Mob! What Do You Want? (MobxReader)

Lecture

"Come here." 

You heard your mother's strict tone call for you. You hesitantly obeyed, approaching her with stiff shoulders.

"What is it?" You nervously asked as you sat on the sofa across from her.

"What is this?" She asked as she holds out a single sheet of paper with a specific number written in red on the top right corner.

"...... O-Oh, you found it, huh...." You laughed anxiously as you began to sweat.

"Yes, I did. What number is this?" She tested you.

"...... 64..." You answered with a gulp.

Your mother sighed in slight disappointment and crossed her arms.

"Is that a good number?" She asked.

"...... I-I guess not--"

"-You guess not?" She repeated with a scoff.

"..... I'm sorry." You apologized, avoiding her glare.

"Look at me and say it to my face. Come on, you're not a kid anymore." She sighed.

You reluctantly shared eye contact with her with sweaty palms sitting on your lap.

"I'm sorry." 

"Do you think it's okay to get a 64 on your first test?" She questioned you.

"No."

"Then why did you get a 64? Did you even study? You seem pretty relaxed about this low score. Don't you know that it's close to an F? Do you know what an F means? It means failure. Are you a failure?"

Your mother threw all sorts of questions at you. You took a deep breath and exhaled in response.

"Because I did so bad on the test, I hid it from you so it's not okay. But you found it.... I wouldn't want to show you my score if I wasn't proud of it.... I was probably studying the wrong material--"

"What? The wrong material--- Are you serious right now?" Her tone grew louder, which made you flinch.

You start to draw tears from your eyes.

"Oh, don't give me that." She shook her head with a lazy groan.

"........."

"Well? Say something!" She demanded.

"If I did, it would just sound like an excuse." You sobbed.

"Then why would you give me an excuse? Why don't you tell me the truth!?" She argued.

You wiped your tears and sniffed.

"You won't believe me." 

"Middle school isn't that hard, (Name). I passed middle school with straight A's. You should be able to do the same--"

"But I'm not you, mom." You weakly responded.

Your mother shot you a confused look mixed with anger.

"You're my daughter, are you not!? If you're not, then who are you?! Have I been taking care of some stray kid who doesn't have the will to study!? You're better off being in the streets!!" She bellowed.

You couldn't say anything that would calm her down. All you did was sob louder and louder. She gave you a disgusted look, forcing you to feel shameful about your low score.

"Go to your room. I am very disappointed in you, (Name). You stay in your room for the rest of the day and think about why you got such a low score." She scowled.

You quickly got up and ran to your room, shutting the door behind, slouching down to the floor, hugging yourself for comfort. There must have been something wrong. You did study and you completed all of the assigned homework. You had confidence in taking that test. But it became something that you didn't expect. You couldn't think of anything that would help remove the stress from your shoulders. Your mother's words haunted you. She had high expectations in which you could barely meet most of the times. It was difficult living with your mother. But you had nowhere to go and nowhere to stay. There had been times when she was angry at you but never have you ever encountered this devilish personality of hers. 

You didn't want to think of it anymore. You didn't want to feel ashamed or fearful. The only person who was keeping you away from those horrible moments was Mob. He seemed like a simpleminded boy who doesn't think less of you or show any signs of it. But what good will that do to help you?

"How do you do it, Mob?"