kidnapper's protection | seongjoong

4

Seonghwa closed the front door quietly behind him, the soft click echoing through the silent house. He slipped off his shoes and set them neatly by the door, not that anyone would care. The air inside was still, heavy with the usual tension that sat between him and his parents like an invisible wall.

As he stepped into the hallway, his parents' eyes immediately flicked to him from the living room. They didn't say anything at first—just stared, their gazes cold and calculating, as if sizing him up like he was a stranger who didn't belong.

Seonghwa knew that look too well. He'd seen it every day for as long as he could remember: disappointment, contempt, and something bordering on disgust. It never mattered how hard he worked or how well he performed. His grades meant nothing to them when all they could focus on was the way he chose to dress, the way his hair fell past his neck in silky waves.

He exhaled quietly, already resigned to the routine. No food tonight. He wasn't surprised; it was just another part of the unspoken punishment for being himself.

Without a word, he turned toward the stairs, eager to retreat to the only place in the house that didn't suffocate him entirely. But just as his hand brushed the banister, his father's voice cut through the air like a whip.

"That's it? No hello? No respect?" his father spat, his tone sharp and full of venom. "You just walk in here, like we don't even exist?"

Seonghwa stopped mid-step, his heart sinking. He closed his eyes for a second, bracing himself. Here we go again.

"You think you're some kind of prince, huh?" his father continued, his voice rising with each word. "Wearing those ridiculous clothes. That cropped trash—do you think you look good in that?"

Seonghwa stayed silent, his hand tightening slightly around the banister. Don't react. Just let him say whatever he needs to.

"Answer me, you disrespectful little shit!" His father's voice cracked with anger, slamming into him like a physical blow. "Is this what you want to be? A walking embarrassment? God, we should've thrown you out the minute you started acting like this."

Each word came sharper than the last, slicing through Seonghwa's already worn defenses. "You're nothing but a disappointment," his father growled. "A freak in girl's clothes who can't even pretend to be normal."

Seonghwa stood perfectly still, his back to his father, unwilling to turn around. There was no point. No apology or explanation could ever satisfy them. No amount of success could redeem him in their eyes.

"Do you know what people say about you?" his father sneered. "Do you know how it feels to have everyone look at us like we raised a goddamn joke?"

Seonghwa's mother sat quietly on the couch, not bothering to intervene. She never did. She just watched, arms folded, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. As if his father's rage was justified. As if Seonghwa deserved every word.

Seonghwa inhaled slowly, forcing down the lump building in his throat. Just let it pass, he told himself. It's only words. You've heard worse.

His father wasn't done. "You wanna be pretty? Is that it? You think the world's going to love you for this?" He laughed bitterly, a sound laced with contempt. "Pathetic. You'll end up alone, and when that happens, don't come crawling back here. You won't have anyone. Not with the way you are."

Seonghwa swallowed the ache in his chest. His father's words weren't new, but each time they hit, they felt heavier, sinking deeper into the cracks that had already formed.

"Get out of my sight," his father snapped, waving him off like he was nothing. "Go sulk in your room or whatever it is you do."

Seonghwa didn't say a word. He turned back toward the stairs, keeping his steps light and even. He knew from experience that any reaction, any sign of emotion, would only fuel the fire.

As he climbed the stairs, his father's final words followed him like a shadow:

"You'll never be anything worth loving."

Seonghwa's heart twisted painfully, but he kept his expression neutral, kept moving. He made it to his room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Only then did he let out a shaky breath.