When Seiji leaves, there is a place he can go to. But Shuuichi's is far away. So he stays.
"Do you think I care?"
Oh. He does.
It is like the sun dimming—Shuuichi's hurt. A shattered look in his eyes; shuttered silence and disappointment.
It makes Seiji want to chase, hunt, maim all those things, all those words—his!—that have taken on a terrible life of their own.
What is he thinking? Why won't he say anything?
The door doesn't slam. He can never do that.
As always, Shinobu speaks matter-of-factly. "He doesn't want to talk to you right now."
But the thing is, Seiji does. He wants nothing more than that.
His sister snaps his cell shut, places it on the counter. Tilts her head in consideration.
"Bake me a cookie."
.
One cookie? Shinobu is ridiculous. It's a familiar game, chasing her around the kitchen because he can't quite chase her out. She ends up perched precariously on the farthest counter from his workspace, tucked against the refrigerator. A small bowl of raw cookie dough is the price Seiji pays, as usual.
"I like him. He seems like a good guy."
Seiji dumps another bag of chocolate chips into the bowl.
"Seiji." Voice immeasurably fond. Is she laughing at him? "Are you going home tonight?"
He nods.
It's all he can do.
Shuuichi has never been used to quiet.
A multi-generational household full to the brim at all times. A smattering of spirits and yokai that Takashi and Madara brought into his world.
And his Seiji.
All those things—beings, people—are pretty far away right now.
What can he do but wait here at home?
It's getting late.
Shuuichi leaves a light on and takes his tea to bed.
Seiji comes home with cookies. They go perfectly with the tea.