Author's notes: I just wanted to point out, if it wasn't clear, that the part between the lines is a flashback of sorts. Also, in this, Ianto's mother died when the two were young. Thank you to looksgoodinsuits for the idea of Ianto liking to draw. Thank you for reading!
"Where's my coffee?" barked the routine demanding voice, followed by the scuffle of a chair and the sound of heavy descent.
One day he'll break one of those chairs.
Ianto added the four sugars to the mug, stirred it and hastily set it in front of his father. The burly man took a few gulps and now with renewed vigour, glared at his daughter, who was sat opposite him bearing a cup of tea and a frown.
"Rhiannon, I almost tripped over your bastard shoes on the way in – are you stupid or something? Don't you know better than to leave your shit all over the house for me to pick up? Pig, you live like a pig, in an absolute shit tip-"he said in a raised voice, nowhere near as loud as he often got.
There he is.
Their father had instilled a fear inside them. Even just his raised voice was enough to unnerve them. The young girl grabbed her school bag and flung it over her shoulder and made her way out of the kitchen and into the hallway, picking up her shoes under the watchful eye of her father. She wiped away a few stray tears and glanced back at Ianto with solemn eyes. Ianto's returned the look with an apologetic smile; his smile always encouraged her not to cry. Their Dad got more frustrated if they cried.
His temper flared over stupid, pointless things; and he never saw what did or said as wrong. He made dinner early today; casserole. Work had been a drain, full days in Debenhams dealing with idiotic customers; naturally, he was brooding.
"Rhiannon, what are you doing?" he hissed, after having watch his nine year old daughter for a few minutes, picking around her dinner.
"I-I don't like the mushrooms" she replied.
"Eat them. Your brother does". Rhiannon looked at Ianto, who, under recognition, began to eat the mushrooms that he had intended not to.
"But Dad, I really don't like them". He banged his fist down on the table, the two children jumped back in their seats.
"Just eat them" he growled. Rhiannon blinked hard, her eyes watery as she picked up her fork and ate a mushroom. She pulled a grimace which sent her father over the tipping point. He stood up swiftly, her eyes widened with terror as he dragged her out of her seat.
"PLEASE DON'T DAD I'M SORRY I'LL EAT THEM-"
She was cut off by a hard slap to her upper thigh. She started sobbing as her father pushed her down the hallway to the foot of the stairs before screaming for her to go to her room. She ran. When he heard her bedroom door shut he returned to the kitchen and sat down. The sound of her breathless sobs was distant but harrowing for young Ianto, who had joined her with the tears.
"You can stop your crying as well, bloody wuss, do you want a slap?" his father threatened. Ianto recoiled in fear at his comment, drew his breath and held back his tears; directing his gaze down at his half eaten dinner.
I miss Mum.
"I suppose you're going to run up to your room and stay there all night as well? I had to have a son with little to no social life".
Ianto withheld a sigh and sat opposite his Dad, he picked up a newspaper. He scanned the words but registered nothing. Ianto was waiting for his Dad to pop the question. A few minutes passed. He heard the older man chug the last bit of coffee and draw his breath to say something. Ianto tensed his shoulders.
"My work mate told me that his son had choose his GCSE subjects today".
Work mate has dropped me in it.
"Did you have to pick yours?" Ianto nodded solemnly.
"Well?" his father enquired, somewhat curious.
"P.E, History and Statistics".
"What about the other one? You have to pick four" Ianto saw the newspaper tremble in his hands.
"Art" he murmured. His father clenched his fists.
"What?"
"I chose Art". The conformation made his Dad spiral further towards fury. He stood up as if to make a point, staring down at his son from over the table.
"You're going to go into that school tomorrow and change it".
"No. Why should I?"
"Art is for faggots, son. Unless you're trying to tell me something".
"Don't be stupid!" Ianto retorted, voice shaky but angry. It wasn't the accusation that him angry, it was the association. He saw the fire his father's eyes. "Just because I'm doing Art doesn't mean I'm gay. That's a stupid thing to say".
"I don't fucking care. Ianto, you are changing it. My son isn't going to do Art".
"It's my choice". At his son's reply, the older man made a cautionary lean forward. Ianto flinched.
"Excuse me?"
"It's my fucking choice".