Seven Mothers: All Seven Of My Mothers Are Heavenly Goddesses?!

I trudged back into the room, a stack of neatly folded clothes balanced in my arms. Most of them were stretchable T-shirts and shorts, handpicked with survival in mind. If my clothes were going to suffer, they'd at least have a fighting chance. 

Elasticity was key; I wasn't about to let my favourite hoodies get stretched out beyond recognition.

"Here." I grumbled, setting the pile on the bed. "I picked the most 'accommodating' options."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she picked up a shirt, tugging at the fabric to test its give. 

"Wow, Luca. You really went all out with the elasticity, huh?" She stretched it dramatically, as if threatening to turn it into a hammock. "Afraid my 'pressure' might destroy your precious clothes?"

"I'm just trying to minimise casualties here...You know, protect my investments." I gave her a deadpan look. 

"So, what you're saying is you think that my stellar body is too much for your clothes to handle?" She raised a brow, lips curving into a mischievous smile, and her breasts looking like they were ready to burst out from her see-through clothes.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'm saying my clothes weren't designed for such advanced terrain." I waved vaguely at her figure. But before I could finish my thought, she grabbed the neatly folded pile out of my hands.

And then, to my horror, she threw them onto the bed in a chaotic heap and spread them all out on the bed.

I gawked at the mess, my eye twitching. 

"W-Why are you ruining my hard work? I just folded those!" I reached out desperately, trying to salvage what little order remained.

"Don't. Touch." But she shot me a sharp, warning glare.

I froze mid-reach, my hands hovering uselessly. Her expression softened into a mischievous smile that only spelt trouble. And then, without warning, she leapt onto the bed with the enthusiasm of a kid who just spotted a trampoline park.

"Wha—Mom!" I sputtered as she landed right on the clothes, arms outstretched, scattering everything even more. "Are you serious?!"

"Oh, I'm very serious, Luca." She giggled, already rolling around like a human steamroller. "This is exactly what I needed!"

She wasn't just rolling; she was making snow angels out of my clothes. Her arms and legs flailed joyfully as she flattened my shirts and shorts, completely oblivious to my suffering. Occasionally, she'd grab a bundle of fabric, hug it to her chest, and bury her face in it, inhaling deeply with a contented sigh.

"Mmmm, these smell like you, Luca." She murmured, her eyes closed, completely blissed out as if she were wrapped in the world's most luxurious blanket.

"What exactly are you doing right now, Mom?" I stared in dismay, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides. 

She peeked one eye open and grinned. 

"Making up for lost time." She stretched out her arms and legs, sinking deeper into the pile. "It's been ages since I've been able to enjoy your warm, familiar scent like this."

"That's weird, Mom...Even for you." I said as I watched her sniff all my clothes like a little doggy searching for a treat. 

"It's comforting." She corrected, playfully flicking a sock at me. "I swear, with this much of your scent and warmth, I'll probably have the best sleep of my life tonight." She nuzzled into a sweatshirt, her voice muffled. "Who needs a blanket when I can just burrow into all of this?"

"So, what, you're a rat now who lives in tunnels?" I raised a brow, suppressing a smirk. 

"Don't question the methods of a mother who's been deprived of her baby boy." She shot me a mock glare. 

"You know, there are less bizarre ways to reconnect...Methods that don't make you seem like a pervert." I crossed my arms, eyeing her sceptically. 

She ignored me, her fingers curling around a soft hoodie as she inhaled deeply. I was starting to wonder if she'd fallen asleep in there when she suddenly spoke again. 

"You think this is weird, huh?"

"Extremely." I nodded. "Anyone who doesn't is even weirder."

"Well, I'm not just doing this for today." She said, a nostalgic smile softening her features. "Back when you lived with us, whenever I got your fresh laundry, I'd always bury my face in it."

 "Wait, seriously?" My eyes widened, to which she chuckled, her eyes shimmering with affection. 

