When he returned, he covered up the pain with smiles and false happiness because he didn't want them to know.

The bruises on his wrists and thighs were easily covered by his costume. They would heal soon enough. His limp would go away eventually. He didn't let them see because he didn't want them to know.

If he sobbed quietly to himself on those nights he could actually force himself to go to a bed, then that was okay. If that mask haunted his nightmares every time he was exhausted enough to fall asleep, then that was fine. And if he soundproofed his room because he didn't want them to hear him scream at three in the morning because it was just so goddamned bad, then that was alright.

Because he was the leader. Because he had to keep his weaknesses to himself. Because he had to be the person never affected, standing like a rock when everything comes crashing down.

And because most of all, he didn't want them to know.