There was a saying he remembered from his journey
Title : Mirrors
Author : DnKS – giRLs
Rating : PG
Pairing : KuroFai
Disclaimer: We hold claim over neither these characters nor the story
Warning: None, it seems, just the overuse of the concept of mirrors
There is a story he remembers from his journey. He does not remember where or when he heard it. Maybe it was a world back, or two. Maybe it was a month back, or two.
No, his mind supplies him. Not a world back, and not even two. Not a month back, and not even two. It was long in the distant past, in a time when laughter was not really laughter and a smile was only a far cry of happiness. Yet he remembers it was his smile that had earned him the story. He still remembers the story, even though the when and where have already slipped his mind. He still remembers how there was a slight breeze and a faint scent of freshly baked bread in the air (funny how his mind remembers trivial things yet fails to remember much more essential and important thing). He still remembers seeing a frail old lady struggled in vain to lift up a box full of something (funny how people struggled and failed when he gave up and prevailed). He still remembers the smile she gave him as he helped her with her load (funny how a smile on others' face can give him warmth yet a smile on his face never produced any).
And he remembers her soft voice as she told him a story while he carried her box to her house. She told him a story about mirrors. Mirrors never lied, the old lady told him, they would only give you the image of what you really are. Mirrors are beautiful, the old lady told him, because they never tried to be beautiful. In mirrors, people saw their present, said the old lady, and in mirrors, people saw their future. In mirrors people saw reality, said her again, and in mirrors they saw dreams.
That time, he smiled.
He was not surprised when at the old lady's house he opened the box only to see it filled to the rim with mirrors. He declined politely when the lady offered him to take one. He did not need any mirror. He did not want a mirror that could not lie. He did not want a mirror that was beautiful. He did not want to see his present; neither did he want to see his future. He had no need to see reality and he had long since discarded the concept of dreams.
But now, as he looks at himself at the mirror before him, he remembers those words again. With a sigh he looks at his reflection being displayed across the surface of the mirror. One golden eye stares back at him. One, he reflects on, and not even blue anymore.
His hand reaches for the comb. Slowly he runs the comb into knots and tangles in his hair. His long, blonde hair, he muses as he watches his reflection. It was not so hard to see himself with long hair again.
This is his present state. This creature who stares back at him with his sparkling golden eye is him. This creature who stares back at him with his fingers weaving amidst the fine strands of blonde hair is him. This creature who stares at him with such a serene expression as if he has made peace with the world is him.
This is his present.
This time, he smiles.
Another face joins his on the mirror's surface. A set of deep red ruby eyes stares into his. A large hand grips his.
No, he reminds himself, not grips.
A large hand holds his.
The hand seizes the comb from his hand and he watches in mild curiosity as the other takes over the task of combing his hair. The action was endearing and he could not repress the slight shiver he feels every time those fingers brush across his nape.
He stares at their image in the mirror.
Will this be his future? Will this be their future?
"Wear it long," his companion says to him in his gruff voice. His hand never once abandons the task of combing his hair.
"Why?" he asks with a slight tilt of his face, with a slight smile on his lips, with so much love in his eye.
The hand stops its works and he could see how his hair falls in cascading wave against his shoulders. He blinks as he feels hands gently clasping his shoulders from behind. Or are they not hands, he thinks. Should he say there is a hand on one of his shoulder and something-not-really-hand on his other?
He feels something in his chest tighten as his eye takes the image. The hand, the not-really-hand, or the hands, or the not-really-hands. No matter, he decides. This is his fault. This is his burden.
This is reality.
"I like it like this," his companion says, breaking his thoughts. The deep red eyes soften for a moment. The lips on that face bear the resemblance of a smile. Before suddenly, the hands on his shoulders move to envelop him in a warm embrace. Before finally, those lips make their descent to the top of his head and give a kiss amidst his soft strands of hair.
His expression, he notices, is something so beautiful he almost could not believe it. His smile, he notices, is for once so honest with no lie hidden in it. It takes him a second longer before he grasps the hands that are embracing him.
Is this a dream?
He laughs as the other nuzzles his neck. The arms around his body tighten in playful manner.
This is his present, he thinks as he turns his face.
And this is his future, he thinks as they kiss without any intention else than to just simply kiss.
This is reality, he thinks as his fingers traced the lines of scars his companion bear for his sake.
And this is dream, he thinks as he sees love, oh so much love, in those eyes. He does not need mirrors, after all. Those blazing red eyes are his mirrors. They show him his present and give him his future. They make him see reality and at the same time, they teach him how to dream.
- end –
(A/N: Uh… well… would you please tell us your opinion on this piece of fic? We will be grateful for your deed and thank you deeply for that. Hope you have a good reading.)