Felix, a broken little finds comfort in his swim coach at his uni, he finds a hot boy, Hyunjin in his class, what will happen?
I honestly donno how to write descriptions so bare with me.
"Please," Felix whimpered, it was a Wednesday morning—Felix's least favorite day. It was the day when his father would not go to work, the day when he gets tortured, the day when he falls appart by himself, yet he still has to go to school.
"Pft, pathetic, all you are is a pathetic weak boy who doesn't deserve a life." The man slurred. The man who was apparently Felix's father had fading black hair, wrinkles too many to count, eyes darker then Felix's and a mole on the left side of his chin with hairs coming out of it.
The words rang in Felix's head, 'pathetic, that's all you'll ever be.' Were the thoughts filling his brain as the old man hit his 5th beer bottle next to him on the floor—which was painted crimson red with Felix's blood. The man punched the little boy once again, making his lips burst.
"D-dad, pu-please," another kick in the stomach. The helpless boy was laying in the floor, back against a wall.
"H-hurts." He whimpered, tears streaming out his eyes, sobs tearing out his chest. The man just scoffed at the words saying: "as if!"
'I'm gonna be late,' Felix thought. After about 5 minutes of constant kicks and punches, the man got tired. "You're lucky I'm tired today, next time tho, I'm not gonna spare you. " He said giving one last, hard kick to Felix's stomach.
"Go get ready, you little filthy fag." The man said turning around not sparing his son another look. "Yes, dad." The brunet said with his head hung low.
"Don't call me that, you're nothing to be proud of. Let alone call me 'dad'." He said in a mocking tone, "you're just a fag."
Felix didn't answer, instead he got up making his way to his room. He looked at his bed 'oh, how I wish I can go back there.' Instead he turned to his closet, picking out one of his very big hoodies, and sweatpants. He signed, going into the bathroom.
He stood in front of his very big mirror, he lifted his white—now red—over-sized tee. Red, blue, black and purple covered his stomach amongst the thousands—almost millions of freckles. He slowly lifted his trembling hand to caress his stomach, he sobbed, 'that's what you get.' The voice inside his head told him that. "Pathetic fag." He said out loud.
With that he dropped his hand and turned away from the mirror to change his clothes.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
After changing and covering his bruises with some makeup, he wore black cargo pants topped with a black hoodie with 'original' written in small hand writing in the top right corner.
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(I couldn't find a hoody with original written on it so u'll have to use ur imagination ;))
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