She hears him walk away, only to start fussing around in the kitchen. For her? For him? She's not sure, but it's impossible to put it out of her mind. At least it gives her a moment to try and clear her head. Up until she hears him call out about the picture.
She stiffens a little again, this time glancing back at the picture on her bedside table.
She takes a deep breath. "No, I brought it in here."
That quiets him a moment. If she brought the photo with her, it was clearly so she could look at it. Look at the family she's missing.
He pours the heated miso into the bowl, then goes to clean out the pot for her. He sets it to dry, then says, "...I know it's been a while. Longer than it should've been. But I'm not going to stop looking for the way back. I will find the way. And you'll be back home to them soon. I swear it."
He picks up the tray and carries it over, setting it down outside the door like he-- Ichigo would do for Rukia once upon a time. "There's miso out here on the floor. And some water too. I'm gonna go now." He hesitates. "Good night, Mom."
He doesn't say anything immediately, and she thinks that might be enough. Whatever he makes of that, he doesn't seem to have any more questions. For a few semi-blissful seconds, the only tension in her is the knot of anxious panic from earlier.
Then he speaks again, bringing fresh tears to her eyes. She feels like her heart is breaking. Home. That what he thinks this is about. How many times has he promised that to her now? Knowing that he'd be going back to a half life. How did she ever think that was okay?
It takes all that she has not to let those tears reach her voice. "Thank you. Good night."
She doesn't say anything to that other stuff, but he can't blame her. At some point there isn't much to say. Given enough time all his promises are going to start to seem hollow. And isn't that apt?
He thinks to offer her that empty picture frame, but he's already lingered long enough. He steps out the door of her home. With a bag of books and papers, meant for games and useless gestures born of naivety, he heads on toward his own empty house.
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no subject
She stiffens a little again, this time glancing back at the picture on her bedside table.
She takes a deep breath. "No, I brought it in here."
no subject
He pours the heated miso into the bowl, then goes to clean out the pot for her. He sets it to dry, then says, "...I know it's been a while. Longer than it should've been. But I'm not going to stop looking for the way back. I will find the way. And you'll be back home to them soon. I swear it."
He picks up the tray and carries it over, setting it down outside the door like he-- Ichigo would do for Rukia once upon a time. "There's miso out here on the floor. And some water too. I'm gonna go now." He hesitates. "Good night, Mom."
no subject
Then he speaks again, bringing fresh tears to her eyes. She feels like her heart is breaking. Home. That what he thinks this is about. How many times has he promised that to her now? Knowing that he'd be going back to a half life. How did she ever think that was okay?
It takes all that she has not to let those tears reach her voice. "Thank you. Good night."
no subject
He thinks to offer her that empty picture frame, but he's already lingered long enough. He steps out the door of her home. With a bag of books and papers, meant for games and useless gestures born of naivety, he heads on toward his own empty house.