disappointed stare met his father's calm look. Hongjoong's heart broke. The painting never moved. It didn't bat an eye, much less tell Hongjoong what he wanted to hear. The young man sat down. He slouched over his journal and opened it again.
Father does not love me as much as he is supposed to.
Hongjoong looked up at his father's unmoving figure again. The man continued watching calmly, his sight spreading across the dining room. Hongjoong felt shivers. A ghostly touch just barely passed his cheek. He looked around. There was nothing. The house was as empty as it had been twenty two days ago.
It had been twenty-two days since his family left the modest house. Something about it being "too small" for them all. Hongjoong didn't quite understand. If they'd simply let that other boy stay in the closet room, there would be plenty of space. There was no need for Hongjoong to give up his bedroom—as his parents had suggested.
Mind you, Hongjoong was well past his childhood. His path through adulthood was beginning. For what reason should he share a room with a stranger under his parents' roof? And they had the audacity to leave him.
They had the gall to tell Hongjoong that he was stuck-up. For what? Preferring to keep his privacy at the age of twenty-two. What nonsense. Hongjoong peeked at his family photo. It sat quietly by the candlelight beside a window. There were only three people. Just as it ought to be. A young, small Hongjoong stood proudly at the centre. His mother and father stood behind him with bright, loving smiles. What a beautiful family.
And then there was that other "family photo" right beside it. Hongjoong's eyes always changed when he looked at it. Today, his eyes dulled. He stared blankly at the "new family photo". Hongjoong was not smiling. He was a young man who wore a rather elegant, refined expression as he looked into the camera. Hongjoong stood behind his father, hands resting on the back of the old man's chair. Hongjoong's face stood out from the rest. He was the only one with this stern look.
His... "brother" stood beside him. Yunho was standing behind Hongjoong's mother. Yunho's eyes shone and he was beaming. He looked like a dog: so happy to be there. Hongjoong had once stuck a sticker on this framed photo. It went over Yunho's chest. It had said "Jeong Yunho". His parents scolded him for it, as it had driven young Yunho to tears. Hongjoong was forced to pick the sticker off and apologise. Now that Hongjoong was alone, he wrote Yunho's "true name" with permanent ink. Jeong Yunho. Really, this was what they all ought to call him, Hongjoong thought. They all ought to continue calling Yunho by his real name. Hongjoong hated the way that his parents had let Yunho call himself a "Kim". It was ridiculous. A complete act of pity.
