It's a new year as I post this. 2017 begins.
For anyone wondering about my other projects, including any number of the ones I've let flounder by the wayside for a long, long time, I beg patience. The past couple of years have been seriously difficult for me, and while I've tried to keep things ongoing, tried to ensure that I keep things up-to-date, I'll be the first to admit that I haven't made the best job of it.
I'm working on it, y'all. I'm not ready to give up the ghost.
Not by a long shot.
.
"That sounds . . . exhausting."
"It wasn't particularly refreshing, I'll admit that."
It was three in the morning. Mokuba sat in his old bedchamber, which would have to serve as his office until he could find a new space to set up. He had entertained the thought of taking over Gozaburo's rooms, but had nixed the idea almost immediately. He could only imagine how Seto would take that.
"Are you going to be . . . you know, finishing the school year?" Ryou had answered on the second ring, even though Mokuba's sudden decision to call him had come well after midnight. "It sounds like you're going to be busy. Taking over an estate, starting a new job? I mean . . . president of a company?"
"I'll have to make some . . . adjustments," Mokuba admitted, "but for the most part, I don't think much will change about my daily routine except the size and stupidity of the children I'll have to deal with."
Ryou made a sound in his throat that didn't really come through on the phone.
"You're very cavalier about this, Mokuba. Forgive me, but . . . it's concerning."
"Consider it a coping mechanism," Mokuba muttered; he didn't have the heart to tell his new friend that, compared to Gozaburo, dealing with the rest of the world was so safe that it was boring. "If I permit these issues the gravity they deserve, they'll crush me."
Silence at the other end. Then, "Fair enough."
Mokuba waited for a follow-up statement, but didn't get one.
He wondered if that was as apocalyptic as he thought it was.
Then he said, "We should see about meeting up over the weekend."
"Oh! Um . . . yes! Certainly! I'd . . . I'd like that."
Mokuba chuckled. Poor guy, he thought. Probably not used to being on the receiving end of invitations.
"Listen, Ryou . . . thanks for listening. Regardless of how I'm making it sound, things are going to be crazy for a while around here. I'm worried about Seto. I'm not sure what's in that boy's head, but I don't think it's good."
"There's no need to thank me. I wouldn't presume to give you advice, but . . . I think you're doing the right thing already. Support him. Make the transition as smooth as you can. Make sure . . . make sure he knows that he's safe. That it's . . . okay to grieve."
". . . You're right. That's the important part. Listen, Ryou, I'm gonna have to let you go. It's late, and I . . . I want to check on him before I go to bed. Take care of yourself. You hear me?"
"Same to you, Mokuba. Until next time, then?"
"Of course."