Stray Kids Drabbles

Nothing new

Genre: Comfort/hurt 

Minho finds you on the porch when the hurt from the issues your father gave you tends to bubble up and fizz over.

Trigger warning: Daddy issues, grief, depression, anxiety, mentions of physical violence and emotional abuse.

A/N: I did not realize that the last drabble I uploaded was a daddy issue drabble and this one is also about daddy issues so um...whoops. The next one will not be about daddy issues. It feels nice to be back posting these after basically taking off the entire summer. Anyway, enjoy <3 

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ 

"Why are you hanging out here alone?" Minho plopped down beside you on the back wooden porch.

You couldn't remember how long you had been here. Maybe it was mere minutes or maybe it was more like hours. Time seemed to blend together out here and you let it.

The sun was starting to set. It painted the sky with roaring reds and bright oranges. Streaks of clouds were beginning to fade further and further away into the distance. Soon the sun would set and the moon would begin to climb the darkened skies.

"I've been calling your name for a while. I thought you were in our bedroom, but you didn't respond. I even thought you were showering until I found the bathroom empty. I was starting to think you had been kidnapped or something."

You shrugged, "I'm just here."

"So what are you thinking about?"

"Noth-"

"Bullshit. You don't turn into a recluse unless you're truly struggling with something. You know that I'm not going to judge you, so what are you really thinking about?"

"Everything all at once."

"Anything specific?"

"Family."

His face softened at the mention of your family. Life with your family has been chaotic. He knew the stories, you always told him about them. More specifically, he knew the issues that you had with your father.

"Daddy issues again?"

"Or perhaps my brain is the issue." You shifted and leaned back. Your legs hung down the descending stairs, but your upper half clung to the deck. "I just...I just wish I could stop making it a big deal. I wish things didn't affect me so much. I wish actions and words would run off me like water instead of sticking."

"It's not wrong to mourn the things you missed out on. I understand that it must be hard to deal with the cards life gave you. Everyone has struggles and yours just happens to be your father."

"You'd think it'd stop once you grow up."

He paused for a moment and his eyes went out to the backyard. Off in the distance, the shared vegetable garden bloomed. Bright grown plants flourished in every direction. Two white cabbage butterflies chased each other around and around. Soon they'd land on an outer cabbage leaf and begin to munch away without a care in the world.

"I think realizing it when you get older makes it worse. You become aware of the injustice and hurt which causes a cognitive disconnect. It makes it cut that much deeper. You don't have to feel bad for feeling something so natural."

"You know what the worst part is?" You finally got out. The sting of tears began to collect in the corners of your eyes. "He's not even a good man. We're talking about one of the worst people out there and yet I still feel myself chasing after him."

"The kind of person who picks strangers over his own children. The type who spends money on stupid things instead of the youngest child's needs. The kind of person who has no issue yelling and screaming in someone's face. The kind that lets their anger control them and make all the decisions."

"But yet...I keep chasing. I keep hoping and praying. I've started to talk to God," a tearful snort fell from your mouth. "I don't even know if I believe in him, but I've talked to him. I keep asking for a better father, but all I hear is silence."

"They say you should stay in contact with your parents because they're your parents, but what if a parent is making you so stressed and upset, your hair falls out? What if it leads to sobbing and emotional distress? What if it leads to screaming and fighting? What if trying to love my father is what kills me?"

Minho's heart broke apart at your words. He knew it was bad and it had been for a while, but he didn't know it was this bad. His hand instinctively reached out for yours. The warmth of his palm connected with yours and curled around your fingers.

"And you know what the worst part is?"

"Hmm?"

"If I leave him, that's it. He won't change and try to become a better person. He won't think about his actions and go out of his way to change. He'll just point the finger and belittle me. Run my name through the mud to every family member. He'll belittle me, turn me into an outsider, pull the curtain over everyone's eyes again. He'll always be the good father in his eyes and I'll just become another asshole that did him wrong. Just like the hundreds of other people that he once upon a time knew."

Narcissism was deadly for some. Too much of an ego and too much self-imposed-importance left people craving attention. No matter whose character they had to rip apart, they'd do it. Whether that meant belittling them to everyone they knew, screaming at them, or even assaulting them.

Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me.

All the attention had to be swallowed by them. Like some sort of powerful sun, the rays never knew how brightly they burned. Any ounce of criticism was a pot of boiling hot water.

The huffs and puffs. The finger in your face. The yelling and screaming as spit flew everywhere. The broadening rage that seemed to fill the room without a single sound. The angry marching from them as you tiptoed along on eggshells. Just when you let out a breath, they snapped and lashed out.

You didn't have time to react before you became a victim of another episode. Another rage fest where things went flying. When the refrigerator door slammed shut so hard that the shelves full of condiments shook. The way that cupboards were dented from the force of wood slamming against wood.

Your dad would always be your dad, but he'd never be a good father. You could cry and cry and cry. You could cry enough tears to create an ocean, but it'd never be enough to wash the hate out of your father. That realization caused your heart to break apart.

Your biological father would never love you, at least, not the way you loved him. Your chasing was starting to slow down. You could spend a few more years chasing his love and begging on your knees for it, but when was the last time your father said he loved you?

When was the last time you were your father's child? When was the last time that your father seemed to give a shit about you? Did he know your favorite color? Did he know the songs that caused your heart to boom with adrenaline?

Better yet, did he know something as simple as your birthday? Does he know or does he laugh as he asks you because it's not such a big deal to him? So when he hands you a card from the dollar store with his name, does it feel just as worthless as his love for you?

"Is it wrong to want to be loved?"

"Never. It's never wrong to be loved and I'm sorry you don't have that kind of love. If you want me to, I'll share my father with you."

"I haven't even met your father."

"Oh, I was talking about Bang Chan."

"Minho!" You leaned over to lightly slap his shoulder. Before you could reach it, he jerked out of reach. His hand grabbed your wrist and he jerked you closer.

"Hey!"

Your annoyance instantly dissolved the moment his lips met yours. Your body relaxed and you began to kiss him back. At this moment, none of your father's lack of love mattered. Right now, you had this and what a fool you'd be to ever give it up.