FOUR PILLARS

Chapter 19: Family Potrait

Arriving at his family's private airstrip did not ease his worry, only making him feeling more tense and burdened. Every step feels heavier and heavier, no different with his chest, it's almost as if he is having trouble breathing.

Maybe his family affects him more than he thought. And that scared him. He built himself so that one day he can run away from them, remove himself from the Chivaree and be happy but right now? He didn't have much resources as Bright but who knows? Maybe the people who helped him as Chivaree can change.

He regrets not taking the car, at least driving here can prolong his time from seeing his parents but a 10+ hour drive would also prolong his stay at the mansion and that is not what he wants to do.

All he has to do is talk to his parents, have dinner and tomorrow, once the dawn has broke, he'll drive home.

Easy isn't it?

Easier said than done obviously.

Easier if his parents are not in the same fucking car as him which means whatever they are saying to him, he cannot run from it.

As usual, his parents greet him with their grim face. To be honest, he never really remember when was the last time their smiles were directed to him, their son, one and only child.

Unsettling atmosphere engulfs the three of them, no words are exhanged, no greetings or anything, except for them staring at each other.

Or more like both of his parents staring at him while he is looking at them both.

He was hoping he can delay their meeting, at least until he reaches the mansion but he gives his parents less credits than he should. Well at least his parents understand his stuborness more but not even his favorite color but a win is a win.

If he ever has to choose whether to be left alone with either of his parents, he will choose his father without a doubt. Not even because of favouritism but with his father, he doesn't feel so hurt. It is not hard to feel nothing towards his father when he was barely there all his life. All he ever did was to scold him, hit him or pressure him and it is not hard to feel distant with the man who shared his DNA so for Bright, at least with his father he still can breathe.

His mother on the other hand. The woman who he used to cling onto throughout his childhood, the person who was his comfort is the hardest part of going home.

When it comes to his father, it was indifference that helps him but with his mother? He is back to being ten. He is ten and bares his heart for his mother to touch but only ended with her crushing his heart over and over again.

So if people asked him who he will choose, he will not have the courage to choose his mother.

But now he is eighteen, yet it didn't get better. Yet he is still the ten years old.

"How are you, son?" his father's deep voice filled the air, not a tinge of feelings can be detected from that simple question. It is just a mere formality.

If he is a lesser man or maybe if he is still a rebellious boy that he had always been before, then he would laugh into his father's face. Mocking his words while expecting the older man to hit him and put him into his place.

He isn't like that anymore. He's not a kid waiting for reaction in hope his father would play into his childish game. He knows it won't change anything, it won't give him freedom nor it would give him any satisfaction.

His gaze now focusing on his father, threw him a business smile with an assurance that he is doing fine, his grades are fine and he is learning more these days by busying himself with language classes and instrument classes.