The boy stood by the hospital bed, looking down at the woman who laid on the bed, looking like she had weathered through a thousand storms.
"... Mom? I... I-I'll do good. I'll be the best..! The best schools, I'll do it all! Just-!"
She laughed weakly, shaking her head on the bed, the sheets rustling with her movement.
"My son... I know you will. Always remember, you can do anything. Promise me."
"I promise!"
That was the last time the boy spoke to his mother.
The boys' family was thrown into grief for years. The boy turned into a teen. He studied hard, tried his best. He wanted to keep the promise to his mother. He had to keep it.
————
"Son. Meet your new mother."
One late night, the boy was brought to the table by his father. Next to him stood an older lady. Smooth skin with wavy black hair. Her eyes seemed to hold wisdom and kindness at a glance.
"I'll let you introduce yourself to her. I'll be right back."
When the father left, the boy tried to speak.
"It's nice to meet you, I'm-"
"I don't care."
The facade of the lady dropped. No longer there stood a kind mother, but a devil in disguise.
"I expect only the best from someone I'm going to be calling 'son'. Alright, kid?"
"... yes."
————
More years passed. The boy tried to succeed. For his late mother, for his new mother— for his father. He convinces himself that he can do anything. That he could do anything.
But through those years, the boy stopped showing much emotion.
The boy would try to convince himself that he could do it. Even if the odds were insurmountable. Even if he never believed in it himself. Small quips, humor only he would get. He would always keep it in the back of his head. All so he wouldn't lose himself completely.
In reality, he couldn't be himself. His step-mother wouldn't allow him any emotions. 'Be perfect.' Those words always rung in the boy's mind like a funeral bell—slow, heavy, inescapable.
He would never truly be 'himself'. He would be cheery. He would try to make those laugh, himself laugh. So that he could fit in. For all the boy knew, the true him was gloomy. Unserious, unfunny. And he would do everything to hide it away from those he admired.
But the boy found his solace in games.
Honkai: Star Rail was one of those games. He would play it, hours on end. He loved the characters. Their story, their designs, everything. He couldn't help but feel a connection. Belobog struck a choir in him, hope and resilience against the adversity they faced.
Maybe he, too, could be like them one day.
The boy woke up in his room. Groggily lifting his head from the desk, his eyes land on the failed exam paper he received in the afternoon. 64/100 on his test. Two questions shy of passing. He had slumped onto his desk after meeting with his parents.
"I can't do anything, can I?" The boy looked at his step-mother, asking the dreaded question.
"You can't. You'll never be able to do anything in your life. Stop saying 'I can', stop lying to yourself. You. Won't. Succeed," the older woman lashed out, before storming off around the corner of the room, not sparing a glance back.
His room was messy from the days he spent in it, studying for the test. The boy didn't have the time to clean it.
Footsteps pass underneath his room, crossing the threshold before the light seeping from underneath the doorframe vanish.
The boy doesn't talk to his father anymore. He never wants to talk to his step-mother, either.
"If only... I was in a game. I could be me."
The boy slinks out of his chair, turning off the lamp on his desk. He walks over to his bed, plopping down on it, sinking his head into his pillow. He would clean his room tomorrow.
"I miss mom."
The boy finally closes his tired eyes.