Dad
It (does)n’t happen - intermediate -
Minho sat quietly beside his father on the couch, only half-paying attention to the comic book he was reading. He could be out right now, but since that whole dating thing fell apart again when he thought it was going well, it left Minho isolating himself once more, at least for now. Minho already felt the itch to break it off once the girl got nosy about scars and fresh scabs covering his skin when she accidentally walked in on him with his top off as he tried to change – only to quickly excuse herself with a reddening face and Minho standing flustered in the silly, teenager moment.
But once that awful date rolled around again, leaving Minho crawling in his skin and paranoia heightened, he couldn’t keep it up any longer.
She was nice, sweet, pretty, and then suddenly too close to him. He felt like he was suffocating and backed into a corner under social pressure from all sides. Once the date of the attack neared, Minho broke it off coldly. He couldn’t touch her. He would dream of her laughing hysterically at him, pointing fingers that he was disgusting and worthless trash – sick in every way, sounding nothing like the soft and intelligent girl he had gotten to know.
It had to end.
It did end.
Now Minho was left at home again, turning another page of his book as fingers brushed the sleeve of his shirt were a much fresher and healing cut remained hidden away. His big eyes glanced at his father and the tip of his ears burned with shame knowing he had told his family about his girlfriend only to have broken up with her shortly after. Now Minseok had announced a relationship to the family while Minho was stumbling backwards again. Before long everyone around him would be dating, huh? Minho scowled at the thought and shook it away to look closer at his father.
The man still appeared as strong as ever in Minho’s eyes, even while relaxing as he watched some news and sports on an off day from busy work. He was still the rock of the family, it was only now that Minho was so aware of that fact. Aware of it because he felt out of place still.
Minho loved and respected his father, though it was something not spoken out loud in the family much. They all did, really.
That made the disappointing and shaming that much harder to deal with.
Minho still wondered if he would ever be able to apologize rightfully to his father. He still felt the guilt of effecting his whole family with his own problem, or rather continuous problems now. A dumb decision making leeway into something he could never take back. Maybe, if he got down on the floor right now and begged forgiveness with his deepest bows, maybe that would somehow be enough to erase the shame and damage he had caused.
Instead, Minho turned another page of his basketball themed comic that used to keep his interest for hours. Dad flipped another channel with a small grunt and shift over the couch.
Maybe someday he would get around to that, but not today.
Minutes later, Minho’s eyes widened when he was pulled closer with an arm falling over his shoulder. Dad kept his eyes on the screen of the tv, speaking calmly to Minho. “Do you want to watch something?”
Minho blinked at the remote that was held out to him. Hardly ever did anyone but Mom get to control what was being watched while Father was also watching. Minho, being the youngest, had only gotten that opportunity a few times growing up.
He set his comic aside and slowly took what was offered to him. “Are you sure?”
Dad nodded.
Minho flipped the channel and his father shifted in his seat again, getting comfortable with his arm still over Minho’s shoulders. Minho spent most the time just flipping through channels, not really sure what he should stay on. He finally settled on an old game playing, sure it would be to both their liking. Dad didn’t complain.
Minho forgot the guilt for a while, sleepily dropping his head close to his father as he drifted in and out. In vague dreams, Minho was smiling with his dad while they played a variety of sports they enjoyed. Or Minho used to enjoy. He didn’t know that in his dreams though. It was just like before then, with no worries other than who would come out the possibly sore loser in the end.
Minho was sure he heard his father speak in his firm voice while strong fingers combed his hair, but he wasn’t sure if it was reality or the dreams.
I’m proud to have you as my son. That has never changed.
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