Everyone who lives here knows that you shouldn't be outside after 8. Yet all the parties start at 11pm, the time when you can be arrested for anything, or even shot at. He just shakes his head. As if that would happen today. 

He stares blankly up at the flats. Dad will be sitting there, with shards of glass around his feet and half-eaten plates on the carpet. He doesn't want to be the one to hold Dad's hair again, to wash away all the stains, to wake up at 3.30 in the morning just to freshen up the flat in time for the SOC to arrive. But someone has to do it, right? 

"Don't think so much," he says to himself before stumbling in.  

Part of him has missed all this. All the cracked walls, and the concrete that peeks through the wallpaper. All the nights when the windows vibrate to the beat of the music, but also the quiet mornings when everyone is too hungover to do anything.  

But his whole body just says no. He doesn't want to stand there again, watch everyone destroy their lives more and more every day, let alone be one of them. But he has no choice. No one does. He takes a deep breath and turns the key. 

"What?"  

The first thing that greets him is how clean the hallway is. The coats that usually are on the floor are now spotless and hung up neatly. Even his shoes are neatly tucked under them.  

"I'm home," he shouts, and looks around some more. 

What has happened? Have they been evicted and a new couple has moved in? Has Dad found a girlfriend who has actually taken care of him and got him back on his feet? Or is this like every damn time he tells him to "change" and that what he's doing is "unacceptable." 

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"Seth?" He hears his father say. 

His light footsteps echo in the hallway. This is it. What should he say? Will he just pretend it's nothing and carry on as usual? Or will he finally say something. That this won't work. They both know it. 

Nothing. 

Not a single word comes out of their mouths. 

They don't have to say anything. The looks speak for themselves. Seth stares at the glossy floor. Dad desperately blinks away the tears before sighing. For the hundredth time they stand here.  

"Any time now," Seth thinks. "We might as well get it over with." 

All the times he's been scolded, his yelling has become fodder, and all the times he's ended up leaving again have made "home" feel like a crappy motel you never want to see again. Still, he has to pay all the bills, make sure he gets something to eat, all on a student grant and part-time job on the docks. All that, while your classmates complain about their parents refusing to buy a car. But at the same time... All those times he actually pulled himself together, if only for a few weeks... Maybe this is one of those times.

Finally, they meet each other's eyes again.  

"There you are," Dad says, his voice wavering. 

No anger. Just relief. Wait... That can't be right, can it? 

He nods and puts the bag down. Should he go over there...? Too late. His feet have already started moving towards him. Now they're here again. All the empty promises, all the apologies that never meant anything. Like a known secret: This place will never be “good”. It never has been, so why should everything work out now of all days in the world?  

"Hijo..." Dad whispers before wrapping his arms around him. 

Like all times, his grip is weak. His legs are wobbly. But the breath is fresh. His hair is washed. He is burdened with grief, but the twinkle in his eye is there. The gleam that was there before everything went to hell. 

This...  

Might be the start of something new?