Smoking cats - shinsero

Unveiling the Past

The apartment was quiet except for the occasional hum of the fridge and the soft breathing of Tipi, who was curled up in her usual spot at the foot of the couch. Sero sat across from Shinsou, the weight of their earlier conversation still lingering in the air. He had opened up about his own struggles, but there was something in Shinsou's eyes - a guarded sadness, a story yet untold.

Shinsou was sitting in the armchair, his posture tense as if he were holding something back. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his fingers idly tracing the faint scars on his arm. The silence between them felt heavy, like they were on the edge of something important, something that had been building for a while.

Ser cleared his throat softly, now wanting to break the fragile peace between them but feeling like there was more Shinsou needed to say.
"You've been quiet," he murmured, his voice gentle but probing.

The boy's hand stilled, but he didn't look up. His shoulders tensed slightly, as if debating whether or not to let the other in on the part of himself he rarely showed anyone.

"I don't usually talk about it," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"My part."

Sero didn't push, just waited, knowing that whatever Shinsou was about to say was something he had carried alone for a long time. He could feel the weight of it in the air between them.

After a long time, he spoke again, his voice low and uneven.
"My parents... they died when I was a kid."

Sero's heart clenched at the unexpected revelation. He hadn't known that. He hadn't known just how much the boy had been through, even at such a young age.

"I don't remember much about them," he continued, his eyes still focused on the floor.
"They were gone before I even understood what death really meant. I ended up in foster care, bounced around from place to place. No real family. Just... people who were paid to take care of me."

Sero didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet, letting the other speak at his own pace.

"It wasn't bad at first. I had a few foster homes that were decent, where I didn't feel completely alone. But... I never really belonged anywhere. And then, when my quirk manifested..." Shinsou's voice trailed off, a bitter smile twisting at the corner of his mouth.
"Let's just say people didn't take too kindly to a kid who could control their minds."

Sero's heart ached for him. He could only imagine how terrifying and isolating that must have been - being seen as a threat, as something dangerous, even before the boy had the chance to prove otherwise.

"I was... angry," Shinsou continued, his voice thick with emotion.
"All the time. At the world, at the people who abandoned me, at myself. I hated the way everyone looked at me like I was some villain in the making. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe they were right. Maybe I didn't belong here."

The black haired boy felt a know forming in his throat as he listened. He wanted to reach out, to touch him, to let him know he wasn't alone. But he knew that Shinsou needed to get this out, needed to say it in his own time.

"When I was younger, I didn't have anyone," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
"No one who really saw me, who understood. And it got too much, at one point. The anger, the loneliness... the feeling like I'd never be good enough, never be accepted."

Shinsou finally looked up, meeting the other's gaze. His violet eyes were filled with pain, a raw vulnerability that Sero hadn't seen before.

"I tried to end it."

Sero's breath hitched in his throat. His chest tightened painfully at the thought of the boy being so close to giving up, so lost in his own pain that he almost didn't make it through.

"I didn't think anyone would care if I was gone," the boy admitted, his voice barely audible now.
"I was just... tired. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending I was okay when I wasn't."

Sero's eyes stung with unshed tears. He couldn't imagine a world without Shinsou in it, couldn't imagine the pain that had pushed him to that point.

"I was in the hospital for a while after that," he continued, his voice growing steadier, though still laced with emotion.
"They didn't ask a lot of questions, just patched me up and sent me back to foster care. And for a long time, I just... existed. I went through the motions, but I didn't feel anything. Not until I found Tipi."

Shinsou glanced down at her, who was now curled up on his lap, completely unaware of the gravity of the conversation. A soft smile tugged at his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"I adopted her as a therapy animal after all that. She gave me something to live for, something to care about. And... in a way, she saved me."

The other swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion.
"Shin..."

Shinsou shook his head, cutting him off gently.
"It's not easy to talk about. But I don't want to keep hiding it from you. You deserve to know."

Sero reached out then, his hand covering Shinsou's, offering the comfort that words couldn't.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"For trusting me with this."

The boy's hand tightened around Sero's, and for a long moment, they just sat there in silence, the weight of their shared pain heavy between them. But there was something else too - something lighter, something fragile but real.

"You're not alone," Sero said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Not anymore."

The boy's lips twitched into a small, sad smile.
"Neither are you."

For a long time, they just sat there, holding onto each other, finding solace in the quiet understanding that they had both been through hell and somehow come out on the other side. They were both broken, scarred but their pasts, but together, maybe they could start to heal.

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