~Even when happiness is your only pursuit in life, you still need a bit of hope to get you through.~
Bangtan Sonyeondan returns to the US to film a second season of American Hustle Life but, this time, they take the streets of New York.
While Farrah...
Someday you're gonna look back on this moment of your life
As such a sweet time of grieving.
You'll see that you were in mourning
And your heart was broken,
But your life was changing...
― Elizabeth Gilbert
"Farrah! Fabe! Get your asses off that computer and come eat!"
Their mother's voice bled through the walls of the computer room, and they could smell the mouthwatering aroma of spiced tomato sauce and melted mozzarella, but neither of them moved as InuYasha and Sesshoumaru battled it out on the screen; competition between the two was always fierce and it was a rare occasion when InuYasha seemed to really be holding his own. They watched, riveted as InuYasha began to stumble, only to be refueled by the power of his father's sword, So'unga, that had attached itself to the Half-Demon's sword arm.
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"Farrah!" came their mother's voice again, but this time she sounded even more frustrated. Farrah quickly paused the movie and she and her littlest brother, Fabian, hastily made their way from the computer room, through the living room, and to the dining room. They sat quickly and politely, both unable to meet their parents' stern gazes.
"Let me guess," their father, Anthony Sykes, sighed from the head of the table, "InuYasha." They nodded. Next to Anthony sat Ford, the middle child, munching away.
"InuYasha and Sesshomaru were battling each other again, but this time InuYasha was gonna win," Fabian exclaimed excitedly, "It was just getting good..." he muttered, lowering his gaze as his mother, Martha, placed a Greek salad in front of him.
"I know baby, but you have to eat," Martha cooed, ruffling her youngest child's soft, honey-colored curls, "Now eat your salad, and I'll have some lasagna for you."
"It wont happen again," Farrah assured her parents as she tucked in to her salad, "Promise." Her long bangs veiled one half of her face as she brought the silver-plated fork to her mouth and her parents rolled their eyes; it would probably happen again.
"Yea, yea, yea," Ford said, licking the last of the vinaigrette from his fork, "You said that last time." At that, Farrah sent him a menacing glare that wiped the smirk form his pimpled face, only to have it replaced with a huge grin when his mother placed a steaming plate of lasagna before him.
"Now, I didn't see either of you say your grace," their mother scolded, her hands on her wide hips. The two flushed and bowed their heads to pray as Ford snickered at them; it was nice not to be the one in trouble every now and again.
