#and hate the guy (my mother) who taught me to ignore every bad feeling ive ever felt and 'focus on the good things'

[greededling]

girl accidentally shows emotion that isnt quirky or cute and has to accept that she is loved despite not presenting as a polished acceptable version of herself every waking second of the day ✌️

[inyournightmares97]

hello!! ive been busy lately and ive missed reading your stuff! could i request 87 and 99 for the drabble challenge w brian please! thanks so much and have a good day! xx

YoungK + “Are you five” + “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

(Childhood Enemies!au)

Oh, how passionately you hated Brian Kang.

Brian, your next-door neighbor who had been trying to get people to call him YoungK since he was seven years old, but had yet to succeed three years later because everybody everywhere unanimously called him Brian. Even his so-called best friend, Sungjin, had long ceased using the nickname. But your hatred for Brian didn’t stem from his poor name-picking skills. It was a much older feud, one with a long, bloody history and that went back many years…

Well. Six years to be exact. Brian had moved into the house next door on the day you turned 4 years old, and while your mother had only invited him to come play with the other kids out of politeness, he’d ruined what was meant to be the best birthday party ever.

“Who ate all the cake before I could even blow my candles?”

Of course, the culprit had been caught too easily because Brian had pink Barbie-cake frosting all over his hands and mouth while he chattered happily with your older brother, Jae. You had a sneaking suspicion that Jae had been the one who told Brian it was okay to eat the cake but it had been his pudgy little hands and uncontrollable tongue that had ruined your special Barbie-themed birthday party.

And thus began what would be six years of hell.

Brian was generally a nice guy and most of the kids around the block liked him well enough. He let the other boys borrow his nice bike and sometimes helped some of the girls climb trees. But Brian held grudges for a long time and he never forgot how you humiliated him and made him cry for eating your cake at his birthday party. So he began his mission to make your life hell.

When you both started the first grade together, he somehow convinced the other kids in your class that you’d pooped your pants. None of them came near you and you spent most of that year without any friends but with the occasional taunts from Brian. Nothing particularly creative, mind you, just the standard you’re ugly, and you’re stupid and the worst one, are you five? That last one hurt the most but no matter what Brian stupid Kang said, you were not five, you were six and a half years old, so he could suck it.

When you reached the second grade, you realized that something had to change. You were not one to be let yourself be stepped all over, so you began to hold your own. On the first day of school, you told all of your new classmates that Brian had eaten your Barbie cake and that he secretly liked Barbies. While it didn’t cause his friends to abandon him completely, he still endured an entire year worth of teasing from his male friends. By the time you both reached third grade, it had become an all-out war and everybody knew about it.

Your mother had forced you to invite him to your birthday party again, so he’d made you a card with an enormous turd drawn on the front and with the words ‘Poopy-head’ written on it. You were unimpressed as he handed you the card with pleased sniggers,

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” you asked sarcastically, tossing the card aside while you frowned at him. Your older brother Jae had already taught you all the bad words that you needed to know and Brian’s limited vocabulary was unimpressive. “Ugh, how do you not even know any actual bad words?”

Brian frowned. “I do too!”

“Oh, really? Then what’s the baddest word of all time? Huh? Tell me, tell me.”

Brian’s face turned red. “I bet you don’t know either!”

“I do know!” you announced triumphantly, lowering you voice and whispering. “It’s fuck.”

Brian gasped. “I’m telling your mother you said that!”

And hence Brian Kang also ruined your 8th birthday party, by getting you into trouble with your mother and banned from watching television for two weeks. (She might have been more lenient if she knew that you’d learned the word from Jae, and not from the television, but you weren’t a tattle-tale like poopy-headed Brian).

Throughout all the time that Brian had annoyed you and teased you (and you’d admittedly teased him back) you’d developed a passionate mutual hatred for the boy that took up an unusually large share of your time and energy. But it wasn’t until you both finally entered middle school that Brian finally crossed the line and made you actually cry.

