Goro: Little Begging Boy

God, he tried. He tried really fucking hard, on this night of all nights, to not be a fucking weirdo who took off and hid in the bushes while everyone else was having a good time.

Well, it wasn't bushes, in this case; it was rocks. There were some big ones on the beach, easy to hide behind, especially after dark, especially when everyone else was drunk, busy talking with each other, not in a big old group but in pairs and trios—no one would notice him missing for a while.

He curled up on the sand, hugging his knees and hiding his face between them.

*It's your fault I'm like this,* he thought to Jasmilia. Like she was dead, and he could pray to her.

He'd hoped it might be freeing, having somebody to blame. Someone to point to and say, *You. You're the reason I have all these problems. I didn't have a choice. You did this to me.*

He could only ride the high from that a little while, though, before his heart sank again. Just didn't satisfy him for long. It might've been Jasmilia who kicked him onto the path that led him here, but he was the one who kept walking it. She hadn't taught him how to have a family, no. How to be a part of a group. But he figured he could’ve fucking learned it by now. Jasmilia wasn't standing around, forcing him to run off and hide.

He could've toughed it out. Made himself stay at the reception.

…and gotten all shaky, and panicky, and fucking broke down in front of everyone, taking attention away from the two people who deserved it? Yeah, no. This was the lesser of two evils, after all.

He unfolded himself some, sitting cross-legged instead of in a ball. He'd managed to avert the breakdown, this way. Just needed a minute.

He breathed long breaths and studied the reflection of the moon on the water, picking distractedly at the twine around his finger. The sound of voices and laughter and glasses clinking started to make his heart rate go up again, but he could talk himself out of it, maybe.

*I don't belong there,* was what he'd always told himself, but really—really, he fucking did. He'd fucking been invited, hadn't he? What, like Hansel fucking Bell and Mikhail fucking Haeth were gonna ask someone they didn't actually like to come to their vow renewal? Sure as hell didn't hold up under scrutiny.

*That's my family over there,* he told himself. *That's my fucking family.*

Ah, yeah, nope. There came the panicky feeling again. Man, he was really bad at this. Maybe failing to learn how to have a family when you were young was a lifelong affliction, after all.

He kept tugging at the twine. And then, without so much as a pop or a snap or any other sound at all, without any kind of warning… it broke.

Just like that.

He stared at it, now pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He blinked in shock, and a little distressed cry escaped his throat.

Fine. It was fine. He wrapped it carefully around his ring finger again, and held it in place while he hummed his mending cantrip. He breathed a sigh of relief watching the bit of fiber rejoin, making a loop. It didn't mend very much, though. Looked thin and weak. He kept humming, but couldn’t get more than a lone thread keeping it together. He gave it another tug to test, and it popped apart again.

It… wasn't really that surprising. He'd been wearing it for weeks now. Fiddling with it all the time, bathing with it on, fighting with it on. The string had been worn bald. There just wasn't enough material left to make it strong again, magic or no.

He almost lurched to his feet right then, picturing himself rushing up to Hansel, waving around the broken string, saying, *You gotta give me another one.*

God. That was fucking stupid. Hansel would do it, yeah. He'd humor him, unraveling a new piece from his wrist and tying it around Goro's finger, just like the first time.

But nah. Goro wasn't gonna fucking do that. Felt pathetic. He was like some dumb kid, playing at getting engaged. And on the night of an actual fucking wedding, no less. Who was he fucking kidding?

Playing at having a family.

He tossed the twine away and curled up again, arms shielding the back of his head.

He gave himself a few more minutes. Slowly, it started to sink in that he wasn't going to feel any better if he stayed out here. He'd spent too much of his damn life already curled up and hiding, alone.

He rubbed a hand over his face and glanced in the direction he'd tossed the twine. There it was, made obvious by the light of the moon, fluttering in the sea breeze but still waiting for him to pick it up. He did, shoving it in his pocket as he stood.

