Still A_Stray: Living With Stray Kids (ot8 fanfic)

Chapter 16 ★

Hey guys! 

I wasn't sure what to put for TW for this chapter, but this is one of the most intense ones, so ... flashbacks to a crappy childhood, and mild swearing. Happy reading.

Monday~

My head hurts

The second I woke up, I knew something was wrong.

Already my mind felt sluggish and dry, my thoughts coming either too quickly or too slow. Things were instantly impossible to do—getting out of bed felt like wading through syrupy mud. I forced myself to take in my surroundings, blinking slowly: white sheets, glass of water on the nightstand, strands of my hair piercing my vision like shadowy cracks, breaking it into sections. My mouth was scratchy and stiff, but the water was too far away. I didn't want to move my arm to grab it. I didn't want to move anything.

I knew from experience it would be like this for the remainder of the day.

I knew these days. I rolled over, staring at the wall, praying for solace from my own mind. I knew these days like war veterans knew death—always there, lurking at the edges of their being, patiently waiting to be able to return and steal them away again.

I don't remember when they started—only that I'd had them since I was young, these episodes that occurred at random. I'd initially just assumed I was being lazy. I would force myself to get up and go about my normal routine, except everything was ten times harder. School was a monstrosity during those days, when I felt like I was running on sand, every step unstable and slipping out from under my feet.

No one understood them, including me. I had tried explaining it to my mother, once, after it had taken me fifteen minutes to brush my teeth.

I don't know. I just ... can't today.

I remembered the way her eyes had cut into me, her face tightening like a rubber band stretching to its breaking point. What have I told you about making excuses, Yeji?

It's not an excuse.

It sure sounds like one to me. All I ask of you is that you get to school on time so you do not mess up your attendance record. I fail to see why that is hard.

And yet, it was.

The way that I felt on those days was the exact thing my mother deemed unacceptable. When all I wanted to do was stay in bed for the day, she made me go to school, go to my extracurriculars, and do chores like normal. My slowless, my lack of effort, infuriated her to give me more chores, more duties.

Why must you put your own laziness over the needs of the family?

"I'm not doing it on purpose, mom," I whispered, my fists curling over the bedsheets. "I would never intentionally hurt the family. I promise."

She didn't hear me.

-

I never knew my father.

My mother worked for a while before I was born, but abandoned her job to care for her family; my father had always brought in the brunt of the money we lived on. He had a good job, but a nocturnal one; he worked long into the hours of the night, coming back in the afternoons after I had left for school and sleeping for the rest of the day. Oftentimes, he would leave on business trips, and we wouldn't see him for a few days to a few weeks.

In fact, most of what I knew about my father had come from my mother's lips. Papa's on another business trip; he'll be back in a week. No, you can't see father. He's working right now. You must be quiet—your father is resting. He's had a long day.