Misty: This idea was an old one when season 1 was still aired. Beta read by my friend, Mel.
title: Our Story
summary: the thought of being in your own story created from childhood is almost unexpected.
The lights were turned on with a flick of the switch, bringing light to the nursery room. The walls were painted pink with décor of rainbows, clouds, and flowers. Stuffed animals, from sizes small to large, were scattered around in the room. A man entered carrying a baby girl towards the middle of the room where a crib was placed.
"It's time for your bedtime, Princess," he said to his daughter. Her sapphire orbs gazed up at him with a neutral expression; her tiny hands gripped firm on his shirt. Her head gently rested against his chest.
Her father gingerly placed her on her back on the soft pink cushions in her crib. He observed her for a moment, with a thoughtful smile, before giving a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Night, Emi." Emi gave a small yawn after being tucked in and snuggled against her stuffed white cat.
The father turned off the lights with a switch before closing the door after. A tug on his pant leg made him glance down to meet his timid son. He gave a tender smile before scooping him up in his arms. "Time for bed, little tiger! Wanna hear a story?"
The little boy gave a quick nod with a beaming grin. The father walked towards the boy's bed and put him down. Secondly, he covered his lower half with the sheets. He plucked the object from its holding and joined his son at the edge of the bed.
The boy stared eagerly at the book anxious to what kind of story his father was about to tell him. Will it be about a heroic knight in a magical kingdom? Or-? His turquoise eyes sparkled at the thought, his face beaming. His wonderment quickly turned into a dismal frown as his father opened the book to find a blank page.
"Daddy, why is there a blank page?" he asked, a bit disappointed there no were pictures or words. The older man glanced at him along with a glint in his eyes before replying calmly.
"I thought we'd create our own story, Aichi."
The man nodded and took out a pen. "Let's see, how shall we begin?" he thought aloud. Aichi thought for a moment staring at the blank page; his lips pursed. The man looked at his son with a thoughtful expression. "I know." He set the pen on paper and began to write as he spoke,"Once upon a time in a modern town, there lived a young boy…"
The tip of the pen stopped at a certain point on a page with the father glancing at his sleeping child. A smile laced his lips at the sight of innocence, closing the book and placing it on the tabletop along with the pen. He tucked his son in before giving a light kiss on the forehead.
"Good night, Aichi."
The next couple of mornings soon followed after as Aichi made his way down the stairs with an appeased smile on his face. The night before, he was promised by his father that they were going to have some time together at the playground. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned towards the dining room expecting a nice warm breakfast meal welcoming him. As he was about to chirp in calling his parents, he stopped silent noticing said parents discussing with each other. His mother's back was facing the boy, and his father paused in his sentence noticing his presence. Aichi wasn't able to decipher what details his parents were talking about, nor would he understand any of it anyway.
His father walked towards his son and knelt to his level. He looked straight into his son's blue orbs- such innocence, curiosity yet confused look in his eyes. Unsettling guilt slapped his heart then. He took a breath through his nostrils, then released through slightly parted lips. How was he going to explain briefly, and simply, of the change in plans that Aichi had been looking so forward towards?
"Aichi, Daddy has to go away for a while. I'm sorry we can't go to the playground today," he said apologetically.
Aichi's eyes welled up, his mouth forming into one about to cry and/or whimper. A sincere look was all his father had to offer him. It wasn't enough. In a heartbeat, Aichi stormed up the stairs and closed the door to his room behind him.
Days… weeks… months…. And coupled years had passed and there was no sign of his father coming home. There wasn't even a letter to Aichi, or anything. Hearing such news from his mother made Aichi bolt up to his room as he did a few years prior.
He wanted to hate his father for the disappointed feeling, but couldn't. Does a child at this young age even know that meaning of "hate"? He loved "daddy", but with his dad not at home as much anymore and seeing other kids spending quality time with their father made him a bit envious. And not hearing anything from his father, did his dad not love him?
He released an irritated sigh and flopped onto his bed stomach-first with his arms cradling his head. As the softness of the pillows induced comfort, his eyelids drooped with his mood following suit.
Aichi felt as if he didn't know anything anymore. He lay on his bed for a few moments until he slightly tilted his head and glanced at the book sitting on the side of the small desk. It was the same book that he and his father began writing their own story in.