Of course, that dark part of my life was over now.
I'd stopped bringing women over, stopped chasing that hollow sense of distraction after realising that path wasn't the solution to the feelings I shouldn't be having. The clothes in front of me also hadn't been worn by anyone in a long time—they were like relics of a phase I'd outgrown.
But explaining all of that to my mother, who was lost in her own brooding thoughts, wasn't exactly easy.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to lift that cloud of sadness from her face, to let her know that her son wasn't the lost cause she thought he was. But before a single word could escape, there was a sudden whoosh of fabric.
Smack!~
I doubled over slightly, a stinging sensation blooming in my stomach. I blinked down to find one of those forgotten tops dangling from my torso like a victorious banner.
My mother had whipped me with it...A silky top, no less.
"Ah! What the—" I started to ask why my mother suddenly turned the cloth into a whip and attacked me, but the sharp glint I saw in her eyes when I looked up at her stopped me cold.
"Serves you right!" She huffed, crossing her arms like a queen who'd just disciplined her unruly subject. She then continued, saying, eyes narrowed, and her voice trembled just a bit, "You know, Luca, I came over here to have a good time with my son."
"...But you just had to drag me back to memories I'd rather not think about." She exhaled, shaking her head as she tried to forget about that part of my life.
She then looked back at me with a knowing but struggling gaze.
"Luca, I know you don't live like that anymore; I know that since you've already promised us that you would stop ruining yourself in that manner. But seeing these…" Her gaze flicked to the clothes, a shadow crossing her face. "These stupid mementos of that time—it still irks me."
Her fingers tightened around the damp fabric, frustration flashing in her eyes.
"And that's why you got the whip treatment, as I'd much rather dash out my frustration on you than think about those annoying thoughts too much...You have any problem with that?" She finished with a defiant glare, as if daring me to argue.
"I guess I deserved it, huh?" I rubbed my stomach, half-laughing, half-wincing.
She didn't reply immediately, just studied me with that stubborn frown. "You really do, Luca...You really do for hurting us so much by making us watch you hurt yourself in the past." But the hardness in her eyes softened just a fraction.
"I'm sorry, Mom. Not just for bringing up some unpleasant memories...But once again, I want to apologise for how I behaved in the past, not even caring about how you feel witnessing your only son ruining himself."
I let out a breath, my smile apologetic as I swore in my heart that I wouldn't become the horrible and selfish person I once was for the sake of pushing my mothers away again...Especially since there's really no need to push them away anymore, and instead I had to do the opposite and embrace them.
"Just don't do it again, Luca, okay?" Her lips twitched into something resembling a smile, though it was laced with lingering frustration. "I still don't understand why you changed, why my sweet boy became someone I could barely recognize. Someone who did things I never thought my baby would do. But…Just promise me you won't go down that path again."
She took a breath, steadying herself, then reached up and brushed my hair back with a tenderness that made my chest tighten.
"No matter what you're dealing with, no matter how heavy it feels, don't shoulder it alone. Come to me, or to the others. We'll figure it out together, okay?...You don't have to carry it all by yourself." Her smile, though fragile, held a strength that felt like home.
For a moment, the room settled into something more familiar, like the past wasn't so far away after all. The warmth of her hand on my hair, the gentleness in her voice, it was enough to make me forget everything else. I let my shoulders relax, sinking into the comfort of being coddled, of knowing she was here and everything felt right.
Pinch~
But then, out of nowhere, sharp fingers latched onto my cheeks, tugging with merciless precision. I yelped in surprise, the pleasant atmosphere shattering like glass.
"But you really do have some nerve, Luca." She declared, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Showing me evidence of the man you once were is one thing...But you also expect me to wear the same clothes as those random women you brought over to your house? What exactly are you trying to say—that we're the same? That your mother, who raised you for your whole life, is the same as the vixen you picked up from God knows where?"
I flailed my hands in sheer panic, my words muffled by the assault on my cheeks.
"N-No! It's not like that, mom! I didn't have a choice!" I managed to squeak out. "There's nothing else for you to wear at home! That's why I had no other option but to show you those clothes!"
"...Honestly! If I weren't so worried about you catching a cold in those clothes, I wouldn't have made such an obvious mistake!" I let out hoping that she would forgive me for my dumb decision.
She scoffed, finally letting go and giving me a look that sent a chill down my spine.
