Equidistance [April 10th] [Himawari; Watanuki/Himawari] [xxxHOLiC]
Title :: Equidistance
Prompt :: April 10th, “expect to be valued accordingly” [31_days]
Characters/Pairings :: Himawari; Watanuki/Himawari implied
Rating :: PG
Warnings :: Allusions to spoilers from volume ten.
Wordcount :: 234
Summary :: It is a promise, even if she no longer dares to so much as touch his hand; and her wish for him, at least, still has never changed.
She hears the witch’s words, and does not even think to shirk or shy away - her back is straight even as she accepts his scars, as if she knows the highest price is yet to come and is trying, as best she can, to ready herself for that inevitable battle.
She has given enough to help sustain his life, the quiet in and out and in of breath, the vibrant crashing of his voice as it cascades wildly through the octaves; but there is still so much more that she feels she owes.
And she will do her best to pay.
Explanations will bear the weight of deception and secrecy, and the frenetic pounding of her heart should surely counter the way his so foolishly beat when she was near - a thing she is convinced that only she will feel, now, and she is willing.
She cannot offer anything else beyond these words, beyond the crosses she will once again pick up and bear.
(It is a promise, even if she no longer dares to so much as touch his hand; and her wish for him, at least, still has never changed.)
But she does not think to wonder - if such a balance truly exists, such equilibrium, then for what purpose did she spend all those years alone?
And perhaps, just perhaps, he would be just as willing to pay the price for her.
Prompt :: April 10th, “expect to be valued accordingly” [31_days]
Characters/Pairings :: Himawari; Watanuki/Himawari implied
Rating :: PG
Warnings :: Allusions to spoilers from volume ten.
Wordcount :: 234
Summary :: It is a promise, even if she no longer dares to so much as touch his hand; and her wish for him, at least, still has never changed.
She hears the witch’s words, and does not even think to shirk or shy away - her back is straight even as she accepts his scars, as if she knows the highest price is yet to come and is trying, as best she can, to ready herself for that inevitable battle.
She has given enough to help sustain his life, the quiet in and out and in of breath, the vibrant crashing of his voice as it cascades wildly through the octaves; but there is still so much more that she feels she owes.
And she will do her best to pay.
Explanations will bear the weight of deception and secrecy, and the frenetic pounding of her heart should surely counter the way his so foolishly beat when she was near - a thing she is convinced that only she will feel, now, and she is willing.
She cannot offer anything else beyond these words, beyond the crosses she will once again pick up and bear.
(It is a promise, even if she no longer dares to so much as touch his hand; and her wish for him, at least, still has never changed.)
But she does not think to wonder - if such a balance truly exists, such equilibrium, then for what purpose did she spend all those years alone?
And perhaps, just perhaps, he would be just as willing to pay the price for her.