Applicable Genres General, angst, spiritual
Warnings General oddity. Minor OC…kinda.
Summary Every day he sees her sitting there, and wonders how anyone's life could be so simple.
Inspiration Vaguely based on a true story.
Sitting on a swing set
Watching days go by
Conversations about nothing
It's time to go home
- 12 Stones, "Unsaid"
Kyouya comes back from the office between nine and nine-thirty every day. The path takes him by a little playground off a side-street, one with only a couple of swings and a jungle gym to call its own. One day he absently turns his head and notices someone sitting on one of the swings – someone far too adult to be using a child's plaything.
The next day, he makes an effort to catch sight of the location as it passes the window, and sees that someone again – still sitting on the swing, in the midst of doing nothing.
Every day he sees her sitting there, and wonders how anyone's life could be so simple, and who has time to do nothing.
She's dressed for an executive position, though minor, and so Kyouya wonders how she can get away from work for that long. He's relieved at the sight of the empty swing-set the day he doesn't finish until nearly 11.
Some days she has a book, some days what appears to be a hamburger or case of chicken nuggets, but most days she has nothing but herself with which to stare up at the night sky.
Kyouya always has a computer on which to organize spreadsheets, a cell phone with which to arrange business meetings, and a cup of coffee with which to keep himself awake just a little longer. His fingers lie on the keys, his ear next to the speaker, and his lips across the rim, but his eyes wander to the oddly occupied swing.
Consequently, his attention is all the more attracted the day the swing turns up empty at 9:15. The prospect of waiting vanishes from his thoughts as quickly as it appears.
The next day, he makes an effort to catch sight of the location as it passes the window, and doesn't see her again. Every day for the next week he misses her, so much that he begins to consider it suspicious.
It's a warm, Friday night when he tells the driver to pull over without asking questions. The only light over the playground comes from a pair of dim streetlamps, thereby augmenting the empty aura surrounding the space. The vacant swing looms in front of him, as if daring him to sit upon it. Kyouya's never backed down from a challenge, so he lays his briefcase on the edge of the slide where it won't become too damaged and steps over.
The metal chains creak with the added weight; the sound echoes with unusual force against the empty air. Feeling the curious gaze of his driver, Kyouya turns his own up towards the sky, cloudless and vast in comparison. A warm breeze skips past, playing with his bangs on the way. For a second this is all of which he is aware – the sky, the air, the space; all full of nothing.
Then he turns his gaze back down to ground level, and sees the car on the road, the driver trying not to stare, the briefcase on the slide, and his own hands clasped around the metal chains of the swing.
The second is lost, and all that's left is everything.
Kyouya stands up and heads back the way he came. He has never had time for nothing.