𝑳𝑬𝑺 𝑭𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑺 •𝒃𝒙𝒃•

Memoirs of Regret |Laurent Kyoya|

He was gifted a flower once; A small, curious thing.

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Chubby fingers held tightly onto a stem, thin wrist shaking from the strain of holding it up. Little breaths left the child in front of him, and he saw the way it struggled to stay still. Green eyes bore into his own and he was reminded of a mother ripped away too soon.

Nausea nipped at his guts.

Yuma said nothing, but he wouldn't drop his hand, stubbornly waiting for something. Anything, it seemed like. Kyoya looked away, leaning further against the tree. A disgruntled huff left the child in front of him, and he found himself with a face-full of scattering dandelion seeds a moment later. He spluttered, trying not to inhale any, yet some of them ended up in his nose, which forced him to sneeze. With a mouthful of seeds, he turned back to Yuma, only to falter upon spotting a smile on his face.

It twisted and twisted, grinding his insides into clumps of flesh and bone and-

Yuma's smile spread, cheeks rising, eyes crinkling...beauty marks curling. And it hurt. It hurt and it hurt and it hurt, but he couldn't stop it—stop himself from feeling this way because his father was right, right, right! Innocent-looking Yuma, still-chubby-fingered Yuma, smiley Yuma was the cause, wasn't he? Kyoya believed it to be true. Internally, he did the same—he blamed Yuma—but he couldn't do anything to harm him, could he? He couldn't...yell at him, nor ignore him, nor...anything else.

This little child before him was...was-

What was it?

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Again, flowers found their way to him.

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Dandelions seemed to be Yuma's favoured choice, and he wouldn't stop plucking them each chance he got. Inevitably, they ended up with Kyoya. The little free time they had was spent in their courtyard, doing nothing, but Yuma found a way to entertain himself. One after another, seeds gently floated through the air, towards Kyoya.

He plucked another one and blew it in Yuma's general direction. Small hands reached out into the air, fingers outstretching, to try and catch the fleeting seeds.

Somehow, the nausea wasn't there anymore.

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He kept the next flower.

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The book was kept tightly shut, pages blending together, keeping the stem and the seeds in place. A dandelion lay flattened between the pages, drying, as a reminder for...

The book was kept tightly shut, hidden in the corner of his bookshelf for his eyes only.

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His hand was warm.

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Yuma held onto him, awkwardly pulling at the hem of his shirt. Honestly, Kyoya didn't know what to do. Their father was nowhere to be seen and it was past midnight already.

He should've been back by now.

"Pa...pa?" Yuma's meek voice came.

Kyoya sighed, awkwardly looking at everything but Yuma. "Papa...will be home soon."