Hello, dearies. This is only a repost but a second chapter is well on it's way.

"Daddy, please-"

"I've heard enough, Minhee! Go to your room!"

His yells resonated through the kitchen, bouncing off the marble counters and coming at me like the sharpest of knives. My bottom lip was trembling before he had even finished releasing his angry words but he never looked even the slightest bit guilty as he stared in my tear-filling eyes. No matter how many times this happened, me either getting in a tad bit too late or sounding a miniscule amount of what he deemed disrespectful, no matter how many times he got pissed off and yelled at me, I could never get used to it. I could never prepare and steel myself for his bombs of yelling. I could never keep the tears in my eyes from coming forth. And no matter how many times he remained emotionless, I always hoped that seeing the tears of his only daughter would stir something within him and make him regret how he directed his anger at me so harshly.

It never did.

Releasing a deep breath from my nose and biting down on my trembling lip, I held back a blink and retreated from the kitchen without another word. Arguing, or even trying to appease him with the coolest of heads, was futile. He never listened. He rarely apologized. I feared he usually didn't care either.

After mounting the stairs and landing on the second storey floor of our empty house, I slid into the bedroom at the very end of the hall and locked the door behind me. It wasn't like my father was going to come after me to console me or apologize, but the clicking of the lock made me feel secure. He never pshyically hurt me, but having the power to lock myself away felt at least a little liberating. It made me feel at least a little in control of my life and my emotions. Even though I hardly was.

Another, more persistent, round of tears hit me and I tumbled into my full size bed, burying myself beneath the covers, my hand habitually going underneath my pillow to pull out the iPod and headphones that always housed there under the soft head cushion. With blurred eyes, I poked the buds into my ears and hit play. As the song started, more tears rolled down my face and dampened the fabric of my pillow. It was probably pathetic and useless, all my self pity, but sometimes a person needs to be alone with their pity and just wallow in it until they're sick. 

I fell asleep like that; music buzzing in my ears, tears staining my cheeks, and a pounding headache. By the time I awoke later in the day, it was night already. The sun was gone, proven by the windowed doors to my mini-balcony, and my bedroom was nearly pitch black save for the bit of moonlight coming through the doors. I sat up, pulling the headphones away from my ears, and clutched my aching head. Hoping my father had either retired to his bedroom or office, I slipped out of my room and down the hallway to the stairs. All the lights were out, which meant it was well past 11PM at the earliest. I padded to the kitchen with ease, taking for myself a couple of pain tablets to ease my head and a bottle of water to rehydrate myself. I lingered down there for a small while, snacking on a pack of nabs, before I returned to my room, feeling it better to pile back into my bed than stand in the kitchen like an oaf with swollen eyes.

Besides, Midnight was nearing.

I didn't even bother showering prior to climbing back into my bed. I didn't have to energy to despite just having slept at least a couple of hours. I guess I should have; it would've made the time pass faster but I could've bring my lazy self to get up and do the job. I just poked my earbuds back in and restarted the playlist that I had been listening to on repeat for a week now.

I stared absently at my balcony doors. He would come right?

I picked at my nails, music blasting in my ears, until well after midnight. Unable to distract myself with the music anymore, having went through half of an older playlist already, I yanked my duvet off my legs and decided to take a shower anyway. I took my time and wished I hadn't.

Ripped grey jeans, a necklace dangling from his neck that twinkled in the dim room just like the earrings in his ears, and lenghty black hair tossed perfectly. He was laid across my bed when I came out of the bathroom, my iPod clutch in his right hand as his left supported his head. "Getting bored of the new one already?" he asked, tossing the gadget to the side.

My mood still sour from the little spat with my father, I could only muster a small pursing of my lips as I padded over to him. He rose to meet me.

"How long have you been here?"

He shrugged, eyeing me sternly. "How long were you crying?"

I reached up to touch my eyes, wondering if they could possibly still be swollen, but he beat me to it. Calloused thumbs brushed along the skin of my cheeks, the smell of Juicy Fruit gum lingering in the air. My hands instintively reached out for him, having wished for nothing but his hold as I was crying earlier. He was wearing that grey and black striped knit cardigan that I wanted for myself over a plain white t-shirt and I easily slid my arms around his lean torso and underneath the cardigan. I sighed into his chest, his warmth sending shivers up my spine.

"I don't even remember what it was about anymore," I lied, leaning into him. I wanted to go see the new comedy movie at the theatre for my birthday. Request denied.

His hands trailed up my back, finding their way into my hair. I savored it - savored him. It wasn't like I got to see him every day at school and go on sweet ice cream dates like all the other girls at my school. Sehun didn't even go to my school; he graduated two years ago, before I had even met