Title: Distant
A/N: Sometimes, a child being precocious doesn't do them any favors.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Uryuu still watches other families on sidewalks and in grocery stores—those are the places for watching families, after all, and sometimes with the raised voices of children and adults alike, ringing in the air and off the cool walls, they're impossible to ignore. Whether clutching his grandfather's hand or trailing after his father, Uryuu watches and draws observations.
At first, all he notices are the mothers. It's the sort of thing a child with no mother can be expected to notice and all his eyes will follow are the women who attend to their children with nothing short of loving care. Uryuu watches in silence, and the more he does the more a feeling of strange, alien, half-alive grief wells up inside of him.
Eventually though, he starts watching the fathers as well.
Much the same as with his mother, Uryuu watches children with their fathers and gets the distinct impression that he is bereft of something important.
Fathers with their children… They're just like the mothers. Whether they're smiling or sad or stern or angry they're still so very loving. It's clear in their tones of voice and in their eyes. They love their children and they're unafraid to show it.
What Uryuu notices about any parent with their children is that they look, well, happy. Happy to be around their children. Smiling at them, hugging them, holding them, talking to them like they actually want to and don't consider it to be a waste of their time.
Uryuu's own father may as well be of an alien species from these people. Distant, all but silent, rarely acknowledging Uryuu's presence unless Uryuu opens his mouth to speak. Ryuuken shows little interest in him beyond make sure he's fed and clothed. Any moment of something resembling warmth is hit and miss at best—the closest they've come are the nights when Uryuu crawls into his father's bed after having a nightmare and Ryuuken lets him stay there.
In the manner of children time and time again when Uryuu looks at blame he first looks at himself. It's easier to change his own behavior than that of his father and maybe, just maybe, if he changes something about himself things will be different.
He thinks about it but after wracking his brain Uryuu realizes that he can't do anything to make things different between himself and his father. He doesn't even know what it is about him that makes Ryuuken so distant. All he has are a few hints that make no sense.
Occasionally, Uryuu's peeked beyond the door of the study and he's seen Ryuuken sitting in the chair, leaning back into it. He'll have the picture of Mother in his hand and the most inscrutable expression on his face. For some reason, Uryuu will feel his stomach burn and shrivel and he'll slip away before Ryuuken can see him.
The way he looks at him (like he's trying so hard to see someone else, trying to put a face on top of the one he sees) gives Uryuu the thickest, coldest sense of foreboding as well.
No matter what he does Uryuu can't figure out why Ryuuken is so distant. He can't figure out why he never smiles, why he never shows any sign of life around him, why there's only coldness and never any feeling of warmth.
Why am I not good enough? What is it about me that makes your hands so cold when you pick me up? Why are you so cold to me? It makes him angry; it makes him sad; it makes him guilty; it makes him scared. He's still trying and he's wondering just what the point is.
More than anything though, it's just confusing.