Airy Nothings | jerza

Photographs

A/N: This drabble is not one hundred words. So it's not a drabble. You see, I was writing it, and I got carried away...

"I hate this house!" seven-year-old Sieg Fernandes yells. "It's old and stupid! I want to go home!"

The little boy is close to tears, but Reiki Fernandes knows he cannot coddle his youngest son all the time. "If you're going to behave like this, then you're going to have to do it in your room."

This causes the typical "stomping up the stairs, muttering enraged words, and slamming the door" charade to ensue. As a father of three, Reiki is very familiar with this.

Sieg's room isn't even fully unpacked. Clothes are strewn across the tiny room, a patchwork blanket is thrown across the bed, and boxes are hazardously stacked against the wall.

"Stupid dad," Sieg grumbles, collapsing to the ground tiredly and staring up at his unpainted walls. Being angry takes up a lot of energy. He turns onto his stomach, and presses his cheek against the cool wood paneling of his bedroom floor. That's when he catches sight of the most peculiar cardboard box.

To any adult, the box would look normal- cardboard, sealed with clear packaging tape- nothing out of the ordinary; to a child with a wild imagination, however, it was easy to see the strangeness of it. Faded, and filled with secrets yearning to be revealed.

Sieg crawls toward the box and tears through the tape with some difficulty. He cries out softly to himself as the flaps of the box scrape against his fingers, but despite the pain he puts himself through, he knows it will be worth it. Treasure awaits him, the little boy thinks eagerly.

There is no bar of gold or collection of precious jewels wrapped in the thin tissue paper within the box. Instead, a short stack of photographs sits at the bottom of the otherwise empty box.

Sieg reaches in and grabs the photographs, the curiosity still not leaving his face.

The photographs are dusty and have not been touched for years, but the crinkled edges and lipstick smears hint that once, many years ago, times had been different. Though the young child does not realize it, the photos have been worn out with love.

The first photograph shows a young scarlet-haired teenager, laughing, as she watches a blue-haired man with a prominent tattoo beneath his left eye, in a frilly pink apron. The image is ridiculous and brings a smile to Sieg's face. It's the tattoo that sparks Siegrain's interest, though. His aunt has the same tattoo. And that scarlet hair is shockingly similar to the one his daddy has.

He sets aside the first photo and examines the second. This one shows the same couple- but they have matured. He knows this because their eyes are not quite as playful- but they still shine with love. The blue-haired man's arm is slung around the girl's shoulder; the girl's head rests against the man as he holds her close in a tender embrace.

In the third photograph, much time has passed. The man and woman hold two young children in their arms. A little boy and his baby sister.

"That's Daddy," Siegrain murmurs with realization, brushing his hand over the face of the little boy.

The fourth and final picture shows an aged couple. Much has changed- the man's blue hair has faded and the woman's hair has white streaks. They are still beautiful, and Siegrain finds he cannot stare into their eyes for too long. They intimidate him.

He is about to tuck the photographs away in the crinkly, white paper when he finds three letters scrawled on the back of the last photo in dark ink. Sieg's finger traces over the neat penmanship in fascination.

E x J