(GMR) CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: MOM, DAD, I’M A CAPE

Greg stood in the kitchen doorway, heart hammering like a jackhammer in his chest. His mom sat at the table in her robe, nursing a steaming mug of tea while flipping through a dog-eared copy of Women’s Health. Across from her, his dad hunched over his laptop, fingers tapping rapidly on the keyboard. From the angle of the screen, it looked like something equally boring. 

Classic Sunday morning stuff, especially with the quiet, and he was about to shatter that.

He cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said. But his voice cracked slightly, dread peeking through. “Can we talk?”

His mom looked up, her eyes warm and concerned in that way only moms could pull off, before she smiled gently. 

“Of course, honey,” she set the mug down. “Everything okay?”

His dad glanced up from over the rim of his glasses, noticing the seriousness of Greg’s expression. He closed the laptop without a word, his full attention shifting.

Greg swallowed hard, mouth dry. He could feel Team RWBY somewhere in the back of his mind, blessedly quiet, but still there. He appreciated the illusion of privacy. This was his moment.

“I… I need to tell you something,” he said. “Something big.”

His mom sat up straighter. “Okay,” she said slowly. “We’re listening.”

Greg forced himself to meet their eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m… I’m a cape.”

The words hung there, strange and too loud in the deafening silence that followed.

Greg rushed to fill it. “I triggered a couple weeks ago. There was a fight, and I—I thought I was going to die. Then something snapped, and um… now I have powers.”

His dad’s expression froze mid-blink, and his mom’s hand tightened around her mug while her eyes went wide, but neither of them said anything.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared, and I didn’t know what was happening at first,” Greg continued quickly, voice gaining speed with every sentence. “I thought maybe I was going crazy. I mean, I was hearing voices—” He stopped himself just short of mentioning Team RWBY. “—kind of, but not like bad voices, more like… companions? Friends?”

“Greg,” his dad said slowly, shifting slightly in his chair, “do you need to see someone?”

“No! No, not like that. I mean, they’re part of my powers, I think, but that’s not the point.” Greg’s eyes darted between them. “I’m not a danger to myself or dangerous. I mean, I could be, but I don't want to be. I want to help people, I’ve always wanted to be a hero, and now that I actually can, I’m scared.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked down at his clenched fists.

“I’m scared,” he said again, quieter. “Scared I’ll mess it up. Scared I’ll hurt someone. Scared I’m not me anymore. But this is the dream I’ve had since forever, and… I needed to tell you. I need you to know, and I hoped you’d be okay with that. With me.”

Another long pause, long enough for Greg to start second-guessing everything. Maybe they didn’t believe him. Maybe they thought he was losing it.

Then his mom stood up and crossed the room in three steps and pulled him into a fierce hug, running her fingers through his hair soothingly.

“Oh, sweetie,” she whispered. “Of course we love you. Nothing changes that.”

His dad stood and joined them a moment later, laying a steady hand on Greg’s shoulder. “You’re still our son. You will always be.”

Greg’s vision blurred. “I thought you’d… be mad, or scared, or tell me to pack my bags and leave the house.”

“We are scared,” his mom admitted, pulling back to look at him properly. “But not of you. We’re scared for you. This is a dangerous world, Greg. But you trusted us enough to tell us the truth, and that’s what matters.”

His dad nodded. “We’ve both noticed you’ve been different lately. We just didn’t know why, and didn't want to bring it up yet for fear that we were overreacting. I guess now everything makes sense.”

“Well, now you do,” Greg said, giving a watery laugh. “Also, um… I kinda want to build a weapon in the basement.”

His mom raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘weapon.’”

“Like, a transforming sword-gun thing?”

They shared a look before turning back to him.

“Alright,” his dad eventually said. “We’ll help you, but I get to supervise any welding, and if anything explodes, we are allowed to say ‘I told you so.’”

His mom sighed in resignation, adding, “I’ll start clearing out the laundry pile to make some space. And you’re wearing PPEs, young man. Non-negotiable.”

Greg blinked. “Wait, you’re actually okay with me being a cape?”

“You’re our son,” she said, pulling him into another hug. “We don’t have to understand it all right now. But whatever this life of yours becomes, we’ll be in it with you.”

His dad gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’re a family. And families back each other up.”

Greg hugged them both this time, the knot in his chest slowly unwinding as warmth filled the space it left behind.

In the back of his mind, Team RWBY stirred again. Ruby beamed, Yang cheered, Blake exhaled in quiet relief, and Weiss, ever composed, simply said, That went better than I expected.

Greg smiled and tightened his hug.