She keeps trying to defend him. You have to understand... It feels like he's just supposed to simply understand and forgive all the world and get none of the same courtesy.
He gets it. She loves Dad. Of course she does. Their family stuck together through everything, better or worse. They weren't good at it, but they'd all throw themselves on the line. And when it came to Dad keeping secrets, they'd all just move on and let go.
So she praises him. She talks all about the family he'd never let down, the family he'd always fight for. And she tells it all to the one who's picture is covered by a magnet on the fridge.
"Of course Ichigo understands! When has Ichigo ever had to pay for--" His jaw snaps shut. His eyes squeeze tight and he turns his head away. "I can't talk about this. There's no point trying to convince me either which way. Wait until you're home and then you'll never have to hear me say a word on it again."
Wait until you're home and then you'll never have to hear me say a word on it again. She doesn't like the way he says that. She doesn't begrudge him his feelings--there must be a reason for them, after all. But he sounds like he'll just disappear, and worse that she might be grateful for it.
There's a wall between them that she's not sure what to do with. It's her word against his, and he has no reason to believe her.
It also doesn't escape her notice that he's holding himself back, clipping short a remark about Ichigo that she can only guess at.
"If you say so," she responds unhappily, resignation deep in her tone. It's not a satisfactory conclusion for either of them, but she's not sure they'll find a way to reach one as things are right now.
She sounds unhappy. For a moment it brings him to falter, looking back at her and unravelling just a little.
"Mom, I..." But he has nothing more than that. His mouth shuts and he goes silent again. He turns just a little more from her.
Then with enough time, "I'm the only one who's not on board for... anything. When you go back, you're not going to find some splintered family or anything. Everyone's fine with each other. And everyone else is fine with them. No more shinigami war, no business with hueco mundo, none of that. Everything's..." Painfully, horribly empty. "... quiet. So you don't have to worry."
He wishes he had his mask, he thinks for the thousandth time. And right on it's trail is the thought that maybe... maybe he should leave.
He talks of not finding a splintered family, even though the thought had never crossed her mind. It's a bit of a surprise that he chooses to make that assumption. One that she tries to delicately correct.
"I wasn't worried about them," she tells him, gently. It feels like such a heavy, telling silence that stretches between them. If not them, then there's few options left for her to worry about.
But she breaks that silence by pushing out her chair and getting to her feet. "I should get started on our dinner," she explains, using it as a means to excuse herself from the table--and him from the topic if he wants it. "What would you like tonight?"
She wants his opinion to change. She wants him to understand. But really, it shouldn't matter at all what he thinks. About anything. None of it is going to have impact, at least not in the long run. She doesn't see that now, but maybe in time she will. If she's not worried about them it must be that, but there's no reason to worry at all.
But he doesn't want to explain that now. He doesn't want to sit in silence either.
She gets up, asking what he'd like and he blinks. "...I don't know. It doesn't matter. Do what you want to I gu--"
There's a knock at the door and he rises up. That's right. He remembers now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He gets it. She loves Dad. Of course she does. Their family stuck together through everything, better or worse. They weren't good at it, but they'd all throw themselves on the line. And when it came to Dad keeping secrets, they'd all just move on and let go.
So she praises him. She talks all about the family he'd never let down, the family he'd always fight for. And she tells it all to the one who's picture is covered by a magnet on the fridge.
"Of course Ichigo understands! When has Ichigo ever had to pay for--" His jaw snaps shut. His eyes squeeze tight and he turns his head away. "I can't talk about this. There's no point trying to convince me either which way. Wait until you're home and then you'll never have to hear me say a word on it again."
no subject
There's a wall between them that she's not sure what to do with. It's her word against his, and he has no reason to believe her.
It also doesn't escape her notice that he's holding himself back, clipping short a remark about Ichigo that she can only guess at.
"If you say so," she responds unhappily, resignation deep in her tone. It's not a satisfactory conclusion for either of them, but she's not sure they'll find a way to reach one as things are right now.
no subject
"Mom, I..." But he has nothing more than that. His mouth shuts and he goes silent again. He turns just a little more from her.
Then with enough time, "I'm the only one who's not on board for... anything. When you go back, you're not going to find some splintered family or anything. Everyone's fine with each other. And everyone else is fine with them. No more shinigami war, no business with hueco mundo, none of that. Everything's..." Painfully, horribly empty. "... quiet. So you don't have to worry."
He wishes he had his mask, he thinks for the thousandth time. And right on it's trail is the thought that maybe... maybe he should leave.
no subject
"I wasn't worried about them," she tells him, gently. It feels like such a heavy, telling silence that stretches between them. If not them, then there's few options left for her to worry about.
But she breaks that silence by pushing out her chair and getting to her feet. "I should get started on our dinner," she explains, using it as a means to excuse herself from the table--and him from the topic if he wants it. "What would you like tonight?"
no subject
But he doesn't want to explain that now. He doesn't want to sit in silence either.
She gets up, asking what he'd like and he blinks. "...I don't know. It doesn't matter. Do what you want to I gu--"
There's a knock at the door and he rises up. That's right. He remembers now.
He'll take care of this.