Post by kiwii ღ on Feb 16, 2013 5:22:06 GMT -5
( pairing: reikuto | words: 2219 )
wow okay sorry about the total suckiness and oocness of everything asdhgjk. this is why i don't write fics with other peoples' charries... or, well, why i don't write fics in general.
so anyways this is basically like one of those song!fics that ari used to do, and it's based off of this song, which i would reeeally recommend that you listen to while and/or before you read this- ...or, actually, just don't even read it at all, k. just listen to the song because it's pretty and sad and i really wanted to write a fic on it because i had an idea in my head on how to do it anD THEN IT TURNED OUT LIKE CRAP. so just ignore everything kbye.
so anyways this is basically like one of those song!fics that ari used to do, and it's based off of this song, which i would reeeally recommend that you listen to while and/or before you read this- ...or, actually, just don't even read it at all, k. just listen to the song because it's pretty and sad and i really wanted to write a fic on it because i had an idea in my head on how to do it anD THEN IT TURNED OUT LIKE CRAP. so just ignore everything kbye.
| [atrb=border,0,true] [atrb=width,400,bTable] [/style][style=float: right; margin-top: -8px; border: 4px solid #2E1B0F; height: 68px; width: 70px; border-radius: 3px; background-image: url(http://i417.photobucket.com/albums/pp256/doggydude24/misc%20icons/pianooo_zps09aa916e.png);] {{ BECAUSE LIFE CAN DO – TERRIBLE THINGS [STYLE=margin-left: 0px; padding-left: 13px; padding-top: 40px; padding-bottom: 3px; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; color: #171007; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: -1px; border-left: 15px solid #2E1B0F; margin-top: 40px; margin-right: 0px; text-indent: 10px;]█ It was most definitely routine for him now to choose this specific day to drink the night away; typically, no one was ever there to keep him company on this annual 'celebration' aside from his own son, young and naive as he was at his age. Nakamura Satoshi was eight years old; Shinkuto, on the other hand, was a horrible father – in his own head, at least. But he really couldn't help it. It wasn't even like he got himself drunk all the time. This particular night, however, marked the date of him and Reiko's wedding anniversary. Eleven years today. Eight or so years since he began spending their anniversaries and all other days of the year without her. This day, March twenty-first, was what now felt like the loneliest day of the year for him, each and every year. It was the day that he had spent, time after time, thinking back on the same old memories and with the same old brand of alcohol at the ready. Bottle in hand, he'd wander their near-empty household in search of something he knew he wouldn't find. Or, rather, someone. But se wouldn't be here, he knew. Not this time, or the next, or even the time after that... She was gone. Normally, when given the chance, his son would steer clear of his father especially on this day. Satoshi always knew well enough that it was no good idea for him to interfere when Shinkuto was experiencing yet another drunken stupor. He'd be able to make out his father's unsteady footsteps and hear him tripping around the house, then decide it best to hide himself away in his own bedroom until the following morning. It was always when this time of year came around that the shell of a man he called "Daddy" became exceptionally distant. Even more than he usually was. However, surprisingly, on this occasion, Satoshi proved himself to be rather brave, after daring to set foot in his father's wake, as well as openly addressing the older male who then halted in his tracks at the sound of that innocent tone. Shinkuto turned, somewhat lethargically, to face he who had called out, only to be met with the sight of the same guileless expression Satoshi's mother used to wear. The need for a "bedtime story" had been airily suggested, to which Satoshi gave an eager nod of his head. Shinkuto urged the boy to sit himself down, then stumbled on over to pull up a chair in front of him; falling back into the seat, he heard it screech slightly against the hardwood floor of the dining room with what momentum had been applied, all in accordance to his clumsy, drunken movements. His son's reaction was one of visible concern – his eyebrows furrowed and his shoulders tensed, he called out to his father with worry in his tone, only for Shinkuto to dismiss it with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head. Letting out a long, tentative sigh, it was only then that the older Nakamura noted the absense of the beer bottle which previously resided in his hold. He'd have risen once more to go fetch it, were it not that he'd already gotten comfortable where he was, and that his son seemed already so bated, so expectant. Suspense was in his eyes, which had Shinkuto insisting that they not appear as such. There was little here to trouble himself with, or so Shinkuto had told him; nothing to fear, not yet. Not at least until he'd started his story, that is. Eyeing the child in his disconcerted innocence, Shinkuto made himself out to smile – something reassuring, something not entirely unsettling – but as it came to be, it looked more along the lines of bitter and miserable, despite its intent for solace. But with all the alcohol flowing through his system, he couldn't quite help its nostalgic effects and its dismal influence. Then, with a hiccup, he began. "By the time I was your age," he started, "I'd give anything- to fall in love truly was all I could think." He looked unsure of the words which spilled from his mouth, but knew to blame his intoxication for whatever senselessness accompanied his vocabulary in this case. "That's when I met your mother: the girl of my dreams, the most beautiful woman that I'd ever seen." Much as it hurt his heart to have to bring Reiko up to his generally unknowing son, it did, at the same time, provide him a sense of consoling – just the thought of her from back before all the 'terrible things' happened was enough to give him that. Drawing himself up with a steeling breath, he rubbed his hands together to somehow develop more nerve for himself. "She said–" "Boy, can I tell you a wonderful thing?" His mind raced back to that particular evening, practically hearing Reiko's voice speak the words for herself inside his head; there they both were, standing together amidst a snow-covered location in town. It was, of course, a little over a decade since their first meeting by the time this certain day came around, but regardless of how long it'd been, Shinkuto figured he'd have been able to recall it just as clearly as this. Twirling about beneath the falling snow a few feet before him was the Hatsuna girl, all bundled up in whatever wintery gear she could afford. As soon as she stopped, she looked to him, almost catching him by surprise with the way her eyes met his right away. "I can't help but notice you staring at me," |
"Now, son," Shinkuto began again, bringing himself momentarily to the present another time, for the sole sake of alerting his son, "I'm only telling you this because life–" A hiccup. "–can do terrible things..."
