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1.
“Mind if I sit here?” a kind voice asks and Hitoshi only looks up long enough from where he buried his face into his arms to see green eyes and freckles before he tiredly nods, forcing a noncommittal grunt out his throat.
He rests his head back into the sleeves of his hoodie as he listens to the boy his age sit down and place down two styrofoam cups - coffee by the smell.
“Rough day?” he asks as he picks up one of them, taking a sip and normally Hitoshi would have suppressed a groan at the stranger’s curiosity, but something stops him.
Maybe it’s the way the boy looks at him, soft smile on his lips and eyes so non-judgmental and open. It rattles something in Hitoshi.
So he hums in agreement.
“Why don’t you take my second coffee?” the boy offers, scooting the cup closer. “You look like you could use the caffeine.”
Hitoshi hesitates for a moment until he realizes that the boy would have no motive for poisoning him. They don’t even know each other.
His fingers grasp the coffee and relax against the warmth as he curls them around the cup. He sits up a bit straighter before sniffing the coffee, relishing in the aroma.
As he sips, he realizes it tastes exactly like he likes his coffee. Black with a shot of espresso and a dazzle of caramel. A coincidence?
His eyes drift back to the boy and he can barely hide a flinch, choking on his drink when he sees him watching him with something akin to fondness.
The boy scrambles to help but Hitoshi waves his concerns off, coughing as he tries to get his bearings.
“It‘s fine,” he croaks out, as the boy finally sits back down, ears slightly red from embarrassment. “Thanks… for the coffee.”
The boy brightens at that and Hitoshi closes his eyes for a slight moment. How come he is the one being embarrassed when he caught the other one staring?
“Hey aren’t you from UA?” the boy suddenly switches the topic. “I think I saw you during the Sports Festival back then.”
Hitoshi flushes a little, the Sports Festival had almost been a year back now and he still cringes when he thinks about it. He had been so naive thinking he could win against hero students without any substantial training. Todoroki had slammed his foot down and frozen him before he had the chance to utter a single word. He could be glad Aizawa had seen something in him back then - even if Hitoshi still doesn’t know to this day what.
He clears his throat, coughs finally subsiding as he replies with a simple, “Yeah.”
For some reason, he doesn’t want the boy to dislike him.
“That’s great!” the boy says earnestly. “It’s a shame you hadn’t had a chance to use your quirk!”
He’s about to agree when he freezes. Why does it sound like he knows what Hitoshi’s quirk is? He never publicized it. He squints at the boy, thoughts about appealing to him all but forgotten.
“Yes,” he says curtly. “Who are you anyway?”
The boy seems to pick up on the sudden mood shift because his smile is a bit tight and sad around the edges as for the first time in their conversation he turns away from Hitoshi, prompting to look out the window instead, a far away look in his eyes like he is reliving some sort of memory.
“I wonder…” the boy mumbles before he shakes himself out of his stupor, plastering a fake smile on his face as he faces Hitoshi again. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I bothered you…”
He seems to want to add something else but he shakes his head and stands up, picking up his own cup.
“Take care,” the boy says goodbye, sending him a too painful smile to not be real.
But before he can hurry off, Hitoshi shoots up and grasps his wrist, locking him in place, not caring about the attention they are gathering.
“Wait,” he says, the boy pausing. “You know me, don’t you. We met before.”
The way the boy looked at him. Like they have done this a thousand times before. Like they’ve had this encounter before. Like in another lifetime, they’ve been more than strangers.
“Don’t be daft,” the boy disagrees, but Hitoshi can hear the hidden hope in his voice as he doesn’t meet Hitoshi's insistent eyes. “I have to go.”
“How many times have we met like this?” Hitoshi presses further, coming to a realization.
Whoever this boy is, he can't let him go. Those last words had felt like a final goodbye. If he lets him go he knows he will never see him again.
The boy flinches and Hitoshi knows he is right as the boy squeezes his eyes close, a tear escaping.
“Don’t,” the boy’s voice is breathless. “I can’t do…”
He trails off, biting his lips but Hitoshi can read between the lines. I can’t do this again.
“Then don’t,” Hitoshi says.
The boy lets out a breathless, wet laugh.
“You don’t play fair, Toshi ,” he sinks back into his seat, pulling Hitoshi with him. “Not fair at all.”