"Who said there's nothing for me to wear?" She challenged, arching a brow.
"Huh?...There is?" I blinked, confused.
She then smirked as her gaze drifted to the clothes I was wearing, and she said with a wistful glint in her eye, and she said,
"Of course. I can just wear your clothes until mine dry off...You can't possibly say that you don't have some extra clothes for yourself, right, when you have a cabinet dedicated just to women's wear?"
My brain short-circuited. My mind conjured up an image of her strutting around the house in one of my oversized hoodies, sleeves dangling past her hands, her hair tousled in a casual manner... Okay, that's weirdly adorable.
But then reality snapped me back....Wait, no.
I glanced at her figure—curves that were generous, to say the least...No scratch that; a body so plump and thick that one would think that they were a warm, bouncy castle with how every single part of her body, whether it may be her fat butt, big breasts, or juicy thighs, pushes back when you apply some force to it.
My clothes would surely be torn into pieces by the tension created by her obnoxious proportions, so I knew I couldn't let her wear my clothes.
I scratched my head, trying to find the gentlest way to put it, and hesitantly said,
"Uh… Mom, I don't think that'll work."
"And why not?" She narrowed her eyes, the warning sirens blaring in my head.
My survival instincts kicked in, but they were on vacation, apparently, since I said, "Well…Umm...Because…" My eyes flicked between her and my clothes, and I blurted, "You'd...Ahem…Stretch them out."
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Her smile vanished, replaced by the cold, dangerous calm of a storm about to hit. Her fingers cracked ominously.
"Oh?" She said, her voice as sweet as poisoned honey. "Are you saying I'm fat, Luca?" She leaned in, her eyes glinting like a villain's right before they hit the detonation button. "I dare you to say that to my face."
"No! No, no, no!" I waved my arms frantically, the panic in my voice climbing to opera levels. "It's not you; it's the laws of fabric! Fabric can only stretch so much! It's science! SCIENCE!"
"So now you're blaming fabric? Poor, defenceless fabric?" Her lips curled into a smile that was anything but friendly.
"Umm...Yes? I mean, no? I mean—" I was sweating like a marathon runner.
Before I could finish, a damp sock whipped through the air and smacked me square in the face.
"GAH!" I yanked the wet sock off, sputtering out the drops of fluids that entered my mouth, and then continued to ask her as if she was crazy, "Did you just sock me, Mom?!"
"That's what you get for trying to explain away my gorgeous figure with 'fabric limitations.'" She shrugged, smirking as she leaned back and forth to show her curves that she was rather proud of.
"I swear, you have a black belt in motherly violence." I groaned, rubbing my face.
She smirked, clearly proud of herself, and just as I thought the danger had passed, my mouth decided it wasn't done digging my grave.
"It's not like you're fat or anything, Mom. It's just…" I coughed awkwardly. "...You've got...Ahem...two extra obstacles up there that a guy like me doesn't have...And not just any sort of obstacles but ones that are quite distracting because of their sheer size." I gestured vaguely at her chest. "Trying to fit those into my clothes?...You'd probably suffocate."
She blinked, then glanced down at her own very generous assets as if considering the logistics in silence.
Then she scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder with exaggerated flair as she said to me,
"Oh, please. That's what your oversized T-shirts and hoodies are for...They're practically tents for my chest!"
I opened my mouth to argue— I liked to call those clothes 'relaxed fit', but before I could get a word out, she waved a dismissive hand as she ordered, saying,
"Enough excuses, Luca...Go fetch your mother something comfy to wear. Now, scoot, since I'm starting to get cold."
"B-But—"
She reached into her drenched bag, fingers curling around something suspiciously flimsy. When she pulled out a wet pair of underwear and held it up like she was considering airing it out, my soul left my body.
"Okay! Okay!" I yelped, spinning on my heel. "I'm going, I'm going!"
I bolted out of the room faster than I'd ever moved in my life, dignity trailing behind me like a lost sock. What was even worse was that I actually wanted to be hit by that piece of white underwear right on my face so that I could catch a whiff, but I decided not to expose my perverted intentions for now and backed off.
As I skidded down the hallway, I heard her chuckling behind me, no doubt savouring every second of my humiliation.
This woman, I thought, is a menace...But so was every single woman in my family in their own unique way, so it was my duty as their pitiful son to do their whimsical biddings.