S&S drabble!
Sep. 29th, 2005 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
inkpawprintsS&S drabble, inspired by this piece of fanart by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shisakura. Apparently it's the first out of 50 for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
50_lovequotes :P fifty pieces of S&S fanart YAY!
S&S (duh), no warnings other than for WAFF and that I DID NOT EDIT IT because I wrote it in, oh, about twenty minutes? At least, it was twenty minutes if you discount the fact that I went clothes shopping with my brother in the middle of it *feels like Hokuto*
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Given the curious nature of Subaru's work of dealing with the dead, hardships and trauma of the emotional sort are only to be expected. In this light Subaru's job is much like that of policemen and doctors, only far more specialised, and like those professions no one expects Subaru to be immune to pain, only sensible with handling it. To Subaru's credit he's much better at it now than he was at sixteen, but Subaru being Subaru he is affected more than he should be by his work, and it is a testament to his strength that he can pick himself up to continue.
Still, to pick oneself up, one must first have fallen down. The case Subaru has come home from today not only felled him, but ground him into the floor. It involved the spirit of a woman, as so many of his cases do, who refused to leave the house she was haunting until her husband returned. Unfortunately for the woman her husband was long gone -- not dead, just gone. The woman had died of leukamia, so Subaru discovered, wasting away in the house little by little like a clay statue constantly pared down by some manic artist until she resembled little more than a skeleton with eyes. Her husband, whom she had thought so devoted, had been unable to stand the sight of her and retreated further and further away, eventually onto a plane and over the sea whilst she slipped into a coma to die alone. Unfortunately this explanation, when Subaru told it, was not believed by the ghost, who expressed her disbelief and fury with astonishing violence. All attempts to reason had fallen on deaf ears, and in the end Subaru had to purge her spirit by force. She had gone to the other world weeping.
Subaru feels like weeping himself. He stumbles tiredly into his apartment, which is silent and dark blue with evening shadows. No one is there to greet him because the other occupant is out, where and why exactly Subaru does not know. The absence makes the apartment colder. He goes to the bedroom where, after putting coat and bag away, he sinks heavily onto the bed exhausted and drained. He remembers the woman's ghost, her face twisted into something demonic by her rage and heedless of the tears streaming down her face as she tried to rip his heart out. He remembers her pictures, a smiling bride on her husband's arm, a frightened hospital patient, a living corpse of skin and bone. He imagines her alone in the house, unable to move from her bed, wondering where the man she loved has gone and waiting with growing desperation as her body weakened more and more, yet so certain of his return that she lingered after death and fought the exorcist who came for her. She had been in so much pain, and as much as Subaru tries to tell himself that she left him no choice he cannot help but regret, bowing his head under the guilt. To die alone like that ... shuddering, he curls up on the bed like a child and squeezes his eyes shut praying for oblivion ...
... he wakes slowly, reluctantly, vaguely aware that something has changed. Sleepy as he is it takes a while for him to recognise what, but eventually he manages to think in words again and realises there's light on his eyelids and that he feels comfortably warm as if something is draped over him. Soon his other senses begin to function properly and identify other tiny signals, how the mattress beneath him has shifted, the weight pressing into the pillow at his back, the sound of a page quietly turning somewhere close by. His mind murmurs the obvious, he's back, and being Subaru's mind, begins to think about getting up, how he should say something welcoming, the fact that it was his turn to cook dinner tonight and he obviously has not--
Fingers descend and caress his face. They're strong fingers, Subaru intimately knows how strong, and gentle. They draw sleep back over him like a velvet blanket, dulling his thoughts and senses -- is that cooking he smells drifting from the kitchen? -- and despite himself, Subaru feels himself smile.
Another page turns. Subaru falls asleep once more.
shisakura. Apparently it's the first out of 50 for 50_lovequotes :P fifty pieces of S&S fanart YAY!S&S (duh), no warnings other than for WAFF and that I DID NOT EDIT IT because I wrote it in, oh, about twenty minutes? At least, it was twenty minutes if you discount the fact that I went clothes shopping with my brother in the middle of it *feels like Hokuto*
---------------
Given the curious nature of Subaru's work of dealing with the dead, hardships and trauma of the emotional sort are only to be expected. In this light Subaru's job is much like that of policemen and doctors, only far more specialised, and like those professions no one expects Subaru to be immune to pain, only sensible with handling it. To Subaru's credit he's much better at it now than he was at sixteen, but Subaru being Subaru he is affected more than he should be by his work, and it is a testament to his strength that he can pick himself up to continue.
Still, to pick oneself up, one must first have fallen down. The case Subaru has come home from today not only felled him, but ground him into the floor. It involved the spirit of a woman, as so many of his cases do, who refused to leave the house she was haunting until her husband returned. Unfortunately for the woman her husband was long gone -- not dead, just gone. The woman had died of leukamia, so Subaru discovered, wasting away in the house little by little like a clay statue constantly pared down by some manic artist until she resembled little more than a skeleton with eyes. Her husband, whom she had thought so devoted, had been unable to stand the sight of her and retreated further and further away, eventually onto a plane and over the sea whilst she slipped into a coma to die alone. Unfortunately this explanation, when Subaru told it, was not believed by the ghost, who expressed her disbelief and fury with astonishing violence. All attempts to reason had fallen on deaf ears, and in the end Subaru had to purge her spirit by force. She had gone to the other world weeping.
Subaru feels like weeping himself. He stumbles tiredly into his apartment, which is silent and dark blue with evening shadows. No one is there to greet him because the other occupant is out, where and why exactly Subaru does not know. The absence makes the apartment colder. He goes to the bedroom where, after putting coat and bag away, he sinks heavily onto the bed exhausted and drained. He remembers the woman's ghost, her face twisted into something demonic by her rage and heedless of the tears streaming down her face as she tried to rip his heart out. He remembers her pictures, a smiling bride on her husband's arm, a frightened hospital patient, a living corpse of skin and bone. He imagines her alone in the house, unable to move from her bed, wondering where the man she loved has gone and waiting with growing desperation as her body weakened more and more, yet so certain of his return that she lingered after death and fought the exorcist who came for her. She had been in so much pain, and as much as Subaru tries to tell himself that she left him no choice he cannot help but regret, bowing his head under the guilt. To die alone like that ... shuddering, he curls up on the bed like a child and squeezes his eyes shut praying for oblivion ...
... he wakes slowly, reluctantly, vaguely aware that something has changed. Sleepy as he is it takes a while for him to recognise what, but eventually he manages to think in words again and realises there's light on his eyelids and that he feels comfortably warm as if something is draped over him. Soon his other senses begin to function properly and identify other tiny signals, how the mattress beneath him has shifted, the weight pressing into the pillow at his back, the sound of a page quietly turning somewhere close by. His mind murmurs the obvious, he's back, and being Subaru's mind, begins to think about getting up, how he should say something welcoming, the fact that it was his turn to cook dinner tonight and he obviously has not--
Fingers descend and caress his face. They're strong fingers, Subaru intimately knows how strong, and gentle. They draw sleep back over him like a velvet blanket, dulling his thoughts and senses -- is that cooking he smells drifting from the kitchen? -- and despite himself, Subaru feels himself smile.
Another page turns. Subaru falls asleep once more.
