Fandom: XXXHOLiC
Characters: Doumeki Shizuka, Watanuki Kimihiro, Kunogi Himawari, Ichihara Yuuko
Theme: 4 - Picture Perfect
Warnings/Ratings: If you were expecting tons of romance, I guess I'll warn you it's not here.
In A Nutshell: Watanuki reflects on his past, his present, and his future.
Disclaimer: If it were mine, it wouldn't even make sense.
Sometimes, late at night when he couldn't sleep, he would turn on a lamp, drag himself out of bed, and get a book from the bottom of his closet. It was a small thing and there wasn't much in it, but it always was just the thing for putting him to sleep.
There were some stories, written in the graceful strokes of his mother's handwriting or the nearly-illegible scrawl of his father's. Mostly, though, there were photographs. Not many, but enough. Watanuki looked in on his own happiness, feeling very much like a stranger to it. He flipped through the pages, always amazed at how it seemed as if there wasn't a moment they weren't smiling. Sometimes his heart ached with yearning for that all-but-forgotten past, but not so much anymore. When he'd gotten to the end of the book, stared at the last picture for a moment that stretched until it snapped, he'd place it back at the bottom of his closet, turn off the lamp, and flop down onto his bed. He used to curl up into a ball and go straight to sleep, but he doesn't do that so much anymore. Nowadays he lays back and thinks.
He thinks not of his parents, who are invariably dead and gone. He thinks of his friends, Himawari and Doumeki, and yes, even Yuuko, who are alive and with him. He thinks he'd someday like to make a book like his parents', filled with pictures and stories. But this would be overflowing with memories, unlike his parents' scant one. He would include pictures of the not-so-happy times as well, scolding Yuuko for drinking too much or yelling at Doumeki for being, well, Doumeki. He thought that this might not look as purely joyous as the one at the bottom of his closet did, but he would certainly like it better. He thought that maybe, someday in the future, he'd take out that book instead.
With that thought clinging to the fringes of his mind, he would roll over and finally get some rest.
Right! Uplifting story!
I feel like I'm spamming with my stories.