As Hitoshi leans on the arm rest he is close enough to count the boy’s freckles, displayed against his cheeks like undiscovered constellations. His eyes trail the boy’s scar across the nose bridge and right cheek. The boy watches him through his lashes.
“How many?” Hitohsi asks again.
The boy gulps and he doesn’t bother smiling this time as he mindlessly brushes a stray lock out of Hitoshi’s face with the sort of familiarity that speaks of years of knowing each other.
“Too many,” the boys says.
“What were we…”
He doesn’t bother finishing his sentence, the boy understanding him even then.
“Friends,” he starts, a sort of longing filling his eyes. “Once upon a time even lovers. Partners more often than not.”
Hitoshi's throat is dry as he gulps.
“Why…” Why did you find me now?
“I won,” comes the answer, but instead of sounding triumphant he just sounds empty. “He’s dead.”
“How many?” Hitoshi asks again and this time he knows he will get an answer.
“2421 times,” the boy admits, “It took me 2421 times.”
Hitoshi lets out a stuttering breath.
2421 lifetimes.
“You hated me in my original timeline,” the boy suddenly says. “When we fought at the Sports Festival.”
Hitoshi frowns, thinking about the implications of those words. He must have been at UA too. But why wasn’t he there this time?
“I don’t now,” he says instead.
“Well we did become friends further down the line,” the boy laughs, before he stills, drawing circles into the armrest not occupied by Hitoshi.
“I gave up after 612 times,” he explains. “My first loop they thought I was a spy and traitor and I got locked in Tartarus. I didn’t try telling anyone about my knowledge after that.”
Hitoshi blanches at that, having heard horror stories about the treatment of the prisoners online and from Aizawa himself.
“I tried to go the vigilante route after that,” the boy rambles. “But without a quirk, I died the first few loops until I properly learned how to fight and parkour. And even then I kept running into trouble and overestimating my strength.”
The boy lets out a snort and Hitoshi gains even more respect for the boy his age. To do everything he did - no doubt saving the world even while quirkless? Hitoshi is starting to understand his other selves for wanting to stand at the boy’s side.
“Pathetic, isn’t it?” the boy says with a self-conscious laugh.
“No,” Hitoshi vehemently disagrees. “Not at all.”
The boy blushes slightly under Hitoshi’s intense stare and clears his throat, Hitoshi also flushes once he realizes how close he got to the boy.
“Anyway now I’m here,” the boy continues before he pins Hitoshi with a breathtaking smile. “So how about it, Shinsou Hitoshi, won’t you grant me the honor of getting to know you again?”
“Your name,” Hitoshi forces out as his face heats up. “I need your name first.”
“Izuku,” the boy replies and Hitoshi has never been happier to learn a name.
2.
Shouta sinks into the backrest with a sigh, staring at the assignments spread over his table as he pets the cat that has climbed into his lap. He idly spins his red pen with his right hand, as he tries to decide what to do.
Maybe it’s time to book an ADHD assessment for Kaminari. While the boy excelled in the topic that seemed to interest him - mainly languages, his grades for the other subjects had been on a downward spiral since the start of the year. He had only barely managed to pass his written midterms and finals were coming up. And their second year would only become harder.
He groans and holds the cat in his lap as he leans forward to grab his coffee and that’s when he notices he is not alone in the cat café anymore. Sitting across from him, tucked into the corner, is a green-haired boy the same age as his current students and while Shouta doesn’t think he’s ever seen him before, the cats seem to like him, flocking to him from all sides and he greets them with a smile.
Shouta looks away, takes a sip, and concentrates back on grading. He’s about halfway through Ashido’s essay when he notices the boy staring at his hands. But before he can ask him what’s so interesting, his voice echoes through the room.
“You aren’t wearing your wedding ring.”
Shouta raises an eyebrow in curiosity.
“I’m not married,” he says simply.
The boy doesn’t have to know that tucked under his chest is a promise ring that means more to him and Hisashi than a wedding ring would ever do. They only withheld from marrying because in their line of work, they could never be sure enough. If villains found out about their connection it could end drastically. The only time both of them ever regretted it was when either of them got hurt during patrol and they weren’t allowed into the room on the basis of not being family.
