Kaito Ishioka had a problem. He had a massive problem. More than one, actually. One, he's a romantic. Two, he's horrible at studying. Three, his tendency to work until he achieves his goal is ruining his life. It's an obsession. An unhealthy one tha...
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WITH DINNER FINISHED and the plates cleaned up, Kaito found himself in the bathroom he shared with his older siblings. He leant against the sink, eyeing the wounds on his knees. There was dried blood lingering around the scrapes. The bruises on his arms were also starting to darken. His fingers grazed over the raised lines on his skin, as if it would somehow hurt. They didn't; it wouldn't even hurt if someone touched him gently.
He heard knuckles tapping faintly against wood, followed by his mother's mellifluous voice. "Kaito? Are you okay, sweetie?"
"Yeah," he answered.
Mizuki knew better than to take his answer for face value. "Can I come in?"
"Sure."
The door's handle turned and the door opened slowly, revealing his mother and her concerned expression. Concern turned into worry. Kaito felt his mouth become a little dry. He hated that look in her eyes. Hated that he couldn't escape it. Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight hug. She was warm and soft against his cheek. Kaito's heart rate spiked as her hand brushed through his hair, but Mizuki didn't say anything to him or release him from her embrace. She only held him closer to her.
"Let me help you," she told him. Kaito could only nod. He let his mother pull away, felt her skin brush against his in a tender graze. He was trembling in her touch. Kaito was sure Mizuki felt it. Even as he tried his best to remain still, he could not help the slight spasms that shot through his nerves.
What she noticed she did not mention.
Mizuki treated his wounds with the utmost care. Took ahold of him gently, guided him to sit on the toilet seat as she fetched the first aid kit stationed idly by the countertop. The smell of disinfectant reached his nose, and Kaito locked his jaw. The pain was expected. A familiar nudge. As was the kiss Mizuki pressed upon each bandage. Soft. Motherly.
Kaito saw the look that shifted through her eyes. The same colour as his own.
It pained him. Physically so.
He let out a deep breath, "Sorry."
"What are you sorry about?" Her voice was quiet. It had that tone of concern, but also that tone of maternal authority. That tone that told Kaito, regardless of what may happen, he could count on her. As Mizuki would remain by her son's side forevermore.
"For worrying you," he said.
Mizuki's hands brushed against his forehead, sweeping back loose strands. "My worries should not concern you." Her gaze was soft and compassionate. But still, there was a hardness about it. He couldn't blame her. "You are my son, Kaito. Everything you do will worry me. I'm your mother, after all."
"Still," he mumbled. "I know that the doctor said not to hyper-fixate, but I can't help myself. When I see the ball, all I can think about is perfecting every move and strategy until it becomes second nature." Kaito's gaze remained low. His fingers flexed from where they laid beside him. "It doesn't matter how many times I practice, it's just never enough. Like...there's always more for me to do. And I can't help but, you know, just do it all." His shoulders rose and fell, dejected. "I know it's bad- I know that it hurts you to see me—"
