𝑨𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂 / BTS (OT7) x Reader

[ Tutto quanto ]

I always have my breakfast, lunch, and dinner on a lonely table. Only on Sundays I would have a nice dinner with my parents.

He was an important entrepreneur, while she was a great doctor. But their responsibilities at each one's jobs were as big as the titles sound.

I was their only child. A beautiful mistake, my mother would always say. Mistake at the end, my father sometimes would add.

When youngling, I wouldn't be able to understand them. What's more important than loving someone? Than loving your son?

I tried everything to get their attention: good grades, fake illnesses, sweet signs of affection, a bratty behavior, but none of them got them as interested as I would've liked them to.

Good grades deserved a smile from them. Sweet signs of affection would give me a disgusted grin. A fake flu would make my mom worry for three days in a row, which was nice. A bad report card at school meant two days of work at my father's most packed cafeteria. But that wasn't enough. Their interest would die eventually, too soon for my liking.

And every time their turned their heads to go back to what interested them the most, I'd cry, still wondering what was more important than me.

— Why you call me that? — One of those days when my parents seemed less hectic, I dared to ask.

— Call you what, Jimin? — The dead voice of my father asked back.
— A "beautiful mistake", I meant. That makes no sense.

My father laughed.

— We didn't really want a kid. An oversight brought you to us, so we took responsibility for our mistake.

I didn't know how to take his answers, but I asked about the next part, maybe in hopes of getting a better answer.

— And about the "beautiful" part of it? — Both my father and I turned to my mother, who's the one that says so.

— Because you're physically beautiful, of course. You look like me. — And she laughed.

There were no deep feelings in them for me. I was just a simple consequence of their actions, nothing more for them.

Then I thought that maybe their feelings were dedicated to something else, something bigger than their son, so I got the idea of the possible answer I could get.

— Why are you a doctor, mother?

— Why? — She stops her daily reading to stare sternly at me. — The title gives you prestige. No one doubts about you. Your family won't judge you, ever. You get your money... You're at the top.

— And you, father? Why a chain of cafeterias?

— Uhmm... — He got on a serious face as he closed his laptop for a minute. — Definitely money. It also gets you at the top your mom talks about. It's all about being the best.

Surprisingly, their answers were dull, empty, for me.

I don't know their backgrounds nor their ideas for the future, but what I saw there was completely uninteresting.

Although their reasons weren't good enough to justify their bad parenthood, they kept ignoring me, so I grew tired of their lack of interest and found myself interested in using my techniques with the people who surrounded me. Some reactions funnier than others, but in the end, I'd grew uninterested. Like parents like son.

The part of "becoming a man" arrived for me, and it was rather hard since I had no one to admire because nobody fulfilled my expectations.

— ... You should also start thinking about what to do to be someone. You gotta work your way to the top. — One of those Sundays my father said. Though, with no one to guide me, it became torture.