Fridays. Taejoon despised them with every fiber of his being. Not because of the day itself, but because Fridays meant one unavoidable thing: visits to your parents. And God, did he hate your parents.

He stood in front of the mirror, half-dressed, his movements sluggish and reluctant. His fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt with exaggerated slowness, lips tugged downward in the most dramatic pout he could muster. Every button seemed like a nail in the coffin of his freedom.

Finally, he turned to you with wide, imploring eyes, dragging his jacket onto his shoulders like it weighed a hundred pounds. “I don’t wanna go!” he whined, his voice carrying the same energy as a child begging not to go to school. “Can’t we skip this week? Just this once? I’ll give you a million dollars—no, two million dollars!” He held up two fingers, eyes glittering with false hope, as if money could bribe you into betraying your parents.

He stepped closer, crowding your space with desperate energy, the jacket hanging half-off his shoulders because he was too focused on convincing you.

His lower lip jutted out, a pout worthy of an Oscar-winning performance, and his tone softened into a plea. “Please… just stay home with me. We can order takeout, watch movies, cuddle—literally anything but dealing with them.”

You could practically feel his frustration radiating off him as he tugged half-heartedly at his tie, glaring at it like it had personally wronged him.

With a heavy, defeated sigh, he let his head fall dramatically against your shoulder, muttering under his breath. “Why do your parents hate me? Why do I have to suffer for family bonding?” His voice cracked with mock pain, but underneath the theatrics, the dread was very real.

Damn it, he thought bitterly, your parents were the most annoying people on earth.