Woven

Birds of a Feather

AUTHOR'S NOTE
It's been 3 years since I first started this fanfiction. Since then, I've received e-mail updates of every single comment, every single vote, ever single follow. Your support means more than you can imagine to me. That's why I'm up at 2 am writing a new part to an abandoned story. I can't thank you all enough. Without further ado, I'll let our story unfold from where it left off.

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You drove to the airport to pick up your father. He was definitely different than when you last saw him. His hair definitely wasn't as unruly as now. He also seemed to have lost some of his weight. Age lines marked his face like folds in a sheet of paper. You couldn't decide if he had let himself go, or tidied himself up.

"So..... what have you been up to all these years?" He asked reproachfully.

What have you been up to? That's what he asks? Not, "I abandoned you and your mother. Are you alright?" Not, "How is your mother?"

"....I've been busy," you decide to sidestep.

He frowns at that understandably. "....I know how awkward this must be for you. I know it hasn't been easy..."

"'Hasn't been easy'?" You demand. "We've been perfectly fine without you!" You stand your ground. You didn't need him, and you don't need to be pitied now.

He seems to disregard your hostile jab. "My own work hasn't been... fulfilling. I guess I just wanted to see your faces again."

You wish he would have 'shown his face again' for the last fourteen years. At least once a year on your birthday, maybe. But he didn't grace it.

"Mom said you wanted to see a movie," you began.

"Yes, I did... I do."

"Well..? Did you have anything in mind?" You demand, not wanting to be kept waiting.

"I was hoping that you would pick the movie. That way, I could get to know you a little better through your tastes. How's that sound?" He sounds cheerful enough, but you can tell how uncomfortable he is with you.

Of course he would be. You were almost strangers.

"Get in the car. I pick the music." You climbed back into the driver's seat of your car, eyes cast away from your passenger seat as your father seated himself and buckled in.

                               ____

The drive to the theatre was dreadfully quiet, even with your music blaring through the speakers. Your father never attempted to make conversation, and you returned his withdrawal.

When you entered the theatre, however, he seemed to feel closer. You chose to watch a film titled Cure. You could care less what it was about, though you had heard it was very well received in both the East and West. That settled the decision for both you and your father.

You didn't buy popcorn or a drink, but as you seated yourself a row above the middle seats, you began to regret it. Your mind wandered as you eyed your father idly, trying to piece together an image of the man you once called papa.

The film started rather suddenly, as you had been late getting there from the traffic.

After the movie had finished, you wished you would have paid more attention. Instead, your mind had been tracing the image of two bright red eyes. You chased it away any chance you got.

When you drove him back to your house, your mother gave you a pained look. Although she masqueraded that she was excited to see him, you could see through the charade; she was tense around him, prickling with apprehension. She wanted to demand answers.

Instead, you brought him inside and she invited him to have a cup of coffee. He happily obliged.

"Why are you here?" Your mother finally interrogated.

"Why, my job has been.." he swallowed down the bitter taste of his roast. "...rather stressful. I couldn't bear it anymore. Then I was looking through my files, and I found—..." he reached into his pants pocket and retrieved a small image. It shimmered in a filmy notion. "...a picture of my family. It was enough for me to decide to revisit my past and apologize for everything that I've done to cause grief among you two."

You slid the picture closer with a fingertip and examined it. You saw a much younger version of yourself in the arms of who could have been your mother, had she not been wracked with stress and the massive responsibility of being a single parent. Gee, whose fault could that possibly be?

"...I should never have left my family behind me," he continued. "I see now the impact of my foolish decisions, and I came to rekindle our family. I want to be with you two. And I settled my... work problem a while back. I have nothing to worry about anymore." His gaze rested softly on your mother, provoking her response.

You watched her critically inspect him. Then her shoulders relaxed, and her face softened. "....and you're certain it's fine? You won't have that problem ever again?"

"Of course, my love—..." He recoiled, as if in respect. He wasn't in the place to call her that. After all, you don't just drop everyone you love and head for the hills. "...[y/n], would you mind showing me around town? I would love to get to know what's changed since I was last in the area."

You gave your mother a cautious glance, exchanging a silent conversation. Then you sighed and stood up. "...Back in the car," you muttered.

And before you even got the chance to dial your snowy-maned troublemaker's office, you were shifting the gear of your car into reverse and backing out of the driveway.