#EVERYONE can adopt Billy if you think hard enough. Khoa can be paired with EVERY unruly child if you try

[zorilleerrant]

Khoa never thought he’d have another son. There were apprentices, of course, with distance between student and master, but never anyone he’d allow to see his true face, not even in a game, not even in a test to see if they recognized him without his mask.

Billy can recognize him no matter the mask.

Is it so strange? It can’t be. People all over the world since time immemorial have seen themselves in their children. His parents did, with every step he took. Of all the parents he knows – good and bad – they find themselves in the younger generation, and that’s meaningful to them. Not a kind of love he’s ever pursued. Even finding the good within the obligation took so much work that it still doesn’t seem to fit, when he wants to help the boy.

He's known that Captain Marvel wasn’t real. Anyone can see that from the too smooth complexion, the jerkiness of movement like animation pulling him into the uncanny valley. Like Superman he’s a public hero, and like most public heroes he puts on a performance to dazzle and reassure. Khoa, like Bruce, prefers to stick to the shadows, and it all could’ve ended there, neatly, one job together and ways parted like closing a file.

But Khoa’s had much longer than Billy to recognize people regardless of their mask. He was good before the training and he knew the necessity of it, but Billy. Billy hasn’t had the training, just that same childhood knack.

Billy has the same furrowed brow that smooths into an easy smile, cherubic cheeks gleaming to convince the adults around him that he knows his way. The gentle voice that reassures people he won’t be a bother. He helps his fellow students with their homework and their hobbies; he guides his siblings in how to make a sandwich with the last of the peanut butter. Ever helpful, so he doesn’t stand out. So they won’t kick him out.

He’s like Khoa when he was small, knowing something was missing deep inside of him, turning and turning to catch it, a dog chasing his own tail. So he acted, and he befriended everyone he could, because if they liked him well enough they’d never turn on him. Billy’s been turned on, once or twice. Khoa can see it in the way the smile doesn’t always reach his eyes. In the way his hands dart in and out before anyone can see.

It’s no wonder he can put on a whole different self and charm the world when he’s learned at the feet of public schools how to look his best. How else would he learn, if not through trial and error? Khoa could see that, in the adult, but it’s different, looking at a child. Someone who still has years to go before he stops needing people completely. Someone who could benefit from having a teacher willing to be gentle about imparting lessons.

It’s different, looking at this too-friendly boy and the shadows in his eyes that haven’t yet faded with age.