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Father was cruel, Kinich knew this to be true.
"Kiin, you're not eating."
But father also cooked the most delicious deer stew. This, too, Kinich begrudgingly accepted as fact as he sipped up the steaming liquid from his spoon.
"It's good." Kinich tried smiling, which was enough for the man beside him to be happy.
"Does it hurt?" Father's hands, that had just left purple marks on Kinich's body, were gentle when the mam traced his skin and even patted him softly when he flinched. Father looked at Kinich with the eyes the man passed down to him, the same ones that could burn with rage or tear with sadness in an instant. It was the second one. "I'm sorry, Kiin."
Kinich nodded but in his heart wanted to run far away.
"It's okay..." he let his gaze fall to the other side of the dining mat where a woman was missing. He continued to stare at the spot, all the while the man applied ointment on his injuries.
When night came, he slept beside his snoring father, sorely feeling the absence of another figure on their mattress. He slept dreaming of his mother's warmth embrance, hands grasping at the empty space next to him. And when he woke up, he'd find it still empty and cold to his touch.
When mother left, Kinich became the main target of his father's ire. When the man came back home having lost all his gambling money, Kinich would find the furthest corner away to hide. Every time he was found, he wondered if he could've hid for longer if they hadn't sold their furnitures back in their old house. He'd loved to hide inside the closet. It used to be the safest there.
Once upon a time, Kinich liked to hope that the rage would settle before the man's fist landed on his body. Now he only expected the soft caress and apology after the man had quelled his temper by throwing Kinich around the house. And then father would feed him meat stew, the man giving his own portion if Kinich finished his serving.
Kinich hated his father... Yet he also loved the tenderness with which the man nursed his injuries.
The two sides of the man came to the forefront depending on his mood. On good days, Kinich was lulled into a sense of security. On bad days, he cursed himself for believing his life would change with mere acts of spoiling.
Today father won big again and brought home some sweets just for him.
"What do you have there, Kiin?" Father, whose eyes were kind again today, glowed with adoration that melted Kinich's skeptical heart enough to show the man his craft.
"I drew us." Kinich had drawn a picture of their family, the three of them holding hands under the sun. His finger traced the stick figure of his beloved mother. "I want mom."
His father stayed quiet but Kinich could see his hands turning into fists. But today was a good day, so Kinich knew he was safe.
"Are we eating stews too, today?"
"Why yes. I'll make all the stews in the world for you, Kiin." Father smiled again, a genuine look of affection that Kinich wished wouldn't go away once the sun rose and the man lost yet another bet.
〘◉〙
"Dad, please!"
"Silence!" the kind face that he'd gotten used to the last few days had morphed into rage.
Father's legs ended on Kinich's side, stomping him as he curled into himself on the ground. He cried but no matter how much he pleaded, the man didn't hold back.
Booze in hand and meager amounts of winnings in another, he focused his anger onto Kinich's trembling body.
Sometimes Kinich wondered if father ever loved him.
"You're talking back to me?!" Father would reply whenever he so much as expressed his feelings. And the beatings would be twice as bad.
Kinich forgot how many times he'd cried himself to sleep aching for tender hands to hold him close.
He wanted his mother.
But all he got in the morning was the same man who hurt him asking for forgiveness while he hugged Kinich's tiny frame.
And Kinich forgave him yet again.
He wondered if that was why his mother left. Perhaps she too couldn't decide between loving or cursing her husband, and found an answer in running away from this cage.
One night, father snuggled him as they lay on their worn mattress.
"Do you know what a lighthouse is?"
Kinich felt the sleep trying to consume him but fought to keep his eyes open. He wrinkled his brow and looked at the sole candle in the room, the only source of light they could afford.
"A house... with a lot of light?
Father hummed, carressing hiw hair. "It's a small tower that helps ships travel at night. The big light on the top lets them see the water."
"Like the moon?"
"Yes, but the moon isn't always there." Father hugged him closer. "Your mother was my lighthouse. But I chased her away..."
Kinich stayed silent. He didn't know if sleep claimed him or father faster. What he knew was he dreamed of mother that night, her silhoutte waving at him from the top of a lighthouse as his ship made its way home.
〘◉〙
There was only one time when father lost gambling but didn't take it out on him.
"What did they want this time?" Kinich hesitantly asked from the safety confines of the kitchen, fearing for the man's unstable mood. A lot of times, father had to trade in something else to pay his debts. What he paid to those people, he took back from Kinich in the form of beatings. Yet the monster inside the man chose to stay quiet today. "Are they taking the house next?"
"You," was father's simple answer. He chugged a wine bottle on his favorite wooden chair, the only furniture they had left in the living room. The man narrowed his eyes. "They asked for you. Told them to scram off."
Kinich felt weirdly warm inside that father was angered for him. Then he furrowed his brow, not understanding. "Me?"
"Your body." Father glowered, the anger fascinatingly directed at someone else for once. "Your eyes, your face..."
Kinich was confused. "They want my eyes?"
Father's chuckle was not of amusement at all as he chugged some more. "Remember this, Kiin. Nothing good comes off of selling yourself to other people. Sell your belongings, steal and sell someone else's stuff. But never your body. You'll regret it."
Father wasn't a good father. But in that moment, Kinich held nothing but wonder listening to the first genuinely fatherly thing the man had ever said to him.
That day was full of surprises. For once, father let him ask anything and everything he wanted. They talked late into the night, the stench of booze hardly a hindrance as Kinich made sure to lend his ears to whatever father had to say.
This was the first and last time Kinich felt what it was like to have a happy family.
Kinich burned father's advice to memory even after leading the man to his death.
He remembered it even as he pleased his first customer.
"Open your mouth. And don't bite."
Advice from a horrible man was still an advice.
But mora was mora.
"Aaaa."
〘◉〙
"Aaaa," Ajaw opened his mouth, waiting for the spoonful of ice cream in Kinich's hand. His annoyed scowl was somehow adorable. "Are you going to feed me or not?"
"Here it is, your highness," Kinich guided the spoon into his son's greedy maw. Who knew how many desserts the kid had eaten today without him looking. he had better limit Ajaw's sugary intake from now on.
Kinich's parental concern momentarily disappeared when he saw the boy's smiling face, happy to be eating the combination of both his favorite food. Kinich scooped more spoonfuls from the ice cream cup in his hand, watching as the cold dessert gradually disappear.
The Monstadt grape exhibition was a sight to see, for sure. He took his son's hand, the boy himself holding his fungus pet, and led them across more booths that tempted the boy's sweet tooth. Even an adult would have a hard time resisting.
"Dad, dad! Over there!" Ajaw suddenly tugged his arm and pointed to a booth. Kinich thanked the wayobs it wasn't another dessert booth and was only selling grape themed merchs.
He laughed, something he'd been doing rather a lot lately.
"Alright. No need to pull my hand so hard."
As the boy fussed over what to buy for the rest of their family, Kinich found himself smiling.
If lighthouses guided ships to shore, then the boy was guiding Kinich's way to bankcruptcy with all the the little trinkets he was urging Kinich to buy. This kid, he swore.
"What do you think, Pep?" Ajaw put on a grape-shaped helmet and asked the fungus for its opinion.
Pep tilted its head, as it was prone to do.
Ajaw grinned. "Yeah it's ugly. Let's buy it and give to Aclla."
Kinich wanted to see that smile last longer, so he also got the boy several sets of grape flavored toothpaste.