It was Valentine’s Day on the first day of middle school, and you’d gotten exactly thirty-two Valentine’s Day cards. Your female friends had been overly generous that year, but you were one of the few girls who actually got Valentine’s cards from some of the boys because you’d joined the middle school basketball team that year and most of the boys in your class were just transitioning from the girls-have-cooties, to the girls-are-cute stage, so you had a little attention on you. Brian had joined the basketball team as well, at the insistence of his best friend Sungjin, and so he was present when most of the team members came up to you and handed you Valentine’s Day cards shyly.

It was on the bus ride home that the crime occurred.

“What’s so great about Valentine’s Day cards,” Brian asked snootily. He was sitting in the seat in front of you. You both sat near the front because as much as you hated each other, you were both too scared to sit near the older kids at the back of the bus. Brian was talking to Sungjin loudly, knowing you could hear him. “I think counting how many Valentine’s Day cards you got it stupid, most people just hand them around even to those they don’t like.”

You were annoyed. Who was he to burst your bubble. “How many did you get, Brian?” you demanded.

Brian glared at you. “I don’t know, I didn’t bother counting.”

“Yes, you did!” Sungjin piped up, turning back to give you a pleasant smile. “He told me that he got eight.”

“Shut up!” Brian hissed.

You beamed, understanding why Brian was being so annoying. He was just bitter that he hadn’t gotten a lot of Valentine’s Day cards. To be fair, you knew a couple of girls in your class that thought Brian was cute but none of them had the guts to actually go up to him and give him a card. All the same, the fact remained that you’d gotten a lot more than him and you couldn’t wait to rub it in. You reached into your backpack and pulled out the stack of cards you’d received that day, holding them in front of Brian’s face.

“I got 32,” you said proudly. “Want to see?”

“No,” Brian snapped.

You ignored him. “Look, let me show you who gave me a card. This one’s from Mina, this one’s from Hyojin, this one’s from Eunji-sunbae, this one’s from Jackson from basketball-”

Brian flinched. “Jackson gave you a card?”

“Yup! A lot of the guys from basketball did. Here- Jackson gave me one, so did Mark, so did Jaebum… oh! And this one’s from Sungjin!”

Brian turned his eyes sharply to his best friend. “You gave her a card? Why?”

Sungjin looked lost. “She’s our friend…?”

“No, she’s not! In fact, you know what I think of all your stupid little Valentine’s Day cards?” Brian demanded, snatching the whole stack out of your hands. Before you could speak, Brian had stuck his hands out of the bus window and dropped the entire bunch-all thirty-two cards- out of the window. You watched in absolute horror as all the cards given to you by your friends fluttered out of the window and flew into the air, some of them landing on the street, the sidewalk, and still others disappearing from sight.

You watched silently for a few moments, your hands covering your mouth in horror. Then you turned to Brian with a look of pure hatred, feeling your throat close up.

“I hate you,” you croaked out, leaning back in your seat and turning away from him so that he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

–

It was later that evening, while you were doing your homework, that your mother yelled for you to come out of your room. “Brian’s here to talk to you!” she called out. “Come downstairs!”

You went down to see Brian standing on your front porch, shifting uncomfortably between his feet. You glared at him, furious. You’d loved every single one of those Valentine’s Day cards and now you didn’t have any of them. Part of you wanted to punch him right in his pretty face but you held back, folding your arms across your chest and glaring at him.

“What?” you demanded.

Brian bit his lip and stared at the ground. “I’m sorry I threw your Valentine’s Daty cards out of the bus.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, Brian. You’re a jerk and I hate you, so why don’t you-”

“I know I shouldn’t have done that. You got all those cards because people like you, and people like you because you’re a nice person, so…” he trailed off, handing you a small bunch of cards. “You can have all eight of my cards. And… the one on top is from me.”

Before you could respond, he had turned around and rushed back to his own house, his cheeks pink and refusing to look you in the eyes. You looked down at the stack of cards in your hand. The eight cards at the bottom were addressed to Brian but the one on top was addressed to you. You opened the small pink card with a picture of a cartoon boy and girl holding hands and saw the printed message inside.

