It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

You Will Bear The Full Brunt of My Hurt (4)

"No." Yang's stare, previously resolute (actually, Matt was expecting it to be so cold no summer heat could melt it), was dripping in exhaustion. His hotel room was, somehow, darker than Matt and the childrens' rooms, though he wasn't certain why that was.

"Why not?" Matt asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're not giving good reason."

"Is 'not wanting to see my dead sister' enough?" He hunched over the built-in desk, facing away. The desktop was already so cluttered it mirrored his desk in the home on Cherry Street.

Matt sighed, leaning back. "Sir, I understand, but I'm not asking you to put it in your bedroom room, or in plain sight." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Don't most Eastern cultures have an altar to memorialize passed relatives?"

Yang's eyes narrowed. "Is that a sweeping allegation?"

"I don't know, sir. My knowledge of that is limited. Did you have an altar growing up?"

The older man sifted through papers in his hands. "I think you might be mixing up some cultures, Mr. Robinson. Not very appropriate."

"Then prove me wrong."

Mr. Yang pursed his lips and sighed. "...yes, my parents had an altar in our...living room." A look crossed his face, too indiscernible for Matthew to read. "I do not want an altar in my house, though."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Something about years of the deceased watching over you. My parents altar was choked with portraits, people I did not know. People they knew by name but nothing else." His sunken brown eyes switched back to Matthew. "I...do not want that."

"You don't have to. Just have a picture of them. Do you have to add people to it every time?"

Yang shrugged again.

"I'm not saying you have to reinvent the wheel, sir. I'm saying that you and Eli have the opportunity to remember them. Lilly won't remember, obviously, but you and Eli have something to connect over."

He stared.

"I want you two to feel like you're not on opposite sides, sir."

"I am not ready," Yang whispered.

"You don't have to," Matt enunciated. "Let the sadness in the both of you be the thing that brings you two together. Gods, saying that out loud makes me sound so assholish."

"Language, Mr. Robinson."

"Language, Jun." The barb was soft, tentative.

Mr. Yang seemed to understand. His features relaxed and sagged, and he pressed the small of his back against the desk. He crossed his arms. "I am still sorry, Matt," he sighed. "For...everything. The slap. The kiss. All of it."

Matt's eyes narrowed. "What did you think was going to happen? After...the last one? Just curious."

"I do not know. I was angry, and not thinking clearly. I could say 'I would not do that', but I think it does little when I already have." He paused. "I thought you...if that happened, I thought we could..." Yang trailed off, shaking his head. "No point rehashing a mistake. You know what I said."

He nodded, soaking in the silence. Matthew did not press.

"Matt, I can't."

"Think about it, or put up the altar?"

"Either? Both?"

"Will you think about...thinking about it?"

Yang sighed, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn up in a smirk. "Worst case scenario: Elliot blames me for not caring about his parents. He mocks me for putting it up. He mocks better than most of the men I work with. I cannot live like that for the rest of my life."

Matthew breathlessly chuckled. "What about a middle ground? Not-Worst-Not-Best case scenario: you put it up, Eli is skeptical of you." He opened his mouth, clicking his teeth in contemplation. "What other traditions are there in Eastern cultures to honor the dead?"

He raised a brow.

"Eli might really be into that. He did 'bless' Brookfell's auditorium with carving right-facing arrows into the walls."

"He what?"

"I'm just saying he might really be into all the post-death memorial stuff. He already knew to light candles and incense for them." He shrugged. "Maybe adding a few more...rituals could be good bonding. Besides...he doesn't know how embarrassing – or human – his mom was, either."

"How about you suggest I take him to their graves? Will you ask me to dig them up while you are here, as well?"

Matthew bobbed his head. "I don't doubt he'd consider it, but I don't think Eli's that intense. Though the idea about you two going to their graves could be good. For the both of you."

The look in Yang's eyes changes. It's tinted blue and glossy, yet his stare stays hard and narrowed, as if he was hoping Matt could not sway him any further. Yet the following, "Hm," was short but meandering, so thoughtful that he knew.

Matthew stood. "I'll leave it up to you, sir, but let me know if you need me. I don't want to prod, and I don't want you to feel like you have no power in all of this. I am not the one doing this. We are."

Yang nodded. He drew in a slow breath, shoulders rising with the inhale, and nodded again. "Thank you...for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Robinson." His stare turned back to Matt. "I will think...about it."