He remembered so much more; it'd almost seemed like the more he drank, the more the memories came back to slap him in the face or stab him in the chest, but the problem was that he couldn't bring himself to stop. Shinkuto supposed it was fortunate for him that he had strayed too far from where his drink sat to manage another swig. But all in spite of this, he could still recall so much of every moment he'd spent with the girl – the apparently "most beautiful woman" that he'd ever seen – and it hurt him that much more.
"Now, most of the time, we'd have too much to drink," he explained (he noted silently to himself, in the midst of his reminiscing, that his current condition did resemble that which he recalled being in whenever he had 'too much to drink' alongside her), "and we'd laugh at the stars and we'd share everything – too young to notice, and too dumb to care, our love was a story that couldn't compare.
"I said–"
"Girl, can I tell you a wonderful thing?"
Some few years after his previous 'story' of them took place, Shinkuto was turning towards Reiko, his date and his girlfriend, with one hand fumbling around in his pocket while the other gave hers a squeeze. "I made you a present with paper and string," he'd told her, finally pulling out what he'd been reaching for from his pocket; with that, he drew his hand away from Reiko's to take hold of the object with both his own. It was a box. A fragile, little box. And by the time he'd descended to his knee in front of her, everyone around them that was in the same general vicinity was watching, falling silent and signaling for a particular stillness that drew all of everybody's attention to Reiko's stunned reaction.
"Open with care, now, I'm asking you, please," he continued on, even while listening to the countless gasps which left the mouths of those around him; even while hearing that specific one of Reiko, whose hands had already clapped themselves over her gaping mouth. Tears were forming in her eyes, and all Shinkuto could do was give a modest smile, and proceed, "You know that I love you. Will you marry me?"
"Now, son, I'm only telling you this because life can do terrible things," Shinkuto repeated, when in the meantime, he was struggling to stop the memory of his wife's delighted response from replaying over and over inside his head. "You'll learn one day,"[/b] he told Satoshi, "I hope and I pray that God shows you differently..."
There was silence, and for the first time during this whole 'discussion', Shinkuto didn't see Satoshi fighting back a reply or curious remark of some sort. This time, he willingly stayed quiet, practically on the edge of his seat as those last few words were left to hang in the air for a long moment. Shinkuto, too, was holding his breath, but mainly because it felt as though he was suddenly so winded, as he braced himself for what was to be explained next.
Tears were forming in his eyes now, just as they had in Reiko's when she was being proposed to by him; also just like they had been in both of theirs, when she was forced to make an announcement of her own:
"She... She said–"
"Boy, can I tell you a terrible thing..?"
A much younger Satoshi, hardly four months old, was asleep in the comfort of his nursery, somewhere down the hall, which left both mother and father to stand peacefully in the front room. Reiko was speaking quietly, so as to respect her son's distant slumber, but also because the certain devastation in her voice kept her from reaching a level of volume that was any higher. Shinkuto had stepped closer to her – some kind of protective instinct that he had – upon noticing the look on her face and the unmistakable sorrow in her tone of voice. He grew even more anxious when he saw that she was avoiding his gaze, and was right about to question it, only for her to speak first:
"...It seems that I'm sick and I've only got weeks," she told him, at which point he stopped, dead in his tracks. At first, there was no change in expression on his part, but as she went on, his breath caught itself in his throat and a look of disbelief (terror, almost) flashed across his face.
"Please, don't be sad, now. I really believe... that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me."
And she was his greatest thing.
...But now she was gone.
Before Shinkuto knew it, he was choking out sobs, right in front of his kid, having fallen out of his chair and to his knees on the floor. Like he'd been begging, begging for some other kind of fate, to whatever supposedly spiteful god was up there. He hadn't deserved this. She hadn't deserved this. More than that, their kid had deserved something better than a father who most often sat alone in a room with his own grief and desolation.
And now was a moment where he should have apologized for not being there, but what was done by Shinkuto instead was that he moved forward to grab hold of both Satoshi's shoulders, shaking them furiously while looking him dead in the eye, and demanding something from him that no parent ever should; "So don't fall in love, there's just too much to lose," he bellowed, "If you're given the choice, then I beg you to choose to walk away, walk away! Don't let her get you! I can't bear to see the same happen to you–"
But then, before anything more was said, Satoshi freed himself from his father's hold, and was darting out of the room with something like fear written all across his face. Along with that, despair at finally having learned something more about what happened to his own mother – the one that he couldn't even remember for himself. He likely only wished it could have been something more uplifting and happy, rather than something of a tragedy being told by his now-drunken father.
"Now, son," Shinkuto repeated, louder now (to the point of shouting) as he stared after his retreating child, "I'm only telling you this because life... can do terrible things!"
He'd learned this many times before, but never had he experienced the lesson in such a way as this. That was even after losing Miyuki. Why Reiko, too? Why couldn't he keep hold of something for once? For once?
Terrible, terrible things life did, indeed... [/style][/td][/tr][/table]
— made by kiwii!
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