Spotlight ☆ | minsung

☆46☆

Standing there he looked ethereal, or probably demonic was a better way to describe him.

His slicked black hair, impecable suit that matched the color and pale skin free of any beard or mole made anyone who took time to observe believe that man was perfection made into flesh and bones.

Only Minho knew better, and that stupid little mole on the side of their noses, the only one his father had, the one they shared, reminded him of everything awful he would put him through. It was a reminder that they were blood related, that the man had the upper hand in every interaction they shared, that Minho was nothing next to him.

He imposed his presence and, as soon as the red haired saw his figure at the door, the boy's heart sank into a pit of burning fear.

He was scared to get his father's rejection once again, even if used to it. It always hurt like a new wound.

But today was different, and Minho could feel it. His father was infuriated, the expression on his face gave it away so easily.

What had Minho done to make him like that?

The boy flinched at the way his father's hand moved towards him. Would the man slap or punch him?

He did none of those, instead taking a handful of Minho's hair carefully to inspect it, and he looked almost human while doing it. Still, the younger tensed up, not moving at all. He knew something was going to happen, it just was how his father was.

The taller figure contorted his face into one of utter and plain disgust as he yanked his son's hair, making him hiss and bend to the direction where his head was being painfully dragged towards.

He still didn't complain any more than that, even if tears were already forming behind his eyelids.

"You don't even know when to dye your roots to avoid looking like an asshole, do you?" even if he chuckled, Minho knew better than to think he was amused.

No, his father probably laughed at how pathetic he was.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, trying to get the man to stop pulling at his hair.

"Fucking pathetic." the older breathed as he pushed past his son to the living room. At least he had let go of his son's locks.

He was inspecting the house, looking for something to criticize, something to shame Minho for.

Fortunately, there was nothing as the boy practically lived in Jisung's and Felix's place, altering between the two constantly because he despised the loneliness of his house and always tried to escape those suffocating walls that had swallowed the sound of his cries countless nights.

Minho closed the front door behind him and followed his father without a word, never looking anywhere but the floor.

After a while of scanning the room with his eyes, the taller turned around and glared at Minho, right at the mole on his nose. It seemed to infuriate him even more, the reminder that he had some kind of connection to the frightened boy, who right now just wanted to disappear.

"You think you're so sneaky, so clever, do you not, now?" his tone was dripping poison, it was aimed directly at his son. The boy lifted his head, clueless as to why his father had said something like that. "Oh, don't you fucking dare act like I didn't see you kissing that boy this morning."

He chuckled, again no sign of amusement in anything about him, when Minho's jaw dropped, cold sweat covering his forehead as his hands started to shake.

All the color left the poor boy's face in a few seconds, big scared eyes scanning his father frantically to see something, anything, that indicated that the man's words were just some kind of sick prank he had decided to torture his son with.