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Lorien was never the type of person to talk about his emotions. Never was and never will be. Well, he couldn't say never anymore. For the first time in a while, he had felt the weight lift off his shoulders. After he had talked to his dad about everything it seemed that everything stopped and the world stood still. He didn't feel like he was burdened by what he was going through anymore. The talk was what he needed. But then again, he still had to confront the problem at hand. The problem that given birth to him. His mother.

She had always been a stubborn and headstrong woman not backing down from an argument or a conversation so easily no matter what the topic was about. For the most part, he didn't understand her. He never had in his 25 years of life. What was her mindset? Why did she do the things she does? How can she argue back-and-forth with her kids like this? It was all just too many questions that his brain was trying to answer, and yet it came up short of nothing.

He loved his mom. He really did, but the constant arguments were taking a toll on his well-being. It was just too much for him. And he knew that spending Christmas with her would be nothing but arguments, more tension.

If he was being honest with himself, he was trying his best to avoid going to Scotland this year. Avoid the stress. Avoid her. Scotland and his mom wasn't what he needed right now. He felt bad about not wanting to go, but at the same time he didn't.

Lorien sat on the bed with his hands in his hair. On his phone were the messages he had been sending his mom for the past hour or so.

"I don't think I'll be able to make it this year. Sorry." The message was simple and straightforward, and yet his mother was already making a big deal out of it. "And why not Lorien?"

She knew why. She always knew why. She just liked making it difficult. It was like she thrived on finding new ways to make him feel guilty. Lorien stared at her message, his jaw tightening. He fucking knew she got it, and yet she still pushed.

"When did our relationship get like this?" He muttered to himself, tossing his phone onto the bed. The constant pull and push dynamic they shared, it was exhausting. It wasn't good for either of them, and deep down, he knew that.

Lorien couldn't help but laugh. He was still fucking trying, and it wasn't worth his time. Why couldn't he fucking see that? Because it was too much for him. It was almost laughable at this point. He was about to give up on his relationship with his mom. Deep down somewhere in his body, he was sad about it, but on the surface, he couldn't help but feel somewhat lighter about it.

He sighed, looking around the room. His childhood photos lined the walls, and all his toys and action figures were put up on the shelves just like he left them. He had come back to his dad's after everything. Lorien ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the familiar tension in his shoulders as he stared at the photos on the walls. The room, unchanged since he left for Korea, felt like a relic from a past life—a life that seemed so far removed from everything he had built for himself now.

For the past few days, it had been the same routine. His dad and sister had welcomed him back, making the apartment feel warmer than it had in years. Yari, with her wide eyes and smile, was like a constant reminder that his family was evolving in ways he hadn't expected. It was strange but comforting. And yet, the phone calls from his mom had continued. He had ignored them for the most part, but now, in the quiet of his old bedroom, he couldn't avoid it any longer.

The phone rang again, the same cold ringtone blaring through the silence of the apartment. Lorien's stomach churned. He could already hear her voice in his head—the frustration, the expectation, the guilt. Maybe it was time to stop running. Maybe it was time to finally get it over with.

With a deep breath, he picked up the phone.

"Lorien," his mother's voice was sharp, the sound of it hitting him like a slap. "I've been trying to reach you. Where the hell are you? Why aren't you coming to Scotland for Christmas?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. This wasn't the conversation he wanted to have, but it was the conversation they needed to have.

"Mom, I'm not coming this year," he said, his voice low but firm. "I'm staying here with Dad. I'm done with the back-and-forth. I can't keep doing this."

Her response was immediate, laced with disbelief and anger. "What do you mean, 'done'? You can't just—this is family, Lorien. You're supposed to be here with me. I've been planning everything for you to come—do you even care about that?"

He could feel his pulse quickening, the familiar frustration bubbling up. "It's not about you, Mom. It's never been about me. It's always been about what you want, what you expect from me. I'm not your fucking puppet anymore. I'm tired of being dragged around by your guilt and your expectations."

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Lorien thought she might finally get it. But then she spoke, her voice trembling, trying to hold on to whatever control she had left. "You're just like your father, you know that? You push me away every chance you get. You've always been distant. I don't know how I'm supposed to handle this. You're my son. I've done everything for you. Why can't you just come home?"

Lorien's breath hitched in his chest, but this time, he wasn't backing down. "Stop! Just stop and listen for once. Please."

