DAMIR
I won't lie….when Eli stormed out of the dining room like that, right while I was still speaking, I felt… disrespected. Deeply disrespected.
It wasn't just about me being the man of the house or that I had commanded the attention of the room, it was about him. It was about the way he disregarded me so openly, so easily, without even a second thought.
But even as the anger flared in my chest, I reminded myself …. he was hurt, he was frustrated, he was a boy still learning how to handle emotions that ran too deep for his little chest to contain.
So, no I didn't really take it to heart.
Still, I needed to talk to him. Caution him. He needed to understand that some lines shouldn't be crossed, no matter how furious or heartbroken he was feeling.
I found him in his room, lying flat on his bed.
Not sleeping.
Not crying.
Just… staring blankly at the ceiling.
The sight squeezed something tight in my chest, but I steeled myself.
I leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, and said, "Why did you walk out while I was still speaking, Eli?"
My voice wasn't loud but it was sharp enough.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't even look at me.
"That was disrespectful," I added.
There was a short beat of silence.
Then, finally, Eli spoke. A small, empty, "I'm sorry."
Plain.
Emotionless.
Almost mechanical.
It only made the frustration inside me burn hotter.
That wasn't the apology I wanted.
I didn't know what I wanted, honestly. Maybe to see some remorse, some understanding… something real.
But instead, all I got was that hollow, tired "sorry," and I realized… maybe I wasn't even truly angry at Eli.
Maybe I was angry at everything.
At work, which had been an unrelenting storm of stress lately.
At Juseon, for dragging all his personal drama into my house.
At Lian, for lying and sparking chaos.
At myself, for somehow letting it all spiral this far.
The pressure was building inside me like a ticking bomb, and I needed to leave before I said something I'd regret.
Without another word, I turned sharply on my heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door harder than necessary.
I made my way to my study, my sanctuary, my last safe place, and threw myself into work, hoping the familiar rhythm of numbers and contracts would drown the mess of emotions boiling inside me.
For a while, it worked.
Sort of.
I lost track of time buried under paperwork, signatures, endless calls that frayed my already shredded patience.
Until I heard the soft creak of the study door opening.
I didn't even need to look up to know it was Eli.
His presence was… distinctive.
Delicate. Soft, yet somehow loud in my mind.
I expected him to curl up against me like he always did, resting his small body against mine, breathing calmly as he drifted off to sleep while I worked.
It was our quiet little ritual.
One of the only things that grounded me lately.
And true to form, he padded quietly across the room and reached for me trying to settle himself into the crook of my arm.
But for the first time…
I denied him.
I pulled away.
Not harshly, but firmly.
And I said, "Go back to your room, Eli."
The words tasted bitter on my tongue the moment they left my mouth.
I saw the way he froze.
The way his pretty mouth parted slightly, confusion flashing in his eyes like a wounded animal unsure why it was being pushed away.
He stood there, so small, so vulnerable.
"But…" he started softly, like he didn't quite believe I was rejecting him.
I clenched my fists under the desk.
"Please," I said, lower now. "I need some space tonight."
I could see it, the way those words crushed him, even though I didn't mean to.
His shoulders sagged.
He looked at the floor.
"Why…" his voice cracked a little, "Why is everybody rejecting me today?"
Shit.
That broke me more than anything else.
But I stayed firm, because I knew if I didn't, my stress would spill over onto him, and that was the last thing I wanted.
I had to protect him from my own anger.
"I'm just… tired, Eli," I said tightly. "I'm dealing with a lot. Please understand. It's not about you."
And with that, he turned, and stormed out slamming the door harder than I had earlier.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I sat back in my chair, running my hands over my face.
I hated this.
I hated that the one person who made this house feel like home was now angry and hurting because of me.
But I stayed put, trying to lose myself in work again.
Pretending it didn't matter.
Pretending the empty ache in my chest wasn't growing wider by the second.
I don't know how much time passed, maybe twenty minutes before the door creaked open again.
I didn't look up immediately.
I assumed he was just here to grab something and leave again.
But then I heard the scraping sound of a chair being dragged across the floor slow, deliberate.
I glanced up.
And there he was.
Eli.
Dragging the chair opposite me closer… closer… until it was pressed right against my side.
In one hand, he was clutching his giant bucket of ice cream, the one he only brought out when he was severely upset.
In the other, his thick, fluffy duvet trailed along the floor like a cape.
Without saying a word, he threw the duvet over both our legs, cocooning us in the soft warmth.
Then he plopped down in the chair, pulled his knees to his chest, and began eating his ice cream with slow, determined scoops.
I stared at him, stunned.
A reluctant smile twitched at the corner of my mouth.
The stubborn little thing.
Even when pushed away, he refused to stay gone.
Instead of confronting me with anger, he chose this silent company, shared comfort.
God, how did he always know exactly what I needed better than I knew myself?
As I worked, he kept nudging the spoon toward me, wordlessly offering bites of his ice cream.
At first I refused, but he pouted, that little exaggerated pout he knew I couldn't resist until I gave in and let him feed me.
The cold sweetness melted on my tongue, a stark contrast to the bitterness I'd been drowning in all night.
Between lazy spoonfuls and heavy yawns, Eli started mumbling small suggestions for my work…. funny, half-asleep ideas that somehow actually made sense.
"Maybe if you made the meeting earlier, they wouldn't be so grumpy," he mumbled once, spoon dangling from his lips.
I chuckled under my breath and jotted the idea down.
Minutes passed.
Hours, maybe.
I lost track again but this time, in a way that felt… safe.
Eventually, I realized Eli had stopped mumbling.
His head was drooping against the back of the chair, his chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths.
His bucket of ice cream rested precariously on his lap and there, on the corner of his mouth, was a small smear of melted cream.
I leaned forward, unable to help myself.
Softly, carefully, I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth and sucked the sweetness away, tasting the faint flavor of vanilla and something so uniquely him it made my heart ache.
I pulled back, looking at his peaceful sleeping face.
He was mumbling in his sleep barely audible but I caught some of it.
"I'm sorry, Damir…"
"I didn't mean to upset you…"
"I just wanted to stay close…"
Each whispered apology was like a knife and a balm at once.
God, how could I stay angry when he was like this?
Gently, I set the half-melted ice cream bucket aside and gathered him into my arms.
He stirred a little but didn't wake, instinctively curling closer to me.
I carried him back to his room, the duvet trailing behind us like a ribbon of clouds.
I laid him gently on his bed, tucking him in as he murmured soft apologies against the pillow.
I sat there for a long moment, just watching him.
Breathing him in.
Feeling something warm and whole spread through my chest.
Maybe the world was falling apart.
Maybe everything was chaos.
Maybe tomorrow would bring more fights, more confusion, more pain.
But right now…
Right now, it was just him and me.
And somehow, that made everything a little more bearable.
I brushed his hair back from his forehead, leaned down, and whispered against his skin:
"I'm not mad at you, Eli. Never at you."
And then, for the first time in what felt like days, I allowed myself to breathe…really breathe as I turned off the light and slipped quietly out of the room, leaving the door just a little ajar.
Just in case he needed me.
Always, just in case.