House of Runaways. | The Boyz

Prologue: Sunwoo Kim.

"You absolute filth!"

My father raised his voice, unbuckling his belt as my mother struggled to push him away. My name is Kim Sunwoo and I plan to run away from my family. He just never understood me. Does he think being an intern is fun? Definitely, not.

This boring, shitty, underpaid job is not what I wanted in life. I don't want to grow up like him! I don't want to be a distressed fuck who doesn't give a shit about his family for the rest of my life.

"Maybe things would've been better if you just fucking listened to me!", he yelled out once more.

I felt sorry for Mom but how could she be with someone like this? He doesn't know me at all since all he cares about is himself and his reputation. What a piece of shit. I may not be a perfect son but I am a much better man than he ever will be. — I can't believe I exist in this world because of him.

"Sunwoo, if you don't get back here, I will fucking end you.", he threatens, grabbing my arm as I move away from him.

"How the fuck are you so horrible as a goddamn father?!", the frustration flows out of my mouth as I balled my hand into a fist. I couldn't stand him anymore. He's always ordering me around like he owns my entire life when he did nothing but hurt Mom for doing literally everything in this damned house. Maybe if he didn't stop me from joining the Olympics, then I would've been a better son to him.

Yet he's even the cause of my sprained ankle. Leaving this house was the only option to stop my suffering. — All I wanted in life was freedom.

I aimed my fist at him, hitting my knuckles on that hard face of his as the horrific cries of my mother echoed around the living room. "Stop this! Please!", she cried out as I hesitantly shook my head, tugging my backpack towards me. I watched him bleed on the porcelain floor as multiple curses made their way out of his mouth, making sure I hear him rambling about how much of a disappointment I was.

"You're the biggest fucking regret in my life, Sunwoo.", he mumbles on the floor. "Says the piece of shit father.", I say back, spitting at his face before making my way towards the door. I left my keys beside the vase of the desk beside the door, not planning to ever come back to this shitty household. If I can't be happy here, then I'll leave.

I'll find my happiness by myself. What is the point of staying at home when your own father despises everything that you do?

"You better never come back!", he yells as I shrug, shutting the door behind me. I took a deep breath from the fresh air outside. It was about six o'clock at night as I just came home from work. Well, Dad and I came home from work early because I was doing a "crappy job", which also meant that I got yelled at in front of my colleagues... Great.

I tried my best to please him but maybe spilling coffee made me such a disappointment. What a bummer, though. I make great coffee and he's not even thankful for it. — He's a shitty dad and a shitty boss? That's some double trouble right there.

Maybe I wasn't the best type of person to start with but I never wanted to do things that'd make him feel disappointed. I never did drugs, I never committed any crime, and I never even hit on the ladies I used to work with as much as I had the urge to tell them how pretty their lips looked with that maroon shade. It just turns out that he's a total shithead who never cared about who I am and what I am to him.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me! Fucking hell!", I growled in the middle of the streets, causing a few people to turn their heads at me. — Why should I care about them? No one cared when I was beaten up at home since I should be thankful for being so full of privileged. Am I privileged for being the punching bag of my so-called home?