Title: Picture
Chapters:1/1
Disclaimer: Ain’t mine.
Picture
China Dolly
A.C. 198
Deep down, everybody has a slight obsession. If you‘d said that to me during the war, I wouldn’t have believed you. But now, I do.
It all started the day of the car accident. And now, I have the strange obsession with photographs.
At Hilde’s wedding, I made pictures of everything. Christmas and Quatre’s estate, a whole photo book full. Most people don’t understand the connection I have with pictures, sometimes I don’t even understand it, but Quatre seems to.
Wufei just yells at me to get that camera out of his face and Trowa particularly ignores the fact that I’m making pictures. But Quatre always understands, and smiling, on all the photo’s I take.
I think deep down he knows and understands the pain I went through, and the things I can’t forget. Maybe it is because he was there when it happened. I swear, I shall never forget that day.
It was winter, A.C. 197, and I was strolling the streets with Quatre and Heero, my boyfriend at the time. It was snowing slightly and we were just having fun. I remember that Heero had snow all over himself, in his hair, over his coat. He looked so perfect like that and I could do nothing other than stare. I still remember the giggle coming from Quatre and Heero smiling at my staring. He winked slightly and said something and I remember laughing. And then there was that car. We didn’t see it, Heero didn’t see it and the drunken driver couldn’t stop.
They brought him to the hospital, but he didn’t last the night.
I cried for hours and days. The tears just wouldn’t stop. And all the others tried to comfort me, but they couldn’t.
I felt incomplete without Heero, and nothing could change that fact.
But later, when I remembered his last words, I started making pictures of everything. Capturing every moment that I wanted to remember, because I never knew when it was going to be lost. Since now, I can’t even remember the sound of my last love’s voice anymore. Only the shining of his eyes when he laughed, at only me. Only the brown hair full of snow, as he whispered. And I close my eyes and lay flowers down onto Heero’s grave, and look at the long-faded picture that stands next to the vase. And I close my eyes as tears slip over my cheeks and remember your last words, smiling, whispering.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
