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Tadashi doesn't know how to react upon seeing Aether for the first time in weeks.
Aether's bedroom is eerily dark. The curtains are drawn shut, lights switched off. Squinting his eyes in the dark, it takes him a moment to adjust until he manages to make out a figure lying on the bed. There's a quiet body under the blankets that remains unmoving despite his entrance. Provided that it was only Mathieu in the living room alongside a man whose name he remembers as Anthony, Tadashi finds that his worst fears are confirmed.
The scenario is too similar, as is the lighting and the mood. It nearly makes his chest constrict but he pushes the feeling down and swallows away the lump forming in his throat. The last thing Tadashi wanted to see was his worst assumptions, but there was nothing more he could do now that he was inside as well. He opens his mouth, tests the waters.
"...Aether?"
There's almost no response aside from the twitching of what he guesses is her leg. Pressing his lips together, he takes step after step forward, approaching the right side of the bed. It takes him a moment longer; the lack of light in the room makes it near impossible to properly navigate. The thought makes him wonder about Mathieu, and the feeling in his chest is only made even heavier.
"Aether, it...it's me." He fumbles for the lamp on the beside table and switches it on, and the person underneath the blankets gives a flinch. There's a bit of light, now; a pale but warm yellow that allows him to see much better. Tadashi attempts to ignore the unkempt room, the way the books on one of Aether's bookshelves remain untouched. He tries to ignore the full glass of water on the bedside table, tries to ignore how her phone lies beside it, probably filled to the brim with messages. He finds himself wishing that he had brought the sunflowers in; perhaps it would have brought a bit more color to her usual, warm-toned bedroom.
Aether doesn't respond, not really. She remains tucked under the blankets, and the sight is nearly comforting. It's almost enough to convince Tadashi that Aether was merely asleep: Aether was exhausted, Aether needed the rest. Aether took a much-needed break for a reason, and it wasn't his right to interject and disturb her recovery.
He wants to believe this very much, but he can't. The sight is too familiar. The heaviness is familiar. The quiet is familiar. The look in Mathieu's eyes upon Tadashi's entry into their apartment had been familiar; he had seen it long before, a number of years before everything had happened. The familiarity nearly makes him retreat but he can't, he can't, he can't.
Tadashi does his best to ignore the signs. He tries to ignore the knotted hair peeking out from underneath the blanket, tries to ignore the hoarse mumbling that comes from Aether's lips. He drags a nearby chair even closer and sits at her bed, waiting for something to happen.
"...why are you here?"
He doesn't know how to react. Aether doesn't get up, but she's talking, at least. Tadashi swallows yet another tight knot in his throat and manages a reply. "I wanted to check up on you."
"Did Mathieu...?"
Mathieu had, in fact, contacted him. The four or so texts from Mathieu had been bothering him since before he had decided to come. There had been a worried edge, a concerned note that he hadn't been able to shake off.
He doesn't tell Aether this. "How have you been doing, Aether?"
There's a pause, and then a short bark of unamused laughter. It makes his heart sink. "I don't know. I'm just...tired. I'm tired." He watches as she manages to push herself up, and Tadashi keeps himself glued to the seat, keeps himself from reaching out and embracing her as tightly as he could manage. Aether manages to face him and he stares, eyes wide and unable to say anything. "You don't have to say it. I know I look like shit."
"You don't, I..."
What else can he say? Tadashi tries to muster up the words while Aether looks at him with a blank look in her eyes, arms folded across her chest. It seems ridiculous. He had to say something, had to offer some kind of calming or sympathizing statement of two.
But his mind remains blank. The sight of Aether is enough to silence him. He didn't like the way the darker circles hang under her eyes, how her hair appears matted and messy, how the shirt she wears appears to be one, two sizes bigger. The current image of her completely went against how he usually saw her: put together, sharp, a little reluctant but having an eager fire in her eyes.
In that moment, none of the aforementioned qualities seemed to stick.
Aether looked...empty.
As he struggles, Aether allows the corner of her mouth to lift slightly. It's a little dry, more on the sardonic side. There's no humor in it, no happiness whatsoever. Tadashi finds himself admitting that it looks as hollow as she does as a whole.
