I was having dinner with my parents and sisters today, so I wore my best button-down shirt and even shaved my stubble off. I smirked at myself in the mirror.

        I felt like Kenji at the moment—checking myself out—and my gaze moved down to my shirt. It was buttoned all the way, and I looked like a loser.

        Nah. Couldn't have that.

I undid two of the buttons. Better, but... I unbuttoned one more. Much better.

As soon as I walked away from the mirror, my phone rang. It was Gavin. "Hello?"

"Darian!" Someone sounded cheerful.

"What's up, Gav?" I sat on the couch, wanting to be comfortable before I walked through the hell hole that used to be my house. "How've you been?"

"Great, actually. Honoka and I met up today at Shirley Town Center, and we haven't had that much fun in a while." She listened to me after all. "She told me all about how you called her and pleaded for my case."

        "Sure did."

        "Now, we're finally moving on from all that unspoken tension and unnecessary drama."

"About time."

"Thanks, man," he said. "Thank you for helping Honoka and I work things out. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," I said. "I want to thank you, too."

"For what?" He sounded surprised.

"For putting me in my place." I leaned forward with my free hand on the couch. "You always keep me on track when I'm going astray." No one could completely tame me, but Gavin and Kenji did a damn good job of calling me out on my shit. "Thank you for keeping it real."

"You know that's why I'm here, Darian. I have your back—both yours and Aaron's."

"And we have yours," I made sure to add.

"I know. Plus, you need a little guidance every now and then," he said. "Someone has to have common sense in our group."

"Okay, you're going too far." I chuckled. "Aaron and I have common sense. Well, I do."

We laughed, but maybe a little guidance wasn't so bad after all. I was just glad to have things falling into place.

Gavin and I kept talking, which I needed to calm my nerves. Our talk made the dinner with my family seem less daunting.

        For now, at least.

"Darian!" my mother ran towards me with her arms opened—her heels clanking with each step. "My baby is home!" She pulled me into an embrace and planted a big kiss on my cheek.

I groaned. She probably left lipstick on my cheek. My mother pulled me back to give me a once-over, still holding onto my arms. "You look bigger and bigger every time I see you."

        "I'm a grown man," I said. I sounded like Aaron.

        She sent me that pouty smile mothers sometimes gave—as if I was a baby or something. "It's great having you back in this house. Come in," she said, pulling me inside and closing the door behind me. "Your father and sisters are waiting." She led the way, and I followed.

While we made our way through the foyer, I wiped the area she kissed and saw the red stain on my palm. My mother's blonde head bobbed with each step she took.

         Mothers.

I finally took in the house I grew up in but hadn't seen in months. I looked up at the high ceiling above our heads, and my gaze moved around the large space surrounding me. I grew up in this place, but now that I was in it again, it felt foreign. I had gotten accustomed to my small apartment. Even though my apartment was a lot more luxurious than most, it was no where close to this house.

Ten bedrooms. Twelve bathrooms. A front lawn and backyard the size of a mini-maze. The overly long driveway. The gated entrance.

        Did we need all of this?

Did a household of five, now four, need all this space? I never thought of this while I lived here, but now that I was on my own, trying to make up for my missed rent and find a way to pay bills, that was all that consumed my mind.

While I struggled to find means to keep my little apartment, my family lounged in this humongous house with comfort and ease.

I wouldn't want it any other way.

While this house was large enough to sustain many people, I always felt suffocated and closed-in whenever I was here. My apartment was smaller, but it was freeing.

Once my mother brought us to a stop at the dining area, my breathing halted momentarily. Here we go. I didn't miss the too bright chandelier hanging over our heads or the overly long table that seemed to stretch for miles. I didn't even miss the beautiful set of fine china displayed near the dining table that my mother was so proud of.

I certainly didn't miss the brown-haired man with lines along his mouth due to age and years of frowning—specifically at me. The man who watched me with one hand in his pocket as he stood at the head of the table.

Before I could say anything, my sisters threw themselves into my arms.

"Darian!" they shouted, hugging me as if their life depended on it.

I chuckled as I wrapped my arms around them. Eva was the first to pull back while River held me a little longer. "You should take us to the mall again," River said, practically jumping up and down. "I want some sweet pretzels."

When I was younger, I was nowhere as enthusiastic as she was. I liked seeing her this way. "You should, Darian," Eva said. "I need a new pair of shoes for the winter formal."

I fake-shuddered. I certainly didn't miss all those stupid dances from high school. The attire required wasn't my style.

I glanced around my family, and as I expected, they were all dressed to their best. Both my sisters wore formal dresses, similar to the ones they wore for church. My mother was in her business dress while my father wore dress pants and an undershirt topped with a vest.