You’re cute! it read, and Brian had scribbled his name at the bottom. It was simple, nothing particularly touching or over-the-top or romantic.

But it was the nicest thing Brian Kang had ever done for you, and you hated him a little bit less that day.

–

A/N; Ahhhh, this one was so hard to write! I can’t even remotely imagine what Brian must have been like as a kid somehow, haha. @ijustwantacue​, I kept thinking of your Three Little Kings stories while writing this, hahaha.

[conditionbox]

everything i’ve always wanted to tell you

- you tell me to tell anything to you, and communicate about everything. though, you dont give me an environment to communicate in. you’re only respectful, accepting, and understanding to me whenever you agree with something i do, or whenever i agree with something you do. though, when i disagree with you and simply try to explain how i view a situation differently, you see it as arguing with you, you see it as disrespectful, you see it as me hating you, and you’re annoyed and you want me to shut up. so you raise your voice at me. and if i stay quiet, try not to say anything, and simply say “okay” so that i don’t make the situation worse, you see it as me giving you an attitude. and if i get on your level by also raising my voice, you see it as me giving you an attitude. and then when i try and tell you that you’re raising your voice at me and yelling at me, you see it as “i’m not raising my voice at all. you’re too sensitive.” i can’t communicate things at all if you’re not understanding towards me being a different person than you are. i can’t communicate things at all if you judge me for not being the perfect daughter that you want me to be. i can’t communicate things at all if you don’t give me an environment to communicate in.

- you speak for me. you don’t allow me to speak for myself. for example, when it comes to food, you say “ohhhh this is micah’s favorite food.” or with music, “ohhhhhh, this artist is micah’s favorite.” no. its not my favorite food and no that person is not my favorite artist. i am my own person. i speak for myself. for example, EVERY SINGLE TIME i go to the doctor’s office for an appointment, they hand me a clipboard with a bunch of things to write down and check off. this is what you do. when the paper asks me “who do you go to when you want to talk about something?” i say my best friends. you tell me to scribble that out and to put “my parents”. when the paper asks me “are you concerned about your weight?” i put yes. and you tell me to scribble it out and put no. when the paper asks me “do you believe you have a low self-esteem?” i say yes. you tell me to scribble it out and say no. do you see anything wrong with what you’re doing?

- do you say that to encourage me to do better or to just feel depressed? because 90% of the time, your speeches are more degrading and less encouraging.

- when i’m doing something wrong, teach me how to do it correctly. teach me. don’t punish me or get angry at me for doing it wrong, saying “you don’t know how to do anything”. i don’t know how to do anything because you. never. taught. me. don’t do the task yourself and take over and yell at me for not doing it. you decided to do it yourself. for example, when i wanted to water the front lawn. let me do it, and then teach me how to do it in the best way possible.

- do you believe mental abuse is just as bad as physical abuse? or do you think mental abuse is okay?

- i do the best i can until i know better. only when i know better, will i do better. SO TEACH ME HOW TO DO BETTER BECAUSE YOU ARE MY MOTHER. DONT PUNISH ME FOR NOT KNOWING HOW TO DO BETTER. i am doing the BEST I CAN. MOTHERS AREN’T ONLY MEANT TO PUNISH AND DISCIPLINE, MOTHERS ARE MEANT TO GUIDE AND TEACH.

- you just said “no parent will love their daughter that lounges around with their boyfriend all day.” this is wrong. all parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally, at all times, and forgive them for their wrongs. you just dont love me. you LOVE ME only when i am your PERFECT DAUGHTER. you DONT LOVE ME when i am a HUMAN.

- im so tired of trying to find commonground with someone who so desperately wants me to give up.

- you dont even realize how mentally abusive you are. you are the queen of lying to yourself. you are the queen of hypocrisy.

