Hate. Hate is a strong word, but it was the perfect one to describe how you felt about yourself. Ever since you could remember, that burning emotion was always there, nagging, and eating away at you. Your powers were hard to control, and oftentimes, the outcome was catastrophic. It was self-destructive and vicious. You viewed yourself as a danger to yourself and others.

You joined The Boys in hopes of doing any sort of good with your powers. It never really changed the way about yourself, but it was better than wallowing in your doubts all the time, because some good did come out of becoming a vigilante. You met Hughie. He was the first member of the team that you truly connected with. He was nervous around you at first, as he always is, but it didn't take too long for him to warm up.

Hughie was able to pick up things that some of the others weren't. He noticed how you distanced yourself, how you never celebrated after a successful mission, and how you were hesitant to do certain things that required your powers. Of course, he wasn't a mind reader, so he didn't know exactly what was going on… but he had a pretty decent idea. Especially now, when everyone else was devouring a shit ton of pizza and you refused even a single bite, preferring to go off and sit on the couch alone. In the darkness. Without the TV on. Maybe you were being a bit melodramatic, but there was a close call during the latest mission that was too close for comfort.

“Hey,” Hughie chirped up from behind you, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he chuckled nervously. “Um…” he'd come over to check up on you, but now he felt somewhat conflicted. He didn't know what to do or say. He didn't want to make things worse.

“You doing alright?” He eventually settled for the simple question, his body language slowly loosening up as he gazed down at you, his brows creased in worry.