Condensation
Matoba breaches the topic of Natsume's parents.
"Do you miss your parents?"
Natsume, a little irritated, but mostly nostalgic, looks away. "Of course I do." A golden-brown eye peeks over at the exorcist, complexion thoughtful and distant, facing toward the passersby. Unsure if he could mirror the question, Natsume adds to his answer. "But I have my adoptive parents—they are just as important. They are also my parents. And I have even more than that." Natsume leans forward in the wire-metal chair, eyes also cast to the people walking past. A smile, soft and melancholic, comes to his lips. "I have a found family."
When Matoba doesn't respond, Natsume lifts his head to look over the table at him. He is looking at Natsume with a lost complexion.
"I'm sorry. I don't understand what you mean."
Natsume half-grins bitterly. He should have expected something like that. Not in a pitying way, but understanding. They were raised differently—different customs and communities and constructions. Sitting up straighter in his seat, but now shy of the fixed attention on him, Natsume pinches and rolls the straw of his iced tea.
"They are people who matter to you, and you matter to them. There isn't a burden between and the relation blooms naturally, often without realizing it. They're dependable, loving, and supportive. It's a strong connection regardless of blood, or duty."
Realizing that he spoke a little too intimately, Natsume sips from the straw, throat then refreshed. There is a quiet lull between them, and the day's busying remains unaffected around them.
Finally glancing up, he finds contemplation on Matoba's face. A knowing sadness, but hopeful and warm. His lips quirk so slightly.
"I see."
Natsume looks down, taking a longer sip. Another quiet spell. But it's not intentional nor meant to be uncomfortable. It's meant to reflect.
Natsume listens to Matoba inhale then exhale. Another realization.
"It sounds wonderful. I hope to find that myself."
July 2 - Born/found family