"It was just so comforting, Luca. Knowing you were there, safe, and that all those clothes still carried your warmth. It was my little habit— mother's way of holding onto her son just a bit longer." She hugged the clothes tighter. "And now that I've got this whole bundle, I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

But as her words trailed off, something shifted in her expression. The light in her eyes dimmed, the warmth fading into a quiet sadness. Her smile faltered, and a sullen look settled on her face.

I frowned, feeling a tightness in my chest. The change was jarring. She had just been rolling around like a kid in a pile of candy. Now, it was like she'd remembered something painful. 

"Hey…" I leaned down, gently pulling a sock that had gotten tangled in her hair. "What's wrong, Mom? Why do you suddenly look like you bit into a lemon?"

She sat up slowly, her fingers still clutching the fabric. She gave me a small, wistful smile, but her eyes remained heavy. 

"Promise me you won't tell the others I said this?"

"Tell them what?" I tilted my head with a curious look on my face.

"That I let something this embarrassing slip." Her smile wavered, a soft laugh escaping her lips, though it barely touched her eyes. "You know I'm actually fine with taking in your scent every once in a while. As long as I can take in your familiar fragrance every once in a while, I'm set for the next couple of weeks."

"...But your other mothers, on the other hand." I stared at her, waiting, knowing there was more to it.

She took a deep breath and continued, her voice softer now. "Some of your other mothers, I mean all of them…They're still struggling. They haven't gotten used to the fact that you're not home anymore...It's hard for them, Luca. It's hard for them to come to terms that their baby boy isn't with them anymore." Her gaze lowered to her hands, fiddling with a shirt hem. 

"Like sometimes, when no one's looking, they go through your old clothes. The ones you left behind...They would put them on their pillows at night, just to feel like you're still there." She revealed one of their secrets with a chuckle. "And even though they might have had the most hectic day or felt like they can't sleep at all, the moment they lay down on that pillow with a little bit of you on it, they sleep like babies, Luca...Like cute little babies." She said as she thought about how they turned into such adorable creatures when they slept, when they were all mature grown-ups.

 She then finally looked up at me and whispered,

"They miss you, Luca...W-We all do."

Hearing my mother's words, the air in the room grew thick. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to lighten the mood, trying to brush away the ache in her voice. "Mom, you don't have to be so dramatic. Every son eventually leaves home, right?" I forced a smile, hoping it would be enough. "It's just how life works."

She shook her head, a sad, calm smile on her lips. 

"Yes, Luca, every child leaves their own house at a certain point in their lives...But no son usually leaves home when he's just fifteen, and normally no mother has to see her son leave their home with bags in hand when they were just thinking of what they should make for lunch for school the next day."

Her eyes met mine, the weight of years behind and also thinking about the moment that I just announced that I was leaving the house without any warning whatsoever, which caught everyone off guard at that time and made them panic.

My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

My mother then reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my forehead, her fingers gentle as she said, "You were so young at that time, Luca. You weren't supposed to leave so soon...We thought we had more time with you." Her voice trembled, but she held it steady. "But you left…and no matter how much we called out to you, you didn't come back."

I felt a dull ache in my gut, a mix of guilt and regret gnawing at me. Her words were like a window opening to all the lost moments, all the years that slipped away while I was busy trying to be someone else.

"We spent those years worrying about you." She continued, her thumb tracing a circle on the back of my hand. "But we also lost something precious—time we thought we'd have. The time we wanted to see you grow, to watch you change, to just be with you."

Her eyes shimmered, not with tears, but with a sadness so deep it didn't need them. It was the kind of sadness that had lived with her for years, becoming part of who she was.

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come. What could I say to that?...Sorry didn't seem enough.

"Sometimes, I wish I could bring those years back." She admitted softly, her voice almost a whisper. "Even just for a little while." She then paused and looked up at me, her eyes glistening with hope—a fragile, yet radiant hope—as she continued saying, "But…Even if we can't bring those years back, we can still enjoy the time ahead. We can still enjoy them together…If you come back home with me...Come back home to us."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with a longing I hadn't realised was still so raw.