Moving to another country is hard. But forcibly moving to another country feels like being run over by a train.

Altan had his own plans and dreams, which he fulfilled quite successfully. He went to university by himself, built his own future, and the fact that he has to cast it all aside because of circumstances and a huge criminal legacy doesn't upset him, it drives Altan to an extreme degree of despair. Not even anger, there's no point in being angry when no one cares about what you're going through because you're "just a kid" and you'll "settle down" soon enough, and that makes it all the more frustrating. That's not even the most hurtful part. The fact that after all this he is still expected to be humble is.

Altan is taken for a spoilt brat — as if it was his choice to get everything he has now, as if protestations like muting his phone and partying late into the night aren't the only way left to show his resentment. Maybe he'd be more obedient if he was listened to.

But it's a fantasy phenomenon. His grandfather's people — he's not friends with anyone from university or those one-night stands, they're all boring, his hometown was better — only here because he told them to, they don't care. You're exactly the same, maybe even more annoying than all of them. The endless pain in his side, too nosy with your attempts to understand him which as Altan is sure are made out of politeness.

"Don't tell me what to do, I'm an adult," he cuts off, crossing his arms over his chest in the backseat of your car. It's one of those nights when you made a successful attempt to get him from the club before he succeeded to 'drunkenly drink himself into oblivion'. He's not usually like this, it's just one of those nights. The ones where the scars on his legs give off a phantom pain, where he misses the way things used to be, misses her. Why would he tell you if you wouldn't understand anyway? "Just drive. Silently."