just for you || rui x reader pjsk

12: Dad

I wanted to let everything out. I wanted to stuff my face in with a pillow, lie down sideways and cry with all my heart.

I couldn't even do that.

Slowly, though, I felt my heart rate slowing down. My eye lids felt heavy, until I realized that they were long shut. Then, I stopped trying to think.

And then, time began to slow down. I drifted away.

* * *

Ah, welcome back.
Hmm... it looks like your mind is in a better state, but your heart isn't quite.

Someone was in front of me, but I couldn't make out anything about them.

Curiously, I opened my mouth.

But my voice wouldn't come out.

Hmm, I see.

Your eyes...they seem angered.

You had a fight with someone, girl?

He kept talking, but I still couldn't talk. I kept mouthing out words, but nothing would come out.

It felt like déjà vu.

Why? I wondered.

He smiled.

Then, it started to rain.

I hadn't paid attention to what surrounded that person and I, but now it was somewhere. It rained, harder and colder with each second.

I covered my ears.

"Daddy! Faster!" I cried even harder than I already was and slammed my hands on my father's head.

'I'...?

"Alright now. It's gonna be fine!" He tried to console me, but for me what mattered was that I was still dripping wet from a storm above me.

'Me'...

He turned a corner, then suddenly the streets looked oh-so familiar. "There! Daddy, there!" Gleefully pointing at our house in the distance, I started settling down.

'Our house'. It was our house.

Then, an unbearably bright light at the front covered everything but his shadow-covered back.

His shoulders were so broad, I thought.

Then, things went by in a flash.

"Mama..." she'd feed me, then go to her room for hours without coming out. I knew what she always did there.

All of a sudden, she dressed me up in a dress as pretty as her and as dark as her room when she went in there.

It didn't make me feel happy at all.

We went to a place where everyone stared at me, and then there was a picture of him.

I didn't know what was going on.

Then when we got home, I asked, "Mama, when is daddy coming home?"

She started crying and wailing.

I did too, with her.

Then, one day, I overheard her.

"I... can't handle this anymore."

"Every time."

"I go out, I see the traces of his death. I look at my daughter and she reminds me so much of him I can hardly look at her without wanting to cry."