Glass Hearts [BL]-Chapter 259: The White Shirt [June’s POV]

I got home just as the sun was starting to set.

I pushed the door open slowly, careful not to let it creak. The house was quiet, and dark.

The curtains were drawn. The TV was off. No smell of coffee either. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Dad was probably still asleep.

Phew!

I slipped my shoes off and held them in my hand, tiptoeing towards the stairs, like the house might scold me if I moved too loudly.

"June."

I froze.

My stomach dropped.

Slowly, I turned around.

Dad was sitting on the couch, his back was slightly hunched, and his hands were resting on his knees.

The lamp beside him was off, but the early light coming through the curtains was enough for me to see his face.

He looked like he hadn’t slept throughout the night.

"Good morning, Dad," I said softly, like that might soften whatever was coming next.

I waited for the yelling.

The disappointment.

The lecture about disappearing for two days.

But he didn’t raise his voice.

He just sniffed.

That somehow hurt more.

"I’m sorry," I blurted out. "I didn’t mean to disappear. I just...things got messy and I wasn’t thinking and I know I scared you and.." I stopped talking.

He didn’t interrupt me.

Didn’t sigh. Didn’t even scold.

He just stayed quiet.

I walked over slowly and pulled the curtain aside. Light spilled into the room, landing right on his face.

And suddenly I really saw him.

The gray in his hair was more obvious now. The lines around his eyes were deeper. His hairline had crept back just a little more than the last time I noticed.

My dad was getting old.

And he was still working himself to the bone.

My chest tightened.

I sat down on the floor beside the couch and rested my head on his thigh, the way I used to when I was little.

For a second, he hesitated....then his hand came down, gently patting my hair.

The touch nearly broke me.

"Dad..." I started, then stopped. I didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.

My dad looked tired in a way sleep couldn’t fix.

My chest ached.

"You okay?" I asked instead. "You look... really tired."

He chuckled quietly. "I should be asking you that, honey."

"I mean it," I said, lifting my head. "You look... exhausted."

"I am," he admitted. "I just need to rest. I cleaned four houses yesterday."

Four?

My throat burned.

"I’m saving up," he continued quietly. "For your college."

I looked up at him. "Dad, you don’t have to work that hard."

He smiled, softly. "Yes, I do."

There was a pause.

"You still want to go to Gleewood, right?" he asked carefully.

"...Maybe."

His hand stopped in my hair.

"Maybe?" he repeated, sounding surprised. "You’ve talked about that school your whole life. What changed?"

I lifted my head and looked at him.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like... I don’t know who I am anymore. Or what I want. Everything feels confusing."

He listened without interrupting.

"There’s a talent show tomorrow," I continued. "I planned it for months. And now... I don’t even know if I want to perform."

For a moment, I braced myself for disappointment.

Instead, he smiled.

"Okay," he said.

"...Okay?" I blinked.

"Yes," he nodded. "That’s okay."

He leaned back slightly. "Let me ask you something important."

I sniffed. "What?"

"What shirt should I wear tomorrow? The blue one or the white one?"

I stared at him. "...Dad."

"Serious question."

"The white shirt," I said. "It makes your eyes sparkle."

He grinned.

"You see?" he said gently. "You’re still sure about things."

"That’s not the same..."

"It is," he interrupted gently. "You’ve always been sure about music. About singing. You love being on stage, June. You always have."

I shook my head. "Dad..."

"You have a gift," he continued. "When you sing, people feel things. You move them."

Then he smiled again, and his eyes softened.

"You remind me so much of your mom."

My chest tightened. "Please don’t.."

"Your mother used to sing in the kitchen," he said quietly. "She’d forget the whole world was listening. People would stop just to hear her."

My eyes burned.

"And you," he smiled again, "you’re even stronger than she was. You don’t just sound like an angel."

He cupped my cheek gently.

"You are one."

Tears spilled down my face.

He reached up and wiped one away with his thumb.

"I know you’re scared," he said softly. "But you don’t have to have everything figured out right now. You’re allowed to be unsure. You’re allowed to feel."

After a moment, he pulled back and smiled at me again.

"I’m getting older, sweetheart," he said softly. "And all I want more than anything, is to see you happy."

"I’ll try," I whispered. "I promise."

He kissed the top of my head. "That’s all I ask."

"Dad," I sniffed. "I love you so much."

"I love you more, sweetheart."

He patted my head again.

"Now go get ready for school," he said. "I’ll make breakfast."

I smiled through my tears, leaned up, and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks, Dad."

As I walked upstairs, my heart felt heavy, but steadier.

Like no matter how lost I felt...

I wasn’t alone.

Dad still loves me. And maybe I don’t need love from strangers to make feel whole.

I closed my bedroom door behind me and leaned my back against it for a second.

The room felt exactly the same....posters slightly crooked, my bed unmade, my desk cluttered with lyrics and tangled earphones.

I dropped my bag on the chair and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands.

They were still a little shaky.

Dad’s words replayed in my head.

I reached for my phone.

Then I unlocked it and opened Ren’s chat.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I typed.

Me:

Hey. I made up my mind.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Ren:

You’re killing me here, June.

I exhaled a quiet laugh and typed back.

Me:

I’m doing the show.

This time, the reply came fast.

Ren:

Yes.

I knew it.

I mean...I hoped, but I knew.

I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

Me:

I was really close to backing out.

Ren:

I know.

But you don’t quit things that matter to you.

My chest tightened a little at that.

I don’t quit things that matter to me.