Log: Tears
Who Atobe, an unnamed maid
What Atobe arrives at his grandma's house
When Upon Atobe's arrival to England
Where Atobe's room in his grandma's house
Rating G
Notes Contains minor religious themes/implications. Everything spoken in English.
Comments Please?
"Ah, young Mr Atobe," the maid said, blinking as she saw him striding towards her. Likely because of the hair. He'd already had quite a few stares and comments about it; after all, only a couple of months earlier it had been significantly shorter. "I - I just finished your room."
Atobe merely nodded at her, brushing past her to go to the room, closing the door behind himself. Glancing about the room, he sighed. It seemed to be exactly the way he'd left it; of course, it had been cleaned, and the bed was obviously freshly made, but other than that he saw no change from what it'd been like as he'd headed off to Japan the last time.
Only that time, his grandma had told him goodbye.
Crossing the room, he threw himself on the enormous bed, a deep sigh escaping his chest. This was the first time since he'd been picked up at the camp that he got a moment of time alone. All the way to England he'd constantly been accompanied by varying numbers of bodyguards; while no celebrity outside his associated circles, he was still a teenager of some recognition with more money to his name than most people could ever dream of. Thus, a prime target for potential kidnappers. Bodyguards were good for his safety, perhaps, but they also meant that an expression of his true feelings would have been nigh impossible.
Yet now that he did have the possibility, he… didn't know how to feel, exactly. He just felt… numb. Empty. Blank.
It was quiet in the room; in fact, it felt like the entire house had fallen silent. Even the servants greeting him had been talking with lowered voices, as though afraid they'd offend some lingering spirit by daring to speak with loud voices so soon after her passing. It had never been noisy, not in this house, his grandma hadn't approved of needless noise and shouting, but now it felt almost like he'd gone deaf all of a sudden.
He hadn't seen any of his relatives yet, for which he was grateful. He wasn't sure he'd be able to put up his usual mask of indifference just yet. However empty of emotions he felt at the moment, he just knew that any careless word might trigger something hiding behind the indescribable blankness, and any of his relatives were the very last people he would want to break down in front of. God knew what kind of gossip that'd cause. Poor Keigo, the pressure's getting to him, too many responsibilities that's obvious, do you really think he'll be up to his inheritance, I always knew he couldn't be trusted to bear the stress, poor William -
No, not William. Not anymore. Nobody had ever called him William but his grandma, and she wasn't going to call him by that name anymore, not ever again. She'd said it was because she loathed his Japanese name, loathed the way he was seen as nothing but the Atobe heir, and calling him Keigo would have just been agreeing with that image. Even his mother always called him Keigo, but to his grandma, he'd always been William, as long as he could remember. He always suspected it was because it had been the name of her late husband but he didn't really care; as a child it had made him feel special, as though there was a secret only the two of them knew. As he grew older he'd come to actually appreciate her explanation, appreciate that there was someone who didn't just see him as the heir to the name, an extension of his father and his family. All too often people seemed to forget there was more to him, that there was actually a person behind the name.
Now his grandma was gone. Would anyone truly realize it anymore?
Kite's image flashed in his mind's eye. Perhaps… but not truly, not yet at least. There was so much about him that Kite couldn't possibly know, couldn't understand the way his grandma had. Kite hadn't seen him grow, didn't know always the right words to say, couldn't give him that occasional glimpse of what his parents should have been like if they hadn't been such uncaring bastards. He was sure Kite cared, but he cared in a different way. He wasn't - he wasn't grandma.
Face pressed against the bed sheets, Atobe could have suddenly sworn that something brushed against his hair, as though a hand caressing his head. Turning around, he saw nothing. Of course. God, was it jet lag or what? He was obviously hallucinating, now.
Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the ceiling, thinking. He'd left for Japan thinking his grandma was all right… that she would be all right. As it turned out, she'd lied. She hadn't been getting better at all… she'd just hidden it from him. To make him worry less, presumably. As though he'd rather be on the other side of the world while she… died.
And then the emptiness was suddenly away, filled with a multitude of emotions, sorrow longing anger frustration, hadn't there been anything to be done, why had he been so far away, why couldn't he at least have been by her side as she died, the only relative he had he'd actually cared for and vice versa.
But then, she wasn't really away, was she? This was her house, her home, she was surely watching from somewhere far far above, she was surely watching and clicking her tongue at her grandson's obvious weakness. He could almost hear her voice now, trying to sound disapproving and failing, really now William never cry for the dead because they definitely don't cry for themselves and besides it'll ruin your complexion.
"Good-bye," he whispered tearily, blinking away the tears that stubbornly tried to obscure his vision despite his best attempts to hold them inside. "God-be-with-ye."
