I wish that quiet time, personal time, was more… personal. It consists of me, working on the computer and Mokuba, watching TV. That's it. Sometimes, we don't even talk to each other. I know that he doesn't care about that, as long as were together.
8-Year-old Seto is screaming at the other one. 'Talk to him' 'tell him a joke'. But the older Seto never knows how exactly to break the silence, the awkward silence. He just looks at his brother, wishing that the boy had a clue how much he cares for him. Its not like I can do anything about it. It's not like… I can change it.
"How was work?" What to say, what not to say, don't sound to mean, be nice, but not too nice, don't want him to think your going soft.
"Busy." That's the truth, not a lie, it was, it always is. Ask him, how his day was. Older Seto doesn't care, but 8-year-old Seto, hovers over the boy's ever word. "And yours?"
"It was alright I suppose." All right, is that all, there must be more to it than that, there has to be, its school, it can never be that simple, noting is ever that simple. Tell me more Mokuba. The most important person in my life, and he doesn't want to talk to me.
But I, just work. And watch him out of the corner of my eye. Hoping that he doesn't decide to walk out of the room, out of the house, out of my life. I know that he wont, he loves me too much. He loves the 8-year-old Seto. He doesn't know the other one, he doesn't what to know him. And I'm all right with that.