Tadashi's smart. It's not hard to think of the logical reasons that going home is the best course of action.
He's been driving recklessly, and he needs to calm down. He won't be any good to anybody splattered on the freeway somewhere. He's not following any leads, he's not leaving any idea behind that might help him find Hiro, and he's not abandoning hope. Besides, Hiro always comes back home.
He always comes back home. Tadashi grits his teeth against the ache in his chest.
He's doing the right thing, so why does it feel like he's giving up?
When he finally pulls up to the café, it's still completely dark. The first signs of sunrise will probably start showing up. And maybe by then, maybe by the time an entire freaking night has come and gone…
Maybe Hiro will just magically show up.
…Fuck.
He parks the bike and halfheartedly punches the wall of the garage. If he's being honest with himself, exhaustion and lack of sleep are probably the only things keeping him from a complete meltdown at this point. Even as he's standing there, he can feel the dim, fuzzy sensation signaling he's just at the edge of falling asleep on his feet.
Maybe he's doing the wrong thing, but what else is there to do?
It's not what you should do now. It's what you should have done then.
Second-guessing himself every step of the way, he makes his way back to the attic.