My deranged marriage

Three

Growing up, there was a place Taehyung never dared to enter - His parent's bedroom. 

It wasn't that he wasn't allowed to go in there. He just wasn't close enough to his parents to go in there. He wasn't kid enough to run in there and embrace them in the morning.

He'd always felt like they'd look at him weirdly if he did. After all, he wasn't the child that was doted on, like his sister. He was the one who had been brought up to work hard for what he wanted. Even their love.

The fact he showed his regard for them in acts and not in affection was probably the reason he was always the kid they held at arms length. 

So walking towards the room now was a little weird for him. He felt awkward and out of place (though his stride tried to deny such emotion) as he opened the massive oak doors and walked into the room, catching sight of his father on the bed. 

The man on the bed was no longer the strict, sturdy man Taehyung once knew. He was laid gently against a few pillows like a porcelain doll people were afraid of breaking. His thick jet black hair had been replaced during the time Taehyung had been gone with flickers of grey and now lay thinly against his head. His arms, which had once carried Taehyung's infant body now limply rested at his side. His eyes were closed in rest and his flared nose let out soft exhales - every one of which could be his last. 

The only thing that remained the same was the man's permanent scowl - reserved mostly for Taehyung, himself. Taehyung wondered if his father could sense his presence, even without seeing him.

Taehyung stepped closer to the bed, trying to remain aloof and not fall back into the old, unassertive attitude that only his father could bring out in him. He was an adult now, not some nerdy teen with a desire to please the man and work himself into the ground to do so. He was here to receive the reward. The fruit of his labour. His father's company. 

"Dad." He spoke as he came closer to the bed, standing like some sort of human pole beside the bedframe.

 His father remained still and his eyes stayed closed. Still, he spoke.

"We're not American, boy. Don't use English with me." The man said hoarsely in Korean. Taehyung was expecting him to add, 'Or I'll get up and make you regret it,' but since he was an adult now it was no longer a valid statement. And it was not something he could do in his condition. 

"Excuse me, father." Taehyung responded in Korean, gritting down at the fact that he had no choice but to answer the man the way he wanted, "I've been away in London so long, English just comes naturally."

"I don't care. Don't forget who you are and where you're from, boy. Understand?"

"I understand sir." Taehyung replied. 

"Good." His father said as he began to open his eyes, "I know why you're here, Taehyung, and it's not to see me."

Taehyung hated that his father could see right through him. His feigned manners couldn't buy the man any shield from his father's all seeing eye. "You're right."

"You're here to know about my will...the company."

"...Yes."

"Well, it was stupid of you to come in here to see me as if I was going to discuss it with you and no one else." His father's opened eyes now looked at him. Taehyung could see the disease slowly eating into them. It was slightly disturbing. 

"When do you plan to discuss it, then? I've just been on an eight hour flight from London to New York-"

His father interrupted with a weak wave of his hand, "When Jeon gets here."