𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒪𝓊𝓇 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈. ⚣ 2Jae

卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌.

———————

"So? What the hell is this I'm hearing about you being suspended from the football team?".

The middle aged man emphasized, glaring into the cold dark eyes of his teenaged son who reminded him of himself in the most intriguing ways. The younger boy shuddered at the fierce intonation unsure of the tone he should utilize. He stuttered upon his words like a drunk individual trying to find their way in a dark alley.

"It was, it was situation with the coach, but..but me and wonpil f—".

"What the fuck did you do in the first damn place huh!".

The enraged man charged at his son once again with a balled fist, not even caring that his own flesh and blood was using his arms as a defense mechanism and flinching horribly. Despite his fear however he tries to reason with his threatening father who had the temper of the miserable old man he was soon to be. Or in Sehun's case, who he already was.

"Dad it wasn't anything serious I promise! We are just taking a break for a wh—".

Snipping his voice mid sentence the older man threw his fist into his son's jaw leaving him to plunge painfully to the ground. His chest began to heave and he marveled at the specks of red now painted on the hardwood floors.

He opened his mouth to speak but was instead greeted by a foot sinking into his gut making him collapse onto the floor with pain sprouting in his lower region.

"Why the fuck do you have the principal calling about some bullshit investigation? Why the fuck can't you just be a good son for once? Why the hell are you always screwing shit up Sehun?".

The younger's head spinned as slow as merry go rounds. He wanted to caress his stomach a bit to try to persuade his father to give him a little mercy—- but his body ached so bad he didn't think movement would come for a while.

He follows the two pair of feet that were now face to face with his eyes. The roots of his hair caused him the greatest discomfort whereas he found out that it was his father gripping his thin locks. He lifted his head just to enough to make eye contact with the hated being.

"You are always doing some fucking thing wrong dumb ass. I just wish I had another son to depend on".

He spat harshly gifting Sehun an alcoholic whiff, the stench that haunted him for years and years to come. It birthed knots in his stomach, it supplied constant tears to his eyes, it made him want to freak out completely. But Sehun valued his life. He knew much better than to do that. And for this he played the role he knew the best, which is the role of silence.

Using his arms for leverage he was set to finally get himself off of the floor until a glass bottle was tossed and shattered beside him making him duck, the shrines flying uncontrollably and scraping the skin on the outside of Sehun's hand. The cut was lengthy and to be quite honest it burned and stung like hell but the smell and sound of his father stumbling around the hallway and cursing under his breath hurt just as much as his Newly sliced skin.

He ambled into his bathroom which reeked of odd chemicals and attending to the mirror—-or lack thereof given it's cracked features. Most of which originating from Sehun in attempt to dodge his father's blows. He longed to fix the ragged bathroom, the worn shower curtain, the soiled shaggy rug—-everything reminded him of his life.

Broken.

In ways that he couldn't piece back together.

He plucked up the last wrist wrap from a compartment he'd hidden himself behind the sink knowing that his father would dispose it and beat him harshly if he ever found out what is was for.

Because Sehun isn't man enough.

Because Sehun was too much of a bitch to withstand pain.

He enclosed the wrap to the patters of rain hitting the frosted glass bringing him a mood worse than the one he'd already obtained from his encounter. Pushing his thoughts and emotions to the back burner he instead stripped away his clothes making way for a warm shower to refrain from any crying.

Something, anything to take his pain away.

Anything to help him stop remembering the better days of his parents being normal and taking care of him the way he yearned for.

He stepped into the steaming water that sunk its way into his aching bones, one he needed in particular which was his jaw. If his father tried any harder he'd damned near punch his jaw off of his face. If his father hit him harder in any of the fights they'd gotten into Sehun would practically be dead by now.

But why Sehun?

Why couldn't he be loved?

Why couldn't he be respected?

The brown haired boy's thoughts proceeded no further as he heard rowdy shrieking through the thin walls of the bathroom. He questioned no other action but his parents who were at each other's throats every second of the day. He ignored as best as he could but it wasn't easy ignoring bitter remarks of him rather not being born.

Remarks that were now starting to sound like a broken record. Remarks that were his normal. Remarks that he'd wish became his reality.

Because all in all if he could take time back, damnit if he could take time back he'd hope to never see the sun shine in the sky again.

Every day, every minute he felt like a burden to everyone. His friends and most especially his family whom he had no connection with. They didn't want to speak to him, they didn't want to be with him, they didn't want to love him. But it didn't bother him. Nothing ever bothered him.

Right?

Sehun snatched away from his own thoughts to the sound of the bathroom door chirr against the floor. He hesitated to look out, thinking it could've been his father with yet again another dangerous weapon and he'd hate to be caught naked. He kept his movements still—-holding his breath even.

But silly Sehun, after a few moments thinking the coast was clear and returning back to the piece and quiet he honored selfishly.

"Sehun".

The younger boy snapped his head back at the softer voice, covering himself embarrassingly to the figure in the shower in the back of him.

"Eomma?".

She gave a sorrowful look, scratching at her arms and tracing her son's body from head to toe.

The familiar gaze made itself at home in Sehun's memories. Memories he'd wish weren't so fresh in his mind so that he could burn them collectively. But he couldn't. He couldn't burn what his mom was doing, he couldn't burn his abuse, he couldn't burn his existence.

He hated seeing her like this but she had no choice. Her husband was an abusive alcoholic and her son was an absolute failure in school. So who was she to take a normal role?

"Please don't touch me, please".

He chants with his jaw barely letting him release words. And as much as he begged her it all seemed as if it was to no avail. Sehun couldn't help himself, his orbs became glassy and he sobbed endlessly while the woman did her deeds.

Fuck it, maybe he was the weak punk that his father said he was.