Coming home feels hollow.

Well, to be honest, everything feels hollow nowadays. Which, surprisingly, is a relief to Eddward because he still remembers the time where every day felt like an icepick to the sternum, causing his lungs to fill with blood until he just couldn't breathe.

The numbness is a nice reprieve and so he welcomes it, basks in it even though it's obvious that his apathy makes his parents incredibly uncomfortable as they busy themselves unpacking his things.

Which isn't really a lot. Eddward hadn't taken anything with him- hadn't been in the mindset to take anything with him- and his parents had been much too concerned with keeping up appearances to think of sending Eddward any of his belongings and so, over the years, he's only managed to accumulate enough to barely fill a single medium-sized suitcase but his parents busy themselves with unpacking it, shoving the few articles of clothing into old, labelled drawers and the few odd books onto his dusty worn shelf.

"I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to cleaning it." His mother says nervously, still unable to meet her disappointment of a son's eyes. "I know you like things to be in order. But, you know, I've been so busy with things lately."

Eddwards nods, pretending to understand why his absent mother couldn't be bothered to dust his room in the nearly four years that he's been gone but in truth, he couldn't be bothered enough to care either way. He had only ever cleaned because he was so worried that if he didn't, and his parents happened to actually come home, that they would be so disappointed in him that they wouldn't bother to stay or even come around at all anymore.

Now, all Eddward wants is solitude.

His parents leave him in his room without much more fuss, having been reminded repeatedly by his therapist to give him space upon his return as to not increase his level of anxiety. But, unsurprisingly, all Eddward is feeling is tiredness and he awaits the time where he reasonably dart off to bed without arousing any suspicions and sleep and sleep and sleep.

What he once regarded as merely a necessary function in order to remain healthy is now his favorite part of the day and any emotion he may currently be feeling is centered around the approaching mark of 9:00 where he can shed his clothes and fall into his usual comatose state.

He joins his parents for dinner, feigning normal human emotion as his parents mechanically attempt to make conversation with him- something they didn't even bother to do when he was healthy and happy- attempting, and failing, to incite excitement in him in regards to his return to regular school tomorrow.

But in actuality, Eddward knows that they just didn't want his old school to be featured on his diploma, fearing that it would scare off potential university recruiters from adding Eddward to their collection of Ivy League drones and in doing so, have cemented Eddward's status as a miserable failure.

Eddward makes noncommittal noises and nods and when 9:00 comes around, he feigns an excessive amount of yawning and stretching till his parents suggest that he get some sleep to prepare for his upcoming return to normal civilization.

Eddward feels a semblance of excitement as he fights not to rush up the stairs, feeling something akin to eagerness as he hastily strips off his clothing and clambers into bed.

It is only when he settles that he realizes how he used to be and, with a sigh, he lumbers off the bed and collects his clothing, folding them neatly before placing them in their respective labelled drawers.

He takes out a pair of stiff, new pajamas- having been gone so long that his old, well-worn pair no longer fit his awkward teenaged frame- and puts them on with a note of distaste before returning to his bed.

Staring up at the ceiling which features his old solar system model, dusty and labelled like everything from his old life, and feels a twinge of bitterness at the memory of how he used to be.

Sighing and forcing his eyes shut, he turns to his side, curling into a fetal position and tugging the covers over his head as he forces himself into dreamless slumber.

Still, before sleep claims him, he can't help but think

Welcome back to Peach Creek, Eddward. Try not to fuck up again.

That night, Eddward doesn't dream.