being lonely | minsung | ✔

25

Saturday came sooner than I was ready for.

I'm sitting in my parent's car in the back seat, looking at the surroundings that pass by as we drive to the venue the party is at. My parents have been preparing all day for this party, actually dressing up in a fancy suit and dress. Of course, my dad has to because he fulfills a pretty important role in the business. My mom mostly did it because she rarely has the chance to dress up.

And then there's me, I didn't even put that much effort in my looks. I spent a total of ten minutes looking for the most formal clothes I have in my dresser and eventually settled with black skinny jeans with an all-black button-up. I think I look pretty decent.

The car stops in front of the huge building where the company resides. The ground level itself is already spacious enough to host a party with over a hundred people.

I've been there once before when I was young. I can't remember but my dad told me he lost me on the main floor and it took them an hour to find me because it's that large.

I follow my parents out of the car, resisting the urge to dig my hands into my pockets because embarrassing my dad in front of his colleagues is the last thing I want to do. Not because his reputation is so important to me but I already have enough issues with my parents.

And then we enter the building. The first thing that catches my attention is how the cold fluorescent lighting temporarily has been replaced by countless lightstrings, bathing the usually hard and sterile interior in a soft, warm light. Long tables are everywhere, covered with red satin and countless drinks and small bites displayed on them.

I soon realize most of the drinks are expensive wines or even more expensive champagne and I scrunch up my nose in disgust, hoping that no one is watching.

Everyone looks like they've been here for hours, settled with a drink in their hand and having someone to talk to. All together, their conversations form a incoherent cacophony and I instantly remember why I don't like crowds.

They make noise.

My dad stops in front of a table with men all clad in suits, either important men he has to impress or his closest colleagues. With a too bright toothpaste smile on his face and my mom's hand on his arm, he greets the men.

But not before whispering in my mom's ear, "maybe if I can get a promotion tonight, I'll be rid of that gay fag."

It's still early -only five PM- but my mood is already ruined for the time left tonight. And I don't think it can be fixed tonight.

"This is my son, Jisung," my dad suddenly speaks, placing a hand on my shoulder to push me forward. I blink a few times, too startled to react properly.

"Ah, hello, nice to meet you," I politely greet them as I recovered from the surprise. I bow deeply, overexaggerating a normal bow because that's how my dad seems to plan on winning over these guys. Overexaggerating everything.

It goes like that for a while, following my parents around as they converse with important-ass looking men and occasionally drag me to the front to introduce myself. I don't even know why, am I that important?

I can't help but wonder, did I meet my dad's gay co-worker already, without knowing it? All the men I've seen appear stiff and unfriendly and judging from my dad's stories, his co-worker isn't like that.

"Jisung, sweetie, your dad and I have to talk with someone," my mom suddenly announces, gently placing a hand on my arm. "You'll be alone for a while, is that okay? If not, I can stay-"

I cut her off with a hasty smile. "No mom, it's okay, go with dad. I'll be fine here."

"We'll be back soon, Ji," my dad announces before they disappear in the crowd, leaving me to cringe over that nickname that's only used by my friends.