Now that they were in the process of adopting Eri after her being their ward for almost half a year they were reconsidering their decision. She had been dropped off in front of UA with a letter tucked in her hands explaining her situation. When the police had arrived at the Shie Hassaikai manor it had already been up in flames. They hadn’t had a single lead besides the neat handwriting on the letter. But even that trail came up empty when Eri’s description of her hero had been vague at best.
“That’s not right,” the boy’s voice tears him out of his thoughts, mumbling something else that it lost on Shouta.
Shouta inspects the boy closer and he tries to think if he really hasn’t seen him before. Maybe one of the students he expelled over the last years or one of Hizashi’s general course students? But he thinks he would remember him if that was the case and he looks a bit too young to be older than a first year.
And that’s when he remembers Eri’s retelling of her rescue one evening.
“He was kind,” Eri mumbled as she clutched the unicorn plushie to her. “But he was like me, broken.”
Shouta had thought it was in regards to the man’s quirk, but as he watches the boy’s sleeve fall down, and trails the countless scars across his arm and the ones on his face, maybe it was about something different.
“How did you do it?” he asks and the boy stops mumbling.
Then he lets out a tired chuckle.
“You noticed, huh,” he doesn’t even sound surprised. “I should have known you would.”
“How did you manage to rescue Eri on your own?” Shouta tries again. “You are too young.”
“Oh, Eraser if only you knew,” the boy laughs and Shouta frowns. The boy can’t be older than 16.
“Then tell me,” he presses, slightly impatient, subconsciously activating his quirk.
“You don’t scare me,” the boy seems almost amused as he looks out of the window. “For that, I have too many secrets I have to take to my grave.”
“You are a high school student.” Shouta narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to worry about grades and making friends or your first love?”
The boy’s face falls and he presses his lips in a thin line.
“I haven’t been a high school student in a long time,” he says in an airy tone but before Shouta can question that statement the boy randomly switches the topic. “I tried 1036 times. And every time you found out you wouldn’t believe me. And I wanted to hate you. I... I really wanted to. After all, what is not possible in a world of quirks?”
The boy lets out a chuckle and finally turns back to look him in the eyes.
“But on that last run, I finally realized something…” he trails off. “It wasn’t that you didn’t believe me, it was that you didn’t want to have another Oboro on your hands.”
Shouta jumps up, the cat escaping with a yowl and slams his hands on his table, rattling the cup.
“How do you know that name?” he seethes.
But the boy doesn’t even flinch as he smothers down the fur of the cats who got spooked around him, face drawn into a solemn smile.
“You told me,” he claims. “On try 801.”
The words, “Liar,” get stuck in his throat as the boy continues on.
“I asked you why you expelled so many of your hero students,” he says. “And you told me his story. How you wanted to found an agency together but how everything changed during your first internship.”
Shouta never tells anyone that story ever. Even if students begged to know why he did it, why he would destroy their dreams like that. Even when they cursed and blamed him. Even when they hated him. He always thought he was in the right - after all, there was no reason to doubt that. Better have bitter, living kids than dead kids.
“How often did you die?”
The boy’s lips quirk up into a mirthless smile.
“Now you are asking the right questions,” he says, idly playing with the cat in his lap. “I wish I could tell you I stopped counting. But after a while, that number was the only thing I could cling to. In the end, its digit sum even counted up to 9. Fate has a cruel humor like that.”
Shouta knits his eyebrows together.
“Has it ever been…” my fault, his voice fails him as he gulps and the boy’s eyes soften.
“No.”
Shouta lets out a sigh before he starts to collect the papers scattered across the table and quickly finishes his coffee, thankfully having already paid for it beforehand.
“Wait where are you going?”
“We are going home and visiting Eri,” Shouta says over his shoulder, already leaving the cat-café.
“What do you mean we?” he hears the boy’s confused voice as the door closes shut, as well as a muffled scream. “Hey!”
He hides his smile as he hears the boy following him.
And when they arrive later - Hizashi greets them at the door, pecking Shouta on his lips and the boy shoots him a betrayed look - and he sees Eri smiling brightly at the sight of the boy, he thinks maybe he can live with someone else knowing Oboro’s story.
3.
It takes Ochako longer than it should to notice it. It’s only when her phone pings with an alarm and the ground shifts under her, the first wave reaching her that she realizes she got caught in the middle of an earthquake.
Her mind runs through the lessons Thirteen and Aizawa gave them as she tries to assess the situation. People around her are panicking and she can hear walls creaking with strain as the aftershock hits.
