Anata ga Ita Kara
See disclaimer in 01
Theme: 29 – "Nothing is more beautiful than a love that has survived the weathered journey of life."
Rating: K+
Summary: There's nothing quite like a day in the park for a little boy. Open skies, long slides, puppy love, and… parents making out on the bench? At least his friends think it's cute.
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It was the middle of fall, and the playground was filled with small children running in different directions, chased by parents or playmates or older siblings, queuing up for the slide and the monkey bars or the swings.
There was one couple, however, not out actively pursuing their child.
Their son was out there, they knew, playing with his two best friends—blonde, blue-eyed sisters, the elder of which was his first crush (and knew it, and enjoyed taking advantage of him for it), the younger of which was apparently suffering her first crush on him (and it really shouldn't have been precious how he was entirely oblivious, but they winced and laughed as they watched her follow him everywhere with starry eyes). But where other parents worried to an obsessive degree that their precious babies would pick up a scrape or a bruise or (the horror) a splinter, they remembered and understood that to receive small hurts in the pursuit of play was the way of youth.
They also trusted that if he did get some hurt out of the ordinary, he would come to them so that they could take car of it. (Seven he might be, but sense was one of the boy's virtues.)
So knowing, they were content to sit back and lean on each other and watch, smiling.
"It makes you wonder, a little… how our parents ever did this," Kumo said quietly, snuggling into Kiri's shoulder. "It's that tiring."
"Maybe so." Kiri leaned over, planted a kiss on Kumo's forehead. "Still, I know we could never've made any other choice."
"Hmmn." Winding slightly chilly fingers into his lover and partner's jacket, Kumo tilted his face up for Kiri's kiss.
If there were a few fine lines on their faces that hadn't been there a few years ago, what did it matter? With age came grace, and with that grace, a different kind of beauty. If their discussions today focused as much on their child and his life as on their own, they didn't notice. If their nights were less passionate, it was because they'd come to realize that sleeping curled together with their son between them was just as precious and much more important.
And, anyway, they couldn't pretend they were young anymore.
Still, what had once been tempestuous and passionate between them had remained, and changed, strengthened—become eternal.
---
Out on the playground, Stella elbowed him and giggled.
"They're at it again," she proclaimed almost wickedly, pointing.
He turned, saw, pushed his hands through his soft white hair, and tried not to groan. It wasn't as though he minded when they got all silly and kissy at home, but when they were out in public and Stella was there to pick on him about it—
"Jeez, just look at 'em go." Stella kept giggling. "Nobody else's mom and dad are like that. Hee."
Turning with a flounce of her shiny blonde hair, she danced off through the woodchips.
He groaned again, closed his deep green eyes and rubbed them. Man, parents could be so—
There was a shy tug at his sleeve, and he blinked and looked down at where Shirley was standing at his elbow, smiling at him, her face flushed (from the chill?).
"I… think it's nice," she said softly, turning her smile back on his parents. "That they're still in love, I mean… not a lot of people have that."
Touched and momentarily distracted from the utter mortification of the girl of his seven-year-old dreams witnessing his parents being publicly affectionate, he blushed a little and smiled at her and took her hand for a moment.
The next, Stella was making a sulky face at them and doing an impatient jig further down the playground. "Come on," she called, pointing up ahead. "The slide's open! Are you coming or what?!"
Their moment half-forgotten, the two of them chased after her in answer.
Owari.
