𝖍𝖝𝖍 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

Photographing Memories (Kurapika x Reader)

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Author: Kites-Friend (VivaAlisa) (on ao3)
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Pictures always tell a thousand words in my life. Each picture snapped by my camera became a memory that would become stored deep within the vault of memories. Even if I couldn't remember the moment or how the picture occurred, I knew these photos by heart. Pictures would tell me things that humans could not. They became an unspoken soliloquy of every person's soul trapped within the white borders. My fascination with taking unposed pictures started when I met him.

The first time I took his picture, he didn't smile. His long blonde hair and traditional garb caught me by surprise. I had to take a picture to show some of my friends at a later date. Truly, I felt enamoured by someone who could be so outwardly themselves. I took out my camera and snapped a quick picture. The flash and whirl of film caught the man's attention.

His head shot towards the sound faster than my mind could realize what had happened. Since it was still daylight, I forgot to turn off the flash from the night before. My breath caught in my chest as the blonde strutted towards me.

My arms lowered the camera with a weak smile. "You took my picture?" he asked. Upclose, I could see every inch of his beautiful features. The slight curve of his face, the tufts of hair falling into his eyes, the deepest brown eyes, and even the chain that hung from his ear.

"Y-yes," I stuttered while dropping my camera into my lap. The film slipped from the bottom of the camera and became caught in the wind. My arm reached for the flowing paper but I was too late as it skidded across the ground. The man held his foot over the picture that landed right next to him. "I'm sorry. It was a nice picture. I wanted to show my friends what you were wearing."

His head cocked slightly to the side before he leaned down to pick up the small, square. It hadn't had time to develop but even I could make out the basic definition of form and muddled colors.

"You want to show your friends my outfit?" he asked while handing the developing frame back to me. "Why?"

I perched my mouth with the hopes something clever would appear. Instead, I felt like a bubbling mess. "I-I thought you looked nice." Heat fought its way onto my cheeks before I gripped the edge of the picture. As I go to pull away, he holds onto it tighter. "If you'd rather keep it, that's okay. I really shouldn't be taking pictures of strangers." My mind whirled with thoughts of how I should let go of the picture. It was of him. He should be the one to keep it.

"No, it's alright," he said while finally letting go of it. "Do you normally take pictures of people you don't know?"

My eyes went back to my camera as if it were a safety blanket. "No. You would be the first. I just thought you looked nice." I finally had enough courage to look back up at the man. For a split second, I thought I could see a hint of red on the cusps of his eyes. Red that matched the same blush on his cheeks.

"Interesting. My name is Kurapika," he said while holding out his hand. "Would you mind if I wrote on it?" I looked at the stack of pictures that held a few words at the white space at the bottom. I handed him the black sharpie and the picture. It only took a second for him to put his number and 4 words "Try not to fall."

After that fateful day, pictures of us became more frequent. A corkboard full of him. Each day held another picture of us together. Many of them were candid photos of him in suits or in his normal clothes. Each date, each movie night, each dinner was photographed by me.

Some pictures were only of him. Some were of us together. Rarely any of myself. Behind the camera was my muse, and it didn't help that I had a great model. The board filled too quickly for me to count the different pictures. He was always the one to write on them. They were cute phrases like "first date" and "park and picnic."

One day, he allowed me to do a photoshoot where I was able to choose each outfit he put on. He trusted me more than I could allow. Watching him change into different outfits sparked a feeling that only poets and musicians could describe. I was not one of them.

Everything was the perfect photograph. Until it wasn't. After a few months of us dating, I finally got the courage to tell him that I loved him. I decided to commemorate it with a picture so that I could always have Kurapika's look. It was going to be perfect.

He took me to the restaurant where we first met. If I wasn't too consumed with my own feelings, I would've known that his smile felt off. I took a few photos of him drinking his coffee and relaxing in the wicker chairs.

Finally, my brain matched my heart in courage and I held the camera up to my face and said, "I love you."

The lights flashed but it wasn't the picture I wanted. It wasn't the same smile on his face that was plastered all over the photographs in my room. He looked confused or puzzled. "I have to go" was all he said. "Plus, I thought I told you not to fall for me anyways."

All this build up for one instant of memories to be burned. Even when he left town, I still held onto the final picture of the boy I fell in love with as a reminder why I shouldn't do it again.