they're just photos, after all
To be quite honest, Kyo doesn't know why he didn't just throw it out as soon as it arrived.
Instead, the unopened post gets a full five minutes of scrutiny. He regards it like a collection notice or an eviction letter; something unexpected but deserving of the most abject dread, even though you didn't know it existed until a few moments ago. He half-opens it expecting - hoping - that it was a mistake much in the same way, though everybody knows only the people who have the power to ruin you are able to get the addresses consistently right. He eventually shoves it under a pile of old magazines, unread, on his bookshelf and goes to take a shower.
He wishes he could say that he'd forgotten about it over the next few hours, though really the letter made him kind of stupid. The possible things written in it, the reason it was sent, the timing or lack thereof: it all lumped together in his brain, forcing out basic logic and stunting his short-term memory.
The only way to reverse this, of course, was to actually read it, instead of sitting there staring at the wall and drumming his fingers, pointedly thinking of something else. He goes and retrieves it, sits against a weight machine and rips it open a little aggressively. He actually tears a corner of the actual letter off in doing so. Two smooth, glossy photos tumble out, and he reads the letter while reaching to paw for them on the floor.
Kyo,
I found these the other day, and thought it polite to return them.
Take care,
Yuki
One was of Kyo and Yuki, of course, hugging and obviously posed so Kyo could take the photo himself while still in the actual picture. The other was of she and Kyo's family; she'd taken it with her on an exchange program before, as a keepsake.
He's not sure which upsets him more; that she actually didn't write more, or that she couldn't just dispose of these herself. No doubt, in some space-age girl logic, this was supposed to be sort of a burn, an attempt to remind him of what they had that disintegrated thanks to him and his big mouth.
But, when his mouth can't find any words to mumble except "bitch kept my frames", Kyo realizes that he's probably upset at the fact that he might not be upset anymore. At least, in the way he knows how to be.
It doesn't make any sense, of course, but that thought is frozen, and immediately replaced by that certain gleeful vindictiveness one feels when you're able to burn photos without a lighter.
Instead, the unopened post gets a full five minutes of scrutiny. He regards it like a collection notice or an eviction letter; something unexpected but deserving of the most abject dread, even though you didn't know it existed until a few moments ago. He half-opens it expecting - hoping - that it was a mistake much in the same way, though everybody knows only the people who have the power to ruin you are able to get the addresses consistently right. He eventually shoves it under a pile of old magazines, unread, on his bookshelf and goes to take a shower.
He wishes he could say that he'd forgotten about it over the next few hours, though really the letter made him kind of stupid. The possible things written in it, the reason it was sent, the timing or lack thereof: it all lumped together in his brain, forcing out basic logic and stunting his short-term memory.
The only way to reverse this, of course, was to actually read it, instead of sitting there staring at the wall and drumming his fingers, pointedly thinking of something else. He goes and retrieves it, sits against a weight machine and rips it open a little aggressively. He actually tears a corner of the actual letter off in doing so. Two smooth, glossy photos tumble out, and he reads the letter while reaching to paw for them on the floor.
Kyo,
I found these the other day, and thought it polite to return them.
Take care,
Yuki
One was of Kyo and Yuki, of course, hugging and obviously posed so Kyo could take the photo himself while still in the actual picture. The other was of she and Kyo's family; she'd taken it with her on an exchange program before, as a keepsake.
He's not sure which upsets him more; that she actually didn't write more, or that she couldn't just dispose of these herself. No doubt, in some space-age girl logic, this was supposed to be sort of a burn, an attempt to remind him of what they had that disintegrated thanks to him and his big mouth.
But, when his mouth can't find any words to mumble except "bitch kept my frames", Kyo realizes that he's probably upset at the fact that he might not be upset anymore. At least, in the way he knows how to be.
It doesn't make any sense, of course, but that thought is frozen, and immediately replaced by that certain gleeful vindictiveness one feels when you're able to burn photos without a lighter.