Day/Theme: April 7 / Where were you when they broke the news?
Character/Pairing: Ritsuka, mentions of Seimei, Soubi, slight Ritsuka/Soubi, if-you-squint Ristuka/Seimei.
A/N: Not fully sure what I'm doing with this fic...
Summary: He can easily remember what happened the day his world fell apart.
He can easily remember what he did that day. He can remember every part, like a line of photographs strung together. There he is, brushing his teeth; there he is, changing his clothes; there he is, taking his notes. It all lies there, replaying in his dreams (nightmares), every step and breath taken that day.
Sometimes he goes through it all, trying to see if there were any signs. Something that could have yelled, It's going to happen or Please stop it.
And when he thinks of it, there is nothing. Seimei was the same brother he always was.
(And, when he thinks of it, just what did he know of that brother?)
That death, fake as it is, still sticks to his mind like a looped recording.
The exact opposite occurred when he met Soubi. That day is a haze to Ritsuka, a haze of emotions that he had almost forgotten. There is something like joy there, a bright orange colour, and the memory of an afternoon of bliss.
He has to look at the photos to remember that they went to the park, the leaves falling around them. Photos, hundreds of them, fill up a wall covering that day. There they are on the swings, there they are on a bench, they are everywhere and anywhere and Ritsuka thinks that may have been one of the happiest days of his life.
If only he could remember it better.
But Soubi keeps meeting with him, keeps giving him new memories to replace those forgotten.
(But Soubi keeps turning his world upside down, and not always in a good way.)
Ritsuka doesn't really need to remember that day because he has hundreds of other memories to choose from.
(When Seimei appears once more, everything is in stunning clarity. Every thought, every heartbeat stands out like a silhouette. Ritsuka can count each shard of broken glass, remember each word spoken, and there is nothing hesitant about that memory.
This is when he learns the truth about memories. The beginnings are often forgotten, but it's the endings that last forever.)