[ It's maybe not as bad as he'd been making it out to be in his head, talking about her. Telling someone about it. Kyna had been sort of a spur of the moment thing, this one was more of a deliberate and considered decision. He thought it might grip at his chest as tightly as it used to, but instead there's just one old and hollow pang that resonates gently through him. Less like a toothache, more like a bruise. It's alright.
What's still a little scary is the part about how this means a door is open and he's letting someone walk through it. That's the thing about doors, people can go just as easily as they come.
Still, it would be a dick thing to do, leaving things as they were. Knowing what he knows about Nate and stonewalling him in turn, an unfair kind of power imbalance almost. He's not good at doing interpersonal relationships, but he's trying to get better. Trying to stop being the asshole that ghosted Kyna and refused to acknowledge that it was happening. It's progress, even if he's not planning on delving any deeper into any of it. This is as far as he's going today, any more would start to make him anxious. Overly self-analytical.
So at the question phrased like a statement, he only offers up a small noncommittal smile. ]
I got through it.
[ By himself at 23, responsible for everything after her death. The funeral, the paperwork, the house. Turns out cremation is a hell of a lot cheaper than a casket, and only a dozen people showed up for her anyway. Coworkers, mostly. Just a small cluster of people he barely knew who all wanted to wrap a hand around his shoulder like that did anything but make it worse.
He scattered her ashes at West Weaver Creek, and all that was left was paperwork. The remainder of her life insurance policy paid for his first semester, and he thinks she'd have liked that.
But anyway-- ]
It was a long time ago, so.
[ He'd like to imply it doesn't matter, except they shared a fucking dream that sort of tips his hand. ]
no subject
What's still a little scary is the part about how this means a door is open and he's letting someone walk through it. That's the thing about doors, people can go just as easily as they come.
Still, it would be a dick thing to do, leaving things as they were. Knowing what he knows about Nate and stonewalling him in turn, an unfair kind of power imbalance almost. He's not good at doing interpersonal relationships, but he's trying to get better. Trying to stop being the asshole that ghosted Kyna and refused to acknowledge that it was happening. It's progress, even if he's not planning on delving any deeper into any of it. This is as far as he's going today, any more would start to make him anxious. Overly self-analytical.
So at the question phrased like a statement, he only offers up a small noncommittal smile. ]
I got through it.
[ By himself at 23, responsible for everything after her death. The funeral, the paperwork, the house. Turns out cremation is a hell of a lot cheaper than a casket, and only a dozen people showed up for her anyway. Coworkers, mostly. Just a small cluster of people he barely knew who all wanted to wrap a hand around his shoulder like that did anything but make it worse.
He scattered her ashes at West Weaver Creek, and all that was left was paperwork. The remainder of her life insurance policy paid for his first semester, and he thinks she'd have liked that.
But anyway-- ]
It was a long time ago, so.
[ He'd like to imply it doesn't matter, except they shared a fucking dream that sort of tips his hand. ]