Then she hears the screams and watches as the first part of the building starts to collapse, burying people under it. She curses under her breath and decides, fuck the consequences, even though she doesn’t have a license, she can’t let people die here.
She doesn’t seem to be the only one with that idea because a boy her age steps up and commands so much authority with his instructions that civilians stop panicking and fall in line as they help each other quickly evacuate the building.
It shouldn’t be so easy to fall in step with the stranger as they direct people to the exit, Ochako subconsciously looking for the boy in guidance. But then he expertly calms mothers and children but even elderly people down and she can’t help but trust him.
Her eyes brush over his clothes - a non-descriptive black hoodie and practical cargo-shorts - but he isn’t wearing a school uniform like she is so she can’t assess whether he’s from a hero school or not. She’s sure she hasn’t seen him at UA, but maybe Ketsubetsu or one of the other smaller hero schools?
A loud explosion from another wall coming down tears her out of her thoughts and she gets back on focusing on the evacuation.
They have gotten out almost everyone who can move on their own and they are carefully making their way forward to the collapsed parts of the mall, directing the last few people to the exit.
The boy glances at her as they run.
“You are from UA’s hero course, right?”
Ochako knits her eyebrows together and nods. Did he recognize her from the Sports Festival?
“The two stripes on your uniform,” the boy explains, having caught on her confusion and Ochako lets out a hum.
She remembers reading in the packet they got at the start of the school year that the school uniform for general courses and hero courses were slightly different. Was that public knowledge?
“Do you have a license yet?” the boy questions further and Ochako shakes her head.
“No, but I’ll won’t let it stop me from saving more people.”
The boy grins at her.
“Good.”
They come to a stop in front of the collapsed area and the boy takes a look around.
“We’ll have to be careful and quick about this,” he says. “I’m not sure how much longer the foundation will hold on with half the support lost.”
Ochako lets her gaze drift to the cracks in the still-standing walls and uncollapsed ceiling and nods in agreement.
Ochako concentrates on moving the collapsed parts with her quirk while the boy calls out to the buried civilians and explains in a calm voice that help is coming. They unearth the first few victims and the boy instructs her to keep an eye out in case something shifts while he carefully extracts them, not even jostling them in the process as he steadily picks them up and sets them down in a safer place of the building.
They are about to get to the last civilian when Ochako hears sirens.
The boy perks up and brightens.
“That must be the paramedics.”
“And heroes,” Ochako supplies, and the boy falters slightly as he ducks under the debris Ochako is letting float in the air, but he catches himself quickly.
There’s something strange in his voice as he gulps.
“Yes those too.”
But he doesn’t let it show as he smiles at the elderly woman as he carries her out in a bridal carry and deposits her next to the other people.
Shortly after that, the medics arrive with stretchers and Ochako pushes her fingers together, removing the influence of her quirk.
The boy watches the concrete crumble as it falls down before he turns to her.
“It was good working with you again,” he says, smiles brightly, and shakes her hand. It’s warm.
Wait, again?
“Thank you for being my first friend,” he adds before Ochako can question him.
And Ochako never sees him again. (It’s only later when Ochako gives her statement that she realizes that she never got his name or saw him use his quirk.)
4.
Nedzu is nursing a tea when the boy sits down opposite him.
“Everybody is avoiding you like the plague,” the boy says before he moves a black pawn forward.
“What makes you think you won’t do the same after this?” Nedzu answers, slightly surprised by the forwardness as he sets down his cup and moves his own pawn.
The boy hums as he moves his next chess piece.
“I had a lot of time to practice.”
Nedzu’s eyes drift over the boy’s clothes.
“Homeschooled?”
“Something of that sort.”
Nedzu hums, as he moves his knight.
“Well then, why are you here?”
“I can’t enjoy a day out in the park, chatting with people?”
“You said it yourself, you went to me despite the fact that you could see everyone is avoiding me,” Nedzu starts. “Now either you are arrogant and think you can beat me or you were specifically looking for me”
The boy smiles slightly.
“Perhaps I’m both.”
Nedzu only raises one of his eyebrows.
“What’s your name?”
Something indescribable passes in the boy’s eyes as he stares at the chessboard and his smile is tight as he answers, moving a piece as he does so.
“You can call me Ninth.”
