"Kibum," His father roars from the other side of the pristine dinner table, "I expect you to be listening when I talk to you." The man's hands are now resting on the wooden surface, cutlery placed down delicately in contrast to the roughness of his solid voice.

Kibum peers through his blonde hair peeking at his strict father. "I am." He quietly argues, his eyes returning back to the undercooked potato he's idly moving around the porcelain plate. He hears a frustrated sigh but still doesn't bother looking up again.

His father continues nevertheless, "After what happened with your latest Economics project, I've made sure that I have extra eyes watching you for the rest of the year. You need to sort yourself out if you're going to take over as CEO in the future."

The words blow the young boy's fuse and he looks up towards his father in pure outrage. "You can't do that!" He seethes.

"Kibum," He tries.

"No. The last thing I'll let you do is take away my privacy, you don't control my entire li-"

"Kibum." His father interrupts with the tone that signifies the ending of Kibum's outburst.

The blonde sits back in the chair he had kicked out and mumbles an apology.

"I expect you to also take out that disgusting colour and dye it back to black by the time you leave tomorrow morning, it's inappropriate and anything but professional." The man says referring to the mop of blonde that had been smartly gelled and combed before Kibum set foot in the dining room.

"Yes Father," Is the reply matched with a roll of the eyes. He had taken out his usual blue contacts and chosen the safe route of glasses as to not upset his uptight father.

Once he's listened to his father's final lectures, he leaves the room passing by the few maids that bow towards him. He gives them a short, forced smile as he paves his way up the stairs to reach his large, over the top room.

He scoffs at its immaculate appearance. He'd rather clean the room himself if he were being honest than have strangers paid by his father do it- So much for independence. Maybe that's why his and Minho's dorm is such a mess he ponders. Three seconds of him sitting on the ready-made bed brings him to the conclusion that he'd rather head back to his SM uni dorm than spend another second having to deal with his father. Truthfully speaking, he had expected his mother to also be here, that way she'd at least stick up for him slightly; maybe even give him some breathing space, however, god was there to spite him. She was on a business trip for the weekend. Great.

He'll make sure to call her in advance next time he even considers visiting for his free weekend. What a waste.

The small number of clothes he had chosen to pack for the weekend were unmoving, still sitting in the pink suitcase untouched. With an annoyed sigh, Kibum zips up the object and starts rolling it out whilst fumbling with his phone to call an Uber.

He fusses with his hair as he awaits the cab out front of the mansion, no goodbyes said. The dark starts to settle in as the time approaches 8 pm and Kibum decides to send a last-minute text to Jonghyun.

Jjong

Today 7:54 pm

I'll be at yours around 9

Problems with dad

Jjong?

When Kibum arrives back on campus, he rolls his neon pink suitcase back to his dorm room. Minho isn't in so he just chucks the luggage onto his untidy bed and heads straight to the seniors building. As soon as he sees Jonghyun he's going to tackle him with a giant bear hug and suffocate him in his frustrations like he always did when getting back from his 'home'.

"Jjong?" He calls obnoxiously with 4 loud knocks. "For god sake!" He curses when nobody answers at his 3rd set of thunderous slams against the wood.

Ping

Jjong

Today at 9:23 pm

Sorry Key I was at the practice rooms

on my way back now

:PP

you Jjongie

He slides his back down the door, his hitting the cold floor of the corridor. He stares at the messages displayed on his phone screen that suddenly dulls from inactivity. Releasing a slow calming breath he leans his head back against the door- his bright blonde hair almost invisible against the dirty yellow tinge that marked its surface. Trust Jonghyun to not even text him in advance.

"Uhm, Can I help you?"

Kibum opens his eyes at the voice that announces somebody's presence and sees a man with bouncy almond brown hair staring down at him in both confusion and recognition; maybe also amusement. Isn't this the dude from the café?

"Wai-"

"You're kind of in the way." The man's own croaky voice pierces through Kibum's own. He must have had a busy day to sport such a stra