[The timing is different. It's one of the little things Yu forgets sometimes -- it takes longer to get there from the inn than it did from either the dojo or his little shared house with Yosuke, and he...forgot to take that into account. So he's a minute or two late, which is way later than he ever is when his head is on straight.
Right now, it's not.
The motorcycle is another hitch, another pause, another unexpected pang of a memory that he's not really ready to deal with. His footsteps pause for a moment, his attention lingering there as he exhales.
He doesn't like this. Any of it. The dreams...they remind him of how he used to be; the reservation in his actions, his unwillingness to really be with people. The wall he built up. But there was a part of him that didn't want to leave, didn't want to remember who he really was; didn't want to divorce reality from the strange kindness of forgetting. What does that say about him? That, for a few moments, he was willing to forget Mikey, forget Yosuke, just to keep from feeling this way? And here he is, even now trying to push people back, trying to put his heart back into a locked safe, trying to shove down all the little reminders that underneath it all, he's still a person who feels.
(And he wonders, at the moment, whether it's better to feel...or to push everything away and pretend he doesn't.)
For now, he tries to pull himself together.] Sorry I'm late. I hope you weren't waiting long.
[It's quite possibly the most generically polite way to greet someone when you're meeting like this. He leans on that politeness like a crutch, like a lifeline, as he debates the merits of retreat.]
no subject
Right now, it's not.
The motorcycle is another hitch, another pause, another unexpected pang of a memory that he's not really ready to deal with. His footsteps pause for a moment, his attention lingering there as he exhales.
He doesn't like this. Any of it. The dreams...they remind him of how he used to be; the reservation in his actions, his unwillingness to really be with people. The wall he built up. But there was a part of him that didn't want to leave, didn't want to remember who he really was; didn't want to divorce reality from the strange kindness of forgetting. What does that say about him? That, for a few moments, he was willing to forget Mikey, forget Yosuke, just to keep from feeling this way? And here he is, even now trying to push people back, trying to put his heart back into a locked safe, trying to shove down all the little reminders that underneath it all, he's still a person who feels.
(And he wonders, at the moment, whether it's better to feel...or to push everything away and pretend he doesn't.)
For now, he tries to pull himself together.] Sorry I'm late. I hope you weren't waiting long.
[It's quite possibly the most generically polite way to greet someone when you're meeting like this. He leans on that politeness like a crutch, like a lifeline, as he debates the merits of retreat.]