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing? Hell, I should be the one saying sorry." Aether leans against the headboard and closes her eyes for a brief moment. "Sorry for not really talking. Sorry for looking like this." He watches as the attempt at a smirk fades away, "...I should apologize to Mathieu," she mumbles as an afterthought.
"No, I...I'm sorry that it has to be this way." Aether barely glances in his direction, and Tadashi takes that as an opportunity to continue. "You're the last person in the world who deserves this. What happened at the gala was–" he stops himself. The last thing Aether needed was a reminder of the gala. It was the last thing anyone needed, really; and that included himself. "–you just deserve better than this, okay?"
"...but what is this, Tad?"
Soft. Aether's voice is much softer, much fainter. Whatever cynicism that had been there earlier on disappears. It makes him swallow nervously as the topic rears its ugly head, as Aether opens her eyes and glances up at the ceiling.
"What is this?" She repeats. But it doesn't seem like she's directing the question at him, not really. He has no choice but to listen as Aether gathers her thoughts, "Everything is just...everything's exhausting. Moving is exhausting. Getting out of the room is exhausting. Eating is exhausting. Trying to talk to Mathieu is exhausting, but it isn't his fault; he's trying and trying and I know that he's trying, it's just–"
Her voice cracks. Aether's fists ball at her sides and Tadashi can almost swear that she's digging her nails into her palms, that her hands are shaking.
All he wants to do is to take her hands into his own and squeeze her sadness and pain away. He's done that long ago; back to a time where Aether had been younger, more naive, but less hurt and fragmented and defeated. He can't count how many times he's grabbed her hands during work, when it was just the two of them. It was a habit, really; in an attempt to feel something, she'd end up digging her nails into her palms. Most of the time, they'd barely leave wounds. Aether never left wounds, not at all.
Tadashi knows this habit all too well. He balls his own fists as well and keeps himself from doing the same to his palms.
"...I'm so, so tired."
It's a quiet admission. Aether mumbles it to herself as an afterthought, but Tadashi hears. He hears her and his worst fears are confirmed; they're staring him in the face and for a moment, Tadashi sees himself sitting on the bed, hair an honest mess and himself looking wearier than he had ever been. Tadashi sees himself, sees the dull color, sees the lack of vibrancy.
It hits too close too home. Tadashi inhales.
Aether doesn't say anything else, not really. She eventually looks back at him and Tadashi tries to comfort her with a single glance, but it doesn't seem to reach her. She simply looks at him. There's no demand for an answer, no desperate attempt to find out what's wrong, no outrage at her own situation. Aether doesn't make an attempt to find the truth, and that realization makes Tadashi bite at his lip.
She's not stupid. Tadashi knows this. Aether isn't stupid. What is this? Aether hadn't been looking for an answer, not at all. It seems like she's known the answer for the longest time.
You deserve better than this.
But what is this?
He glances her way again. Aether's sighing, closing her eyes. The cynicism has stopped, at least for now. But in its place is exhaustion, and Tadashi can see how it's made a home in all the corners of her room, in her bed, in her knotted hair. "...you should keep Mathieu company," she mumbles. "He needs it more than I do."
"Aether–"
"Please." She's sinking back under the blankets again, pulling them over herself. When she speaks again, her voice is a mumble. "...you're better off spending time with Mathieu." She doesn't say anything after that, and Tadashi knows that his time has run out. She pretends to sleep, but both of them know that she isn't sleeping. Aether's been sleeping for hours on end; she doesn't need any more than she's already gotten. (He knows this due to experience.)
Tadashi rises from the chair silently. The room has gone quiet once more; it's dark and dull and the edges don't look as sharp. Whatever glow that had come from the lone light seems a little bit less illuminating despite neither of them adjusting the power. He can hear her breathing, hear her uneasy breaths. God knows that the last thing she needed was to be alone, but what more could he do? What else could he do?
He stops in front of the door and turns his head to glance at her one last time. Aether's still buried beneath the covers, pillows acting like some kind of barrier between her and the rest of the world. He wants to say something, but what? What else can be said?
Tadashi doesn't know, but he tries anyway.
"...I'll come back, alright?" No answer. It's a feeble thread, but it's some kind of lifeline nonetheless. He waits for a hum, a mumble, anything.
But Aether is quiet, and the door is firmly shut.
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