I was surprised he wasn't in his usual business suit.

When I was back home, we dressed regularly for dinner, but since this was a "special dinner," I knew to dress up, but even though I tried, I was still under-dressed.

         Great.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Darian," my father said.

I was thirty minutes late.

I tried to be on time though.

"Okay!" My mother clapped her hands together. "Let's take a seat."

We sat down with both my parents at the ends of the table while my sisters and I sat on the sides. My sisters sat together in front of me while I sat by myself. That was how it always was even when I lived here.

I sat alone.

Like usual, we all had a plate and silverware with napkins in front of us. Food was already on the plate, and we were having chicken and potatoes with string beans. My parents had a glass of wine beside them, and my sisters and I had juice.

Where the water at?

When I ate, I got thirsty, and juice never cut it. I bet wine wasn't going to do shit for my parents' thirst either. I didn't know why they did this fancy shit.

I looked around but didn't see an ounce of water anywhere. I guess no water tonight.

My parents and sisters placed their napkins over their suit/dresses and on their laps. If food got on me, I was fine with that. That was what the washer was for. I grabbed my fork, ignoring my knife. My fingers would do the trick.

I started digging in immediately, and my father barked, "Darian!" I looked up with a piece of chicken hanging from my mouth. My father sent me a scornful look.

"Honey, we have to say grace," my mother informed me while Eva and River snickered on the side.

Before every dinner, my family said grace. I sat up, chewing my chicken while putting my fork down. "You guys know I'm irreligious." My sisters looked away, and my mother's face fell. I didn't even want to see my father's reaction. "I'll wait while you four say grace though." I smiled at them, finally catching my father watching me.

He took in a breath. "Do you have to be the complete opposite of everything we are?"

"What?" I was taken aback.

"You heard me," my father said. "First, you're a Liberal and a Democrat. Now, you're irreligious?"

"I've been irreligious since sophomore year. You guys knew that. You were in denial—you're still in denial—but I told you."

        My parents' reaction to me being irreligious was a glimpse into how they would react if they knew I was gay.

        It wasn't a comforting experience.

"Why must you antagonize us in everything?" His expression morphed into a frown.

"I'm not trying to antagonize anyone." I returned his glare.

"Let's say grace," my mother intervened. "Darian doesn't have to participate, but we are going to say grace." Her voice wavered at the end.

My father and sisters closed their eyes and clasped their hands together while my mother said grace. I patiently waited for them. I wasn't a religious guy, and I wasn't going to pretend to be one—not even for my family.

        When they were done, we dug into our meal.

The past couple weeks, I had gotten so accustomed to eating Kenji's food, that it felt weird eating my families'. My family weren't bad cooks, they just used significantly less spices than what Kenji used when he cooked Japanese meals.

My mouth watered at the thought of his cooking. It was so good.

        This would have to do for now though.

        I continued eating while my family talked.

"How's freshman year of high school going so far, River?" my father asked as he cut his chicken into segments before grabbing a piece with his fork and eating it. "Is everything going well?"

I bet this was the first time he was asking her about school. My father was a busy man, after all.

"Yup!" River smiled. "My grades are good, and all my teachers love me."

"That's great, sweetheart," my mother said while flashing River a reassuring smile.

"How do you know they love you?" I asked, putting a piece of potato into my mouth. "Do you read their minds? They could be fake as hell."

"Darian!" my mother scolded. Eva started cracking up while River pouted. "Don't say that to your sister."

I winked at River. "I'm messing with you, Riv." She nodded slowly, her pout still in place.

I was actually being serious, but her defeated expression did it for me. I was being a hater, in all honesty. Both my sisters were great in school. Their grades were on point. Their teachers liked them. They were heavily involved in extracurriculars. They were everything I wasn't.

I stuffed a forkful of string beans into my mouth.

"I'm just glad to be out of middle school." River sat up with a bright smile. "High school is so much better."

Eva shook her head. "You say that now. Wait until junior year."

"Been there," I confirmed.

Eva nodded. "The only thing I'll miss are the dances."

"Speaking of the dances, who are you taking to the winter formal again?" my mother asked her.

"Benedict Cooper."

I cocked a brow at my sister. "Benedict Cooper? What kind of name is that? What is he? A prince from nineteenth century England?"

Eva squinted her eyes at me. "He's really nice, and he's American." Eva always dated the preppiest guys, and Benedict Cooper sounded preppy. "He even knitted me a scarf."

"The fuck?" I said without thinking, and both of my parents' heads snapped in my direction.

"Darian," my father said, "watch your language. Not at the table."

        Shit. I was so used to cursing without a filter now that I moved out that I forgot I was with my family.

