Yesterday is dead and gone | Theo

My promise is I will hurt you.

words ###

unmanly squeeing

When they had put his father into the ground, he hadn't known what to feel. Emotions were roiling within him, despite the very tight lid he kept on their containment. After the news came, his inner response was horribly divided and the only thing he could do was quietly excuse himself from the room so he could try to parse the situation. He had spent a good fifteen minutes leaned up against the bathroom vanity, fingers splayed against the cool marble in a death grip. Breathing had been somewhat difficult, what with him not sure whether to laugh heartily or cry, but as time flowed on those sensations lessened as he asserted  the iron vice of his willpower. He was left, staring blankly into his reflection, crimson eyes seeing but not really comprehending.

This meant he was free, didn't it? Thus he should feel glad. There was no longer the shadow of his family patriarch hovering over him, tugging at his strings like some sort of puppet. He absolutely did not need the strict guidance, he was his own man and perfectly capable of handling himself. It was those trains of thought that helped convince him that he truly felt nothing, and in the end, in the hollow of his chest, he was simply empty. Amazing what one could convince themselves of, and he walked out of the restroom from his scant relapse standing a little taller, his head held higher. Father was dead. Good riddance.

As the days past, he began to take comfort in the absence of the man that had dominated his life up until that point. However, that didn't mean he was completely untroubled. Another absence tugged at his mind as well: the supposedly loyal canine gifted to him by his parent was nowhere to be found. While his face remained a blank slate, this fact nagged at him. He had tried to go about his business in his usual manner, speaking blandly with the servants and signing papers. But that little thought lingered on in the back of his mind: Theo was gone.

He had been content to leave the canine be originally, because he too needed his space. Having a dog underfoot while he was still processing the reality of his father's death would have been...Matthias didn't even let that musing complete. Instead, he focused on the task at hand.

Leaving behind the chauffeur with the car at the entrance to the graveyard, the new CEO stepped out into the chill air and began his way down the path. The heels of his leather boots clicked rhythmically against the pavement, each step carefully measured, as meticulous as ever--like there had never been or ever would be any dramatic shifts or changes in his world view. The path to his father's grave was fresh in his memory due to the recent burial, and so finding the way was easy. Spotting the familiar figure of the canine in the distance, his crimson gaze narrowed though his pace remained the same, relaxed and unhurried.

Once he had drawn up a few paces behind the urakata, he came to a stop, and lingered in silence for a few beats. A stray breeze passed by, sending his lengthy silver hair rippling in the wind as well as lightly jostling the crisp fabric of his suit.

"There is nothing to mourn here." The words left him in his usual cool monotone, though there were deeper implications under the surface. A vague flavor of what do you think you're doing?