Polaroids - Reita/Ruki 1/1
Title: Polaroids
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: G
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Genre: Romance
Synopsis: Reita finds three old polaroids of him and his ex-husband.
1.
POLAROIDS
When he tries to dig out the last item inside his drawer, he touches something else. Something that comes in a stack.
The edges still cut like a blade. Akira turns these small glossy cards around, but the thin edges drag along the beds of his fingers and leave a cut, one that is not too deep to reach much deeper ends, but just deep enough to draw some blood. Which then, causes Akira to bust open some pre-packed, heavily taped boxes in search for a bandage.
Smells like old plastic and neglected memories.
Akira is not too fond of memories, they only remind him of things that can never happen in a lucid, clear-cut world and those could’ve happened could’ve been but never did-
And sometimes it’s like pulling off a prick from an old wound - it’s not strong enough to damage the tissues but can still peel open the scab, exposing the pink flesh underneath.
This here is neither. These are merely some old polaroids of him and his ex-husband, who, in real life, will never look as glossy and egg-shell hued as he does in these pictures.
In total, there are three polaroids in the stack, all taken from different periods of their relationship. The top cover delineates a Takanori in all black slacks, looking positively annoyed and hands pushed inside large pockets. Beyond him, small dots of light and fire dusts stippled the nocturnal sky. This was taken from a firework festival, and judging by the splash of red surging through Takanori’s fringes, this took place around ten years ago. They were only friends ten years ago.
The one behind, smooth as glass, shows a crooked Akira cradling a blurred black dot. Akira recognizes the black dot as Koron, the long hair chihuahua they adopted together, just after they had moved into this house. After they split up, Takanori brought Koron away with him.
The third one (Akira doesnt’t consider this the last because it’s never too late-) is plain landscape, without any shimmery characters. This one snaps Akira’s vision because it is all too familiar. It is his backyard, or their backyard. This is a different one, with unruly handwritings scribbled in various spots. Akira remembers that this was taken to help them plan the layout of the garden. Lilacs scream in thick fat letters because Takanori wanted them, but Akira suggested daisies - which can be found in the corner, in tiny scripts, if one scrutinizes.
Akira looks out to his backyard, there are neither lilacs nor daisies.
Takanori left before it could be decided. And afterwards, daisies were automatically crossed out as well.
Holding the rigid pictures in his hand, Akira wonders what to do next. Truth be told, it would be too much of a waste to just shove these down the trash. After all, these are the only reachable legacies he has with Takanori, his husband for two years, boyfriend for six, friend for eight. The rest are just small puddles left behind after the rain, the rest are merely scrapes of the past.
These are not scrapes, they are barely memories.
These are elapsed moments of their past perpetually framed inside films of polaroids. These are clipped eternities that were once promised but long forgotten, and in these, broken vows and cold wedding rings are kept in a place much closer to home.
And Akira finally understands why these edges are blunt like knives, why these glazed eternities are preserved behind thick frames, and why each one of these is able to brush against a different bump on his heart each time.
Akira knows what to do.
He discards the polaroids inside the trash bin.
In reality, legacy is just relic dipped in gold. One should only possess the relic of somebody else after they’re dead.
Neither of them is dead, therefore Akira doesn’t need any relic or legacy to remember them by.
When he could hold onto the breaths and pulses of present and now, he doesn’t need moments from the past to color the crooked little world that they both share.
So perhaps he should do it fast, because present and now don’t stay. They are not polaroids, they can’t be captured and strung over beds.
Right now, right at this moment, all Akira needs is to reach. Forget about holding on for now, that comes much later.
All he needs is to reach.
And he will have polaroids again, this time in natural colors.
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: G
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Genre: Romance
Synopsis: Reita finds three old polaroids of him and his ex-husband.
1.
POLAROIDS
When he tries to dig out the last item inside his drawer, he touches something else. Something that comes in a stack.
The edges still cut like a blade. Akira turns these small glossy cards around, but the thin edges drag along the beds of his fingers and leave a cut, one that is not too deep to reach much deeper ends, but just deep enough to draw some blood. Which then, causes Akira to bust open some pre-packed, heavily taped boxes in search for a bandage.
Smells like old plastic and neglected memories.
Akira is not too fond of memories, they only remind him of things that can never happen in a lucid, clear-cut world and those could’ve happened could’ve been but never did-
And sometimes it’s like pulling off a prick from an old wound - it’s not strong enough to damage the tissues but can still peel open the scab, exposing the pink flesh underneath.
This here is neither. These are merely some old polaroids of him and his ex-husband, who, in real life, will never look as glossy and egg-shell hued as he does in these pictures.
In total, there are three polaroids in the stack, all taken from different periods of their relationship. The top cover delineates a Takanori in all black slacks, looking positively annoyed and hands pushed inside large pockets. Beyond him, small dots of light and fire dusts stippled the nocturnal sky. This was taken from a firework festival, and judging by the splash of red surging through Takanori’s fringes, this took place around ten years ago. They were only friends ten years ago.
The one behind, smooth as glass, shows a crooked Akira cradling a blurred black dot. Akira recognizes the black dot as Koron, the long hair chihuahua they adopted together, just after they had moved into this house. After they split up, Takanori brought Koron away with him.
The third one (Akira doesnt’t consider this the last because it’s never too late-) is plain landscape, without any shimmery characters. This one snaps Akira’s vision because it is all too familiar. It is his backyard, or their backyard. This is a different one, with unruly handwritings scribbled in various spots. Akira remembers that this was taken to help them plan the layout of the garden. Lilacs scream in thick fat letters because Takanori wanted them, but Akira suggested daisies - which can be found in the corner, in tiny scripts, if one scrutinizes.
Akira looks out to his backyard, there are neither lilacs nor daisies.
Takanori left before it could be decided. And afterwards, daisies were automatically crossed out as well.
Holding the rigid pictures in his hand, Akira wonders what to do next. Truth be told, it would be too much of a waste to just shove these down the trash. After all, these are the only reachable legacies he has with Takanori, his husband for two years, boyfriend for six, friend for eight. The rest are just small puddles left behind after the rain, the rest are merely scrapes of the past.
These are not scrapes, they are barely memories.
These are elapsed moments of their past perpetually framed inside films of polaroids. These are clipped eternities that were once promised but long forgotten, and in these, broken vows and cold wedding rings are kept in a place much closer to home.
And Akira finally understands why these edges are blunt like knives, why these glazed eternities are preserved behind thick frames, and why each one of these is able to brush against a different bump on his heart each time.
Akira knows what to do.
He discards the polaroids inside the trash bin.
In reality, legacy is just relic dipped in gold. One should only possess the relic of somebody else after they’re dead.
Neither of them is dead, therefore Akira doesn’t need any relic or legacy to remember them by.
When he could hold onto the breaths and pulses of present and now, he doesn’t need moments from the past to color the crooked little world that they both share.
So perhaps he should do it fast, because present and now don’t stay. They are not polaroids, they can’t be captured and strung over beds.
Right now, right at this moment, all Akira needs is to reach. Forget about holding on for now, that comes much later.
All he needs is to reach.
And he will have polaroids again, this time in natural colors.