Chapter Text
Jisung was 14 years old when he realizes he never really had a mom or a dad.
People who loved him and treated him like someone precious, someone worth being loved for. Though he did have a little makeshift family, weird as all hell, but his ; Haechan as the brother that he never thought he deserved. Loving, annoying, caring, and by his side through thick and thin. Jisung can't say he's never felt so in tune and connected with someone before - other than Jeongin, his only friend in school. Those two were really the only people he could count on. The only ones who didn't make him feel incompetent. No one's opinion truly mattered except theirs, not even his parents.
And yeah, sure, he guessed you could include them. They were alive and well. If you could disregard the fact that they didn't really pay attention or bothered to offer him the love of an actual parent when he most needed it. Despite that, he had still loved them, doing what he could to please his parents, looking for that praise and warmth he knew now that he would never get. After all, isn't that what moms and dads were supposed to do?
To love and care for their child, their blood and flesh?
Was his love for them not enough?
Why hadn't he been enough?
When Jisung had started coming home with bruises and black eyes, did they begin to care, prattling on about their image and whatnot. It was some kind of attention, not the kind he wanted, but attention nonetheless.
Desperate and young, he continued. Continued to fight and instigate arguments with petty people that he knew would give in to their dark side. Maybe it was greed or envy or anger that motivated him and his true intentions. Maybe it was just him in general, but Jisung would only punch harder each time. For a wave of rage, he didn't know why he had, he'd punch and yell, not caring when blood would start flying from the face of the poor son of a bitch that tried to go against him.
But as time passed, Jisung had slowly started to realize that the love he felt for them was not truly there. He didn't love them. Never loved them. Only the idea of them and the image of a mother and father.
A fantasy.
That was the most devastating moment he had ever experienced. For someone his age to acknowledge the truth and ache for something that he can't ever have. Jisung shouldn't have had to open his eyes and see the reality for what it was. He hadn't wanted to either, but he knew that if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to make his own way and push himself past the mold that his 'parents' perceived him as.
Weak, naive, pushover
Jisung cried himself to sleep that day. Muffled wails and red-rimmed eyes were hidden behind his bedroom door. He remembered his nails creating crescent shapes into his forearms, hoping for some pain greater than what he was feeling then. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, what he had come to discover, was not true. That they loved him, that he could convince himself he could too. But his heart beat loudly and his blood rushed in his ears, reminding him that it was no dream. It was his reality. A harsh, cold, unforgiving reality. It sends a sharp pain through his chest each time he recalls every detail, every breath in his dark moments. It served as a reminder to be worth something and prove them wrong. Make them regret.
I'll prove you wrong and show my worth, he whispers to himself every day after that.
(His fights were more frequent out of spite. He found his release through it, unorthodox, yet an outlet to his bottled emotions. Seeing the disapproval looks on their faces was all the satisfaction he needed.)
<now>
Three days after his 15th birthday, things went from an okay life (as okay as it can be while living with people who didn't give a shit about you) to worse.
Jisung stood in the doorway of their house, tired from school and dumbass students, his eyes immediately zoning into the scene. the loud voices he heard down the driveway were his mother and father. They bellowed curses at each other as if it would in any way mend their crumbling relationship. Their faces were red and ugly, his mom's favorite vase broken between the two adults - probably why the argument started in the first place. The living room was cold and crackled with energy that made his heart beat slightly faster. Their voices echoed throughout the house and vibrated inside Jisung's head like a warning.
It wasn't something he expected to see after arriving from school but again, nothing surprising. They'd been fighting for a little over a few months now. It'd start with petty fights over dishes and chores, to the women his father would talk with at work, to his mother coming home late from the office. Each time Jisung noticed the tension he'd just hide away in his room or hang out at the park(which only lasted so long before he'd start shit with someone or vice versa). Lately, though, he prefers to go to the convenience store Haechan works in at night.
Jisung face paled when his father stepped forward into his mother's face as an act of intimidation. His heart began to hammer against his chest, adrenaline surging through his body as their shrieks get higher and anger clouded their eyes. The visible spit coming from their mouths could be seen flying through the air between them and the nasty monster within only seemed to rile the tension up even more. His father - who apparently had enough of his mother's accusations - raised a hand and slapped her hard. The sound echoed through the room like a final gunshot.
Now, Jisung's mom has never been one to back down or be afraid to fight back, so when she took a swing at his father's face without a second of hesitation, he noticed that things would only escalate from there. So he spun around and stepped back out the door with his backpack clenched in his hand. Jisung slammed the door shut, not caring if he'd get in trouble later on, and ran down the walkway of the house (not home, never home).
He barely made it past the street corner before letting out a shaky gasp and stumbling over his wobbly legs. His stomach twisted and he quickly bent over in time to vomit the acidic liquid. His eyes felt like they were burning with unshed tears and he wasn't sure if he was breathing enough oxygen when he dizzily lifted his head.
Jisung stumbled onto his feet to stand up and slowly began making his way to the park near his school. He passed drunkards and giggling teens in alleyways before sagging with relief when he saw swing sets coming into view. His nails were digging painfully into his palms yet he couldn't seem to feel a thing as he sat against the park gate, shaking, shocked.
They never fought like this. Never.
Yet he was stupid enough to think that the worst thing they could do was just forget about their own son. He should've expected it, honestly. The churning in his stomach each time he was in the same room with either adult, grew with every argument. A person's instincts is vital to survival, and Jisung ignored it from the very beginning.
If anything, Jisung knew that with his luck, it'd only get worse from there.