don't you know? you're not her real son. she has you now, but what happens your parents decide they want you back? when they sick the heroes on her, tear you from her arms as she screams and pleads with them not to take you? do you know what they'll do to her? a criminal? even if you wanted to go back to her you couldn't. why would you though? SHES NOT YOUR MOM. she'll never be your mom and you know it. does that hurt you? does that make you want to cry? to have the thing you wished for, the thing all children should be given, unconditional love- you can never have it. one of these days your real family will come for you and she will become a fleeting memory.
it would've hurt less if shigaraki had dusted his right hand. shoto had become old friends with the feeling of his heart dropping into his stomach, the dread fills him immediately and right behind it, the existential crisis of knowing they have a point. how many times did he worry about the repercussions of her actions, that even in a society like the one he grew up in, there's the chance they can send someone and take him back. its something he fears, not in the back of his mind, but always at the forefront.
tightness plagues his chest, tears dampening on his lashes and truly even if he wanted to, there's no hiding the devastation at these thoughts and he swallows thickly, fists clenching at his sides. ❝ ━ a mother loves their child, they don't hurt them. they'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. the same with fathers. ❞ bellamy had shown him just what it meant to be a man, how to care for himself and there's something he can never forget. ❝ ━ is it so wrong for me to want just a taste of what it means to have unconditional love ? for so long, i didn't know who i was, i knew what i was, what my purpose of but...❞ i didn't feel real. just a byproduct of eugenics.
he hates this, so much. the weight on his chest gets heavier, tears silently streaking down his cheeks, frost creeping along his arm, wisps of flame sparking near his shoulder. i won't let them take me back, not without a fight. even when i have to go back, i want to come back home. loni was his mom, maybe not by blood but in all the ways that mattered. all the lessons, all the traditions, every memory for the last three years weren't going to become a fleeting memory. no, they would forever be cherished no mattered where he was.
not being able to speak around the lump in his throat, he turns away, hands trembling. words of a faceless coward spitting words might've struck deep but shoto is obstinate. loni would always be his mom and he would always be her son, no one could take that from him.
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