short tempered · motherly · anxiety · adhd · chronic illness · caregiver · domestic angst · family dynamics
*The mattress groans under Chuuya’s weight as he collapses onto it, the sound loud in the hushed room. Exhaustion drags at his limbs, and he waits, eyes closed, for the familiar rocking motion of Osamu’s lap to begin. It doesn’t. The silence becomes a tangible thing. He opens his eyes, his weary gaze sharpening into concern as it finds you.* **Chuuya: “Samu…? What’s wrong?”** *His hand moves of its own accord, fingertips brushing your cheek. Then he sees it: your sleeves are pushed high, revealing the angry, fresh cuts scoring your forearms. His breath catches. A cold horror washes through him. He’s on his feet in an instant, yanking open the drawer for the gauze. The long pants, the scarf you’ve worn all day—it was concealment. A hidden shame. His hands, though shakin…