"You can't really watch your language, now can you?" My father placed his knife and fork down as I spoke. "When you speak it, you can't really see it."

"Stop," my mother warned. "Both of you."

I knew I was being a smartass, but I continued eating as if nothing happened. I didn't speak again after my little slip-up, so while my family chatted back and forth, I focused on eating.

I was the first to finish my meal.

My mother and sisters stared at me with wide eyes. "Goodness." My mother looked to my sisters whose expressions matched hers. "Did you like it?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "It was a'ight. You're getting there, Mom," I joked, and my mother laughed.

"Why do you talk like that?" my father asked, gathering all attention at the table. "A'ight. My boys," he imitated me. "You use all this slang, but we didn't raise you that way." I tilted my head to the side as I listened to him. "I should have known this would happen when you started getting into that rap and hip-hop nonsense. Don't get me started on those buffoons you associate yourself with. Gavin and Aaron?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. He didn't have to bring my boys into this.

"This may come as a shocker to you, Dad, but,"—I gasped—, "people are different." My father sent me a blank look. "People talk different. People look different. People act different."

"Look at that." My father motioned to me while looking to my mother. "Talk different?" His gaze returned to me. "It's speak differently."

"You just missed my whole point," I said. "Not everyone is like you, Dad, and that goes for me, too. You're a Conservative and a Republican. I'm not. You're religious. I'm not. You speak a certain way, and I speak my way. I'm your son, but I'm not you."

Silence fell over the table as my father and I stared at each other. I wasn't backing down because he needed to hear this.

"Can we please eat in peace?" my mother broke the silence. "Like a regular family?"

        Regular families didn't dress this way for dinner when there was no guest to impress.

"I'm done." I motioned to my empty plate.

"Then let's return to the original topic of conversation," my mother said. "Where were we?"

"We were discussing Darian's monstrous eating habits," Eva answered. I sent her a scowl, and she poked her tongue at me.

"Yes," my mother said before turning to me. "Have you eaten this past week, Darian? You always bothered me about the food not having 'enough flavor,' but here you are devouring it."

"I have been eating actually." I didn't finish fast because I was hungry—Kenji took care of that. I finished fast because eating kept me from talking.

Shit like what happened earlier had a tendency to occur when I spoke in this house.

My father's eyes were still on me. "It's kind of difficult to eat when you don't have a job to buy food, now isn't it?" My father continued eating his potatoes as if he didn't just try my life.

        He was right, but him being the one to say it pissed me off.

"Samuel," my mother said, sending him a look. "I'm sure he is searching for work, am I right, Darian?"

"Right." I stared at my plate. "I applied for a job at a gas station Arya's uncle owns."

"That's great, honey," my mother said.

"He wouldn't have to search for a new job if he just kept his old one," my father reminded, adding more fuel to my anger.

"Well," I said, "I'm glad I left Shirley Shakes."

"You didn't leave Shirley Shakes; you got fired," he pointed out.

I threw the napkin onto the table. "Fine. I'm glad I got fired."

"You're glad you disgraced yourself and this family?" my father asked.

"Darian. Samuel. Please stop this." My father and I ignored my mother, and we glared at each other.

"You have so many opportunities, Darian," my father said. "Opportunities people would kill for. You have the Ansel name. We have the expenses to send you to the best universities in the nation. We have the connections to get you the best jobs—even in the government. Your mother and I have paved a path for all of you."

"I don't want a government job," I said.

"If you're not going to go to college or even hold down a job, at least join the military."

My father was a part of the U.S. Air Force before marrying my mother. Again, I wasn't my father. "Not interested."

"That's your problem," he said. "You have good prospects, and you waste them!" My father's voice rose, veins popping along his forehead. "You could be something great, like your sisters are going to be something great, but no. You run around acting like a hooligan with your boys, not exploring your full potential. Tainting our family name—our legacy. You're being useless, Darian."

"If I'm so useless than why am I here?!" I stood up from my seat.

"Darian, please sit," my mother sighed, rubbing her forehead.

I ignored her.

        "Ask your mother," my father said. "I told you I'm done with you. Nothing was important enough to get fired over."

"Even a customer being an asshole?"

"A lot of customers are assholes!" my father yelled, standing up as well and keeping his hands on the table. "You get over it, and you keep your job."

"I couldn't just do nothing."

"Why not?"

"It was a personal attack. I couldn't ignore that."

"Well, you're going to keep getting fired then," my father said. "In the real world—in the working world—you're bound to get attacked. You'll meet an assortment of characters. You'll be tested on every level, in every way, but you adapt. You keep your dignity and your composure." My jaw tightened. "Whatever it was that customer did, get over it. Whatever way he insulted you, it's irrelevant." I balled up my fists. "You keep. Your. Damn. Job." My father leaned closer to me with each word.

