I remember clearly how worried I was the next day when mom told me he didn't come home.

"This is all your fault!" I yelled, anger fuming inside me.

"Of course," she replied, throwing her hands in the air. "Everything is my fault."

"Can't you see how much more trouble you're putting on his plate?"

"I wasn't the one who made him buy me a guitar."

"You never had to ask for anything! He always gets you whatever he feels like you might want without you asking him, that's the kind of man he is!"

My mom had been acting strange. She's been nagging my dad all week, and yesterday, she pushed it too much.

"Taehyung-ah... why do you always make me the villain?"

"You're always complaining, like aren't you even worried about him right now! He hasn't been home all night, Eomma! This never happened before."

"I don't think I forbade him from coming! He's probably with some hoe."

I clenched my teeth and fist, closing my eyes tightly. I have never felt that much anger in my entire life. I felt like my vessels would explode and every single cell in my body flared with anger. I was scared of hurting her on the spot. And just as I was about to say something, a knock on the door stopped me.

I glared at my mom before answereing the door, with her behind me, trying to see who visited.

Mom's gasp showed that I wasn't the only one who was shocked. Looking at us awkwardly by the door, was my dad's colleague, carrying my sleeping dad on his back. I had never seen my dad in that condition, with his hair all over the place and his shirt dirty and tattered.

"He had too much to drink," the man explained. "He'll have a terrible hangover once he wakes up."

"Help him," mom ordered.

Realising that I was not doing anything, I bowed once then tried to carry my dad, but I couldn't.

"I'll carry him to his room."

"Thank you," I replied before leading him to the room.

He slowly placed dad on the mattress and gave me a warm smile.

Joining his hands together, the man gave a sigh, looking around the room.

"Thank you so much, please stay for a cup of tea," mom offered.

"Thank you, but I'm late for work," he declined.

I trailed behind him to open the door.

"Thank you again," I repeated, bowing once.

"Any time, he's like a brother to me. And he'll have a terrible hangover for sure, so make him something blunt for later."

Nodding, I gave him a smile.

I kept the man's words in mind, but wished what he said was true later on. It wasn't a hangover. Dad couldn't even open his eyes, let alone eat something. Mom and I didn't know what to do, and even if we did, we didn't have the means.