Shades of Petals

We Both Know How This Story Ends

It took no time for her to fall asleep against him, breathing labored and body still suffering shakes. For some time still, he continued to hold onto her in silence, watching the setting sun and trying not to think of a time where this wouldn't be able to happen anymore.

It was unfeasible and the idea of it made him more upset than the thought of losing The Book forever.

It was a startling fact, but one he realized was true right then. If he lost Atsushi to this stupid disease, there was no way he could recover again. Not after what he'd already lost.

This whole world would mean nothing to him then and he wouldn't care if it burned down around him.

As the sun disappeared and the skies turned dark, he finally decided to move, moving up and carrying Atsushi into his arms. Heading towards his room attached to his office, he went in and headed for his bed, carefully settling her onto it and pulling the blankets over her, tucking her in.

On top of his huge bed, burrowed under the blankets as she was, Atsushi looked so small and fragile; so dwarfed in it that he was afraid she'd disappear in it if he looked away for a second. He had to convince himself that that wouldn't happen, his eyes glued on her for a few moments just to make sure.

"I'll be back," he murmured.

He headed towards his office, only partially closing his door in case he needed to listen in on her and if she needed him. He headed to his liquor cabinet and bypassed the wine; instead, his hand hovered over the top shelf vodka bottle, before eventually choosing the brandy.

He poured himself a glass and then headed to his chair, slumping over his desk as he nursed his drink. His eyes traveled over to his photo on his desk, the picture of himself and Zelda and their daughter staring back at him.

Was it awful that he'd thought less and less of his family these days?

Louisa May would tell him he was moving on, while he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He loved and missed his daughter, and always would. He'd been grieving over her for years and likely would keep doing so until he'd died. But maybe it was okay to let go of his grief a little...? Was that...would she be okay with that...?

And there was Zelda, his beautiful wife of ten years —only, was it really ten? Part of those years had been a handful of them married. Three of the five, two were he'd chased after her and threw parties to gain her attention, and then Ellaria had been born and died and the next four years he had been far away from her and leading The Guild, and finally chasing after that Book. The final and last year and a half had him staying in Yokohama and rebuilding himself, and eventually creating a truce with the Agency.

Some marriage —he and his wife had barely been together, and it had been years since the two of them had last talked, much less seen each other. His phone calls were always to a dead end that left him feeling emptier every day that he'd tried.

It was a hard truth to face and one he wasn't sure he was ready to.

Taking a deep breath, he took the frame and was about to place it down, when instead he hesitated. Taking it apart, he took the photo hidden behind that one and stared at it, frowning at first before half smiling at the newer photo.

It was of the day he and his Guild had formally treated with the Agency, and he and Atsushi had taken the photo together. It hadn't been on purpose —one of the others, probably Lucy, had been taking photos and there had been a candid moment where Francis and Atsushi had somehow found themselves together and had awkwardly stood by each other.

She'd been wary and he'd been stiff and formal. But then he'd made himself apologize to her and she'd briefly been surprised, and then suddenly he was confronted by her brightly smiling at him for the first time. He'd been taken aback and even slightly awed by not only her happy, beautiful smile, but by her actually smiling at him. The moment had been captured on film and then imparted to him.