He paced back and forth in his old bedroom, his hand gripping the phone as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality. He had been through this cycle so many times before, but something in him had snapped tonight. "I'm done. I'm done letting you decide who I can be, where I be, who I get to spend the holidays with. I'm a grown man. But yet I'm still worried about my mom ruining my life just because she can't handle me not being there for the holidays, especially when she can't see what she's doing to me. To my well-being."

"Have you ever considered that I am the way I am because of how you and my grandparents talked around me as a child? Funny thing is I know that my grandparents hate the way I talk because I'm so blunt and too honest to be a real Korean. And whose fault is that. It's yours and theirs. The fact that you guys talked down about my dad in front of me as a child. Which way did you think I would side with? You and them or my dad who had been nothing but the most kindest man to not only me, but you and them."

Lorien's chest rose and fell rapidly as the words spilled out, each one sharper than the last. He had rehearsed this moment in his mind countless times, but now that it was here, the relief was overwhelming.

"You wonder why I don't come to Scotland, why I don't want to be around you? It's because every time I do, I'm reminded of all the things you and your parents said behind my back. All the things you didn't think I was old enough to understand. But I was, mom. I was always listening, always absorbing the hurtful things. And you never once tried to understand me, not really."

The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening. For the first time in their history of arguments, Lorien didn't feel the urge to fill the space with words. He let the silence stretch, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for her response.

But it didn't come. Not at first.

Finally, his mother's voice came, small and weak. "I didn't mean for you to hear those things, Lorien. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Lorien's voice was a mixture of disbelief and frustration. "By keeping me in the dark? By pitting me against my father?" He let out a bitter laugh, his fingers tightening around the phone as if he could crush the words from it. "I didn't need your protection, mom. I just needed you to be honest with me. I just needed you to stop trying to control me, to stop trying to make me fit into your perfect little world that I never belonged in."

His mom fell quiet again, but this time, Lorien wasn't waiting for an apology. He wasn't waiting for her to make things right. He had spent too many years hoping for that, and now he realized it would never come. He didn't want it anymore.

"I don't want to be part of your life if this is what it's going to be. I'm done," he said, each word weighted with finality. "I need space. I need distance. I need to live my life for me. And if that means cutting you out of it, then so be it."

Lorien took a deep breath, the air feeling heavier in his lungs than it had in years. He had just let go of something, something that had been weighing him down for far too long. He wasn't asking for her approval anymore. He wasn't waiting for her to change. He was done. "Goodbye, mom." With that, he ended the call.

The room around him seemed to breathe with him, and for the first time in ages, Lorien felt like he could finally exhale. The weight that had been on his chest for years, from all the expectations, the guilt, the hurt, was finally lifting.

Lorien collapsed onto the bed, his body shaking from the release. He wasn't sure what the future held, but in that moment, he knew one thing: he wasn't going to let anyone, not even his mother, dictate who he was or where he went anymore.

He had come to New York to find peace, and for the first time in a long time, it was within reach. Lorien barely had time to finish processing his own emotions when his phone rang again. He glanced at the screen, seeing Kian's name flash across it. He hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. Kian had always been the one to try and make things right between him and their mother, but this time felt different.

With a sigh, Lorien answered. "Hey."

"Lorien," Kian's voice was sharp, an edge of frustration threading through his words. "What the hell is going on? Mom just called me crying her eyes out. She said you're not coming to Scotland this year, and you didn't even tell me. Why didn't you tell me?"

Lorien felt the pressure in his chest tighten, the weight of his brother's words crashing down on him. He ran a hand over his face, trying to hold on to the calm he'd just started to find. "I'm not coming to Scotland, Kian. I'm done."

"You can't be serious," Kian responded, his voice rising. "She's your mother, Lorien. You can't just—"

"I'm not coming to Scotland because I can't keep doing this, Kian," Lorien cut him off, his voice colder now. "I can't keep letting her dictate everything in my life just because she can't handle me living my own way. Every time I try to make a decision for myself, she makes it all about her. I'm done. I'm done trying."

There was silence on the other end of the line, a long pause that made Lorien's insides twist. Finally, Kian spoke, his voice quieter now, though tinged with disbelief. "But this is... this is Mom, Lorien. I know she's hard, but she's still—"

"She's toxic, Kian," Lorien said, cutting in again. The words felt heavy on his tongue, but he knew they were true. "I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not. I'm not going to Scotland this year. And I'm not going to pretend like I'm still okay with her controlling everything in my life just because she's my mom. I'm choosing to be with Dad and Yari this year."

Another silence followed. Lorien braced himself for Kian's anger, but it never came. Instead, his brother let out a long breath.

