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He was hurt. It hurt. It hurts so god damn bad. At night he'd lie wake trying his best not to scratch the scar and when the pain fades out it's replaced by the gnawing in his stomach. He felt like vomiting but it wasn't her fault. She loved him. She's the only one who ever dared to stand between him and endeavor. Father's the one who drove her to insanity under the power of her blows. She was his savior.
"His left side is unbearable."
No! No no no! It's just because he reminded her of father. So it's still father's fault. Or maybe it's his fault for scaring her and and looking like father. Yay, yay it's his fault not hers. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves him. She loves.... Then he drifted to sleep
Years later when he's 15 he'd still had yet to visit her. It was hard to find time with his strict training regiment and advanced tutoring, or so he said. But he knew that he wasn't ready to see her. No matter how many times he said told himself it was Endeavors fault for hurting her, his fault for looking the way he does, the universes fault for trapping them to this pain full existence. He still sees that crazed look in her eyes, still feels her nails dig into his scalp, every tremble that wreaked through her body. So he lies some more, trying to shake the feeling as he walks up to the hospital.
No matter how scared he is she deserves to see her son. No matter how scared she is, he deserves to see his mom. So with a delicacy he knocks on her door and for a second he stops breathing. When she whispers two words, so quiet he can barely hear "come in." the fear sets in. And he knows the truth even if he can't say it. He opens the door and he wants to cry. He wishes he could cry, like she is as she looks at him, but weapons don't cry. He walks to her bed and kneels in front of it, looking up at her shaking form just like he used to. "Oh Shoto." She cries, voice laced with sadness and choking on each syllable. "My baby, I'm so sorry. Mommy's sorry sweetie." And he wants to say it's not your faults like he always has but as he opens his mouth the only sound is a whimper; pathetic.
It's her fault, there's no more lying. Even she can admit it. It's her fault and it hurts but her loves her. And she loves him right? But it's her fault. "I love you" he whispers but it's choppy.
"I love you too, more than you could know."
It's her fault but she loves him. And she didn't mean it. And even though it hurts if he doesn't lie maybe it can heal. It's her fault but he- no they can move past it, together. "It's you fault and one day I'll forgive you. But today it's
hurts."
"I'm sorry."
"I know. I need a little more time to heal but for now I just want to hold you hand. Is that okay mom?"
She smiles, and Shoto had forgotten what that looked like, it feels brighter than the sun even though it's small and bittersweet. "Of course sweetie." And for the first time in a long times Shoto cries.