She hates when he runs away.
She has watched him so very often, hiding in his room, or muting the world with his music; closing himself to anyone, to everyone.
He builds a wall as high and as deep as his feelings of self-pity, it's an impossible task for anyone to try and breach it. He tries to detach himself, since whenever he gets close to someone; he always ends up hurting them.
And deep within the pit of her stomach, she can feel that if only she had been more supportive, or had chosen her words in any other form, he would still be here next to her, flinching and whining but making her feel whole and complete.
And then, just like that, she sees the thin, pasty white arms of the angel in front of her become longer and thinner and rigid, and shoot straight at her face.
----- -----
She loves the smell of lavender.
A smell so ethereal and intoxicating, she can't help but connect it to being a woman. No wonder She would use it; After all, Kaji would never see her like a woman unless she starts to behave like a one.
She remembers her mother growing lavenders near in a green house; they would grow wild in the gardens. Her mother would use the flower spikes for dried flower arrangements. The fragrant, pale purple flowers and flower buds were used in potpourris. Dried and sealed in pouches, they were then placed among stored items of clothing to give a fresh fragrance and as a deterrent to moths.
So now as she sees him again, for the first time after he came back, she can't help but smile wistfully as he changes his month old clothes into fresh ones.
And the lavender wafts again into the air.