Man up, dude.

Come on, don’t be a wimp.

Why are you letting yourself be pushed around?

Grow some balls, will you?

Kyungsoo stared into the bathroom mirror where a fresh handprint was appearing like a Kodak camera picture the longer he looked. He ran the pads of his fingers gently over it, feeling where the bump of the pink had formed over top his normally porcelain skin. It wasn’t so bad, he tried to convince himself. It would be gone in a few days and then they could go back to normal, with no evidence that anything was wrong.     

He was fine as long as he didn’t listen to the voices in his head that rebuked him in his own voice for letting it happen. He always received an apology, an ice pack, and a butterfly kiss, and he knew there had been no malicious intent behind the stinging slap.

There were soft footsteps behind him and he glanced back in the mirror over his shoulder to see another figure appear in the doorway rubbing his eyes sleepily. Kyungsoo winced; he hadn’t meant to wake him up, not in the middle of the night, not when he had the imprint of an angry hand on his cheek and shaky breaths to try to keep himself calm. He didn’t want him to worry.

“Daddy?”

Kyungsoo turned and knelt down slowly, ignoring the way the still-healing bruise on his leg protested. “Hey, buddy. What are you doing up?”

Baekhyun looked up at him through his lashes in a half-lidded, sleepy stare. He lifted the blanket that was in his hand to his cheek and brought his other thumb to his mouth. Kyungsoo thought they’d moved past that habit by now. “Heard voices,” he mumbled. “You were yelling.”

Kyungsoo winced again. “Maybe you were dreaming.” Baekhyun yawned and shook his head.

“No,” he said simply. “You don’t yell in my dreams.”

“That’s good.”

Another figure appeared in the doorway, half undressed in pajama bottoms and a blouse. “What are you two doing in here? Bonding?”

Kyungsoo looked up as slowly as possible, trying to hide the mark on his cheek. “Baek woke up, just putting him back to bed.”

“I can do that,” a hand was held out and Baekhyun took it obediently without a backwards glance at his father. “You go to bed, you have work tomorrow.”

So do you. Kyungsoo thought, but saying it aloud was likely to get him another slap later, so he kept his mouth shut.

He watched the two of them walk away towards Baekhyun’s Mickey Mouse decorated bedroom. The hand holding his son’s was delicate, manicured, hardly able to create an angry red mark on a cheek or a deep purple bruise on the leg. The blouse betrayed a slim figure and hugged all the right things. Kyungsoo sighed and leaned against the counter.

Mother and son walking together. Baekhyun, the light of his life. Somi, his wife, his best friend, the love of his life.

And his tormenter.