my chalk prince || kaebedo

mon soleil

He reminds me of the sun.

I doubt very many people would agree, after all how could someone find such pure emotions in one who never shows them?

They haven't seen him the way I do. They haven't seen the way the light filters through the window and casts his hair's shadows on his face. They haven't seen the way his eyes light up when he gets asked questions about his research, they haven't seen his blush when he gets compliments on his art.

They haven't seen the way his smile splits across his face, eyes scrunched and cheeks red, gasping for air when he's laughing. They haven't seen what a warm cup of tea does to his lips, they haven't seen his hair down and they haven't seen him tired.

They haven't met the real Albedo. 

All they know is the cold chief alchemist who draws sometimes.

They don't know the sound of his self-doubt, the concern in his voice when Klee falls ill. They haven't met the Albedo who makes countless lame jokes, they haven't met the Albedo who blushes when he's called prince. 

They don't know Albedo the way I do, just as I don't know him the way Klee does. Does Klee see the sparkles in his eyes when I compliment his cooking? Does she see his sheepish smiles when I bring him his first meal of the day, when he's too far invested in his research to remember basic human necessities?

I see all of this in him, and so much more. I see the man who was scared of his own reflection, of his abilities, of hurting others. I see Albedo, who is like the sun, but can only think of himself as monstrous. I see an angel, ethereal and gentle and kind. I see the way he thinks of himself and the way he treats himself and I see him, in his entirety.

I see summer nights spent foraging and washing dirt off our shoes and I see the autumn breeze messing up his hair in the cutest possible way. I see his too-cold fingertips in the winter and I see him in my coat, shivering.

Of course, spring is his favourite. Spring is when the asters return, when lamp grass begins to shine, when sweet flowers bloom. Spring is when his allergies begin to kick in, but he doesn't mind. Spring is when the sun is gentle on his skin, when his smiles are most genuine.

Spring is my favourite, now, too. It used to be autumn, when we would sit close to one another and drink cocoa and bask in one another's presence, but the serenity that graces Albedo's face every spring is far more enjoyable. 

Albedo and Klee are my home. They're not everything I've asked for and they're not able to make up for all I have lost, but they are here and they mean so very much to me. It's because of them that I find joy in the little moments again; it's because of them that I feel whole again.

So I suppose this is one big thank you to my prince, my angel, my sun. Thank you, Albedo, for being my safety.

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/ not part of the story

This was just a small ramble, a projection if you will. It's been months since I've written, and I'm hoping I'll get back into the swing of things soon. 

I hope you enjoyed this (very) short kaebedo ramble. They're my comfort ship, and I project only Kaeya to the same level I do with Oikawa so get ready for more. 

amorentiah :)