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he means a lot to you. you never had an emotional connection with your parents or your family in general; you never really were alike. he was different from your family though; he related to you and when he didn't, he took the time to hear you out and understand you. he didn't seem like the type to take in a runaway fifteen year old, but as time has gone by, you learned that he is; he is exactly what this runaway fifteen year old needed.
with no place to sleep besides store corners and park benches, no money to buy food or clean clothes; this man didn't see you as 'just another runaway'. he offered you the only money he had on him; twenty dollars, which you happily accepted. and unlike most, he took a seat next to you on the park bench you were currently calling home and asked you to explain your story -- as long as you felt comfortable with that.
you looked in his eyes and searched for any signs of misleading trust and care, but saw nothing but genuine curiosity and concern. so you did; you told him your story.
the two of you had talked for hours about your lives then proceeded to talk about arbitrary topics. he stopped by your 'home' during the afternoon and as it became night you decided that, although you were grateful for his company, he should leave and return home before the night got darker. he arose from his spot beside you on the bench and didn't even let you say goodbye as he offered you his home as a place to stay.
that's right -- stay. he wanted you to stay with him, not sleep there for a night or two just to throw you back out on the streets; he wanted you to live with him.
it all seemed like this was happening too fast, but you remembered that in those hours he spent with you, he learned more about you than your family ever has. he never judged you, he listened to you. and now there he is stood in front of you, hand out as he awaited your response.
you looked into his eyes once more; he had to be lying, there's no way this was going to end well. you were thinking the worst; maybe he lied about everything, maybe he's a murderer looking for vulnerable teens to lure into a false sense of love and care.
but his eyes told a different story than what your mind was thinking. his eyes were pleading you to take his offer of a place to stay. he genuinely wanted to help you; he didn't think this would be happening today or at all, but he couldn't stand the thought of leaving you out there.
so you took his hand with caution and he thanked you softly, his voice barely above a whisper. and that's what brings you to where you are now.
he turned from the stranger you told your life story to into a father figure; he looked after you as if you were his own child. the guest room in his house became your new bedroom; the room continuously being filled with new trinkets and clothes that he has bought you. the house felt warm and secure; you finally felt like you belonged.
he enrolled you into the nearest high school. you worked hard to make good grades to make him proud and he worked hard in his office job to make sure you lived a good life. and everyday after he picked you up from school, he'd take you out for a 'father-daughter' date. the time you spend with him are moments you cherish; he loves you more than your family ever has.
he remembers the first time you called him 'dad'; you did it subconsciously and immediately apologized, but he looked ecstatic. he was more than happy to take place as a person you thought of as family.
and today, your birthday, as he picked you up from school, told you he has a gift for you. he placed a baby blue wrapped box with a gold bow in the center on your lap and asked you to open it; you did as told without hesitation.
the now removed box lid revealed papers; specifically adoption papers. you scanned the signed document in awe, joyful tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. he knew that from the way you hugged him that you were happy; you didn't need to tell him in words.
you closed the box back up with the lid and held onto it with a tight grip, leaning back into the passenger seat.
'yoongi ?' you called out to him as you put on your seat belt.
'yes ?'
'let's go home.'