My Obsession ; Broken wings

2

Days passed, and Taehyung found himself sitting at the breakfast table with his parents, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. The dining room was elegantly set, as usual, but today it felt suffocating. His father, engrossed in reading the morning newspaper, glanced up occasionally, eyes narrowing as he watched Taehyung eat.

"Taehyung," his father began, his voice stern as he folded the newspaper. "You know your grades are slipping. You need to focus more on your studies. I don't want to see you messing around. You have to maintain a strong academic record if you want to get into a good law school."

Taehyung didn't respond, just pushed his food around his plate, feeling the familiar weight of expectations pressing down on him. He was so tired of hearing the same lecture every morning, but he couldn't muster the energy to argue. His father's tone left little room for discussion, and Taehyung had learned long ago that arguing was futile.

His mother, who had been quietly sipping her tea, suddenly chimed in, her voice light but edged with concern. "Honey, you should also think about how you present yourself. You know how important it is for a young man to show strength and confidence. Maybe you should work on your posture a bit, stand tall. Boys your age should be more masculine."

Taehyung's heart sank further. The words felt like a fresh layer of pressure added to the already heavy load he carried. He looked up from his plate, catching his mother's gaze, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of genuine concern in her eyes. But then it vanished, replaced by that all-too-familiar expectation.

"Masculine?" Taehyung echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "What does that even mean?"

His mother waved a hand dismissively, as if the question didn't deserve an answer. "You know, more assertive, more self-assured. You need to show the world you can handle things. You can't just be this... soft boy all the time."

Taehyung felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He was tired of trying to fit into a mold that didn't feel like him. He wanted to be who he was—gentle, artistic, and sensitive—without feeling the pressure to conform to some ideal of masculinity that didn't resonate with him.

"Can't I just be myself?" he asked quietly, looking down at his untouched food.

His father's eyes narrowed again, and Taehyung could already sense the impending lecture on being a "real man" or "living up to family standards."

"Self is not enough in this world, Taehyung. You need to project strength if you want respect. It's how things work in life," his father replied, voice dripping with authority.

The conversation was a familiar dance, one that Taehyung had grown tired of, but he felt powerless to change it. He pushed away from the table, unable to finish his meal, and stood up. "I need to get to school," he mumbled, feeling the weight of disappointment settle over him.

"Remember, Taehyung, I expect you to do better," his father called after him, his tone firm and unyielding.

Taehyung nodded absently, walking away as the familiar tension enveloped him again. As he left the dining room, he couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, caught between his parents' expectations and the person he wanted to be.

Taehyung sat in the back seat of the family's luxury sedan, staring out the window as the cityscape rushed by. The driver, Mr. Park, was a reliable presence, ensuring Taehyung arrived at school on time. The unspoken rule was clear: there was no room for detours or distractions. School was the only destination that mattered.

As they approached a busy intersection, Mr. Park slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt just inches away from a sleek sport bike that had suddenly appeared in front of them. Taehyung's heart raced as he watched the scene unfold, his breath catching in his throat.