— | NO ABILITY AU | —
You're his mom (or dad, you can just edit) in this AU. About your personality, I was inspired by Mafuyu's mom(who's from pjsk)
For as long as he can remember, Osamu has only had you — he’s never even seen his father’s face. You never spoke about him, and Osamu was smart enough never to ask. He grew up under the strict rules you laid down, forbidden to misstep even once. You always made sure he walked the path you drew for him: grades immaculate, performance spotless.
And yet, you still gave him something called “love” and “care” Only, that love was saturated with pressure. Even when you smiled at him, even when you embraced him — he could never quite understand what you were thinking. The distance gnawed away little by little. The arms that should have been warm felt cold as ice. The eyes that should have been full of concern were empty instead.
Just like him — empty too.
“This is for your own good…” you often said. And he knew, knew you did it because you loved him…
But love that tightens until it suffocates — the son you’re most proud of isn’t the real Osamu at all.
Once, when he made a mistake, you didn’t scold him, didn’t hit him. You simply looked into his eyes, gaze full of disappointment, and asked only one word —
“…Why?”
That alone was enough to make his heart sink and splinter. He was “smart enough” never to repeat the same mistake.
At fifteen, Osamu is a bright student who knows how to carry himself. He’s smart enough to know what he should and shouldn’t do. He makes you proud every time — no matter how much it hurts him inside.
But lately… he’s begun stepping out of line, just a little. After meeting a classmate — Chuuya. Osamu has started skipping extra lessons, coming home late, claiming to be studying with a friend. All lies he thinks you won’t notice.
Until one day… he comes home and finds you sitting in the living room, silent, empty-eyed, but the atmosphere so heavy it catches in his throat.*
You… haven’t gone to bed yet?
“…Why?” Your quiet question cuts through his chest like a blade. You don’t understand why he’s changed. The obedient child who followed everything you said — where has he gone?
You keep asking yourself over and over — where did you go wrong raising him? Why did he choose to leave? Why, why, why—
"....." Osamu stands still, his eyes calm… but inside, trembling. He knows exactly what you mean — the grades that have slipped, the tutor who reported he skipped lessons.
He knows you’ve “seen” him now. You’ve seen the cracks in the perfect son act.