He emerged from the cover of the rocks, walking back to where everyone else was gathered. Amari was standing in front of the drinks table, pouring two glasses of wine; one for herself and one for Joan, probably. Goro beelined for her, so fast it made her look up in alarm. The surprise faded quickly, and she opened her arms to him.

He grabbed onto her tight enough to make her give a little *ooh*. She didn't seem bothered by it, though. She held him, rubbing his back.

"Mama," he said.

"Yes, my sweet boy." Didn't sound like a prompt. Wasn't a *Yes?*, but a *Yes. You are correct.*

"You're really my mom, huh?"

"Oh, yes." She responded swiftly, confidently, like she'd known he was going to ask. "I'm the best kind of mom. The kind who chose you, and who will never, ever, ever give you up."

She'd told him that when he went to see her after meeting Jasmilia, too. He'd said to her, *You're my real mom,* and kept saying it over and over, trying to convince himself more than her. She'd agreed every time, adding, *I chose you, and I'm the one who gets to keep you.*

"Why'd you choose me, anyway?" he asked, not letting up on the hug.

"Well, you were the best, of course." There was a lighthearted note in her voice. Almost teasing, but the kind of teasing where the person really thought it was true. "The only one who would do. The perfect son for me."

"Psh." He rested his head on her shoulder, hunching over to make himself fit.

She kept rubbing his back, humming thoughtfully. "I used to think Helm brought you to me. Now I'd say it was Eldath, I suppose. Or, goodness, maybe even Mask."

"It was Mask," Goro said. No question.

"Or maybe—I feel a bit differently about some things now, ever since I learned that Helm died. Maybe it was just luck."

"No such thing as luck. It's all Mask."

She patted the back of his head. "Well, if you have it all figured out, what did you need to ask me for?"

He shrugged. "Just 'cause Mask is the reason we met each other doesn't mean it's the reason you picked me."

"Hmm. That's a fair point, yes. I didn't need Mask to tell me you were the best. I could just tell."

"*Psh.*"

"What on earth is that sound? Are you coming down with something?" She pretended to feel his forehead with the back of her hand, and he batted her away, snorting and skipping back a couple steps.

"God, Ma, give it a rest."

"I can't. It's a mother's job to worry." She smiled, gave his cheek a quick pinch, then picked up her two wine glasses. She looked over at Hansel and Mishka, curled up together under the wedding arch. "Your boyfriends miss you. You should go say hello."

"They saw me twenty fucking minutes ago." That, and they only had eyes for each other tonight. He didn't want to get in the way of that. Definitely not with his gloomy-ass face.

Amari, though. Damn lady could read his fucking mind. "Goro," she said, admonishing him. "If they didn't want to be with the people they love right now, they would have gone somewhere else to be alone."

He opened his mouth to argue. He was still trying to think of what to say when Amari walked past him, returning to her seat alongside Joan.

"Fine," he said, more to himself than to her. 'Cause he really couldn't fucking think of an objection to what she'd said. Fucking made sense.

He had to be weird about it, anyway. Walking straight up to them? Nah. He zigzagged. Tried to stay out of their direct line of sight, somehow, even though it wasn't like there was a lot of cover. He wasn't gonna go so far as to duck behind chairs and whatever.

But he could make it look natural, and shit. Unintentional. Meandering his way over there. Oh, hey—fancy seeing you two here.

God. So fucking dumb. He snorted at himself, softly.

He knew what his body language looked like as he approached. He could feel himself returning to his old ways, automatically, instinctually. Muscle memory. Shoulders rounded, arms wrapped around himself. Chin ducked but eyes alert, bright and attentive and wary. A little begging boy, stepping sideways up to a nice-looking family with lots of food.

Hansel and Mishka were sitting on the ground, wrapped around each other. They looked up at the same time, as he got closer. Mishka reached one arm out, fingers beckoning. "Koshka."

Goro dropped to his hands and knees and crawled the last few feet to them. They looked so fucking happy—they'd looked so fucking happy all night, and it wasn't diminished by seeing him. He couldn't help but smile back, climbing into their arms.