Hate Me

Biologically

Nostalgia- Suki Waterhouse
"I miss you more than I say I do."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
-NI-KI-

Clutching the brown paper bag, I step back into the taxi. Sitting down, I close the door and buckle in. Sakura folds her arms in front of me annoyedly.

"Is that for your new girlfriend?" She asks.

"She's not my girlfriend."

Yet.

"I don't even know why you like her. I'd always thought you'd be into the quick fuck type and then settle with some, like, badass mafia wife."

"Maybe I'm mentally deeper than you think I am," I can practically feel her eyes roll.

"You literally didn't care about your father dying. I wouldn't call that deep," I spin my head at her.

"Why are you defending him? He was a terrible person."

"Yeah, Ni-ki, I know, but he was still your father," What she says stings me. She's right, biologically. Biologically, he's my father. In no other way is he a dad to me.

I lean my head against the cold window, the dew gathering on my forehead. Clutching the back, I sigh as the hospital comes into view.

Of course, my father rented out an entire hospital for himself. He's always been extravagant, and thinks he's so important. It annoys me more than words can describe.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
-Later-

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, and walk inside my father's room. The room, of course, is big. Well, for a hospital room. My dad lays in a stretcher, and I can't really tell what's wrong with him. He's laying under a tight blanket, sleeping. My mother's not in sight, which I'm not particularly angry about.

I look towards the window still, where there's flowers and cards of all sorts. Probably forced people to make them for him.

I walk lightly over to my dad's side, kneeling down. I look back at Sakura, and she shakes her head in assurance with a slight smile. Sighing, I set a hand on his arm. His sleeping face annoys me, just to know him and what he's done...to innocent people, innocent children...

His features flinch, and his eye peeks open. Blinking a few times, he suddenly registers who I am. His eyes widen, and he gasps. I guess I wouldn't blame him: I haven't seen him since I fled for Korea and then America, four whole years ago.

"R-Riki?" Is that you?" He asks lowly, as if it's troubling him to breathe. It's kind of unsettling, he usually has such a strong voice that's full of confidence, but he just sound so weak.

"Hi, dad," I mutter through tears. I promised myself I wouldn't cry, yet I can't help it. This is all too nostalgic, but not in the good way.

"Son, son. It's been so long," He reaches a shakey hand upwards, the end of his knuckles caressing my cheek. Tears stream down my face.

"Dad, what happened?"

"I got shot in a work accident. I'm not gonna make it, son."

"D-dad, I hope you're proud of me. In America, I have a group. We're called Enhypen, and we're the most powerful in the country. We-"

"Shh, shh," He whispers. I sob on accident as his cold hand rubs my face in a fatherly way. I've never felt that before, anything like that, and it feels good.

"I'm proud," He pulls me down into a hug, and I oblige. His arms wrap around me, and, for the first time in my life, I feel safe. I feel like nothing can hurt me, even with his weak arms. The way he's rubbing my back, as if he loves me with all his heart, makes me feel so safe. I feel invincible.