Prompt: A prompt of when Jin's dad said Jin wasn't his son
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The taste of vodka was thick in my mouth. My heart beat too fast, my hands shaking. I stumbled in the backyard, water bottle full of vodka clutched in my hand.
The world spun dangerously and the ground rose up to meet me. I hit hard, wincing and curling up on myself as my stomach lurched.
I dry heaved, but nothing came out. I didn't even know how I'd ended up on the ground. I had no idea what I'd tripped over.
I grabbed a handful of grass, tearing from the earth. My hand fell open, grass in my palm. I stared at it, my vision blurry and unfocused.
I rolled onto my side, holding the water bottle against my chest. My eyelids felt so heavy. The liquor was keeping my body warm despite how cold it was outside. There were goosebumps on my bare arms, and the cold wind blew my hair into my eyes.
My eyes fell closed, the darkness swallowing up my vision.
***
"Jin? Jin!"
Someone was shaking me. My eyes opened, but only briefly. They took in the sight of my father's concerned face before shutting again.
"Shit," dad said, and I felt his arms under me.
He lifted me up, holding me against his chest. I heard something hit the ground and the sound of my dad kicking the water bottle.
"This fucking vodka!" he snapped. He adjusted my body so he had a better hold on me. My head dropped against his shoulder, my body too tired and too drunk to keep it up.
I wished he'd set me back on the ground. He was bouncing my body too much with every step and my stomach was twisting on itself.
A rush of warmth hit me and my eyes cracked open as we moved through the house. I shut them again as my bed came into view.
Dad laid me on my bed, wrapping me carefully in blankets. He rolled me onto my side, elevating my head on the pillows.
I burrowed deeper into the blankets, letting my thoughts slip away again.
***
I heard yelling and slowly opened my eyes. I was wrapped in blankets, lying on my bed. My bedroom door was closed, but the voices were just beyond it.
"...enough of this!" Dad's voice.
"He's just a boy!" Mom's voice.
"He was clutching vodka while he was passed out in the backyard. It's freezing out and he was unconscious in just jeans and a T-shirt. He could've frozen to death if we weren't home!" dad snapped.
"He needs our help, not our anger," mom snapped right back. "He's hurting, Kenji. He is your son."
"My son?" dad said. "My son is the kind, quiet, sober boy we raised. Not the drunk lying in Jin's bed."
"Jin needs us," mom said, her voice fierce. "I don't care if he's an alcoholic for the rest of his damn life. He is our son, and we are not giving up on him."
"He's just a damn teenager!" dad cried. "He shouldn't be drinking. We can't even find a way to stop him. Every time I think I've found his stash of vodka, he just shows up drunk again. And the cigarettes? God, he reeks of the smokes."
"Then we need to try harder," mom said. "We need to get through to him. He has a problem. We're his parents; it's our job to keep him healthy and safe."
"It's his job too," dad said. "He's old enough to take care of himself. How many times do we have to tell him he's killing himself before he finally listens?"
I gripped the blankets, shoving down the rush of emotions rising in me. I closed my eyes, clinging to the fog of liquor drowning my rational thought. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel.
I didn't want to care.
"I don't care," I slurred out quietly.
"Jin is our son and he needs us," mom said, voice determined.
"That's not my fucking son!" Dad's voice was angry and desperate, too loud and too choked.
I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter. I wanted to drown in alcohol. I want to kill everything in me. My feelings, my thoughts, me.
"I don't care," I whispered. "I don't care. I don't care."
I whispered it until it was true.
I whispered it until all that was left was the fog of vodka and the impassive emptiness that protected me.
It had grown very silent outside of my room. I could feel how tense it was, the crumbling relationship of my family pressing down on all of us.
All my fault. But I didn't care.
"Then get out of my way," mom said, voice calm. "Get out of my way so I can go check on my son."
I kept my eyes close as my bedroom door opened. My bed shifted under my mom's weight as she sat down, gently brushing my hair out of my face.
"You'll be okay, Jin," mom said, quiet now. "We'll get you help. I promise you'll be okay."
I didn't care. I didn't care if I was ever okay again. I didn't care if my parents loved me or gave up on me. I didn't care if I wasn't their fucking son.
Eyes closed and fog settling over my mind, I let myself fall back asleep, my dad absent from my side. I just didn't care anymore.
