!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!
-HOMOPHOBIA (SLURS)
-ABUSE
-DOMESTIC VIOLENCE
-SUBSTANCE ABUSE
-VERY EXPLICIT AND DETAILED SEX SCENES
-SELF-HARM
-ANGER MANAGEMENT ISSUES
-SEX ADDICTION
-HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS
-INTIMACY ISSUES
The sound of glass clinking echoed down the hall. Ren recognized it immediately. His father was on his third drink, maybe his fourth. The thought made Ren's stomach twist. He could feel the familiar, creeping dread settle in, coiling tightly in his chest as he approached the living room. His father's figure was slouched in the dim light, a half empty bottle beside him on the coffee table.
"I told you," his father slurred, barely looking up as Ren walked in. "You've got to stop wasting your life working at that bar… or on that band of yours." His voice held a harshness that felt more like a weapon than a lecture. "Enough with these late-nights and that noise you call music. You need to get a real job, settle down, marry a nice girl… Start thinking about children, about a family."
Ren's jaw clenched as he crossed his arms, forcing himself to keep calm. He'd heard this before countless times, like a broken record. But tonight, he felt more raw than usual, his patience paper-thin.
"I don't want any of that," Ren muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
His father's head snapped up, a cold, narrowed gaze locking onto him. "What did you say?"
"I said I don't want that," Ren replied, louder this time. "I don't want the kids, the house, or the 'nice girl.' I want my music, my life on my terms."
His father sneered, taking another swig. "Oh, sure. Your music. You think that's going to pay bills? You think playing guitar in some dingy bar will mean anything in a year, in five years? You think your 'passion' will keep you warm when you're old and alone?"
Ren's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as his father's words dug into him. He could feel his heart pounding, every beat pushing him closer to saying something he'd never dared admit. He opened his mouth, half-formed words swirling like a storm in his mind, each more volatile than the last.
"Answer me, Ren!" his father barked, his voice thick with contempt. "What could possibly be more important to you than having a real family? What's wrong with you, boy?"
Ren felt something snap inside him, a tension he couldn't keep bottled up any longer. The words spilled out before he could stop them, raw and unfiltered.
"BECAUSE I'M GAY, DAD!"
For a moment, silence. His father's face twisted into a look of disgust, his eyes narrowing as if Ren were a stranger. He slowly set his drink down, the gesture strangely calm. Too calm.
"What the fuck did you just say?" His father's voice dropped, deadly quiet, but Ren could see the tremor of rage flickering in his eyes.
Ren swallowed hard but held his ground, his voice shaking. "I'm gay. I don't want the wife, or the family, or any of it because that's not who I am."
He barely had time to react. His father's hand was a blur, the first blow knocking the breath out of him, his cheek burning with a sharp, hot pain. Ren stumbled backward, bracing himself against the wall as his father's fists kept coming, each hit laced with a venom he hadn't known his father was capable of. The words followed, slurred and vicious.
"Dad! Dad stop, please! Please stop!" Ren choked out through sobs, his heart breaking with each hit.
"An embarrassment… Is this how you repay me, you fucking faggot? After everything I've done for you?" His father's voice was thick with anger, the smell of alcohol sharp and overpowering. "You'll never amount to anything, Ren! You're dead to me!"
Ren curled into himself, instinct taking over as he shielded his head and waited for the onslaught to stop. His father's tirade finally faded into the background, the pain in his body dulled by a deeper ache, a hollow, sick feeling in his chest. He didn't know how long he stayed there, pressed against the wall, holding himself tightly. When he finally forced himself to move, he staggered to his feet, gripping the doorframe to steady himself.
He looked back, one last time, at the man who had raised him. But all he saw was a stranger.
Without a word, Ren stumbled out. The cold night air bit into his skin as he stepped outside, but he barely felt it. Each step took him farther from that house, from the weight of expectations he'd carried for too long. It hurt, knowing he was walking away from family, from everything he'd known.
As he made his way toward the only safe haven he knew, Ren's heart raced with the uncertainty of his future. He needed someone, anyone, who would understand.
Yohei was pulled from sleep by a loud, frantic knock. He glanced at his phone. It was nearly 2 a.m. and he stumbled toward the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The knock came again, sharper, more insistent. Heart pounding, Yohei yanked the door open, his breath catching in his throat.
Ren stood in the hallway, his face barely recognizable under a web of fresh bruises. A darkening patch spread across his cheek, and his bottom lip was split, the blood dried and crusted along the cut. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, exposing an angry red welt, and he looked like he'd been barely holding himself together.
"Ren?"
Yohei's voice was sharp with shock and anger, his mind racing as he took in the injuries, the haunted look in Ren's eyes. He reached forward, steadying Ren with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Get inside," Yohei said, voice tight with fury. He guided Ren over to the couch, where Ren slumped, exhausted, into the cushions. Yohei knelt in front of him, looking over his friend's battered face. "Who did this to you?"
Ren closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as he took a shuddering breath. "It… it was my dad," he said finally, barely above a whisper.
Yohei's grip on Ren's shoulders tightened, his body going rigid. "He beat you?" His words came out through gritted teeth, each one carrying a barely contained fury. "That bastard—"
"He was drunk, Yohei," Ren murmured, his voice weak. He laughed, a sound bitter and hollow, and looked away. "He didn't like what I had to say. I… I told him the truth."
Yohei's chest tightened. He didn't need to ask what Ren meant. He knew about Ren's struggles, about the way he hid parts of himself just to keep the peace. But tonight, it seemed, that delicate balance had shattered. Yohei's face darkened, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. His hands shook, and he barely contained the urge to punch something, anything to release the rage building in his chest. "Your old man did this to you because you told him you were gay?"
Ren nodded, not meeting his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. "Yeah. He… he didn't take it well."
Yohei let out a low, furious growl. "You're not going back there, Ren. Not after this." His voice was steady, but beneath the words was a barely contained fury, a protective edge that bordered on violent. "And don't even think about arguing with me."
Ren's shoulders slumped, and he let out a weak sigh. "Yohei, my stuff is all there. Everything I own…"
"Then I'll get it," Yohei interrupted sharply, his voice brooking no argument. "You're not stepping foot in that place again. I don't care if I have to go in there myself and pack it all up. He's not getting the chance to do this to you again." He locked eyes with Ren, his gaze fierce and unwavering. "I'll go tomorrow. I'll handle it."
"Yohei, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." Yohei's tone was final. "I'm not letting you go back there, not for your stuff, not for anything. I'll get your things, and you're staying here with me. For as long as you need."
Ren looked at him, stunned, the faintest glimmer of relief breaking through the weariness in his eyes. "Are… are you sure? What if he—"
Yohei's face hardened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "If he tries to stop me, I'll make him regret it." He straightened up, crossing his arms, his protective instincts blazing. "You don't need to go back there for anything. Don't worry about a thing."
Ren managed a small, broken smile. "I… I don't know what I'd do without you, Yohei."