"I... I get it," Kian finally said, his tone softening. "I get it, Lorien. I've known for a while that you needed to do this. I guess I just—" Kian paused, gathering his thoughts. "I guess I just thought there was still a chance for things to get better with her. But you're right. You've been carrying this for too long. If this is what you need, then... I'm not going to stop you."

Lorien leaned back against the wall, feeling something shift inside of him, a weight lifting. He had expected a fight. He had expected Kian to argue with him, to try to make him feel guilty. But instead, his brother was showing him understanding, the kind of support he never thought he would get from him when it came to their mom.

"Thanks, Kian," Lorien said, his voice breaking just a little despite his attempts to keep it steady. "I didn't want to let her down. But I can't keep living for her."

The silence between them stretched a little longer, but this time it felt more comfortable. The conversation had taken its toll, but Lorien felt lighter now, as if a part of the weight he'd been carrying had been shared.

As the moment passed, something else occurred to him, something he had been meaning to say. His eyes lingered on the calendar, the date flashing before him like an afterthought.

"Hey, Kian," Lorien said, his voice a little quieter now, hesitant but warm. "It's your birthday today... I didn't want to let the day go by without telling you."

There was a brief pause before Kian responded, his tone softening slightly. "You remember, huh?" he said with a bit of amusement.

"Of course I remember," Lorien replied with a small, tired smile. "Happy birthday, Kian. I wish I could be there with you to celebrate."

Kian's chuckle came through the phone, a sound that made Lorien's heart swell just a little. "Nah, don't worry about it. I wasn't planning on celebrating anyway," he said lightly, the words carrying the familiar nonchalance Kian always wore when it came to his birthday. "You know how it is—Christmas Day always steals the spotlight."

Lorien smiled faintly, the relief settling in. "I know. But still... I wish I could've been there. It's always been a tradition for us, even if it's small."

"It's all good, Lorien," Kian reassured him, his voice warm but casual. "Don't worry about it. You've got your own things going on, I get it. Just take care of yourself. That's all I need."

Lorien's chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the tension from earlier. For a moment, he wished things could be different. That Kian's birthday could've been celebrated properly, that he could be there to share it with him. But he had made his choice, and part of him knew it was the right one.

"Thanks, Kian," he said softly, his voice steady. "You always know what to say. I'm lucky to have you." Kian's voice was teasing now, but there was warmth beneath it. "Of course you are. But really, just make sure you're okay, okay? That's all I want."

Lorien nodded, even though Kian couldn't see him. "Yeah. I will."

"Good. Now go enjoy the time with Dad and Yari. You deserve it." Lorien felt his heart warm at the thought of being with his dad and Yari. For the first time in a long time, it felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. "Yeah," he said, his voice carrying a sense of finality. "I will."

The call ended, and Lorien was left alone with his thoughts, feeling more at peace than he had in a long time. Lorien let out a shaky breath, the phone still warm in his hand. He'd told Kian what he needed to, and now it was just... quiet. For the first time in what felt like forever, the silence didn't feel suffocating.

It wasn't just about the argument or the call with his mom. This was about everything. Ballet. Opera. His grandparents. Everything she had forced on him, everything she had taken away. Lorien's chest tightened at the thought of his grandparents. He hadn't spoken to them in years—not because his mom had made it impossible, but because he had cut them off. After all the shit they said about his dad, about him—it had been the only way to protect himself.

Their judgmental whispers, the way they treated his dad like he wasn't even human, like he was some sort of failure for not fitting their mold. His mom had never stood up for him, never stood up for his dad. Worse, she'd often agreed with their views.

Every step of his life had been shaped by her. Ballet at six because she thought it would make him "disciplined." Opera lessons at ten because she wanted him to "stand out." Every decision had been hers. He had complied because he didn't know any better. Because he wanted her approval, even if it was fleeting.

But now? He didn't need that anymore. He didn't need her constant control, her guilt-tripping, her manipulation. And he certainly didn't need them, either. He'd cut them out of his life years ago, and he wasn't about to go back to that.

"Call me a bad son or whatever," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "But this... this is what I need."

He stared at the childhood photos on the wall, his younger self staring back at him. A boy who had tried so hard to make his mom proud. A boy who had learned too late that no matter what he did, it would never be enough.

"This isn't about you anymore," he whispered, as if speaking to his younger self. "It's about me now." Lorien took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. "Cheers to new traditions," he said softly to himself, stepping out of the room and toward the life he was finally ready to claim as his own.