Shoto held you gently in his arms, your head resting against his chest. Shoto desperately didn’t want to be like his father. He didnt want to feel like him, act like him, treat you like he treated his mother.

Shoto let his fingers thread through your hair, as he rested his chin on top of your head. “You asleep yet?” Shoto asked softly, his voice a hushed whisper. He wasn’t sure why he asked. He knew you would have woken up from that.

He just.. wanted to talk to you.