“All right, I’ve had enough of all this!” You mother barges into your room with an upset look on her face. “This Crude Play thing is turning into an obsession,” She screams at you furiously with her hands on her hips, she’s frowning so much that you think her face will never unfrown.

You stop singing your current favorite song by your favorite rock band and you mentally sigh heavily. You sit up on your bed and you place your laptop aside, you say nothing and stare at her silently as she continues to freaks out. You finally speak when you’ve had enough of her screaming at you for the whole world to hear. “It’s not an obsession.” You roll your eyes – not at her but at her first statement but of course, she thinks you’re rolling your eyes at her.

“Don’t deny it.” She hisses, “And don’t you dare roll your eyes at me,” She adds heatedly, she walks over to you and grabs the ticket on the nightstand and grips it tightly in her hand. “You’re not going to the concert.”

You stare at her in shock, “Why not?” You ask in disbelief and you get in more shock when she starts listing down reasons – you wish you never asked her why.

“You have two tests this week – you will not fail – all mathematics. And on the day of this,” She pauses and lifts up the ticket higher, “Of this band or whatever – you’re going to take over the grocery store for the day as a cashier – ” You interrupt her because your mouth just opens.

“What?! No!” You shriek and you try to reach for the ticket but she moves away from you.

“And the other reason why you won’t be going to the concert is because you have his face everywhere in here,” She snaps, “I won’t be surprised if you change your name to his.”

“You’re exaggerating.” You state calmly, “And I know I have tests this week – I studied, Mum. Dad was there with me the whole time,” You tell her trying to sound as polite as you can even though you feel like yanking your hair out and screaming at the top of your lungs at her – maybe even yank her hair off her head but she’s your mother.

“You have clothes with his face or name on them. Your phone’s cover – his face is everywhere in here for crying out loud!” She keeps on going, “He doesn’t know you. Chances of him ever getting to know you are very slim –”

“That ticket is my chance of getting to know him!” The last part of her statement gets on your last nerves because you have heard it countless times already from her and different people. “This is why we never get along.” You hop off your bed, attempting to walk out of the room but she grabs your arm.

“Honey, we never get along because you’re always stuck in here – singing and wasting your time – and daydreaming about that man!” She points at one of the posters that is currently on the verge of falling off your wall, you jerk your arm from her hand and you walk out of your room. You run down the stairs and you brush past your father and you’re out the door before he can ask you what’s wrong.

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“And that is why I never get along with her! Now you know that, so don’t ask me why I don’t want to go back home.” You rant angrily, “She’s always trying to control me – why can’t she be more like my dad?!” You throw the pillow across the room with an angry snort.

“Does this look good on me?” Sungjong asks casually holding up two shirts and waits for your answer.

“Have you been listening to me at all?” You shriek and you drop yourself on his bed with a loud frustrated sound.

“Well?” He asks impatiently, you lift your hand and blindly point at the shirt in his left hand, “No, this one is ugly.” He throws the said shirt to you and walks to his bathroom, he slams the door and minutes later he’s out, all dressed up.

“Are you going to the concert?” He questions as he gracefully walks over to his closet, pulling out a brown leather jacket and black skinny jeans, “I heard that they are going to dress in black and brown,” He says slowly, “Might as well dress like them.” He turns to you and smiles brightly, “Cheer up!” He exclaims.

“My mother took away the ticket my father bought me – she’s so mean and unreasonable.” You pout and roll over to your stomach after throwing the shirt off your head to the ground.

“So you’re not going?!” Sungjong practically screams, you wince at how high pitched his voice sounds.

“When are you going to hit puberty?” You say sarcastically, he toss the skinny jeans he has in his hand to your face, you sigh and pull the skinny jeans off. “I’m not going.” You say miserably.

“…get the ticket back from her?” He asks unsure, you bite your lower lip and you stare at the ground.

“How?” You look up at him and you notice he is undressing, “What the hell?! Change in the bathroom!”

“Why? It’s not as if you don’t learn biology,” He tells you, you look away from him with a shrug, “Sing to her.” He suggests hesitantly.

“She hates my singing voice.” She hates everything about me, you think, tears well up in your eyes at that thought but you force them to stay put.

“You have an amazing voice,” He remarks in deep thought, the bed sinks on your right side and you see him sitting beside you with his legs in meditation style.

“She’d rather I become a doctor than a musician.” You remind him like you remind everyone else who asks you to audition at different companies. You have the voice and you know it, you’ve been singing for as long as you can remember.

“My parents want me to be a priest – count yourself lucky.” You burst out into fits of laughter as soon as that statement leaves Sungjong’s mouth.

“Whatever.” You say as you calm yourself down.

“You still have two days to get the ticket back,” He states as if you don’t know, “Take over the grocery store tomorrow and the day after that – she has a soft spot for you.” He laughs.

“You’d know because you’re the perfect son.” You grumble, he looks down at you and rolls his eyes.

“Liar,” He says, “Your mother totally hates me.” He lets out a dramatic sigh.

“She doesn’t hate you! She’s nice.” You defend you mother even though she is the reason you’re upset and angry.

“She calls me gay! How is that nice?!” He collapses on his bed when you sit up.

“Well, are you?” You tease, he yanks your hair and you wince in pain.

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Don't expect a lot. Until Next Time