TaeYang ||J-Hope FF||

-=13=-

"Son..." He said, voice dripping in pity, and maybe regret.

I just stared at the tears dropping, why was I crying? It would make no sense for an addiction like his to go away in the span of a day.. what was I hoping for? A miracle? psh, childish me.

I've always been called childish, and payed no mind; but I guess they were right all along.

I sighed and somersaulted on the couch so i was then sitting upright. Quickly, my father hugged me, strongly. although he didn't work out often, his arms somehow felt stronger than mine, and I hugged back, also strongly.

He started muttering, almost inaudibly. Unfortunatley for him, I head one sentence.

"time to talk.."

"About WHAT?"

I shot up from the couch, startling him in the process.

"Your mother-"

"The one that abandoned us for heaven?"

"isn't-"

"The one that corrupted you?"

I started to get a bit snappy, although wasn't it understandable? My mother's death happened almost before my eyes, obviously scarring,

-

mentally and physically.

My arm has a scar, short and unnoticeable.

Without pointing, you wouldn't have even noticed it's existence.

11:48 on a Sunday, two years ago, determined dead.

Reason?

Car accident.

I never knew what clearly happened, because as a child I was asleep most of my car rides when I was younger.

I woke up because of a jolt, then screams, then I was upside down, then there was blood, then there were tears.

A big mess of pain, to put it simply.

-

"YOUR MOTHER IS DEAD HOSEOK!"

"But."

"No buts!"

"But she die-"

"It was fake."

silence. shock. fear.

all at once came to my head. 

Everything was silent, the crows were frightened of the noise, and flew away, 

Most passerby's of the neighborhood quickly scurried away to their location.

Even the clocks seemed to have stop ticking for a split second. 

the fuck?!

WHAT?!

THE PAST TWO YEARS, THE PAIN IT WAS ALL FAKE?!

WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?

"w-what?" Was all I managed to croak out. Though my emotions and basically everything was screaming at me to outburst in anger, my voice didn't obey. "She- she ran away." My father got up and turned around, now facing me.

He put his hands on my shoulders; the couch still between us. he walked behind it, and slowly guided me to sit on the couch. "But why?" I said, my voice barely making enough sound to classify as a whisper.

"but-"

"NO BUTS!"

"but she died..."

"it was fake"

"Don't talk to your father like that." He said, and I regretted saying that. He lightly tapped the back of his hand to the top of my head to get my attention.

"The love."

Now THIS got my attention. I snapped my head up to look at him. 

"It's time to talk, son."