Alone now. He'd been with someone almost the entire trip. But now, as Mot closed the door behind him into his bedroom, it all hit him. He no longer had a reason to hold back. All that worry and fear. He wanted to scream, cry and just lose it. However, as much as he was now able to do this, since he was alone, nothing came. His heart ached, his soul felt thin and worn, his eyes burned, but that was likely from the slow healing process after the burns he sustained. Part of him was holding back consciously since he didn't want to disturb his neighbours. But mostly, just nothing came.

He'd rested with his team prior to coming home, but he hadn't slept. Not uncommon. He always had a hard time sleeping. The thought to have some of Xiu's tea was there, but he was still fresh out. Sleep would have to wait until his insomnia gave him a break.
It was just as well. How could he sleep? Sure, his everything hurt, but memories of his trip stained his mind. He could not rest.

Mot kicked off his boots, and looked down at himself as he realized he'd somehow forgotten his bag somewhere in the human world. He didn't have anything of value in it, other than his spare clothes. Not a total loss. However..
There was no hat. The only gift he truly ever wanted and begged and pleaded with his parents to have. He had earned it from his Mother when he worked tirelessly for a whole year to get perfect scores, just so he could have that hat. He'd suffered a week of being home alone with a hard-a** tutor doing nothing but studying until his parents returned. And for it all, he received that hat.

To Mot, the hat meant more than a favourite article of clothing It was proof he had made his Mother proud. Over the years, he refused to be without it. It made him feel strong, secure. Now it was gone. As far as he knew, it was still on that battlefield; burned, crushed. Gone.
Mot squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling harshly. If he went back home without it, what would his mother say? Would she be disappointed that he let a precious gift get destroyed? Perhaps she would see it as recklessness, and deem him unworthy of her love. He had not cherished it enough. Clearly.

Mot shook his head, ruffling his hair into a bigger mess than it already was. No sleep. No sleep for a long while. It was no big deal. Mot hardly slept as it was. Yes, he was ignoring Cricket's instruction.
The reaper stripped off his gloves, vest and shirt (which still had on it the strange star the Boo Boss had given him), tossing them to the floor as he made his way to the bathroom. He definitely needed a good long shower.

The shower was agonizingly painful.

All his cuts and burns felt like they were on fire in the hot shower. He turned the temperature down hurriedly, down down down. The shower was now cold, and uncomfortably so. However this was the only way to get clean without feeling like he was on fire.
As he washed up, he remembered the fire that had killed him. It was scalding, yet freezing all at once. Every inch of him felt so odd as the two opposite afflictions had consumed him, seeping into his core. He had died. It was his first death. As a reaper, he wanted to accept that as a part of life. One thing helped him do that. He had not died alone. Hel was there. He'd died with her, held in her arms, and his arms around her. That was the only solace in it. Having her die was not what he wanted. None of his friends deserved it. But they'd experienced it together. Somehow, it made him feel a little better.

His horrid excuse for a shower done, Mot slipped into jeans and a loosely buttoned shirt. He would be going nowhere for a while. He hated to be alone, yet he also did not want to see anyone. Not like this, with his face glaringly reminding others of the trip that killed their teacher.

Now what? Mot still refused to sleep. There had to be something. FooFoo was still with Mac. FooFoo would only get in the way. Too clingy, needy. He wasn't ready to care for his pet.

Mot spent the rest of the day cleaning. He picked up articles of clothing, humming softly to himself. His throat was sore, but an urge broke through. He wanted to sing as he cleaned up.
“I'd give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you'd feel me somehow..”
The reaper sang softly, in his usual raspy voice, as he collected laundry and clutter.

“..and all I could taste is this moment.. and all I can breathe is your life..
Well sooner or later it's over.. I just don't wanna miss you.. tonight..”
He paused momentarily, features softening. The floor was cleared of it's clutter, and he moved to start cleaning surfaces with a damp rag.

“And I don't want the world to see me, cause I don't think that they'd understand..”
It didn't matter if the walls were thick or thin. Mot sang as if it was a form of therapy.
“When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.”

Mot's room was usually tidy, but soon it would sparkle, as he dedicated hours to getting everything looking perfect. Subconsciously, he was trying to impress a mother who would never see this room. Impress her.. he wanted to see her, apologize for losing the gift she'd given him. He wanted, more than anything, for her to be proud.
There had to be a way. A way to show how much he'd improved, if that was even the case to begin with.

“You can't fight the tears that ain't comin', or the moment of truth in your lies.
When everything feels like the movies...
..Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive.”