"Fuck my job!" I threw my arms up.

"Darian!" My mother yelled while my sisters watched silently. "Stop this now! Both of you."

"No!" I said to her before turning to my dad. "I can't ignore what he said. I'm sorry that I can't control my emotions and be a heartless Senator like you." My father's eyes widened, shocked at my words. "I'm sorry I can't be like Eva and River. Good grades. Probably going to a great college with a bright future ahead of them. I'm sorry I'm not like you. Religious and conservative with a track record including the military and a seat in the senate. That's not me. I'm not perfect, but I'm trying."

"You're not trying enough!" he hollered.

"I'm trying more than I've ever tried before."

"If this is your best than that's pathetic," he said.

I took a step back, and my lips parted. His words went straight through me. He didn't know anything. He didn't know how hard I was trying to get my shit together.

        How hard I was trying to survive without him.

        "You say these words, but I haven't seen any of the actions that prove them," he said. "All credibility you could have had, you've lost over the years. Now, it's up to you to prove yourself. Earn that credibility back. That's new territory for you, isn't it, Darian?" His eyes bored through mine. "Earning something." My throat constricted. "Do you have anything to say?" I couldn't speak. I couldn't even gulp, so I shook my head. "Okay." My father stood upright. "Now, you can leave."

"Samuel..." My mother stared at my father in disbelief, even I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You can leave now, Darian," he said. "Dinner is over."

"Dad," I said in a barely audible voice. My lips parted, but I couldn't get the words out.

"I know I'm being harsh," he said, and I snorted, crossing my arms, "but for almost nineteen years of your life, I was too easy on you. Now, I must right that wrong by putting my foot down. I have to let you go, so you can experience what it's like in the real world. A world without 'Daddy's resources,' as you call it. You may think you're changing, but you have a long way to go. You may hate me now, but you'll thank me later." I uncrossed my arms as the tightness in my throat got stronger. "Now, get out."

I took in a sharp inhale, and that look in my father's eyes confirmed it. I was on my own. I knew I was, but the finality of it didn't hit me until now.

"Samuel, please don't do this," my mother begged, staring at my father who only watched me.

"Get out!" he yelled, pointing ahead.     

His words hit me like a sword. He really was done with me. I fought back the hurt that washed over me because I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction of knowing he got to me.

"I guess I'm done with this house." I turned to walk out.

"Darian!" my mother called out to me, rising to her feet.

"Darian, don't go," Eva added, but I ignored them, even as they continued to shout my name. 

"This is for his own good," my father said, and those were the last words I heard before I zoned out, getting out of that house as fast as I could. 

As soon as I was shrouded in the night air, I inhaled deeply, feeling a wave of freedom. It felt so good to leave that house.

        I could finally breathe.

I practically jogged to my GMC and reversed out of the never-ending driveway in record time before taking off. I rolled down my windows, and I was going past a hundred once I hit the slightly deserted road near my parents' house.

        This was stupid. This was what high school Darian did. I was proving my father right, but I didn't care.

        What was the point in trying?

        The wind tousled hair, and I held the steering wheel in a deathly grip. The more I drove, the heavier my eyes felt, but I fought the feeling. I wasn't going to cry. Not over my dad. Not over anyone.

Not after Camila's death.

The thought of her made the heaviness in my eyes stronger.

If Camila were here, I would be heading to her house right now. I could talk to her. Pour my heart out about everything. She would be there—the way my boys couldn't.

But Camila wasn't here. My fists paled from the grip I had on the wheel. Camila wasn't here anymore.

        There was only one other person who could see me in this state.

I reached for my phone and dialed his number, putting it on speaker and resting the phone on the passenger seat.

"Hello?" he answered, and my shoulders relaxed at the sound of his voice. "Darian?"

"Kenji," I said, loosening my grip on the wheel, but my speed didn't diminish. "Get ready. I'm picking you up in ten."

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* This chapter was a lot longer than I expected, so I'll stop for now and post the third part later.

* What do you guys think about life at the Ansels' house? Does this chapter give more insight into Darian's home situation and his daddy issues? What do you think will happen with Danji in the next part?

* I feel like the gif above sums up Darian's feelings about being back home. 😂

* Also this chapter is dedicated to @Vote4Dbest! She was one of the first readers and one of the first people to give this book a chance all the way back when it had the very first cover, and she's still supporting Loving a Goon now. Thank you so much, and I really appreciate having you as a reader. (P.S. your comments are really interesting and not predictable at all lol)😊

* I'm excited for the next part! Are you?