It’s during the unannounced travels of his father that Kyuhyun has taken to feeling more and more bitter about the thoughtless and inconsiderate god of wine. He’s long since accepted that his father will never be anything desirable but this last absence had brought upon a new feeling. Kyuhyun caught himself wishing on several occasions that Dionysus would just.. go away forever if he were going to keep going at all. He knows that it’s a thought born of bitterness and anger, but it’s still something that Kyuhyun cannot deny that he’s entertained.
He sits on the porch of the home he shares with someone he’s also been sharing a bed with. There’s a mostly empty bottle of unlabeled wine clutched in his hand and he looks like he is on his way to becoming drunk in the near future.
When he hears that familiar voice, Kyuhyun lifts his dark brown gaze up to land upon the grinning man. Oh, how he hates that inappropriate grin. Sometimes Kyuhyun wishes he could claw it right off of Dionysus’ face. Why did he have to show up now while he was grieving? Why did he have to show up when he and Finn were the most vulnerable?
"What do you want?" It’s all he can manage to practically slur.
The familiar stench of fermented grapes reaches him before his son’s voice. His words are slurred, changed by what the god can only rightly assume is the wine bottle’s influence— Kyuhyun grips it like a man in need for much more than that. Something is off, aside from the near intoxication of the young man, he can feel it in the air. It differs from the usual stretch of tension between them. There is a heaviness that he hasn’t felt before. Not on his son at least.
It’s a weight he’s felt thrumming under his bones in the past— centuries ago. The grin on his face fades into a mere line that indicates nothing. “I mean to see you. I’ve returned bearing gifts.” If it’s any consolation goes unfinished in his head. He knows his lycan demigod son wouldn’t appreciate the words. Eyeing the drink in his hand, he slowly takes to glancing around the porch of a home he can only assume is his son’s. There’s a certain ease in the way in which Kyuhyun sets himself on the porch. A familiarity. He fingers the box in his pocket but leaves it be for the moment. Instead he centers his look on his son’s face, hoping to read the intoxicated expression for what lies beneath. Part of him wants to ask, but the other half knows he doesn’t deserve an answer. So instead the god forms a bottle within his hands and places it down by the younger’s side. “I can assure you this is stronger, Kyu.”
