The cafeteria buzzed with its usual midday noise—chatter, clinking trays, laughter. But Seven barely noticed.
He wolfed down his meal like he was racing the clock, pushing up from the table so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. Ignoring the voices around him, he beelined for the exit.
"Seven!" Cordis's voice rang out behind him, her frustration trailing every syllable. She clicked her tongue, annoyed by how difficult he was being—again.
People turned to look, whispering, misinterpreting the scene. It didn't help that she was chasing after him, clearly agitated.
"It's important! Just give me a minute!" she called. Her walk turned into a jog, then a full sprint as they entered the hallway where fewer people lingered.
"Seven!" she yelled again, lunging forward and catching his arm. The force nearly made them both stumble.
"Would you stop and listen to me?" she hissed between clenched teeth, stepping in front of him with her arms spread wide.
"What are you doing?" Seven asked, his voice flat and eyes dull.
"I'm trying to talk to you!" she snapped, breathing heavily.
"I told you already—I don't want to talk. Just leave me alone." His voice remained emotionless, but his eyes—bloodshot and heavy-lidded—betrayed his exhaustion. Shoulders sagging, he turned to go.
"Your mother. She's here."
That stopped him cold.
He turned sharply. "Wh-what?"
---
Just outside the principal's office, Seven hovered at the door. His hand trembled above the knob, his ear pressed lightly against the wood.
And then—he heard her voice.
Warmth washed over him. He hadn't realized how cold he felt until that very moment.
He opened the door slowly.
There she was—his mother. Her back faced him, her long black hair flowing freely down her shoulders. Not her usual messy bun.
She turned at the sound, her expression softening immediately as she took in the sight of her son.
"Mum…" he breathed.
She opened her arms, and he collapsed into them. His face pressed into her chest as he inhaled her familiar scent—spice and comfort. God, he'd missed this. He never wanted to let go again.
"My boy…" she whispered, her hand stroking his white hair, fingertips gently rubbing his scalp.
She could feel it—how worn down he was. Her chest tightened.
"It's been hard on you, hasn't it?" she murmured, cupping his face in her hands and planting a kiss on his forehead.
---
He led her outside, toward the quiet garden behind the school. Somewhere they could talk properly.
The wind rustled softly. Despite the calm, his heart wasn't.
'Why are you here mum? They didn't, did they?' His mind raced.
She walked beside him in silence until finally, she asked, "You know… You could've told me everything over the phone, right?"
Seven stiffened. "Mum, I swear—it's not—"
"You don't need to explain," she interrupted gently, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "I'm your mother. That's all I need to know."
She paused, making sure he was really listening before continuing.
"I'm sorry you're going through this. But remember: to whom much is given, much is expected. God doesn't give us crosses we can't carry. You're stronger than anything life throws your way. So don't let this destroy you. Hard times will come, but you'll outlast them. Just keep going."
She smiled through the moisture welling in her eyes and patted his cheek softly.
"You can talk to me about anything, Seven. Real strength doesn't mean staying silent when you're hurting. Asking for help… that's brave."
He looked at her, eyes glimmering with tears.
"I love you, Mum…"
"I love you more," she replied, laughing lightly as he leaned in again—awkward but sincere. She always found it adorable when he tried to show affection. He was getting better at it, and she didn't regret a single thing.
They were wrong.
"No one knows him like I do," she thought. "How could they think otherwise?"
---
"…And when I carried him in my arms—"
Rosa's voice trailed off as she looked at the black-robed man beside her, her eyes shining with conviction.
"His eyes were glassy grey, Padre. But when I looked into them, I saw myself. And all the fatigue I'd felt—it vanished."
A soft smile played on her lips.
"The clouds parted that day. It felt like a new dawn. And I swear it wasn't just sunlight reflecting in his eyes… It was something else. Something golden. Fleeting—but real. That glow alone is enough to tell you: my son is special."
A long pause followed. The priest took his time, digesting her words.
"Rosa," he said finally. "Be honest with me, are you afraid of him? Do you believe he's possessed?"
Also, I'm not scared of him… I'm scared for him." she corrected calmly. "Stacy? Correction, was possessed, and that will be the last time.
"But how can you be so sure?"
"I just know," she replied firmly, her tone sharpening. "Don't ask me to explain what can't be explained. I just know"
The priest gave her a look like she'd lost her mind. He sighed and pushed forward.
"But that's not enough. Beyond your claims that he can see orphanim, cherubim, and seraphim—are there other things I don't know? Something more concrete to back all this?"
"It's not a claim," Rosa said, her voice suddenly unwavering. "You saw his sketchbook, didn't you?"
She leaned forward, her tone serious now.
"No seven-year-old who can barely read should be able to draw biblical beings in that kind of detail. I can't do that. You can't either—can you? Just that alone sets him apart."
The priest opened his mouth but said nothing.
"The devil is a master of manipulation," he warned, finally. "Your love might be clouding your judgment. We think an exorcism might be necessary—not to harm him, but to protect him."
Her expression tightened.
"This doesn't sound like a suggestion anymore… so I'll speak plainly. My son will not undergo an exorcism. If he's struggling, I'll help him—as his mother. No one gets to touch him without going through me first."
She took a deep breath, her voice gentler now.
"What's happening with Seven might be mysterious… but it's not evil. It's divine. I feel it. I know it. No one sees what I see in him."
"Rosa…" the priest murmured, unsettled by her passion.
"These trials," she said, looking him in the eye, "they're meant to forge him. So all I'm asking for is your prayers. He has a hard path ahead. I won't add to his pain with ritual chants and holy water, treating him like he's broken."
"Since when has exorcism been wrong?!" Father Ferreira snapped, his brows furrowing. "It's a preventive measure!"
"They can try," Rosa shot back, her voice rising. "But I've seen what my son can do. I won't stand in his way. Whatever was meant to happen—has happened. And I've read what those rituals can do to young minds. Don't try to sugarcoat it."
She stood by her words, and she had never been prouder of what her son had become.
---
Standing at the school gate, Seven reluctantly bade his mum goodbye, their hug lingered as her warmth grounded him one last time. Sighing as he watched her disappear in the distance, he turned to go back only to find Cordis wiping her eyes behind him...
"It's all so sweet," she explained innocently, shrinking under Seven's cold gaze.
"You could have just led with "your mum is here." You know that, right?" Seven said with drowsy eyes. It has been a long day.
Cordis blinked. "Is that an apology?"
Rolling his eyes, he walked past her.
She screamed at his receding figure:
"It's a nice start, really. I'll accept it once you join our tent this weekend during the school campout!"
She threw her hands in the air
"Did you hear me?!" P