Work Text:
“If there really is an existence worthy of being called ‘God’, I would like to ask him but one thing,”
Deep within the royal chamber there could have been any number of glass slippers to be found. Glancing around, the prince briefly thought all that it contained resembled those crystalized objects, in a sense, for they all happened to be treasures dear to the ruler of its overcrowded land. A toadstool-shaped lamp perched unsteadily atop a tower constructed of fairy tale classics threatened to fall any minute. Lazily spinning around, a brass cherub descended from the ceiling. A basket full of pastel yarn lay at the foot of the bed, fit to eventually turn into the most elegant outfits worthy of the princess who still slumbered. The dull ticking of the clock reminded the room’s visitor that while he observed magnificent fragments, the world continued to mercilessly spin. Seconds slipping. Possibilities receding. Lives being lived and lost.
Lost in thought, his eyes soon stopped skimming over the royal subjects and focused on their noble ruler. Softly letting breaths escape, her eyelids fluttering every so often signalled that she was in the depths of a dream. He idly wondered if it was a peaceful one, and dearly hoped that it hadn’t anything to do with the cold lenses of a doctor’s glasses or the steady beep-beeps coming from a machine, inorganic and uncaring of whose life it was monitoring.
“Is there really a fate in the universe?”
But the prince wasn’t actually a prince, was he? Neither was the story a fairytale like the ones depicted in the girl’s books, which had heart-warming but nonetheless expected conclusions where the valiant prince came to the aid of his swooning damsel; dreamy sighs heard all round. Instead of taking place in a majestic castle in a Western country, the setting was a rundown house where cracks and marks stained its walls somewhere in a Tokyo neighbourhood. Nothing too fancy or worthy of approving whistles could be found here. There were no sprawling lawns with every sort of flower adorning them, but there were animal toys like the kind you’d find in a playground in the tiny plot of land outside. Not having countless servants waiting at the inhabitant's beck and call, one sibling took on the job of several people not wanting to cause the sickly younger sister any stress while all the older brother did was (unwillingly) clean the bath every so often. There were no balls to attend or audiences to be given. The people living there were most content spending time with each other. Taking trips to the aquarium, playing with stuffed animals and cooking miso soup in the morning were all precious moments to be savoured, more than anything else. Certainly more precious than the vast variety of jewels belonging to selfish French queens.
“If a man happened to cast aside fate, his instincts, and even his DNA to love someone else...”
A kiss from the princess’ one true love would rouse her out of eternal sleep… Or so the story tends to go. After adjusting her nightdress, Kanba paused. Had it been any other day he would have silently departed, as if he had never been there in the first place, merely leaving lingering regrets in his wake. The sort of day where nothing of note happens, sister giggling while brothers snipe over an overflowing pot or an overdue bill. Trivial as they may be, they were the best kind of days. Change didn’t lie heavy in the air and maybe, just maybe, they could forget everything. But today-
Today wasn’t that kind of day. And so, he tenderly laid a kiss on her forehead. This was as far as it should go. Any further and he’d have to face something he didn’t think he could handle right now (or ever, for that matter).
As his lips met hers,
“Dear God, would he really be considered a human?”
And with just that, only that. His heart rate quickened and suddenly Kanba was on the cusp of adolescence all over again. He may as well have been flushing at the insidious notion of sitting too close to a girl, the potential of knees bumping dizzying. An absurdity, a frivolity he ought to have long since cast aside. If anyone who knew him were to waltz into Himari’s room, perhaps the litany of models gracing embellished covers of Popteen their immaculate expressions would instantaneously crumble, jaws slack. They wouldn’t believe it, no one would - how could they? If anything, they’d almost certainly believe that the prince’s soul had been switched with another who desired to drag his name through the mud throguh committing an unforgivable taboo. What other possible reason could there have been…?
Chest constricting, the world began to blur and plunged into the realm of the uncanny. The cherub spun in nauseating slow motion, the wool garish and threatening. All judging him, threatening an exile. Thus Kanba was left with little alternative but to exit the stage of his dear, all too dear princess’ room (or as quickly as he could, navigating through all the clutter), struggling to stave off the darkness filling his mind and clawing at his back. The kiss hadn’t been able to wake her – Himari – up.
(You mustn’t be her prince, then.)
A little while later, Kanba found himself scowling as such fragmentary thoughts drifted through the claustrophobic annals of his mind. Burying deeper into the futon, he desperately tried to shut out Shouma’s cartoonish and overbearingly loud snores but to no avail. Honestly, even devoting a modicum of his time to musing over juvenile waffle along the lines of ‘fated one’s was absurd. He blamed the day’s events for messing with his brain, for poisoning him so.
For inviting him to taste darkness so sweet, it burned.
“Just wondering.”