(Pov: Win
Writer: Cannibal_The_Potato)

It wasn't like today was special; In fact, it'd been rather monotonous for a Friday. That was how things normally were for me though. After six hours of listening to my teachers drone on about topics only my parents would find important, I approach my home. It's a bit of a walk from school, but I don't mind it. It gives me time to think. My footsteps are faint against the pavement outside, and almost faded into the background and the sounds of the wind gushing in swirling motions. I can hardly hear my own thoughts over the breeze.

It's an acceptably sized apartment building with clear glass windows on any turn inside the house. A cool light wood covers the base of the house, matched with clean white walls, and a long hallway leading to other rooms from the living room.

I walk up the steps to his house, and rotate the knob to the front door open, which leads you to the corridor of doors. I slide the key into his apartment door, and turn it open. The smell of spicy seasonings greet me as I step inside. I can tell my mother is busy in the kitchen. I untie my shoes, took them off and slid my feet into the black slippers that sit by the door. Everybody in the household has our own pair; we don't wear shoes inside.

"Hi mom," My voice says to the black haired woman currently standing in front of the stove one room away. She's fair skinned, Asian, with dark brown eyes and hair that falls to her rib."Hi, Win," I hear from the kitchen. She's always had a very calm voice, and now is no different. Only this time there's something else. She sounds serious. Did I do something? "How was school?" She asks, not looking up from her cooking. "Good." I don't really feel like telling her much, but I know she's going to ask more. It's what she always does. "How was the math test?" My mother inquired, stirring the noodles with her wooden spoon once. I'd told her about it a few days ago, since I didn't really have a choice. She had a way of getting information out of me. "It was pretty easy. I probably got a 100." "Probably?" I can hear the disappointment in her voice, and it sinks to the bottom of my stomach. Grades are absolutely everything to her. If it doesn't end with two zeros, it's invalid. End of story. "I mean, I-" "You need to study harder next time," She says with an exasperated sigh, cutting me off abruptly, and then turns to me and waves her hand away like I hadn't studied for five hours yesterday without break. "Go study. " Her voice is firm, and I just lower my eyes and nod my head. What can I say anyways?

Once I reach my room, I lay my book bag onto the floor and pull out several textbooks. The door is left wide open, and anyone walking by could see a clear view of me. I've grown accustomed to this. Privacy is not something I am granted in this house, unfortunately.
One time I accidentally closed my door, and in only ten minutes, I heard it swing open with my father behind it, completely pissed off. It was kind of a scary sight, and since then, I always make sure to have it open. I'm not sure what the hell my parents think I'm doing, but they clearly have to keep an eye on me 24/7.

My room is medium sized, with a huge bookshelf on one wall, and my twin sized bed right in front of it, with it's from against the opposite wall. The walls are a soft shade of purple, almost white, which my parents didn't approve of, but I painted it anyways a month ago on my own. Naturally I did it when they'd been gone for a day, and they couldn't do much about it when they returned and saw. They want to repaint over it, but haven't done it yet. There is a large square shaped window in the center of the wall to the left of my bed, with blinds and a black curtain. It's always kept very neat as I know my parents will have a fit if a single sock is out of place. There isn't much on the walls, but I do have a Dagonronpa poster by my bed, minus the gore. I don't have much time to watch anime, but I still do it when I can, which isn't much. I spend most of it surrounded by books.
Soon after I sit down on my bed, I pull open my advanced geometry textbook, and start to read over the printed lines sprawled across the page.

Time skip.

An hour later, the front door swings open, and I hear the mixture of the two voices from my parents, one is monotone and higher, while the other is deeper and slightly more gruffy. "Winneh! Your dad is home," my mother calls from the living room, but I already know that. His footsteps can be heard to my room, and my father, an eyed Irish man with thick, dark brown hair steps inside my room. I turn my head up to look at him, and his dark green eyes fall over me darkly. "Hi dad.." My parents are always strict, but they've been in worse moods today. "Dinner is ready. Wash your hands," My dad says, and leaves the room.

I stand up from my bed, and walk to the bathroom; it's three rooms to the right. After I turn the knob, warm water runs over my hands with the cinnamon scented soap and water for about a minute, I turn the faucet off, and head to the kitchen. My parents are sitting across from each other, at the dark wooden, with a grey marble top, table. White porcelain bowls of noodles sit in front of them, with metal chopsticks at the side, and an empty chair in between them with a bowl remains for me.

I sit down in the chair between them, and my parents hold out their hands for me, and clasp each others. I take both of them, and let my eyelids fall shut. My mother starts to pray, "Dear merciful Lord, we thank you for all the blessings you've given us. Thank you for a safe home, a good neighborhood, our son's bright future, my husband and family, and food to put on the table. Thank you for warm clothing, and please bless this food. Amen." "Amen." "Amen." We release each other's hands, and our eyes open again.

My family has been going to Church for pretty much my whole life, so saying they're religious isn't much of a surprise. They're your typical hardcore Christians, with a love for the Bible, and a strong case of homophobia. I can't say anything about it, though. I've always known I was attracted to males, but my parents don't need to. If they knew, I'd probably get disowned, and just the thought of that makes me want to keep my mouth shut.

I pick up my chopsticks and hold it in my hand, dropping them into the bowl. "So, Win, your father has something to tell you."