Work Text:
Sal had always had his empathy, it's not unheard of to be born with your quirk. It really wasn't pleasant to grow up with, mostly because he didn't know it was his quirk, he just thought everyone was like that. His parents were so confused every time he'd try to explain it, all of the "But she was sad! How could you not tell?" And the "I- I mean, I can just feel it, I guess?" They eventually took him to a quirk doctor, and their suspicions had been confirmed, he was an empath.
His mother was so proud, she couldn't stop smiling at all that day. His dad was happy too, of course he was, just not as much as his mom. His father's quirk was simple, it was called Focus, he could choose to focus on doing something till he wanted to stop and the outside world would just sort of melt away. It came in handy a lot, especially with his job. Sometimes he would accidentally activate his quirk on small tasks like taking out the trash. It was funny to watch, he'd be doing something trivial and then his face would just go blank and look so intense, he wouldn't even realize he'd used his quirk most of the time.
His mother was quirkless. She loved quirks, she loved to watch them and learn about them, she adored them so much. Sal had never understood why so many people looked down upon quirkless people, he didn't understand how anyone could look at his mother and the word 'useless' would pop up in their mind.
Sometimes when he could feel them judging her, he would get so confused and sad. But sometimes he would get so angry, he wanted to yell at them and say "you're more useless than she could ever try to be!" But he figured that would do nothing but make his mom sad.
At her funeral they said all kinds of things, "No wonder she passed so soon, she was quirkless y'know?" "She didn't have a quirk to protect herself, what a shame." Sal felt more anger then he had ever felt before that day, but he kept it to himself and didn't say anything rude. Even if his mother wasn't here anymore, he fears he may still make her sad, where ever she is.
He felt like he was grieving for two people, his dad's room was not too far from his and his quirk was relentless and unforgiving. He couldn't turn it off no matter what he tried, and he tried so much, but it was worthless in the end. He'd just have to deal with this amplified grief that was shoved his way. He tried to help his dad as often as he could, but he was grieving too and there's no way a child could be a therapist.
When his quirk mutated, it was terrifying.
It was one of the many times he was trying to make his dad less sad so maybe he would be less sad too, he always felt selfish for that being part of the reason he comforts his dad so much. He wanted to hold his dad's hand, he thought maybe both of them would be happier if he did, his dad hasn't had much physical contact lately. The moment he grabbed his dad's hand, he froze.
blameblame self-hated self-pity blame sadnessblame lonely ness self-pity blame sadness.
Sal immediately broke down crying and sobbing hysterically, his dad didn't let go of his hand, he didn't know what was happening to him. He tried to comfort Sal through it and try to get him to tell him what was wrong, but Sal couldn't move his hand away or form any sort of sound that sounded like words. His dad didn't let go of his hand for 20 excruciating minutes, he didn't know what was going on and eventually dragged him to the car so he could see a doctor.
Quirk mutations weren't common, but with enough mental, emotional, or physical stress, it can mutate. The doctor had explained it was like a quirk version of how the human body will adapt to the cold if you live there long enough, even if the mutation won't help the situation in the slightest, it will still adapt to try to save the host.
When the doctor tried to figure out what his quirk mutated to, he asked what had triggered it. His dad answered "I think it has something to do with physical contact." His doctor hummed and looked at Sal "do you think so too?"
He nodded.
His doctor wrote something down "any side effects?" Sal looked at the floor "I couldn't move or talk, it was really scary." His doctor wrote some more stuff down. "Since you're an empath, I assume the mutation has something to do with emotions. Beside it being scary, how did it feel?" Sal started to fidget with his hands "It's like... I felt everything he was feeling. It felt like I was him, but I was still me. It felt like I was intruding and I felt really vulnerable, not because I was crying though... It, uh, felt..." His doctor stopped writing and gave him a small smile "It didn't feel good, did it?"
He nodded again.
"Alright, that should be all for today. You can come by next week if you want a more in-depth talk about it or if you want him to try the new part of his quirk in a safe space." His dad got up and grabbed the keys out of his pocket. "Thank you. About coming back next week..." He looks at Sal "I- I don't know yet." The drive home was quiet.
When they get home his dad headed straight for his room, Sal watched the door close and walks to his room too. He knows why his dad won't talk to him and he can feel his shame from across the house. The moment he grabbed his dad's hand was like getting the worst kind of validation. Sal had always known it was his fault his mom died, no one dared to say it though, but feeling it was another thing. It's not like his dad wanted to blame him and he could tell that he hated that he felt that way.
Maybe that was worse... If his dad didn't feel awful that he blamed him, he could just tell himself that his dad's an asshole. But he can't do that, because it's his fault and it's not just only himself thinking that now.
When his dad sees tear-stains on Sal's pillow the next day, he doesn’t say anything, he just puts the newly bought long-sleeved shirts inside his drawer.