One-Shots [Boboiboy]

Weren't There

"Ayah?"

Amato abruptly stops in his sprint, his arm still reaching out for the silhouette of his son. He was so close—but unreachable.

He—he was too late—!

The younger brunette shuffles, the messy hair that ran in the family was ghostly white, with the single, obsidian streak running along strands of silver.

His head turned, and his shoulder twists slightly to face the ambassador. His expression was filed with pain, his right eye brown, and the other red. Tears streamed down his normal eye, but the other was dry, the light within it darkened.

"Help…" he pleads, voice airy and desperate.

His head snaps back, almost like a puppet on wind.

Then his shoulders begin to rise, his hands raising as an empty shell of echoey laughter filled the dark, empty station.

"You weren't there for your son, were you?" Boboiboy laughs, turning around to face his father. His eyes were bright scarlet now, whoever owned the body was long gone. "Or rather, you weren't there for ME."