andrierretasha (great comet)

memory

natasha sets her keys on the hall table, humming quietly to herself as she slips her coat off. she stops for a moment to admire the polarids pinned to the wall, warm reminders of past days that she treasures every time she walks in the door.

it's an exceptionally average day, so natasha feels a slight jump in her chest when andrei and pierre don't greet her at the door as usual. she calms, though, when she sees the two asleep on the couch, content. natasha often marvels at how in love she is with them.

natasha smiles as she notices pierre's book lying forgotten on his lap, his eyes now closed as he leans against andrei's chest. wedged between the pages is another polaroid, one that pierre fondly insists is his favorite: natasha, running happily to the sunflowers in their garden while andrei chases after her, laughing. natasha can admit that she quite loves that one, too.

she watches andrei shift in his sleep, watches him reach subconsciously for pierre's hand. she grabs her camera from the kitchen table (andrei often berates her for never putting anything away) and raises it to her boys.