“Well then, Ninth,” Nedzu says as he calculates his next move, mentally deciding the boy falls under the second category. “What do you want?”
The boy watches as Nedzu places his next chess piece.
“What do you know about the concept of time loops?”
Nedzu pauses with his paw still on his chess piece.
“Very curious.”
He leans back as he thinks.
“Well, are we talking about a time loop that resets after a specific event or after a predetermined time?”
The boy wets his lips.
“A specific event.”
“Which would be?” Nedzu doesn’t let the boy look away.
“Death.”
“With or without the memories intact?”
“With.”
Nedzu hums as the boy looks away.
“And you are asking this, why?”
The boy lets out a bitter laugh.
“As if you don’t already know.”
“But why me ?“
“You are one of the smartest beings in the universe, if you don’t know the answer, then…” he trails off, shaking his head as he sighs.
“Nevermind, this was a mistake.”
He stands up but before he can walk away, Nedzu speaks up.
“What if there really isn’t one?”
The boy’s face darkens.
“Then this is all meaningless”
And this time Nedzu doesn’t stop him as he watches the boy leave.
When he stares back down at the chessboard, analyzing their paused match, he chuckles to himself quietly.
“I would have lost in 4 moves,” he taps his own queen, causing it to fall. “Not bad Ninth.”
5.
One early spring afternoon Midoriya Izuku disappeared without a trace. One moment he was there, and the next one he wasn’t. And the world moved on without him. Kept spinning without the nerd’s mumbling behind him, without his trembling smile as he stared him down when he thought Katsuki was doing unjust. And Katsuki tried too. But still, the nerd's shadow seemed to cling to him.
When Aldera Middle School got shut down a few weeks before graduation for having ties to a villain organization, Katsuki had glanced back at the empty seat and flinched when he remembered nobody was there.
During their first hero lesson, when All Might had come through the door he had almost expected the nerd to fanboy behind him. (And oh what a painful conversation that had been when he had admitted to his therapist that he had always thought that the nerd would become a hero without a quirk or not). But the excited face that looked back at him as he turned around wasn’t him.
After some time he acknowledged the hurt. The thought that in another life the nerd would have seamlessly fitted into the class, joking with his classmates and standing next to him during an exercise with that infuriating beaming smile of his. That he would have been with them as they picked out their hero names.
He tried to tell himself that the nerd wasn’t dead - he couldn’t be, but every time when his mother invited the nerd’s mother and her cries echoed up the stairs to his room that belief was harder to cling to.
He couldn’t be. Katsuki would have known. Right?
When Aizawa starts their ethics lesson on the topic of Quirk Discrimination and the statistics for quirkless people comes up, Katsuki splinters the pen he had been holding into tiny pieces, the plastic digging into his skin. It’s only when he stares at his bandaged hand after class that he for the first time tells one of his classmates about the nerd. About how in a better world he would have been here.
It’s after that that something settles in him and he finally takes his therapist's advice to his heart.
He will be better. For the nerd.
It‘s a Tuesday afternoon when he sees him. It had been a Tuesday afternoon when the nerd went missing.
It‘s something the nerd used to do. People watching. Analyzing their behavior and tics, looking for obvious mutations, and trying to guess what their quirk is. When they were younger - before Katsuki messed up - they made a game out of it and the nerd had always succeeded.
Now that he can see past his past stupid belief that it was creepy, he can actually see the usefulness of it all for hero work.
When he told his therapist about it she had recommended using it as a way to manage his anger. Focus on something else when the nerves are about to fry.
With time he subconsciously sought it out even when not furious with the world. It calmed him down. Reminded him of the nerd.
Sometimes he imagined the boy was next to him and muttering and bouncing theories off with him.
It’s July 15th. It‘s been exactly 445 days, 1 hour, and 37 minutes since anybody has seen even a single hair of the nerd. It‘s also his birthday.
Katsuki passed his written and practical exams. He should be happy.
But still, there‘s this bitter taste on his tongue, like when caramel burns. He hasn‘t lived without it for the last 445 days, 1 hour and 42 minutes.
He calms himself down with a shaky breath and focuses his attention outside on the platform opposite him.
There‘s a girl anxiously tapping her leg and every time she does a spark of energy sizzles in the air, reminding him of Kaminari. A few times someone brushes too close to her and their hair gets static. It almost seems like she has an electric field surrounding her. He should ask Kaminari whether he has any sisters and cousins.
