The student council meeting went by without too much of a hassle. A quick talk, recapping where their funds were going, revising some paper work with his vice president, a chat of the upcoming school events, and it was over.

It was not worth going to school for.

Jeongin was regretful to admit it but he couldn't help the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. They could have easily conducted the meeting had he been gone, and any arising problems could have been ironed out by his vice president. He could have been out in the city; experiencing what the world was like when he stepped away from the call of duty. Now, he would only speculate about the missed opportunity as he shuffled down the sidewalk. That gnawing feeling grew. Next time.

I'll go with him next time.

Jeongin smiled to himself. Like that would ever happen. As much of a drag it was, he couldn't just run out on the student council like that. It was a role trusted to him and no one else, he was voted as the president and was expected to act as one while he remained in "office" for the rest of the year. And... and...

He shook his head clear of the thoughts that plagued his mind as he approached his house. From outside it looked empty, almost every light indoors firmly shut off except for the one lounging in the kitchen he always forgot to shut off. But if the single car parked in the driveway was any indication, his father was waiting for him somewhere inside, and most likely was prepping for a lecture. No sign of his mother yet. He scooted up to the front door, carefully unlocked it with his spare key, and gently pushed it open, taking extra care not to make any unnecessary noises and make his presence known as he shut the door.

The stairwell was right in front of him. But so was the kitchen. It was impossible to sprint by without being seen.

Even so, he dropped his head and bolted for the stairs.

"Jeongin."

The mentioned stopped in his tracks. He inhaled sharply, the grip on his bag strap tightening as he mentally preparing himself to face his parent.

His Dad was waiting patiently at the cheap round table, not the dining table, set up in the corner of the kitchen, a spread out file and a cup of something steaming warm resting in front of him. His father didn't bother to look up from his papers as he held a hand out to the chair adjacent from his seat, and firmly invited, "Do you want to sit with me?"

Jeongin hesitantly agreed, retreating to the safety of his room being nothing more than a whisper floating somewhere idly in the back of his mind. How often was it that his father calmly sat at the table and asked to talk with him? Even if he was about to be reprimanded for acting out of place. He gingerly took his seat and sat straight, perfect posture, shoulders back, he didn't know what his father wanted from him after all. It could very well be a long lecture on his actions. 'Do you know how dangerous?' and other fun escapades that came with the general chewing out.

Well, if his father was the one tasked with talking to him about his behavior, it probably wasn't as large of a problem that Jeongin originally thought it was. Or this might only be the first wave of it all. One thing was for certain.

His mother would be a lot less gentle.

After a while of silence and nothing more then a few exchanges of awkward glances, his father asked, "How is school?"

"It's good," The words didn't seem to flow as easily as Jeongin hoped. He searched for something more to say then that simple sentence but no matter how hard he looked, his mind was as barren as a desert. He went with the natural flow of conversation and shot back with his own inquiry, "How is work?"

"Good."

They didn't say much more than that.

Not for a while.

His father continued reading his papers, occasionally stirring the drink.

Jeongin continued to stare at his company.

His father broke their silence once again.

"How are your friends?"

"They're doing well."

His father grunted in acknowledgement.

And...

Nothing.

There was a rhythmic ticking tapping the center of his eardrums as their conversation dulled out.

The clock in the living room.

Ticking down.

It started wearing on Jeongin's nerves.

This was his Dad. His father.

Why was it so hard to talk with him?

For crying out loud, he can make a more fluent conversation with his teachers then with his own parents.

"You..." His Dad spoke up, barely managing to tear his gaze from the papers to look at his son. He seemed to be searching for the right words, eyes flinging from area to area before he finally settled on, "Been causing any trouble lately?"

"Never."

"Good, that's good."

He was scratching at the back of his neck. There were few times when he resorted to that gesture but it was as clear as day to those who noticed.

That was one consolation Jeongin had about this whole ordeal.

His father felt as awkward as he did.

It was somewhere between three and twenty minutes later in their silence that Jeongin decided he'd had enough of it. He straightened up in his seat, and spoke as clearly as he could muster in hopes to end this prolonged conversation of uncomfortable stares and one word answers, "Was there a reason you needed to talk with me? If it's about last night, I apologize. I acted out of spite and didn't think."

"Oh, that doesn't matter too much. They still signed the deal with me. It's..." His father stopped fidgeting and sent a firm stare to his son, "You haven't been hanging around with any shady characters lately, have you?"

Jeongin scrunched his face in confusion, "What? Of course not."

Small lie. Were they shady? To most, yes. Did they pose any threat to him? Debatable, but no. His parents didn't need to know. More importantly,

Why was that question asked?

He was positive no one knew about his outings with the crew. He was careful, so why would the thought arise in the first place?

Seeming to sense the suspicion radiating off of Jeongin, maybe not suspicion to him but a general sense of confusion and disappointment from the accusation, his Father quickly explained, "Your mother is convinced the reason you stormed out was because someone told you to."

"Someone?" Jeongin had to restraint himself from hissing the word. Although the assumptions were true to a certain extent, he couldn't help but feel the pang in his chest, the gnawing in his stomach, because he had never given her a reason to believe it. He pressed, "Who does she think I associate with? Common criminals?"

His father told flatly, "Lately, yes."

"Why? What for? And even if I were to come across those sort of people, does she really think I'd be swayed by a few degenerates?"

That's exactly what happened, was the first thought that came to his mind after he told that to his father. The next one was a string of apologies to Chan and the others for calling them denegerates, even if they weren't aware that he did. He choked back the flicker of guilt with a strained scoff, "Please, I wish she'd give me more credit."

"I want to believe you. I try to tell her that too but you know how she is; she worries about you."

"I know."

"Do you?" His father redirected his focus back to his piles of documentation, "I doubt it myself sometimes."

Ah.

Jeongin's eyes widened, as if something had just dawned on him.

He doesn't trust me.

"If, for some reason, you did become wrapped up in something dangerous, you would tell us?" The question probably sounded more weary then his Dad initially intended, but it still sounded so unclear, so skeptical of everything that has been said that it struck a nerve in his son. It almost felt as if neither of them had been entirely honest with each other since Jeongin had stepped through the threshold of their household. It left them both second guessing their words.

Jeongin gritted his teeth together and pushed the lie past his lips, his strained smile classically adorning them, "You and Mom are the first people I'd come to."

"Okay," He repeated it a second time in a sigh, more a gentle breath then a real word, "okay..."

"If that's all, please excuse me," Before the other could get another word in edgewise, Jeongin shot from his seat, trying to maintain his manners as he quickly bowed, collected his bookbag from off the ground, and scurried out of the kitchen. Hopefully to avoid both his parents for the rest of the night. Wishing to avoid them.

It worked all too well in his favor.

When his mother came home that night, she ignored him. No words. No glances. Not even a lecture before like he expected. Nothing. It was as if he had never belonged in her world, as if he never lived in it.

As he sunk into his mattress, an uncomfortable restlessness filling his limbs, a part of him wished for her to at least yell at him. Strike him. Acknowledge him in any way.

At least then he'd know he still existed.

✘