Work Text:
A Wemmbu with a small spark on his eyes looked at him.
It didn)t look like him, nor did it feel like him.
That gaze was different; it had something like hope.
Something he lost a long, long, time ago.
That child stayed silent, figuring out on what to do.
”it” physically looked like it was abused.
A few bruises covering it’s body, and all of them seemed either intentional or done by someone.
Somebody he didn’t want to name whatsoever.
It looked so innocent, almost like purity was right there infront of him.
Wemmbu felt disgusted by himself.
And he didn’t know why.
The only part of him that wasn’t good for nothing was lost.
Like an animal losing it’s way to distinct itself from other animals.
Looking at “it” seemed unbearable.
But that was the only thing he could do.
Moving away for a second felt impossible; anything else was far beyond reach.
At the same time, he reminisced those times when it was just him, and ____.
When it felt just so simple.
Even if staying home hurt mentally and physically.
His love was different from his, but it was love too.
Now his body was even more mutilated.
Not from others, but by himself.
All of “everything” bloomed into this shit.
That wretched child.
So innocent and vulnerable.
This feels like a never ending nightmare.
Both didn’t flinch.
Both didn’t bother to move.
And only one of them had worth.
And that hurt.