(The reason)
Prompt No.2: Leave
-X-
He knew this day was coming; just as he had known the last. Silent arguments turned verbal, and verbal, almost threatening – perhaps he should have recognized the symptoms sooner, which lead to this.
Although the room had once been occupied, it never held a variety of objects. A bed, a few blankets, some pillows and some sheets; a dresser, some toys long-since discarded, some notebooks, and a few extra things. Despite the fact this room belonged to a boy within his early teens, the objects that had once been held within it, had always been few. For the sake of saving space, or not having to deal with clutter – he didn't know— whatever the reason, it didn't matter now; for he no longer had to concern himself with such things.
I'm leaving. Had been the words spoken, the final phrase ever directed at him from the very teenager whom he raised since birth. With bags packed tightly, and bound at his sides; he had understood immediately, without needing the words.
And perhaps he didn't react as well as he should have.
Although he had known that this day were to come – and, much unlike most parents who would assume it'd be in growth – he had both known it would happen, and that it would happen soon; despite his son being merely a child, one still currently in his early teens. He had still been unable to control the inevitable reaction he had to such meetings—for even though he anticipated it, his approach was unavoidable.
So, as stated, having already expected it or not – he had reacted just as emotionless as he had in the past. Features placid, expression veiled; a look of disinterest might have been what set him off. Whatever it was that caused pale fingertips to grip their bags, expression turning from slightly uncertain to clear, dignified, and resolute— it most likely could have been avoidable, if he had been willing to do so. But it was a test of wills, a test of personality – and above all else, a test of defiance. There had been many situations in the past, which had hinted at such an outcome leading to this result; yet he had faced each one not head-on, but with tact. Unlike a normal parent whom would cower with worry in hopes that their only child would not yet leave the nest, he reacted both instinctual and perhaps territorial in rising to the challenge.
It had been his own foolishness to push Uryu over the edge, and he had no one to blame but himself.
Standing at the doorway and voicing his decision, he hadn't stopped the boy from leaving his home. Although the smallest sliver of uncertainty had remained, he had chose to ignore it – opting instead to react as he had been over the years, not showing in any form or any sense, that he cared.
And perhaps that was the reason; maybe it was? That because it seemed as though he didn't care, Uryu felt inclined to leave. Without Soken around to 'keep the peace', and with nothing between them to block out any and all negatives which seemed to happen so naturally between them, their fate was perhaps inevitable, and previously sealed. Avoidable – to some extent, should Ryuken have been willing – but inevitable, no less, that this would happen.
But did he care?
To go after the boy meant admitting defeat, to do anything else – was perhaps cowardly. But for some reason, he did neither of those things, and instead did the opposite.
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Not run after the male – still a child – and force him to come home. Not call him, check up on him, or admit to any wrong-doings. There was no words passed from his lips, to Uryu's ear; none written, none verbal; to put it simply—no communication whatsoever. And he was at fault.
Uryu had left, and what was done – has been done. There was no inclination, no nagging sensation that he should do anything other than this; and perhaps, he thought, even if he wished to do so – he had no right. Who was he, as a man hardly acting like a father, to demand something of a child who harbored no resemblance? Who was he to take whatever so-called 'dignity' Uryu apparently had, and snatch it away from him, with one simple phone call. There was no need, in his opinion, to change what had been done; for it was no longer any of his concern – not his problem; nor should it be, again.
If Uryu's own foolishness, being a result of his own, should lead to anything regretful – then so be it. In packing his bags, in hoisting them up, in turning out the door and in allowing it to close – Ryuken had allowed Uryu to seal not only the boy's fate, but perhaps his own. And maybe he should have felt remorse, sadness, or something of the sort in being rendered powerless in doing so; though in his eyes, that wasn't the case. It was so very far from the truth.
Uryu had chosen his own path, and followed through. If that's what he wished to do – and if that's how he had chosen to leave things, Ryuken would be in no position to argue, to become irate from it, request a renewal, or do anything of the sort. Uryu had done his part in leaving, and gathering up the courage to do so, and now it was his turn to do the same.
Leave Uryu be, in respect of his wishes – and do nothing, absolutely nothing, because this was no longer a battle he wished to take part in. Uryu was gone, the doors had been closed; just as his own heart had been sealed long ago.
Should he choose to return from where he came, it'd be up to his own silly antics to decide. For now, the door would remain locked; shut tight, and sealed. If there was any desire to return home to a place that could barely be defined as such, it would be up to Uryu to find his way in – to dig his way through – to keep put in such a place, and find out how to see things through.
For now, he'd do nothing – just as he had currently been doing and had done in the past. For the path they had chosen, and the road they had walked across was already an indicator of what was soon to come.
Or lack thereof, really, in meetings and such. Because 'family reunions'—who would have them, when there no longer was one?
Because there wasn't.
A family, that is.
The first step would be to acknowledge this, and hopefully in turn - Uryu would too.
