Dad: What do you mean, "she wasn't negotiating a grade?" I DON'T CARE IF YOU HAVE TO SUCK HER OFF!!! HOW ELSE WILL YOU GET OUT OF THIS SHITHOLE?!
Mom: Yelling at him won't fix it!
Dad: Shit... you're right...
I stand there silent, in my ruined school uniform, about to be ruined once more.
*SLAP! THUD!*
Mom slaps me across the face, knocking me over, I shed tears of course but nobody is around to hear me cry, so why bother?
Dad: What a weakling! Why can't you be like your brother?! Strong, you know he's going to play in the tournament next year?
I try to get up, but then I slip, falling back down again, making mom giggle slightly.
Dad: Shows that all the books and writing you've been peddling won't do you no good. Come to the field with us, stop wasting your time!
Mom: You'd think for a boy who likes reading and writing so much he'd get better grades, look at this report card.
Dad: I done seen it!
I just pitifully crawl away in my dank, disgusting, putrid house, crawling into my room, which isn't even a room, it's a Harry Potter staircase room. I sit in my room, alone, crying away that night.
But yet, fate just seems to work out.
*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*
I wake up finally, cold and a bit clammy, not hot and sweaty like last time, shutting off my alarm as soon as possible so Sona doesn't get woken up. I look over through the little crease between our shelves, and it's good, I didn't wake her.
Her keyboard gigs are always super late, so it's fine for her to sleep in to compensate. I'd be fucked if I had to work my job from 9 PM to 5 AM instead of the other way around.
I put on some new slacks, and a casual dress shirt. I put my black boots on, then my black wool coat, and my red scarf. No earbuds, no beanie, no nothing. I don't even bother looking in the mirror because I won't like what I'll see.
I grab my laptop bag and head out to work. Let's take a walk.
When I head outside, I'm greeted by the K/DA fanclub, a group of kids that dedicate their souls to another titan of the industry that doesn't love you back, despite claiming they do.
If they did love us, where's our hugs? Where's our benefits? How can you say you love me, oh wait, that's right, I'm your income!
Fan: Hey sir! Are you excited for the concert this coming week?!
Y/N: Meh...
Fan: Wait, wait, sir! Are you telling me the greatest group on the planet doesn't excite you?! Perhaps we can change your mind...
Dad: Come out to the field and kick the footie around! How does it not excite you, blow the stink off ya!
I flat-out rip the flyer out of her little hands, walking down the street a little ways so they can't see it. You know what I do with it? I give it to a homeless person I see when I'm coming down the off ramp.
Oh yeah, it's bad, I walk partially on a highway to get to my work. ZOD is not worth it, and I could do a no-call, no-show, but I want to tell them myself.
I head in through the front, greeting the coordinator, AKA, my manager. Renata Glasc...
Renata: About time! Get to work on these files bookworm.
YOU ARE READING
My Cursed Luck (K/DA x Male Reader)
Fanfiction- Y/N is an archivist, scratch that, an "information artist", and he likes to believe he's cursed, cursed with bad luck, resulting in the constant lack of optimism, depression. However, his past few years have been pretty tame as far as just going t...
