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“Don’t look at him!”
.
.
“Don’t look at him. You have nothing to do with him”
“Why do you have to get involved with someone like him?”
“Dad, we love each other”
.
.
“I love him”
.
.
.
“Give it back to me!”
“Please, don’t”
.
.
“Let me go”
“P’ loves you”
.
.
.
.
“I love you”
“No! Don’t!”
.
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.
.
.
----
A loud bang echoing in his ears is what startles him from his sleep. The middle aged man bolting upright in his bed, the left side empty and so no one to witness a heaving chest and rarely given tears falling from his eyes unknowingly. The sun was already streaming in through the shutters on the windows and for a moment, a single unbearably silent moment, he sat there. The contents of his dream having shaken him to his core unlike anything else, even when his wife had almost died giving birth to their second child he had not felt such pain, even when his first son had to stay in hospital well into his first months in order to live did he not feel the pain that, that whatever that dream had been, had brought him. The silence was bearing down on his no longer sleep-addled brain and just when he thought he could calm down, the details of the dream came back to him. It felt so real, how could it have been a dream? Why would he dream about that thug and his son? There was no one he hated more than that family and to think that his precious son would--
“IN!” A new burst of sharp pain ladened panic caused the man to jump out of bed, caring little for the fact that he wore only a tank top and boxers, and throw open the door to his room. The house was still, the doors to his childrens rooms were ajar and after a short time he heard the low, murmuring voices of his family downstairs. His breath was forced out of his lungs in one go, leaving him breathless and stumbling to catch himself on the railing before he fell over from the almost palatable relief.
He took multiple minutes to regain himself and rethink his- the dream. It was rather odd for him to dream at all let alone dream about his son-
“Dear? Bahn? ” The sudden voice knocked him out of his train of thought harshly, startled to see his wife standing at the top of the stairs only a few feet away from him.
“I’ve been calling you for the past ten minutes” The woman said, coming towards him, looking more and more concerned the closer she got. “Are you alright? You look a bit pale”
The man stammered in his response, what exactly should he say? That he had a dream about their son- no, no he couldn’t worry Saeng like that. So instead he shook his head and said he was fine. He had to be fine. It was just a dream because he could hear In downstairs with An and Alin, he could hear him listening intently to whatever story that his niece was spinning and responding in his over the top and excited way that makes his chest tighten when he compares it to the utter despair and heartbreak in the dream-In’s voice.
After dressing himself and putting the sweat soaked bed clothes away (out of sight, out of mind), he made his way down the stairs and into their living room. Where he could see In sitting with Alin sideways in his lap, he was braiding her hair (something the man had told him off for once, emphasising how people would judge him for being able to do girls' hair- how unsightly). The weight pressing down on his chest lightened only for a second before In looked up and Bahn saw the bruise forming on his son's face. For a split moment he was furious, wondering who would dare to hit his son like that- until he remembered, it was him. He hit his own son. It was only him to blame for the dark purple blooming on his sons usually pale, spotless skin. Shame hit him like a brick when he saw the light in his son’s eyes dim at the sight of him, to see him look away without a smile or greeting and back to the girl in his lap.
Feeling worse than he had since before Saeng got pregnant the first time, he walked into the kitchen where he came across An making breakfast. He knew nothing about cooking and so didn’t really have any idea about what she was making, but he knew it would be good. The young woman looked up as he went over to the table and sat in one of the chairs heavily, her face pinched with worry.
“You okay dad?” She asked, looking at the man in question while stirring whatever it was in the pan that she was making without looking.
Bahn nodded his head, making an effort to look less stressed. “Yes. Yes I’m fine, just didn’t want to get out of bed this morning” He joked, forcing a laugh that he felt sounded natural enough to stop his daughter from worrying. She didn’t look particularly persuaded, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by the sound of In enthusiastically agreeing with something that Alin said, Saeng laughing along with them. An’s face lit up as if remembering something and turned the stove gas down before turning to face him.
“Ah! Dad! That reminds me, In’s birthday is in a few days, what should we do for him?”
The question was innocent enough, but Bahn could sense that there was some sort of underlying meaning. “What do we usually do?” He knew what they did, every year they opened their house to his friends to come over and An would cook In’s favourite foods, the boys would be rowdy late into the night but that was okay because Bahn usually took the day after off to spend time with his family, so going to bed late was not a problem. However, with the development that had happened over the last year, Bahn thought that his son’s birthday wish may be different this time.
Before his daughter could answer, Saeng led Alin into the kitchen by the hand to the table with In trailing along behind her. Before long An put the food on the table and the silence that had reigned for more than three minutes now subsided, being taken over by the skraping of spoons and the clack of chopsticks. Breaking the somewhat comfortable silence was In putting his chopsticks down and requesting to leave the table- having eaten breakfast in record timing.
In wanting to leave so early in the morning despite it being a Saturday was suspicious, Bahn knew that his son and his usual friends didn’t usually meet up much outside of school or special occasions. So it could be only one person that he wanted to see.
The flash of anger was uncontrolled and almost overwhelming but before he could say anything, Intouch had hopped out of his seat at the first nod from his mother and almost ran to the front door, shouting a goodbye before anyone at the table could react.