FFVII- Untouched
Title: Untouched
Fandom: FFVII
Characters: Tifa, mentions of Cloud, Marlene and Denzel
Prompt: #11- Chocolate Milk (30_beverages)
Word Count: 234
Rating: PG
She remembers the good mornings the best, when the four of them sat silently at the kitchen table while they ate their breakfast, little brown mustaches on the upper lips of the children from their chocolate milk. She remembers his calm resolve and the way he would chew thoughtfully, as if that alone took up so much energy he couldn’t stand to do anything else.
She remembers, quite clearly, how slowly those mornings started to change. There would be first days, then weeks when he wouldn’t be there at the kitchen tables in the morning. When he would be off on his own, finding things, finding himself, trying to run as fast as he could from his past and in turn running from a possible future.
When Marlene would ask with such childish innocence where he had gone, the young girl’s caretaker would smile and tell her he was out on an errand, but would be back soon. The bitter taste of a half lie stung her teeth and made her want to take those words back, but she never did. Never could.
She thinks of how it got to the point where there were no more morning breakfasts together, how she could empty the table of the dirty glasses, pouring the brown liquid of chocolate milk down the drain, marveling at how now the cups that were once emptied could go completely untouched.
Fandom: FFVII
Characters: Tifa, mentions of Cloud, Marlene and Denzel
Prompt: #11- Chocolate Milk (30_beverages)
Word Count: 234
Rating: PG
She remembers the good mornings the best, when the four of them sat silently at the kitchen table while they ate their breakfast, little brown mustaches on the upper lips of the children from their chocolate milk. She remembers his calm resolve and the way he would chew thoughtfully, as if that alone took up so much energy he couldn’t stand to do anything else.
She remembers, quite clearly, how slowly those mornings started to change. There would be first days, then weeks when he wouldn’t be there at the kitchen tables in the morning. When he would be off on his own, finding things, finding himself, trying to run as fast as he could from his past and in turn running from a possible future.
When Marlene would ask with such childish innocence where he had gone, the young girl’s caretaker would smile and tell her he was out on an errand, but would be back soon. The bitter taste of a half lie stung her teeth and made her want to take those words back, but she never did. Never could.
She thinks of how it got to the point where there were no more morning breakfasts together, how she could empty the table of the dirty glasses, pouring the brown liquid of chocolate milk down the drain, marveling at how now the cups that were once emptied could go completely untouched.