subaru doesn't usually talk about it, doesn't like even thinking about it, but when it comes to people in pain -- it's easier, because he doesn't have to say as much or too little. he can leave things hanging, or say it in a certain way, and they'll understand. more than that, though, natsume doesn't broach that topic as much as he had before, and with such an earnest question--]
It's not really getting over, Natsume. Even though I cleared his name last year, and Mom's started to smile when she see idols again this year, it isn't something we've "gotten over"... it's more like we've become more used to him not being there anymore, though that's more for Mom than me.
[because he remembers his father more as an idol than anything. not just as that, he had times where they played catch, where they watched movies and sang and dance-- but more as an idol anyway.]
... But you learn to find them in the things they leave behind, [he says softly, voice a little gravelly at the effort.] And when you see those things, or hear them, or anything like that -- you remember the happy times you had with the person, and you smile. Like sparkling things and my dad, or your perfumes and Macchi.
[like he couldn't tell their lavenders matched from time to time. the way subaru will see the piano and always think of her, how she'd put her feelings into the piece she played and how you could tell so much about her day, her mood, from just that.]
no subject
subaru doesn't usually talk about it, doesn't like even thinking about it, but when it comes to people in pain -- it's easier, because he doesn't have to say as much or too little. he can leave things hanging, or say it in a certain way, and they'll understand. more than that, though, natsume doesn't broach that topic as much as he had before, and with such an earnest question--]
It's not really getting over, Natsume. Even though I cleared his name last year, and Mom's started to smile when she see idols again this year, it isn't something we've "gotten over"... it's more like we've become more used to him not being there anymore, though that's more for Mom than me.
[because he remembers his father more as an idol than anything. not just as that, he had times where they played catch, where they watched movies and sang and dance-- but more as an idol anyway.]
... But you learn to find them in the things they leave behind, [he says softly, voice a little gravelly at the effort.] And when you see those things, or hear them, or anything like that -- you remember the happy times you had with the person, and you smile. Like sparkling things and my dad, or your perfumes and Macchi.
[like he couldn't tell their lavenders matched from time to time. the way subaru will see the piano and always think of her, how she'd put her feelings into the piece she played and how you could tell so much about her day, her mood, from just that.]