But of course He would. It was all he could believe.
What Atobe arrives at his grandma's house
When Upon Atobe's arrival to England
Where Atobe's room in his grandma's house
Rating G
Notes Contains minor religious themes/implications. Everything spoken in English.
Comments Please?
"Ah, young Mr Atobe," the maid said, blinking as she saw him striding towards her. Likely because of the hair. He'd already had quite a few stares and comments about it; after all, only a couple of months earlier it had been significantly shorter. "I - I just finished your room."
Atobe merely nodded at her, brushing past her to go to the room, closing the door behind himself. Glancing about the room, he sighed. It seemed to be exactly the way he'd left it; of course, it had been cleaned, and the bed was obviously freshly made, but other than that he saw no change from what it'd been like as he'd headed off to Japan the last time.
Only that time, his grandma had told him goodbye.
Crossing the room, he threw himself on the enormous bed, a deep sigh escaping his chest. This was the first time since he'd been picked up at the camp that he got a moment of time alone. All the way to England he'd constantly been accompanied by varying numbers of bodyguards; while no celebrity outside his associated circles, he was still a teenager of some recognition with more money to his name than most people could ever dream of. Thus, a prime target for potential kidnappers. Bodyguards were good for his safety, perhaps, but they also meant that an expression of his true feelings would have been nigh impossible.
Yet now that he did have the possibility, he… didn't know how to feel, exactly. He just felt… numb. Empty. Blank.
It was quiet in the room; in fact, it felt like the entire house had fallen silent. Even the servants greeting him had been talking with lowered voices, as though afraid they'd offend some lingering spirit by daring to speak with loud voices so soon after her passing. It had never been noisy, not in this house, his grandma hadn't approved of needless noise and shouting, but now it felt almost like he'd gone deaf all of a sudden.
He hadn't seen any of his relatives yet, for which he was grateful. He wasn't sure he'd be able to put up his usual mask of indifference just yet. However empty of emotions he felt at the moment, he just knew that any careless word might trigger something hiding behind the indescribable blankness, and any of his relatives were the very last people he would want to break down in front of. God knew what kind of gossip that'd cause. Poor Keigo, the pressure's getting to him, too many responsibilities that's obvious, do you really think he'll be up to his inheritance, I always knew he couldn't be trusted to bear the stress, poor William -
No, not William. Not anymore. Nobody had ever called him William but his grandma, and she wasn't going to call him by that name anymore, not ever again. She'd said it was because she loathed his Japanese name, loathed the way he was seen as nothing but the Atobe heir, and calling him Keigo would have just been agreeing with that image. Even his mother always called him Keigo, but to his grandma, he'd always been William, as long as he could remember. He always suspected it was because it had been the name of her late husband but he didn't really care; as a child it had made him feel special, as though there was a secret only the two of them knew. As he grew older he'd come to actually appreciate her explanation, appreciate that there was someone who didn't just see him as the heir to the name, an extension of his father and his family. All too often people seemed to forget there was more to him, that there was actually a person behind the name.
Now his grandma was gone. Would anyone truly realize it anymore?
Kite's image flashed in his mind's eye. Perhaps… but not truly, not yet at least. There was so much about him that Kite couldn't possibly know, couldn't understand the way his grandma had. Kite hadn't seen him grow, didn't know always the right words to say, couldn't give him that occasional glimpse of what his parents should have been like if they hadn't been such uncaring bastards. He was sure Kite cared, but he cared in a different way. He wasn't - he wasn't grandma.
Face pressed against the bed sheets, Atobe could have suddenly sworn that something brushed against his hair, as though a hand caressing his head. Turning around, he saw nothing. Of course. God, was it jet lag or what? He was obviously hallucinating, now.
Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the ceiling, thinking. He'd left for Japan thinking his grandma was all right… that she would be all right. As it turned out, she'd lied. She hadn't been getting better at all… she'd just hidden it from him. To make him worry less, presumably. As though he'd rather be on the other side of the world while she… died.
And then the emptiness was suddenly away, filled with a multitude of emotions, sorrow longing anger frustration, hadn't there been anything to be done, why had he been so far away, why couldn't he at least have been by her side as she died, the only relative he had he'd actually cared for and vice versa.
But then, she wasn't really away, was she? This was her house, her home, she was surely watching from somewhere far far above, she was surely watching and clicking her tongue at her grandson's obvious weakness. He could almost hear her voice now, trying to sound disapproving and failing, really now William never cry for the dead because they definitely don't cry for themselves and besides it'll ruin your complexion.
"Good-bye," he whispered tearily, blinking away the tears that stubbornly tried to obscure his vision despite his best attempts to hold them inside. "God-be-with-ye."
But of course He would. It was all he could believe.