Wings||Kim Taehyung✓

Epilogue:Closure

Aria's P.O.V.

"Are you sure you want to do this babe?" His sweet, worried eyes met mine, his hand comfortingly rubbing onto my thigh amidst the silence. And while usually I would melt under his touch, I couldn't help but occupy myself with worrying thoughts of what I was about to do.

I pulled my sleeves down to cover my wrists, opening the car door slowly and being welcomed by the soft evening breeze. My hair flying all over the place in result.

"I'll be here if you need me" His soft voice called for me, and I threw a glance his way, meeting with his loveable eyes that I couldn't help but get addicted to. "I'll wait. As long as it takes".

My heart smiled at his comment, but I walked away and to the front porch of the overly familiar house. The same house with the pastel blue railings which I didn't know whether to call home or prison. Because it was both.

My curled fist froze right infront of the dark, oak door.

Knock Aria, It's now or never. My fingers landed a knock onto the door, my arms fell back onto my sides, and my fingers reached up to pull at the bottom of my sleeve in utter tremulousness.

I was about to bail on this fascinating idea of mine and just run before I could even come face to face with the one thing that scared me the most.

My father.

"Aria?" I was met with the face of the same man I had feared to look in the eye for the past few years of my life. But now that I did, I saw a different man. One with bright eyes and unstained clothes, one that didn't stink of alcohol and shone with anger. I saw a worried father, one that seemed like he had gotten himself a good amount of sleep in the past month. His arms wrapped around me tightly, engulfing me into his strong arms once again after many many years. The same arms that were used to hold up whiskey bottles and swing punches to my jaw. They were the same arms.

I pulled away, all of the bad memories flashing back into my mind.

All the shouts, all the fights and all the barbaric swearing. The name-calling and the kicks to the stomach. A drinker's breath and a scared soul. The marks and the fuel. The lost dreams and the broken bonds. The pain and misery. All so fresh it could have been happening infront of my eyes.

"Greg..." I sighed, ready to toughen up and get straight to my point. "We need to talk".

He nodded, swinging the door open so that I could walk into the house. Everything looked clean and tidy, for the most part. No beer bottles left to pile up at the sides, no cigar smoke littering the beige carpets. Everything looked normal, but it could never truly be just that.

"And you can stop calling me Greg, I am your dad". He gestured towards the couch opposite to him, sitting down on the one behind him.

"I can't lie like that Greg" I responded, and I could hear the crack in his heart open wider at the sound of my words.

I felt mean and inhumane. How could I lack such compassion towards a man that was constantly struggling so hard to forget? That was obviously trying to change back to his normal self so he could win me back? So he could have his daughter back. It was selfish, but memories didn't erase, the same went for pain. As much as I wanted to forgive him, I couldn't.

Either way, the reason why I had chosen to stand outside that door and speak to the man inside was in purtuit of closure, not a fresh start. Because sadly, memories didn't erase that easily. Unless his plan was to give me amnesia, I could never just hold onto him as anything more than the man that had helped bring me into this world.