Next to her, standing a few steps away is a boy with a bat mutation, his ears twitching every time someone makes a sound. His eyes seem droopy and he’s almost asleep on his feet. Katsuki hides a wince. Most bats are nocturnal and it wouldn’t take a professional to see that the boy seemed to have inherited that trait.
After that… His brain skips the ones with nothing to work with but somehow his sight catches on the boy directly opposite to him.
He‘s wearing a hoodie with a jacket over it, and his hair is a dark color. If Katsuki focuses he can see a few white strands mixed in them. He‘s about Katsuki‘s age and his right cheek is covered by scar tissue. Running across the bridge of his nose is another scar. Katsuki wonders if there are more hidden under his clothes. He doesn’t seem to pay much attention to the people around him, instead frowning at his phone.
It’s only when a mechanical voice announces the soon arrival of his subway the boy looks up and Katsuki’s spit gets stuck in his throat.
He knows these eyes. Has never forgotten them.
It’s the same green that is proudly displayed against his hero suit, the same green that will haunt him for the rest of his life.
He opens his mouth to say something, anything but it’s like all air has left his lungs. He chokes as he watches the subway slowly arrive and only when it is about to cover the boy he forces out a loud, “Izuku!”
The boy’s gaze snaps in his direction and when Katsuki sees the recognition in them he knows he’s right - he finally found him - but then his face gets covered by the train.
He lets out a curse, smothering down his instinctive reaction to explode the excessive sweat lining his hands, and ignores the announcement for his own subway as he races down the stairs to the other station.
But when he arrives, the subway has already departed. And the nerd is nowhere in sight.
It takes him everything to not sink to his knees as he huffs out of breath, slightly doubled over. He suppresses a scream as hot tears spring to his eyes.
He was so close. How are they supposed to believe him now?
The sound of steps draws his attention and he’s about to bark at whoever is about to pretend they care, but when he turns around it’s him.
He’s silently crying, a soft smile on his face and it’s the first time Katsuki hears his voice in 445 days, 1 hour and 56 minutes.
“I’m home Kacchan.”
+1
Inko sits down on the park bench with a heavy sigh, setting down her grocery bag next to her.
It’s Izuku’s birthday. And also the second time she will celebrate it alone. Ever since Izuku had gone missing, she hadn't brought it over her heart to go to Mitsuki’s on Izuku’s birthday. There’s always this little voice in her head that tells her ‘What if this is the day and you aren’t even there to greet him?’
Tomorrow she will head to Mitsuki and cry her heart out, but today she will make Katsudon and try to be strong. It’s getting more difficult with each passing day. But she can’t give in and admit defeat, can’t admit that her boy is dead. After all, what is she living for then?
No, Izuku can’t be dead.
She just wishes she could hear his voice for one last time.
She leans back, staring at the sky when she gets torn out of her thoughts by someone sitting down next to her.
It’s a boy about Katsuki’s age, wearing a surgical mask. His hair is dark with a few white strands and peeking out under the mask are scars. He reminds her so much of her Izuku it hurts.
The boy notices her staring at her and Inko flushes a little as she tries to explain herself.
“I’m sorry, it’s just..” she sighs. “You remind me a lot of my son, it’s his birthday today.”
The boy just nods and his gaze drifts to the grocery bag between them.
“Ah, I’m making Katsudon today,” she explains quickly. “It… was his favorite food.”
She gulps as she lowers his gaze down to the grocery back, gripping it slightly.
Maybe it’s time she gave up. Everyone but her thought Izuku was dead after all. Every time she visited Mitsuki, Katsuki didn’t even come down to say hello.
The boy clears his throat and when he speaks his voice sounds throaty.
“Is he waiting for you at home?”
Inko lets go and turns away, not wanting the boy to see her cry.
“No,” she says through tears. “But that’s okay.”
“He’s a bad son.”
Inko’s lips wobble.
“No, he was the best son I could ever ask for.”
She blinks back tears as she stands up, grabbing the grocery bag.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she says, blinking back tears before she turns back around.
She drops the grocery bag in shock.
The boy pulled down his surgical mask to reveal the rest of his face and a soft smile, tears in his own eyes. Her boy.
“I’m sorry I made you wait, Mom.”