not_that_spike: (taking things apart)
[personal profile] not_that_spike
As the days go by, they take on a sameness: he wakes up alone, he moves through the day oblivious to other people, he eats alone, he sleeps alone. It's nothing he's not used to but it doesn't mean he likes it. It really... kind of sucks.

A lot.

But if it's what Beth needs to do, he can do it. Even if it's taking longer than he hoped.

She'll be back. She said she would. He just... well, yeah. Everyone knows how he feels. He misses them. It reminds him in some ways of when Julia first disappeared, and he held this burning flame of hope in his heart that any moment now, he'd open his eyes and she'd be there. Looking at him from around a corner, or sitting by the side of the bed when he woke up, or on the other end of the phone, or down the block walking toward him. It's just that she never did, and that was then and this is different.

Because there really isn't any other choice -- a lot like then -- he can wait.

In the meantime, his feet are up on the coffee table and he's got a glass of water and a pack of cigarettes and he's reading. He hasn't read this much since he was on the Bebop, and that's both good and bad. It draws his mind away from things for a while, but he's distracted. His eyes can't really focus on the words on the page, even though the book he's reading on the history of personal spacecraft in the 2050s is a little bit interesting. He's read it before, but not for a long time.

Fuck it: setting it aside, he disappears into the bedroom for a minute, reemerging from the portrait into the living room with a box in his hand. Inside are a bunch of interlocking blocks -- Legos, he thinks they're called -- that he got from Bar a few days ago when he asked her idly for something to take his mind off things. Clearing the coffee table, he sets his cigarette into the ashtray and starts building. When he's done, the blocks are going to be shaped into that house on Venus they've never had a chance to buy.
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June 2009

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