[VOXTO] Pawn's Grasp

xi : parental love

 ★。🍰＼🃏／🫖。★

A/N: i reread chapter 10, and I just realized that I forgot to NAME the last casualty. I edited it, go back and check if you want to, but it also says in this chapter!

(but gosh, I'm horrible at writing romance scenes, bare with me, I promise the ride will get better along the way. [I'm not too good at promises either, so..])

 ★。🍰＼🃏／🫖。★

♕

🂱

♕

🃟

♕

You looked so pretty when love was good

You gave your love, but not unconditionally

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As Shoto stepped on the stone doorstep, he took off his shoes, and silently creaked the door open, tiptoeing inside his house. He picked up his shoes, and placed them on the rack, right next to the boots he loved to sport while kicking ass in his demon slayer missions. (a necessary, stylish ego booster.)

"Mama..?" Shoto called out, a hesitant shake evident in his tone. He looked around the house, though she was nowhere to be found. The slayer even made an effort to make his footsteps louder, hoping that they'd come to him, as well. The only place he hadn't checked was the kitchen. But, why would she be there? Just in case, he rushed to the kitchen, hoping that the court jester didn't lie to him, after all.

There, his mother was, sitting in the elevated bar chair that belonged to the marble kitchen island. His father was standing up next to her, patting her back and whispering inaudible words as she had her head lowered. She held a dark look on her face, not even looking up at Shoto, making him uneasy.

"Mama, Dad, I'm here.." Shoto murmured, slightly breaking the silence.

His father sighed. "Your mother's had a rough night, just go to bed."

"You're here, after how long?" His mother spat in a distasteful tone. "You were on the missing list, not the casualties, Shoto." Her voice was dead, hoarse. Puffy eyes accompanied this.

"All you had to do, was wait one fucking night, was the corset that heavy on you?" She spat, looking up to look at the wide-eyed slayer. Spikes and spears were thrown at the tension in the room, but nothing could break it, not with the everlasting war that was started with a couple of remarks. With those words, the elegance in her once distinguished portrait had vanished completely. Her hair was now loose and messy; the braids ran loose behind her ears.

"I-" Shoto began, lips opened but he couldn't find the right words to speak, the right melody to sing. Right now, words would never work, as the white flag that symbolized peace was already dipped in black ink. Words could never get through to a persistent leader.

What was he supposed to say? The king told him to~? Like hell they'd believe that. His life was filmed by the directors of his life; his parents wrote the script for his story. Every little action was a pull from the puppeteer, one whose strings only got tighter as time went on. Restriction was something he lived in, and freedom was a false sense. Something within a hair's length, but always unreachable. False hope was taunting him with every inch.

"You what?" Shoto's mom never let her gaze linger on anything but Shoto. He couldn't cry, but his mother wouldn't notice his reddening eyes. Her piercing stare poked holes in his back; invisible to everyone in the room but him.