Hello, friends! This is not exactly a new story, per se, but rather the parts that include Huroro from my other fanfiction Corporal, re-written from Huroro's point of view. (to those that don't know or haven't read my other fic yet, Huroro is Kululu's father)
It's just something I felt like doing~
Oh, and I sourced exactly what chapter and what section from Corporal that each part of this is from so tat if you want to you can read them side by side.
Anyway, enjoy!
Huroro P.O.V. Adaptation, Corporal Chapter 15, Section 2/2
Huroro felt a pang of frustration. He had been searching for his goddamn lighter for fifteen minutes now, and he still hadn't found it. He must have misplaced it, he decided. He didn't feel like looking for it anymore, but he needed a cigarette. He suddenly remembered that he had left a book of matches on the porch. He'd just use one of those.
Huroro went out his door and found the matches sitting on the windowsill. He removed a cigarette from his pocket and lit it before dropping the match and snuffing out the flame with his heel.
He took a drag from the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke, relishing the taste.
It was a nice day, he noticed. It wasn't too hot or too cold, and the sun was obscured by a thick blanket of clouds, which was good, he thought, because he hated when the fucking sun shone in his eyes like a cheerful little jackass.
He decided that he would sit on the porch for a while and smoke. He preferred to smoke outside, although of course he frequently smoked in the house as well.
Huroro retrieved a bottle of beer from the fridge in the house and returned to the porch.
He sat in a chair and crossed his legs, dragging on his cigarette. He felt himself relax and he closed his eyes and allowed his head to tilt forward a little. He found his mind wandering to the young girl who had been dancing up on his lap at the strip club the other night…
His train of thought was abruptly broken when he heard someone unlock the gate and start up the walkway. He opened his eyes and squinted through his glasses at the figure in confusion for a moment, and then he realized that he was looking at his son.
He stood up in astonishment, alarm, whatever you want to call it, and said, "Kululu?" Huroro was a little surprised to see how much older his son looked.
How many years had it been since he'd seen him? Ten years? Longer? God, how old was he? He was hit with a sudden influx of memories that hadn't crossed his mind in a long time: holding Kululu when he was a newborn and feeling a hopeless feeling of love and devotion to him, teaching him how to walk and write and struggling with Kululu's left-handedness. He remembered the first time he struck his son across his face and how awful he felt about it afterwards… and the slow feeling of water draining from a sink as Kululu got older and started being an asshole and more often than not Huroro found himself irritated with him… and the apathy he felt when he stopped being able to honestly tell himself that he loved his son…
All of these thoughts flashed across his mind in the period of a few milliseconds and then Kululu said, "What's shakin', bacon?"
"I thought you were on Pekopon," Huroro replied.
"No, I'm clearly on Keron, standing in front of you. Wow, Huroro, is your eyesight really that bad?" Kululu replied.
(that snarky little bitch)
"Calling your dad by his name, huh?"
"Oh, gosh, sorry, would you rather I call you father? Or daddy? How about stupid jackass? I think that suits you best."
(what the fuck did I even say goddamn why is this kid such a dick?!)
"Geez, cool it, Major Kululu," Huroro retorted, remembering about his son's demotion. "Ah, imagine: my perfect, beautiful son, a major! Oh, wait...," he added mockingly. "You got demoted, didn't you?"
"Nice one," Kululu replied. "Yeah, I got demoted. I'm so fucking proud of you for coming up with that insult. You got me so good. Oh, how will I ever recover from that devastating blow...?"
Huroro smiled grimly at the blonde-haired punk who so resembled himself and said, "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
"No."
"Great," Huroro replied sarcastically. He took another drag of the cigarette. "So, what do you want?"
"So lovely of you to ask. I'd like to book a room in the finest establishment I can imagine."
Huroro raised his eyebrow.
"... I need to live here with you for a little while."
(?? No ?)
"Why the hell should I let you?" Huroro asked, a little dumbfounded. "Our first meeting in years and you're acting like the same hostile asshole that you were when you left."
"Come on."
Huroro considered just flat-out saying no. Why the hell would he want Kululu hanging around his house for who knows how long?
But, for some reason, he wasn't able to do it. "Yeah, okay. Do whatever you want, Kululu. Just stay out of my way." He picked up his bottle and started inside the house. Kululu followed and shut the door behind himself.
Huroro glanced over the cigarette butts and empty beer bottles that littered the floor. "Sorry about the mess," he said (why am I apologizing to this fucker?) "I haven't really kept tidy since your mother died."
"Yeah, Huroro," Kululu replied, "I can see that."
Huroro felt like smacking him across the face. He settled with saying, "Enough of your cheek, Kululu. Seriously, I had enough of that when you were younger."
"You gonna handle it the same way as when I was younger, too? Huh? Really, what are you going to do? Planning on beating your nearly thirty-year-old son to teach him a nice lesson, Daddy?"
(you read my mind, kiddo)
"Screw you, Kululu," Huroro said. He was already starting to regret his decision to allow his son to stay. He grabbed a coat and snuffed his cigarette out in an ashtray. "I'm going out. You can sleep on the couch. Don't touch any of my stuff." He went out the door and started down the street without a backward glance at Kululu.