Categories > Anime/Manga > Card Captor Sakura > Departing
Note: Set a few years after /Departing/.
Arriving
Sunlight paints the bedroom yellow. The items on the windowsill stir his curiosity-a picture frame, a few odd but unused candleholders, a stack of unopened letters-simply because their humanness stands out in the otherwise soulless bedroom. They cast thin and spidery shadows along the white walls. Haloed in the unforgiving sunlight, he traces his fingers delicately down the length of the picture frame, trying to memorize the bumps and ridges. He feels that there's a great importance in doing so, though he's not sure why.
He tries to remember the texture of skin (the curves, the dips, the jutting of bone, the softness, the firmness) of a body he has not touched for some years. The other boy in the picture blushes. He finds himself smiling at the photograph, though he's not sure whether it is in fondness or sadness at the vague memory. You shouldn't be embarrassed/, he wants to say. /I don't remember what you feel like.
"Master Eriol?"
He turns, though he doesn't lift his hand from the picture frame. "Yes, Spinel?"
Spinel Sun pads elegantly into the room, muscles rippling beneath the sleek black fur, to nudge his hand with his dark muzzle. Eriol smiles-a genuine one-and rubs his guardian's head fondly, but only for a moment. "Where is Ruby?" he asks, letting his hand drop away.
"She's napping," Spinel answers, staring at him curiously. His version of surprise, Eriol remembers, perhaps because Spinel knew the question never needed to be asked. "We feared that you would not return."
There is something in Spinel's voice that stops him from replying carelessly. Concern? Eriol pauses until Spinel looks up at him, intelligent eyes giving nothing away. There was only that curious look, nothing more or less, but he answers sincerely.
"I would never abandon two parts that complete my soul, Spinel."
If Spinel could smile, he would have done so. When Eriol turns away to look out the window, Spinel wishes he could take away the wistful look in his storm-grey eyes, erase perhaps a little part of it.
Two parts of your soul, Spinel thinks, feeling something akin to sorrow stir inside him. But what about that one part that neither Ruby Moon nor I can fill?
The photograph of two teenage boys smiling (one embarrassed, the other cheerful, one pale arm around stiff shoulders) seems a distant dream.
Eriol Hiiragizawa dreams awake.
Arriving
Sunlight paints the bedroom yellow. The items on the windowsill stir his curiosity-a picture frame, a few odd but unused candleholders, a stack of unopened letters-simply because their humanness stands out in the otherwise soulless bedroom. They cast thin and spidery shadows along the white walls. Haloed in the unforgiving sunlight, he traces his fingers delicately down the length of the picture frame, trying to memorize the bumps and ridges. He feels that there's a great importance in doing so, though he's not sure why.
He tries to remember the texture of skin (the curves, the dips, the jutting of bone, the softness, the firmness) of a body he has not touched for some years. The other boy in the picture blushes. He finds himself smiling at the photograph, though he's not sure whether it is in fondness or sadness at the vague memory. You shouldn't be embarrassed/, he wants to say. /I don't remember what you feel like.
"Master Eriol?"
He turns, though he doesn't lift his hand from the picture frame. "Yes, Spinel?"
Spinel Sun pads elegantly into the room, muscles rippling beneath the sleek black fur, to nudge his hand with his dark muzzle. Eriol smiles-a genuine one-and rubs his guardian's head fondly, but only for a moment. "Where is Ruby?" he asks, letting his hand drop away.
"She's napping," Spinel answers, staring at him curiously. His version of surprise, Eriol remembers, perhaps because Spinel knew the question never needed to be asked. "We feared that you would not return."
There is something in Spinel's voice that stops him from replying carelessly. Concern? Eriol pauses until Spinel looks up at him, intelligent eyes giving nothing away. There was only that curious look, nothing more or less, but he answers sincerely.
"I would never abandon two parts that complete my soul, Spinel."
If Spinel could smile, he would have done so. When Eriol turns away to look out the window, Spinel wishes he could take away the wistful look in his storm-grey eyes, erase perhaps a little part of it.
Two parts of your soul, Spinel thinks, feeling something akin to sorrow stir inside him. But what about that one part that neither Ruby Moon nor I can fill?
The photograph of two teenage boys smiling (one embarrassed, the other cheerful, one pale arm around stiff shoulders) seems a distant dream.
Eriol Hiiragizawa dreams awake.
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