Her tension came with a rhythm. It was uneven like her thoughts, like her emotions. Diamond density in bird body, and then hollow bones again. Inside his arms she was seeing all the tides of sorrow. So this was what she'd become while he was away. A woman who collected all her feelings, and ran away with them. It made his tongue bitter. What choice did she have, with a wasting man to take care of. Maybe it was fair that he held her, after all, because everything in this erupting bundle was his. The consequences of his absence built on a girl that hadn't done anything wrong. He should feel worse, but the fact of his continued cowardice had already set in him long ago.<br/><br/>He knew he shouldn't. The kind thing to do would be to let go and take a step back, so she could have her anger, so her father's funeral wouldn't be about a returning boy who'd left her with the worst treason. Really, the only job a brother has is to protect his younger siblings. He'd come for Jonas, hadn't he? This wasn't his to take care of. She was entitled to waste away in her mourning or her quivering wrath. He told himself that he was taking the edge off for her, but why did it feel so sanctimonious then? For dark enough crimes, any punishment is relief.<br/><br/>Back when she'd been half his height, and he'd made her cry, put those scars on her, he had no trouble landing on his knees and asking her to forgive him. His fingers dancing like kelp would eventually convince her out of Jonas's arms and into his. Father's are safe, but brothers are fun. She just wanted to smile. And in the background, somewhere, Miranda was sitting in the shadow, with her wine. A family of all nuances. Reno didn't associate him with laughter and excitement anymore. He'd not been her avatar of adventure for a while. What kind of totem was he now, planted by a grave with the same roots as her, beating like a heart while being heartless?<br/><br/>He wanted to be merciful. It could be enough - to have come all this way to accept her rejection. It could be the last bouquet at her feet. But he wasn't selflessly at her service anymore, not like back when all she wanted was his silence and one more treat. She would want other things from him now, seething in the spectrum of truths that a grown woman had learned. It was in him not hear her right. Still, he closed his eyes slowly and drank up her spoken hatred, and subtracted it from what he owed. He even held her tighter for it. His gratitude was an insult, surely.<br/><br/>"I'm sure you're right." he said. But he wasn't. Part of him knew that Jonas would have welcomed him back. They might have words or a skirmish, and then he might have been able to rehabilitate the father he'd emasculated. That unrealized eventually floating in the sea behind him was part of his misery, after all. If this was the only thing he could have done, he'd be gladder, standing here. And so would she. His hands pressed her shoulderblades as he let go.<br/><br/>"I'm not touching you anymore, then, Ren." he noted and looked at the keys he'd stolen. That fucking emblem. It was still shit ugly. He'd seen the truck, half swallowed in the cold vapor, lonely like his bike in the cemetery lot. It had been a tight squeeze for their make-shift family, and on summer days it was unpleasant and sweaty, but Reno had been in the middle of it all, smiling and squinting with the sun in her eyes. Their fixture of love.<br/><br/>Until she wasn't.<br/><br/>"Give me a sec. I have to load up my bike." Like she would come no matter what. All he had was this arsenal of her weaknesses. He'd not wanted to leave, that day, but he'd gotten what he wanted ever since, at least. There was silver disarray in his wake, just like when Jonas would flip the bundle of keys, and when she arrived at her car, her family car, Volk's motorcycle would be secure on the bed and he would be leaned over the hood, elbows down and a cigarette in his fingers. He could play pretend, but if he didn't see her coming, all the health from his face had gone, washed away by the ash smoke. Grim, self inflicted disdain hollowing him out. It filled like a lung when he saw her.<br/><br/>"Bet you I can park this on a dime by his shed still." he said and smiled with tired eyes, the ember old on the stick in the red lips. Life showed on him, and he'd made it work for the city girls, worn it like a badge, but Reno knew it came from inward abuse, and that is wasn't beautiful even when the wind tousled his hair forward, and blinded one eye.