ain't no compass, brother, ain't no map

He pretended he did not feel as if he was standing in front of a tapestry, complete and tightly woven, and as if he himself was not a knife prodding around the middle. Bruno should have felt at home, but there was so much left unsaid, and at this point he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it in fear of opening old wounds that had just healed. At the same time, though, he wasn't sure if he’d ever feel at home if he did not say it. How was he meant to just re-insert himself in this family as though they had not lost ten years? To attempt such a thing would have felt like unravelling the thread, undoing the growth that had happened without him, because no man could thrive in solitude and darkness, and Bruno felt like he was too behind to fit in ever again. Everyone was happy, looking remade and painfully youthful in the light of the summer sun, but Bruno felt too hot, too much, too much.

///

Or: It's the first proper meal together after Bruno comes home, and he feels a little overwhelmed.