Moonchildren

Seokjin

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Seokjin flinches and his hands shoot to his chest to feel his racing heartbeat. He slowly turns around to be met with the sight of Hana sitting on their living room chai, her long leg crossed over the other.

"M-mom I-"

"Do you know how much havoc you caused? People are gossiping about us! They think we're unprofessional freaks! All because you can't handle a group of girls. Seokjin, this is not how I raised you. As a matter of fact, you s..."

Hana. One of her expectations for Seokjin is for him to be a fuckboy. A player. A playboy. To be constantly surrounded by boys. She has come out to her before but it's like she doesn't want to except it. Maybe it's one of the reasons she lets him get sexually assaulted by women.

"Mom, stop!"

Hana stops and looks at Seokjin in disbelief. He sparkly eyeshadow glistening in the bright lighting. They stare at each other for minutes. Tears well up in the younger's eyes.

"Mom. I'm not happy." His voice is weak. His anxieties come crashing back and blow him away. His mind goes back to those days. Those days he'd put up with the abuse he seems to face everywhere he goes. At home, the gym, at work, his acting teacher's "love scene rehearsals", his head space.

"Mom, th-this isn't how I want to live my life. I-Its missery. I hate it." He rubs his eyes and blinks away some of his tears.

Hana slowly and gracefully gets up from her seat. Her stilletos clinking with ever slowly yet firm step. He back straight, her chest pushed out and her head held high. He face pretty shows no emotion. Seokjin watches carefully as she stands right infront of him. What happens next, is the least she expected.

A slap.

A hard one.

Across his face.

He cups his cheek as if would sooth the pain and stares in disbelief.

"Y-you slapped me." His voice is barely over a whispers.

"Yes, I did. And I will do it again if you dare tell me that nonsense ever again. Who the hell do you think you're talking too?"

His lips tremble at her enraged face.

"I ruined and sacrificed my life, for you. And this is how your repay me. Seokjin, many would wish to have the life I've given you. You're ungrateful. I give you everything, fame, money, girls...what else could you possibly need?"

Love.

Being cared for.

To be himself.

Happiness.

"Could you stop acting like a brat. It's disgusting and annoying and you're ruining me reputation!" He stomps onto the ground.

Seokjin stands there in silence. He could never win against her. He surrenders. I mean. He can't do anymore about it. He's already made it even worse. He can't necessarily leave too. Where would he go? He's nothing without her.

"M-mianae Eomma." He silently apologizes.

Hana holds her agitated expression and stares up at him.

"I-I wasn't thinking straight." Something breaks within him. The last bit of his soul.

Hana nods. "Go to your room. You are banned from the kitchen until the day after tomorrow at noon." She turns and sashays away angerly.

Seokjin bolts to his room. He swings the door open and tosses himself onto his bed. He breaks into loud sobs.

She doesn't care.

She never cared.

Just used him for his face and body.

Never even noticed or worried that Seokjin had dried blood stains on his clothing.

His face burns up as he skinks his head deeper into his pillow.

'useless fuck. She never liked you, your whole existance is a mistake. You'll never get out here, you don't deserve freedom nor to be happy. You should just kill yourself. Fat! ugly! dumb! freak!'

"Leave me alone!!!" He yells into his pillow and chokes on a sob. "Stop talking just shut up!!! Just leave me alone!!!"

He rolls onto his back and clutches at his stomach as a burning sensation fill it along with the feeling of driller digging into his flesh. He clenches his jaw, his tear filled eyes glance out of his window. He squirms around on his bed, the pain unbearable. His head pounding.

"I-I just want to be happy and free. Is it really that much to ask for?" He murmurs.

He feels a heavy weight placed onto his chest. He feels suffocated.

Why does he have to put up with this?

His hands reach the pillow underneath his head. He flips his body over onto his stomach. He places his face down onto the pillow and pushes his head into it until he feels no oxygen entering his lungs. He grips at the edges of the pillow and digs his face in deeper and deeper.