[She wouldn't mind just sitting there - he didn't have to comfort her. This was her mistake thinking they'd have some big, momentous occasion away from home when it wasn't possible. Why should they get to have kids? Not with all their issues.]
[But when he came to her side and gathered her up, she felt more tears pour down her face. She leaned into his chest and wrapped her arms tight around his waist, hiding herself as the flow worsened.]
[One day? Right... maybe. If only she could speak, but the most she could muster was a sob.]
[The misfortune of a link: Everything flowed in, blended and amplified. It left an ache in Kanji's heart, and that telltale ache behind the eyes of weary tear ducts. He hadn't felt anything like this in a long, long time.
He stroked her hair and felt that especially tempting pull in his soul, that desire to just relive it all again and again and step away from everything else. It was the same when his father died, reliving the final moments he'd been able to speak with him, and kicking himself over and over in a mental self-flagellation. Though proverbial fingers seemed to reach for that option, it took will to pull that away.]
Th-this sucks. I'm so sorry...
[Don't blame yourself. For as long as he lived, for as long as he was here, he would remind her of this. Even if they didn't have the issues they had, even if somehow they were fuckin' Stepford Folk, it wouldn't have changed this outcome. When the ultrasound showed vague chroma cores within the shelled outlines,perhaps... perhaps they knew, but didn't listen to themselves.
But that left the plants. The shells. What should they do with them...?]
[She's so grateful for him; and since she can't muster up the ability to talk at the moment, she could at least mentally reach out to him feeble as it feels right now. It would be a while to get over this - over the profound disappointment she didn't expect to feel - but he's here. She doesn't have to go through this alone.]
[His thoughts about the plants... was meant with the idea they should be planted. Not that she wanted to look at them again at the moment.]
[Reluctance blended with an idea: Plant them. He would get on that soon, some place where they'd thrive under sunshine and rain. They were just plants, but that didn't mean they couldn't be treated with care. But the disappointment was palpable, was real...
By sundown, the plants would be replanted. The only evidence of them would be a little soil under Kanji's fingernails, the eggshells he realized a perfect fertilizer. It was still that lingering, perhaps fatherly drive that fought to continue to live in him that demanded that- at least in letting them go- they would be well-established.
But he kept two shards of shell, smooth and mother-of-pearlesque, gently filed around the edges to form rounded charms. With simple thread it could go around the neck. Kanji set them on the night stands, one for Naoto to take or simply store if she desired.
He wasn't sure why he made them. Was it to never forget, that they should keep their heads as clear as possible when something happened here, or simply both?
Whatever the case, Kanji was never one to turn down accessories. To go with the other things he wore, each symbolizing something both minor and major, he wore his and tucked it under his shirt.]
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[But when he came to her side and gathered her up, she felt more tears pour down her face. She leaned into his chest and wrapped her arms tight around his waist, hiding herself as the flow worsened.]
[One day? Right... maybe. If only she could speak, but the most she could muster was a sob.]
no subject
He stroked her hair and felt that especially tempting pull in his soul, that desire to just relive it all again and again and step away from everything else. It was the same when his father died, reliving the final moments he'd been able to speak with him, and kicking himself over and over in a mental self-flagellation. Though proverbial fingers seemed to reach for that option, it took will to pull that away.]
Th-this sucks. I'm so sorry...
[Don't blame yourself. For as long as he lived, for as long as he was here, he would remind her of this. Even if they didn't have the issues they had, even if somehow they were fuckin' Stepford Folk, it wouldn't have changed this outcome. When the ultrasound showed vague chroma cores within the shelled outlines,perhaps... perhaps they knew, but didn't listen to themselves.
But that left the plants. The shells. What should they do with them...?]
no subject
[His thoughts about the plants... was meant with the idea they should be planted. Not that she wanted to look at them again at the moment.]
no subject
By sundown, the plants would be replanted. The only evidence of them would be a little soil under Kanji's fingernails, the eggshells he realized a perfect fertilizer. It was still that lingering, perhaps fatherly drive that fought to continue to live in him that demanded that- at least in letting them go- they would be well-established.
But he kept two shards of shell, smooth and mother-of-pearlesque, gently filed around the edges to form rounded charms. With simple thread it could go around the neck. Kanji set them on the night stands, one for Naoto to take or simply store if she desired.
He wasn't sure why he made them. Was it to never forget, that they should keep their heads as clear as possible when something happened here, or simply both?
Whatever the case, Kanji was never one to turn down accessories. To go with the other things he wore, each symbolizing something both minor and major, he wore his and tucked it under his shirt.]