- i poured my HEART out to you. and all you did was ask me the day after “are you done being mad at me?” i wasn’t mad at you. i was EXHAUSTED of your ways of discipline. you see them as ETHICAL, but you know youve done something wrong when your daughter has suicidal thoughts because youve fucked up her head too much. im done. im so done. i cant argue with you anymore. i cant communicate with you anymore. you dont get it. you just dont fucking get it.

- ive realized that by the time i bring up all the things you say to me that just dont make sense, you claim that you never said them or that im rephrasing what you say to change the story. no. youre just used to putting yourself in a state of denial to make yourself feel better for the mental damage you didnt even realize you were causing

- have you ever though of why you think im a drama queen and always seeking attention? if you raise your child never acknowledging her efforts to improve herself and only acknowledging that what shes doing is still not good enough, that shes always been a burden, and that she has been nothing and will always be nothing her whole life, shes kinda going to be depleted of any self esteem, or validation that shes good enough for anyone. you see me as obsessed with cody? i see me as seeing cody as someone who actually helps me know what i deserve and tells me how much im worth, since my own mother tells me i am worth nothing to this world.

- i think we have different definitions for the word disrespect. you see the things i say as disrespectful to you and me trying to hurt you. i see the things i say as efforts to get you to open the eyes and reflect on whether the things you say or do are going to benefit her or not. i know you guys do so much for me in terms of paying for our education, giving us all this money, gadgets, and food to enjoy, and all of that. im so thankful for that. but, to me, all of that physical stuff doesnt really help you be happy, let alone help your own daughter be happy. to me, happiness starts with being internally healthy and having a clear state of mind. and its very hard for me to get those things when my own mother is telling me that i am a burden and that i have been nothing to this world since birth.

- your toxic trait is that you will say ANYTHING to win an argument, whether what you say is a lie, or didnt happen, or is the absolute worst thing a mother should say to her daughter, or anything else. youll say ANYTHING. SOMETIMES IT DOESNT MATTER WHOS RIGHT AND YOU NEED TO REALIZE THAT. SOMETIMES IT ONLY MATTERS HOW TO MOVE FORWARD AND YOU NEVER DO. YOU BRING UP MY MISTAKES OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN NO MATTER HOW MUCH IVE GROWN OR HOW OLD I AM OR HOW MUCH IVE LEARNED FROM MY MISTAKES.

- the reason why i dont open up to you is because you never “listen” like you said you would. you either make assumptions, invalidate my feelings, try and force me to feel feelings you want me to feel, don’t take me seriously because i’m too young, or all of the above.

- well im sorry that every single emotion, problem of mine, problem in the house, or anything else that i try to communicate is considered “teenage hormones.” the reason why i dont communicate is because all of the stress, anxiety, and depression in my life is caused by you. you say i can be open to communicate to you but you’re only open when it has nothing to do with you or doesnt hurt you whatsoever. IM NOT TRYING TO HURT YOU, IM TRYING TO GIVE YOU A RUDE AWAKENING TO HOW MUCH MENTAL DAMAGE IM GOING THROUGH BECAUSE EVERY TIME I GET LIKE THIS YOU NEVER TAKE ME SERIOUSLY, YOU LAUGH IN MY FACE, YOU THINK IM BEING TOO SENSITIVE, YOU SEE NO REASON FOR ME TO CRY, AND YOU TRY AND FORCE ME TO CHANGE HOW I FEEL AND DONT TAKE INTO CONSIDERATION THE FEELINGS I ACTUALLY FEEL.

- i can’t “just pray” anymore. i can’t hide things from my doctor anymore. i need therapy or medicine or something because i cant deal with the problems im thinking at night because you guys dont give me a support system or environment to communicate to at home.

- your ignorance is your downfall, not mine.

- its not having a tantrum, its not teenage hormones, its not me hating you. IT IS MY ATTEMPT TO COMMUNICATE

- https://www.instagram.com/tv/CGVJJEfjECW/?igshid=hsnu67whwpuj

- theres just so much for me to say. im done.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJX5xHEC/