A hollow and numb feeling had settled over him for the past couple hours, and there wasn’t much that even his best friend had been able to do in order to help ease the passing pains that radiated from his chest… and yet, with it all, he knew nothing was wrong, at least not physically… so much else was wrong, but at the very least he knew he would not collapse in the next five minutes convulsing.
No, this was a different kind of pain, one of remembrance rather than one of warning… it was the kind of pain that nothing could truly ease because that which caused it was so external and touched the body in deeper and more mental ways… it was death, and the loss and grief and guilt that came with it. Seri had been the son to not return home; he’d had only a pawful of interactions with his father, both of them dancing around each other… and now, he would never have a chance to build the bridge that his mother had burned long before he was born.
Now it was too late, and Seri was left with an aching regret… and despite it all, it hurt more to know that Al had still cared for him, maybe even loved him, despite the borderline estranged nature of their relationship. Perhaps that was why he dragged his paws towards where he knew he might find their esteemed leader, clearing his throat softly when he saw him, his eyes still watering tearfully though he hadn’t let them fall. His voice cracked softly. “Mr. Viorel, sir?” Honestly, it became something of a miracle that he had kept it together as well as he had for even that.